sex with sammy is always so intimate, I stand by that! <3
MDNI 18+
Sammy’s got you laid on your back, his sweaty forehead pressed to yours, his lips still sweet from your arousal as they press against yours.
You can feel him drag his cock along your pussy, thick tip splitting the sticky folds. He’s letting out a shaky breath at the feeling, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. The only sounds you can hear in the dimly lit room is one another’s breathing and your wetness.
He moves one of his hands and fists his cock, tapping it against your clit a couple times before dropping it, thick forearms coming to rest beside your head again. “Y’ ready?” He whispers into your mouth, you nod hips bucking up a little.
He slides in you slowly, his head tipping back, mouth hanging open and giving you the perfect view of his cute teeth and freckled neck. Once he’s shoved all the way inside you, you whisper at him to give you a second to adjust and he does of course. His forehead dropping to yours again, a soft whimper leaving his pretty mouth.
“Okay” you breathe, wiping some curls off his sweaty face, “you can move” you nod. “Yeah?” He whispers, already starting to pull back before pushing deeply back inside of you. You can feel the hairy pudge above his base smushing into your clit and it makes you shiver and lean back against the pillows. He pulls back and lifts your legs, resting them on his shoulder and brining your knees together with one of his hands.
He starts to speed up and you can see your thighs flattening against his stomach with every thrust, he’s whimpering, praising you absentmindedly, “so good baby, fuck” you nod, pawing at his chest, wanting to feel him close again. He shrugs your legs off and moves between them, cock still buried deep inside you. When he goes to hover over you you can feel his tip nuzzled up against your cervix, making you gasp and grab his curls, pulling his face to yours again and kissing him sloppily.
You both are about to get in the shower, undressing and smiling at one another. You’ll both be standing there naked on your phones, him scrolling to find a shower playlist and you doing god knows what. But your eyes trail up to him in the mirror and he just looks sooo fucking good you want to always have a picture of him like this.
“C’mere Jackie” you say softly, turning your back to him. He walks behind you instantly because he’d follow you anywhere, and wraps his idle arm around your waist, pulling you back into his warm self. You giggle at the image in the mirror, him standing behind you, the soft curve of his belly fitting like a perfect puzzle piece to the arch of your back, his big fingers splayed across your side, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at something on his phone.
“Let’s take a picture” you whisper, and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes through the mirror. “What?” He chuckles, cheeks pinking a bit. “Just for us” you reply softly tapping open your camera app, him setting his bulky phone down on the counter.
Jack shakes his head and smiles, you can feel his breath on your neck as he moves you, his big hands wrapping around your front, sliding up your torso and landing at your breast, completely covering them due to the size of his hands. He rests his chin on your shoulder as you smile and hold the phone up, turning your head and connecting your lips with his sloppily, opening your mouth and letting him shove his tongue against your cheek as your phone shutters, taking the photo.
pope cody who can NAWTTT handle ear play…stay with me..
MDNI 18+
It’s you sitting on his lap on the couch, making out with him with your hands cupping his face. You move and kiss his cheek and neck, biting softly at his freckled skin. Popes just groaning, leaning his head back in submission to your mouth.
But when you get to his ear and run your tongue around it he gasps, fingers tightening around your hips, his own bucking up into yours. You smile against it and move to the other one with your mouth, fingers running softly over the ear you just left.
You give it a soft kiss before biting softly at the earlobe. Pope lets out a groan deep from his throat and freezes up, hands stilling at your waist. You pull back, “y’ ok?” You ask, kissing his cheek.
He grunts, his cheeks pinking, “gotta use the bathroom.” He says quickly, lifting you off his lap and setting you on the couch before getting up and stomping away.
𝑶𝑭𝑭 𝑳𝑰𝑴𝑰𝑻𝑺 Your dad’s best friend, Steve Rogers, has nowhere to sleep except your tiny single bed. One forced night pressed against the legendary super-soldier, and the line between “just friends” and “I shouldn’t want this” burns away fast.
dad’s bestfriend!steve rogers x fem!reader
word count : 9,2k
warnings 18+ : explicit sexual content, no use of y/n, age gap (steve is significantly older), forbidden/secret relationship, strong daddy kink, intense dirty talk, sexting, guilt and angst over betraying the reader’s dad, wet dream, rough sex, risk of getting caught, oral (f recieving), fingering, teasing, masturbation on video call, light possessiveness/jealousy
author’s note : first time writing dbf!steve and YUMMMMMMM 🤤🤤🤤 I genuinely cannot get enough of this man… hope you enjoyyy <33
You pulled your car into the familiar driveway of your childhood home, the late afternoon sun warming the hood as you cut the engine. The house looked exactly the same, white siding, the big oak tree in the front yard, your mom’s flower beds bursting with color. It had only been a few months since your last visit but something about coming home always made your chest feel a little tighter. Especially this weekend.
Because Steve Rogers was going to be here.
The thought alone sent a familiar flutter through your stomach. Steve, Captain America, your dad’s best friend, the man who had been a constant, steady presence in your life for years. You’d told yourself a thousand times that the crush was ridiculous. He was practically family. Older. A literal super-soldier. Off-limits in every possible way. And yet… every time he smiled at you, every time his blue eyes lingered just a second too long, your heart betrayed you.
You grabbed your duffel bag from the trunk and headed inside, the screen door banging behind you.
“Sweetheart! You’re here!” Your mom’s voice rang out from the kitchen, followed immediately by the sound of chaos. Your aunt and uncle had already arrived, their suitcases stacked in the hallway like they were moving in. Your cousin was arguing with your dad about the best way to grill steaks, and your mom was rushing around with a wooden spoon in one hand and a list in the other.
“Finally,” your dad grinned, pulling you into a big bear hug. “The birthday boy demands a full house this year. Steve’s coming too- staying the whole weekend. Gonna be like old times.”
Your heart skipped. “Steve’s staying here?”
“Yep. Guest room’s all his,” your dad said proudly.
Except it wasn’t.
Ten minutes later, the guest room situation became very clear. Your aunt and uncle had already claimed it, spreading their things across the bed and dresser like they owned the place. Your mom looked mortified. Your dad just laughed it off.
“We’ll figure something out,” he said with a shrug. “Plenty of couches.”
You nodded, trying to ignore the nervous anticipation building in your chest.
The sun was just beginning to dip when the familiar rumble of a motorcycle reached the house. You stepped outside onto the porch with your dad, heart hammering as Steve pulled up in the driveway. He swung one long leg off the bike, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulder, wearing a simple gray t-shirt that stretched across his chest and jeans that should be illegal.
“Old man!” Steve called with that easy, charming smile as he approached. He pulled your dad into one of those back-slapping hugs men his age seemed to perfect. The two of them laughed, exchanging jokes about gray hair and “back in my day.”
Then Steve’s eyes found yours.
For a moment, everything else faded. His gaze softened, that polite, respectful smile shifting into something warmer, almost private. “Hey, kid,” he said, voice low and gentle in a way that made your knees feel weak. “Been a while.”
You swallowed hard. “Hey, Steve. Good to see you.”
He stepped closer and wrapped you in a hug, brief, polite, one-armed like he was trying to be good. But you felt the solid wall of his chest, smelled the clean scent of him mixed with leather and summer air, and your mind immediately wandered to dangerous places.
When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on your face a second longer than necessary. A faint flush crept up your neck.
Your dad clapped Steve on the back again, completely oblivious. “Come on, let’s get you settled. Guest room’s all ready for you.”
You bit your lip and looked away, already knowing how that was going to go.
The weekend had officially begun.
Dinner was loud, chaotic and exactly what you expected from a family birthday celebration. The long dining table was packed with plates of barbecue, grilled vegetables, your mom’s famous potato salad and way too much beer. Laughter bounced off the walls as your dad held court at the head of the table, cheeks already flushed from the toasts.
Steve sat directly across from you.
He looked unfairly good under the warm dining room lights, sleeves rolled up, forearms corded with muscle, that little crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he laughed at one of your dad’s old stories. Every time your gazes met, your stomach flipped. You tried to focus on your plate but your mind kept drifting to the way his shirt stretched across his chest and how his voice sounded when he quietly said your name.
Your uncle raised his glass for the third time. “To the birthday boy! May you keep kicking ass and taking names for another fifty years!”
Everyone cheered. Steve lifted his glass with that charming, all-American smile and clinked it against your dad’s. “Happy birthday, old friend. Wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
Your heart ached a little at how genuinely fond they were of each other. It made the secret feelings you harbored feel even more dangerous.
As the plates were cleared and people started drifting toward the living room, your mom brought up the dreaded topic.
“So… sleeping arrangements,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “We’ve got a full house tonight.”
Your aunt chimed in immediately. “We already unpacked in the guest room, dear. Hope that’s alright.”
Your mom waved it off, but her eyes flicked to Steve. “Steve, honey, we can set you up on the couch. It’s a pull-out-”
“I’ll take the couch, no problem at all,” Steve said quickly, already standing like the perfect gentleman. “I’ve slept in worse places. Don’t worry about me.”
You felt the words leave your mouth before you could stop them.
“No,” you said firmly. Both Steve and your dad turned to look at you. “The couch is lumpy and way too short for you. You’ll be miserable.” You swallowed, heart racing. “You can stay in my room. I’ve got a bed.”
Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Your room?”
Your dad chuckled. “You sure about that, kiddo? That bed of yours is tiny.”
“It’s fine,” you insisted, cheeks burning. “It’s just one weekend. I’m not letting our guest sleep on that awful couch.”
Steve looked genuinely uncomfortable. “I really don’t mind the couch. Last thing I want is to put you out of your own bed.”
You met his eyes across the table, trying to sound casual even though your pulse was hammering. “It’s really not a big deal, Steve. The bed’s big enough… barely. We’re both adults. It’ll be fine.”
A heavy silence fell for half a second. Your mom shrugged with a tired smile. “If you’re both okay with it, that solves the problem.”
Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking torn. Those broad shoulders tensed under his shirt. “If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of cake, more stories and your family slowly heading off to bed. By the time you and Steve climbed the stairs together, the house had grown quiet except for the occasional creak of old floorboards. The walk up felt endless. Steve followed close behind you, his footsteps heavy but quiet. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of his soap and summer air clinging to him with every step.
When you finally pushed open the door to your childhood bedroom, the reality of the situation hit you full force.
The room was even smaller than you remembered.
Your single bed took up most of the space, pushed against the wall with just enough room for a narrow nightstand. The dresser was cluttered with old jewelry boxes and photos. Steve had to duck slightly under the doorframe, and once inside, he looked almost comically oversized, like a soldier stuffed into a dollhouse.
He set his duffel bag down in the corner and rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the bed.
