the-fifth-marauder03 - Tumblr blog

the-fifth-marauder03 · 2 years

Text

Thank you so much. I’ve been going through quite a stump lately (for a long long time) and comments like these always make me feel good. Getting such positive feed back makes me want to write again

PAPERWORK

Bucky x reader

Notes: Please go easy on me this is my first ever smut. I'm v v sorry if it's bad but please comment and tell me what you thought. Seriously please please please comment

Word: almost 4,000

Summary: After a long mission comes lots of paperwork. Y/n had doesn't want to do paperwork, she wants to go to her room and deal with the frustration Bucky caused. She almost makes it too, if it wasn't for Bucky insisting they do the paperwork right then. What happens when he notices her acting strange?

WARNINGS: its smut so 18+ obviously. Dirty talk, rough sex, fingering. and some other stuff so if you're uncomfortable leave.

The mission was long.

What was originally only supposed to be a week-long mission to collect intel went sour and turned into two weeks then three. The first days of the mission had gone smoothly, the pair had gathered what they needed and were looking forward to sleeping in their beds. But as luck would normally treat the avengers, someone had tipped off the arms dealer that Bucky and y/n were watching him and on the last day, he sent to of his goons to kidnap the two. For two weeks they tried to coax at least one of the guards into their cell but that proved impossible, until the arms dealer's son, who was much like Phil Coulson, came to aid them. Once they were supplied with weapons and a way to the exit it took y/n and Bucky a meagre hour to take down the entire operation.

When they finally reached the quinjet y/n took the time to calm down, Bucky had been killing her for three weeks. In the beginning, it was fine she could easily ignore her mounting frustrations but every time she would calm herself down he was there to build her back up. It started small. While they were doing the surveillance part of the mission he would drum his fingers on his thigh and bite his lip and if that wasn't enough to drive y/n mad, it was his constant joking. Y/n was 100% certain that if his mouth was that dirty in a causal setting then it was just plain filthy in bed. Even while they were locked in a cell he would do things that drove y/n crazy. For the first week, he would plant his feet and pull at the door with all his might giving y/n a perfect view of his physic. When his attempts would fail he would grunt and curse up a storm. The thing that was killing her the most though was being pressed against him each night. Their captor failed to provide a bed or even a blanket and Bucky being the gentleman he is, offered to share his warmth. Y/n knew she shouldn't accept the offer, she might have done something she couldn't take back. She froze her ass off for the first half of the first night while staring longingly at Bucky's back, he looked so warm and inviting. He woke up at the beginning of her chattering teeth.

"Y/n/n, get over. You're gonna freeze doll." He'd rolled over and opened his arms for her to lay with him.

"I'm ok-k-kay James. Just a little cold that's all." Her teeth chattered, proving her a liar.

Bucky sent her a dark glare that made her relent. She could imagine him looking at her like that in a different setting. It took every ounce of the little willpower she did have left not to whimper as his arm slid around her when she settled next to him and pulled her that much closer. She was gonna go fucking feral.

Needless to say, once they reached the tower and got through debriefing, y/n wanted to go to her room, take a hot shower, and have some quality time with her toys. The debriefing took hours, Steve wanted to know every detail of what went down before he finally dismissed them. Now was y/n's chance to escape before she was questioned anymore and she was going to take it. As she rocketed out of the meeting room y/n felt a cool hand grab at her wrist and turned to see Bucky shifting slightly. "We have paperwork to finish y/n/n." He said matter-of-factly.

"James, I'm tired, I stink, can't we just do it tomorrow?" She whined.

It was too late though, the super-soldier was already dragging her down the hallway to one of the many offices. "We should do it while the memories are still fresh." He stated firmly. His tone said not to question him so y/n didn't, she let him drag her down the hallway and into an office with papers stacked neatly on a desk with two seats. That's where they sat for the next several hours.

Y/n was getting more and more frustrated the longer she had to sit in that room. Due to her abilities, she also had enhanced sense, she was able to notice everything, and right now all she could focus on was Bucky. The faint smell of the cologne he had put on during the quinjet ride as well as gun powder and a smell that was distinctly Bucky was washing over her in waves. She could see the way the muscles on his flesh hand contracted as he wrote and could hear the soft whirl of the metallic one on his left. Y/n hear the rustle of his uniform-clad legs every time he shifted. She was going to die and it would be Bucky Barnes' fault. Y/n was aware that she was flushed and she was also aware that she was so wet that she could smell herself, but her senses were much better than his. After ages of y/n fidgeting around, he looked up.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He sounded concerned.

She was startled by his voice so it took her a minute to reply with a choked out, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

Bucky raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, licking his lips. Y/n shut her eyes tight and took a sharp inhale, "Really James, I'm fine."

Thankfully Bucky dropped it for the time being and they continued to work in silence. This went on for another hour and a half. She would shuffle her thighs against each other to get some friction and Bucky would glance at her and she would stop, flushing even deeper.

Ultimately, Bucky had enough. "Okay y/n/n, what the fuck is wrong?"

He was standing, looking down at her with those eyes. The very eyes she had dreams about looking up at her from in between her thighs.

"Nothing James, just hot and tired." She waved him off looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

She heard him take a step towards her, she heard him take a breath, and she heard his breath catch. She heard it all very clearly. Y/n shut her eyes hoping he would sit back down so they could just be down with this already, but he didn't. He took a deep breath through his nose and growled lowly, swaying on the spot he stood.

"Y/n/n." She wouldn't look at him.

"Y/n" He rarely used her first name. She still wouldn't look at him.

He was quiet for entirely too long, and when he spoke again he was far closer than she had anticipated, "Pretty girl."

Y/n whimpered before she could stop herself. That sounded so nice coming from his lips. Bucky wanted that sweet noise coming out of her mouth again, as many time as he could make it happen.

"Oh, babydoll if I had known," He was speaking in a low measured voice, " Is this what's been bothering you this whole time?"

Y/n was practically panting, Bucky had been getting closer to her while he was talking and now she could feel his breath fanning over where her catsuit opened. She stayed quiet, she wasn't sure if he was serious or not. Her lack an answer irritated Bucky, but he wouldn't touch her until he had her consent.

"Pretty girl if you wanted me to make you feel good all you had to do was ask me. I would love to get my hands on you. So go ahead babydoll, just say the word."

He waited, hovering just by her ear. "James." She just barely gasped out the word.

"I'm right here baby. Just say the word." He lowered his voice even more. "Just say the word, and I'll fucking ruin you."

