sammylibrary

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Hey Noots! I see you are on hiatus, so hopefully it’s okay I submit this!

I just wanted to make sure our Captain’s accomplishment was well known! Anthony received an honorary doctorate today so that’s Dr Mackie to all those pursed lipped tight asses who like to forget about him. Let’s here it for Captain America!

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/wanderingmindblogsposts/686867906346270720?source=share

Hi!!

Omg that’s amazing♥️♥️

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There's something for EVERYONE. And it's all for free! It's been for free for years, and it is the creator's wish that it remains accessible to everyone who might need this kind of aid in life. I am using it to write this post right now. Though if you read some of the above index, you may have noticed that the support for the website has been very low lately.

Which brings me to the reason I'm making this post. Mynoise is curated and maintained by a single person:

Please check out the Mynoise Index for yourself, donate if you can, and tell your friends who might be interested ♡

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Writers don't need to explain why they didn't post. They don't owe you excuses. But you sure do owe them decency because they are people.

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maybe if we start a thread of showing our like to reblog ratio readers will ACTUALLY understand and get the memo lmao

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Bonus:

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hi, sorry to interrupt your scrolling, but I just wanted to remind you that you are beautiful and loved. thanks! carry on

[sammylibrary]

Sam Wilson

Avengers (2016)

[sammylibrary]

Little Things// Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Just Sam softness, that's all.

masterlist

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He'll watch you set the phone down, defeated. Another reminder of the things you've done wrong, expectations you haven't lived up to. Another round of guilt and shame because you're not what your family wants you to he like. Hands on the kitchen counter, head lowered, you puff a breath as you try to keep your tears at bay. His hands find their way on your shoulders, kneading the tension away. Your head comes to rest against his shoulder and he'll kiss your temple with pride, "I'm so grateful I get to have a life with you," Sam says. His arms wind around your waist and you sway.

He'll always kiss your forehead and say he loves you before he leaves for a mission. You'll burrow yourself into his chest, desperate to become him so you wouldn't have to worry about what's happening to him while he's away. He'll hold you tighter, before walking you to bed again, tucking you in, reminding you that he's always with you. He'll put his shirts in the dryer to warm them up for you to wear later because that's the closest he'll come to holding you in his arms for a while.

He'll send you pictures of random things when he's on his morning run- cute animals, trees to picnic under, clouds that are funky shapes, rocks. You have to keep backing them up on hard drives because your phone only has so much memory. But that's okay, Sam's cute enough. He'll take pictures of you when you're napping on him, all drool and lines imprinted on you from his shirt's creases. He doesn't send those to you. Those are for him to remember you by when he's away. And for blackmail when you threaten to show Bucky and Joaquin his baby pictures.

He'll watch you give your all to everyone but yourself. You listen when all you want is to be listened to, you'll let grudges go because 'life is too short, Sam', he'll watch people take you for granted because you'd rather that than live without giving love away. He loves you for it but it also hurts him to see it. So he'll do for you what you do for everyone- listen, understand, love those parts of you that you've learned to hate. There's no changing you but he can always love you. It's not hard for him in the slightest.

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A/n: Hey I'm back! I hope you liked this one. Please comment, reblog and like- keeps me going. Love youuu <3

Tags: @lil-stark @turbolisedcomet @nelleana @fluffyprettykitty @fluffycutecevans @chrisfucksblog @commonintrest @musingsinmoonlight @softasha @sammylibrary @janetsnakehole02 <333

[sammylibrary]

For the Drabble Tuesday, could I possibly trouble you for hurt/comfort with Sam Wilson 👀💙

For you lovely, always and never any trouble. I hope I've done this justice for you.

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader

Word Count - 1017 ( a little over but Sam deserves our love)

Warnings - fluffy goodness. Taking care of Sam.

A/N - Drabble Tuesday

Summary - Sam always takes care of others, today you show him he deserves to be taken care of, even if it means hanging up on Generals for him.

Early morning sunlight bathed the kitchen in dazzling rays. The blue green glass bottles on the windowsill glistened flecks of colours across Sam’s shirt you wore, as you quietly pottered about. The scent of fresh coffee brewing mixed with buttery croissants baking in the oven made for a delicious, homely feeling. It wasn’t often you got to spend your morning’s baking, not with the recent influx of missions the Airforce and GRC were sending you all on. Trying to ease the growing tension that the world now faced as new threats seemed to surface every week. Old enemies trying to regain what they had lost during the blip, while new enemies tried to hold on to what they had gained in those five years.