“I’ll take the floor,” he said immediately, voice low and decisive. “Got a blanket in my bag. It’s no trouble.”
You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest. “Steve, no. The floor is hardwood and you’re… you. You’ll wake up sore as hell.”
“I’ve slept on worse. Battlefields. Snow. This is nothing.”
You shook your head, heart pounding. “It’s my room. You’re the guest. We’re both adults. The bed is small but it’s better than the floor.” You paused, swallowing hard. “We can share. There’s enough space if we… stay close.”
Steve’s jaw tightened. His eyes flicked to the bed again, then back to you. For a second you thought he might argue more, but something in your expression must have convinced him. He exhaled slowly.
“Only if you’re completely sure,” he said, voice rougher than usual.
“I’m sure.”
The air in the room grew thicker as you both prepared for bed. You turned toward your dresser, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement. Steve politely faced the wall while you quickly changed into your usual sleep clothes, a thin tank top and soft cotton shorts that suddenly felt way too revealing.
You caught a glimpse of him in the mirror as he pulled off his shirt. The sight of his bare back, broad, muscled, scarred in places, made your mouth go dry. He changed into a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, the fabric hanging low on his hips.
“Okay,” you whispered, turning off the main light. Only the small lamp on your nightstand remained on, casting a soft golden glow.
You both stood awkwardly beside the bed for a moment. Steve looked down at the narrow mattress like it was a tactical problem he needed to solve.
“You should take the wall side,” he suggested. “Easier for me to get up if needed.”
You slid in first, pressing your back against the cool wall. Steve lowered himself carefully onto the mattress. The bed dipped sharply under his weight, and you had no choice but to slide closer to him. Your shoulder brushed his arm. Your bare leg accidentally pressed against his.
“Sorry,” he muttered, trying to make himself smaller. It was impossible.
“It’s fine,” you breathed.
He reached over and turned off the lamp. Darkness swallowed the room.
For a long time, neither of you moved. The only sounds were the faint hum of the ceiling fan and your own racing heartbeat. Steve was so warm. His body radiated heat like a furnace, and every tiny shift of the mattress made you aware of how close he was, his broad chest inches from your back, his long legs taking up most of the bed.
You tried to stay still, but the heat made it difficult. Your skin felt too sensitive. When you shifted to get comfortable, the back of your hand brushed against his stomach. You felt his abs tense under your fingers.
“Comfortable?” he asked quietly, voice husky in the dark.
“Not really,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “You?”
Steve let out a low chuckle that you felt more than heard. “I’ve been in tighter spots. Just… not with you.”
The words hung between you. Accidental touches kept happening, his knee brushing the back of your thigh, your hair spilling across his shoulder, his fingers lightly grazing your arm when he adjusted the blanket.
Neither of you spoke again.
But neither of you slept.
You lay there in the stifling quiet, hyper-aware of every breath he took, every small movement of his powerful body next to yours. The tiny bed forced you into an intimacy you had only ever fantasized about. And with every passing minute, the space between you felt smaller… and much, much warmer.
Steve’s breathing never evened out either.
The clock on your nightstand glowed 1:47 am, but sleep still refused to come.
The heat in the room was almost unbearable. Even with the window cracked open, the summer night air hung thick and heavy. You were both lying on your sides facing each other in the narrow bed, barely a foot of space between your bodies. Steve’s face was inches from yours, illuminated faintly by moonlight filtering through the curtains.
“You still awake?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” you breathed. “Too hot. And… too aware.”
A soft, low chuckle rumbled from his chest. The sound vibrated through the mattress. “Same here.”
For a while, the only noise was the distant chirping of crickets outside. Then Steve shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours under the thin sheet. Neither of you pulled away this time.
“You know,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I still remember the first time your dad brought me here. You were… what, fourteen? Fifteen? You had that big science project on the kitchen table. Kept correcting me when I tried to help.”
You smiled in the dark, cheeks warming. “You were trying to tell me the Battle of Midway was in 1943. It was 1942.”
Steve let out a quiet laugh. “Smartass even back then.”
The conversation flowed easily after that, soft late-night whispers that felt safer in the darkness. He asked about your life in the city, your job, the friends you’d mentioned in passing over the years. You asked him about his latest missions (the ones he was allowed to talk about), how he was adjusting to the modern world, and what it felt like to still be fighting after all this time.
Eventually, the topic turned to your dad.
“He’s proud of you, you know,” Steve said quietly. “Talks about you all the time. Says you’re the best thing he ever did.”
Your throat tightened. “He’s the reason I push myself so hard. And you… you’ve always been part of that too. The way you and Dad talk about doing what’s right. It stuck with me.”
Steve was quiet for a long moment. You felt his fingers brush lightly against your wrist, almost accidentally. This time, he didn’t pull back. Instead, his hand slowly covered yours, warm and gentle.
“I’ve known your dad longer than you’ve been alive,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “He’s more than a friend. He’s family. The kind of man who pulled me out of my own head more times than I can count.”
You turned your hand over so your palms touched. The simple contact sent a spark up your arm. Steve’s thumb traced a slow, absentminded circle on the back of your hand.
“Being here with you like this…” He exhaled shakily. “It feels complicated.”
Your heart hammered. “Because of him?”
“Yeah.” His voice dropped even lower. “And because you’re not the little kid I remember anymore.”
The air between you thickened. Your legs had somehow become tangled under the sheet, his thick thigh pressed warmly against yours. You were close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, close enough to smell the faint scent of his skin.
You whispered, “Steve?”
“Hm?”
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
His fingers tightened around yours. For a heartbeat, you thought he might lean in. Instead, he lifted your joined hands and pressed a feather-light kiss to your knuckles, barely there but it made your entire body flush with heat.
“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured, even though neither of you moved away.
You stayed like that for the rest of the night, hands linked, legs tangled, bodies drawn together in the tiny bed like magnets. The emotional closeness felt even more dangerous than the physical one.
And as the sky outside slowly began to lighten, you realized something with startling clarity:
You were falling for Steve Rogers.
And he might just be falling too.
The next day dawned hot and bright, the heatwave already pressing down on the house like a heavy blanket by 9 am.
You barely slept. Every time you drifted off, you woke up tangled tighter with Steve, his arm draped over your waist, your leg thrown across his thigh, his breath warm against your neck. When you finally slipped out of bed, he was already awake, watching you with those intense blue eyes.
The day quickly turned into a whirlwind of family activity.
Your dad was in his element, manning the massive grill in the backyard while classic rock played from an old speaker. Aunts, uncles and cousins filled the yard with laughter and overlapping conversations. Steve, of course, was the perfect guest. He helped your dad flip burgers and steaks, carried heavy trays without breaking a sweat, and charmed every relative who wanted to talk to “the Captain.”
But you noticed the way his attention kept drifting back to you.
During the backyard cornhole tournament, when your cousin Mark started teasing you about your dating life, “Still single? Come on, we gotta find you a nice guy!” Steve appeared at your side almost instantly. His large hand settled lightly on your lower back as he handed you a fresh drink.
“She’s doing just fine,” Steve said, voice calm but with an edge underneath. His fingers lingered against the thin fabric of your sundress.
The protective touch sent a shiver down your spine despite the scorching heat.
As the afternoon wore on, the heatwave grew worse. The air shimmered above the grass, and everyone was glistening with sweat. You changed into a light sundress that clung to your skin. Steve’s eyes tracked you whenever you moved, watching you laugh with your mom, bend over to pick up a dropped plate or wipe sweat from your neck.
At one point, while you were reaching for a bowl on a high shelf in the kitchen, Steve stepped in behind you. His chest brushed your back as he easily grabbed it for you. For a moment, you were trapped between his body and the counter.
“Here,” he murmured, voice low near your ear. His hand grazed your hip as he passed you the bowl. Neither of you moved for a second longer than necessary.
“Thanks,” you whispered, cheeks burning hotter than the weather.
The tension only built from there.
During the birthday cake moment, Steve stood right beside you as everyone sang. His arm brushed yours. When your dad blew out the candles, Steve’s fingers lightly traced down your bare arm, pretending to swat away a bug that wasn’t there. The casual touch left goosebumps in its wake.
Later, while playing lawn games, he grew noticeably tenser whenever your male cousins got too playful, especially when Mark tried to pick you up in a mock wrestling move. Steve was there in an instant, gently but firmly pulling you back against his chest.
“Easy,” he said with a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “She’s not a football.”
You caught the flash of something possessive in his gaze when you looked up at him. It made your stomach flutter.
As the sun began to set and the heat refused to break, the family moved inside for drinks and dessert. Steve stayed close. During a group photo, his hand rested on your waist. When you sat on the couch, your thighs pressed together in the crowded room. Every glance between you felt heavier than the last, heated, lingering, full of everything you couldn’t say out loud.
By the time the evening wound down and people started heading to bed, the air between you and Steve crackled with unspoken desire. The heatwave had turned the house into an oven, but the real temperature was rising somewhere much more dangerous.
As you both climbed the stairs toward your tiny bedroom again, Steve’s hand brushed the small of your back.
“Long day,” he said softly.
“Yeah,” you replied, heart racing. “And it’s only getting hotter.”
He didn’t disagree.
The heatwave had turned your tiny childhood bedroom into a goddamn furnace.
It was well past 2 am, and the air was thick, humid, and almost unbearable. Even the ceiling fan spinning lazily above you did nothing but push the hot air around. Sweat slicked every inch of your skin. You’d kicked the thin sheet off long ago, but it didn’t help. You were lying in nothing but a tiny white tank top and pale pink panties that were already sticking to you uncomfortably.
Steve wasn’t faring any better.
He lay on his back beside you, one muscular arm thrown above his head, wearing only a pair of dark gray sweatpants that sat dangerously low on his hips. His broad, bare chest glistened with a light sheen of sweat. Every slow, deep breath he took made his muscles flex. The tiny bed forced your bodies close together, your thigh pressed against his, your arm occasionally brushing his side. The proximity was torture.
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he’d looked at you all day. The lingering touches. The guilt and hunger in his eyes.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled you under.
In the dream, Steve had you pinned beneath him on this very bed.
He was fucking you hard, deep punishing thrusts that made the headboard slam against the wall. His massive body covered yours completely, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest as he drove into you again and again.
“Fuck, baby,” Steve growled, voice dark and filthy. “This tight little pussy is sucking me in so good. You’ve been teasing me all weekend, haven’t you?”
You moaned loudly, legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you. “Steve- please-”
He leaned down, biting your neck. “That’s not what you called me earlier. Say it properly, sweetheart.”
“Daddy,” you whimpered.
His hips snapped forward even harder. “Good girl.”
You woke up with a sharp, broken gasp.