"Yes." And he was on her.

He turned her chair around quicker than she could blink and his mouth was on her faster than she would take a breath. Y/n shoved on hand into his hair and one went to his back. Bucky's flesh hand went to the side of her throat and he paused slightly when she moaned. As he pulled back to look at her she pouted but he had something he wanted to test. He slipped his hand from the side of her neck to the front, grinning when her eyes fluttered and she craned to give him more access. "Oh, pretty girl do you like the way my hand feels wrapped around your throat?" She didn't answer, just hummed low in her throat. Having been given consent to touch her as he pleased Bucky let his irritation shine through. He applied just slightly more pressure.

"Pretty girl I asked you a question, but if you don't want to answer I guess I can go back the paperwork."

Y/n's eyes fluttered open to reveal blown pupils. She all but moaned "Yes James, your hand feels good on my throat."

He growled and smirked darkly, "Okay baby tell you what, I want you to go to your room and wait for me. I'm gonna finish this paperwork. While you wait I want you to get yourself nice and ready for me, okay?" Y/n nodded and stood as he released her. He stared down at her for a moment before running his thumb across her bottom lip. She parted her lips and sucked it into her mouth nipping it slightly. He watched her for a moment before speaking again. "And don't you dare cum." Bucky felt her whine against his thumb before he released her. He watched her with a heated stare as she made her way across the room.

When she had her hand on the handle Bucky spoke again. "Oh, and pretty girl," she turned to acknowledge him, "Use the toy that you use when you think of me." Y/n flushed even more if that was possible. The toy he was referring to was her favourite one. She'd bought it directly after her first mission with Bucky after he'd kissed her with everything in him to make sure their cover wasn't blown. That kiss had left her on edge until the end of the mission when she could go to her room and handle herself. When all her other toys failed her, she figured it was time for a new one. While searching through her favourite store's online selection she came across something intriguing, Avengers-themed toys. Being an avenger herself, she was curious to what they would look like so of course y/n clicked on the folder. Some of them made her laugh. Vision's was a small bullet with a stone on the back of it that looked like the one in his head. Tony's was a vibrator that was the same colour as his suit and its power button glowed. The farther she got the more she noticed how accurately all the toys represent them all. Natasha's was a red cock ring with a small button that looked like a black widow that vibrated when it was pushed. Y/n liked hers so she ordered one of those as well. It was a nice sized red vibrator with a design that looked like dark smoke wrapping around it. The description said that it had four settings and the highest one makes anyone see stars. Bucky's made her mouth dry up. It was a vibrator and a g-spot stimulator wrapped up in one. The button to turn it on was a red star, the body was made out of a black and metallic pattern. The metallic looked strikingly similar to the metal on Bucky's arm. So she bought it and used it often, and know Bucky wanted her to use specifically that one.

After swaying in the elevator while it rose she quickly gathered herself enough to make it to and into her room without collapsing. Once inside she pulled out a small box from under her bed and opened it to reveal what she'd affectionately nicknamed winter. Before doing anything though, y/n knew she needed a shower. She stripped out of her catsuit and turned on the shower that heated to a preset temperature, thanks to Tony's constant instalment of new tech. As y/n scrubbed herself clean her thoughts drifted Bucky, she was obviously attracted to him, but what if he didn't want more. She pushed these disconcerting thoughts aside and finished her shower, she needed relief. She quickly towelled herself off and headed back into her bedroom. As she settled into a comfortable position she grabbed winter and turned it on. Y/n started at her neck and worked her way down, she was painful turned on so it wouldn't take long for her to get herself ready. Once she reached her cunt she slowly ran the toy up and down to collect some of her wetness. The vibrations made her hum, it already felt so good and she'd barely started. Y/n brought the toy up to her clit and ran slow circles on the nub. Once she felt wet enough, y/n slowly worked the toy into herself, it felt good but she was sure Bucky would feel better. She started slow again, working herself up before getting progressively faster. Little whimpers and small moans were flowing from her now as she got closer to the edge.

"James" She could her how breathless she sounded but she didn't care. She'd been a live wire for three weeks every one of her nerves was on fire. As she felt herself on the very line on falling, y/n pulled the toy away out and away. She had her head thrown back so she didn't see Bucky leaning against a wall across from her. Y/n gave herself a minute to come down, but she was much more sensitive now. Her moans were falling much more freely now and it didn't take her long to get close again. Bucky noticed the closer she got the more she said his name. By the time she pulled the toy away from herself again y/n was practically chanting "James"

He watched calm down again before she moved the toy back to her clit. He smiled, y/m had listened to him. He silently observed her for another minute before stepping up to her bed and taking the toy from her hands. Y/n's eyes shot open and she looked up to she Bucky examining the vibrator. Bucky slowly smirked as he looked over its design.

" Pretty girl, is this themed after me?" His eyes were twinkling dangerously.

Y/n nodded, lust was so thick in her throat she was having trouble speaking.

Bucky looked like a cat who caught a canary while he lowered the toy to her clit. She withered on the bed as he applied pressure. "How long babydoll?" He quirked his brow.

"How long w-what, James?" she sounded breathless.

"How long have you wanted me to take that sweet little pussy and make it mine?" He growled as he slipped the toy inside of her, moving at an unrushed pace. Her brain was rapidly trying to keep up, between his motions and his words it was hard to place any exact time.

When she didn't answer he pushed the vibrator deeper, "Answer me, pretty girl."

She scrambled for purchase, "S-s-since our first mission together. When we had to save our cover by making out and that night you gave me some hickeys for good measure." Y/n words were jumbled and rushed.

Bucky smiled precariously and when he started talking y/n's eyes rolled back in her head. "Oh baby, I didn't give you those hickeys for good measure. I wanted to mark you up. You sounded so pretty while I did it too, trying to suppress those little sounds. God, I just wanted to lift your dress and have you sit on my cock while I did. Wanted to have you stuffed full of me as I marked you as mine." His Brooklyn accent was shining through. "Thought about it some many times baby, on so many missions, sparring too. That day when you wrapped your thighs around my head you smelled so good, wondered what you would do if I had just pulled you down on my face and devoured you through those tight fucking pants." His hand was moving the toy mercilessly now, and y/n was so close she could taste it. " All I wanted to do when you had to go on that date undercover was show him who you belong to. Wanted to fuck right on the table. Make you scream my name as you came. Sometimes when I got off I would think about fucking your face, I bet you would take me so well too. You'd look so pretty with my cock down your throat."

