#jamneuromain

You sighed contentedly with your face buried in his chest, your body settling into his comforting embrace as you breathed in the woodsy, familiar scent of his skin. The hair dusting across his burly chest tickled your cheeks pleasantly and you shifted closer, hitching your bare thigh over his hip. Because you wore only one of Sy’s t-shirts, your uncovered core pressed to the soft cotton of Sy’s boxers, and you felt his bulge twitch against your warmth.

A little shiver raced down your spine, but you were still too sleepy to do anything about the length hardening between your thighs. Besides, Sy didn’t seem inclined to take things further yet either, as he rumbled a deep snore.

The both of you dozed for a little while, until a deep, reverberating groan in Sy’s chest roused you again. It was only then that you discovered your hips were rocking gently against your boyfriend’s cock, stirring up a heat that crashed through your body as soon as you became aware. A soft gasp left your lips, and Sy groaned louder, knowing you were awake.

“Ya gotta stop, or ‘m not gonna be able to let ya sleep anymore, bunny,” Sy rumbled, his voice far too warm with sleepy pleasure to sound the least bit warning. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his beard tickling your skin, and you smiled into his chest, enjoying the heat curling deliciously through your body.

Stretching up, you reached blindly for Sy’s mouth, your eyes still closed and, after some fumbling, managed to kiss your boyfriend good morning. His arms squeezed you tightly as you kissed lazily, knowing you had all the time in the world to spend the morning in bed together.

“Maybe I’m done sleeping, daddy,” you murmured against his mouth when you broke the kiss. You rolled your body more purposefully, grinding your naked pussy against the bulge in Sy’s boxers and delighted in his grunt of pleasure. “Maybe I wanna feel you stuff that big cock of yours deep in my needy pussy.” 

Sy rumbled a chastising sound. “Christ, the mouth ya got on ya, bunny,” he muttered. Still, he slid his big hand down between your bodies, cupping your pussy possessively and thrusting two fingers inside to test your readiness. You were wet and slick for him, and he dragged a moan from your lips while he fucked you. His tone managed some menace as he growled, “Maybe I should shove my cock into that filthy mouth of yours and show you what dirty girls get for rilin’ up their daddies.” 

“Nooo, please,” you begged, pouting up at him and fluttering your lashes in the way that had Sy’s cock twitching against your thigh, his precum leaking onto your soft skin. “I’m already so wet for you, daddy, would you really deny me when my tight little hole is dripping and begging for you?” 

With a tortured groan, Sy rolled you onto your back, his hips settling between your thighs and pushing you open wide with his broad body. Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he slipped them into your mouth, and you eagerly sucked your own arousal from his skin. 

“Good girl,” he rumbled, the hint of a smile curving his mouth. 

While you were busy cleaning his fingers, Sy shoved his boxers down and lined up his cock with your entrance. He smacked your messy folds with the heavy head of his cock, watching as your eyes went heavy lidded and you moaned around his fingers. He removed them from your mouth and grinned when you let out a desperate whine. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a gasp, writhing beneath your boyfriend’s broad form.

Thankfully, Sy wasn’t interested in any more teasing and he pushed into your needy, aching hole. Your back arched up off the bed and you let out a sharp cry, enjoying the feeling of his thick cock stretching out your tight cunt. No matter how many times he fucked you, it always felt like Sy was pressing the air from your lungs and rearranging your insides to make room to accomodate his fat cock.

“Feel so fucking good, bunny,” Sy groaned when he was buried inside you, his balls pressing against your ass. For a long moment, he stayed there, his eyes closing like he was savoring the tight warmth of your body. “Christ, I could live in your cunt—ya feel like you were made for me.”

He was so big and hard and hot inside you that you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, your knees climbing his sides so he could push even deeper into your cunt. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and you moaned loudly, your inner walls gripping his hard length like your body wanted to suck him even deeper. You were practically folded in half beneath the beefy body of your boyfriend, but it wasn’t enough, you needed him to move, to fuck you—to empty his balls into you and fill you up with his seed.

“Be still.” The words were little more than an unintelligible growl from your Sy’s mouth. 