Your heart was racing. Your skin was on fire. Between your thighs, you were absolutely soaked, your panties drenched, slick arousal coating your inner thighs and dripping down onto the sheets. Your nipples were hard against the thin tank top, and a needy little whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it.
“Steve…”
Steve jolted awake instantly, his super-soldier reflexes kicking in. In a single smooth motion, he rolled toward you and pulled your overheated, trembling body flush against his chest. One strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as his other hand cupped the back of your head.
“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough and worried. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Bad dream?”
You were still panting, thighs pressed together, trying to hide how desperately aroused you were. Steve’s bare chest felt like heaven against your flushed skin, but it only made the ache worse.
He stroked your damp hair, concern etched on his face. “You’re burning up. Jesus… I can step out for a few minutes so you can strip down and cool off. Get comfortable. I don’t mind-”
“No,” you whispered desperately, clinging to his broad shoulders. Your fingers dug into his sweat-slicked skin. “Please don’t leave. Stay. I need you to stay with me.”
Steve exhaled shakily. You could feel the internal war raging inside him.
You didn’t wait for permission. Sitting up slightly, you peeled your soaked tank top off, letting your breasts spill free into the humid air. Steve’s eyes widened, and he quickly tried to look away, guilt flashing across his handsome face.
“Fuck… we can’t-”
“Please don’t look away,” you begged, voice trembling with need. You hooked your thumbs into your drenched panties and slowly slid them down your legs, kicking them off the bed. You were completely naked now, glistening with sweat and arousal.
Steve’s breathing grew ragged. His cock was rock-hard and straining against his sweatpants. The guilt in his eyes was unmistakable, but so was the raw hunger.
You reached for him, pressing your naked body against his. “It wasn’t a nightmare, Steve,” you confessed breathlessly, lips brushing his jaw. “I was dreaming about you. About you fucking me. So hard. I woke up… soaked.”
The confession shattered what little control he had left.
Steve flipped you onto your back with ease, his massive body pinning you down on the tiny mattress. His mouth crashed into yours in a hungry desperate kiss, tongue sliding against yours as years of buried tension exploded between you.
“God forgive me,” he growled against your lips, voice thick with guilt and lust. He shoved his sweatpants down just enough to free his thick, heavy cock. It slapped against your stomach, hot and leaking.
He gripped your thighs, spreading them wide, and pushed inside you in one long, slow, stretching thrust.
You moaned loudly as he filled you, your walls fluttering around his thick cock. Steve groaned deep in his chest, eyes falling shut for a second as he bottomed out completely.
“Fuck… so tight,” he breathed. He stayed still for a moment, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust. Then his eyes opened, dark and hungry. “Tell me something, sweetheart.”
You looked up at him, breathing shakily.
His voice dropped even lower, rough with lust and a hint of dark curiosity. “Did you ever let any boys fuck this pussy before me?”
Your face burned with embarrassment. You bit your lip, feeling shy under his intense stare, and gave a small, hesitant nod.
Steve let out a low, disapproving tsk, his hips rolling forward once, pushing even deeper.
“Dirty girl,” he murmured, a filthy smirk tugging at his lips. “Letting other boys stretch this tight little cunt while you were thinking about me?”
“I- I didn’t-” you stammered, voice breaking into a whimper as he gave another slow, deep thrust.
“Didn’t what?” he pressed, starting to move in long, dragging strokes. “Didn’t spread your legs for them? Didn’t let them fuck you?” He leaned down closer, lips brushing your ear. “Be honest, baby. How many boys have been in this pussy?”
You moaned helplessly, cheeks flaming hotter. “A… a few…” you gasped, nails digging into his back.
“A few?” Steve tsked again, fucking you with deep, punishing thrusts that made the bed creak. “And did your dad know about it? Does he know his sweet little girl was letting boys use her like a slut?”
You shook your head frantically, overwhelmed, but he just laughed low and dark, hips snapping harder.
“No? Keeping secrets from Daddy, huh?” His grip on your thighs tightened almost bruisingly. “Bet he’d lose his fucking mind if he found out. His best friend balls-deep in his daughter’s soaked cunt, while she’s whimpering about how the other boys couldn’t fill her right.”
He slammed into you with a filthy wet smack, grinding deep. “Maybe I should tell him. Show him exactly what a dirty girl you’ve been. Let him hear how wet you get for me.”
You whimpered loudly, body clenching around him at his taunting words, legs shaking around his waist as he railed you harder, eyes blazing with possessive lust.
“None of them could fuck you like this, could they?” he growled, voice thick. “None of them made this little pussy drip all over their cock. Say it.”
“N-no… none of them…” you managed, legs shaking around his waist.
“That’s right. This pussy belongs to me now.”
The word slipped out on a broken whimper: “Daddy-”
Steve froze, buried to the hilt, breathing hard. Something dark and filthy flickered in his eyes.
“Yeah?” His voice dropped into a dangerous, gravelly growl. He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in hard, making the bed creak violently. “You just called me Daddy, sweetheart? You want your dad’s best friend to be your fucking Daddy?”
“Oh my god-” you gasped, shocked and impossibly turned on.
Steve’s hips started moving, deep, relentless thrusts that made your breasts bounce with every stroke. The tiny bed slammed against the wall as he fucked you.
“Fuck… I shouldn’t be doing this,” he groaned, guilt lacing every word even as he pounded into you harder. “Shouldn’t be balls-deep in my best friend’s little girl… but your pussy is so fucking wet for me. Gripping me so tight.”
He leaned down, sucking a mark onto your neck as he railed you. “Say it again. Call me Daddy while I ruin this tight little cunt.”
“Daddy,” you moaned obediently, nails raking down his back.
“That’s my good girl,” he growled, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you. Sweat dripped from his body onto yours. “Been thinking about this for so long. Thinking about bending you over and fucking you while your dad’s downstairs. Such a dirty little secret.”
He flipped you onto your stomach, pressing your cheek into the pillow as he mounted you from behind. The new angle let him go even deeper. His hips slapped against your ass with every brutal thrust.
“Tell Daddy how bad you need it,” he demanded, voice rough.
“I need it so bad, Daddy- please don’t stop,” you cried out, pushing back against him.
Steve lost it completely. One hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip as he fucked you senseless, hard, fast, filthy strokes that had you seeing stars.
“You’re gonna make me come inside you, baby,” he panted, guilt and pleasure mixing in his voice. His thrusts grew erratic and desperate. “Gonna fill up my best friend’s daughter like she deserves.”
He leaned down, biting your shoulder as he drove deeper.
“Are you on birth control?” he growled, voice rough. When you hesitated, he slammed into you harder. “Answer me, sweetheart. Are you on the pill?”
You shook your head, barely able to form words. “N-no…”
Steve groaned loudly, a dark, possessive sound rumbling in his chest.
“Fuck… that’s so dangerous,” he taunted, still pounding into you relentlessly. “Letting your dad’s best friend fuck you raw… and you’re not even protected?”
His pace became punishing, the tiny bed slamming against the wall with every thrust.
“I should pull out,” he rasped, even as he fucked you harder. “I know I should pull out… but I’m not gonna. I’m gonna fill this pussy up.”
He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes wild with lust and guilt.
“Gonna make you a mama,” he growled, voice thick. “Gonna pump my cum so deep inside you, get my best friend’s little girl pregnant. You want that, don’t you? Want Daddy to breed you?”
The filthy words sent you over the edge.
You came first with a loud, shaking cry, clenching hard around his cock. Steve followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning your name as he spilled inside you, hips stuttering with the force of his orgasm.
The room was silent except for your heavy breathing and the distant hum of the fan.
Steve collapsed beside you, pulling your spent body against his chest. Guilt was already creeping back into his eyes… but his arms held you like he never wanted to let go.
Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting a soft golden glow over your tiny bedroom.
You woke up tangled with Steve Rogers.
Your back was pressed against his chest, one of his thick arms wrapped possessively around your waist, holding you close. Your legs were intertwined, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing against your neck. The room still smelled like sweat, sex, and summer heat. A pleasant ache throbbed between your thighs, reminding you of everything that had happened last night.
For a moment, it felt perfect.
Then reality crept in.
Steve stirred behind you. His arm tightened briefly before he seemed to remember where he was. You felt him tense, his muscles going rigid against your back.
“Morning,” you whispered softly.
He exhaled slowly, pressing a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. “Morning, sweetheart.”
There was affection in his voice… but also heavy guilt.
You turned in his arms to face him. Steve’s blue eyes were stormy, filled with a mix of lingering desire and deep regret. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your swollen lips.
“What we did last night…” He swallowed hard, voice thick with regret. “I crossed a line I swore I’d never cross. Your dad is like a brother to me. I’ve known you since you were a kid, for fuck’s sake.”
Steve closed his eyes, jaw clenched tight. The guilt was written all over his face.
“And I still…” His voice dropped, rough and pained. “I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted you too damn much. I still want you.”
He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against yours.
“I should regret it. I do regret it… at least part of me does. But the other part?” He opened his eyes, staring at you with raw intensity. “The other part doesn’t regret a single second. And that’s what scares me the most.”
You placed your hand over his. “Steve, I wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for years.”
He closed his eyes, forehead resting against yours. “That doesn’t make it right. If he ever found out I fucked his daughter in her childhood bed…” He let out a shaky breath. “I’d lose him. And I don’t know if I could live with that.”
Despite the guilt, his body betrayed him. His hand slid down your side, tracing the curve of your hip, pulling you closer. You could feel him getting hard again against your thigh.
The two of you stayed like that for a while, tangled, touching, stealing soft kisses filled with both tenderness and shame. Steve whispered apologies between kisses, even as his fingers gently explored the marks he’d left on your neck and hips.
“We should get up,” he finally murmured, voice reluctant. “Brunch starts soon.”
Downstairs, the family was already gathered around the big dining table for a big birthday brunch. Plates of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fresh fruit covered every surface. Your dad was in a great mood, laughing loudly with your uncle.
You and Steve arrived a few minutes apart, trying to look casual. But the second you sat down next to each other, the tension returned.
Under the table, Steve’s hand found your thigh almost immediately. His fingers traced slow circles on your skin, hidden by the long tablecloth. You nearly dropped your fork.
Across the table, your aunt smiled at you. “You two look tired. Did you not sleep well in that tiny bed?”
Steve’s hand squeezed your thigh warningly. “It was… cozy,” he replied smoothly, voice perfectly polite.
You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling.
Throughout the meal, the stolen touches grew bolder. Steve’s fingers slipped higher up your thigh, brushing dangerously close to where you were still sore and sensitive from last night. You returned the favor, letting your hand rest on his leg, feeling the hard muscle tense under your touch.
At one point, his hand slid fully between your thighs. Two thick fingers pushed your panties aside and slipped inside you without warning. You had to bite down hard on your lip to stop a moan from escaping. Steve kept a perfectly straight face, chatting casually with your family, but the shit-eating grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth told you he knew exactly what he was doing.