Y/n had been right his mouth was filthy in bed. With one last flick of his wrist, y/n came, hard. She was still shaking when he pulled the toy away and leaned down to kiss her. It didn't start sweet or innocent, as soon as Bucky's lips pressed against hers he took control, and she let him. He nips at her bottom lip then smoothed his tongue over it to ease the sting. He did this twice more before pulling back and laying on the bed beside her. Before she had the chance to question hin he spoke, "I want you to sit on my face and let me fuck you with my tongue until you cum."

Y/n didn't have to be told twice. Once she had both legs on either side of his head she tried to slowly lower herself but Bucky wasn't having it. He grabbed her thighs pulled her hard against his mouth. He shattered any expectations she had. He was relentless, his licks were even and broad as he worked her juices into his mouth. It seemed the more he tasted the rough he became, which was fine by Y/n, that's the way she liked it. She felt him growl against her when he finally pushed his tongue into her, truly tasting her. The sound reverberated through her and she couldn't the near scream that tumbled from her bruised lips. When she clenched around his tongue he knew she was close so he doubled his effort. Bucky sealed his entire mouth on y/n's cunt and sucked harshly. She came with a moan of his name.

He let her pull back and sit back on his chest as she calmed down. When she felt the material of his tactical shirt under her she frowned. "James."

He hummed and dragged his eyes from where she was still glistening to her eyes, "Yes, doll?"

"You are wearing far too many fucking clothes." Y/n stated as she rolled off of him.

"Well, I can certainly fix that." He rose from the bed and shucked off his clothes in a matter of seconds. Y/n's eyes were everywhere at once: his arms, his chest, his thighs that she'd like to ride into the sunset. When they landed on his large member resting on his stomach, looking an angry shade of red, her mouth watered.

"Pretty girl, as much as I'd love to have those pretty lips wrapped around me I need to be inside that pretty pink pussy immediately."

"How do you want me, James?" She was asking what his preference was.

He chuckled darkly then growled "Hands and fucking knees babydoll."

She whimpered then snapped into action. Y/n flipped over and raised with her back to him. "See pretty girl, I knew you'd look good like this." He praised her as he climbed onto the bed behind her. He ran the tip of his cock through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"Please." It was short and desperate. Exactly what Bucky wanted.

"Please what, pretty girl?" He was teasing and she knew it.

"Please James, fuck me." She whined.

Bucky deemed it acceptable and slowly slid in, setting a shallow pace. He was still teasing.

"Faster." She was trying to rock her hips back into him but he had a steady hold on her hips holding her still.

"beg for it." It was clear what he wanted. Bucky wanted her desperate for him and ONLY him, not that it was much work.

And y/n begged, "Please James, fuck me faster. Please please, please. I'll do anything. Just make me yours, please." It was starting to get incoherent. Bucky was satisfied so he picked up the pace, slowly working his way up to slam into her. Skin slapping, his grunts, and her moans were the only noises filling the room. bucky twisted a hand into y/n's hair and pulled her up to his chest. He started whispering absolute filth in her ear as he fucked her deeply.

"That's right baby moan for me. You like me fucking your cunt don't you babydoll? You like the way I feel taking what I want from you? You gonna let me fuck you like this from now on aren't you baby?" His had moved from her hair to her throat. "You're gonna let me fuck you like this cause you're mine now right pretty girl? This cunt is mine now, only mine no one else's."

She could only let out incoherent "Yesses" as she got closer and closer but Bucky knew she liked it, he could feel her clenching around him. His other hand slipped down to her clit as he kept talking. "You gonna give me what I want pretty girl? Is my girl gonna cum all over my cock? I can feel ya squeezin me, baby. Go ahead baby, cum for me."

That was the final push that landed y/n right in the middle of the strongest orgasm she had ever had. When he felt her clamp down on him he followed suit, shouting her name ad he pushes in as far as he can go. After they ride out their aftershocks they collapse beside each other. Y/n closed her eyes and floated between conscientious and sleep until she felt Bucky leave the bed. She was sure he had left so she rolled over to sleep until she is startled by and cool hand and calm voice.

"Pretty girl, you have to roll over and open your legs so I can clean you up then we can sleep, okay baby?" She rolled just enough for Bucky to slip a warm washcloth in between her legs and stroke gently, cleaning her. When he was down he threw the cloth into her hamper before slowly working her under the covers. After she was under them he slid in next her and pulled her to him.

"James?" she sounded sleepy.

"Yes, doll?"

"What does this make us?" She was timid now, holding her breath for his response.

"Well, I was hoping we could be a couple." He smiled against her hair.

Y/n lets out a relieved breath, "That sounds nice James."

"Shh, we'll talk in the morning, go to sleep pretty girl." He was grinning now.

"I love you." It slipped so easily from her lips as she drifted to sleep. Bucky wasn't even sure she had meant to say but he said it back none the less and he meant it

410 notes · View notes

the-fifth-marauder03 · 2 years

Text

My god freya, with every story your writing gets ten times better. I absolutely adored this fic by far on of my favorites ever

Shades of Green

Summary: On the paper, Syverson made for the perfect roommate, mostly due to the fact he was never home and even though he was hotter than hell you doubted anything could ever happen between you. Until one night changes everything...

Pairing: Captain Syverson x female reader (no description of body type or ethnicity)

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: +18, fluff, romance and graphic smut. Jealousy, roommates to lovers, angry sex, vaginal fingering, dirty language, breeding kink, risky creampie, hyperspermia, bodily fluids, machoism.

A/N: This is dedicated to my lovely @wolvesandhoundshowltogether a very belated gift, long-anticipated 🖤. It's been a while since I last wrote an actual story so excuse me now hiding from the world in anxiety. Many thanks to my dear friend @agniavateira for beta'ing.

Shades of green

Two years have passed since you moved into the cosy little apartment in the bawls of the city centre - a humble sun-showered pad with a small terrace where you nourished timid house plants back to life.

Indeed, it was a rare find for a reasonable price. The fact that you had to share it with a boorish military grunt didn’t bother you even by the slightest.

Quite the contrary, Captain Logan Syverson was the ideal flatmate; due to long deployments, he was hardly ever at home. Once returned from active duty, he tended to keep the place clean, fixed whatever broke, and made the kitchen drift of the most delicious aromas.

