#Sam Wilson Fanfiction

[aquaticmercy]

Not a request but just some thoughts! I don’t know how to explain it but:

Bucky: girl dad through and through

Steve: Boy dad (I love him so much but i genuinely feel if he had a daughter he would raise her like a son because he don’t know what he’s doing)

Sam: Both boy and girl dad, but the boy always turns into a carbon copy of him while simultaneously being a mama’s boy

omg thank you anon for these thoughts!

Enjoys these Dad! Bucky, Steve, and Sam blurbs!

Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes would make the best girl dad. And he’s the best girl dad precisely because everything he’s been through. Because all of the violence and trauma. It’s why he’s so gentle with his daughter, why he’s extra careful around his little girl. 

He spent years being nothing but a weapon, and now that he has the life he shares with you and your daughter, he is so scared of hurting either of you that he treats you both like you’re made of glass. 

He still has that 1940s mindset buried in there, though. Not because he’s a jerk— he knows better than that— but because it’s just there because it was drilled into him from a very young age. 

He catches himself sometimes thinking her daughter should be all dainty and protected and doted on 24/7, and he reminds himself that she has to learn how to be on her own someday.

Still, he treats his daughter like he’s her bodyguard, the way he does with you. He still opens doors for you, stands just a bit too close on the sidewalk. He’s got this invisible shield around both of you. He doesn’t even mean to; it’s just there instinctively.

So now imagine his face when his little girl starts ditching dolls and princesses for more  traditionally masculine things. 

Bucky is very supportive, although he has to manually override some of his 40s brain.

She loves the drums, and he’s all for it. He gets her lessons. He sits next to her during practice to catch all the sticks she drops trying to do complicated tricks. He high fives her whenever she does a sick beat. 

She’s also all about football (soccer). He notices it when she’s cheering for the women’s national team during the World Cup like her life depends on it. 

Bucky immediately starts looking at tryouts and academies. When she has a game, he’s out there on the sidelines, grinning whenever she does anything even remotely good, screaming encouragements when she loses the ball, and celebrating with her when she scores a goal.

But god, it’s hard for him to watch her take a tumble, all elbows and skinned knees. She hits the ground here and there and he winces every time, heart in his throat. He’s so adorably worried until she gets back up and gives her daddy a big thumbs up. 

And yet when she goes in for a not-so-great tackle, he’s the loudest one cheering on the field (and the first one complaining when the ref gives her a yellow card).

But then. Then she decides she wants to try Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. She says she wants to be tough, like him.

This is where Bucky might draw the line. “There’s no way,” he tells you. Not his little girl, rolling around on some mat with kids twice her size, learning to choke people out. 

It makes him think of all the things he’s done, the things he was forced to learn, the violence he was engineered to deliver, and he can’t bear the thought of her going anywhere near that world. 

He wants to shield her from it, to keep her protected, untouched by any of that.

You, of course, see right through him. You sit him down one night and tell him, gently but firmly, that she’s her own person. 

That she’s got his strength. And if she wants to do this, it’s because she wants to be more like him. Because she looks up to him. Because she thinks her daddy is the best person in the world.

It takes a while, but he comes around. But not only because his little girl wants to be like him, but also because he sees so much of you in her. 

You both have the same spark, the same drive, the same way of nudging him to grow. To challenge his thoughts and beliefs.

He watches his daughter march into her first Jiu-Jitsu class with this fierce little smile, the kind he remembers seeing on his own face back in the day.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s terrified. But he’s proud, too. Because she's challenging him to be better, braver, just by being herself. 

And every time he watches her spar, he finds himself cheering—softly, at first. Soon, he’s the loudest parent in the room. His little girl, fighting her own battles, just like her dad.

-

Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers would be a fantastic boy dad.

He’d never admit it, but part of him always fantasised having that kind of relationship with his own dad—playing catch and putting on barbecue, doing all those white picket fence  father-son things. But his dad died when he was young, and even if he hadn’t, Steve would be too small, too sickly, to keep up. 

Now, with a son of his own, he absolutely craves bonding with the kid. And of course he’d love him no matter what, but there's just enough super-soldier serum running through his son’s veins to let him be strong and athletic.

And for a while, everything’s perfect. Steve takes his boy to baseball games, teaches him to throw a curveball, and they spend endless afternoons in the yard sprinting (Steve slows down a bit) and throwing frisbees. During the summer, you could hear them both laughing and talking from sunrise to sunset. It’s everything he dreamed about.

But as his kid grows, Steve starts to feel a distance.

His son’s childhood is just... different.

He’s popular at school and his biggest worries seem to revolve around sports day, acing his tests, and keeping up with all the clubs and extra classes he’s signed up for. His son doesn’t have to fight his way through the day just to be heard or seen. People listen to him. He’s the kid everyone wants to be around. His friends look up to him.

Steve can’t help but remember how different his own childhood was—every day a fight just to prove himself, to survive in a world that didn’t give a weak kid like him any breaks.

He remembers those long, lonely days where he’d sit at the edge of the playground, watching the other boys run across the field, laughing and tackling each other in games he could never join. Sometimes, he’d be nursing a bruised rib or hiding a scraped knee, feeling a bit isolated. He remembers how desperately he’d wanted to be a part of it—to have a world that embraced him instead of challenging him at every turn.

Now, watching his son grow up so different from that—so at ease in his own skin—fills him with happiness. Still, Steve feels a strange tug in his heart. 

Steve can’t help but feel like he’s on the outside looking in, wondering if he can truly understand this world his son is growing up in. He’s scared that him and his son wouldn’t have anything in common anymore.

One evening, after the kid’s asleep, Steve finds himself talking to you for hours about his anxieties.

He tells you how strange it feels, how he doesn't know if he can relate to the person your son is becoming. He can’t shake the feeling that, in some way, his boy’s growing into a world Steve himself never got to experience. A world he cannot help him with.

But you’re there, holding his hand, reminding him that love doesn’t need to look like a mirror. 

A few days later, Steve goes to pick up his kid from school, and what he sees, he will never forget. 

His son was on the playground, standing tall, facing down some older kid who’d been picking on another student— a little boy in a wheelchair. 

Steve’s son was defending someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just like Steve would’ve done back in the day— just like he always does.

When they get home, Steve’s got tears in his eyes as he hugs his son, barely able to say how proud he is. He runs upstairs to tell you what your son did. 

After that moment, all his worries vanish. Steve’s son might not have his struggles, but he's got his heart. 

And that’s all you ever really wanted.

-

Sam Wilson

Sam Wilson as a dad? He’s wonderful. 

You’ve never seen someone so comfortable just rolling with whatever his kids throw at him. 

His little girl has him wrapped around her finger.

When she drags him into one of her imaginary plays, he dives right in without hesitation. 

The two of them have this whole routine now: she’ll declare herself the “Queen of Cupcakes,” and before you know it, Sam’s transformed into her nemesis, “The Grumpy Troll.” 

He’s got a whole stash of masks and scarves just for these characters. He looks ridiculous in a pink tutu and tiara, but he’d never miss the chance to be part of her little kingdom.

But his daughter is not only about tea parties— She’s only eight, but she’s strong-willed and headstrong. She insists on trying things herself first, even if she has to wrestle with it. 

One time Sam reached over to help her open a jar, and she looked up with the most serious little frown, shook her head, and said, “Daddy, I got it.” And she did, after two minutes of huffing and puffing. 

Another time, Sam finds his daughter in the kitchen, a stool dragged up to the counter, sleeves rolled up, determinedly making her own peanut butter sandwich. She’s got peanut butter smeared from cheek to elbow, but she’s concentrating hard, tongue poking out a little as she spreads it just right. When Sam offers to help, she shakes her head without even looking up, determined to get it done.

Then there’s his six year old little boy, who’s gentler, in that way that Sam is. He’s kind-hearted and hilarious in a way that catches you both by surprise. 

After every mission, his son’s the one who toddles over and asks, “Daddy, are you okay?” like he’s got this radar for how people are feeling. He reminds Sam of himself, especially when he worked at the VA.

Sam even found him in the backyard last week, carefully placing a bowl of water and crumbs of bread on the grass. He said “The little bird with the hurt wing might come back, and I don’t want him to be thirsty.”

Another time, he offered his favourite blanket to his sister when she had a cold, even though he always sleeps with it himself. He just tucked it around her shoulders, giving her a quick hug before running off.

And just like his dad, your son is very clingy— very attached to you. If he sees you’re tired, he’ll nestle up on the couch next to you. And when you’re out of the house, he’ll carry your sweater around, or ask a hundred times when you’re coming back.

On the first day of school, your son’s practically clinging to your leg, not quite ready to let go. His eyes are all big, and you could feel how nervous he is without you there. 

Sam crouched down and starts giving him one go his famous pep talks. Before he could finish, his big sister steps in. 

She promises him they’d sit together on the bus and during snack and lunch time, and that she’ll teach him how to be “brave like Daddy.”

Your son squeezes your hand one last time, then lets go, holding onto his sister’s instead as they both walk on the school bus.

“Did you see that?” Sam whispers, his voice full of pride. 

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean back into him, watching your kids grow up in front of your eyes.

-end

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - when snow white (you) escapes into the woods to escape the queen's order to kill, she learns that not all strangers should be trusted.

warning - smut, swearing, choking, under a spell, dubcon, creampie, slight angst, death, breaking and entering, jealousy, oral sex, kidnapping/entrapment, attempted poisoning and murder, group sex, groping, dark content.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The Queen sneers, staring at herself in the mirror. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall.” Her eyes squint, and her back straightens. “Who is the fairest of them all?” The answer she was expecting wasn’t what the mirror gave her. 

“Y/n is the fairest of them all.” The Magic Mirror spoke, a live video of you playing before her, your sweet self hums to the animals, pulling a small bucket from the well, capturing the attention of the many people that pass by. 

“What?!” She screams, and her face becomes red with anger. “No one is more fair than I! The Queen must have the best of everything. Everyone knows that. What could be more fair?” 

“Y/n is the fairest of them all!” The Mirror repeats, not caring for the tantrum the Queen is throwing. 

“What do you know? You’re a mirror!” She huffs, rolling her eyes and storming off. A plan sets in motion as she heads to where the huntsman rests, ordering him to take you out of the equation. 

You had spent your time running through the woods, away from your horrid stepmother and the huntsman that she had sent after you. Your hands clutched your skirt, lifting it from the ground, and your bare feet dodged the many sticks and rocks. Your breath is heavy, and you can hear his footsteps catching up to you. “Little Snow! You can’t run from me! The Queen ordered me to kill you!” You gasp, picking up your pace, desperately trying to distance yourself from him. 

You squeal and cry as your foot gets caught on a root sticking out of the ground. You fall forward, tumbling for a few seconds until you end up on your back. Fat tears cover your cheeks, your eyes are puffy, your hair is ruffled, and your once-beautiful dress is ruined, ripped and dirty. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears as the huntsman appears in your vision, “P–please! You don’t have to do this! I–I won’t tell anyone if you let me go! Please!” You cry you beg, you plead. Your hands curl into the ground, crushing the dirt into your palms. You don’t notice the magic flowing through you and into the ground. You are so caught up in begging the man not to take your life. 

He shakes his head. “I have to. I was given an order.” His head continues to shake, clutching the knife as he desperately doesn’t want to kill you. “If I return and the Queen finds out I didn’t obey, she’ll kill me.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the tears slip past, and your lips tremble. You nod, accepting your fate. You wouldn’t be able to escape this. “O–okay. If taking my life means you get to keep yours, okay.” You breathe in and out, a soft sob passing your lips. Your brows furrow as you are met with silence before a crunch and a groan follow it. You slowly peek your eyes open, wondering what caused the noise, and a shocked sob escapes you when you notice a giant black wolf on top of the huntsman. Yellow eyes stare back at you, and you feel oddly calm before standing on shaky legs. It’s as though the animal is giving you enough time to escape. “T–thank you.” You take off running again, the sky becoming dark as night falls, heading in the opposite direction of the castle. 

You happen to stumble across a wooden cabin tucked away in the middle of nowhere. You rush forward, rapidly knocking on the door. “S–someone! Is anybody there?! I need help, please!” The door is pushed open from your knocks, and you cautiously enter as you receive no reply, looking around. “Hello?” When you don’t get a response, you decide to take a closer look. “Such a dirty place…” You think out loud, “Maybe if I clean up a bit, whoever lives here may help me.” You nod to yourself and walk over to a broom that rests against the wall and grab hold of it. You get swept away cleaning and then cooking before you slowly make your way upstairs, noticing seven large beds, making you wonder who lives here. 

“I hope they won’t mind if I…” You ponder, going over to a bed that reads ‘CRANKY’ and sitting for what was supposed to be a second. The moment your body hits the mattress, your eyes flutter closed, and a deep slumber hits you with full force. 

You wake to someone or something poking you. Your eyes flutter open, blinking as you notice many different men surrounding you. You gasp, scooting to the headboard, pulling your knees to your chest. “Oh, please don’t kill me! I–I promise I didn’t do anything wrong!” Your bottom lip wobbles and your gaze shoots between theirs frantically, wondering if the Queen also sent them. 

A man with blue eyes and his hair in a man bun scoffs. He crosses his arms over his chest, and your eyes land on one of them being shiny. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my bed?” A growl practically escapes his lips, and his eyes scan your body with a lick of his lips. 

You gasp, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I–” You're cut off as you try to get out, but a larger man stops you. His light blue eyes and blonde hair cause your breath to catch in your throat. 

He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Don’t listen to him, ma’am. We are just startled, is all.” He turns his head, glaring at his best friend before looking back down at you. “Now, why don’t you introduce your pretty self and explain why you think we would kill you?” He sits at the end of the bed, resting a comforting hand on your leg. 

“Oh, I do apologise. Where are my manners? My name is Y/n, but I am more known as Snow White.” The men are shocked, wondering what the princess is doing in their cabin. “The Queen is trying to have me killed, and I don’t know why. S–she sent the huntsman out, and he chased me through the woods until I was able to escape, and that is how I stumbled across your home.” 

A throat clears, and you turn your head to look at another man who’s built like a bear, with pretty blue eyes and blackish hair. “She wouldn’t be trying to kill you for no reason. Tell us what you really did. You can’t really be that innocent.” 

“I–I swear–” The man touching your leg interrupts you, giving you a soft look.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself. I can see that you are innocent. I mean.” He looks around at the men with his brows raised. “What innocent person would break into someone’s home and decide to clean and cook? The breaking in part obviously doesn’t sound great, but look at her. She needs help.”