You whimpered, your hips rocking up against him, fucking yourself on his cock ever so slightly. Even if you wanted to stop, you didn’t think it was possible—not when you needed him so badly. “I can’t.” 

“Yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?” Sy’s hand gripped your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “If you don’t stop, I’m not going to be able to hold back,” he warned, his face grim with barely leashed desire. “I’m gonna flood your unprotected pussy with my come and I’m gonna knock you up—is that what you want?”

Even if you’d wanted to lie and tell him it wasn’t at all what you wanted, your body answered Sy’s question for you, your cunt squeezing his cock even harder, like you were wordlessly begging him to put a baby in your belly. But you knew your boyfriend would never do anything if you didn’t say the words, so you forced your mind to focus through the pleasure and delirious need to get the words out. 

“I want it, daddy,” you admitted on a whimper, crying out when Sy pulled back, only to surge forward and make your whole body shake with the force of his thrust. With your confession out in the open between you, it seemed to loosen your tongue and a flood of words fell from your lips. “I want you to knock me up, I want you to put a baby in me—your baby, Sy—I want you to make me a mommy, please, daddy!” 

“Jesus christ, bunny,” Sy ground out as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against your thighs while he thrust deep into your cunt. “Ya want daddy to breed you—ya wanna be daddy’s good little breeding bunny, huh?” 

“Yes, yes yes,” you cried, gripping Sy’s broad shoulders, your cunt squeezing his cock. You were so close. “Breed me, daddy—Sy, please—please!” 

“Fuck,” he grunted, pausing to reposition his hips. Then he was grinding against your clit with every brutal thrust into your cunt and it wasn’t long before you screamed your release. Your whole body clenched tight, making Sy groan like he was in pain as your pussy gripped his cock so hard, his release quickly followed yours. 

Sy captured your lips in a messy kiss, his beard burning your cheeks and chin as hips stilled. You felt his cock twitch deep in your fluttering cunt, and the rush of his come overflowing your pussy, dripping down your ass. You shivered and moaned into Sy’s mouth, your hands clinging to his shoulders and neck while your bodies came together in the most primal way possible.

When you were finally sated and the last of his come had been wrung from his cock, Sy rolled over onto his back, taking you with him. Your bodies were still connected, the evidence of your releases making a mess of the both of you. You sighed contentedly and snuggled into Sy’s chest, a happy smile on your face.

“I s’pose I should officially move in, huh?” Sy asked, a bit of playfulness seeping into his deep, satisfied drawl. 

“You better,” you muttered, putting a little poutiness into the words, which made Sy chuckle. Pushing yourself up, you gave Sy a kiss before pulling away and shooting him a stern look. “Then you might wanna start thinking about putting a ring on my finger,” you said pointedly, arching one of your brows.

Sy grinned so wide, it made his beard twitch. Without looking away from you, he opened the bedside table drawer and pulled something out. You didn’t see what it was until you felt him slip something onto your left ring finger. With a gasp, you finally looked away to see the pretty engagement ring he’d just put on you.

“Way ahead o’ ya, bunny,” he murmured, tipping your chin to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “Assuming it’s a yes, of course.”

You snorted. “Of course, it’s a yes,” you said, a giggle of joy in your tone. Then you kissed him again—and again and again and again. 

Eventually, you settled back down on Sy’s chest, unable to keep your eyes off the ring, turning your hand this way and that so you could admire the way it sparkled so prettily in the bright morning sunshine. Already, you were picturing a spring wedding—Sy would look so handsome in a suit beneath an arch of spring flowers…

Your head spun a little with how much your life had changed on that spring morning, but you couldn’t be happier. You were going to become Mrs. Syverson and start a family with your captain—but the best part was that you’d get to start every morning cuddling with the love of your life. 

just a second ago, you were walking to the main conference room on the top floor, following just a few feet behind mr. o'hara.

per usual, you were going over the main points of his presentation and the people that will be attending so he could get a good idea of the investors he'll be persuading for money.

you were yanked to the side before you could reach the elevator and pulled into a dark closet. your papers went everywhere, scattering across the waxed marble floors of the office. what a mess.

and you were forced to leave it out there because as soon as you were snatched away, you were trapped inside the tiny room. you could barely even let out a yelp before a soft pair of lips covered yours.

spiced cologne fills your space as he pushes closer, pinning you to the door. you try to push him away, your small hand against his broad chest.

his suit is going to wrinkle, you think. and my lipstick, he'll be wearing it soon.