The only real problem that arose from sharing a flat with the Captain was that despite the buzzcut, scars, and bristly ‘roadkill’ that decorated his jawline, he was otherworldly attractive. Sporting the body of a viking warlord and the confidence of a well-endowed man, Syverson was the type of handsome that made grown men stop on their heels and stare and for teenage girls to cover their mouths in a muffle of shy giggles.

Silly little you were anything but immune to his spell, of course. One glimpse of his sapphire-lustred eyes brought fervid heat to your cheeks, and your knees turned into cotton.

However, the relationship between the two of you remained lukewarm, on terms of nothing other than flatmates. Syverson was a man of a few words and grunts, who mostly kept to himself and spent the nights at the local neighbourhood pub where he would drink with his buddies until the moon itself fell asleep.

Admittedly, you preferred to keep a healthy distance, knowing very well that a man like Syverson would never fall for a woman such as yourself. The ladies Sy brought home were nothing like the timid ocean breeze you were, he only ever bothered speaking to you when it was time to discuss whose turn it was to do the next round of grocery shopping.

October snuck right beneath the nose, carrying amber-tinted leaves on its chill wind along with Captain, who was now back from Iraq for a much longer leave and strolled around the house like a bored house cat in search of trouble.

The more you kept bumping into him around the pad, the thicker the air felt in your apartment despite the temperatures outside dropping lower with each day.

“Whatever,” you sighed, brushing your hair in front of the shower mirror and more so, hoping to brush away any thoughts of Sy as you prepared for your date. It has been years since you've been on one of those.

The man you were supposed to meet, Robert, nagged you for aeons and a day until eventually, you caved in and accepted his courtship. Truth be told, you had scant interest in actually seeing him tonight but a part of you hoped that this would help in making you feel less pathetic for crushing over your roommate who never gave a fuck.

Fumes seeped around you as you stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but a short towel. With your thoughts as hazy as the mist that engulfed the corridor, you made way toward the bedroom when something hard and sturdy blocked your path, causing you to bounce back with a breathless shriek.

‘Oh no, oh, fuck, no!’

“Careful there, spitfire, you’ll hurt yourself.”

The low, gravelly drawl of his voice sent a spiralling tingle to your pebbled nipples: fully erect, they brushed against the wet cloth barely guarding your virtue as if crying for the attention of that burly bull of a man.

Gawking, Sy stood before you, sipping from a bottle of beer, blocking the corridor in ways that offered no escape.

Instantly, your hand tightened on the towel around your chest, assuming that for whatever reason, the Captain was in a mood to vex you, though it wasn’t just mischief that gleamed upon his pale sapphires—but a feral, shameless intent. Unapologetic, his eyes trailed down your half-naked figure, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Headin’ out tonight, roomie?” Sy questioned with another sip while his eyes stabbed at your chest.

Knuckles stiff around the edge of the towel, you cleared your throat in a failed attempt to prevent your voice from trembling.

“I...yeah, I am.”

“Hot date?” His smirk slanted.

“Actually, yeah.”

Sy remained stoic, tiny specks of foam graced his bushy beard and with the flick of his tongue, he licked his lips and suckled them dry. “Pity,” he grumbled, baritone dropping smoothly low, “thought maybe we can decorate the livin’ room together, ya know?… for Halloween. But I guess I’ll make the webs... by myself.”

Your belly sank and fluttered with the unease one has when shamefully exhilarated by something forbidden, yet not a single twitch appeared below the Captain’s frigid stare, which did nothing but furthermore vex your seething mind.

Embarrassed and bemused, you hoped to hell he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. A small frown formed on your brow; if this was a provocation of some sort, you didn’t have time for it. Harrumphing, you shrugged, almost making the towel slip off your chest, much to Syverson’s silent delight.

“Not much into decorating tonight,” you spat coldly and shot him a sardonic grin.

“Yeah, I bet,” he scoffed.

An awkward stillness crept into the narrow space between you. Gingerly, his glare lingered, the sapphire-coloured shine sparkling as it trailed the little beads of water that loosely hung from your hair and glided down your skin. For a brief moment, he grazed his sharp fangs upon his bottom lip but then shrugged and turned back toward the living room.

Never in your life have you sighed with such intense relief.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your heart was threatening to crush through your bones and escape your ribcage. Typically, the Captain had a certain effect on you - a quiver in your belly, a kiss of heat to crest your cheek. But in that very moment, you couldn’t stop the throbbing in your chest and all of a sudden you were a teenager - pitifully infatuated with the hottest guy in school, heart-singing and every glimpse his sapphires offered filled you with the hope that maybe he liked you too.

Though you had Syverson figured out a long, long while ago, knowing very well he was like one of these boys — sick for attention with no real intention.

“Fuck these guys,” you muttered under your breath as you slipped in the tight little red dress you purchased especially for your date.

The thought that Sy might find you attractive wearing it struck your mind nonetheless; but quickly, you stuffed any notion of him to a dusty nook in the back of your brain and finished prepping for your date.

Sy was still sprawled on the sofa once you emerged from your room; lounging about, watching some dumb horror movie on Netflix while a bottle of cold beer sat loose in his fist. There was no ignoring the weird atmosphere that unfurled through the apartment. The air tensed with every click your heels made upon the cheap parquet flooring, each step soaking you with an unexplained sense of guilt as if going on this date was an act of infidelity.

Sending a brief glimpse at the burly man, you felt an urge to say something but realised you had no reason to make excuses to Sy. Instead, you reached for your black sequin purse and just as your hand touched the door handle...

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

The thunder of his voice shot right through your nerves. Clenching your teeth, you bit back your ire and turned to stare at him.

Sy’s eyes were still glued to the screen.

“Robert, from accounting in my firm, but you don’t know him…”

“Robert… accounting,” Sy repeated the name, the gears in his brain twisting and turning when suddenly, he let out a loud snort and burst into a peal of roaring laughter. Throwing his head over his shoulder, he finally offered you a gander, his joyful eyes briefly running up and down the curves of your body.

“Bobbie? Little Bobbie McPee?”

“Robert McBride,” you corrected with a sulk, your fingers anxiously toying with the metal handle. Had you the nerve, you would have smacked that irritating smile right off his big. stupid. face.

Shaking his head, Sy suddenly shot himself from the sofa, his imposing body flexing beneath the worn black t-shirt that looked as if it was about to surrender and rip under the size of his bulging muscles. Any tendril of rage that wove in your gut briskly dissolved, replaced with a prickling chill that crept between your bones and held you paralysed.

Wide-eyed, you watched Syverson as he sauntered forward, your head chaotic with an onslaught of rapid irrational thoughts.

