#Sam wilson fanfic

[aquaticmercy]

The Future’s Overdue

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

Pairing : Cap!Sam Wilson x ex-avenger!reader (written with she/her in mind, but I don’t think there’s gendered language in this) 

Warnings/tags : mentions of violence and trauma, cursing. Mild alcohol consumption. Angst with a happy ending. 

Word count : 3.7K

Note : This fic was inspired by the song ‘Overcome’ by Nothing but Thieves. And of course the Brave New World trailer. That flight suit? Phew. When he sliced that truck in half?? Have mercy on me my god. I do have a couple of other requests for Sam but I have so many WIPs and series so please bear with me. Enjoy!

You first met Sam in Washington, when Steve realised Hydra was growing inside of S.H.I.E.L.D.

It was the day three helicarriers got shot out of the sky. 

You and Sam were initially just two operatives thrown in the mission together by coincidence— and a little persuasion on Steve Rogers' part. 

When the dust settled, you found a strange comfort in each other, a kind of trust that only comes from people who've survived the same battles together. It was a friendship— one you had with Steve and Nat, too.

But Sam was unlike anyone you’d ever met. He was compassionate without being naive, funny without sacrificing his strength, and fiercely loyal without ever being overbearing. Everyone in your line of work fought with anger or a sense of duty— and Sam did, too. But he also fought with his heart, with a passion and a clarity of purpose that earned an incredible amount of admiration from you. 

But it wasn’t until after Sokovia fell from the sky that you realised just how much he really meant to you. 

The battle against Ultron had been brutal, a mission that left you questioning everything you’d come to believe. 

You stood among the rubble, surrounded by your teammates, and yet you felt more alone than ever.

The realisation hit you: time was fleeting. You didn’t have forever, and you didn’t want to keep ignoring the one thing that had started to matter more than any mission you’d ever had.

So that night, you sought Sam out. The rest of the team had been decompressing, recovering, but you pulled Sam into a quiet spot away from the others, somewhere under the night sky, where the stars glimmered faintly against the smoke. You didn’t say much, just let the silence and the closeness speak for itself.

When he looked at you, something like affection flickered in his eyes, a hope that maybe he meant as much to you as you did to him. It was then that you closed the space between you and kissed him—gently, like he was made of glass.

In a way, he was. This life was fragile, and his was one you couldn’t bear to lose.

After that, you spent as much time together as you could manage. Between missions, you’d crave moments of normalcy. Walks in quiet parks, stolen weekend getaways, breakfasts cooked together in your shared apartment. 

These small, simple moments began to feel like home, like the life you’d never thought you could have. 

Then came the Sokovia accords. 

When you and Sam sided with Steve, you didn't realise how everything could go so wrong. 

Your world turned upside down again. You became a fugitive, a person without a country, constantly on the run, evading governments, ducking the scrutiny of former allies. Sam stayed by your side, fighting the same battle as you.

Despite the danger, despite the sacrifices, the exile only strengthened your relationship. He was your safe haven, the one person you trusted wholly. 

One night, as you sat together in some safe house with peeling wallpaper and torn furniture, you dared to voice the thought you’d been carrying for so long. 

"One day,” you said, almost hesitantly, “when we’re done running, when all of this is behind us… I want a real life, Sam. With you.”

He looked at you then, his smile one of equal parts sadness and hope. “Tell me more,” he murmured, smiling just a little. 

“I want to marry you,” you confessed, voice trembling. “I want a house. Somewhere no one can find us. I want a family, Sam.”

For a moment, he was silent, his thumb brushing along the back of your hand. “One day. When the world stops chasing us,” He pulled you close, his words a quiet promise against your ear. “I’ll give you all of that.”

For the first time in a long time, the future felt like something worth looking forward to. It felt like something you could actually touch, something just out of reach but waiting for you. 

His promise lingered: that once you were free, once you weren’t running anymore, you’d be able to build that life together.

But then came the Battle of Wakanda, and the life you had both fought so hard for vanished in an instant as you were both erased from existence, dusted away by Thanos’s snap. For five years, you were gone.

When you returned, everything had changed. The world was broken and scattered, When you looked at Sam, you saw it, too— the realisation that so much of everything was gone. How much of the world needed fixing.

And you knew your Sam. He would want to fix it.

You saw the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. You watched him take the shield, watched him step up in a way that was brave and selfless. Everything about this was so unmistakably Sam. Your Sam.

In that moment, you knew that the life you’d dreamed of, the one you’d whispered about in the dark, wasn’t possible— not when the world still needed him.

It broke you, knowing you had to leave, to walk away from the man you loved. But you both knew that your paths were diverging. You wanted peace, family, a quiet life that had no place in the shadow of Captain America’s legacy. And Sam, with Steve’s shield in his hands, couldn’t turn away from the fight. 

It happened on a quiet evening, back in the small apartment you shared. The shadows were long, stretching across the worn wood floors, as the last light of the day reached through the windows. 

Sam was sitting across from you, his hands folded on the table, and his face was set in an expression you’d come to recognize—the one he wore when he was carrying something too heavy to keep inside. You saw it in the slump of his shoulders, the way his usually loving gaze couldn’t quite meet yours. You reached out, caressing his arm.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Sam,” you said, voice wavering. “Are we okay?”

He looked up then, his eyes meeting yours, and the sorrow there was enough to make your chest tighten. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if… if I can give you the life you deserve.”

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until finally, you pulled your hand from his. “Then we have to let this go,” you said, voice cracking with finality. “I can’t keep waiting for a life that isn’t going to happen.”

The look in his eyes was almost unbearable—regret, pain, and love all tangled together, raw and unguarded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick. 

“I’m sorry, too,” you replied, your vision blurred

The first tear drawn came from him. “I’ll always love you,” he said, his voice a quiet, broken promise. 

You looked at him, feeling the truth of those words resonate in your lungs. You would always love him too, but love alone couldn’t bridge the gap between the lives you wanted. It was heartbreaking, knowing you’d finally found something so good, only to have it slip through your fingers.

You stood up, needing to move before you changed your mind, before you broke down completely. “Goodbye, Sam,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“Goodbye,” he murmured, holding back everything he couldn’t say. He didn’t try to stop you, didn’t reach for you as you turned and walked toward the door. 

You both knew that if he did, you wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.

–

In the weeks after the breakup, you tried to convince yourself it would get easier, that the pain would fade. But the truth was, every day only sharpened the ache. It was clear that your lives were leading in opposite directions now, that Sam was destined for something larger than either of you had once imagined. 

He had the shield, the responsibility, the weight of a legacy that he hadn’t chosen but that fit him as naturally as if it were always meant to be his. 

And you? Well, after retiring, you finally had the quiet, the simplicity of a life you’d always craved, but it felt hollow without him.

You still loved him, of course. 

That was the hardest part.

There was no switch to flip, no way to undo the love that had grown in the depths of your heart. And he loved you too— you knew that as surely as you knew that the sun would rise tomorrow, the kind of knowledge you felt deep in your bones. 

But you both recognized that clinging to each other, seeing each other, would only deepen the hurt. So you made the hardest choice, cutting contact to give yourselves space to move forward, even if it felt like cutting out a piece of your heart.

You would go through your days thinking about Sam, feeling his absence as a phantom weight by your side. Sometimes, you’d catch yourself reaching for your phone, feeling the urge to share a thought, a joke, a memory— only to remember he was gone from your life now.

It was a loneliness harsher than any pain you’d felt before, and you've been shot at and stabbed multiple times. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too— if he missed you as much as you missed him.