He slowly pumped his fingers in and out of your soaked pussy, curling them just right while his thumb brushed teasingly over your clit. You had to cover it with a sudden cough as heat flooded your face.
Your dad, completely oblivious, raised his coffee mug. “I’m really glad you could make it, Steve. Means a lot having you here.”
Steve’s hand froze for half a second, two fingers still buried deep inside you. Guilt flashed across his face, but he quickly recovered and smiled warmly at your dad.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied smoothly, voice perfectly calm.
The moment your dad looked away, Steve started moving his fingers again, slow and filthy. His grin grew a little darker as he felt how wet you were.
When your aunt asked him a question about the mission he’d just returned from, Steve casually pulled his glistening fingers out of you. He reached for a slice of toast, spreading jam on it. Some of the sticky jam slipped onto his fingers, mixing with your slick.
Without hesitation, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, slow strokes of his tongue, savoring the sweet jam along with the taste of you. His eyes locked onto yours the entire time, dark and teasing.
You nearly choked on your orange juice.
The almost-disaster came toward the end of brunch.
Your uncle stood up suddenly, reaching across the table for the syrup. As he did, he bumped the tablecloth, causing it to shift. For one terrifying second, the fabric lifted just enough that your aunt, sitting across from you, might have seen Steve’s hand disappearing between your legs.
Steve reacted instantly, pulling his hand back smoothly and reaching for his orange juice like nothing happened. Your heart pounded wildly.
Your aunt frowned slightly. “Everything okay over there?”
“Yeah,” you said quickly, voice a little too high. “Just… hot in here this morning.”
Steve’s knee pressed against yours under the table, a silent apology and promise all at once.
The rest of brunch passed in a haze of stolen glances and barely-contained tension. Every look Steve gave you was loaded: guilt, longing, and a hunger that said last night was only the beginning.
As people started clearing plates, Steve leaned over and whispered in your ear, voice low enough for only you to hear:
“We’re not done talking about this. Or doing this.”
Your pulse raced.
The weekend wasn’t over yet.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of heightened awareness.
Every glance, every accidental brush of skin felt electric. During the afternoon family games in the backyard, Steve stayed close, too close. When you bent over to pick up a dropped frisbee, his hand ghosted across your lower back. When your cousin challenged him to a push-up contest, Steve’s eyes kept flicking to you, sweat glistening on his skin as he dominated the game without even trying.
Your dad noticed nothing. But you caught your aunt giving you a curious look once or twice.
By evening, the tension was unbearable.
After dinner and another round of birthday stories, the family slowly retreated to their rooms. You and Steve climbed the stairs in heavy silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you.
The moment your bedroom door clicked shut, Steve turned to you.
“We need to talk,” he said quietly, tension thick in his voice.
You sat on the edge of your tiny bed, pulse racing with excitement. Steve paced briefly, then sat beside you, his large frame making the mattress dip heavily. He took your hand, thumb stroking your knuckles as if trying to steady himself.
“I meant what I said this morning,” he began, low and serious. “What we did last night… it was wrong. Your dad trusts me. I’ve known you since you were a teenager. I should be protecting you, not-”
As he spoke, you leaned back on your elbows, eyes locked on his. One hand slowly slid up to cup your breast through your thin tank top, squeezing and kneading it, pinching your nipple until it stood out hard against the fabric. Steve’s gaze flicked down immediately.
“-not fucking you in your childhood bed like some selfish bastard,” he finished, swallowing hard.
You didn’t stop. Your other hand drifted between your thighs, rubbing slow, firm circles over your pussy through your shorts. The fabric was already getting damp as you pressed two fingers against your clit, teasing yourself openly while he tried to talk.
“Sweetheart, listen,” Steve said, his voice growing rough as he watched your hands. “This is serious. I’m trying to do the right thing. Last night was a mistake. I crossed every line-”
“I am listening,” you murmured sweetly, breath hitching as you rubbed yourself faster. You slipped your hand under the waistband of your shorts, fingers gliding through your slick, bare folds. Pulling them back out glistening with your arousal, you brought them to your lips, licked them clean with long, deliberate strokes of your tongue, and let out a soft, needy moan. “I’m listening to every word, Steve…”
His cock strained visibly against his pants, jaw tight.
Without breaking eye contact, you hooked your thumbs into your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs and kicking them away. You spread your thighs wide on the bed, completely naked from the waist down, and used your fingers to part your slick pussy lips, showing him how wet and ready you were.
“Keep talking,” you whispered, voice dripping with lust. One hand played with your tits, tugging and rolling your nipples, while the other slowly circled your swollen clit right in front of him. “Tell me how guilty you feel… how wrong it is that you fucked me last night. How you shouldn’t be here wanting your best friend’s daughter again.”
“Fuck, look at you,” Steve groaned, eyes dark and fixed on your spread pussy. His hand landed on your inner thigh, gripping it firmly, but he didn’t move closer yet. “Sitting on your little bed, spreading that pretty cunt for me while I’m trying to be a decent man. Your dad would destroy me if he knew I was in here again. That I had my cock buried inside you just last night. That I can’t stop thinking about how tight and wet you felt coming around me.”
You moaned louder, slipping two fingers inside yourself and slowly pumping them, the obscene wet sounds filling the room. “Mmm… I’m still listening. Tell me more. Does it make you feel bad knowing how much I loved it? How I’ve wanted you to fuck me for years?”
Steve’s breathing was ragged now. He leaned in closer, one big hand replacing yours on your breast, squeezing it roughly as he watched you finger yourself. “It makes me feel like shit. You’re too young for this… too good for me. But look at this greedy little pussy- already dripping all over your fingers just because I’m sitting here.”
You pulled your fingers out and offered them to him. When he sucked them into his mouth with a low growl, tasting you, you whimpered and spread your legs even wider, hips rolling shamelessly.
“Please, Steve,” you breathed, voice trembling with need. “I know it’s wrong. I know it’s the second time… but I need you so badly. Touch me more. Taste me. Do whatever you want to me before you fuck me again.”
He cursed under his breath, the guilt and raw hunger clear on his face as he pushed you back further on the bed. His mouth crashed down on yours in a deep, desperate kiss while his hand slid down to replace yours between your thighs. Thick fingers stroked through your soaked folds, circling your clit and teasing your entrance, but he still held back from sliding them inside or giving you his cock.
“I still feel guilty,” he admitted as he settled between your thighs, his cock hard and pressing against you. “But I can’t stay away from you.”
“Then don’t,” you breathed.
You moaned and spread your thighs even wider, fingers still holding your pussy open for him. Steve finally broke with a low, tortured groan. He dropped to his knees right in front of the bed, his big hands grabbing your thighs and yanking you roughly to the very edge so your ass was barely on the mattress. Without another word, he buried his face between your legs like he’d been dying to do it.
His tongue dragged slowly, heavily through your soaked folds, groaning deeply at your taste. He licked broad, hungry strokes from your dripping entrance all the way up to your swollen clit, then sucked the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, flicking it relentlessly with the tip of his tongue. You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as your fingers tangled tight in his hair, holding him against you.
“Steve- oh god, yes,” you whimpered, hips grinding shamelessly against his face. He ate you out like a starving man, messy, filthy and completely devoted. His stubble scraped deliciously against your inner thighs while his tongue worked you with long, lewd strokes, lapping up every drop of your arousal. Two thick fingers pushed inside your tight heat, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while his mouth focused on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of him sucking, licking, and fingering you filled the tiny bedroom.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growled against your pussy, the vibrations sending sparks through you. He added a third finger, stretching you open as he pumped them faster, deeper, making wet squelching noises with every thrust. “So wet for me already… even though we both know we shouldn’t be doing this again. I fucked you last night and here I am, on my knees for this sweet little cunt like I can’t get enough.”
You were shaking, moans growing louder and more desperate as the pleasure built rapidly. Steve didn’t let up, he sucked harder on your clit, scissoring his fingers inside you, curling them just right until your thighs started trembling around his head.
“Fuck, Steve, I’m- I’m gonna-”
You came hard on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head as intense waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers, flooding his mouth with your release. Steve didn’t stop. He kept licking you through every shudder and aftershock, gentling his tongue but still devouring you until you were trembling, oversensitive, and whimpering his name like a prayer.
Only when you were a gasping, boneless mess did he finally pull back, lips and chin shiny with your juices. He rose to his feet, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes, revealing his massive, throbbing cock. He climbed onto the small bed, covering your body with his much larger frame, and entered you slowly this time, inch by thick inch, savoring the way you gasped and clutched desperately at his shoulders.
Once he was fully seated, buried to the hilt inside your still-spasming pussy, he stayed there, forehead pressed to yours, just breathing with you in the quiet intimacy.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion. “So fucking perfect. So tight around me even after last night.”
Steve made love to you with deep, rolling thrusts. The tiny bed creaked softly beneath you with every slow push of his hips. His mouth never left your skin, kissing your lips, your neck, your breasts, sucking gently on your nipples as he moved. Every stroke was deliberate and full of feeling, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him.
“I shouldn’t want this,” he groaned, voice strained with both pleasure and that lingering guilt. “Shouldn’t be inside you right now, fucking you again in your childhood bed… but I do. I want you so much it hurts.”
You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him even deeper. “I’m yours, Steve. I’ve always been yours. Don’t stop.”
His pace gradually increased, but it stayed tender and intimate. He held your gaze the entire time, those blue eyes dark with lust and something deeper. One of his large hands laced with yours, pinning it above your head as he drove into you with long, powerful strokes, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every thrust.
When you came the second time, it was with his name on your lips, soft, breathless, and full of feeling, your walls pulsing and milking his thick cock. Steve followed moments later, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spilled deep inside you with a deep, shaky groan, hips jerking as he filled you completely.
Afterward, he didn’t pull out right away. He stayed buried inside you, holding you close in his strong arms as you both caught your breath, hearts pounding against each other.
“I don’t know what happens after this weekend,” he whispered into your hair, voice hoarse. “But I don’t want this to end. I don’t want us to end.”
You pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his chest, right over his heart.
“Neither do I.”
The two of you fell asleep like that, tangled together, bodies still joined, hearts even more entangled. The guilt was still there, heavy in the quiet, but so was something deeper. Something worth fighting for.
Sunday afternoon came too quickly.
The house was quieter now. Most of the family had already left and the backyard was cleaned up from the weekend’s chaos. Steve’s motorcycle sat in the driveway, his duffel bag already strapped to the back.
You stood in the hallway, watching him say his goodbyes to your parents. He hugged your mom tightly, thanking her for the weekend. Then he turned to your dad.