The man with the blackish hair speaks again while nodding. “You’re right. I apologise. We’ve been rude and haven’t introduced ourselves. My name is Clark, but these bastards call me Bossy.”

The man touching your leg smiles. “And I’m Steve, better known as Brawny.” He points to the man with a permanent scowl on his face. “That’s Bucky. We call him Cranky, though.” Bucky rolls his eyes, wondering why the hell they haven’t moved you from his bed yet. Though, he has been having a great time imagining you tied to it while he pleasures you.

Another man with a flirty smile leans against the bed, coming close to your face. “I’m Johnny, yet these guys call me Sleazy. No idea why. I would’ve said Flirty.” Johnny wiggles his brows, loving the shy look that crosses your face.

A man with a beanie and dirty face and hands nods. “I’m Curtis, known as Dirty around these wankers.”

Your eyes land on a man drinking what seems to be alcohol, and his eyes are half-lidded as he stares at you. “I’m Dean or Tipsy. Whatever you prefer, but I’m hoping to make you scream one of them later.” Your eyes widen.

Your attention is pulled away from Dean or Tipsy to a darker man touching your arm, looking at you with a smirk. “I’m Sam, baby. But you can call me Horny.” You blink, stunned, never having heard such words come out of a person’s mouth before, but you know that you cannot judge as you did break into their home.

“O–oh, it’s nice to meet you all. Such interesting names.” You fold your hands in your lap and look around at each one of the men. “I would like to cook you, men, some dinner as a thank you for not kicking me out.” You watch as they nod, and you give a soft smile to Steve, who helps you off the bed. You head down the stairs, and all seven men follow behind, watching your hips sway beneath the dress. They sit, watching as you start to heat the food. It’s magical to them. You turn around, the food nearly ready. “Please go and wash up before dinner.” 

“What? No.” Bucky growls, refusing to get up from the seat while the other men immediately stand and head out. Steve grabs hold of his best friend and drags him out, ignoring the shouts and yells. “Steve! Steve! Stop!” 

You shake your head, turning back toward the pot, stirring it before you turn off the stove and grab hold of it, bringing it to the table and setting it down. “Dinner!” You watch as the door swings open, and the men walk back in with smiles, smelling clean. “Don’t you men look dashing!” They thank you before taking a seat, watching you with wide eyes as you fill their bowls with the delicious-smelling stew. 

Clark tilts his head as you take the pot back to the sink, noticing that you didn’t make a bowl for yourself. “Are you not eating with us?” The other men stop with their spoons midair, looking between you and Clark. “Come, sit. You deserve to eat the food you cooked.” Clark pats his thigh, raising a brow when you don’t move. “I’m called Bossy for a reason. Now, sit.” You scurry over, taking a seat on his thigh, feeling a weird tingling sensation between your legs as you feel how thick his thighs are. “Good girl.” He nods to everyone, and you all begin to eat. Clark occasionally brings the spoon to your mouth, feeding the two of you. 

During the night, you get to know all of the men, laughing and listening to stories. Steve stands, clearing his throat. “I hate to interrupt this wonderful evening, but we have work tomorrow., and I think it is best if we get some rest” The others agree, and you get up to bid them goodnight, practically tucking them into their beds and placing soft kisses onto their foreheads. You are about to head back downstairs, needing to find somewhere to rest, but Steve stops you. “Y/n, here.” You spin, heading over to him with furrowed brows, wondering what he is talking about. He pulls back the blanket and pats the space next to him. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude more than I have.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling like you’ve been a bother. “I can find somewhere else to sleep. I saw a blanket downstairs.” Steve gives you a look that makes you quickly crawl into the bed, and your body shivers when you realise how cold you’ve been compared to the warm man. Your body curls into his larger one, sighing as sleep takes over you before you can even register.

You wake to birds chirping and the sun shining through, your eyes flutter open, and you stretch your arms above your head. You slowly pull Steve’s arm off of you and get out of bed, making your way downstairs, and you decide to prepare breakfast for the kind men. You cook eggs, bacon, pancakes, and a fruit platter, wanting to give them a filling meal for their big day. You smile and turn as you hear the men bound down the stairs, dressed for work with hunger in their eyes. “Good morning! I thought I’d make you guys some breakfast before you go. I hope you don’t mind.” 

They smile, thanking you before sitting down. The same happens as the night before. Clark pulls you into his lap and feeds you some of his breakfast, ensuring you also get to eat. You stand once you finish, gathering the dishes and walking over to the sink, gently placing them down before walking to the door and handing the men their coats.

Clark is the first one to grab his coat, thanking you. “I hope you have a good day today.” You lean up, resting your hand on his muscular arm and kiss his cheek softly. Clark smirks, tipping his head before walking out the door.

Steve is next. Once his coat is on, he leans down for you to reach his cheek. “Thank you, Snow.” Steve turns his head and returns the favour, kissing your cheek and smiling as you become shy. 

Bucky huffs, “Can we hurry this up? We have work to do if you haven’t noticed.” But everyone ignores him, and he watches with envy as you continue to give each man a kiss.

Curtis gently takes his jacket from your tiny hands, closing his eyes as he feels your soft lips on his cheek. A smile on your face, “Have a good day, sweetheart.”

Johnny walks up next, smirking at you and already leaning down. You give him a soft smile and lean forward, but he turns his head last second, and you gasp. “I–I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” You freak, staring wide-eyed at the happy man. 

“Don’t worry bout it, Baby.” Johnny winks, giving your arse a smooth pinch before strolling out. You feel your body and cheeks heat up, eyes still wide as you watch him leave.

“Well damn. He did it before me.” Dean rolls his eyes, slapping your arse after you give him a kiss as well. “Doesn’t matter. Have a good day, Sugar.”

Sam pulls you close, tapping his cheek before resting his hands on your hips. He groans as you lean up and kiss his cheek softly. His hands move down and squeeze your cheeks, pulling you even closer. “Mmm, Snow. You make a man so feral.” 

Once Sam leaves, it leaves the last man, the crankiest of the lot. Bucky grumbles, going to reach for his coat, but you pull back slightly and give him a pout. He rolls his eyes, bending slightly, and when you gently kiss his cheek, his whole face grows pink. “Whatever.” Bucky clears his throat and quickly leaves, leaving you in their cabin all by your lonesome, not prepared for what is to happen next. 

You hum to yourself, beginning to clean the place. You don’t notice the magic swirling around you, calling the forest animals to the cabin, some even helping you clean. You wash the men’s clothes, and the birds hang them along the line. You are so lost in your own world that you don’t notice an older woman watching you from the shadows, a scowl on her face, but the older woman also doesn’t notice the large black wolf watching her. 

You giggle, leaning over to pet the cute little bunny that hops in your direction before you walk inside the house. Your hands become busy as you begin to prepare another apple pie, continuing to hum to yourself. “Excuse me.” You turn, hearing a knock at the open window and someone talking. You smile softly, walking closer to the older woman. “I–I’m so sorry for bothering you. I am just a poor old woman trying her best to sell some delicious apples.” 

You lean against the counter, peeking over the window sill and looking at the basket of apples. “That is perfect! I’m baking an apple pie and in need of some apples!” You give an innocent smile to the older woman.

She reaches her hand into the basket and grabs a big red apple that sits at the top. “Take a look at this big red apple.” She holds it up to your face, watching you stare at it in wonder at how perfect it looks. Your hands slowly reach up to touch it, but the woman jerks it back. “Lovely, isn’t it? But you cannot touch without a price.” 

You gnaw on your bottom lip, looking between the woman and the apple with furrowed brows. You desperately needed more apples to make the pie. It had to be perfect. “I need that apple… But I, uh, I don’t have any money.” 

She thinks, knowing that this apple contains something horrible. The Queen realised there was no point in a price when she would finally have you dead. That was good enough. “Oh, my dear. No need to worry for a first-time customer. I will let you have this apple for free.” You look at her, shocked, cupping the apple as she hands it to you. She watches you, desperately wanting you to take a bite out of it in front of her, but she doesn’t get her hopes up.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! How can I ever repay you? You are so kind. Please let me give you something!” You go over and grab a plate of freshly baked biscuits, heading back over to her. She tries to refuse, but you persist. “Oh please, It wouldn’t feel right if I were to take this for free. Please take as many as you want.”

“Okay, thank you. That is kind of you, my dear.” The older woman takes one, bidding you goodbye before disappearing into the shadows again, wanting to watch what unfolds. Her eyes widen as she watches you begin to cut the apple, mixing it into the mixture of the pie. She thought the call of the apple would cause you not to resist a taste. “Oh, no, no, no! This won’t end well. You stupid girl, you should’ve eaten the apple yourself.” She huffs, stomping her foot. “The poison only works for those it is intended for… If she serves it to others, it can have side effects, and I do not need that in my hands.” She growls to herself, knowing that she will have to put a stop to this or kill more people than intended. 

Before the Queen can return to the cabin, she is met with the giant black wolf. Its teeth bared as it growled. She scoffs, waving it off. “Be a good puppy and leave. You can’t destroy the Queen.” Her eyes widen as your hums begin again as you place the pie in the oven, and she realises that you are the one controlling the animals, even if you don’t know you are. In the moment of shock, the wolf lunges, and your sweet melodies drown out her screams.

You are happy with how the pie has turned out, placing it on the window sill to cool down. You wait patiently for the men to return home, sitting curled up in a chair with a book between your hands. You’ve made the house more into a home, having gone out and picked some pretty flowers to put in a vase, gathering some wood for the fireplace, and keeping the food warm for when they walk through the door, their clothes all folded neatly. You stand when you hear them, their voices carrying through the air. 

Clark opens the door with a smile, “Hello, Little Snow. I notice that you’ve been busy.” He moves past you, brushing his hand across your hip as he moves to the pot, smelling the delicious scent. 

The rest of the men enter, Steve, being the second after taking his shoes off and giving you a large grin. “Snow! Did you have a good day?” You nod, giggling as he brings you into a hug. He lets go of you and walks over to the pot also, not used to coming home to dinner already prepared.

“Sugar!” Johnny enters, pulling you into him immediately by gripping your arse in his large hands, causing a squeak to fall from your lips. “You look so good. I could just eat you up.” He grumbles when Dean and Sam push him to the side. “The hell?” 

“You're hogging her,” Dean grunts, pulling you against him, and your eyes widen when you feel him grope you so freely. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re so tiny.” He blinks down at you, and you get a whiff of the alcohol already on his breath. 

Sam grows annoyed, pushes Dean out of his way and pulls you against him also. “Don’t hog Snow here. I want some too.” His large hands grip your arse, rubbing his bulge against you, groaning softly. “How you doing, baby?” 

Curtis and Bucky stand near the entrance, watching everything unfold. You smile softly at Sam as you let go, walking over to the two men and ignoring the shocked gasp they let out as you pull them into a hug, greeting them with your kindness. “Come, sit. Dinner’s ready, and I’ve made a pie for dessert!” You skip over, waiting for them all to take their seats before you grab the pot and serve the food. Dinner goes well, and it’s finally time for them to taste your sweet pie. You walk over to the pie, carefully picking it up before bringing it to the table and serving them a slice each. “I hope you guys enjoy.” 

The moment the pie hits their tongues, the magic begins to flow through everything and everyone, eyes turning a bright pink for a split second before they let out soft groans from the flavour that explodes on their tastebuds. You don’t notice anything that has happened. You are too happy to see that they enjoyed your baking. 

The atmosphere in the room has changed. Every single man in the room felt their heartbeat quicken and their breathing become heavier. Their eyes are half-lidded, and their members harden, growing rapidly in their pants. It seems their gaze is set on you, eyes darkening as they look you up and down, slowly getting out of their chairs and surrounding you. 

“That was a great pie, Little Snow,” Clark growls, getting closer. “But I want to taste something a little bit sweeter.” You squeal as Steve and Bucky hold you, ensuring you can’t move as Clark kneels, lifting your dress and letting out a thick groan when he realises you haven’t been wearing anything underneath, your folds slick with your juices. “Aren’t you a dirty little girl? Wearing nothing while staying with a bunch of men.” You moan as he surges forward, licking from your hole to your swollen button. “Fuck, she tastes so much better than that pie.” Your walls clench when Clark moves close again, gripping your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your soaking cunt, licking and sucking. 

You whine as Steve grips your chin, turning you to face him and locking his lips with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Bucky groans. The hand that isn’t gripping you moves to your plump breasts and squeezes and fondles them. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Clark begins to suck on your swollen clit. You whimper into Steve’s mouth before gasping as a finger softly pokes against your entrance, breaching into it with a slow thrust. Your head falls back onto Steve and Bucky’’s shoulders, not noticing the other men rubbing their bulges through their pants, watching the scene before them with dark eyes. 

A choked whine escapes you when Clark curls his fingers while Bucky and Steve suck on your hardened nipples, swirling their tongues around. Your back arches, hands gripping their shirts as your vision becomes white and your juices flow out of your sopping cunt, covering Clark’s smirking face. “Fuck, Little Snow. You taste even more divine.” He curls his fingers in, happily watching how you twitch, your arousal still flowing out. “Men, clear the table. We are in need of a different kind of dessert.” He commands, standing to his full height and stepping aside. 

Steve and Bucky pull you toward the table, carefully setting you down and stepping back. All of the men stand and admire how beautifully blissed out you look. Johnny stumbles forward, his hardened member already hanging out of his pants, and you gasp as your gaze falls upon it. “T–that won’t fit…” You begin to shake your head as he slips between your spread legs, pulling you flush against him. 

Johnny smirks, tapping your cheek. “Dumb little sugar. I’ll make it fit. You’re so fucking wet. I’ll slide in so easily.” He reaches down and grips his throbbing base, tapping his leaking tip against your swollen clit before lining up against your entrance. Johnny groans when he pushes in, gasping at how tight you are around him. “Oh god! You feel so good, Sugar.” His hands grip your hips, slowly pulling out before thrusting into you harder. A grin forms on his face at how your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting out a sob as his tip hits your sweet spot.

You are suddenly lifted, and your eyes widen when you feel something poking your already stretched hole. Your head turns slightly, and you notice Sam giving you a cheeky smile, “Don’t worry, Snow. I’m just gonna join in on the fun.” You gasp when he slowly begins to push in, stretching you even more alongside Johnny. Sam’s head falls back, and he groans, “Holy fuck! You’re so fucking tight!” His grip tightens on your hips, and the thrusting begins between the two men. When one pushes in, the other pulls out, and your screams fill the cabin. Johnny pulls you into a deep kiss while Sam grips your hips and pounds hard into you. “Oh man, can you feel how tight she is?” 