Months went by, and the world kept turning, but you could never fully escape him. And then one day, you saw him on the screen. It was in the news, footage of Sam at the Smithsonian, standing before the shield as he laid it down, offering it back. You watched in stunned silence as he walked away from the legacy Steve had entrusted to him. He looked so different from the man you’d known—tired, torn, and full of questions only he could answer. 

Still, you knew he’d only given up the shield, not the fight. There was still that fire in his eyes, that drive you knew he would never fully let go of. He was still your Sam, the man who couldn’t stop helping others even if it meant losing himself in the process.

Then came reports of his work with Bucky Barnes. You caught glimpses here and there: videos of Sam fighting, speeches to crowds, images of him standing strong and proud, still doing the work he believed in. Each clip, each mention of him in the newspapers you read was like reopening the wound, bittersweet in a way that only true love could be.

And then, one day, you saw him on the screen again—but this time, he was wearing the Captain America suit.

The shield sat on his back, the way it once had been with Steve.

His face was calm, resilient, and he carried himself with a confidence that you hadn’t seen in a long, long time. As he stood before a crowd, addressing the nation, his voice rang out strong and clear. He spoke of unity, of justice, of how much work still lay ahead.

There was something fiercely proud and unmoving in his stance, as if he had finally found a purpose that felt right, a cause he was willing to fight for as himself. 

The people around you could hardly believe it.

But you did. You always did.

As you watched him speak to the world, you felt your heart swell with pride. He finally stepped into a role he was born for, embracing everything that came with it— the good and the bad. You felt a deep, overwhelming admiration for him— the same one you had felt all those years ago. 

The man you love had found his calling. He had finally stepped into the legacy he’d once doubted. And though he was miles away, speaking to millions of people, it felt as if he was speaking to you. It felt as if he were telling you, Look, I made it. I found my place.

—

It had been over a year since you’d last seen Sam in person. But then, you heard a knock—a familiar rhythm, one you'd both come up with in those times of hiding, a signal you’d memorised to mean ‘it’s safe to open the door.’

Suddenly, all those buried memories resurfaced. You took a deep breath and walked up to the entrance, fingers trembling ever so slightly. 

When you opened the door, he was there. 

He stood tall, carrying an air of quiet confidence that you had missed.

“Hey,” he said softly, that deep warmth in his eyes settling on you like it always had. “I know you’re retired, but I… I need your help.” He hesitated, shifting his weight, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “This mission… there’s something I just can't figure out. Tactical consulting, just advice, you know.”

Your heart gave a painful thud, torn between the part of you that had finally let yourself step back and the part that had always been drawn to Sam’s gravity. There was something in his eyes, in the way he looked at you—was it hope? Regret?

“Come on in,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady.

Once inside, you cleared space at your kitchen island, pulling out blueprints and maps from him and laying them between you. The small counter seemed even smaller with Sam standing across from you, leaning close as he unfurled more documents. The scent of his cedar aftershave filled your home in a way that felt so heartbreakingly familiar. You poured the both of you a glass of wine.

It didn't take long for you to settle into the rhythm. Soon, you were bouncing ideas back and forth, memories and laughs slipping through the cracks as you strategized, just like old times. You caught yourself chewing on the back of your pen—an old habit that Sam had always found adorable—as you debated where each exit and entrance might be. When it came time to relay the guard rotation, Sam scrunched his nose in that familiar way that always meant he was uncertain. You couldn’t help but smile, reminded of countless memories just like this one.

As the hours passed, you felt yourself relaxing, dropping your guard bit by bit. You found yourselves laughing over old missions, sharing stories of close calls and narrow escapes. When Sam’s hand brushed yours as he reached for a pen, there was a tension there that you couldn’t ignore, something that had always been effortless between you.

Then, as he raised his glass for another sip, his gaze landed on the roses on your counter— a fresh vase of red roses, bold and out of place in your otherwise grounded kitchen. He paused, frowning slightly.

“Red roses?” he asked, glancing back at you, a surprised smile lifting his lips. “You don’t like them. You always preferred pink ones.”

You felt a small pang of sadness, realising that after all this time, he remembered that small detail, one that even you’d almost forgotten. 

“I didn’t buy them,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. “A date brought them over. A couple of days ago.”

The words fell into the awkward silence between you. For a second, you saw the surprise flicker across his face. “You’re… dating again?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, well…” You gave a light laugh, trying to brush it off, “had to fill the void you left somehow.”

It was meant to be a joke, but the words cut deeper than you’d meant it to.

He looked down, fingers trailing the edge of his glass, lost in a thought he wasn’t ready to voice.

You wanted to break the tension, you had to. “What about you?” you asked, forcing a smile. “I mean, look at you. You’ve got to be dating, Sam. Come on. You’re still the most handsome man I know.”

But he shook his head, his expression solemn. “No,” he said, his gaze fixed on the wine swirling in his glass. “I guess I just haven’t moved on.”

The words struck you like a lightning strike, filling the room with a tension neither of you could ignore. For a moment, the breaths you took felt too thick, too charged. You watched him, studying his face, seeing a quiet pain etched into his expression as he finally looked up to meet your eyes.

He broke the long silence, his voice low. “Is he… good to you?”

You let out a shaky breath.  “He’s… he’s alright. We’ve only been on a couple of dates. It's not like we’re… exclusive or anything.” You paused, trying to find the words to explain. “He’s a nursery teacher. Sweet, good with kids.... But nothing serious.”

Sam nodded, a faint, bittersweet smile touching his lips. “Good with kids, huh?” his voice was filled with an ache that twisted in your chest. “Just like you always wanted.”

You felt a wave of frustration and sadness rise up. “Yeah,” you replied softly, almost to yourself, before you could stop. “But he’s not…”

The words caught in your throat, but Sam didn’t let you off easy. He leaned closer, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that took your breath away, “He’s not… what?”

“He’s not you, Sam,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could take them back. And you didn’t want to.

Something broke in him— relief, pain, and longing all at once. Without a word, he reached across the counter, his fingers finding yours. He walked around the kitchen island, sitting on the stool next to yours. His skin was warm as he closed the distance between you. His hand moved up, cupping your face as his eyes traced over you, like he was taking in every detail, every piece of who you were now.

You were still you. But you had grown without him. You had found your peace, just like you always wanted.

He leaned in, and his lips brushed yours in a  trembling kiss.

The moment he felt you return it— the moment he felt the familiar force of your kiss, he deepened it. His hands slid into your hair, pulling you close, desperate to feel you, to make up for all the lost moments he had to go through without you.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your skin. 

The kiss had left both of you shaken to your core.

Sam’s hands were still on your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks, making sure you were real, and that this wasn't just one of his dreams about you. He searched your eyes, looking for something to reassure him this was more than a moment of weakness.

“We can do this,” he whispered, his voice raw, almost frantic. He believed now, he needed to make you believe, too. “Clint—Clint made it work, right? A family, a life— he did it. He’s raising kids and still comes back when we need him. We’ll talk to him. I’ll ask him, I’ll ask him anything, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

He swallowed, his breath shallow, his desperation pulling him closer to you. “If that’s not enough, if this— if me being Captain America is what’s in the way, then I’ll… I’ll give it up. Just say the word. I swear, I’ll give it all up if that’s what you need. None of this—none of it means a damn thing without you.”

The words hit you hard, more sincere than anything else you’d ever heard him say. You saw the same unwavering love in his eyes, but this time it came with a willingness to do anything, sacrifice anything, to make room for you in his life.

It terrified you because you knew he meant every single word. 

You closed your eyes, finally feeling the burn of tears that you barely managed to hold back. You reached up to hold his face, your fingers brushing along his jawline.