The two men embraced in that familiar, back-slapping way. Your dad clapped Steve on the shoulder with a big grin.
“Glad you could make it, pal. Means everything having you here for the big day.”
Steve’s smile was warm, but you could see the guilt flicker behind his eyes. “Wouldn’t have missed it. You’re family.”
Your dad nodded, completely unaware. “Drive safe. And come back soon. Door’s always open.”
Steve’s gaze flicked to you for a brief second. “Yeah… I will.”
You waited until your parents went back inside before slipping out to the driveway with him.
The moment you were alone, Steve pulled you behind the garage, out of sight from the house windows. He backed you gently against the wall and kissed you like it might be the last time, deep, slow, and full of everything he couldn’t say in front of your family.
His hands cupped your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered, voice rough. “Not after this weekend. Not after everything.”
“Then don’t,” you breathed, fingers gripping his shirt. “Or at least… don’t stay away long.”
Steve kissed you again, softer this time. “This is dangerous. What we’re doing. If your dad ever finds out I touched you… that I was inside you in your own bed…” He swallowed hard. “But I can’t pretend I don’t want this. I can’t pretend I don’t want you.”
You rose up on your toes and kissed him fiercely. “We’ll be careful. I’m not ready to give this up either.”
He held you close for a long moment, arms wrapped tightly around you, breathing you in. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were intense.
“I’ll text you when I get back to the city. We’ll figure this out. Secretly. Slowly. But I promise… this isn’t the end.”
One last kiss, lingering, heated and full of promise and then he had to go.
You watched him swing his leg over the motorcycle. He looked back at you one final time, that small, private smile reserved only for you on his lips. Then he revved the engine and rode off down the street.
Later that evening, after your parents had gone to bed, you lay in your tiny bed alone. The sheets still smelled like him.
Your phone buzzed.
Steve 7:38pm
Made it back safely. Already miss you in that tiny bed.
You smiled, heart fluttering.
You 7:38pm
Miss you too. The bed feels way too big now.
Steve 7:39pm
Next time we’re in the same city, I’m taking you on a proper date. No hiding. Just us.
You 7:39pm
I’d like that. A lot.
Steve 7:39pm
Good. Because I’m not letting you go. Sleep well, sweetheart. Dream of me.
You clutched the phone to your chest, a secret smile on your face as you drifted off.
The weekend was over.
But this, whatever it was between you and Steve, was only just beginning.
It had been three long, torturous weeks since that filthy, unforgettable weekend at your parents’ house. Three weeks of stolen texts that grew bolder by the day, late-night phone calls where Steve’s deep voice would hesitantly confess how much he missed you, only for you to push him into telling you exactly what he wanted to do to you. He’d been on a mission for most of that time, but even from halfway across the world, his messages left you aching.
Tonight, the need was unbearable.
Your dad was staying over, sleeping on the couch in the living room. He had back-to-back meetings in the city and insisted your apartment was far more convenient than driving back and forth. “Couch is perfectly fine, kiddo.” he’d said with a grin. The TV was still murmuring softly out there with one of his old war documentaries.
You were in your bedroom, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely covered your ass. No panties. Your body was already buzzing with heat as you texted him.
You 10:15pm
I miss you… and I’m so wet thinking about you. Video chat? I want you to watch me.
Steve 10:15pm
Phone call?
You 10:15pm
On the computer. Video. I need you to see what you do to me.
Steve 10:16pm
On a computer? …Alright. I’m still not great with this stuff. Give me a second.
You propped your laptop on the bed and started the call, already feeling wet. Steve’s camera was off at first. His voice came through, low and slightly shy.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Camera’s off, Captain,” you purred, already sliding your hand up your thigh. “I want to see that big, strong body while I play with myself for you.”
You heard him fumbling. “I’m trying- there we go.”
While he struggled, you slowly dragged your t-shirt up, exposing your bare pussy. You spread your legs wide and started teasing your clit in slow circles. “Mmm… I’m already soaked, Steve. Been thinking about your thick cock all day.”
Steve’s breathing hitched the moment his camera turned on. He was shirtless, fresh from a shower, water still glistening on his sculpted chest and abs. His blue eyes widened, a flush creeping up his neck as he took in the sight of you, legs spread, fingers glistening.
“Sweetheart…” he said, voice rough but hesitant, “you sure we should be doing this right now? Your dad’s right out there-”
“I know,” you moaned softly, pinching your nipple with one hand while rubbing your pussy with the other. “That just makes it hotter. Keep talking. Tell me what you want to do to me.”
Steve swallowed hard, clearly fighting his gentlemanly instincts even as his hand moved to palm the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants. “God… you’re so beautiful like this. I shouldn’t be looking at you this way, but I can’t stop thinking about how tight you felt around me. How pretty you sounded when you called me-”
You cut him off by pushing two fingers inside yourself with a wet sound. “Say it, Steve. Call yourself Daddy while I fuck myself for you.”
His jaw clenched, guilt and lust warring on his face. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, finally stroking himself slowly. “That’s my good girl… spreading that pretty pussy for Daddy.”
You whimpered, fucking yourself harder, tits bouncing as you arched your back for him. Steve’s eyes were glued to the screen, his usual Captain America composure cracking as he watched you.
You were right on the edge, moaning his name, when you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Steve!” you hissed in panic. “It’s my dad!”
“Shit- cover up, baby!” he whispered urgently, quickly adjusting himself.
You yanked your shirt down in record time, grabbed a hoodie, and zipped it up just as the door opened.
Your dad poked his head in with a gentle smile. “Hey kiddo. Just checking on you before I turn in on the couch. You need anything? Water? Extra pillow?”
You tried to catch your breath. “Dad, you’re the guest here. I’m supposed to be taking care of you. Go rest.”
He chuckled. “I know, I know. Old habits.” His eyes landed on your laptop. “Oh- I’m not interrupting a call, am I?”
You swallowed. “Just video chatting with Steve.”
Your dad’s eyebrows rose. “Steve? Rogers?”
On the screen, Steve had composed himself, though his cheeks were still faintly flushed. He gave a polite, all-American smile. “Hey, man. Yeah, it’s me.”
“Well hey, buddy!” your dad said warmly. “What are you two up to so late?”
Steve rubbed the back of his neck, the picture of respectful concern. “Helping her install a new shelf in the living room. Giving her some step-by-step instructions. These modern kits can be tricky.”
Your dad nodded approvingly. “That’s real good of you, Steve. Thanks for looking out for her!”
“Happy to help,” Steve replied, voice steady despite everything.
Your dad smiled. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t stay up too late, kiddo.”
The second the door closed, you collapsed onto the bed, face burning.
Steve let out a long breath, then chuckled softly, still looking a little shy. “That was entirely too close.”
You grinned, already pulling your clothes back off. “Worth it. You should’ve seen how hard you were while trying to sound so polite.”
Steve shook his head, a small, fond smile on his lips. “You’re a dangerous little minx, you know that?” His voice dropped, low and rough. “Fuck… I can’t wait to bend you over the next time I get my hands on you.”
Your first night staying at the Cody residence you were a little intimidated by the one they call 'Pope'. He's always brooding, glaring or wandering around the house at odd times. Although, as days pass you start to realize how sexy Pope is. His broad shoulders, big biceps, his pretty curls and tight collared shirts. His voice is gravely and always has a tone of meloncholy to it.
Pope knew he was going to struggle with you staying in the house. You spent too much time by the pool and too small bikinis. He finds himself watching you closely as you lounge by the pool to tan and when you hop in to paddle laps. Things progress quickly for Pope, the sight of you wandering around the house too tempting for him to handle.
One afternoon while you're smoking poolside with Daren and J, Pope slinks into the room you've overtaken. He scans the space until he finds what he wants. Spotting a pair of lacey pink panties laying discarded near your bed, Pope snatches them and leans against your matress. He shuffles his jeans down around his hips, just enough to release his stiff cock, stroking himself slowly as he brings your dirty panties to his nose. Your scent drives him crazy, his hips bucking up to chase the warm cunt it comes from. Sadly, his fist will have to satisfy him, he fucks it fast and hard, picturing your sweet slickness covering his cock and abdomen. He comes to the smell of your panties the the thought of you split open on his fat cock. He snatches tissues from your bedside table to clean himself up, tucking your panties in his back pocket for later.
This becomes a regular thing for Pope, once a week or so he sneaks into your room and tangles his cock in the fabric of your used panties. He hopes you won't notice the pairs gone missing because he's starting to enjoy his little collection.
Overtime he starts to feel a little guilty, having normal, curt conversations with you on a daily basis while vandalizing your under garments. You're so bubbly and kind to everyone, including Pope, oblivious to the nasty things he fantasizes about you. Despite the guilt he can't stop, he doesn't think he'll be able to until you're moved out, no longer around to tempt him.
Although the guilt lessens a little the first time he catches you in his bed. You had thought you were the only one home. Everyone else was at their place or out, so you made yourself comfortable in his bed like you do occasionally.
When no one is at the Cody house but you, which happens every so often, you like to curl up in Pope's bed. Over the last few weeks living here you've developed an unhealthy attachment to him. He's intriguing to you but it's become more intense over time. You enjoy your morning chats over coffee, the times when he joins you in the pool or helps you on the grill. But when you go to bed, horny and restless, Pope is all that's on your mind. Sometimes you just nap in his bed, curling up in the sheets and blankets that smell of him and drift off to sleep. In your dreams Pope is the one cradling you instead of his bedding. Other times you crawl into Pope's bed with an aching pussy and a determination.
Today was one of those days your pussy had just been pounding all day long, you watched Pope take a morning swim and felt needy ever since. When you spread your legs over his stiff memory foam pillow you're sure you're alone. You cup one of your breasts as they hang from your loose bikini top, rolling your taught nipple between your finger tips. Your other hands holds Pope's pillow still as you rock your hips back and forth. Your bikini bottoms have been discarded somewhere on the bed, so your bare clit writhes against his silky pillow case. You imagine that it's Pope's thigh, or thick abs rubbing your sensitive nub. Whimpers and moans escape from your lips, you don't bother worrying about your volume because you still assume you're by yourself. You grind relentlessly, making a mess on Pope's pillow as you chase your high. You hunch forward, hugging the pillow tight to your core as your orgasm washes over you. You make sure to grab your bottoms, remaking Pope's bed just the way you found it before scurrying back to your room for a shower.
Little did you know Pope was lurking in the doorway pretty much the whole time. He'd come back to the house early to change and stumbled upon you dry humping his pillow. He was sure you just didn't want to use your own but didn't stop you. Instead, he stands where he can watch you clearly as he pulls his own cock from his pants. He bites his tongue and fucks his fist while watching you writhe, coming all over his stomach and hand at the same time you come on his pillow. He makes sure not to watch that pillow case, adding it to the list of fabric articles he uses to get off that relate to you.