Johnny nods, groaning. “Fuck yes! I don’t think I’m going to last long!” His pace picks up, slamming harder and faster into you before he buries his face into your neck as thick amounts of cum spurt out of his angry tip. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Johnny slips out of your stretched hole, sagging into a chair as Sam pulls you down, pounding into you from behind, thrusting Johnny’s cum deeper into you. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sam slams into your sweet spot, causing your walls to clench around his thick member and your juices to squirt out of you.

“Good little princess,” Sam growls into your ear, slamming his cock harder into you before burying inside of you, releasing his cum deep into you. “Fuck.” Sam moves back, the magic draining out of him, and he sags next to Johnny, their eyes fluttering closed. 

You squeal when you feel someone grabbing the back of your head before you start gagging as Curtis shoves his thick member into your mouth, thrusting in and out. “Jesus.” His head falls back, and his eyes half-lidded. “You’re mouth is so warm.” His hands hold your head, and he pulls out slowly before thrusting in again. You moan around him, swirling your tongue around his swollen tip before starting to suck, loving the salty taste that lands on your tastebuds. 

Dean smirks, gripping his throbbing member and tapping his angry tip against your used folds. He lifts your hips before sliding in, groaning at how tight you feel wrapped around him. “Damn, sweetheart. How are you still so fucking tight? You were just stretched by two cocks.” He begins to set his pace, pounding into you, pushing you to choke on Curtis’s cock. “Go on, sweetheart. Choke on his cock.” He groans, fucking into you faster. His tip repeatedly hits your sweet spot, loving how you feel as you squeeze his cock. “Shit! I’m so fucking close!” 

While Dean is busy chasing his orgasm, Curtis holds your head down and thrusts into your throat. His head rolls back as you moan around his member. “Such a sweet mouth for a sweet woman.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, gagging around him, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when Dean fills you, setting off your orgasm, causing your arousal to coat him, and the vibrations from your moans cause Curtis to groan and release deep into your mouth, gripping your chin until you swallow and show him. “Good girl.” 

You whine as both men pull out and watch through blurry eyes as they also sag into the chairs. Your head flops down onto the hardwood table, breathing heavily. “Do you think we are done with you, Doll?” Bucky steps up, a pink swirl in his eyes as he peers down at your used form. “There’s still three of us.” You gasp when he picks you up, wrapping your legs loosely around his hips while lining his tip with your entrance. Steve steps behind you, and his hand strokes his cock up and down. Your eyes roll back, and your head flops onto Steve’s shoulder as Bucky pushes in. A loud whine escapes you when Steve follows suit, slipping his giant cock through your tiny hole. 

Both men begin to take turns pounding in and out of you. Clark steps forward and grips your chin, turning your head to capture your lips with his. “Who knew Snow White was secretly a whore. You like being used by seven men, honey?” You moan, nodding and clutching onto whoever you can. Clark grips your throat softly, making your dazed eyes look at him. “Of course you do. Only a little whore like you would like being used. No wonder the Queen wanted to get rid of you.” He moves closer, smirking as Steve and Bucky pick up their pace, causing your mind to go fuzzy. “She couldn’t have any competition because you’d end up stealing the attention of men away from her.” You nod along, barely hearing anything that leaves his mouth, too focused on the intense pleasure coming from between your legs. 

Steve presses forward, his hands kneading your breasts as he buries himself deeper inside you. “You feel so good, Snow.” He begins to kiss your collarbone and shoulders, groaning as you tighten around him. He picks up his pace, feeling his balls tighten and his cock twitch, a loud groan escapes him as cum spurts out of him, filling you to the brim. “Fuck…” He pulls out, sagging into a chair, his eyes falling closed. 

Bucky moves you, pushing you against a wall and pounding hard into you. “Fuck, take my fucking cock.” He grunts, bouncing you against his thrusts, filling you repeatedly. “You better take my fucking cum, slut. It’s what you are made for.” His metal hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, feeling his cock throb when your eyes widen and your walls spasm, squeezing the life out of his cock. “Oh, what a dirty little slut you are. Who would’ve known you liked being choked.” Bucky smirks before he grunts, burying himself deep inside you and releasing large amounts of cum. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The moment he pulls out, his body does the same as the others, and before you can fall, Clark catches you and gives you a dark smile. 

“Oh, poor Little Snow. You should’ve chosen another cabin.” Your eyes widen when his eyes flash, and his cock fills you immediately. Even though the Queen was dead, it didn’t mean her minions died along with her. They just now had a mind of their own, a darker, more twisted mind. Your moans and screams echo outside the cabin. Clark’s member was bigger than the others, practically splitting you open. He growls, gripping your throat tightly. “You better find a way to wake the others when I’m done with you because you are ours now.” You are suddenly bent over the table, surrounded by the sleeping men, your nails dig into the wood, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as Clark slams deep into you. 

Your vision goes white as he repeatedly hits your sweet spot. Your juices squirt out and cover him and everything around. Your head hits the table as he continues before filling you with his cum, mixing with the others. You barely have time to register Clark’s body dropping as the magic leaves him. You shakingly stand, your legs wobbling, and you grip the table beneath as you look around and take in the sleeping bodies, or so you thought. You stumble over to the closet man, which happens to be Steve and feel his pulse. 

Your eyes widen, and your body drops as a wail escapes you, magic exploding from your body as you release every emotion you’ve been keeping in. Your eyes begin to close, and the last thing you hear is the men coming back to life, their hands grabbing you and bringing you upstairs. 

Come morning. You would learn never to trust strangers. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[bucksangel]

please reblog for a bigger sampler size!

*if you picked other, please explain in the comments or tags!

[siancore]

After those particularly tough missions, Sam lets his frustrations out in the shower. Lets the water wash away that heavy feeling in his shoulders as his tears are lost to the warm stream. It feels forgiving as it cascades down his aching body, taking all of his tension down the drain along with the blood and the dirt; along with the fading screams. It feels like it absolves him. Almost like a warm embrace. There's something safe in that feeling. Sam stays there until the water runs cold.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Midnight Rain

“I broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain…”

Request from ao3- "ok but imagine a grumpy/sunshine fic with sam but the reader is the grumpy one 🤷" For one of my fave readers, @/badasswithafatass I hope you enjoy! 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

“You know, for a smart guy, you’re pretty fucking dense," Bucky mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

“Aw… you think I’m smart?” Sam sarcastically awes from the bar stool beside Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “Do you honestly think she had any real interest in me?”

Bucky doesn't miss the tick in Sam's jaw at the mention of you. Months had passed since the last time Sam saw you, and he wasn’t too keen on remembering that dreaded last night. Just the memory of you leaning over the bar counter, hand resting on Bucky’s chest, whispering something in Bucky's ear, was enough to make Sam's stomach twist into a knot.

Even before that night, he could tell that you were pulling away from him, but there it was, that night, the final nail in the coffin. That was the last time he’d seen or heard from you. You walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Sam rolls his shoulders back, his mouth twisting in distaste, “Sure seemed like it to me.”

“See? Dense,” Bucky declares, tipping his beer in Sam's direction.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How does any of that make me dense?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to actually explain?”

“Sam, she’s a spy, an assassin," Bucky explains like it should be obvious. "She knew you were standing there. She knew you were watching.”

"So maybe she wanted to make a point. It’s not like she was one for talking or communicating, maybe that was her way of letting me know how she actually felt. Trust me, I got the message loud and clear. That doesn’t make me dense."

"Sam..." Bucky takes a long breath. "We're a lot alike, me and her. And people like us, we cut and run, it's what we do. We don't wait for things to go bad, we live with the expectation that things will always go bad."

Sam tosses the rest of his whiskey back, flagging down the bartender for another one. "That's a depressing way to live."

“It keeps us alive.”

“We weren’t on a battlefield!" Sam spits through gritted teeth. "We were done with the fight, remember? We won, for Christ’s sake!”

“And where did that leave her, Sam? With a conditional pardon? People watching us 24/7?”

“With me!” Sam snaps, slamming his glass down on the bar. “It left her with me. We were good, Bucky! We were happy together. At least, I thought we were happy together. I even- I told her that after everything, that I would take her back home, meet my family, maybe settle down a little.”

"And while you're thinking about taking her home to meet your family, she's probably thinking how a family like yours is going to react to you bringing an actual assassin home."

"I... didn't think about it like that,” Sam confesses, faltering for a moment. He shakes his head. No. He refuses to accept that. It didn't excuse that he'd found you flirting with his best friend. It didn't change that you told him he meant nothing to you. “Because I don't think about her like that. And you know what? She could've talked to me, she could've told me she felt like that, Bucky, but she didn't."

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

"I don't think you two will ever work."

"That's a shitty thing to say to me," Sam spits.

"I don't," Bucky admits with a languid shrug. "Honest truth, I don't see it."

"You don't have to see it, I do,” Sam firmly states. “I see it working out."

Bucky claps a hand on Sam's shoulder with a tight lipped smile, "That's my point, Sam. That's the difference between you and us. You, you live for the hope of it all. She doesn't know how to do that. I don't know how to do that. We're broken, haunted people, Sam. We hurt people that get too close."

"You're wrong."

"Why else-"

"Because she was bored!" Sam angrily shouts, not caring at the stares his outburst brings. "She only wanted me because I was there."

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes. I do believe that,” Sam hisses. “Unlike you guys, I believe the words that come out of people’s mouth. She was bored... She was bored and I was there.”

Bucky takes a long pull from his beer, rising from his seat with a defeated sigh. He turns to Sam to offer one last piece of insight, “All I’m saying is I wouldn’t go on the run with someone for two years because I was bored. Not unless I really gave a shit about them. Not unless I loved them, like really loved them.”

"Do you mean that?" Sam asks over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean that."

--

3 Years Earlier - Somewhere in Scotland

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Sam raises up his hands, “No arguments from me.”

The doorknob rattles for a moment, opening just enough for you to stand before them. You look at them and immediately try to snap the door shut, “No.”

Nat extends out her hand to stop the door from swinging shut. “Just hear us-“

“No.”

"You don't even know why we're here," Nat argues. “It’s important. Please.”

You relent, allowing the door to fling open. Standing tall in the doorway, your eyes rake over each of them, “Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov or whatever name you’re going by now, and Sam Wilson, all in the flesh, all the most wanted fugitives on Earth. So I don’t care how important it is, my answer is no.”

Sam’s eyes comically widen, his voice taking a slightly bewildered, high pitched tone, “How did - Do you happen to know the names of all strangers that show up at your door?”

Your eyes dart over to Sam with a grimace, “Strangers that show up at my door end up dead. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I want you to know I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Sam quips, placing his hand over his heart. 

“Don’t worry, Sam," Natasha smirks over her shoulder. "She’s more bark than bite. And this is me calling in a favor.”

Your eyes narrow at Natasha, "Which favor?"

"Budapest."

Your mouth narrows into a thin line as you glare at her. You hated that favor.

You look back at the three of them. Even dressed in street clothes they all stuck out like sore thumbs. They’re all disheveled, clearly exhausted, and you did owe Natasha. You convince yourself that there is no good in this deed, it’s just a repayment. Even as your eyes linger back to Sam for a second too long. You tell yourself you don't care what happens to any of them. It's just paying a debt. “Fine. Just keep me out of it.”

Natasha nods, offering a small grateful smile, “Thank you.”

You turn on your heels without another word, striding down to your room. You slam your bedroom door shut, leaving the others on their own.

“It was nice meeting you,” Sam calls after you.

You don’t bother to reply.

After a few hours, the sun sets and your safe house returns back to its normal quiet state except for the soft snores of Steve Rogers in your spare bedroom. You’re certain that they’ve all gone off to get some rest. That is, everyone, except Sam Wilson.

“Have a good nap?” Sam greets you, sitting on the small couch in the middle of your living room.

Your eyes snap over to Sam, lightly scoffing, “Actually, I was avoiding you.”

Your brutal honestly doesn’t phase Sam. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he playfully tugs on the collar of his t-shirt, “I tend to have that effect on the ladies… That sounded better in my head.”

“For you and me both,” you quip.

“You know, you’re kind of a jackass.”

“I know. Thanks.” That's the only conversation you plan on having with Sam Wilson. You continue walking to the kitchen without saying anything else.

"So how long have you and Nat been friends?" Sam asks, trailing you as you walk to your kitchen, clearly not taking the hint that you don't want to talk to him.

You scoff over your shoulder, "Who said we were friends?"

"So you're not friends? Because the whole letting us hide out here, housing us, letting us eat your food, not turning us in, sorta gave me a different idea."

"We're not friends."

In truth, your relationship to Natasha was much more complex than that. At one point, you were like sisters. In the Red Room, she was all you had. Your only friend. Your confidante. And still, you could never quite live up to her, always second to her. You knew all her secrets, all the blood spilt, all the skeletons in her closet, and she knew all of yours.

The night before your graduation, you ran. As far away and as quickly as your legs could carry you.

You were never quite sure if it was irony or simply Dreykov’s own cruelty, but she was the one tasked to find you and collect you. You never stood much of a chance against the person that spent almost two decades besting you. She found you in Budapest. It would’ve taken a single shot. And still, it never came.

But you weren’t going to tell that to Sam.

"You're not friends?”

"No."

After that, your paths crossed only once in a blue moon. Once Natasha left Dreykov, she never sought you out. And you didn’t bother to either. You weren’t friends. You weren’t enemies. She was the sister that became little more than a stranger.

"Do you help all your not friends run from the law?"

"Natalia and I have an agreement of ... mutually assured destruction."

"Mutually assured destruction?" he dubiously repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "...So best friends."

In spite of your best efforts, your outwardly stoic expression gives way as a chuckle bubbles out of your mouth.

"Did anyone see that?” Sam proudly announces to the empty house. “I want it on the record that I made a Black Widow laugh!"

"Don't push it," you warn, though the hint of a smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth dampens the threatening undertone of your words.

"You've got a nice smile," Sam compliments.

You wipe the smile off your face, but there's nothing you can do to tame the slight blush creeping up your face, so you say the first thing that comes to mind, "Fuck off."

--

That's how it went between you and him. Push and pull.

Their time at your safe house in Scotland was short lived. No more than a few weeks. And even in those few short weeks, he saw it, saw the good that you desperately tried to keep hidden. Even then he knew, he knew you cared so much more than you would ever let on. Cooped up in your little cottage, he found that behind your barbed words and tough exterior, was a person that he really liked. You didn't let him see very much of it. Most of the time, it was in little slip ups, little cracks in your armor, but he saw it. He swore he did.