“No, Sam,” you said, your voice shaking but unbreakable in its resolve. “You’re not giving up the shield for me. I’ve seen you out there. I’ve watched you bring people together. And I… I can’t be the reason you walk away.”

He shook his head, his eyes pleading. His breath came quicker. It was moments like this when you realised that he was human. Not a super soldier. Not enhanced. 

He was human with an unnatural resilience.

“But if this is the only way to have you—”

You can’t help but interrupt him, before he dug himself a fantasy so deep that he would struggle to get out of it. You closed the small gap between you, kissing him again. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You could feel the tremor in his hands, the way his breath hiccuped, so close to breaking. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead to his, calming his silent pleas.

“Listen to me,” you whispered. “You are Captain America. That’s a part of you, and I would never forgive myself if I took that. But that doesn’t mean we have to give this up,” you added, willing him to understand. “I want to try again.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. For the first time in a year, he was letting himself hope again. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, vulnerable in a way you’d never heard before.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady, filled with a conviction you hadn’t felt in years. “I want you back.”

The relief on his face, the gratitude, was like sunlight breaking through a storm. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and then another to your lips, softer, filled with a tenderness you had missed so damn much.

“I’m all in,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t care what it takes. We will make this work.”

As you nodded, he lifted you into his arms, spinning you around. For the first time in a year, your giggles filled your quiet kitchen. When he set you down, his gaze landed on the flowers once again.

“First on the agenda,” he said, smiling mischievously, “we’re getting rid of those damn red roses. I’ll get you pink ones tomorrow.”

You laughed through happy tears as he pulled you to the couch, the mission he had come to consult you for forgotten, even if only for tonight.

You watched him leave the blueprints behind to spend time with you, when he would’ve been obsessing over a year ago. This time, you felt a conviction that he was right— that it would work.

This time, he was willing to compromise. And so were you.

-end.

[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! 💛

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[megamindsecretlair]

i need me some one night stand Sam smut, maybe they met at a bar or mutual friend’s wedding/any event. whatever your little heart desires i just know that it’s gonna be amazing especially with Sam’s nasty behind. ily 🩷

A/N: I know I keep apologizing, but I am SOOO SORRY! I did not intend for this to take so long. I know you said it's cool, but I can't help it. Thank you for being so patient with me. ILY, ILY!

Feel Like I Do

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Some sentences are intentional AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), teasing, use of pet names, mentions of birth control, size kink, praise kink, one night stand smut.

Summary: See Ask. While out at a club for your friend's birthday, you bump into Sam. He's sweet, charming, and there's something achingly familiar about him. You go home with him, needing to see where this goes.

Word Count: 5,505k

A/N: When an ask kicks my ass, it kicks my ass!!!! However, once it finally came together, it flowed so beautifully. Thank you @planetblaque for helping me! ILY. This is based off of one my fave songs. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I love hearing your thoughts! I block ageless blogs.

Taglist: @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby @leahnicole1219 @capswife @anghstybean @targaryenvampireslayer @sheabutterbabes @browngirldominion @theunsweetenedtruth @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @nerdieforpedro

The cover band was too loud. You grimaced as you made your way past the press of bodies towards the bar. You could barely hear the singer and the instruments sounded disharmonious on top of it. You hated nights like these. Why couldn’t your friend’s birthday fall during the week? 

This was your favorite club but you mostly went during the week when you could sit back and relax. There were less people, less lecherous men, and you could actually hear who was playing. It was a great spot to discover new and local talent. 

You shoved past a guy leaning in some poor girl’s face. You dug your elbow into his side hard enough for him to turn around. The girl he was speaking with gave you a grateful smile while she took off, disappearing into the crowd. 

You waved innocently to the man. There was a small opening at the bar that you made a beeline for. As soon as you reached it, you lifted a hand to get the bartender’s attention. At the same time, a man bumped into you and raised his own hand.

“Hey!” You said.

The man looked at you and you gasped. He was so cute. Smooth chestnut skin, a neat goatee, and high cheekbones. He wore a simple outfit with dark jeans and a carmine T-shirt but he wore it extremely well. The shirt bunched around his upper arms, bulging under his massive muscles. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you! Please, go ahead,” he said. He waved for you to go ahead. 

“Thanks. You’re not a regular here ,” you said.

The man shook his head. “Trying to cheer up my friend,” he said. He pointed to a section of the club where the booths were. There were two men sitting there. One with blond hair and looked like he bench pressed entire trucks for a living. The other had darker, longer hair and was whispering something to him.

“Girl troubles?” You asked.

“Always is. I’m Sam,” he said. He held out his hand. You shook his hand and introduced yourself. It was warm and big, strong in a way most men these days weren’t. You reluctantly dropped his hand, wondering what the hell was wrong with you. You just met the man and there was no reason to feel so..connected to him already. As if you knew him. 

“What brings you to this madhouse tonight?” Sam asked. You both waved for the bartender’s attention, but he was too busy at the other end of the bar. It’d be a while before he made his way down this way. The other bartender was too preoccupied by a group of guys on the opposite end. Fuck, you just wanted a damn drink. 

“Birthday for my friend,” you said. You pointed to your friends in a different booth. They were currently whooping, yelling and throwing their hands up while they danced. They looked like they were having fun. It was the goal and you were happy. 

“Ah, so they send the errand people to grab their drinks, huh?” Sam asked. 

“Seems like. But we’re good friends, so we’ll grin and bear it,” you said.

Sam nodded. “Since we’re gonna be here a while, you mentioned that I wasn’t a regular here. Does that mean you are?” 

It was your turn to nod. You leaned on the bar and faced him better. There were too many people crowding on either side, screaming for the two bartenders behind the bar. They pressed against you until you were flush against Sam. To his credit, he did his best to get away and give you some room.

“Guess we’re getting personal tonight. How ‘bout your next drink is on me as an apology?” He asked.

Something about him was so disarming. It was unnerving. Your natural defenses were useless against him. Usually you were trying to get out of there as fast as you could. Picking up women in bars always seemed so cheesy to you. Full of bad pick up lines and beer goggles. 

Sam seemed as sober as a judge. And he smelled divine. Something earthy. Something that reminded you of taking hikes in the forest, faint mist in the air, and the sound of a small waterfall nearby. 

You hadn’t had much to drink but being near him was like you were buzzed. Like time was hazy and the only plane of existence was inside the club. You swayed a bit towards him. Drawn to his gravitational pull.

“I’d like that, but no apology needed.” You smiled at him, suddenly at a loss of what to do or say. Your body was becoming electrified. The sounds in the place receded to the background as your attention narrowed to Sam. 

“No apology needed, but how about an answer to my question in exchange? Is it strange that I feel like we know each other?” 

You grinned. Good, it wasn’t just you. You shook your head. “Right? Like what is that?” 

Sam ran through places that you might have in common. Like grocery stores, no. Or gyms, hell no. He ran around nearabout the Washington monument every day in the wee hours of the morning.

“If I’m up before the sun is up, shoot me,” you said.

He laughed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He had a good laugh. One that you wanted to hear over and over. 

“Not a morning person, huh?” He asked.

“Not even a little bit.” You were quite the terror in the morning when you woke up. As if the day owed you a personal favor for getting up on time. You had no time for morning chats or chores or anything that required brain activity until your first cup of coffee. Even then, it was hit or miss on how your mood would progress until the sun was higher in the sky and you didn’t feel like crawling back into bed.

You abandoned the drinks and simply talked to Sam. You learned more about him, about his time spent in the military and that he was a counselor now. You told him about your soul-sucking job and how you came here often to listen to local bands. 