You snorted at the thought, holding no love for the GRC and their methods, or the way they were attempting to tie strings to Sam now that they recognised him as Captain America.

After he saved their asses, and then handed their asses in a speech, nobody was going to forget in a hurry.

You had never been very good at holding your tongue with politicians, and both you and Bucky were ready to throw punches if they continued to push, but Sam took it in his stride. Taking the weight of the world on his shoulders, right alongside the weight of the mantle, Captain America seemed to hold. It was for his sake, and his sake alone, you held your tongue now.

The sound of a phone vibrating pulled you out of your thoughts, and absently you reached for it. You had stolen Sam’s phone from his side of the bed the moment you had woken. Wanting to give him a few more hours’ rest, before the world demanded his attention.

The name that flashed on the phone brought with it a wave of disgust.

We have only been back five hours, and already they want Sam for something.

“Hello.” You greeted, barely able to keep the heat from your tone.

“Agent L/N, I need to speak to the Captain.”

“Is the world ending?” You snapped.

“Agent?”

“It was a simple question. Is. The. World. Ending?”

The stutter at the other end of the phone, a clear sign your tone, surprised him. “Um, no. We need to debrief, and new intel has come in regarding the Flag Smashers.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon, Agent L/N.”

“I said no. You don’t get to click your fingers and Sam comes running. We have spent the last week on a mission. He is getting today to unwind. He is getting today to do whatever the hell he wants to do. Unless the world is ending, you are going to have to wait.”

“Agent!”

“Ex-Agent. I’m freelance, and you don’t hold that kind of authority over me anymore. I said no.”

Your heart thudded against your chest as you hit the end call button, and promptly switched Sam’s phone off. Using your own, you fired a quick message to both Bucky and Sharon to give them the heads up, before turning your own phone off.

Sam needed a day to let his body rest. To take a breather from all the blood and violence that they emerged themselves in daily and you would move mountains to make sure that he got just that.

The timer dinged on the oven, bringing your focus back to the task at hand at making Sam breakfast in bed.

You plated up the croissants, tossed some fresh fruit into a bowl and poured the coffee into two cups, and arranged it onto the tray, before carrying it back into the bedroom.

With the covers pushed down to his waist and tangled between his legs. You took a moment to admire the physique of your lover, the slow steady rise of his chest, one arm above his head. His eyes still closed.

God, did you love this man with all your heart.

You stepped further into the bedroom, careful to not make a sound. Worry creasing your brow. Already you could see the darkening of bruises along his torso, and arms, a painful reminder that as strong and as skilled a fighter Sam was, at how well he kept up and took out super soldiers and aliens, he didn’t have the serum to help him heal after being injured.

“Honey, did you hang up on the General?” He asked, one warm brown eye opening as he looked at you.

“You heard that?” You asked in surprise.

“I was waking up and heard you on the phone,” he drawled.

“They need to leave you alone,” you huffed as you placed the tray on the bed between you and slipped back between the covers. “I made sure the world wasn’t ending before I hung up. I have a heart. I just care about you more.”

His lips turned into a smile as he tilted his head to look at you from his pillow.

“Is that the scent of fresh croissants I can smell?”

“It is,” you nodded slowly, popping a blueberry in your mouth.

“How long have you been awake?” He asked, giving you a small frown, worry filling his gaze.

You shrugged. “A few hours. Couldn’t sleep. I’m always wired after a mission for a couple of days.”

Sam sighed softly as he pushed himself up to rest against the headboard, swallowing the wince as he stretched too much.

“You could have woken me and you didn’t have to go to all this effort for me.”

You threw him a look.

“You needed your rest. You deserve to be taken care of, Sam. I’m more than happy to do that.”

He leaned over, capturing your lips with his own. A soft tender kiss that left you breathless and dizzy, before pulling back. A cheeky grin on his face, and a glint in his eyes.

“So I get today to do whatever I want?”

You nodded slowly, your heart fluttering in your chest as the way he seemed to undress you with his gaze.