Sam ambles alone through the streets of New York, the pavement is still damp from the midnight rain, the noisy cityscape is the only thing keeping Sam from fixating on the endless loop of memories playing in his head.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about you anymore. He did. All the time.

He thinks about how good it used to be. How even on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, it was good. He'd like to think you were as happy as he was.

In truth, he wasn't sure how or when it happened. You weren't very nice to him - to any of them really. You kept them at arm's length. He had to earn every glimpse of the person behind the armor. He had to earn every smile, every laugh, but he found each one was worth it. To him, you were worth it. You were worth all of it. 

And when that time came, when that safe house wasn't safe anymore, you stayed by his side, you became his home. 

--

You simply walked up to the breakfast table and announced that it wasn't safe to stay much longer. "You have to leave."

"What?"

"We've been here too long. People in town are beginning to talk."

Natasha didn't miss a beat. "How long?"

"Tonight."

Sam watches the interaction closely. You refuse to look at him. For a moment, Natasha's eyes look at you, imploring. She utters a quiet question in Russian.

You don't respond, only shaking your head once.

"I understand." She softly inhales, her shoulders slumping slightly, "Thank you."

You nod, turning on your heels and heading to your room. You didn't expect Sam to follow after you.

There's some part of you that's unsettled by how easily Sam fits into your life. You don't like how he speaks to you like you're friends. You don't like that there's a part of you that would love to know what being in Sam's life would feel like. And you most certainly don't like that Sam has no problem questioning you. Prying into your life. He won't like what he finds. He'll run the moment he sees the number of skeletons in your closet. No, you don't like that at all. 

And you definitely don't like that he feels comfortable enough to follow you back to your bedroom. He wedges himself into your doorway, leaning against the wall, "So what about you?"

You don't turn to look at him as you pack your duffle bag, "What about me?"

"Where you gonna go?"

"I have other places."

"By yourself?"

"Typically."

"Why don't you stay with us?"

You pretend like you're surprised by the offer. As though Natasha didn't offer the same thing two minutes ago. You just didn't expect Sam's kindness to extend past his need for your safe house. "What?"

He takes a step off the wall. Even turned away from him, you can practically hear the grin he wears in his words. "We could always use the help. You seem like kind of a pro at being a fugitive."

"I don't think your team would appreciate my presence."

"I would. I want you to come." Sam turns back at the doorframe. He pauses for a moment, looking back at you. "You should come with us."

--

You never told him why you ended up joining them. It was the one question he couldn't ever get a straight answer for.

He couldn't really remember how or when you ended up in his bed - or more accurately, when he ended up in your bed.

All he knew was that for two years, you were his sanctuary. Each and every night. He held you. Kissed away your fears. You allowed him to see parts of you that you buried long ago. 

It made the moment you walked away hurt even more. 

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing here. He's pacing through the streets of New York in the middle of the night. It won't bring you back. It won't change what happened. You still left him.

It was easier believing that you left him because you didn't love him. 

The other option hurts. It hurts too much. His heart almost shatters at the though of you leaving him because you didn't see it working out, because you thought you would hurt him. 

That's the worst part - he believes Bucky. He believes that no one, not even someone as prone to finding trouble as you are, would ever go on the run with someone for the hell of it. Not unless you cared. Not unless you loved him. 

He should've seen it. The panic in your eyes when he suggested going back to Louisiana. The pain when you lost Natasha, the last person you considered family. 

It eats at him. He didn't even try. Not really. Yeah, you walked away, but he could've gone after you. He could've believed in the love he knew you shared. 

He reaches for his phone, tucking into the crook of his neck as he hails a cab, and calls the one person that could possibly help him, "I need your help. Can you find someone for me?"

--

1 Year Earlier - Somewhere in Eastern Europe

“Stop watching me sleep.”

Sam kisses your bare shoulder, resting his chin on your arm, “It’s the only time you’re not frowning. Except when you’re with me, of course.”

You sleepily sigh, trying to suppress the smile that Sam so effortlessly puts on your face. You halfheartedly push him away, rolling further away from him, “I’m going back to sleep.”

Sam’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, “No, come back.”

“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, we should get the rest while we can.”

“I miss you,” Sam whines.

“I’m right here.”

“But we’re always talking about work, about the world ending, I just - I just want a minute, just me and you.”

You finally turn around to face him with a cheeky grin, “You had me to yourself all night, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, “So why couldn’t you sleep?”

He smiles down at you, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, “I was thinking.”

“About?” you urge.

“What comes next. After the fight, after everything, about going home, finally seeing my family again. My sister would love you. I can't wait to introduce you."

Your smile slips from your face. "What?"

"I mean, I know we're on the run and everything, but I'm still holding onto hope," Sam confesses. "You'd love Louisiana."

A sinking feeling overtakes you. Those survival instincts you've spent your entire life cultivating bubble up. You could see Sam's family picture where he left it on the dresser. His picture perfect, shiny family.

That wasn't you. Not even in your wildest dreams could that be you. The closest thing you had to a family was the Black Widow sitting in the other room cleaning her knives. You weren't meant for domesticity. You weren't built for the happy ending that Sam deserved. The happy ending he wanted. 

Sure, he loved you now, but would he love you when his family looks at you with disdain? Would he love you when Sarah refuses to let you anywhere near his nephews? 

Or even worse, what if he did? What if he loved you through it all and you broke him in return? What if he loved you and he lost everything else because of it?

You could tell Sam. Right here and now. Tell him that you weren't built for that life. He would listen. He would hear you. Like all of your other scars and imperfections, Sam would take it in stride. You knew he would. 

But could you really do that to him? Doom him to a life tethered to someone so tainted.

He was perfect. In every conceivable way. He was Sunshine. And though you'd done unspeakable things, there would be nothing quite as vile as dragging him down to the dim, murky depths of the wasteland you called home.

He deserved more. More than you would ever be. 

--

6 Months Ago - A Bar in New York City

"You don't have to do this."

You bitterly chuckle. It was too late. You'd made up your mind. You gave yourself until the war against Thanos was won. You gave yourself that time to say your silent goodbyes, to memorize the one and only love you would ever allow yourself to have. You were selfish in that way.

Now was the time to save Sam while you still could, to finally set him free. Even if you had to break his heart to do it. You rest your hand on Bucky's chest, the furthest you could allow yourself to go without making your stomach turn. "Do what?"

Bucky's jaw ticks, "He's a good man."

"I know." It's the only time your voice reveals even an ounce of your pain. Your eyes flicker to over Bucky's shoulder. It's too late. Sam stands a few feet from you, watching you with anguish in his eyes. For good measure, you lean in closer, whispering in Bucky's ear, "But I never did well with sunshine."

"Can I talk to you outside?" Sam demands. 

You roll your eyes and snort, "If we have to."

"We do."

Sam doesn't waste a single moment. The second you step outside, he points back to the bar, "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding me? I saw you. You were all over him. He's my friend!"

"I was just having a little fun, Sam."

"A little fun?" Sam scoffs. "Are you kidding me?"

You don't allow a single ounce of remorse to show. You don't allow him to see the regret. Your face is purposely blank, cold and uncaring. You were good at this part. You were good at hurting people. It's exactly why you have to let him go. "I don't see what the big deal is, Sam."

"You don't see what the big deal is?" Sam's voice wavers. "You were just coming onto my friend! What about us?"

"What about us?" you scoff. "I was bored, Sam, we had our fun but it's done now. We're not on the run anymore. It's not a big deal."

"Just like that, we're just done?"

"You were there, Sam," you lie through your teeth. Acid churns in your stomach, rising up through your esophagus and coating your every word. "There's nothing more to it, nothing more to us."

You'd done a lot of bad things in your life, but nothing made you feel quite as wretched as watching Sam's heart shatter before you. It was better this way. He didn't know it, but it was for the best. You couldn't ruin his life anymore. You couldn't hurt him if you walked away right now. Those were the last words you ever said to him. 

--

He did it. He couldn't believe it. He'd found you. There you were, standing out on a rooftop, out in the pouring midnight rain. He almost laughs because of course you wouldn't even realize how theatrical this whole scene was. "Do you realize how dramatic it is to be standing out in the pouring rain all by yourself? And without an umbrella?"

"I'm working, Sam."

"Shooting your next romantic comedy? Is this the breakup scene?"

You don't even turn to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here, Sam.”

Sam scoffs, “That’s all you have to say? That I shouldn’t be here?”

“Go home, Sam," you demand. "I don’t want you here.”

“You’re such a jackass, you know that?”

It pisses him off that you still refuse to even look at him. If you were going to break his heart all over again, the least you could do was look him in the eye. You speak through clenched teeth, "I know."

He storms around, planting himself in front of you, forcing you to look at him. "No, I mean that, I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I mean that. You're such an asshole. You're one of the most difficult, abrasive, cold, and selfish people I've ever met."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You look just past him, mustering every ounce of your training to stay stone faced, "I know."

"Do you know how hard it was to find you?"

"I didn't ask you to come here," you spit at him. "I didn't want you to come looking for me. You knew that."

"And you're a liar!" Sam exclaims, a bitter laugh bubbling up from his chest. "A damned good one, too."

"I never lied to you about who or what I was."

"But you did lie, didn't you? You've lied to me before."

“Yes, I have," you softly admit. You catch yourself, reminding yourself of why you're being so harsh with Sam. You force yourself to speak with that venomous tone you know all too well, "Many times, so if you’re done insulting me, I have to go.”

"God, you're so selfish, and- and you're mean! You brood way too much. You're so fucking angsty all the time. You act like the tortured character in every shitty teen movie every made. You're inconsiderate. You don't listen. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. And sometimes - sometimes, I want to hate you so much."

It takes everything in you to sound as unaffected as you do. You quirk an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, "Is that why you came here? Because you're upset?"

"Upset?" Sam incredulously repeats, taking a step toward you. He's still several feet away from you, still far out of your reach, "No, I'm not upset. I was upset six months ago. Now, I'm angry. I'm pissed off - with you. I have never been so mad at another human being in my entire life."

"I didn't do anything to you. You knew who I was - who I am."

"You think that's why I'm pissed? I'm pissed because you made me like you. I'm pissed that you made me fall so hopelessly in love with you."

For the first time in six months, your eyes find his. His warm eyes, the ones that grounded you through storms of midnight rain. He'd never said he loved you before - there's no taking that back. You suck in a breath, "Sam."

"I'm pissed because I believed you when you said you were bored. But mostly, I'm pissed that I let you go, that I let you walk away without fighting for you."

You try to warn him, beg him to stop before he says something that'll make it too hard to walk away from him. "Sam."

"Because I'm in love with you."

Your voice wavers as you beg him, "Don't do this, Sam."

"I'm in love with you," Sam announces again to his audience of one. "And I know you don't think you're good for me. And I know that it won't be easy, but I am. I am in love with you. Every part of you. Especially the parts you don't like. I like that you're mean, I like that you're tougher than any other person I've ever met, I like that you're grumpy. I like that you don't see how dramatic it is to stand in the pouring rain all by yourself! I love you. I love all of you."

"Sam..." His name leaves your mouth in a whisper. It's too late. You're not strong enough to survive walking away from him. He's doomed himself.

He takes a step closer to you. "And maybe it wasn't real... but I think it was. I think you feel the same." And then another step. And yet another. Until you're face to face, close enough that you could reach out and touch him for the first time in months. The rain beats down on the two of you. The dampness on your cheeks has nothing to do with the rain. "Tell me that you don't love me and I'll leave. Tell me and I won't bother you again, I promise."

You can't. You can't bring yourself to say any of it. "Sam, it'll never work for us. You have to know that."

"We're not at war anymore." His hand skates across your cheek. "We don't have to hide. We don't have to run."

"I'm not - I'm not good, Sam." And you are, you want to say.

“No, no, you’re not good. You’re great. You’re amazing. And it’s a damn shame you haven’t stepped into the daylight long enough to see how incredible you are.”

You jerk your face away from his hand, “And what if I can’t give you what you want? What if I can’t be what you want?”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“You want a bride. You want someone to bring home to your family - that’s not me, Sam. I don’t think that’ll ever be me.”

“I want you." Sam takes your face in between both hands, begging you to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I want you in whatever way you’ll have me.”

“I’m not worth it," you softly exhale. "You have to know that I’m not worth the trouble and the heartache I’ll put you through.”

“Break my heart," Sam offers without hesitation. "Do it over and over again. Do it for the rest of our lives. It’s all yours. You’re worth it.”

“Sam…” You didn’t have any other defense. He’d broken down each and every argument you spent years cultivating. You didn’t know where to go from here.

“Do you love me?” Your lips press into a thin line, eyes squeezing shut to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling. The rain slows to a halt. His thumb and pointer finger grip your chin, forcing you to meet his warm brown eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I love you.” You don't think you've ever said those words before. You don't think you've ever seen the daylight until you saw him. It'll take time for your eyes to adjust, but he's worth it. "I love you so much it hurts, so much that I let you go."

“You don't have to let me go anymore. We'll figure the rest out together."

Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

Dating Sam Wilson Headcanons

Sam is perfection. He's the perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for.

He's kind, he's brave, he's absolutely in love with you, he knows how to take care of you.

People underestimate him. It's obvious, since he hangs out with super soldiers like Steve and Bucky, but you're very happy for Sam, your boyfriend. You love Sam for what he is, you appreciate his abilities honestly, and give him credit where it's due.

Sam pretends to be happy and confident all the time, but you can see beneath his charming exterior.

He has insecurities, has low confidence, and a lot of self-doubt. He's an Avenger, and a lot of things come with that. You always try to reassure him that what he's doing is enough, and that he's more than enough, sometimes it convinces him, sometimes it doesn't.

His love language is acts of service. He's the kind of person who'd do anything to reduce your work, and try his best to keep you stress-free and happy.

Sam likes to talk to you. He's always trying to make you laugh, and he bear it when you, the love of his life, is sad. He'll do anything to make you happy.

You have your highs and lows, and each time, he's there to support you.

Sam's great at giving a pep talk, since he was like a counselor to war veterans. But for you, he adds personal touch, and gives you real, useful advices instead of painting pictures in thin air.

You two watch a lot of movies together, and Sam spends a large time explaining to you how unrealistic the action scenes are. You bite your tongue every time and try not to remind him of the fact that he's an Avenger, and fights like that too.