‘Why the hell is he coming closer? Is he going to...’

“We went to high school together,” he retorted and paused mere inches away from you, entrapping you between the white wooden door and his impossibly large frame. His breath blew hot on your face, while the scent of his spicy beard oil, beer and virile musk caged you in hazy mindlessness.

Suddenly you were weak, your knees shaking at the glint of his sapphire gaze. Up and down he scrutinised you, the tip of his serpentine tongue darting at his upper lip in what seemed like a taunt.

“Well,” he drawled, taking a small pause as he examined your dress, “tell little Bobbie: Logan Syverson says hi.”

You meant to reply with a snide remark, but the flare sparking his eyes had you speechless. Once the words returned to your mind, Sy already turned his back and made his way to the living room while chuckling to himself.

To say that your hatred toward Captain Logan F. Syverson burnt with the fury of thousand blazing suns would have been an understatement. Every passing minute you spent thinking about him during your date made you seeth. Not that Robert was anything other than an atrociously dull human being, but everything would have been peachy if you could stop imagining that the man in front of you was Syverson instead.

‘Motherf…’ you fumed, wondering what did you ever do to Sy to have him mess with your head like that.

Nothing! You did nothing to win such treatment. The provoking, the blunt mockery—Syverson knew exactly what he was doing dancing around you, exhuming his big-dick-energy to toy with you the way a cat toys with a helpless little mouse.

Even when you attempted to give Robert a grain of respect and concentrate on the tedious conversation he was leading, Sy found new ways to bother you by sending an onslaught of random text messages:

“Where do we keep the laundry detergent again?”

“Did we run out of Mayo?”

“Is the iRobot broken again?”

“Do you know if KFC is still open this time of the evening?”

“Why are you looking for detergents?! You have three t-shirts you cycle between! No, no and no, Google it!”

Having zero intentions of seeing Robert again, you decided to finish the night early.

Frail as he might have been, at least by comparison to beastly Syverson, he still insisted on walking you all the way back to your front door which you kindly agreed to.

No matter how ‘safe’ people declared this neighbourhood, walking alone in the dark wasn’t a worthy risk.

“So this is me...” You forced a grin at the lean man, politely trying to hint that there would never be a second date.

A hint that went obliviously unnoticed. Offering you a hazy gaze, he provided what you think he believed to be a seductive smile. His hand then reached to your wrist, and with a light squeeze, opened his mouth. “I had the loveliest evening.”

Hardly able to mask your disdainful flinching, you tried to pull free from his grip.

“Umm, Robert, I…”

Ignoring the apparent awkwardness and your lack of participation, he gingerly began caressing your hand. “Is this it or?...”

“Or?...” You drew more firmly, your back pressing into the door.

“Or maybe you can invite me in? Just to talk.”

“Ah no…” you started saying, but the words died on your tongue as Robert leaned closer in an attempt to steal an undesired kiss.

A loud whoosh reverberated through the dim corridor as the door behind you suddenly flung open, nearly sending you down to the floor.

“Hey, Bobbie.”

Shirtless and covered by a sheer layer of sweat, Sy stood at the door, one arm casually hanging over the door frame, making his bicep appear far more pumped than usual. You hated him still, yet at that very moment, relief struck you, along with the misty lure of Syverson’s musky scent that roped around you like dark silken knots.

'To hell with him!'

Seeing the beast of the man demonstrating his physical assets, Robert’s hand immediately withdrew.

“Logan,” He cleared his throat.

“It’s Captain Syverson,” Sy corrected before flashing you a quick glare. Why did he make you feel like you were in some trouble again? You frowned.

“We were just having a small chat,” Robert explained, to which Sy replied with a sardonic stare and briefly chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“I heard. The lady doesn’t want you in.”

Despite the bewilderment written all over your face, Syverson kept a fierce, warning glare at the other man and tilted his head in a gesture for you to get inside the house.

Almost instantly, you folded your tail between your legs and, with a clenched jaw, snuck below his spread-out arm straight into the apartment.

“Night,” Sy spat and slammed the door shut before Robert had a chance to react.

The walls still trembled with the might of Syverson’s brutal manoeuvre; the little tremors made their way into your bones and stabbed at your muscles until your entire body visibly shook. Sy turned to you with barely veiled anger sparking his blue eyes.

At that point, the heat in your blood peaked to new records.

‘He is pissed?!’

There were so many things you wanted to say to your barbaric jarhead of a roommate right now, none of which would lead to any positive consequences. Swallowing a frustrated growl, you stormed into the kitchen and threw the fridge open in the purpose of occupying one of Sy’s cold bottles of beer - hardly a worthy payment to his obnoxious behaviour, but at least, in that very moment, it held you from a furious outburst.

Right on your steps, Sy followed, silent as he blocked the entire space of the kitchen’s arched pathway. His massive arms rose to fold across his bare chest, his lips smacking together at the sight of you uncorking the bottle before drenching your throat.

All it took was one glance at him, and your anger surged again.

“Logan, what the actual fuck?!”

Sy’s face fell into a frown, appearing just as vexed, if not more.

“Thank you for getting rid of that Schmock, Big Sy,” He answered in a dull falsetto in an attempt to mimic your voice the way a child would taunt.

Instinctively, you rolled your eyes at him, taking another large sip. “I don’t know what has gotten into you tonight, but this is the last time you meddle with my affairs and ruin my dates.”

“Oh please, sugarbutt….”

“Don’t call me sugarbutt!”

“Sweetlin’,” Sy corrected with a sneer and stretched his shoulder even wider, his breadth dwarfing everything within the kitchen, including yourself.

“You are bein’ all ungrateful; that’s what you are. Both you and I here know you weren’t about to sleep with Bobbie McPee. That man is way below your league, and I didn’t like how he was nagging you to let him in, so I went ahead and did you a solid because I believe in a woman’s right to say no, and that guy was downright coercing you.”

Sy did his best to appear calm and indifferent, but his eyes were almost erratic in their scrutiny, promenading across your frame back and forth, like a wild animal preparing for a hunt. The same energy infected you as well; the more you tried to contain yourself, your chest heaved - as if it was a game to play or a competition.

“So you are a feminist now 'big Sy?'” You began to mock, “I saw the skanks you brought over here before and heard the shit that comes out of their mouths.” Pausing, you lifted one arm across the fridge's door and squirmed your hips theatrically.