Pope had convinced himself that finding you in his room didn't mean anything. He continued to watch you from afar like a creep, coming to anything and everything that reminds him of you. He worries he's over stepping a line the longer this goes on, he's started watching you touch yourself in your own room and listening when you shower.
That is until he finds you in his room again. You've made sure you're home alone before you sneak into Pope's room. Something that you've become all too good at, something you do too often. This time he arrives in the middle of it, approaching softly when he hears your moans and cries. His hawk eyes settle on you through the cracked door; you're on your back, legs spread wide with your two middle fingers pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. Your other hand circles your clit in vicious patterns, making you jerk and shiver. You're red faced, panting and whining so loud it buzzes in Pope's ears.
You're frustrated because you know Pope has a big cock and you're slim fingers just aren't fulfilling your fantasies the way you need. You jam them up into your pussy as deep and as hard you can but it's not enough. You start to whimper uncontrollably, tears pricking your eyes because of how frustrated and empty you feel.
"Andy, please." You sob, shoving a third finger into your needy pussy. You quiver and clench around your fingers, sobbing louder because it's still not what you need. "Want your big dick, mmph!" You whine, imagining him harder than you ever have before, so so desperate. Pope resists every urge in his body to burst through the doorway and shove himself inside you. It's the most difficult thing he's ever had to do but he manages to stay in the door way with his cock in his hand. You pound your pussy so hard and fast that Pope can hear the mess over your moaning and crying. You fuck yourself until your body can't take it anymore, moaning Pope's real name as the thought of him carries you over the line.
Your orgasm rips through you, still somehow disappointing your senses because your fingers can't keep up with the pace you need, on top of not filling you up the right way. Pope comes on himself the moment he hears you come loose, you sob uncontrollably, masking the sounds of Pope grunting because he just can't hold it in. You lay sprawled out on his bed for a few minutes, catching your breath and trying not to feel discouraged. You stand up to find your clothes, deciding it's probably a good time to get out of Pope's room. As you pile them in your arms you stumble upon a pair of his boxers, slipping them in with your stuff before sneaking back to your own room.
Pope decides to take things further after watching you like that. A few nights later after he's returned from a particarly tiring job he enjoys a cocktail you fix for him and the view of you skinny dipping once you think he's gone to bed. He watches you all the way back to your room, lurking as you wind down and get ready for bed. He stands in the shadows as you comb your hair, brush your teeth and crawl into bed. You sleep in a silk slip dress and nothing else, hoping the lack of fabric will help with the aching. Pope stays away until he can tell you've fallen asleep, creeping out into the open to look at you closer. He admires you as you lay tangled in the sheet. Your leg is hooked over some of the blanket, exposing your taught ass to him. Your breasts spill out of the skinny straps of your night dress and your lips relax parted as you take small breaths. Pope feels depraved looking at you like this, he knows he's too close and this is too inappropriate but he can't help himself. He unzips his pants and pulls his cock out, stroking it gently as he runs his knuckles down your cheek. He's confident you're asleep but you woke up the moment you heard his zipper.
You weren't sure how to react at first, but now you're resisting the urge to spring up and beg him to fuck you. You know you'd scare him off. So, you lay there and hope he doesn't realize you're faking sleep. You decide to give him a little show though, rolling over onto your back as if you're just adjusting while sleeping. Pope jolts at first, calming when you've convinced him you're still out. But now he has a whole new view, your tits fall to the sides of your chest, nipples still peaking at him. It's when he looks lower that's the problem, your silk gown has rode up, exposing your bare cunt to him. He sees your trimmed hair that leads down to your swollen clit and puffy lips. His hand around his cock speeds up without him even thinking, the sight of slickness oozing from your pussy driving him crazy. He reaches a hand down between your legs, swiping through your folds just enough to get your arousal on his fingers. He licks it from his finger tips, the taste of you has him spurting ropes of hot cum earlier than he was ready for. Some land on your bed without him realizing. He scurries out of your room quickly to clean up, feeling relieved and disgusted with himself. While he's in the bathroom wiping himself down, you're in your room licking his cum from your sheets while stuffing yourself with your fingers again.
Days later it's your turn to make an incredibly bold move. After Pope snuck into your room you were sure this insatiable lust went both ways. There wasn't another explanation, you were sure Pope wanted you just as much you want him. You concoct a whole plan where you confront him, strip in front of him and let him take you until he's satisfied. But when you knock on his bedroom door late one night you find him asleep. It's odd because you've rarely ever seen Pope sleep. You step closer as you debate waking him up when your eyes land on the intimidatingly large bulge in his boxers. You can't seem to stop yourself when you dip a finger into the elastic and pull it down to expose his length. You gulp as you uncover him, the length and girth making your throat dry and your pussy wet. A wave of excitement washes over you, your pussy clenching around nothing as you run your thumb over his blunt tip. You need to stretch yourself around him, you'll never feel all the way full if you don't.
He twitches in his sleep from your touch but doesn't wake up, you take that as your sign. You slip your shorts and panties down your legs before climbing onto the bed, next to Pope. You kneel next to him, hitching his boxers over his hips to keep his shaft exposed for you. You sling a leg over his hip and slowly lower yourself until your sopping wet entrance is pressed to his burning hot length. You whimper, biting your lip to stifle it as your hands land on either side of his head. He's so handsome, looking extra adorable and enticing with his sharp features so soft and relaxed. You start grinding on him, spreading your arousal all over his tip, shaft and balls. When you're ready you lift him to your entrance and sink down enough to take his tip. It stretches you more than you expect, your breath catching in your throat. Pope stirs beneath you but still doesn't wake fully. You're able to rocking back and forth on his tip to tease yourself open. This time when you shove your hips down you take nearly half of him. Pope jolts awake when you whine too loudly, the impact forcing him out of sleep. He's panting and disoriented at first, looking at you in bewilderment as he fists the sheets next your knees.
"M'so sorry, Andy, needed your big boy cock so bad." You whine, embarrassed he caught you but also happy because you want to see his reactions. "I was awake when you were in my room last week - got to see this fat dick you've been hiding from me, - couldn't go any longer without it." You admit, pressing your hands to his chest as your try to force more of him inside you.
"Fuck! Oh god, doll. Your pussy is so tight. Keep going, please! Strangle my cock, take what you need." He pants, struggling to project his voice, you can still hear the sleep in him. His bigs hands clamp on your hips, forcing you down farther as he pushes himself up. The stretch burns and tingles, his fat shaft splitting you open just the way you've been dreaming about for months now.
"Please, Andy, fuck me, fuck me!" You start to beg, writhing your hips like crazy. The pain spurs you on, you chase the feeling of being so full you could burst. Andy gives it to you, slamming you down on him to the bottom. You scream and cry, tears streaming down your face the second he starts a too quick rhythm. The feeling of you suffocating him, the image of your tits bouncing from the impact and the sound of your wetness all drive him crazy. He gropes your breast, playing with your taught nipple just like he watched you do to yourself many times.
"You can do this anytime you want, sweetheart, you hear me? You come stretch this pretty little cunt on my cock any chance you get." Pope grunts out, thrusting up into you so hard you start to feel dizzy. You nod your head to agree, slamming your hips down to match as you start sputtering and crying again. Pope finds your clit with his fingers, the pads cover much more surface than your own fingers. His circles are rougher, stimulating more area, making you clench and flutter around him so tight he starts panting. "Gonna make you come so hard, you'll never wanna come on anything else." He promises. Pope couldn't believe his eyes when he woke up to you above him. He would've been even more sure he was dreaming if it wasn't for your pussy strangling him so tight. It took the breath from his lungs. Now that's he's felt you he knows he'll never get enough, you might as well have just agreed to be his own personal fuck toy from here on out.
Pope is already making plans of other times and places to stuff you full like this while you come on him. You writhe, crying out for Andy as you claw at his chest. He fucks you through it and then some, to the point that your joints start tingling and he has to hold your body weight up above him. He's so sure you will be full of his cock and come every day you're in here, in this house with him.
pope cody who’s a little shy to intimacy with you at first. not because he didn’t want it, he desperately wanted it but because he was scared of messing things up. (of going too fast, too slow, not having a rhythm, cumming early, anything!)
pope cody who’s a freak—borderline perverted! while he was a little shy at first, after the first three times or so, after you promising him it feels good and he’s doing perfect, he let’s go. he brings every fantasy he’s had of you to life. he’s grabbing, pushing, pulling, bouncing, pinching, rubbing, grunting, moaning, commanding, begging, above, below, everything and everywhere all at once. his hands are on you at every given moment, and when they aren’t he’s imaging they are with his hand on his cock.
pope cody who’s not hard to please during sex. he likes what you like. he gets off to the thought of making you feel good. of knowing he’s the only one who could make you feel this good.
pope cody who’s not too good for public sex. he’ll take you in public restrooms, holding your body up as he stands and bounces you on his cock. he’ll have you ride him in the drivers seat of his truck, parked behind deran’s bar. he only refuses to have you on something dirty or let anyone else see your body. you’re his girl. but he does love teasing you about it. ‘look at you taking it so well, sweetheart. you like the idea of someone catching you like this? all dumbed out on my cock?’
pope cody who always interlaces his finger with yours when slipping it in. he’s obsessed with the feeling of your grip tightening as he pushes himself deeper and deeper inside of you.
pope cody who loves calling you bunny as you bounce on his cock. there y’go. hop on it, bunny. don’t stop. that being said, he’s also such a needy puppy sometimes, thrusting up into you until you fall forward onto his chest. ‘m sorry, bunny. i just need it so bad and you weren’t bouncing fast enough.
author’s note: here’s this little thing while i’m working on all your prompt requests. i’m halfway through writing the first one so be on the lookout for that! and lmk if there are any other characters you want me to write my headcannons for
Contains: smut, teasing, watching, m masturbation, m oral, m cum, cum clean-up, suggestion of f oral, basically the best kind of torture Sammy could ever want, pregnancy/breeding kink reference just once vaguely
vid: thatgreenlight (mine), looks like a possible sammy orgasm face
--🩷--
Sammy called to you in a sing-song voice as you messed with the lamps, turning your sitting room into a soft glow. 'Sammyyyy,' you replied, sitting on the other side of the sofa. He turned to look at you, hazel eyes confused, and his freckled face frowning. 'I need you,' he whined. 'Come sit closer to me.' You smiled at him, already with a plan in mind. 'I know you do, baby,' you leant over do scratch at the golden curls near his ear. Sammy let out a soft moan and leaned into your fingers; hard.
His breathing had changed slightly; a little faster than normal and coming out through parted lips rather than his nose. Sammy's open mouth framed by his soft, plump lips in contrast to his half-lidded eyes made him look innocent; trusting. You were preparing to ruin that.