People try to tell you that you can do better than Sam, or in exact words, 'why Sam Wilson? why didn't you go for Captain America or his hot friend?'. You get tired of telling people that it's Sam you love, and you don't have eyes for anyone else.

Sometimes, when Sam hears this, he gets upset. A part of him believes that you deserve far more than what he has to offer, but you dismiss his doubts by saying that it's him you love and him you want.

Your boyfriend is a hero not only for millions, but also for you. But his hero is you, his beloved partner.

Masterlist

[gemstone-roses]

A song so sinful

Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

summary: Sambucky tells you how good you are for them. Can be read as part of the 'good girl' fic world but also on its own. Kinda threesome? But There's no DP here sorry!

You can read my other two fics which exist in the same universe as this but there is no need to read them before this, here.

Warnings: smut, Lots of praise, like sooo much 🙌. This is so incredibly filthy I don't know what to say to be honest. Overstimulation, spit kink,? Breast/nipple play. Praise, unprotected sex! Pet names, Mentions of squirting at the end. NSFW minors be fucking gone from here I swear!

There shall be another, where Sam makes the reader squirt.

Note: it has been a while, sorry! be kind! Likes reblogs and comments are much appreciated thankyou 🥺🥺 remember I am not responsible for your media consumption if this is not your jam then do not click the read more!

"God your taking me so well, isn't our girl taking me so well Sam?" Bucky croons, thrusting his cock into your soaked pussy.

You choke out a moan, the two men going back and forth while one of them has their cock stuffed in you and the other is stroking your face so gently has you almost seeing stars instantly.

Your lay on your back in between Sam's legs, his long fingers cup your face as he praises you

"You are, taking him so well baby, so good for us" Sam agrees, swiping his finger across your lip before pushing it between your lips.

You swirl your tongue around his finger, drool dripping down your chin onto your bare chest, coupled with the sounds from bucky pushing into you makes Sam throw his head back, moaning.

"Your so fucking beautiful" Sam says, removing his fingers to trail down to your breasts, a line of saliva followed his finger from your mouth, Sam swipes his finger over your nipple, causing you to push off the bed slightly.

Bucky has slowed down slightly, thrusting in and out of you lazily as he watches Sam toy with your nipples.

Sam rolls it between his fingers, pinching at the same time, your walls clench around buckys cock as he does.

"Mm, your so responsive baby" Sam whispers, leaning forward to spit on your erect nipple.

"m fuck" you choke out, gripping the sheets.

"So good for us honey", Sam's deep voice soothes you as your mind begins to cloud with the amount of pleasure

"I think she's close, buck"

"Are you doll? Are you gonna cum for us?" Bucky asks, he angles his hips differently and brings his metal hand to toy with your swollen clit

"Fuck doll, your just divine" Bucky mumbles

You arch even further off the bed, whining, the coil inside you almost ready to snap

"sh baby it's okay, we got you" Sam says as he softly pulls at both your nipples

"Please" you moan, Buckys finger moves so slowly around your puffy clit, his other hand comes to press on your lower stomach, and bucky feels your walls clench his cock tighter

"Doll your pussys gripping me so good, you feel amazing wrapped around my cock"

"Ohmygod" you breathe, his actions and his words push you over the edge, waves and waves of pleasure roll over you, stars dot your vision as your eyes fall shut

"Eyes on me honey, your face is so pretty when you come, that's it, good girl, come for us baby, " Sam encourages, his hands gently caressing your face as bucky continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

"Good girl, good fucking girl" Bucky growls, spilling inside you.

Sam continues to stroke your face while you come round. Bucky is in the bathroom getting a warm cloth and a cold drink for you.

"You did so good for us baby, so fucking good" he presses a kiss to your forehead before wrapping you in his arms.

You feel the bed dip as bucky begins cleaning you up. His free hand gently rubs your leg, they both know how comforting you find little touches like that.

You smile as Sam holds you tighter, he leans in and nips at the skin between your shoulder and neck.

"You know how you mentioned you wanted to experience squirting?" Sam whispers, his warm breath making goosebumps rise over your skin

"Mm" you say

"why don't we give it a try, after some food and a movie?" He nips at your neck once more, waiting.

You remember how you shyly brought up you'd never done it, and the two men in front of you shared a look, something brewing behind their eyes.

You'd wrapped your arms around your knees, embarrassed and Sam had to coax you out with assurances it was nothing to be embarrassed about and how they would be honored to be the ones who made it happen for you.

"yes" you breathe out, your pussy beginning to throb again at the thought.

"Mm" he moans into your ear,

"I can't wait to have you drench my fingers and cock" he adds.

[lunarbuck]

Kinktober Week 1: Phone Sex

header: @jen-with-a-pen

Pairing: Sam Wilson x f!reader (any race)

Word Count: 692

Prompt: Phone Sex

Warnings: phone sex, swearing, masturbation, pet names [baby, sweetheart]

my masterlist | kinktober masterlist | @lunarbucklibrary

Your phone rings, and you look around on the bed for the offending device. You try to have at least two hours of screen-free time a day, and today, you’ve spent that time reading. Your book rests against your chest as you see Sam’s photo flash on your screen. 

“Hello,” you grin. When Sam is off on a mission, he rarely has time to call, so you relish each opportunity to hear his voice.

“Hey, cutie, what’re you up to?” You can hear the roar of an engine in the background. He probably just got off the jet. Heat blooms in your chest, knowing that his first thought was to call you.

“Trying and failing to curb my screen addiction, what about you?” Sam laughs, the sound warm despite some distortion from the speaker. 

“Just thinkin’ about my girl.” You don’t miss the slight rasp in his voice, the way he practically growls the words. That heat in your chest migrates, warming you all the way to your belly. You press your thighs together, giving your clit the slightest bit of friction.

“Yeah? What about me?” Through the phone, you can hear Sam’s footsteps pick up speed before a door slams shut. His breaths come out ragged and rushed. He’s just as worked up as you are. Your book slides off your chest, falling shut, but you barely even notice.

“Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” A smile tugs at your lips while you trail your fingers down your body underneath the blanket. “I’m thinking about your perfect body, your soft skin. The way you fit so perfectly against me.” You trace the band of your sleep shorts, gently teasing yourself the way Sam always does. It’s not quite the same, but with the rasp of his voice in your ear, you can almost imagine that he’s here.

“I wish you were here,” you whisper, dipping your fingers into your shorts to slide over the fabric of your panties. 

“Me too, baby. I’m so fucking hard right now. I love the way you suck my cock. Love how you look with my dick in your mouth, so fucking beautiful.” You hear the snick of a zipper on the other end and shuffle your shorts down your legs. “Are you gonna touch yourself, baby? You gonna make yourself feel good until I get home?”

You whimper in response, circling your clit with your finger.

“Such a good girl for me, sweetie. If I were there, you know I’d be in between your legs, eating that perfect pussy of yours. I’d slide my fingers inside and warm you up for my cock just the way you like.” Your fingers follow your imagination, pressing inside your warm entrance. They’re not as big as Sam’s, but you still moan when you hit those spots.

“You sound so beautiful, baby. Keep fucking yourself on your fingers, just like that. I’m aching for you, sweetheart.” Your fingers are slick as they slide in and out of your pussy, but you want more. You manage to hit the speaker button and position your phone on your pillow to free up your other hand. You circle your clit while you fuck yourself, the sensations slowly working you toward your orgasm.

“Sam, I need you,” you moan, wishing it was his cock filling you, stretching you. You wish he was here, pressing you down into the mattress with his big, calloused hands. You wish you were grabbing onto his muscular shoulders, hanging onto him for dear life.

“I need you too, baby. I need you to come for me, please, baby. Need to hear you come.” You apply more pressure to your clit, imagining it’s Sam, and you screw your eyes shut. His cologne lingers on the pillow, and you inhale deeply as your orgasm barrels toward you.

You come moaning his name, electricity shooting through your body. Sam follows close behind, rasping your name as he comes. You suck in deep breaths and go limp against the mattress. 

“Shit,” you giggle, smiling to yourself. “Somehow, I miss you even more now.”

“I’ll be home soon, baby. Promise.”

i am discontinuing my taglist. please follow @lunarbucklibrary and turn on notifications to be notified when i post new writing. must be 18+

[wwilsonbarness]

don't tell my boyfriend, it's not what he's made for

pairings:  sam wilson x reader

summary: you try hide your bad days from Sam but he knows you too well. (Based on What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish.)

warnings: depression, mention of bad relationship with parents, angst, fluff, sam being the best boyfriend. I think that's it?

word count: 1559

a/n: my first Sam fic YAY! 

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

It’s been 3 days since you last saw Sam, not because he was on a mission or fighting a giant purple-thumb looking alien but because you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see you the way you are right now. 

Things had been tough since you graduated college, you had your degree, you’d done everything your parents had asked of you, but you’d never really done anything that you wanted. Your parents didn’t seem to care what you did now, you’d gotten your degree, you’d moved to the city, you’d got away. They’d “done their job” they told you, but what were you meant to do now.

That’s what has been on your mind the last few months and all the stress has finally caught up with you. You weren’t leaving the house, you were hardly eating, you hadn’t seen your friends in weeks. Then there was Sam, you’d been pretending to be okay around him, and it was killing you. You couldn’t do it anymore so you’d been avoiding him, first not going to his apartment, then cancelling plans, and now avoiding his text messages. It only made you feel worse but you couldn’t let him see you this way. He’d probably break up with me. 

You had bags under your eyes from the 2 hours of sleep you were getting each night, your eyes were red and irritated by the countless tears that had fallen from them. You hadn’t showered since you last saw Sam and that was only because he surprised you with a picnic in the park. 

You’d tried to enjoy that day but all you wanted was to lay in bed and cry, to forget about everything else. But more than anything you wanted Sam, wanted him to hold you, to tell you everything would work out, but that couldn’t happen. You couldn’t have him realise what a mess you were, you couldn’t risk him leaving you. 

So that’s how you ended up here, curled up into a ball in the dark on your sofa, crying quietly into your blanket and ignoring the feeling of a slight buzz from your phone beside you. You didn’t know who it was and quite frankly at this point you didn’t care. It had been like this since you woke up, you have no idea how long it’s been, and you had no intention of finding out. That would make you feel worse, knowing you’d wasted another day. You had no intention of moving at all, and that didn’t change when you heard a knock at your door. Just leave it, they’ll go away soon. But they didn’t, they kept knocking and knocking, until Sam’s voice came through the hard wood. His warm and gentle voice being the only thing breaking your almost comatose state. 

“Y/N? I know you’re in there, please I just need to see that you are okay. Please?” You felt your heart break as his voice cracked with his last word.

You freeze at first, not knowing what to do. If you didn’t answer you were 90% sure he would kick your door down. So you did the only thing you could do and walked slowly towards the door, cracking it open slightly, not even removing the chain. 

His head fly’s up from the spot he was staring at on the ground when he hears your door creak open. 

“Hi Sam.” 

“Y/N,” He goes to push the door open only to be met with the resistance of the chain. “Can you open the door properly? Please?” 

You don’t really want to let him into your depressive bubble but at the same time you wanted him, his warmth against your skin, the smell of his cologne that always made you feel safe. So you nod slightly and remove the chain. 

He immediately steps in and pulls you towards him. Your head finds its usual spot against his chest and his warmth seeps into you which instantly makes you feel a little bit lighter. 

“Thank god.” Sam sighs in relief as he wraps his arms around you, bringing his left hand up to the back of your head to cup it slightly. “I thought something had happened to you when you didn’t answer your phone all day, I was so worried about you baby.” 

All day? You had no clue that much time had passed, and now you were angry at yourself for worrying Sam, he doesn’t deserve all this. He deserves someone better. 

You start to feel your eyes burning as more tears threaten their escape. “I’m sorry Sammy.” 

“Hey, none of that, okay? You wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

Sam had kind of guessed what was happening, sure he mostly had experience working with Vets with PTSD, but he definitely knew the tell tale signs of depression. So when you started to pull away, and started acting not quite like yourself he had made sure to clear his schedule as much as he could to be there for you.

“I.. I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay baby. Can I stay with you for a bit?” 

You shake your head against his chest and start to pull away from him as it hits you how you look, how your apartment looks. Panic starts to overtake every other emotion already running though you. “Oh my god. The mess and I haven’t even- I look so gross and I didn’t-“ 

Sam cuts you off before you can spiral more. “Hey, take a breath. It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay, nothing is okay anymore.” He guides you to the sofa gently and sits beside you, slightly turning himself in your direction. 

“Try and breathe for me, okay? In and out. Copy me.” You try to listen and copy his breathing. “That’s it, good girl. You're doing such a good job baby.” 

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” He replies, with a hint of confusion. 

You shake your head before continuing. “No, I don’t want to burden you Sam. You can leave if you want to, I’d understand.” You were so sure he’d leave, there was no way he could want to stay with you now. Right? Deep down you knew your brain was lying to you but you didn’t have it in you to fight what it was so easily telling you. 

“Baby,” He looks at you with pure concern and love in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, you can tell me what’s wrong, you can tell me anything.” 

You look down and start to play with your sleeves before you answer him. “It’s not what you’re made for, you don’t deserve to have to pick up all the pieces everytime I fall apart. You deserve someone who’s happy, and I…” You pause to try and figure out how to say what you are feeling. “I think I forgot how to be happy.” It comes out as an almost whisper, in fear of it chasing him away. 

Sam’s heart breaks hearing how you are feeling, he’s never felt this much love for someone or something before and wants nothing more than for you to be okay. He needs you to know how much you mean to him. 

“Y/N, look at me?” You shakily bring your eyes back up to him. “That’s exactly what I was made for, you’re everything to me and I want to help you in any way that I can. Who was there when I beat myself up for Karli’s death? You. Who picked me back up again when I worked myself too hard? You did. So please, let me help you. Let me in. I will be here to pick up every little piece of you for as long as you will have me.” 

The tears had managed to find an escape route now, and were freely rolling down your cheeks. You knew Sam loved you, he’d told you every chance he got and you hated that your brain could convince you otherwise.

“I love you Sam.” He brings his lips to your forehead and places a gentle kiss. 

“And I love you too, so much, and whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here to listen, okay?” 

“Okay..” You weren’t ready to talk yet, you just wanted him. “Could you just hold me for now?” 

“Of course, anything you want.” 

He lays back on the sofa and brings you into his lap. Your head finds its place in his chest again, seeking his warmth. Things were silent for a few moments, each of you soaking up the feeling of being close with one another, until your stomach rumbling broke the silence. 