“Whatever you want, baby. Today is yours. I’m here to take care of you in any way I can.”

“In that case, today I want to do you as many ways as I can.”

You smiled at him.

"How about, you let me take care of you baby. I can kiss it all better."

The groan that escaped Sam's lips, made your smile widen as you looked at him with lust-filled eyes. Yes, today was going to be a day all about Sam.

[sammylibrary]

"Are you good?" "Never better." w/ Sam

Words: under 400

Warnings: smut only, use of sex toys, p in v, daddy kink, pet names, dirty talk.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT MINORS DNI

"Give it to me, come on, give one more to daddy, baby."

Another moan escapes from your lips as you roll your hips and take a deeper breath. Sam presses the vibrator harder against your clit, keeping you warm and secure inside his lap. It was only an hour ago when he started teasing you, testing your new toy, wondering how much you can take. Not a minute in and you were already begging for his cock and yet he wasn't giving it to you. What's the use of a toy when you can the real thing and yet he insisted. His own cock stayed throbbing inside the condiment of his sweatpants, you could feel it pressing hard against your back.

"Sam, please, please, fuck me. I- fuck!" Your orgasm hits you, taking over your whole body as Sam softly kisses your neck and turns the vibrator off. He sets it aside and then slowly he massages your breasts while he openly kisses your neck, trying hard to catch your breath. Your legs have grown weak and you desperate hold on to your biceps trying to convince him to turn around.

"Easy, easy, baby girl." His voice is low and soothing yet he seems unbothered by your movements.

"You've been good, very good. Daddy might just give you exactly what you want."

"Yes, daddy, please, I'll be good, I promise." You nod your head frantically escaping from his lap and kneeling yourself on the bed. With quick hands you tug at his waistband, pushing it down, and without wasting another moment you straddle him. Wouldn't want him to change his opinion anytime soon.

"Finally!" You whine out while you take his cock in your hand, using his leaking precum you spread it on his cock and stroke him once or twice eliciting low groans from him. Then you push his cockhead inside your pussy lips, a loud moan leaving your lips throwing your head back as you begin to sink down on him.

His hands go to your hips, softly caressing your skin before gripping it tightly. His beautiful brown eyes are fixated on you, taking in your sight and the way your breath hitched.

"Are you good?"

"Never better." You breathe out and slowly roll your hips against him holding on to the chain around his chest.

Now, you weren't planning on letting his cock leave your cunt anytime soon.

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SAM WILSON in THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER | 1.06 One World, One People

[sammylibrary]

All I Ever Wanted

This is my fic for the Stardaya fic exchange by @zendayacs​​ and @palestxrlight​​! This fic was written for @darezaddy​, so I hope you enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader (gender neutral) Word count: 1055 Warnings: None Summary: Every time Sam comes home from missions, he wants nothing more than to just be with you.

Keep reading

[sammylibrary]

Something Sweet

Pairing: Sam Wilson x reader (no other specifications or gender)

Word Count: 377 words

Outline:  Coming home to your boyfriend baking.

Warnings: Use of pet names (pretty boy, angel). Not Beta'd, all mistakes are mine!

Author’s Note: my second submission for this challenge for @late-to-the-party-81, and @yarnforbrains. I used the following prompts (..."A Whatcha doing? B Learning a new language/recipe/trick." "Well, this is new."...). Did I write this today because I looked at the date? Maybe so.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics​

🌟 Please reblog and comment if you want to, all feedback is appreciated and warmly encouraged and allows me to know what people are interested in reading🌟

Main Masterlist || Sam Wilson Masterlist

The sweet smell is the first thing pulling you in once you set a step inside your shared apartment. Placing your keys and your coat by the close by table, you take more steps inside calling your boyfriend's name but to no answer.

Following its trail, you find your handsome boyfriend wearing a tank top and some sweatpants, working on kneading the dough between his calloused fingers. What a beautiful warm sight to greet you home.

“Whatcha doing there?” You ask curiously, is no lie that Sam liked cooking, what you didn’t know was if he liked baking too. That was definitely the first time you witnessed something like that.

“Learning a new recipe. Thought my beautiful partner would love me even more if I treat them a little extra today.”