He had a great voice that melted like butter around everything he said. And the way he told a story made you feel like you were really there. 

Every now and then, you would get bumped into and in turn, bump into him. Every push against his body was its own hit of dopamine. Every time he steadied you, his hands wrapped around your forearms, turned your brain to mush. Every time he smiled, you wanted to grab him and never let go. 

“We still haven’t gotten any drinks,” he said. 

You chuckled as you realized that you were probably talking to him for the last thirty minutes. In your own bubble, getting to know one another. 

You looked towards your friends. They were still dancing but were now on their phones. You pulled yours out to see the dozens of missed texts. The threats to call the police started. You texted them back to know that you were still alive and not kidnapped. You showed Sam and he laughed.

“We’re pretty bad friends,” he said. He looked towards his own. The situation looked a bit better. Maybe the dark-haired one was able to cheer up the blonde. 

“So bad! What are they gonna do with us?” You asked.

“Well, I still haven’t gotten you that drink but it doesn't look like we’re having much luck at the bar. I can’t let you leave without making it up to you,” he said. 

You grinned and looked towards the dance floor. The cover band had mercifully stopped and now the DJ was spinning records you could actually dance to. You turned your attention back to Sam. “How about a dance?” 

He looked towards the crowded dance floor and then turned back to you with a chuckle. “Think you can keep up?” 

You giggled and stepped away from the bar. You glided your hand across his chest and he looked down to follow the movement. “Can you?” You asked.

Sam smirked. He grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor. The bottom of the floor was illuminated with squares of color. Neon blues, reds, and purples danced over you as you stepped onto the floor. 

You started bobbing your shoulders and getting into the rhythm. Sam followed your lead, getting closer and shaking his hips. His hands coasted along your exposed arms in your black tank top, pulling you closer and closer. You grinned at him. 

The song changed to a funky, techno type hip-hop song. It made everyone scream with joy. You popped your booty more to match the quick beat and Sam turned you around. He grabbed the belt loops of your jeans and pulled you closer into his body roughly, your back to his chest.

You twerked on him, rubbing and grinding your booty into his crotch. If you weren’t mistaken, he was definitely happy about that. He already seemed so thick and heavy behind his jeans but he had given no indication that his mind went there.

He dropped his head closer to your shoulder, his breath fanned across your damp neck. Sweat pooled along the slopes of your body. He switched up the way you were dancing on him, controlling your movements to the way he liked and you were powerless to do anything but go along with it. 

You slid your hand along the back of his neck and cupped his head. He moaned in your ear as you continued this dance, rocking with each other like you wanted to devour each other whole. 

You thought that feeling like you were the only two people in the room was a joke. Experiencing it with Sam was surreal as no one else mattered. No one else existed. 

He moved his hands from the belt loops to grab your hips. His fingers rode up your shirt a fraction so that he could play with your skin where your jeans stopped. Just that tiny bit of friction, his calloused fingers rubbing along your smooth skin, made your panties even more soaked than what they already were. 

You were in tune with this man. You felt him on a cellular level. Every breath of his tugged at your cells. Every sound he made tickled your veins. Everytime he ground his hips into you, to let you know nonverbally that he was feeling you,  was like a twitch in your muscles. 

Your bodies moved in sync. Neither one of you could keep your hands from roaming. Seeking. A compulsion for more and more. There was no end in sight. No limit for this need driving you. A need to feel him, all of him. 

Sam kissed your neck, licked right over the pounding vein in your neck and you dropped your head back against his shoulder. This felt too right. Too overwhelmingly good that you wanted to freeze this moment. To exist in limbo with him. 

His thumbs pressed into your lower back and you moaned. Sam continued kissing up your neck until you turned your head. Your lips pressed together, a mini explosion all its own that rocked you to your core.

His lips were warm, inviting. His breath was minty with a subtle hint of beer. He kissed as well as he danced. Perhaps better. 

“Come back to my place,” he said against your lips and then dived in for another scorching kiss. 

“Yes,” you answered, though he hadn’t phrased it like a question. God, you wanted to see where this could go. It was soul crushing to part for even a minute. You didn’t know him. But you felt like you did. Like you had known him your entire life. 

He stopped dancing and took your hand from his head. He pulled you off of the dance floor. “Meet me outside and then follow me to my place.” 

You nodded. You departed, holding onto each other until you’d either have to let go or risk injury. You watched each other until the crowd obscured him. You took a deep breath, returning to reality for half a second.

You poked your way through the crowd, reaching your friends at the booth.

“Who the hell was that?” Your friend, Alana, said and waved a napkin in front of her face. The birthday girl, Cece, nodded her head.

“Shit, I feel like I need a damn cigarette,” she said.

You waved them off. Your insides were jelly, a giddy nervousness that wouldn’t quit. “Will you hate me for dipping?” 

“One of us needs to get laid. Go ‘head girl,” Cece said and hi-fived you. 

“I love you, I love you,” you said. You hugged them both and made them promise to look out for each other.

“I’ll accept my name as the middle name for the baby ya’ll finna make!” Cece yelled and you smacked her arm.

“Nasty ass!” You waved goodbye and headed to the parking lot. You kept expecting for that feeling to disappear. That desperate neediness in your veins to return to Sam and never leave his side. But it never did.

It increased tenfold when you reached outside. The cool air fell over your sweaty skin like stepping into a freezer. It should have woken up your senses. You didn’t “do” one night stands. You didn’t randomly go with strangers and have sex. 

However, seeing Sam standing by his car made you want to jump his bones even more. He saw you approach and he smiled. 

“You can change your mind if you want to,” he said. 

“I don’t want to,” You said and smiled. 

He told you to follow him. Your eyes cataloged everything about him. The way he moved, the way he talked. The way he stood there and radiated peace and calmness like walking melatonin. 

You climbed into your car and followed Sam. He didn’t live far. He lived out in a bunch of townhomes, neat and tidy in their uniform rows. You supposed that to a military person, this would feel like home. 

Sam parked first and you parked in front of his place. He got out of the car and so did you. You made your way to him. Nerves prevented you from speaking but there was a comfortable familiarity with him that didn’t require words from either of you.

He grabbed your hand and led you into his house. It was tastefully decorated and most importantly - clean. There were too many grown men comfortable with living in absolute filth and had the nerve to think women were just supposed to excuse it away. 

Sam turned on a few lights, enough to see by. After locking the door and throwing his keys on the table beside it, he faced you.

He slowly approached, his eyes raking over your body. You felt it like a physical caress. His face showed nothing but appreciation and desire. He liked what he saw. And damn, did you like what you were seeing as well. He moved like a large cat, like a lion lazily stretching its muscles. 

He stepped to you and then tilted your head up by your chin. He grinned and then closed his eyes, kissing you softly. Reverently. Like it was a long-lost reunion after decades apart. You felt like you would float away at any moment. 

He deepened the kiss. He grabbed both sides of your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. Your hands finally grabbed his thick arms, rubbing his shoulders and hanging on. He moaned low in his throat, continuing to be content with just kissing you. Tasting you. 

“Upstairs? I’m assuming?” You asked. 

“Beauty first,” he said. He let you go so you could turn around and head towards the stairs. You passed by pictures of him growing up. Two parents and what looked like a sister. There were more pictures of the sister with kids. Pictures of Sam with his unit. 

Sam placed his hands on your hips and escorted you to his room. He turned on a lamp and the light was a little harsh but still intimate. The walls were painted a deep, soothing blue. His sheets matched the walls and he had blinds on the window. 

He wasn’t much for useless junk. Everything had its place and section. He’d have a fit if he saw your place. It was clean, but you definitely tended to cherish trinkets, gadgets, or souvenirs. Proof of life. Of love. Of friendships and relaxing trips. 