"sir--" his hands squeeze at your waist.

"mm...i love it when you call me that"

your voice remains low but it's urgent, "please!"

"don't worry baby, we'll get there."

"no, that's not--you have to present soon," you struggle to pull your hand up with the little space he's allowing, but you manage and check your watch, "we only have ten minutes!"

Let’s discuss Ari:

Throughout Ari’s undergrad degree, he played football and was greatly interested in world policies, so everyone thought once his sports career and degree was over, he’d be ready to get out there. Nope. He really wasn’t sure where to start, so instead, he decided to keep going with schooling.

His grades were just good enough for him to get into the program you were applying to now. Varsity athletics looked great on the application and his charm was the extra boost. Now that he’s in it though, it’s been almost seven years instead of the usual four to five. Part of it is him going in without much of a plan, wanting to try every avenue, while the other is him just not caring enough to push further and just finish the degree. He’s getting paid just enough to get by and no one has threatened to kick him out, so he enjoys the coasting and the free time it gives for him to look into his actual passions.

Part of the PhD program is all of the grad students sitting in a room grading exams of undergrads every few weeks, and during this, Ari really shows his personality. They have to sit there for hours on end, and it can get boring, so Ari will tell stories to the kid next to him to pass the time, except the room is so quiet that everyone hears. These will range from the various dates with odd girls, to that time he saw a video of someone cooking salmon in the dishwasher, so he tried it out. “It was pretty decent. I swear it’s Kosher! I would do it again if it didn’t take so long.”

Any time he gets trusted to teach, which is rare since his advisor doesn’t really want it in order to guarantee the kids are being taught correct content, questions are not answered very well. It’s either with a “hell if I know. Use google. That’s how they do it in the real world.” Or “wait for the professor to get back. This isn’t my expertise.” Both technically valid, but not what a younger student wants to hear from someone in a position of authority.

Star Student Steve:

Steve was born for upper-level studies. He’s been ready to graduate essentially since getting into the program, knowing exactly what he wanted to research right off the bat. He knows all the content well and is well-liked by students and professors alike. The undergrads have a habit of ogling him and crowding his office hours, so you never even bothered to go. Pending his early graduation, he’s already been offered a job at the university with a full federal research grant, which he could use to travel or gain equipment for his projects. He’s probably considering this, unless one of the prime companies/agencies gives him a better offer. He can’t wait for the opportunity to make new rules and discoveries in the field, just needs to find the best route to get him there. (Talk about a CPH4 brain, haha)

With all of this going on, though, he doesn’t have time for much else. Sure, he’s very kind, but he’s always on the move. Students are not his first priority right now if he wants everything in place to be successful and make history. When it comes to picking an advisor, everyone wants Steve, but after hearing all that, and the standard he might hold you to without giving you the time of day to reach that level, do you really want him?

My wonderful choice Curtis:

(Even before I saw my options, this description was screaming ‘Curtis’ to me.)

He’s definitely the kind of silent student who puts his head down and does his work because it’s difficult stuff. Some may say it’s even more difficult than Steve’s if they knew what Curtis actually did, but he’s so silent and keeps it to himself unless he’s asked. It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, it’s more because when he’s interacting with students, he understands his job is to help them first and foremost. Although Curtis may have been busy, he never rushed and made sure his full attention was on the task or person at hand.

All the Professors know Curtis and really like him for his work ethic and ability to maintain balance and remain a grounded person, except he’s just not a poster boy like Steve. For this reason, his advisor trusts him enough to teach certain classes since Curtis parses out his time well and not only knows the content, but cares about it deeply. At the end of his lectures, though, when he asks for questions, it’s radio silence. Perhaps it’s because he taught the material so well, but even Steve and Ari get the odd question about their research or last Sunday’s football game. Curtis gets disinterested stares until he dismisses everyone. Office hours are pretty quiet, too, until right around exam time when a few students come to him for help since everywhere else was so full. After seeing how helpful he is, yourself included, they keep going back to him, keeping it to themselves, though, keeping him their hidden secret gem.