“Well, this is new. Your partner is not going to complain about having some more love from the sweetest man in the world.”

“You do know how to flatter a man, y/n.”

"You make it oh, so easy, pretty boy."

He lets the dough sit aside as he is drying his hands on the kitchen towel and steps closer to you to greet you with a tender kiss.

“I know how much you like apple pie. Thought I could learn to make some myself. Just for you, angel.”

His words flatter you, how could you ever have been so lucky to score such a perfect man? Basking in the glory of your love, he instructs you to wash your hands, and then he is wrapping an apron around your body.

"I bet it will taste amazing."

"Anything you make with love will taste like heaven is what my grandma used to say."

You agreed. Grandma isn't wrong. You wash your hands while musing about your day and then you're listening to him as he tells you how many cooking videos he studied. Forty-four. This apple pie will taste like heaven purely out of spite. (and hard work!)

The rest of the evening passes quietly, cutting apples together, mixing up ingredients, and preparing the cream. Two hours later you were finally making the apple pie. Hands working together, arm over arm, soft glances, and big laughs. The start of something new; Beautiful sweet little moments in time.

[sammylibrary]

un-thinkable

sam wilson x f!reader (angst and fluff)

summary: there's only one bed.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence

part of the exes collection

a/n: first full fic for MY captain america, sam wilson 💕 title from "un-thinkable (i'm ready)" by alicia keys

 You stare at the orangey water stains on the hotel room ceiling, cringing. Even through the thin bedding you had yanked off the closet shelf and laid out for yourself, the floor suddenly feels slimy under your back.

 A puff of steam hits your skin when Sam leaves the bathroom. His immediate disapproval falls on your ears. “Nuh-uh, c’mon.”

 You flex your fingers, intertwined behind your head. “What?”

 “Get up.”

 With effort, you keep your gaze fixated on the bloated off-white paint, not Sam’s half-naked body, freshly showered. “I’m fine here.”

 “Aren’t we professionals?” He chuckles, shutting the door and grabbing some sleeping clothes from his backpack. “It’s just one night.”

 “And as professionals, we shouldn’t sleep in the same bed.”

 “Aw. You scared of what might happen?” In your mind’s eye, you can see his face perfectly: eyebrow raised in challenge.

 Your shower takes twice as long as Sam’s. Not only do you use the moment to avoid thinking about him waiting on the other side of the door, but also to scrub the dirt underneath your nails after an entire day of trying to make headway on this case.

 Unlike him, you bring your pajamas to the sink counter so you can slip out of the bathroom fully dressed, thank you very much. When you emerge, you scrub your neck with the scratchy towel.

 Sam lays on the far side of the mattress, his big chest rising and falling beneath his folded hands. He blinks slowly at you, drowsily, despite his uncomfortable position above the covers. “Hey.”

 A sharp seizing in your heart. This is a terrible idea. Maybe the worst.

 Still, you sneak into the bed, the blanket forming a slight ramp over your body and beneath his. The solid headboard presses against your spine as you lean toward your bag, grabbing your computer. “If we hit another dead end, with this, Sam…”

 Signing in, you reopen your research, maps and newspaper articles and police reports. All connected, yet not enough to make your path any clearer.

 “Mmm?”

 “I think I’m done.”

 You never thought you’d miss the monotony of DC, but the faraway city tugs you: the countless bare-branched trees outside your apartment window in the fall, the reliability of your clean microwave and laundry machine. Your home since your freshman year of college, every corner of every street evokes a memory. Some good, some bad.

 For example, the convenience store near your place, where, a month ago, your pocket buzzed with a text from your ex-boyfriend inviting you for coffee. You almost dropped your phone, along with the snacks and toiletries precariously balanced in your grasp.

 A day later, Sam picked you up at your apartment, knocking like the proper gentleman he was at the beginning of your relationship. Before he learned he could just walk in, stepping right into your welcoming embrace.

 In the car, his breath formed a white cloud of smoke as he laughed politely at your customary chastisement of his clothing choices. You should wear gloves, it’s so cold.

 Even with your mittens, you covered your mouth, letting your palms steal the warm air stored in your lungs.

 “You look good,” he said, his gaze flicking over you. More of a statement than a compliment.