“Baby?” he asks gently but concerned. 

“Hmm?” You know where this is going but you try to play innocent. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” You shake your head in embarrassment that you hadn’t managed to do that.

“Want me to order something in?” You nod against him. “The usual?” 

“‘Mhmm. Can you get some of the-“ 

“Chocolate dumplings.” You say together which makes you both laugh, your first real laugh in a while and it feels nice. 

“How could I not?” Sam says as he playfully rolls his eyes. “But until there’s a knock at the door I’m not letting go of you.” He squeezes you extra tight to show you he’s not kidding. 

[late-to-the-party-81]

A Court of Screens and Squishmallows

AN: So back earlier in the year, when I had my 1.5k follower event, you all voted for a third part to the CamBoy Sam story, meaning it becomes a series. With other challenges, plus a case of writer’s block, this took a lot longer to get to than planned, but better late than never.

This is also dedicated to my babies, @mrs-elsie-barnes and @christywrites.

Please feel free to send asks about Camboy Sam and Squishy.

Unbeta’d but thank you to @endlesstwanted for letting me bounce ideas.

Moodboard by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you would like to be on my tag list, then please click here

Master List | Series Master List 

Summary: Part of your and Sam’s relationship is you helping him plan his live streams and then watching them on your laptop in real time. This time, you got to plan his entire outfit, and if it happens to be based on your favourite book boyfriend you can be forgiven for being a little excited…

Relationship: CamBoy! Sam Wilson x Room Mate! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: Explicit Sexual Content (Masturbation, M & F), Implied Sexual Content, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Domestic Fluff, Banter, Established relationship, Sam Wilson is a hedonist, Fantasies.

It’s not as though you’d been a shy, retiring virgin when you met and got together with Sam - far from it - but since being with him you’d definitely had your eyes opened to how boring and mediocre sex had been in your previous relationships. And while, yes, sex wasn’t the be all and end all of a relationship, that early relationship spark - that initial burst of lust - was still burning brightly. That fire, first stoked into life in a dingy nightclub as you watched a sexy camboy gyrate and pleasure himself through your friend’s phone screen, still licked under your skin every time Sam smiled at you, that mischievous twinkle in eye. Together you’d explored so many facets of your own sexuality that you’d never even considered.

You’d never pegged yourself as a voyeur, but yet, twice a week, you devoured Sam’s exhibitionist performances from your shared room despite him being just down the hall in his studio - his old bedroom. And speaking of pegging… there was something you’d never imagined yourself doing either, but you rather enjoyed it, reducing Sam to a whimpering, wrung out mess. Mirrors were also good. And toys. So many toys. You adored how Sam wasn’t intimidated by the use of toys, seeing them as tools to help enhance and prolong pleasure and not as any kind of comment on his masculinity.

The only downside to your relationship was having to move your beloved Squishmallow collection to the lounge - there was no way you could do the dirty with them staring at you with their innocent little eyes.

As you shut the apartment door behind you, and made your way to the bathroom to wash off the day leaving a trail of clothes in your wake, you couldn’t help but smile as you remember Sam’s joy on the delivery of the last package of items he’d ordered from the adult store. Most of the contents had been for his shows, thongs, strokers and vibes, but he’d slipped in a couple of extras and had wasted no time in riling you up so he could use them on you, over and over until you’d had to tap out. You’d had to explain away your aches and pains as overexertion from a gym session to your work colleagues the following day. From the grins thrown your way, you weren’t sure they’d been convinced.

The hot water from the shower head washed over your body, soothing the stress that only came from participating in meetings that could have been emails, and you reached for your washcloth and favourite shower gel. The gentle, delicate scent filled the bathroom and you hummed a random tune to yourself. It was Friday night and Sam had one of his scheduled live-streams. He’d be done by 9.30pm and then he’d be all yours for the weekend and you couldn’t wait. Tomorrow you had a day out planned - a morning at the farmer’s market and then an afternoon’s walk through the hills with a picnic made from their purchases. Sunday would probably be a combination of lazy and domestic, because unfortunately there were always chores to do. You were hoping to persuade Sam to do the laundry if you offered to go grocery shopping and you weren’t above pulling out a few sexual bribes if you had to. You hated laundry - you and the washer just didn’t get on and the less said about the drier the better.

First, however, there was this evening, and as you walked through to your bedroom, your towel wrapped tight around your body, you thought about all the preparations that needed to be made. You’d already planned a light supper that wouldn’t fill him up too much, and as you were home first, you’d boot up his computer and check the camera connection. Luckily, as the room was now his full time studio and didn’t have to do double duty as a sleeping space, he’d been able to set up the backdrop, set dressing, camera and lights last night. You just needed to grab your own laptop so you could watch the show play out. Maybe you’d get out a toy or two just to help yourself along until Sam finished and came to join you. 

That was always your favourite part of a streaming night - watching your man perform and display himself for the lustful eyes of his subscribers, knowing that when the camera turned off it was your bed he came to. Your body that his wrapped around. The pair of you knew each other inside and out, forward, backward and upside down, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Caught up in your musings, you didn’t register Sam’s return until his spandex covered, slightly sweaty body plastered itself to your back. “Eeewww,” you squealed and you fought your way out of his loose grip as he chuckled in your ear. Unfortunately, your towel didn’t survive the struggle and you let out a huff of amused frustration as it landed on the floor with a soft thump.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Sam joked. “I just appear and your clothes just fall off. It’s a superpower.” 

So cocky, you thought. Good thing he’s sexy as hell. You still rolled your eyes at him before purposefully turning and bending over to pick the errant fluffy cotton up from the ground. You heard his strangled groan and smiled to yourself.

“Squishy. Fuck. Why you gotta do that to me? Maybe I should sack off the stream and just take you to bed right now?” As you straightened and turned back, he took a step toward you. However, you held up your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Nuh-uh, buster. First off, you are sticky and gross and need your own shower. Secondly, if I don’t get to see you in that outfit and get my voyeurism fix, then I won’t be happy.”

Sam smiled back slyly and gripped the hem of his cycling top. With a sway in his hips, a move you recognised only too well, he slowly pulled the skin tight fabric up. As he bared his torso, he rolled his abs, and despite your best intentions you couldn’t draw your gaze away. Which meant you didn’t see the balled up, sweaty top making its way towards you until it hit you in the face.

Your affronted shout was just met with a hearty belly laugh as your boyfriend shed his clothes across the floor as he took himself for his own ablutions. “You’re lucky I love your dumb ass,” you shouted at his departing, and frankly disgustingly attractive, posterior. Sam just flipped you the bird and you snorted. Fuck, you loved him so much it was nauseating.

Slipping into a lacy bralet with matching panties, you left the bedroom and made your way to the studio. The backdrop, made to look like stone walls that you’d find in a castle in Europe, hung from the back wall, and in front of it a large chair that the pair of you had worked on to make it resemble a throne. You could also see the zipped garment bag, an unusual bulge to it indicating that it wasn’t just a suit inside. You really hoped your vision had come together as well as you imagined it. You smiled, just thinking about what was to come, and crossed over to the computer with a swing in your step. Once you’d powered it up, you switched on the lights that were already aimed at the ‘stage’. Satisfied that you’d done as much as you could to help Sam prepare, you made your way into the kitchen.

After taking all of your dinner ingredients out of the fridge, you decided to make you both a cup of tea as well. You put the kettle on the stove and then reached down your mugs from the cupboard, unable to keep the soft smile from your face as you did so. Your fingers traced over the handle of Sam’s mug, the silly approximation of a bicycle being the thing that made you realise what had been  - literally - in front of you.

When Sam hugged you behind this time, it was a far more pleasant and welcome experience. The clean smell of his own shower gel surrounded you as much as the man himself did. Yes, his skin was still damp, but as it was with water and not sweat, so you didn’t mind. 

“You looking forward to tonight then, baby?” His voice was a deep purr in your ear and your core clenched in response to his laden words. Somehow you managed to drag yourself from his embrace, shooting him a smile over your shoulder as you went to pour the hot water into your mugs.

“I always look forward to your streams.”

“But this is the first one where you a hundred percent picked the outfit.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been totally mean not letting me see it all put together.” You handed him his drink and looked at him, still a little in awe of his beauty as he leant against the side of the island, with droplets of water still dotted over his skin and only a small, white towel wrapped around his waist.

“Can you blame me for wanting to make an impact,” he responded, right eyebrow slightly raised.

You leant forward, pressing your lips against his softly, tasting the camomille lingering on them. “I thought it was my turn with the paddle,” you teased and enjoyed the brief moment of satisfaction as Sam’s eyes went large before he started to chuckle. 

“Whatever you want, Squishy. You know it’s all good to me.”

You adored the way the two of you could tease and joke with each other. “Hhmm, I’ll keep that in mind for later on then. But for now,” you pushed a plate across the island toward him, “you need to eat so you have enough energy for what I’m gonna want to put you through after your stream finishes.”

With a grin splitting his face, Sam saluted you before picking up the plate of cajun chicken salad. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be ready for action, ma’am.” He sauntered - fucking sauntered - over to the couch and placed his mug on the coffee table. He also spread his legs, letting his towel fall open and giving you a glimpse of everything going on under there, absolutely paying you back for your earlier teasing. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, then picked up your own plate and went to join him.

As the pair of you ate and drank, you shot the shit about your respective days and your plans for the following day.

“Ooo,” Sam exclaimed, “do you think they’ll have those little pastries again? The ones with the sour cherries and the vanilla cream stuff?”

“Creme patissiére? I hope so. They were so delicious last time. But I want some of the sour-dough bread, and the goat’s cheese. And the onion relish…”

Sam laughed at your enraptured food based ramblings. “I’ll make sure to go past the ATM on the way, shall I?” You elbowed him and stuck out your tongue, eliciting more laughter. Eventually though, 7pm rolled around and Sam excused himself with a soft lingering kiss that left your fingers and toes tingling with anticipation.

As he went into his studio, you busied yourself by tidying up after your meal, and preparing a snack platter for later on - you were both likely to be peckish after you’d worn yourselves out. Then you had to retrieve all of your strewn clothes and move them to the washer. Why either of you had thought that undressing as you walked was a good idea, you didn’t know. With the chores done, you returned to your bedroom, with five minutes to spare - just enough time to switch on your own laptop and load up Sam’s subscriber page. As the wait screen with its countdown timer appeared, you settled on the bed and drew your trusty vibrator out from the drawer at the side of the bed.

Then it was show time.

The backdrop and throne appeared in front of you, with some old-timey, almost ‘Ren Faire’ like, music playing in the background, but your attention was quickly diverted when you caught sight of part of Sam’s costume making its way into shot. Black leather arched into view, pulled taught and shaped like a giant bat’s wing. You squeezed your thighs together and leant a little closer to the screen. As Sam himself moved into frame, you let out an involuntary whimper. Black leather pants were moulded to his legs, ass and crotch - there was no hiding what was going on down there - and his upper body was encased in a black, lace necked shirt. The cord was loose, leaving the shirt wide open, giving a frankly scandalous view of the upper curves of his pecs and the sleeves - oh god, the sleeves! - were rolled up to just before his elbows. Over the shirt was a leather harness, with shiny chrome buckles and other decorative elements. That’s what the fake wings were attached to, but it still made a statement. A leather effect half mask covered Sam’s face from the nose up, however his eyes still glittered out of it like dark precious gems that, even through the camera, seemed to shine a light on the very essence of your soul. He’d even gone as far to attach fake ear tips, giving him an even more other-worldy appearance. He looked like every wet dream you’d ever had.

“There you are, little mortal…”

You almost combusted at his dark tone, but Sam acted as though it was nothing and reached out to the side to bring a goblet into the shot with him. He took a slow drink, never drawing his eyes away from the camera. His strong fingers, covered in rings, gripped the metal neck of the drinking vessel, and when he pulled it away from his mouth, the sheen of red wine could be seen on his lips. His tongue poked out, wiping away the residue and from your bed your breath hitched with need. He hadn’t said anything, but the power in his stance - his demeanor - had you flooding your panties. 

He placed the goblet down, just out of view, and trailed one beringed hand down his shirt, the light reflecting off the jewellery, a poor mimic of the sparkle that was in his eyes. His long fingers grazed over the bulge in his pants and you saw his cock twitch under the restriction of the material. He did it again, a moan leaving his lips and his eyelids fluttering. Without really thinking about it, you picked up your vibe, turning it onto its lowest setting, and began tracing it over your damp underwear. Sam’s hands moved to his belt, and he deftly unbuckled it before pulling out of the loops quickly with one hand. You pressed the vibe against yourself more firmly. 

There was a soft thunk as the belt dropped to the floor and Sam gave a predatory smile to the camera as he unbuttoned his fly. There was enough of a view of his skin and the hair of his happy trail to make it clear he had no underwear on. You watched as he slid his hand inside, cupping himself. He prolonged the eye contact as he stroked himself, teasing you - and his audience - with brief glimpses of the head of his cock.

He picked up the goblet once again and walked backwards until he reached the ‘throne’, whereupon he sat upon it insouciantly, lounging against its tall back. You wondered what he was thinking about as he put on his show. Was he imagining you standing in front of him, putting on some display of your own for his idle pleasure? He took another drink of wine then lazily pulled his cock from his pants. He stroked it slowly, from root to tip and back up again. From the sheen you could tell he’d lubed his cock up before he started, and you wished he was here right now, so you could take him in your mouth. Instead you just moved your vibe inside your panties.

“Join me,” he entreated with a purr, encouraging you to touch yourself even more.

This stream was so unlike Sam’s previous one. In those he’d been obviously performing - every move was calculated to titillate , but this was different. It was as though he was the viewer, watching his hundreds of fans touching themselves in the hope of being touched by him in return. He groaned and closed his eyes again, pleasuring himself with a firmer grip and a twist to his wrist. He was the epitome of a ruler - a High Lord or a General - who did as he pleased. The dominant aura he exuded was heady, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that was something the pair you should explore further.

Jolts of pleasure arced through you as you pinched and rolled at your nipples. It was getting more difficult to hold yourself back as you watched Sam ‘watching’ you. And then he spoke again.

“That’s it, darling. Just like that. I love watching you touch yourself for me.”

Fuck! It wasn’t that dirty talk was alien to the pair of you - you’d indulged in it on numerous occasions, but the outfit, his demeanor. Was this awakening something within you?

“Keep going, sweetheart. Show me how pretty you look. I bet you wish I was touching you back.” 