“How did that go? ‘Ah, yes, yes, yes! Captain, sir, give me that big fat cock, yes, use my body like a fuck hole', are you sure those ladies are not paid actresses? If you know what I mean...”

Beneath his thick beard, his jaw clenched. Unfolding one arm, Syerson pointed a warning finger at you. “First thing first, those were some lovely ladies you speak of, so show ‘em some respect, sugarbutt, and keep that internalised misogyny bullshit out of our apartment. Secondly…”

A wild gust of wind wafted over you with Syverson’s abrupt agile movement, who, in less than a second, stood an inch away from your face, rudely reminding you that this humanoid beast was not a simple man but a trained, glorified military warrior.

It took everything in your power to remain steady on both feet and keep that quivering moan locked deep in your chest. Gaze shredding, he peered down on you, his nostrils flaring with every loud and sharp inhale.

“You’d scream the same thing had I given you my cock…” his voice dropped dangerously low, overtaken by a lustful taunt.

Your eyes flicked to his mouth in time to see his lips part open, making scorching fire rise your throat. Absentmindedly, you slammed the bottle onto the counter, the beer unable to cool nor quench your thirst anymore.

“At least I was always kind to your ‘ladies’ and never got in their way to get your cock!” you snarled.

Sy watched the foam climb up the bottle’s neck, his eyes narrowing as if you violated some military code. Chewing on his lips for a lingering moment, he rummaged in his head for a response, but all that came from him was an irritated mumble, “Too bad, babe, I wish you had...’

Your chest fell, uncertain if the words you heard were correct, you tilted your head and asked sternly, “What did you say?”

Sy’s lips stretched into a thin line, providing no answer, though his gaze now felt like sharp shards of ice.

“What did you say???” you asked again, more urgently this time. “Answer me!”

A frustrated growl boomed between the country-printed kitchen tiles, followed by the sharp gasp that escaped you the moment his hands snapped around your forearm and hauled you so close that his furred chest nearly brushed against your breasts with each puff.

But nothing made your heart sink more than the fierceness of his direct stare.

“I said: I wish you had. At least then I’d know you felt something for me.”

Whether it was the heat of his palms or the scent of sweat that got you light-headed, you couldn't tell, all you knew is that the words fled from your mouth like sneaky little mice.

“What makes you think I don’t?”

Eyeing your mouth, he considered his next steps, the chaotic war inside his head evident through fine cracks of emerald that embellished his blue gaze. One by one, the creases deepened, shattering his iron will, proving that even the strongest of men couldn’t stand in the face of the woman he wanted most.

In a completely lost battle, his hand cradled your jaw.

“Syver….”

The rest of his name was muffled by the passionate kiss that claimed you. With his fingers pressed into your cheeks, he forced your lips to unwrap for an ardent exploration; just like honey, golden and sweet, his silky serpent pervaded your maw and imbuing you with bliss. His growls of prolonged desire delved into your chest until you felt fire ignited within its dark pit, and the blazes spilt molten-hot into your veins.

If this was a joke, a game, or a dream, you hoped to never find out; in unveiled desperation, your arms wrapped around his thick neck and hung onto him, wary that he would change his mind. But Sy had no intentions of doing so; amid the symphony of ecstatic groans, his arms brought you to crash into his broad, hairy chest. Soon the coat of sweat that clung to his skin slapped against your body, defiling the red fabric of your dress and sticking on the bare parts of your flesh.

You wanted to drown in it.

He wanted to drown in you.

Reluctantly though, Sy broke the kiss, halting for a brief gasp of fresh air; the rounded tip of his nose bumped against yours while his mouth ghosted warmly upon your swollen lips.

“Yeah?” he asked amid his laboured breath, desperately seeking sincerity in your bewildered glance, “do you want this, darlin’? Do you want me?”

Unable to speak coherently, you nodded in response, which won you a soft squeeze around the chin. Directing you to stare into his gleaming sapphires, he demanded again, now pressing his wide, muscle-hard thigh between your legs, and dangerously close to your groin.

“Say it, tell me what you want me to do,” Sy urged by pushing his leg higher, the fabric of his jeans brushing over your panties.

Drawn by natural wills, you undulated your hips and shamefully started to ride his thigh whimpering, astonished at the paradox of relief and further yearning swept over your engorged core.

You were stranded south of heaven, helpless, desperate for friction—you needed it, harder, faster, more.

‘Please!’

“I want you!” you managed a pitiful mewl and gave him an equally vulnerable glance, “I want you, Sy, I need you to take me like the animal that you are.”

Per your demand, his kiss was even rougher than before; violent and possessive, he bruised your lips and chin, the sounds emitting from his throat barely human. Feral in his entirety, his kiss and his touch made you feel the air in your lungs replaced with fire.

Unceremoniously, his hands smacked across your rear, fingers squeezing your cheeks in raspy frustration as if his own wanton brought pain. There was a time when you found this treatment degrading—now it made your desperate little slit crave attention.

Sy granted it without you having to beg.

Wandering below your dress, his curious fingers scoured the wet path that tainted the silk of your panties; though you saw him as a savage, his touch was shockingly tender: that of a man well-taught in the secret whims of a woman.

If only his mouth was this eloquent...

“My God, you’re a wet little thing, aren’t you, babygirl?” Slow and sensual, he outlined your entrance, spreading dampness across your petals, pressing into the hollow that twitched for his touch.

“You want ‘big Sy’ inside you, darlin’?” Sy’s lips curled into a triumphant grin, his fingertips provoking the edge of your panty line in featherlike strokes, inching close but not close enough.

“I’d gladly give you all of me, darlin’ but I don’t think you can take it just yet. I think it’s been ages since you took a proper dick in that tight little hole of yours,” his digit lightly shoved into the hot dent in your panties, “I better be a gentleman and stretch you for me so it won’t hurt too much.”

Never in your life had you felt such a needful desire to connect with another person. Your skin seared both from his touch or the lack thereof once his hands slid from one spot to the other. In your despair, you whined and writhed and crashed your body against the wall of his chest.

“I need you inside me.”

Not denying your request, his finger slipped below your panties merely to further taunt and bring you across the edge of your patience. Gingerly, he stroked between your petals, relishing in the dew that dripped all over his knuckle before sliding into your heat.

Too afraid that the nosey neighbour next door will hear the ruckus, you slapped a hand across your mouth and muffled the loud moans that tore from your throat; but Sy had none of your silence. Pushing another finger, he slowly began to pump your drenched cove: in and out, deeper, harder —every tidal sink he made into you pushed you further down a phantasmic spiral.