 At most, you styled your hair differently and wore a new sweater. Otherwise, you felt exactly the same, your purse stowed in your lap, Sam’s seatbelt strapped across your torso, as you half-watched the icy road and half-watched him drive. “You too.”

 He ordered for you, your favorite drink, and you didn’t quite know whether to find this endearing or a little annoying. Once you slid into a booth, his hand wrapped around a thick ceramic mug, letting the steam seep into his skin.

 Sam was seeking expertise for his latest mission or whatever, which you—as a failed private investigator, turned journalist—apparently had.

 Now, eyes closed, Sam murmurs, “That’s fair.” His fingers, spread and relaxed over his stomach, twitch slightly. “I don’t expect you to do this forever.”

 “Especially because you’re not paying me.”

 “Especially because I’m not paying you,” he echoes.

 As much as Sam was a bona fide Avenger now, Tony Stark had never been known for his generosity. You recall thinking that Sam should have access to better resources, people to help him that aren’t civilians like you. Yet, you agreed, not truly knowing how long it would take, or what you were really getting into.

 “How did you end up chasing a hundred-year-old assassin, anyway?”

 You wanted to ask this question before, in the coffee shop, but it hadn't mattered then. Sam was offering an adventure—an endeavor far more important and thrilling than the ultimately meaningless articles you had been churning out for two years—and you sorely needed to run.

 He hums. “Favor for a friend.”

 “Oh, boring.”

 “Boring, huh?” Sam laughs, deep enough for you to feel vibrations through the bed. His eyelids float open. “Isn’t that why you’re here, doing me a favor?”

 “But I thought you’d be avenging the fallen or something cool like that.” You click the dozens of windows and tabs, ignoring the way Sam rolls to face you, his arm curling beneath his cheek. “Aren’t you a superhero after everything you did for Captain America?”

 He scoffs, reaching under himself to pull at the cover. “That’s a stretch.”

 You watch nervously as he lets the duvet float over him, too conscious of how your thighs are bare and just a touch away.

 Sam loved your thighs. You liked them for their strength, but when he would get his hands and lips and gentle teeth on them, he’d insist that they were so soft. Perfect.

 You’d nip at his sculpted shoulders in retaliation.

 Your fingertips drum on either side of your laptop’s trackpad. You should keep quiet and let him sleep, yet your current circumstances renew a level of intimacy you haven’t experienced with anyone, let alone Sam, in a long time.

 Dark rooms and soft clothes and low-pitched voices. You remember countless nights with him, cheeks laid against chests, the thoughts spilling recklessly and comfortably from your throats.

 If you had the wings, and you could fly anywhere, where would you go?

 Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you pressed your smile to his collarbone. Depends, am I flying with you?

 You and me, baby.

 Your guard is dangerously low, being so near to him. So, you try to force your overactive mouth to at least stick with business talk. “Isn’t it your job to bring him down?”

 “You’re sayin’ that like I could.” Sam cranes his neck to read the headline of an article on your computer, pronouncing another mysterious death. He swallows.

 Unexplainable, precise, brutal.

 He swallows. Probably hopes you don't notice.

 It sends a shiver trickling along your spine. Distantly, you wonder if your name or IP address has been flagged, put on a list somewhere. You’ve covered your tracks as much as possible, but with a bit of digging and above-average skills, someone might ascertain that, for the past three months, you’ve been looking for The Winter Soldier.

 You shrug, a futile attempt to lighten the mood. “With the mods you’ve made on the suit and Redwing, maybe.”

 Last night, in your proper, two-bed hotel room, Sam had tinkered with the drone Tony Stark gifted him. It rested belly-up on the desk, dimly illuminated by an overhead lamp. His concentrated expression—that cute furrow of his brow—was the final thing you’d seen before falling asleep, a pillow crushed between your arms.

 “He’s a super soldier,” Sam says matter-of-factly, as if super soldier isn’t the most ridiculous name. Something a child would have made-believed.

 You sink further into the mattress, seeking the warmth that Sam radiated. A deflated, starchy pillow props up your shoulder blades.

 You twist your fingers together, cracking a couple. Distantly, you worry that these assassinations will somehow permeate your dreams, poisoning them into nightmares.

 “Still.” You shut your laptop and stow it away. “Shouldn’t somebody take him down?”