You faced him with a smile. There was no rush here. Nothing to indicate that he was trying to pressure you in any way. You grinned wider and reached for your shirt, throwing it on the floor. 

Sam’s eyes widened, taking in your peek-a-boo turquoise bra. He licked his lips. Feeling emboldened by his obvious desire, you stripped out of your shoes and jeans, kicking them off to the side.

“I show you mine…” you sang. You grinned and sidled up next to him, reaching for his shirt. He helped you pull it off of him. Fuck, he was gorgeous. He was all smooth skin and muscle. Stack on top of stack. He took his physical health seriously. Your hands rubbed all over every inch you could reach. 

Sam’s heavy breathing filled the room as you touched him. You stared into his eyes and leaned down to place a kiss over one of his pecs. He grinned. “Like what you see?” 

“You know damn well how fine you are,” you said. 

“Don’t mean I don’t wanna hear it,” he said.

“You are so fucking hot,” you said. You might have drooled. Didn’t care.

Sam chuckled as he finally shed his own boots and jeans, revealing black briefs and an impressive bulge. You reached for it, ready to feel that too but he grabbed your wrists before you made contact. You pouted at him.

“I was raised to be a gentleman. So get your sexy, gorgeous ass on that bed and spread them pretty legs for me,” he said. 

Shivers wrecked you. There was no breeze in the house to blame it on. No whir of the A/C to excuse it away. His words alone had you rubbing your thighs together and grinning. 

You backed up into the bed, holding his gaze. He licked his lips while you sat down and then scooted onto the bed. He stalked closer so that he could maintain that shared look as you laid down and got comfortable on his plush mattress. 

Sam tilted his head at you. You rolled your eyes and spread your legs like he asked you to. He made a pleased sound that you felt down to your toes. 

He reached out and rubbed your thighs and legs, getting you used to his touch. He hooked his rough fingers around your matching panties and tugged them down. He whistled softly as he got a peek at your glistening center.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he said. He looked up at you. As he descended down with a kiss to your tummy, he asked, “Can I taste it?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. Your breathing turned choppy. 

He placed kisses along your lower tummy, not touching your pussy at all. His hands remained locked around your thighs, holding them open. He started to move down, kissing along your thighs. He stopped when he reached your inner thigh. 

“Can I play with it?” 

“Fuck yes,” you moaned. 

His fingers massaged your thighs, digging deep and finding knots you didn’t know existed. You moaned, unable to stop yourself from squirming under his methodical hands. His thumbs traced patterns as he massaged you, tracing small circles into your skin. He kept his hands moving, gripping and learning you. His thumbs caressed the inside juncture of your legs, where your thighs met your pelvis.

“Oue, shit,” you moaned. 

Sam chuckled and brushed his goatee against your skin. His face was smooth earlier but there were the beginnings of prickly stubble that rubbed along your thighs. You were unused to this type of teasing. Where it felt like your skin would melt off if he didn’t do something soon. 

He placed lazy kisses to your inner thighs, making each area tingle. You felt phantom kisses all over and you continued to squirm.

“Calm down, relax,” he said against your skin.

“How can I? You’re driving me insane,” you said.

“Insane? Good. I wanna drive you to total and complete madness,” he said. 

Fuck.

He kept placing these kisses along your skin and your body twisted and bowed off of the bed the closer he approached your pussy. You were probably already leaving a nice little puddle on his covers already. 

“Sam, please,” you sighed. His fingers felt heavenly but you wanted more. You wanted to feel him. 

“I’m sensing some impatience,” he said. 

“Hella impatience,” you said.

Sam chuckled. You thought he’d say something else. You thought you’d get a warning and brace for whatever it was that he did next. But when his tongue flattened against your pussy, you leaned off of the bed with a long moan. 

Your hands flew to his head, clutching him to you. He waited with his tongue against your pussy as you panted, twisted, and turned on the bed. That small act felt like a lightning strike. Sam kept your legs open waiting for you to calm down.

You took quick, choppy breaths trying to calm yourself down. This was so fucking embarrassing. You should not be this overly excited when he hasn't even done anything yet. 

You planted your ass on the bed and then Sam groaned, licking up run away arousal. “Fuck, you taste so good. So sweet,” he said.

Your laugh was breathy. “It’s uh, been a while,” you said.

“That’s okay. Me too,” he said.

“Is this where I find out something’s wrong with you to scare off women?” You asked.

Sam laughed, kissing your thigh and leaving a wet mark behind. “I can only say that I just haven’t found the right woman yet.” 

You were going to say something else but then he started licking in earnest. As if you were his own personal ice cream cone. He moaned more, settling further onto the bed. Then he really dug in.

You scratched his scalp as he ate you out. You couldn’t stop gyrating and grinding your hips into his mouth. He moaned and sucked and licked until your legs were shaking and you were screaming out your orgasm. Screaming at the ceiling and any neighbors nearby. 

“Oh fuck!” You shook and twitched. As you came down, you leaned up. But Sam gave you a wink and dived back down, licking you again and teasing your entrance with his tongue.

“Sam?” You asked, but ended on a moan. Your clit was sensitive and you twitched with every pass. 

“I ain’t done yet,” he moaned into your pussy. 

You made a garbled, panicked sound. The hell did he mean he wasn’t done? He continued to lick and suck, wet smacking noises bouncing off of the walls. Your moans mixed with his. Both of you totally dedicated to the giving and receiving of oral pleasure. 

Your tummy tightened, contracted, pulling another orgasm out of you. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” you chanted, unable to control your body or thoughts. You were out of your mind with pleasure.

Your lungs burned since you couldn’t draw in enough air to properly breathe. You felt dizzy and disoriented. “Oh fuck,” you said.

Sam leaned back and smacked his lips. You barely managed to look down at him over your belly. His lower jaw was drowning in your juices. He gave you a wink and kissed your thigh. “Okay?” He asked.

You nodded, too far gone to speak. 

“Good, I still ain’t done,” he panted. He took a deep breath and latched right back onto your clit. 

“Shit!” You yelled, trying to scoot away from him. Those muscles were not just for show. He pinned your legs to the bed, opening you up further. He held you in place as he returned to devouring his meal, heedless to your desperate pleas and cries. 

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” you said as you tapped on his head.

He lifted his head. “You okay?” 

“T-too much,” you said.

“Aww, need a break?” He asked.

You nodded, tears swimming to your eyes. “I’m still hungry. Give me one more,” he said.

“What!” He returned to your pussy, licking all around your clit and making your eyes roll back in your head. You were unused to this much pleasure, this much bliss. Before long, another orgasm was steamrolling over you and robbing you of breath. 

True to his word, he stopped and kissed up your thighs and rubbed his wet beard into your skin. He nibbled on your tummy. You felt all of this distantly, knowing he was doing it but what was one more sensation as you calmed down from your orgasm? Your nerves were on fire. Singed right down to the atom. 

Sam rubbed your stomach. You closed your eyes and snuggled into the feeling. Of the tranquility you felt by his side. 

“You are so mean,” you said.

Sam chuckled. He leaned over and started kissing your cheek and jaw. You faintly smelled yourself on him and it made you want to lick his face. His lips moved lower to whisper in your ear. “You should’ve warned me that you taste so damn good. I could spend all night in between your legs. Tasting that pretty pussy,” he said.

“Fuck. Sam,” you said. You turned your head to look into his pussy drunk eyes. 

He grinned. He brought his hand up to caress your cheek. “You’re really gorgeous.”

“You’re gonna kill me,” you said.

