Captain Syverson One Shots / Drabbles

The Model (Fluff)

Summary: Syverson is a nude model in your art class

Pairing: Syverson x Reader (No mention of body type or ethnicity)

Words: 1k

Warning: 18+, male nudity, mentions of smut, reader is Shy and introverted, hinted anxiety.

N/A: I didn't mean for it to be longer than a few paragraphs but I was having fun with it. Not Beta'd, I die on my mistakes like August slipping of a cliff, getting a hook in the head and falling into an explosion.

Please vote and comment if you enjoyed my work 🖤

The Model

Thursday evenings were your little escape from reality. A new girl in a sleepy town, you haven't had much of a chance to make any friends yet, or maybe it was that you didn't quite know how to.

Never being an extroverted person, you hardly hung out with others, and even work outings made you feel somewhat estranged. However, this little art class you found became the closest to social you ever felt. Most people who attended the workshop were just as timid as you found yourself to be, making conversation less intimidating and overwhelming as it tended to be.

Like every Thursday, you made your way down the stuffy basement where your class took place. It appeared like every ordinary evening, at first; your classmates greeted you with a nod and a smile and then returned to scrolling their phones while waiting for the teacher.

Yet something strange waved in the atmosphere. Aside from the scent of oil, acrylics and cheap coffee, a certain earthy muskiness hunkered in the air, an aroma that reminded you of lush green forests full of fertile soil.

Briefly, you inhaled the air and took your seat by the easel, just in time for the teacher to clap her hands to gather everyone's attention.

"Thanks, everyone who joined us on this breezy summer eve," she breathed with her usual thin smile; though observant as you were, you caught a hint of red tinting her cheeks.

Fixing her hair, she chuckled, "as discussed last week, you will be practising a living nude model for the next couple of hours, and I have brought you quite the specimen."

Sneakers and whispering soon filled the room. Clueless, you turned your head from side to side, watching both men and women as they chattered lowly. Perking your ears, you managed to catch some of the mumbles.

"I think it's him..."

"I saw him on Instagram!"

"Oh my god, I don't know how I can handle seeing him naked!"

While you wondered whom they were speaking of so enthusiastically, the door behind the teacher opened up slowly, making all chatter die at once.

Maybe the air suddenly grew thicker, or your lungs decided to grow heavy because, for a passing moment, you found it hard to breathe. You recognised him from your Instagram feed immediately - the Bull of Austin, the man who made half of the internet go crazy for his thirsty snaps.

He was even taller than what he looked like in his photos and the type of handsome that makes people make foolish mistakes.

Standing in a ragged robe, Syverson's eyes made a quick scan of the room while the teacher spoke of what you were to do in the next 90 minutes. Though her speech was buried under the drumming in your ears as Syverson's glare briefly met yours.

There was a hint of a smile there, you thought, beaming in his ocean-blue gaze, but you dropped your eyes to the floor before you could make a thing of it as you felt your cheeks starting to burn under his sight.

'Don't be a child!' You rebuked. It was probably just in your mind, and you were sure that others were convinced he was smirking at them as well.

You lifted your eyes again, just in time to witness the robe slip off his shoulder and pile by his feet.

Tiny little hairs stood on your arms as you shivered and unbidden, your thighs clenched. A master Sculptor must have crafted the man who stood naked before you; he was perfect and flawed at once. A man muscular with skin kissed by the Texan sun and dust of feral dark hair that covered his taut torso.

Naturally, your eyes followed the thick trail that descended his groin. As the size of his cock fully resonated in your mind, you battled a shuddering exhale that threatened to escape your quivering lips.

The worst of it was that he was flaccid, and you couldn't help but ask yourself how large he would be when thick with desire. Not that you were ever to find out.

Confident, Syverson stood in the pose of Bartolomeo's Neptune, both his ragged face and manhood appearing proud at the sound of pencils sketching on canvas. A man like him must have enjoyed being worshipped; it was quite apparent from his Instagram account and the photos he posted.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you breathed in deeply and cursed yourself for choosing a seat so conveniently close and at the corner of his eye. But then you forced yourself to be mature and, with another inhale, began sketching.

You did best to avoid staring at his face, trying to remember the technique the teacher taught you while she meandered around the class, observing the students' work.

But there was something about him, something wild and almost ethereal. You swore you could hear it, calling by your name, whispering dirty little secrets of how this man would take away from this class on his heavy motorcycle and in a dark alleyway claiming your body as his toy.

Drifting into fantasies, you imagined what it would be like to dig your nails into his sturdy back and feel the flesh tear beneath your scratch as he pounds you against the musty brick wall.

These thoughts solely have made you soak through your panties, and chewing your bottom lip, you couldn't help but grind your thighs together to relieve the tension that throbbed heavily at your little cove.

It was but a short lapse of mind. Your head must have been disoriented as you clenched on the little stool, but then you heard that voice calling you again, and when you lifted your head to glance at Syverson once again, you felt cold sweat cover your entire body.

With a hungry smirk in his eyes, he raked you, watching you move on your chair like a sultry nymph. And just as you thought it couldn't get any worse, he offered you a wink.

Never in your life did you pack your belonging and escape a classroom in such speed and manner. Rushing through the stairs, you wanted to scream and cry at the same time but knew you would have to wait until you make it home or at least find a secluded area.

'Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!' You cursed, relieved to feel the cool August air caressing your face as finally, you made it to the street.

Hurrying toward the bus, you shot your head over your shoulder as if to make sure you weren't being followed though it was pretty obvious - the most embarrassing moment in your life was nothing but another regular day for a man like Sy.

You hoped you'll never see him again.

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