 “It’s not always about that.”

 “But—”

 "No, I need you to understand—"

 "Sam—"

 “He’s Steve’s friend.” His jaw ticks.

 “And you’re mine.”

 Your retort cracks apart the quiet of the room, sharp and echoing.

 Carefully inspecting a single spot on the ceiling, you fight the temptation to wrap yourself around him, to feel all those curves of his body along yours. You can’t remember the last time you did that, or why you ever stopped.

 Some pathetic reason, something to do with long distance. Your new career as a journalist, travelling. Feeling so far from each other, too often.

 “Sam, he’s killing people.”

 He releases a lengthy sigh, his frustration fading. “Wasn’t by choice.”

 Oh, Christ. You tilt your head to the right to confront him, your mouth opening to speak, but his half dozed-off look, with all its gentleness, stings the space right beneath your ribcage.

 So you lay on the bed, full contact, thinking about how soon you can book a return flight to DC. You haven’t handled this situation very well, this inevitable way you’re getting closer to Sam again. Especially when it happens at a rate a hundred times faster than you getting any closer to solving this fucking case.

 Still, it would be effortless. To reach over. To confirm that, at least in this moment: he’s here, he’s safe, he’s yours.

 He always used to fall asleep before you, a skill you envied. But, it had given you the chance to admire the peace on his face until you finally followed him into unconsciousness.

 “You must have a much better moral compass than me.”

 “I know for a fact that I do,” he teases.

 Frigid air flows through the gap between your bodies, raising goosebumps along your arms. “You don’t wanna get on this guy’s bad side,” you add, watching as he reaches behind him to turn off the lamp. "Right?"

 Right? you want to push, when he doesn't answer immediately. He would never be that stupid. You hope.

 “I know what I’m doing.” He settles, eyes closed and smile tight-lipped. “You worried about me?”

 If only the darkness could conceal the strain in your voice, like it does for the two tears spilling down your cheeks. “Always.”

 If I had the wings, I’d fly us somewhere that’s warmer than DC in fucking January.

 You inhale sharply when he clutches your waist, dragging you until your belly presses into his. His thick arm weighs you, helplessly, in the present.

 No more reminiscing about the past you lived together or agonizing about the future you’ll spend apart, just Sam, Sam, Sam.

 “S’freezing,” he mumbles. “This okay?”

 He knows the answer to that, the bastard.

 You rest a palm on his sternum and hook your leg over him, the curve of your Achilles tendon a familiarly perfect fit against his calf. “Sam—”

 “Go to sleep.”

 Maybe you can now, with him right there next to you.

 You close your eyes and bury your nose in his clean shirt, and it’s like you’re home. Teleported back to your bedroom.

 The soft whir of air conditioning, the sheets tangled between your legs. A calloused hand lazily sneaking around, a playful shush when you squeaked at your thigh getting pinched.

 The bustle of city traffic had been distant, the sound of Sam’s rhythmic breathing anything but.

 “Just friends, huh?” His chest rumbles with a laugh.

 You squeeze him, pretending to be too far gone to answer.

— — —

masterlist

[sammylibrary]

Rapture

Pairing: Sam Wilson x female reader (no other specifications)

Word Count: 1100 words

Outline: Date night with your boyfriend and his version of aftercare.

Warnings: Smut, not beta'ed. Soft!Dom!Sam, Daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m! receiving), mention of anal, fingering (f! receiving), edging, pet names.

Author’s Note: Day eighteen of the over 200 words daily drabbles for February. Today's prompt is 'swimming, bathing, or washing'. Combined with one of my wips and we are here!

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics​

🌟 Please, like or reblog and comment, all feedback is appreciated and warmly encouraged and allows me to know what people are interested in reading!🌟

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Sam Wilson Masterlist

NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

Saturday night is time for a relaxing date with your boyfriend, Captain America. He has invited you to his home and has instructed you to wear something simple and easy to take off. Extremely typical of him.

You arrive at his place and he opens the door for you holding a huge bouquet of roses, ever the gentleman invites you inside and offers you a drink. Of course, he has made chocolate martinis for the pair of you. Chocolate was your favorite dessert after all and Sam knew that, he simply knew everything about you.