'Please,' Sammy's gravelly, low voice almost sounded like a whimper. 'Come over here. Touch me.'
You stopped scratching his head and he chased after your fingers for a few inches. He looked at you in obvious betrayal.
You scooted over and snuggled under his arm. Sammy sighed in obvious relief and pushed his face into your hair. You wrapped your arms around his chubby tummy, creasing the white shirt he was wearing, and letting the stress of his day melt away. '... turn me on so fuckin' much,' Sammy growled, squeezing your side. 'You're so warm,' you murmured into his armpit, smelling his deodorant and fresh sweat. It made a shiver run through you. 'Closer,' Sammy demanded, and you cuddled in harder with a leg wrapped around his thick thigh. Sammy tried, and failed, to stifle a soft moan. As the hand around his tummy rubbed against his ribs, you felt Sammy stiffening against your leg. His hardening cock pressed insistently against the top of your knee. It was hot and solid through his suit pants. You teased him; purposefully moving your knee a fraction just to watch it twitch. It pulsed upwards, rearing its head as far up towards Sammy's face as the tight fabric would allow. Sammy groaned softly against your ear; breath hot and heavy. 'Baby,' Sammy whispered in a strangled voice. 'Yeah?' You whispered back, keeping your knee frustratingly still. Sammy tried to move his hips and chase the friction against your leg. Surely he wasn't desperate enough to try and hump your leg? But yes, yes he was.
'Take me out, babe,' Sammy pleaded. His cock jerked upwards again by itself.
'I wanna watch you touch yourself,' your voice quiet and dangerous. Sammy's muscles stiffened. 'You-you do?'
'Yeah.' You looked up at him, smiling and sweet. Sammy's pupils had widened and his top teeth ran over his bottom lip. 'I wanna watch you make yourself feel good.'
Sammy's pillowy face broke into a shy smile. ''kay, babe.' His right hand moved to his suit pant waistband and his chubby fingers began undoing the top button.
'Nuh-huh,' you shook your head, 'over your pants.' You went to move your leg from off of his thigh but his large hand came down and stilled your knee. 'Please stay,' he whispered.
You relented, thinking it would help him feel less self-conscious and came with the added bonus to remain within teasing proximity. 'Show me,' you encouraged, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Sammy looked down at you over his chubby cheeks and nodded quickly. As his large palm first landed over his bulge, he let out a soft grunting sound he couldn't cover. You smiled, already pleased with yourself.
'What would you normally do if you were thinking of me?' Your voice was low; sultry. 'Let me see you touch yourself and feel good.'
Sammy gave a large swallow and nodded, beginning to move his palm up and down his chubby cock, pressing down slightly. He tried to stifle moans but they rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest. You played with a button on his shirt before leaning back, keeping your hands to yourself, and watched his eyelashes fluttering.
'Keep looking at me,' you whispered. Sammy groaned again and made burning eye contact. You could see when he touched himself just right and the pleasure flickered in his irises. His thick fingers struggled to grip around his chubby cock through his dress pants, and he was growing frustrated. Sammy let out a 'mmmf', and thrust his hips forwards.
'You're so big, Sammy,' you whispered, voice thick and cracking. 'Mmmhmmm,' Sammy nodded, too quickly, and pleaded with you using his best bedroom eyes.
'If I say you can touch yourself over your boxers, will you be good and not cum?' Your tone ended as a warning. Sammy sometimes gets himself all excited and finishes too early, earlier than he wants or is proud of; either in your mouth or after finally sinking into your warm, wet cunt, involuntarily filling you with his cum and a squeak before flushing red.
'Yes, yes, anything... just please,' Sammy begged. You nodded and he unbuttoned his pants quicker than you'd ever seen him before.
He sighed in relief, shoulders shuddering, as he pulled himself free from his slacks. He didn't bother taking them off; just pushing them down far enough to release his cock. His big, aching balls spilled into the bottom of his pants.
You bit your lip as you watched his cock spring free. There was a damp, sticky smear across the front of his grey boxers. 'Uhhh-hhhh-hhh,' Sammy let out a wounded groan, his raspy voice lowering and becoming rougher as he became more sensitive without the trousers. You tried to hold back a smile. 'You gonna smirk at me like this doesn't turn you the fuck on?' Sammy raised an eyebrow at you, biting his lip so hard it drew blood. 'Are you really gonna sass me right now?' You challenged. 'No, ma'am,' Sammy replied quickly. 'That's what I thought,' you flashed him a bigger smirk. Sammy moaned at your teasing and rubbed his cock back and forth.
'Tell me what you're thinking about,' you whispered, watching as his long, thick fingers tried to meet in the middle. 'About you,' Sammy flushed red, his breathing increasing. You could feel his heart banging in his chest. 'About your pretty little pussy. About how good you taste when I sink ahhhh between your legs and first oh fffuck lick up you to your cl-cl-clitttt.' Sammy's hand is moving faster up and down his length, hanging heavy and painfully between his legs. 'Yeah?' You whisper, 'and what else?' You lean in and lick a thick stripe up his warm neck and along his puffy jaw, leaving soft little kisses. Sammy lets out a whimper and his hand stills. You pause beneath his ear. 'Keep going.'
'Um and um when you- oh god shittt...' you begin sucking the sensitive skin on his slightly wrinkled neck, scraping down it with your teeth and then licking to soothe the mark. His cock throbs painfully in his fist. Sammy curls his fist closed. It was nowhere near as good as your warm, wet, tight cunt but it'd have to do. You watch his hips begin to thrust upwards until he was fucking into his fist. '... and when you sink on me-eeeey for the f-f-first time and you- oh fuck me... begin grinding against my hips and I start f-f-fucking up-pppp into you.'
You watch Sammy's fist turn slightly before the pull back, seeing how he touches himself when you're not there. Sammy's struggling, his breathing becoming more ragged and his chest heaving. You watch him closely, waiting until you see the telltale signs of his thighs tensing below your knee, his toes clenching down into the carpet, and a small whine escaping his throat.
'Are you gonna cum, Sammy?' You whisper, covering his sensitive neck in kitten licks. 'Oh fuckkk... no?' His voice wobbled, giving himself away completely. 'You better not,' you warn, knowing what that will do to him. As planned, the teasing giving and then the threat of taking it away meant a pulse of pleasure crinkled in his heavy balls. Sammy shook his head wildly, trying to quieten the moans falling from his mouth, his eyelids fluttering closed. Knowing he can't, well, that just tipped him over the edge. 'Ohhh... fuck... mmmmf.' You watched Sammy desperately try to fight his incoming orgasm. 'Ohhhh... oh God... baby- baby it feels so good. I'm gonna cum... fuck I'm gonna-' 'Stop.' You instructed, stilling his fist. You are so careful not to touch his skin under his boxers, knowing that would make him blow his load instantly. Sammy let out a devastated cry but obeyed. He bit back down on his lip; one eye half-rolled into his head with the effort of not cumming in his boxers.
'Please,' Sammy whined, which trailed off into a whimpering sound.
'Please what?' You ask in an innocent voice, your fingers trailing over the inside of his bare thighs. Sammy shuddered at the contract. 'Don't,' he shook his head. 'Don't do that. If you don't stop, I'll cum all over myself.'
You could feel yourself soaking your panties at his desperate want for you. The wet patch on his boxers had gotten bigger with pre-cum.
'You should pull them down now.' Your voice came out more strangled than you meant it to. Sammy quickly started pawing at his boxers with a chubby, freckled hand. He moaned in relief as his thick cock sprang up and slapped softly against his round tummy. The cool air of the room soothed it a little. You looked at the pre-cum with hungry eyes. The blunt tip of his cock was an angry purple, thick and and a defined mushroom at the end of a wide stalk. You leant in, pushing your head near the auburn thatch of pubic hair. Sammy held his breath. You gave one wide lick, tongue gently playing against the hole as you went, and scooped the pre-cum into your mouth. Sammy groaned loudly, his fingers finding your hair. You gave another wet tickle of your tongue against his sensitive frenulum, which had Sammy unintentionally bucking. 'Fuck,' he moaned. 'You know what you're doing to me, oh Jesus Christ.'
You let a pool of spit gather in your mouth before letting it drool between your lips and spill onto his hot cock. 'Oh God.' Sammy's head tipped back. 'Don't- don't ever fuckin' stop.' You straightened, trying not to smirk at his devastated face. 'No, please.' You began tugging at his white shirt. You undid the bottom two buttons so you could pull it up and over Sammy's chubby tummy. You teased your fingertips through his fuzzy belly hair; the auburn happy trail from beneath his inwards belly button and underneath his generous tummy overhang before it joined his curling pubic hair beneath his hips.
'Oh, baby,' Sammy breathed, looking down at his cock, shining with your saliva. 'Let me watch, Sammy,' you purred, kissing under his ear again.
Sammy flushed again, the tips of his freckled ears turning pink. You ran your fingers through his short auburn curls. 'Play with yourself for me,' you breathed. Sammy turned his head to meet your gaze. 'Yeah?' He swallowed thickly. 'Yeah,' you replied steadily.
'Ughhh,' Sammy leaned forwards and you hovered inches from his mouth. It was hotter than if you'd just let him kiss you. His eyes fluttered closed as you leant close, breathing into each other's parted mouths for several seconds. The tension built and then broke as you closed the gap. Sammy whimpered in relief. He deepened the kiss almost immediately, seeking out your tongue with his. The kiss was sloppy and Sammy was needy, licking against your tongue and the roof of your mouth. You pulled away as he began touching himself again.
Using your spit as lube, he began rubbing his palm along his wide length. 'Mm-mmm-hmm-hmmm,' his voice was high-pitched as he touched himself. 'You think about me when you're playing with yourself like that?' You ask softly, watching his fingers tighten around himself as he fucked his fist. Sammy nodded, lips pressed together and eyes fluttering shut. He was incapable of speaking. 'Look at me,' you whispered. Sammy struggled to meet your gaze, looking down and watching himself disappear inside his fist. His angry blunt tip was drooling again, popping out the top of his clenched fingers, before sliding back inside. You were mesmerised watching it, then scanning his face. His jaw was slack, his mouth parted as he breathed out of it. Sammy was trying to look over his chin and tummy to watch his cock. His hips began moving in time, picking up speed as he thrusted.
'Look at me,' you whispered again. You caught Sammy's mouth in a deep open-mouthed kiss. Sammy leant into you and groaned softly into your mouth. You swallowed it, fingers tracing patterns up and down his chest and over his nipples. Sammy shuddered in pleasure. You couldn't help yourself; you dug your nails in and used them down his chest. Sammy cried out. 'Oh, fuck.'