Your breathing picked up and your skin was clammy. You were so close - closer than you normally got while watching him. Your vibrator slid effortlessly through your folds, nudging your engorged clit with each pass as you watched Sam pleasure himself. You had the fleeting thought about whether his other subscribers felt the intimacy in this, but quickly returned to thoughts of your own pleasure and how, soon, Sam would be in this room, kissing you. Touching you. Fucking you.

You came. Your body tensed and tingles shot up and down your body from head to toe. Somehow though, over your own cries of release, you heard the soft grunt that Sam reserved for his on-screen orgasms. He was still regarding you through the camera lens, his milky spend splattering over the leather of his pants and his lower lip looking especially plush - he must have bitten it when he came.

Sam took a deep gulp from his goblet, before tucking himself back into his pants, although he didn’t fasten them. Then, somehow not trembling with the aftershocks of his pleasure, he rose to his feet and stalked back toward the camera.

“Thank you, darling,” he said in a low voice. “I enjoyed that.” And that was that. He walked off out of frame and the screen went dark.

“Fuck me,” you muttered under your breath and tried to regain some of your equilibrium. If he was that hot from the other side of your apartment, what was going to be like in a few minutes when he appeared in the room? Speaking of which…

You somehow managed to move your laptop onto the floor just as you heard footsteps coming down the hall, accompanied by the unusual sounds of something bouncing off the walls and Sam’s soft curses. “Goddamn wings. Too fucking wide.” You giggled. Somehow this was both unserious and sexy at the same time.

The door to your room burst open and Sam - turned sideways - walked through. How was he hotter-looking in the flesh? His wings swept out behind him, partially blocking out the light from the hallway and making him seem even more imposing. You were glad he’d ditched the mask though - you loved seeing his full facial expressions.

You reclined on the bed with a coy smile, leaning back on your elbows. “Very Illyrian coded,” you purred. 

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” Sam stepped closer, looming over you, and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. He bent forward and rested his hands on the mattress either side of your legs.

“I did. Very much, my Lord.” You hoped you weren’t overdoing the coquettishness, but it wasn’t every day that you managed to convince your real boyfriend to dress up like one of your book boyfriends, and you planned to wring every last bit of enjoyment from it.

“What do you think about my big… wingspan?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you couldn’t hold back your giggle at the silly double entendre.

“It provided a lot of… stimulation,” you countered and he smiled broadly at you.

“Well I hope you didn’t wear yourself out too much. I’m not done with you yet, mortal” He dropped to his knees and you peered down at him owlishly, before letting out a shriek, part surprise and part excitement, as Sam grabbed your ankles and yanked you towards him. As his tongue started to trace over your lace covered core, the leather of his wings brushed tantalisingly over your knee, and your last coherent thought was whether he’d be up for fucking you against the wall as you held onto his harness…

Tag list: @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds,

@apenny4thots, @king814318

@km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 12

@flufftober

Prompt(s): "This is Spooky." | "Really?"

Pairing: Sam Wilson x gn!Reader

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, discussions of kids/wanting kids, innuendo, flirting

FYI: Even though no gender is mentioned (and I tried to keep it as neutral as possible) this reader is more female leaning!

Summary: Sam and reader go trick or treating with Sarah’s kids and it leads to some sweet discussions about kids.

Word count: 758 words

A/N: I know I'm behind on the other challenge but I'm in my home country next week for my birthday so I'm trying to schedule everything so I can chill! 🥹 Hoping to get caught up tomorrow!!

Prev | Next | Masterlist

“This is Spooky.”

“Really?”

Your boyfriend looks over at you with a nonplussed expression. The house before definitely does not fall under Spooky category. There’s a few decorations in the yard and by a few it’s one Styrofoam grave with a skeleton sticking out of the dirt in front of it.

You grin over at Sam and give him a small nudge with your elbow, muttering “It’s for the kids.”

“Oh – oh. Yeah. Real spooky.” He says it through gritted teeth, beaming a smile and waving over at his nephews, who are returning from the not-spooky house with their candy bags just a tad fuller.

Their costumes were incredibly adorable. AJ was dressed as Captain America, complete with a cowl and plastic shield and Cass was dressed as some cartoon character you couldn't name. Seeing them dressed up and excitable with Halloween spirit made your heart melt. When Sarah had asked Sam (and by extension you) to take them trick-or-treating whilst she picked up an extra shift, you'd jumped at the chance to spend time with them.

However, seeing all of the young kids in their costumes (and after one particularly fat baby dressed as a pumpkin) you were beginning to feel... something. You couldn't quite pinpoint the feeling; you were ecstatic at the playing and laughter, the dressing up and how cute all the kids were. But there was an ache in your chest that nagged at you; moreso when a family trio walked by hand in hand, all three dressed for treats and trickery.

“Look Y/N!” Cass said excitedly, running towards you with his bag open. “Mrs. Brights gave us Reese’s Pieces!”

“Oh wow!” you respond enthusiastically, leaning closer to inspect the bag. You give Cass a big grin. “Must be because of how awesome you look, kiddo.”

Cass blushes and rushes to join his brother at the next house. You straighten with a sigh and watch from the end of the driveway next to Sam, who’s eyeing you curiously.

“What’s up with you?” He asks, keeping his eyes on his nephews.

“Huh?” you bluster and clear your throat. “Nothing.”

“Don’t nothing me.” Sam’s eyes narrow over to you, but he’s grinning. “You’ve been off all evening. Spill.”

“Its just...” You shift nervously on your feet. You hadn’t expected to have this conversation tonight. A pit of nerves twist anxiously in your stomach and a cold sweat inches down your spine. “Seeing that fat baby really got to me.”

Sam bursts a laugh. “He was pretty chubby.”

Silence falls as the kids come back and you walk briefly to the next house on the lot. Once they’re out of earshot, Sam continues.

“But that doesn’t explain the look you have.”

“What look?” You frown, annoyed your own face had betrayed your emotions so readily.

“I don’t know like.... almost sad. What’s that all about, honey?” Sam’s voice drops to a comforting whisper, a large hand rubbing small circles on your back.

"I uh.... just want one." You say nervously, trying extremely hard to say nonchalant. Sam almost trips at your words and looks at you wide-eyed.

"You.. want one?" He repeats and you're blushing furiously now. Oh God. You're brain panics until Sam continues with, "Like... right now?"

Your burst into giggles and Sam is red-faced with embarrassment. However, his nephews return and demand you both take them to the next block before you can continue your conversation.

"Not now now," You whisper when the kids are out of earshot. "But one day."

Sam clears his throat, adjust his shoulders. "Ah. Gotcha. I, um, - " He flashes you a playful grin. "Would like a fat little pumpkin baby too."

You smirk at him, quirking an eyebrow. Your heart feels a lot lighter than it did earlier. "Just the one?"

Sam shrugs but there's the mischievous glint in his eyes that you love so much. "Maybe a whole patch."

"Samuel," You hiss at him, nudging him with a grin.

"What are you two talking about?" AJ asks, scowling at you both. You hadn't realised they'd finished and thankfully only caught the tail end of your conversation.

"Pumpkins." Comes the unified answer and the matching look of sheepishness.

"Come on boys, we have one street left." You say, ushering them up the street, hand in hand with Sam. When the boys have run up the drive way, Sam pecks your cheek sweetly and you link your arms with his; cuddling closer with a warm, fuzzy feeling as you watch the boys get their final round of candy.

[aquaticmercy]

Aquaticmercy’s General Masterlist

I write about MCU / Marvel Comics characters.

I have written for Bucky Barnes, Agatha Harkness, and Sam Wilson.

I have WIPs for Yelena Belova, Carol Danvers, and Natasha Romanoff.

My stories may have adult themes. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Bucky Barnes

One Shots

Beautiful Mess

Bucky tries to cook you a food you’ve been craving. It goes wrong, but it also goes right.

Almost Kisses

Bucky's kisses have become a daily part of your life together, but it wasn’t always that way.

All These Things That I've Done

In which Bucky leaves behind a loving note every time he goes on a mission. But what happens when you stumble on a letter not meant to be found… yet?

In Another Life

Bucky is certain you only see him as a friend. It only took him travelling to a different reality to realise otherwise.

Comfortable and Easy

You are the only person Bucky could ever spend a domestic evening with.

Bloodstains and Daydreams

You and Bucky fantasize about starting a family while tending to each other’s wounds.

Under my Skin

Bucky is always ready to give his girl cuddles.

Hot Chocolate?

Bucky wakes up from a nightmare and can’t find you.

Do Humans Dream of Normal Sheep?

Generations ago, your family was cursed to never sleep. Now that the curse is broken, Bucky helps you rest by telling you a bedtime story.

Of Black Ink and White Lillies

Bucky wants to get a tattoo, so he asks you for advice.

Morning Coffee

A drabble in which he makes you coffee every morning, without fail.

The Great Wave

Bucky would do anything to make his girl happy. He would even risk his life to get you the perfect gift.

Altar Ghosts

While on a mission with Bucky Barnes, you’re forced to confront your ex-fiancé, who left you at the altar. Bucky helps you realize you deserve far better than the man who broke your heart.

Happily Ever Eventually

Sam and Yelena are helping you and Bucky plan your wedding. 

Love in Full Bloom

Bucky thinks everything he touches dies, but the plants in your apartment prove otherwise.

Dangerous Game

Bucky Barnes is dating a trigger-happy antihero, and she has him wrapped around her finger. She’s just Bucky’s pretty girl, and he lets her get away with everything.

Temple

Bucky Barnes is struggling to say ‘I love you,’ so he says other things to make sure you know he cares.

Breaking Point

You and Bucky had always hated each other. When Bucky gets injured during a mission, you start wondering if the hatred was just masking something else.

Strays

Bucky has a soft spot for strays.

Soft Lights

A drabble in which you and Bucky get high together.

Kickoff

A drabble in which Bucky tries supporting your favourite football team.

Hypothetically: Version 1 / Version 2

The Thunderbolts* crew gossip about Bucky's love life / Your ragtag group of supernatural superheroes gossip about your love life. (A one-shot told in two perspectives!)

Sleeper

When Bucky falls in love with the antihero he’s sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts*.

Match

You finally found your intellectual match in Bucky Barnes.

Full Throttle

Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Series / Multi-parts

Of Heroes and Heartstings Masterlist (Completed)

Bucky Barnes develops a crush on the researcher who interviewed him.

Waste a Moment Masterlist (Ongoing)

Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Dark Necessities Masterlist (Ongoing)

You drink Bucky’s blood out of necessity and accidentally form a primal bond that has the ability to unlock an ancient ritual magic.

My Own Soul's Warning + Supporting Stories Masterlist (Ongoing)

This is a series of one-shots that revolve around you, a cosmic entity who falls in love with Bucky Barnes and sacrifices everything.

Agatha Harkness

One Shots

To be Loved

A drabble in which Agatha makes sure you can never die.

Perfection

You and Agatha are on a perfect picnic date when its started raining. Why not dance in the rain?

Safe and Sound

You have been cursed. Agatha will stop at nothing to destroy the witch that cursed you.

Sam Wilson

One Shots

The Future's Overdue

A year after breaking up with Sam Wilson, he shows up at your doorstep.

Multi-character Blurbs

Bucky, Steve, and Sam as dads

Bucky is a girl dad, Steve is a boy dad, and Sam has both!

—

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞

welcome to the land of fairytales, where desires you never knew you had will come true. thank you @georgiapeach30513 & @royalsweetteaa for helping me with this.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate my work. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

!warning! these fics will include inter-species relations, size differences, innocent kink, age gaps and dark content.

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 - pairing: prince ransom drysdale x princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 - pairing: prince frank adler x mermaid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 - pairing: street rat lloyd hansen x princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 - pairing: prince lance tucker x maid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 - pairing: beast ari levinson, beast logan howlett, beast geralt of rivia x princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏 - pairing: bossy clark kent, sleazy johnny storm, dirty curtis everett, brawny steve rogers, cranky bucky barnes, tipsy dean winchester, horny sam wilson x witch/princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒃𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒆 - pairing: hunter lee bodecker x shifter reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 - pairing: mad hatter jefferson x dreamer reader 

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 ��𝒐𝒆 - pairing: scarecrow jake wyler, tin-man rick grimes, cowardly lion jake jensen, oz andy barber x lost reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: hansel steve kemp, male gretel nick fowler x witch reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 - pairing: big bad wolf luke danes x little red riding hood reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 - pairing: tarzan tangerine x jane reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 - pairing: giant august walker x female jack reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 - pairing: captain hook negan, captain hook jack sparrow x tinkerbell reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: alpha bear ari levinson, alpha bear henry cavill, alpha bear lee bodecker x goldilocks reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏 - pairing: prince steve rogers x princess/swan hybrid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒐𝒉, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔… 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒔 - pairing: mermaid jennifer check, mermaid rosalie hale, mermaid jane smith x clueless reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 - pairing: mufasa ari levinson x scar sergei kravinoff (kraven the hunter) x lioness reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

[apocalypse-shuffle]

SAM WILSON | CAPTAIN AMERICA/FALCON (the mcu | tfatws | captain america: the winter soldier)

—

“Arm Day” (Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader)

| You don’t show up for your running “date” with Sam so he shows up at your place to get a different kind of exercise in.

| SFW, exercising, romantic tension(?)

| Jesus, my summary is very nearly an innuendo. (Pic Source — Captain America: Civil War [peachy-ash icon], Captain America: The Winter Soldier [iconpsds icon], The Falcon & The Winter Soldier [marina-na-na icon])

| Inspo: Instagram

| 1k+ words

It’s the sound of your phone buzzing against your nightstand that wakes you up, and with a groan you lift your head to squint at it.

‘Sam Wilson’ flashes across your screen and you in no way can suppress the eye roll that elicits.

He was your gym buddy more often than not, but this was getting ridiculous.

When y’all ran laps together he’d slow down for you so you could keep one another company. When you were on the treadmill he’d be running in the one right beside you and hold out his arm if you stumbled so you wouldn’t go flying, emergency stopping the machine for you. You would spot each other, go out to eat afterwards, even make meal plans together. Sam was your number one.

He was also more of a pain in your ass than your actual personal trainers had ever been in the past.

You grope around for the phone, lifting it up to your ear once your clumsy fingers stumble across it.

“Yeah?”

Your grunt is met with an honest to god laugh. At this early in the morning?

“Oh my god,” you whine. “Sam, please, what do you want?”

A scoff this time.

“Y/N, it’s Saturday. Get your ass up, we got places to be.”