He laughed. “I hope not. I feel like I’d miss you too much even though we just met,” he said. 

You were completely limp as a noodle. You were relaxed and lethargic, incapable of doing anything more than concentrating on your breathing. However, you were a lady. 

You got to your elbows and then reached for his briefs. You cupped him, running your hands over the material. Even though the color was black, there were obvious wet spots there. Sam groaned, rolling his eyes back. 

He nudged his face against you, seeking your lips without opening his eyes. You obliged, kissing him and tasting yourself on his tongue. It was a heady thing. 

You did the same thing he did to you. You kissed along the corners of his mouth, his jaw, his neck, and his beautiful chest. You moaned your appreciation for his body as you climbed down his body, grabbing his briefs and tugging them down.

His dick sprang free. Slightly curved and smooth, the tip leaked with precum. You licked your lips and settled onto the side of him so you could take him in your mouth. 

“Fuck, me,” he groaned. 

You worked his shaft into your mouth, coating it with your saliva. As you did, you bobbed your head up and down sucking him all the way to the back of your throat. His groans spurned you on to go faster, further, wanting to hand deliver the same pleasure he did for you. 

His hips started to jerk the faster you sucked him down until he was pushing at your shoulders to get up. You wiped your mouth and looked at him quizzically. 

“I want to cum while I’m inside you,” he said. He gave you a dark, feral look that made your pussy throb. How was it that he was so damn gorgeous and generous on top of it? It was like you found a unicorn. Or a man built for your pleasure. 

You grinned. “I’m on the pill,” you said.

He closed his eyes briefly and took a few deep breaths. “Don’t tell me that,” he said.

You kissed his thick, powerful thighs and rubbed your cheek against his legs. The tiny hairs there tickled your face but you looked up at him. “I’m on the pill,” you said again. 

He groaned and then got to his knees on the bed. He kissed you, his big beautiful lips slanting against yours. He was a nasty kisser. Tongues dueling against each other, lips smacking, moaning and groaning into each other’s mouths. 

He pulled you onto your knees until he positioned you on your back. He fell over you and settled in between your legs, rubbing his large dick against your inner thigh. He humped you, grinding his dick against your clit.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Hell yes, please Sam. Please, I need to feel you,” you said.

Sam grinned and went back to kissing you. He used one hand to guide himself inside you and you shared a loud groan. He was large. Stretching you to your limit. 

“Fuck!” You yelled.

Sam kissed you and waited as you adjusted to his length. He slowly worked himself inside until he was able to glide more easily, aided by your essence. Once he was down to the hilt, he paused and looked into your eyes.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he said. He kissed you again, sweeter this time.

Slowly, he began moving. He groaned and sped up as if he couldn’t help himself. As if every slide inside of you was like climbing the staircase to heaven. Before long he was pounding inside of you, pounding you into the bed while still kissing you.

You would never get enough of kissing him. Your heart felt like it was ready to burst. He was so damn sweet and caring while being absolutely fucking nasty. You had never had sex like this. Sex that completely enveloped every inch of you and lit you on fire. Sex that made you feel seen and heard and like your pleasure came first.

He was driving your ass into the bed with the force of his thrusts. “Fuck, Sam! Fuck, Sam!” You gripped onto his forearms, nails digging into his skin. 

“Hm, give me another one. Another one, beautiful,” he said. 

As if your pussy responded to the command, you were squeezing him as you were cumming. You shouted, loudly, your body curling in on itself as the orgasm rolled through you and over you. 

“Shit,” Sam whispered against your lips as he came. His hips were still moving to the pace he set, the momentum causing him to fuck his cum into you deeper and deeper. His dick pulsed inside, filling you completely. 

“OH, fuck!” You shouted. 

Sam dropped against you and you both caught your breath. He was deliciously sweaty, and all masculine energy as he laid on top of you. He leaned to one side to try and lessen his weight but you clutched his shoulders, hugging him.

“Stay, for a moment,” you said. He was the perfect size and weight to act as a weighted blanket. He laughed as he placed his weight back on top of you.

“You’re cute. And funny,” he said, nudging his goatee against your cheek. 

“You’re cute and funny,” you echoed. Even after everything you shared, you were hungry for more. He seemed to have the same thought. He couldn’t stop rubbing against you. You welcomed it, not willing to leave him just yet.

He softened inside of you and then slowly pulled out. You were sad to miss the feel of him on top of you. He pecked your lips and disappeared into an adjacent bathroom. You heard the water running and then he was returning.

He placed a warm washcloth to your pussy and gently cleaned you up. He grinned as you made incoherent noises. He finished and returned the washcloth to the bathroom.

“Will you agree to stay ‘till the morning? I make a mean pancake,” he said.

“Mean, you say?” You asked. You stretched out like a fat cat, working out little kinks and tweaks from vigorous sex. 

“Mean as hell. Probably got sent to jail a few times over it,” he said.

You laughed at his corny joke. He sat on the bed and waited for your answer. You smiled. “I suppose I have to see if you can back up this claim,” you said. 

“Oh, I can definitely back it up,” he said.

“Oh, definitely. Someone is definitely cocky,” you said. 

Sam chuckled as he helped you sit up so that he could pull the covers off of the bed. He grabbed another one from a closet in the hallway and then draped it over you. He climbed into the bed and snuggled up next to you on his side. 

You talked, giggled, and kissed until the wee hours of the morning. You hated to admit it, but the pancakes were definitely mean and slamming.

Whew! Did you know I have a Sam series? Find more Sam here: The Secret Sam Wilson Files

[writing-for-marvel]

These are all the fics I've read in October. Please go show all these amazing writers some much deserved love! Also please remember to read the warnings for each individual fic

🔥 - smut | 💗 - fluff |💧 - angst | 😈 - dark

Dividers by @saradika

Bucky Barnes

💧 Meant To Be (series) by @rosepetalsinwinter

🔥 Might Even Be by @slyyywriting

🔥 Lose Your Voice by @navybrat817

💗 Feelin’ Gourd by @jobean12-blog

💧💗🔥 Insatiable by @/jobean12-blog

💗 Rooted in Love by @/jobean12-blog

🔥 Cockwarming by @vellicore

💧💗 Clingy by @imtryingbuck

💗 A Written Notion by @sweetdreamsbuck

💧🔥 Wait For Hours by @notafunkiller

💧🔥 One Night With You Part 1 by @jtargaryen18

💗 What He Deserves by @hannibals-favourite-meal

💗 Personal Pillow by @mrsbarnesblog

💗 Hot Chocolate by @littleseasiren

💧💗 Who The Hell Is Daryl? By @lostgirlmuseum

💗 Firefighter Bucky taking you in after a fire at your apartment building by @espinosaurusrexex

💧💗 What If I Am Too Much? by @notafunkiller

😈🔥 Ace of Wands by @flordeamatista

Steve Rogers

🔥 Love Bites by @lunarbuck

🔥 Eyes on Me by @1-800-jjbarnes

💗 Back Rubs by @sapphire-rogers

🔥 Car Sex by @stuckymonkey

🔥 Carnival Fun by @notyetneedcoffee

💗🔥 I’ve still got a few rounds left in me by @thyme-in-a-bubble

💗 Stars and Stripes by @intrepidacious

🔥💗 Breathe Me by @fushic0re

💧 Say It Back by @fandoms-writings

💗 The Second Date by @crazyunsexycool

🔥💗 Overstimulation by @myfictionaldreams

💧💗 Imagine Steve coming to be with you by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord

Wanda Maximoff

🔥 Somnophilia by @sytoran

🔥 Thigh Riding by @/sytoran

💗 The Purrfect Pair by @astrorogers

Frank Castle

🔥😈 Sacrifice Yourself and Let Me Have What’s Left by @mrsmischief209

💧🔥 Complicated by @targaryenvampireslayer

💧💗 How To Say I Love You by @feelmyskinonyourskin

💗 Domestic Frank by @strawhbrrries

Sam Wilson

🔥 Phone Sex by @/lunarbuck

💧💗 Love Me, Too by @onceuponastory

💗🔥 Sugar Daddy!Sam by @fluffyprettykitty

Andy Barber

🔥 The Devil by @/flordeamatista

💗 CEO!Andy by @holacia3

💗 Your Age Is Showing by @worksby-d

Lee Bodecker

😈🔥 Save Your Tears by @/flordeamatista

😈 Lights Out by @/vellicore

Joel Miller

🔥 Thrills by @moonlight-prose

🔥 Can’t Keep My Hands to Myself by @/jobean12-blog

🔥💗 Joel is such a sap after sex by @inklore

💧💗 Roommate Joel Collection by @/holacia3

Multiple Characters

💧😈 Surrender by @/mrsmischief209

🔥 Double Penetration by @/lunarbuck [Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers]

😈🔥 The Magician by @/flordeamatista [Lloyd Hansen & Nick Fowler]

[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. 

[sweetcocopowder]

Sambucky Throw Away Fic

Synopsis: Bucky has a nightmare and Sam is there is help

Word Count: 802

Warnings: Trauma. angst. Fluff

Notes: This is a throw away fic because I realized after writing this for a request, it wasn't what they wanted. So this is just, eh. Here you guys go ahaha. Also this is very much unedited!!!

All Sam can do is watch and wait. He’s tried to stop the nightmares before, once. And that led to him having a black eye for up to two weeks. And it honestly pains him to sit here and watch Bucky toss and turn in his sleep.

He breathes heavily and sweat lathers his body in a thick sheen that can be seen in the low lighting of the bedside lamp. His face is scrunched up into a painful expression, his mouth mumbling words that don’t quite make sense. His metal arm shifts and shutters Bucky grips the blanket that he’s stolen completely from Sam.

Then Bucky’s metal arm swings out, just missing Sam by a hair before the owner of it sits up straight with a strangled cry. Bucky was quick to look around the room in a panic, almost like he wasn’t seeing reality, but what was still replaying in his mind. This was something that always has Sam’s heart aching… wrenching to reach out and touch the solider. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t bear to scare him anymore than he already is. The sweat makes Bucky’s skin look like a wet mess, his short hair sticking to his forehead.

“Another nightmare?” Sam asks.

The voice in the dimly lit room catches Bucky off guard. He quickly looks to Sam, blue eyes wide in the night almost an iced expression with nothing but pain swirling in them. He tries to calm down quickly though as he realizes who’s next to him. Running his cold metal fingers through his soaked hair, he cringes at the feeling. No one else would be in the same bed as him. He wouldn’t let anyone see him like this not even Steve, but yet... Sam’s an exception.

Bucky swallows thickly as Sam finally reaches out and places a hand on the other man’s sticky forearm. His shoulders slouch at the touch, his features relaxing.

“Yeah,” Bucky says as he turns away, flinching slightly at the touch of his lover.

“Wanna talk about it?” Sam asks.

And like all those other times, Bucky’s back is all he sees. Hunched over and almost embarrassed. Silence comes naturally. To Sam’s annoyance. His hand falls from Bucky and he flops back down onto the bed with a groan, rubbing his eyes slightly from the lack of sleep.

“It’s better to talk about it. Get it off your chest,” Sam can’t help but grin into his words. “Feels reeeaaaal good.”

Bucky sighs, running his Vibranium hand through his hair again this time trying his best to flatten out the spikes and stray pieces of wet floof. “I dreamt of the train again,” his voice is all but a cracked whisper, one that Sam only just catches.

He sits up fully this time, searching for the soldier’s face in the dim street lights that shine through the apartment window. Bucky’s eyes stare down at his hands, as if the memory places right in front of his eyes. Sam’s seen this so many times with other soldiers. But Bucky always feels different to the rest. He’s always been different to the rest.

“Bucky,” Sam softly says.

Blue eyes quickly look to him, snapping out of thought. Sam holds onto his flesh and blood arm again, squeezing tightly this time.

“That’s all in the past. What’s now is now,” Sam states.

“That’s easier said than done,” the soldier almost snaps.

Sam rolls his eyes while shaking his head. “I know it’s easier said than done. But saying some shit out loud helps, even if it may seem fruitless at first.”

Bucky swallows thickly, watching Sam intently. Sam can see so many thoughts flickering and spiralling around his head. He’s just gotta make up his mind to what he’ll choose to say.

“I know this may not be the time, but c-can I kiss you?” Bucky asks, his gaze wondering back down to his hands, picking his nails anxiously. He always felt so stupid asking for affection. Feeling guilt when he only asks for a simple kiss.

Sam chuckles lightly. “Only if you don’t change the topic next time.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that. He cups Sam’s face without a second thought softly with his Vibranium hand and kisses him with only a grunt in response to the other male. Gently at first before deepening it with a neediness that is borderline touch starved. Sam holds on tightly to Bucky’s arm, letting the other man lead. He kisses like some romantic idiot from a cheap romance movie. But it’s perfect for Sam.

And if this eases the pain a little in the soldier’s mind. If it helps him navigate his words, or just simply makes him feel better in that moment alone. Then Sam would allow himself to be the distraction to the nightmares.

-

:3

[ichorai]

stitched ; sam wilson.

pairing ; sam wilson x super soldier!reader (gender neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; “I just worry about you—I know you can handle yourself, seeing as you’re all enhanced and whatnot, but… well, super soldiers can still bleed out, too.”

words ; 1.1k

themes ; fluff, very mild angst

warnings / includes ; a bit suggestive by the end, mild cursing, blood/injury/stitches, reader is nearly as old as bucky lol, bucky makes an appearance, sam is just a big old worrywart :(

main masterlist.

“Ow—Sam, that fuckin’ hurts—ow!”

Your boyfriend tore his eyes away from the deep gash in your forearm arm that he was stitching up to give you a mildly stern look. “It won’t hurt if you stop squirming around. In fact, this never would’ve happened if you hadn’t gone on that mission, like Steve warned you not to. You’ve got too much history with these folks—it’s dangerous for both you and everyone else on the team. Sit still for a sec and let me do my job, okay?”

Huffing, you slumped back into the sofa, using your free hand to frustratedly pull at your face, still bloody and caked with grime from the mission. You grimaced. A steaming hot shower sounded more than appealing right about now—along with a nice, long nap right after. Sam went back to sewing you up, grip a little tighter than necessary on your wrist.

“Why are you being so dramatic?” you asked him, shifting so that your free hand would rest against his bicep, patting him gently. “It was just a shard of glass—”

He didn’t spare you a glance, snorting as he shook his head. “A shard of glass from when a super soldier threw you through a skyscraper’s window, sure. You could’ve died.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t—I’m a super soldier too, Sam. And Bucky caught me, remember?” you gently replied. Carefully, you moved your hand upwards to cradle his face, thumb smoothing over his stubbled jaw. Sam paused in his suturing to look at you, his dark eyes wavering for a moment upon seeing your soft smile. “I’m fine, see? This’ll be completely healed over in two days’ time, just watch.”

The man in front of you squared his jaw and went on to finish the last of the stitches, neatly tying it off and placing the needle and thread away to the side. 