'You gonna show me how you cum when you play with yourself?' You asked, noting the whine he gave you in response. His hips began rutting wildly into his fist. 'Let me watch how you cum when you think about me?' You scraped your nails down his chest again, watching in satisfaction as his eyes rolled back into his head. Sammy nodded, his balls scrunching as his orgasm thundering towards him now. 'How you cum when you just can't get me pregnant?' You said the last words with a pout and a slightly condescending tone... that violently tipped him over.
'Uhh... oh.. oh God.. fuck here it comes... ffffuck oh ohhh I'm cumming.' Sammy's voice broke on the last word. Cum spurted out of his cock in arcs, streaming down his fist and splattering onto his tummy.
Sprays of cum hit back off his skin to land elsewhere as he emptied his balls onto himself. His cum was plastering his pubic hair down to his damp skin. Sammy's head dropped back as he sighed in relief. You leant over and he watched through hooded eyes as you cleaned him up. You gave wide licks over his heaving tummy as he panted, and took his softening cock into your mouth. You sucked gently on his sensitive skin, and then not so gently as Sammy whined at the overstimulation. You sat back up, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and sucking that clean too.
Sammy leaned in to kiss you deeply. He didn't care about tasting himself on you. 'Fuck,' he groaned. 'I'm so... so sorry for the mess.' You laughed and shook your head. 'Was that good?' You asked, smirking again. 'Yeah... so good...' Sammy panted. 'How wet are you right now?'
You laughed again and decided to tell the truth. 'Very.' His eyes twinkled as he flipped you round underneath him. 'I'd better check,' he told you seriously, shimmying down your body. His slacks and boxers were still tight beneath his drained balls. Sammy moaned at the feeling of his soft cock dragging against the fabric of the sofa but he made no effort to tuck himself away - he knew he'd be humping down into it as he ate you out.
jack never argues with his girl. on the rare occasion that he does, he never ever raises his voice at her. on the other hand, she'll yell and scream while fighting. from the beginning, he's known about the small temper that she can get when something really sets her off. a bad trait passed down to her from her father. so he lets her get as loud as she needs/wants to. once she finally takes a deep breath and stops, he'll just give her that look that says, "you done?" and maybe he'll let her get her frustrations out even more in bed.
you tell jack abbot you can’t cum without a vibrator and he proves you wrong. not proofread btw
“i didn’t sit through all those anatomy classes for nothing,” he grumbles, one hand holding your hip and the other keeping his dick in line with your pussy.
“that was what? like fifty years ago?”
he starts shoving himself in before replying, “very funny.”
“ah, ah! i’m—jesus—telling you, jack. it won’t work.”
“you know i have to try, at least once.”
he hasn’t let up on it ever since you told him. you can’t have an orgasm without some sort of toy. of course that simply can’t be true.
he always just assumed it was a preference. the few times you’d slept with him so far, you’d always had a vibrator ready on the nightstand.
“just—let me try, huh?”
there’s a pillow beneath your lower back, and your legs are tensed up around his hips.
“you need to relax, though, honey.”
you exhale a deep breath and nod shakily. “okay, i can try.”
“good, just listen to me. do you feel me here?”
he pushes down on your stomach, just above your pubic bone.
“sort of,” you say to be nice, appreciative of his efforts. you expect him to pull out and give up, suddenly decide you’re not worth the effort.
“okay, tilt your hips up towards the ceiling a little bit. good, hold it right there.”
he rolls his hips back and forward again, dragging against your upper wall and hitting something that makes you yelp.
you slap your hands over your mouth and stare at him with stupid, wide eyes. he ignores you, just keeps rolling his hips up into you with his hand pressing into your stomach.
“good girl, focus.”
one hand leaves your mouth to dig into the linen sheets. expensive sheets. the ones you liked in the store, that jack had to insist you buy.
the other hand stays covering your mouth to keep in all the noises you’d never made before.
“how’s that feeling?”
“pressure—there’s pressure, jack. i don’t know what—”
he shushes you, “you don’t have to do anything, just feel it. feel me taking care of you.”
he runs his big hands up and down your sides, keeping the same rhythm with his thrusts, not speeding up or going harder.
“jack, i think im gonna cum. i’m gonna—oh, jesus christ!”
you sit upwards, instinctively tensing your entire body up. jack pushes you back down with a hand on your chest that moves up to curl around your neck. no pressure, only a firm, reassuring warmth.
your stomach drops into that familiar buzz you thought you could only achieve with a toy.
“c’mon, breathe through it,” he grunts, letting himself go as you clench around him so tight he tips his head back and groans like an animal.
when all is said and done, you’re panting and glistening with a sheen of sweat.
“look at that. didn’t even have to play with her,” he says with a smirk, giving your clit a light slap.
hi, I just started reading your fics and following you, and I love your stuff.. would you mind doing some fics with steve kemp, if I'm not being too forward?🌸
ohhhh I wouldn’t mind at all anon... I actually already have a few steve kemp fics and drabbles written, they’re just collecting dust in my drafts because I still need to edit them!! so yes… you will be seeing some steve kemp from me very soon 🥩👀
making amateur porn with dadbf!jack abbot.... the thrill seeker who loves almost getting caught with his face in the frame.... he calls them your private family films.... walk with me
part two of ex, baby daddy, sammy bryant who wants you back!!
part one! MDNI 18+
warnings: afab, oral (f receiving), fingering, language, couch sex ayy!
Picking up your daughter was a whole different ball game than dropping her off. Sammy insisted you’d come to see his new place he’d been renting for the couple months you two had been split up. It’s nice, a duplex in a somewhat safe part of town, two bedrooms, one bath, it works for him.
You find yourself leaning against his back door, him standing in front of the small grill one of his buddies gave him when he moved out while you watch your daughter on the cheap swing set he’d bought last week.
“Could stay for dinner” he says, back to you, and you try to ignore the way your eyes linger on his back muscles you can see through his white t-shirt. You sigh, pushing yourself off the door and walking to stand beside him. “Do you even have enough for both of us?” You ask, eyes glued on your daughter.
Sammy scoffs like the question personally offended him. “‘Course I do” he shrugs, turning to you with a half smile, almost shy before his eyes drag over your figure and he blows out a breath and shakes his head. You look at him then back over to her, then back to him. “Just dinner.” You raise an eyebrow which makes him put his hands up in mock surrender and chuckle.
Dinner was good, you’ve missed his grilling but will never admit that out loud. It was familiar, which made a weird light in your chest go off, but you’re choosing to ignore that now, coming back from the bathroom and seeing your toddler sleeping on the couch. “Shit” you sigh, not wanting to wake her, but knowing you have to go.
Sammy looks over from the kitchen sink, eyes scanning the situation. He turns it off, grabbing a dish towel to dry his hands as he walks over. “Stay” he shrugs, looking down at her. You scoff softly looking at him “Sammy“ he sets the towel down on the armrest of the couch. “I mean it, it’s only one night, I can take the couch.” He says quietly, softly soothing your daughter’s hair out of her face, careful not to wake her.
“I don’t have any clothes” you bite your nails, looking down at the sundress you’re wearing. “I don’t mind” he says, smirk laying on his lips which makes you roll your eyes and shove his bicep, hiding your own smile. “C’mon, it’s not safe to drive at night in LA, you know that, especially with her in the car.” Fuck. He knows exactly how to get you.
You sigh, nodding and letting your hands fall to your sides, “yeah, yeah okay” you nod. You can tell Sammy’s trying to hide his smile as he picks her up from the couch, disappearing into her room with her in his arms.
He comes out a few minutes later, finding you sitting on the couch watching the late night news. Sammy plops down next to you, stretching his arm behind you on instinct. You notice, you don’t move it. He notices it and smirks, eyes glued to the TV.
After a while he’s turning his head, close enough to smell your shampoo and inhaling, dragging his nose along the vein in your neck. You let out a soft shaky breath at the feeling, letting out a soft warning whisper of his name. “Look s’ beautiful” he whispers into your skin.
You’re craning your neck subconsciously, giving him more room, which he of course takes. Nuzzling his face into the side of your neck, placing wet kisses to it, his hand snaking around your waist, squeezing at your hips.
“Please” he whispers, “please let me make you feel good, been dreaming about it.” You should say no, you should get up and get your daughter, get in the car and leave. But his mouth feels to god damn familiar on your skin and you’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.
His other hand that was resting behind you moves and grabs your face, smashing your lips to his eagerly. You sigh relief into his mouth, kissing him back just as rough. He moves his body, standing over you but mouths still connected before he pulls back, dropping to his knees in-front of you. “Sammy” you breathe.
He nods and lifts your ankles, kissing them sweetly, pushing your dress up your legs, his mouth trailing behind it. You’re running your fingers through his hair, chest rising and falling heavily. Your summer dress is bunched around your hips when he gets to your thighs and when he sees your panties with a wet splotch his forehead falls to your leg, almost in defeat.
“‘S fucking perfect” he whispers, biting softly at your inner thigh. He looks up at you as he hooks his finger in the waistband of your panties, making you nod and lift your hips. He tugs em’ down and you swear you can hear him whimper at the sight.
You see him shove them into his pocket and make a mental note to tug them out later. You can feel his breath on your folds as he leans in, “missed you” he whispers, and you can tell he’s not talking to you but to your cunt, making you smile and roll your eyes, running your fingers through his curls.
He leans in, placing a soft kiss directly on your clit, making you moan softly and arch your back. He hums into you, long tongue sticking out and parting your sticky folds. His big hands both squeezing your thighs and pushing them apart as he settles his shoulders between them.
“S-sammy” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut. “Yeah?” He chuckles against you, lips wrapping around your clit and his middle finger prodding at your dripping hole. “Thank you” he whispers into you, finger curling inside you. “Thank you for letting me do this baby, God I missed doing this.” He says, finger speeding up, making a wet squelching sound as his tongue flicks against your button.
You moan, biting down on your bottom lip trying to stay quiet, fingers tugging at his hair. “Love you, s’ much” he whimpers into you. “Sammy, I’m gonna-“ you gasp, back arching off the couch cushions. He nods, speeding up his movements and shoving another finger inside your hole. “I know baby, I know, come for me, c’mon.” He’s nodding.
You come on his face with a gasp, thighs clenching around his head and you can feel his teeth against you as he smiles. He parts from your pussy with a soft kiss, moving up your body and kissing your lips softly now. “I can take the couch.” He whispers against your mouth and you can still taste yourself on his lips.
You smile, cupping his face in your hands, thumbing his cheeks lightly. “You just had your head between my legs Bryant, I think I’ll survive one night in bed with you.” you smile, brushing some curls out of his face. His whole face lights up and he sits back “really?” You only chuckle and nod, leaning in to kiss him again, “really.”
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