“Tsk, tsk,” he ticked his tongue, “I want those cries, darlin’, better not deny me of them now, or I’ll find ways to make you scream so loud, Mrs Parker will call the police…”

With that, he brushed a thumb over your clit and curled his digits within your depth, causing your muscles to shudder around his thick fingers. Another smile of arrogant victory cascaded brightly on his eyes, ravelling in the sweet symphony that spurred from your mouth, of the way you danced for him, faster and faster in search of the elysian fields.

Incoherent and irrational, you truly believed the pleasure would kill you.

“Look at you,” Sy gave a hoarse whisper and leaned in to nibble at the shell of your ear. Urgently, you pushed against his hand, trying to steal what was rightfully yours—control—though it was an absurdity for every shift you made against one another only made you lose the grasp over your wits.

“I can feel you getting wetter and tighter, darlin’, and we hardly even began, which makes me wonder…” he paused, preserving you in his glare as if you were a rare sight, “did anyone make you come around his fingers before?”

With whatever scant remnants of wit, you shook your head. Your vulturous slit choked around the girth of his fingers, suckling them until it felt as if there’s no more space within you to fill, and all it took was one slippery strike to throw you across the edge. Snapping your palms at his broad shoulder, you held tight and screamed for all the demons and devils to hear your ascension.

Tears of pleasure beaded your lashes, lightly obscuring your sight, the image of Sy standing before now tad blurry. And yet, you could see how his fingers dove into his mouth.

He licked them one by one, tasting your sugary dew, savouring the taste with vocal approval before he suckled his lips and murmured, “tasty little peach, aren’t you?”

Still trembling from your climax, you bit your lip in response and offered a tender stare, suddenly reduced to a vulnerable little thing. At the same time, Sy took harbour between your wobbly legs, massaging a sore erection with a ravenous storm in his glare.

It’s been so long since someone looked at you that way. Or maybe, you figured, no one looked at you like this before—as if you were desert, a meal for a famished man.

“What’s wrong, babygirl?”

Sy gave a questioning look and knelt between your legs. His hands smoothed upon your knees, gathering sweat in their ascension to your thighs.

“I… oh...” you tried to speak, but words were too tough as the pillowy tips of his fingers left trails of fire across your flesh.

“Words, darlin’, I won’t give you what you want if you don’t say it properly…” A wide, cocky smirk painted his face, beaming at you from below, almost distracting you from the fact that this massive man was peeling your silky panties away and breathing against your cunt.

“I never thought that…oh my god...”

Sy’s bearded kiss teased your inner thigh, the sense of his thick beard brought tingles and burns, while higher and higher, his mouth climbed, licking, tasting, driving you insane.

“You thought that what, darlin’? Hmm?” He kissed across your other thigh, his fist wrapping around the flimsy strap of your panties that now rested around your knees.

“I thought guys like you don’t like girls like me…”

“Oh, darlin’...” He chuckled softly, but then his fist made a sudden snap and tore your panties away.

You hardly had a moment to jolt, let alone realise what the Captain was doing and he already raked your ass into his grip and swept you off the counter. A strong, firm hand carried you in a wild whirlpool and then—thud!—your ass smacked on the dinner table with such might that the pans hanging from the cupboard rattled in shock.

“Don’t really care about guys like me, darlin’. Truth is I wanted you from the moment I first saw you,” Sy breathed, squeezing your rear with one hand while the other urgently fumbled with his belt. Every muscle in your body twitched at the metallic echo of his buckle snapping, your gaze swiftly dropped to his groin, and your spine stiffened with a feverish chill.

His chest puffed as he fisted his cock, sheer pride adorning his face. His thumb was rolling back and forth over the glistening crown, smearing the opaline drops all over his glistening flesh.

“See how badly I want you?” He offered an arrogant smirk and leaned closer to graze his shaft between your drenched petals. Astonished, you wailed for him, anguished by the way he teased your slit, brushing no more than the edge of his girth against your opening but refraining from going inside.

“I want you too!” you piously whined, absentmindedly digging your nails into his nape.

Low growls escaped his hot mouth, while his breath shuddered, a clear signal that he could also neither stall for another moment. Eagerly, he pressed his lips to your temple and panted, ”Forgive me, babygirl. This round I won’t be the southern gentleman I usually am. I promise I’ll eat that sweet juicy peach until you scream, but not before I’ll pump it full of cream.”

Unable to hold much more, he gripped both your thighs and hauled you toward him with the might of a furious bull shredding through silk.

A crescendo of breathless cries soared within the cosy room, vulgar and rough - the Captain filled you, sparing no moment to let you adjust to his impossible size. Deeper he forced through your cavern until you ached and clung to him with a sharp yelp of disbelief. How could he even fit you?

Astonishment painted both your faces as he began to move, prying your mouths agape in a shared breath. Lost but finally found, you felt whole by this union, by him fulfilling the lonely space within you like a puzzle piece falling into place.

“You are just like I imagined." His voice was almost a desperate howl, his eyes veiled with a dream-like haze of pleasure once he pushed into you again. “You feel so good.”

You wished to respond, to say how long you wanted it too, feeling sad and envious every night you heard him taking another girl. But Syverson pounded the air right out of your lungs with every collision his body made into you.

The only thing that spurred from your open maw was the husky wail that rose higher and louder while your womb dutifully squeezed with the pressure of his intrusion; your narrow canal stretched to further welcome him until you felt you will never belong to another man.

A great part of you was thankful you couldn’t articulate a word, afraid you might say something horribly embarrassing and absurd.

Though words weren’t needed. Sy felt it with every inch of him submerged in you. Thumbs dug deep into your muscles to hold you in place, he drove into you further, taking you in a brutal rhythm, yet not without style.

“Don’t! Don’t stop! Fuck me!” You managed to scream. Mrs Parker surely heard you by now and knew exactly what you were doing, but you were far from caring at that point.

There, in the tepid penumbra of the kitchen, surrounded by the storm of your reverent moans, cries, and lustful sweat, you cared nothing of the consequences as your roommate ploughed you on the old wooden table like the obedient soldier he was with no barrier used to protect you.

All you wanted was the width of that ventured through you, the fiery heat that poured into your pit, and the warmth of his chest and shoulders pressing into your body.

Syverson must have needed it just as much, for he snapped one hand to the cleavage of your dress and with an unmannered tug, forced it down to your torso along with your bra.