The lack of recognition Curtis gets is a shame, though, because he’s so nice. Actually, not just nice, but genuinely kind. When you were assigned with him as your advisor, you weren’t really sure what to do. Not many talked about him and the stoic demeanor was a little intimidating, until you actually spoke with each other. He was so sweet and engaged, asking you questions and providing guidance not only on what he thought might work the best, but how to go about it and how to properly convey ideas to the committee panel members at the end. He gave you his phone number, too, in case you needed any help at all, saying he’d pick up anytime.

When you asked him for your letter of recommendation, he was elated. “No one has ever come to me for that before, but ofc. When do you need it? Send your transcripts btw. And your resume.”

Curtis was right, though, he had never had to be the voice of authority vouching on someone’s behalf since up until this point, he was in your exact shoes. “Don’t be nervous to ask questions, but I also don’t want you to think that I’ve got all the answers and you’re not good enough. The only difference between you and me academically is like four classes content-wise. I just have more hands-on experience.” He said it with a soft, reassuring smile that really put you at ease.

He’s aware of the system, and of course he hates it, because he knows what it’s like to be at the bottom. Throughout his time putting together your recommendation, he’s messaging you with updates. “I’m going to add this because they really like to see it specifically highlighted,” or “I’m not even sure what they’re asking here, but it’s fucking stupid if you ask me. Conventions like this are ridiculous. I hate that these decisions are made by people who aren’t even on the ground. If they actually took part in this program, they’d see you’re more than qualified to get into it. But no, for some reason, all important decisions are made by old people so far removed from actual work.”

That second one was in person, though. It wouldn’t look good to have him saying those things in writing. He rolls his eyes before switching back to his reassuring, charming self.

“Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s good.”

And then as he sits down to write, he constantly sends you lines from it. “Does this sound too braggy? Am I hyping up your work too much? I feel like it wouldn’t be fair if I was casual about it, but we’re rocking with a lot of enthusiasm right now and idk where the line is where it’ll seem insincere.😅”

You tend to hang around Curtis a lot while you’re working on finishing up. On small work breaks, he tells you about the weird little things the other PhD students have sent to his email. “I’m what, four years older than you? And so are these other guys, but I swear they act like they’re twelve.” It helps you to laugh at his small little complaints in a time of building stress. He lets you into his life and you see he’s a normal person, just a few years older than you. He’s the whole reason you know about Ari and the dishwasher salmon, and he helps to break down the barriers you feel against everyone in his program that seems to know so much. Half of your conversation is weird everyday things about his life you’re sure no one else has given him the space to talk about. “You texted me while I was watching the hockey game, they were losing anyway so I was grateful to do something else.” He was in the city…at the actual hockey game…drinking a beer and scrolling emails…. Or “my apartment has a no pet policy, but my roommate got a cat, so I hope you don’t mind the little guy joining us today. Just while the landlord does some maintenance so we don’t get kicked out.” He’s half shuffling through the papers on his desk, half giving you an amused smile thinking of the whole situation. Of course, it can’t all be personal, though, so he continues to sprinkle advice in here and there.

“Also, if you wanna keep your sanity around here, keep away from Levinson’s advisor. Not only is he just straight-up a ridiculous man, but he won’t push you if he likes you. And if he hates you, you’ll know it a mile away. That’s why I never chose him for my committee meeting.”

As you prepare to defend your thesis, Curtis is sitting with you in the hallway. He’s been prepping you for this presentation for weeks, but for peace of mind, he asks you potential questions as you wait to be called in. He holds a paper copy of your thesis, saying once again “you’ve got this. Just like the rehearsals. No one knows this stuff better than you. Show them that.” As you stand in front of the small crowd, he gives you a thumbs-up and watches with approving nods as your blow it out of the water.