Sweetened by the taste of the drink, and the incoming compliments of your man, you relax completely when his lips catch yours in a harsh kiss. Sam did love kissing you in the middle of a conversation.

"Just wanted to see if the martini still tastes good."

"You don't have to ask, baby, you know you can just take."

You bemuse winking at him while you're licking your lips together. Knowing exactly how to take his one movement one further step away.

Oh, he liked it when he had his way with you, you were so compliant and obedient under his touch. He always resembled you to his perfect fuck doll, there to be used and devoured in any way he liked. And Sam really liked ruining you. Wouldn't be long till you were on all fours, his cock thrusting in and out of your stretched hole.

Two hours later, well fucked, zero thoughts running through your mind anymore, you are in the bathtub trapped in his huge arms. A more tender picture than before. Sam is kissing your neck tenderly, leaving the softest little kisses while singing the melody of a song he liked. The tall man always liked taking care of you after a rough fuck.

He started by cleaning you up and then massaging your shoulders and your muscles until he took you to the bath and washed you like you were his precious little doll. He brushed your hair and put lotion on you, till your skin was smooth and shiny.

Relaxing to his touch you shut your eyes close and rest the back of your head on his broad chest. However, Sam is feeling naughty tonight and aftercare is not the only thing on his mind. Elegantly he is tracing his fingers down your arms till they sink under the water tracing them all the way to your core.

"Sam..."

You mewl, still very sore and sensitive from the previous activities.

"Shh, baby girl, daddy's just want another one. "

But Sam was smarter than that. He hadn't touched your pussy yet, he always liked focusing on one body part every time. He moves his big fingers over your pussy and traces them over your lips, instinctively you are parting your legs for him already feeling your insides burning again.

"Won't take me long, doll, just want to hear your sweet moan again. Feel like you were holding back from me."

"Sam you had your hand over my mouth!"

"Hm, could be that, but now I want to hear you sing, angel."

He pushes his thumb inside searching for your clit, moving it over the spongy sensitive area, while small moans escape your lips.

"Ah there she is, let it out all out, darling, I want to hear your voice."

Sam begins to rub your clit with his thumb moving the rest of his palm up and down your pussy lips slowly. His hand was big enough to cover all of it something that always made him chuckle. Fit like a pocket.

Well, he said that it wouldn't be long but now it had been thirty minutes, and every time he felt your breath shorten more, he stopped and kissed your head, making you gasp and beg. Your toes were curled, your hands gripping onto your breasts.

"You are really not playing fair, Sam, please let me cum."

"Not yet, doll. I want to hear more. Look at your poor pussy and how she is clenching begging for my fingers."

Sam wasn't wrong, you were desperate for more and you were determined to try and take more. When you try to close your thighs together and catch his fingers inside you he pushes your legs apart with his other hand.

"Don't. Don't disrespect Daddy."

His tone is serious albeit a little disappointed.

"Daddy is being mean!"

The low sound of his chuckle fills the room as you are now trying to grind your hips on his hand.

"I need you to let me cum, Daddy, please, oh please!"

"Take what Daddy gives you doll, Daddy knows best."

Nodding your head fast you squeeze your breasts and try to part your legs more to allow him more access while he is finally touching your clit again.

"Fuck, fuck, yes Daddy. Please let me cum, please."

Speeding up his movements, Sam rubs your clit with enough pressure and vigor till he feels your juices floating, a loud cry leaving your lips followed by a delirious chanting of his name.

"Yes, Daddy, thank you!"

He had taught you never to forget to thank him even in your more blissed out moments. He was a man with manners, evidently.

Spending the next few minutes panting heavily and smiling widely, you relax back into his lap. Feeling his cock hard and strong behind your back you wonder what he has in mind.

"Look what you did angel. Sang so beautiful for me and now Sammy Junior is rock hard and leaking."

"I'm sorry Sammy, I will take care of him, I will make you feel real good. I promise."

"Thank you, angel. That's what Daddy likes to hear. Little fuck dolls know their place and their use, don't they?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Happily, you rise up and turn around while he positions himself to sit on the edge of the tub. Licking your lips together when you are coming at such close contact with your Daddy's cock, you dutifully lean forward and dart out your tongue licking a stripe over his cock.

Simply wonderful what being a lady with manners leads you to.