Taken by your beauty, his eyes briefly drank in the sight of your body before they returned to meet your glare again. It was at that moment when the thick layer of ice that always covered his stare completely dissolved.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful!” Sy rasped and squeezed your breasts, “And all mine. I want you to be mine, darlin’!”

His words riddled you with wild shivers, a sudden whirlpool of sensations assailing your chest. Devout as sea nymph succumbing to the ocean's might, you fell to your elbows and allowed Syverson to take whatever he needed from you.

“Tell me what you want, darlin’.” You heard him utter.

Shrouded in illogical despair that clouded your mind, you squirmed your hips in fervour to meet his thrusts. All could think of was him unloading inside you, the thought of his seed - hot and fertile in your womb - bringing a sequence of quakes and tremors so intense you erupted with ecstasy.

“Logan,” Your voice broke, body tingling as waves of white-hot pleasure submerged you, “I want you to come, I want you to come inside me!”

All hell broke loose. With your walls still clamped around him, Sy snapped with an onslaught of savage ruts, fucking you with such might that the entire table creaked and scratched the floor; the little fruit bowl that sat in the middle tipped over and crashed on the floor, sending apples and peaches to roll freely on the floor.

Still too tight, too pressured, you wailed. The edge of his cock slammed into your cervix, spawning tendrils of both pain and pleasure to weave together. A little more of this pleasure and you would die, you fretted.

But your fear was undone along with your sweet senses, euphoria flowing hot within your tendons once again.

Bathed by golden bliss, you encompassed Sy, embracing him tightly, both legs, arms and your silken walls that suckled around his thickening cock.

Reduced to nothing but carnal need, Sy let out a peal of hoarse moans. No thoughts ran through his head other than the need to paint your womb with his seed. Unrelenting, he grabbed onto your rear and charged with selfish, ruthless intent.

“I’m going to come, oh god.”

One last powerful slam and he came into you in an abundance; hot and rich it pooled inside you, overflowing until no space remained and the milky elixir seeped out of your seams. Still grounding you, Sy’s pace gradually slowed and his eyes fell to stare at his cock as it throbbed and twitched with the final gush of his cum.

“That was amazing… you were amazing,” he panted and swallowed to wet his parched throat.

A dark glint sparked his gaze as he carefully pulled from between your walls and glanced at the generous pond of white cream that dripped from your gaping hole.

For a brief moment, any trace of civility in him faded, leaving nothing but an unwitted caveman who was undoubtedly proud of his handiwork. Peering down at the mess between your thighs, the blood suddenly rushed to your head and the hairs on the back of your neck bristled.

‘Fuck…fuck fuck!’

What have you done?

To say that dozen different thoughts ran in clattering chaos within your head would have been an understatement - every possible ‘what if?’ scenario tormented you at once, while the possibility that you just let your very active-military-duty-roommate knock you up - was the loudest of them all.

And there he was, still buried inside you, a gentle thrum stirring where the two of you remained connected and you didn’t even know what he was to you right now.

‘Future father of my child?’ You jested bitterly while berating yourself over and over again.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid! so fucking stupid. What if this was just him letting off some steam?'

Licking his upper lip, Sy sharply inhaled. As if to quiet your nerves or comfort you, he planted a chaste kiss on your forehead before departing from your cove with a low growl rumbling on his throat.

“Towel… towel…”

It seemed that his mannerism abruptly returned, or perhaps it was the guilt. Scratching the back of his head, he rummaged about the kitchen while motioning you to stay put.

“Over… over... there,” you motioned toward the checkered towel that hung loosely from the oven’s handle.

Sy reached for it, hastily cleaning his semi-hard shaft before moving to stand between your thighs once more. His eyes grew focused and silent as a drowsy summer lake, while he wiped you clean in the tenderness of a long-time lover.

You couldn’t help but stare, you wished you could share his stillness - raw and already sore, you attempted to loosen your clenching throat and heaving chest, abashed by the hiss of your breath and by the visible quake in your bucking arms.

Whatever remaining energy you have in you waned at every passing second.

“Are you okay?”

You flinched at his question, trembling even more.

Noticing your distress, he placed on hand on your leg and caressed you gently, trying to reassure you with a grin and another chaste kiss on the base of your knee.

“Did I fuck the words right outta’ your brain?”

If you hadn’t felt so guilty, ashamed and incredibly stupid, you would have snorted at his poor joke, instead, you swatted a hand over your forehead and shrugged. “I think so…” you lied.

The fear in your voice was not absent to Syverson, whose face fell to unmistakable dread. Discarding the towel, he chewed onto his inner cheeks in what you could only interpret as his nervous habit. With his warm palm wrapped across your knee, he gave a light squeeze.

“Hey, look at me.”

Blue shimmering kindness met your gaze, attempting to disperse over your anxiety.

“I meant what I said, I…” he halted, swallowing a deep gulp of courage.

You meant to open your mouth and retort when Syverson shook his head and sighed as if this was a scene he had already witnessed numerous times before, “you don’t see me this way, do you?”

Within seconds you realised - behind Syverson’s arrogant facade hid a vulnerable schoolboy, standing in front of the girl and waiting for her to say yes.

“Don’t be an idiot, sugarbutt,” you half-whispered and stroked a hand over his furry cheek.

Though he avoided smiling, a glint of joy lit his eyes. He made a quick attempt in fixing your dress, which felt like someone trying to tape together a broken vase and after a short struggle, finally gave up and with a mumbled apology let you off the table and wrapped his hands around your wrists.

Your once-lovely kitchen had seen better days, though you suspected you looked far worse. No matter how many times you tried to keep your dress together, the red straps of your dress continued to slip down your forearms.

'You owe me a dress, Logan...'

"We will clean up this mess, tomorrow?" Sy suggested, surveying the kitchen with a sigh. His eyes met with the shame that stained the table and you both cleared your throat but said nothing more.

Nearly an hour passed. Spent on the couch you munched on hot popcorn and watched a film you could only describe as the most horrendous piece of cinematic trash ever made. But your heart was hardly in it, anyway. Pressed into his chest, your fingers clutched onto his pectoral, trying to force away from the concern that swam heavily in your gut and on occasion gnawed at it like a pesky little fish.

‘What if? What if? What if?’ Your mind screamed along with the actress in the movie who was running toward her doom.

As if sensing your dread, Sy squeezed his hand around your shoulder and nuzzled your cheek, silencing each one of your doubts and fears, at least until sunrise.

Extra credits:

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I don't own Sand Castle or Captain Syverson

2K notes · View notes