Still laying on your stomach you flip your head over to press the other side of your face into your pillow and switch your phone to the other ear accordingly, eyes slipping back closed.

“We? I told you I’m not leaving my house today.”

A beat of silence and then: “Okay…”

“Awesome. Have fun sweating by-”

“I’ll see you in five.”

You choke on your spit, words coming out in a whoosh and eyes snapping open.

“Fuck no! Sam!”

The sound of the dial tone reaches your ears and you curse, shooting out of bed, sleep no longer an option.

You drop your phone on your sheets and then scramble around for some shorts. If you could get to Sam before he got all the way to your apartment maybe you’d be able to shove his overactive ass back in his car.

In a frenzy you stuff your phone in your pocket and start towards the front door scratching at your head when it hits you. You’re scratching at your bare head.

“Shit- where in the world…?”

You whip around and start back towards your bedroom to look for where your head wrap had hidden itself during the night. You weren’t going all the way downstairs looking a mess.

Anywhere on your bed was a no show. It wasn’t hanging off your lamp like you’d found it once (who knows how it ended up there in the first place), and it wasn’t under your bed.

You're just about to throw caution to the wind and run out as you are regardless when two things happen at once. You find your wrap sunken into your shoes at the end of your bed and someone knocks at your door.

“Oh come the fuck on.” You grit your teeth, snatch up and firmly situate your traitorous wrap, then stomp over to jerk open the door.

“No.”

In front of you, dressed in a gray pair of sweats, Sam frowns lightly, thick brows raising.

“You made a promise,” he hedges.

You flip off said thick - accusatory - eyebrows.

“Screw my promise. I'm going to stay home and you’re going to leave. Goodbye.”

The door closes right in his face. He doesn’t take the chance not to let it, only to step back so he doesn’t break his nose. You appreciate that.

“Now hold on-! Aw come on, Y/n!” There’s muffled shuffling behind the door, him adjusting his gym bag more than likely, before he knocks again.

While you ignore him to start taking stuff out the freezer for a smoothie - you were already up, you might as well make it worth your while - he knocks three more times.

It’s when your phone starts buzzing on the countertop that you cave, stomping back over to the door and cracking it open just enough for him to see the glower on your face.

“What part of ‘Bye’ isn’t clicking? I’m tired, my muscles ache in places I didn’t even know were possible, and if I have to meal prep anymore I’m going to scream.”

He peeks through the sliver.

“Just one little circuit, alright? I brought everything with me so you won’t have to leave… .” His eyes have taken on a particular brightness that makes you just a little weak in the knees. “I’ll even cook for you after.”

Goddamnit. Your face smooths out from the glare you were rocking and Sam’s lights up.

“See? That sounds nice, now, doesn’t it?”

“Fine. A full meal, not no damn sandwich, and you make my smoothie before we start.”

“Deal. Thought you were gonna break my heart for a minute there, I'm really glad we pulled through though.”

“Yeah yeah,” you grumble and drag him and all his crap in.

_ _ _

“If you’re still aching after two days then we probably have to adjust your routine,” he curls upward and the muscles in his arms flex, stretching the sleeve of his maroon shirt to its limit. “I’ll take a pen and paper to it and we’ll figure it out, that fine by you Queen of Sheba?”

You scoff while going down on your push-ups.

“Yeah, it’s fine Sam,” you make sure to catch his eye as you straighten your arms to come up, “thanks.”

He smiles, switching to do curls with his left arm.

You go down, but end up watching unblinking for a few seconds as the muscles on his bicep become well defined peaks.

Hn.

Sam glances up and you rapidly realize that you’ve been laying on the ground and staring creepily at him for the better part of a minute.

Roughly, you clear your throat; Sam smirks and seems to go deliberately slow on his next curl. The way you gulp hurts a little.

“See something you like?”

Scowling, you roll your eyes and pick back up where you left off on your push-ups. You’re focusing intently on the tile underneath your palms when you answer him.

“No,” you snap to the floor.

Everything about Sam’s laugh says he doesn’t believe you worth a damn.

You don’t particularly care what he thinks though; something that you reiterate over and over in your head as you go on to the next workout.

Where the fuck Sam’s forward ass got off hiking a portable pull-up bar up to your apartment you did not know, but here the thing is, sitting nice and pretty like it belonged to be an absolute eyesore in the middle of your living room.

You sigh and decidedly don’t stare at him too hard as he eases down to the floor to take your previous place and start his own round of push-ups, and probably a few floor presses or something considering he brings the dumbbells down with him.

On your end starting your pull-ups starts off relatively easy. They’ve never been your favorite - and you’re certain they never will be - but at least you could do them now since you started training with Sam almost a year ago now.

Sam was neat like that. Uplifting without slipping into condescension, and being one of the few people who could push you so thoroughly out of your comfort zone.

Certainly the only person you allowed to upheave your more flexible boundaries with so little push back.

Breath huffing out of you you force yourself to rest before starting on your next set, eyes running over your workout partner’s back and the way the muscles there are also incredibly defined as he engages them.

It was a little unfair honestly. Who gave Sam Wilson the right to look so perfect? With a grunt you start working out again.

Eventually you begin waning, you can feel it in the way your arms instantly start to shake as you try to pull your body weight up for your next set, and the excess heat building in your fingers. How even as you attempt to swing your legs to get more momentum to do the pull-up you just barely manage to get one in before your arms give out, straightening back, and you’re left just hanging there.

“Goddamn,” you curse. Today really was just not your day.

Distantly you note the soft thud of weights being set down at your left but you're so focused that you don’t notice Sam move until he’s already in front of you.

He jumps up and you make a startled noise as you come face to face before he does a pull-up as easy as can be. Your lips purse.

He grins, “I got you, come on. One more rep.”

You sigh but he’s looking right into your eyes with that soft grin on his face - and you’re a sucker - so you cave in less than five seconds. Also, you don’t want to keep hanging any longer than necessary.

“I might not have one more in me, period, but I’ll try,” you murmur as you look away. You prep your muscles to move, assuming the right position, when Sam shaking his head in your peripheral catches your attention.

“Didn’t I just say I had you?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s swinging just that much closer on one arm - fucking show off - and grabbing enough of your thigh to nudge you forward so he can get his arm around your upper leg and then pull you in.

“You’re such a show off, you know that?”

You still follow his line of reasoning, though; pulling up enough that you can get both of your legs around his waist.

Sam just laughs, teeth glinting.

“I’m just happy to help.”

“Ha,” you mock, but when he pulls up you do so with him. Your arms bend, but not with nearly as much strain as before with him taking the majority of your weight, and the pressure on your core significantly lessens.

You won’t admit to having to bite back a smile at the feel of him tucked against you.

“You okay now?”

“Yeah,” you pant out, legs tightening absentmindedly around his waist. Sam grunts lowly in the back of his throat. “You in the habit of catching people like this?”

The look that briefly flashes across his face is far more severe than you think your question merits, and when Sam answers he makes sure to look you in the eye.

“I try to be.”

Then the moment’s broken, he’s pulling you both back up into your final exercise of the day and you’re left wondering where the hell Sam Wilson got off making you love him like this.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! If there’s any typos I’ll catch them later.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Oh my loveliest nonny writer. I'm in great need of some protective Sam vibes, with a sick or hurt reader who hides it to not make a fuss, she's afraid the others think she's too weak to be in the team, cause she's new. But Sam noticing her being hurt or sick and goes all in full blown protective mode. And takes cares of her 🥹😪 and makes sure that she can trust him. 💔

"my loveliest nonny writer" 🥹🥹 i'm swear my heart is ready to explode. you guys are just all so sweet. i hope you enjoy and thank you so much 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

i'll take care of you.

Sam Wilson is the epitome of caretaker. He is Caretaker with a capital C. He notices something off with you the moment he walks into the conference room, far before anyone else does.

Your head is tipped into your hand, eyes slightly glassy, flushed pallor.

"You look like hell."

You barely move - another sign that you're not feeling good. Your eyes dart over to him as he stands over you, "Thanks."

"Go get some rest. I'll catch you up on anything you miss," Sam offers, concern painting his face.

You wave him off, or at least, you try to wave him off, "I'm fine. It's just allergies."

He presses a hand to your forehead, his lips pursing in distaste, "Allergies don't give you a fever. Go back to bed. I'll check on you when the meeting's over."

You softly grunt in objection, "No."

You know you're being stubborn, but the whole reason you dragged yourself out of bed this morning was to prove a point. You wanted to prove you could handle whatever this team threw at you - even if that was just a little virus.

The point was getting a little murky with the fever, but it was a point nonetheless. You shake your head, making yourself a little dizzy.

"Listen, you're not helping anyone by being here like this. Help us by helping yourself," Sam softly explains like he can see exactly what's going on without you even having to tell him. "And if anyone gives you shit for it, I'll kick their ass. Promise."

"Sam..." you grumble.

"Go or I'll carry you out of here."

Your glare is softened by how miserable you look. "You're really bossy, you know?"

It doesn't stop there. Not with Sam Wilson as your Caretaker.

He was right, even if you don't want to admit it. Because after he sent you away, the second your head hits the pillow, you're out like a light. You're not sure how long you've slept until you're suddenly awoken by Sam's presence.

"Knock, knock," Sam announces himself, entering your room armed with the sick survival kits of sick survival kits.

You sleepily groan, "Aren't you supposed to do that before you walk into a room? How did you even get in here?

"The door," Sam cheekily replies.

"It was locked."

"I may or may not have a key."

"We'll talk about this when I can see straight."

Sam crouches down to the edge of your bed. He presses a hand to your forehead again. "You're still burning up. You might have the flu."

You halfheartedly push him away. "The flu is contagious, Sam. Go away."

"Just let me take care of you."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." He tenderly strokes the hair out of your face. "This would be a lot more romantic if you weren't all sweaty."

"I hate you."

"And in spite of how mean you're being, I brought you a few things." He reaches for his bag, unpacking item by item. "Tissues. Cooling rags. Plenty of fluids, Gatorade, ginger ale, and some tea. But most importantly, my mom's world famous chicken soup. Perfect for when you're feeling sick."

"You take such good care of me," you hum, reaching out and gently stroking his cheek. "My favorite nurse."

"I think you're delirious," Sam chuckles. His heart fluttering at your sweet caress. He reaches over you, pulling your thick cover over you, tucking you in. He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, "I'll always take care of you."

Anon's 1K Celebration Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064

[fluffyprettykitty]

glorification

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

Word Count: 900 words

Outline: Your professor wants to thank you for your stellar academic performance.

Warnings: riding, penetration, spit play, breast play, finger sucking, daddy kink, age gap, praise kink, biting. if i forgot anything major let me know!

Author’s Note: thanks to my lovely lia for coming up with thots for this one, all sam aus I promised will be coming ahead! any thots about sam are much welcome!

PS: dividers & banners by @saradika

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Sam Wilson Masterlist

"That's my good girl!"

Sam smiles as his hands move further down your hips gripping your ass as you begin to ride him harder. Still wearing all of your college clothes, your hands on his shoulders helping you to hold on down his thick cock.

"Hmmm, daddy." You moan digging your nails into his vest. "T-thank you."

"Oh baby, you don't have to thank me. If you weren't so brilliant and smart then there wouldn't be much to do." Sam continues shining a gold smile at you as his one hand holds your chin caressing your cheek with the thumb. His other hand is on your waist pushing you closer to him.

"No d-daddy!" You moan as you roll your hips. "It's you. I wouldn't have made it without you."

"Oh baby, let's just say I helped put you on the right road. Alright? Pushed you right where you needed to be."

You opened your mouth to protest more but he only pushed his finger inside your mouth forcing you to suck on it and shutting your insecure thoughts. Sure he was your professor, but he only taught you one class while you had achieved straight as across all of your classes, that's not something he could solely take credit for, this was all you.

"Look at you." He smiles more pushing another finger inside your mouth as you are using your tongue to lick around them, your brain getting a little fuzzy. "Speed it up, baby. Show me how happy Daddy makes you." He chuckles knowing you are going to eat that shit right up, pleasing him was your favorite thing in the world and you wanted nothing more than to prove yourself to him again and again.

"Mmm." You try to mumble something but it's impossible to speak and you start riding his cock again, bringing your body up and down his shaft while your hands hold onto his strong shoulders. He feels so full inside you that you can feel him everywhere making your knees fall further as you push your body towards him.

Sam finds his opportunity to nuzzle his face across your contained chest and using his teeth pops a couple of buttons of your dress shirt open. He uses the flat of his tongue on your bare skin above your bra and slowly he reaches his target pushing the fabric of your bra away. Taking his free hand to hold the base of your breast he takes your nipple between his lips and starts circling it with his tongue.

You try to speak as you moan more, wanting to chant his name but he only pushes his fingers deeper inside your mouth causing you to clench hard around his cock. He doesn't seem to mind as he continues to suck on your nipple with his eyes closed. You decide to pick up the pace, hopping up and down his cock faster, your wetness mixed with his precum and the copious amount of spit you provided allowing you to move much more freely.

Sam lets go of your nipple only to sweetly kiss around your breast and up your collarbone. You eyes stay focused on him as you try to breathe around his finger and he chuckles at you with glee. "Look at my good girl, look how good she makes me feel. Where did I get so lucky to have the most beautiful girl in the world here in my lap acing her tests and watching her bloom into her finest self?"

You want to kiss him and you move your head and he immediately understands, slipping his fingers away and crushing his lips against yours, until your lips become so entangled into one another breathing inside. You switch it up from up and down to side and side wanting him to feel all of you and take him as much you can, you are aware of how much he loves but he wants you to feel just as good as well.

It doesn't take him to long for his breaths to get shorter and you know what that means, so you roll your hips in a way that allow your pussy to clench hard on his cock, trapping him inside and making sure he'll cum right there. He chuckles as he kisses down your throat and once he can feel his orgasm reaching him, he bites down your throat to supress his moans -it's his office anyway and even if the doors and windows are locked you can never know you could possibly be passing by.

Sam shoots his cum inside you, slowly but gloriously at last and you try hard not to shout your own as you bite down your lips to keep yourself quiet. Reaching your pleasures together was your favorite thing and you almost could never finish unless he did, something that he wants so much to change deep within you.

Your arms wrap around his back and pull him closer as you collapse on his chest and he embraces you into him trying to catch his breath. He begins to overuse your name in a low chant as you are both breathing into each other.

In a couple of minutes when you will both be getting ready to leave your private tutor session, Sam will be promising you a date to remember and you know that he always keeps up with his promises.

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!