“It could’ve been a lot worse,” Sam said, slightly less stiff. His hand came up to lay over yours on his face, pulling your fingers forward to plant a soft kiss against your knuckles, before holding them close to his chest. “I just worry about you—I know you can handle yourself, seeing as you’re all enhanced and whatnot, but… well, super soldiers can still bleed out, too.” 

Chest tightening, you leaned closer to him, pressing a chaste kiss right beside his nose, and rested your forehead over his, noses bumping against one another. He smelled of earthy smoke and that citrus bodywash of yours he always stole, and something else just entirely him. You inhaled deeply, ignoring the burning pain within the side of your ribcage as you did so. “I know,” you whispered. After a brief moment of silence, you told him, “Thank you—for the stitches and the mother henning. Though, I could do with a little bit less of the latter.”

Wary of your freshly-sown injury, he tugged you closer, winding his arms around you in a sweet embrace. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled into your hair, littering feathery kisses along your temple. Even quieter, he tacked on, “I love you. Even though you’re, like, a million years old.”

“I’m only a hundred and five,” you gasped, abruptly pulling away to smack at his chest. “That’s younger than Bucky!” 

“Oh, yeah, because Bucky is so young and spritely,” your boyfriend scoffed in response. 

“Right, and we’re the one who chose to be cryogenically put to sleep and trained to be a killing machine throughout the decades,” you sarcastically bit out, though your tone lacked any real bite to it. 

Suddenly, said super soldier strode through the open doorway, crossing his arms as a playful, light smile curled at the corner of his lips. “My ears are burning,” he said, sending you a knowing look as you sheepishly pulled away from Sam. “You guys talkin’ about me?”

“Just about which nursing home we should throw you into,” you snarked, which earned you a guffaw of laughter and a proud high-five from Sam. 

Rolling his eyes, Bucky made his way over, throwing himself onto the couch beside you. “Tell me, what ever happened to respect your elders?” He turned his attention to your wound, features visibly softening. “You okay? Took quite a hit out there.”

“Just fine, Buck,” you reassured him, nudging him with a grateful grin. “I would be a gross sludge of mushy roadkill if it wasn’t for you.”

Sam made a disgruntled noise at your choice of words, but the two of you ignored him.

Your old friend smiled at you, then grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “You guys down to watch a movie or somethin’? Steve told me that Star Wars was pretty good. Ever watched that, Y/N?”

“Nope,” you quipped, blanching at the memory of your growing list of movies to catch up on. “Sorry, Bucky, I’m completely joed. I gotta hit the showers—get all this crusty blood off of me. I’m down to watch it with you tomorrow, though.” 

Nodding in understanding, Bucky shooed you away when you planted a sloppy kiss to his cheek and cuffed him in the shoulder, sauntering away with a laugh. He wiped your kiss away with the back of his hand, before settling further into the couch and flicking through the channels.

“Alright, man,” said Sam after a moment, dusting his pants off and patting Bucky’s knee. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a rendezvous with a certain super soldier in the shower.”

Absent-mindedly, Bucky waved him away as well, mumbling a goodbye under his breath.

It was only as Sam was heading over to the bathroom, his shirt already in the process of being tugged off, did Bucky register what he was saying.

“Ew! Did you really have to tell me that? You guys are gross!” groaned Bucky, pulling a face at the thought. The rest of his complaints fell beneath his breathy grumbles, too quiet for Sam to pick up on. 

Sam could only snort in amusement at that, before swinging the bathroom door open to see you brushing your teeth by the sink, bits of minty foam gathered by the corners of your lips. He enthusiastically greeted you with an affectionate kiss to your cheek, accompanied by a pair of hands suggestively wandering down to your hips. 

[lunarbuck]

Naughty List

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

wc: 1.4k

summary: You and Sam make your way to the top of Santa's Naughty List.

warnings: fluff, holidays, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), swearing, pet names (baby, Sugar)

a/n: This is my secret Santa gift for the lovely and amazing @late-to-the-party-81 as part of the 'Tis the Season to be Thot-y Challenge!! I hope you enjoy it :) I had so so so much fun writing it <3 Also, this is. my first time writing a Sam Wilson-centered fic; I hope I did him justice

⭐️ happy holidays ⭐️

Dialogue prompt: Santa doesn't need to know about this

Festive Device: Roaring fireplace

full masterlist | my ao3

You and Sam climb out of Steve’s car and wave your goodbyes as he pulls out of your driveway. Sam’s arm wraps around your waist, tugging you close.

Together, the two of you make your way into the house and out of the snow. It falls gently in the quiet of the night, landing softly on your jacket and in your hair. You weren’t sure if there would be snow this year, but you’re happy to have a white Christmas.

Sam takes your coat once you’re inside, and you smile at the chivalrous gesture. He never fails to treat you like the queen he claims you are.

“That was quite the party,” Sam says as you plop down onto the plush couch in the living room. Instead of joining you, he kneels in front of the fireplace and makes a fire. Even though he’s wearing long sleeves, you can see his muscles moving in his back. Your fingers itch to feel them, to soothe any sore spots.

Sam must feel your eyes on him because he gives you a glance, one that tells you just how much he likes when you look at him like that. You wink, and he laughs, going back to his task of lighting the fire. 

When he’s done, Sam walks over to the couch and sits beside you, tugging you into his embrace. He’s warm, and the fire’s heat fills the room, creating a cozy atmosphere.

With the snow falling outside and the fire roaring, it really feels like Christmas. Sam’s festive sweater certainly helps, though you’d taunted him mercilessly about it before the party. You’ll never admit it to him, but he can pull off anything, even an ugly Christmas sweater.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Sam asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You snuggle closer to him and breathe in his perfect scent.

“I’m just happy I get to spend Christmas with you,” you reply. And it’s true; you are so happy about that. Time with Sam is never guaranteed, what with his job and all, so any time you get with him is treasured. 

Sam shifts you in his arms, so you’re curled up on his lap, and he looks down at you with those big beautiful puppy dog eyes. “I’m happy too.” He leans down, and kisses you gently, making sure you know just how happy he is, just how cared for you are.

Sam’s passion and kindness practically ooze from his pores, but it’s even clearer just how good of a man he is when he’s kissing you, when he’s making you feel oh so loved. 

He plays you like a fiddle, letting his hands roam over your body, feeling you beneath his calloused fingers. You melt into his touch, fully at mercy to his ministrations. It’s so easy to get lost in him, in his smell, in the way he makes you feel. 

Sam’s hands find your legs, and he adjusts you so that your legs are wrapped around his torso. He stands, easily lifting you with him in the movement. He walks over to the rug in front of the fireplace and gently lowers you both to the ground.

Seated on top of Sam, you can feel his erection pressing against your center. You gently grind against him, your hips moving as if of their own volition. Sam groans beneath you, fingers making their way into your hair, tugging it lightly. 

He pulls away for a moment, eyes transfixed on your lips, now swollen from his passionate kisses. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. The fire illuminates his skin with a beautiful warmth while simultaneously casting shadows across his face that highlight his strong features. 

“Sam,” you say quietly, drawing his eyes up to yours.

“Fuck, baby, you can’t say my name like that,” he groans, shifting his hips to grind against you again. Your hands grip his shoulders as pleasure shoots through you. He holds you close as he settles your back against the carpet, his body crowding yours.

“We’re gonna crush the presents,” you giggle, your head bumping one of the wrapped gifts beneath the tree.

“You’re the only present I want,” Sam says, sitting up. “You gonna let me unwrap you?” He asks, fingers already playing with the button of your pants. You nod, and in an instant, he’s tugging your clothes off of you.

The heat of the fire is nothing compared to the heat of Sam’s eyes on your skin. He looks at you as if you were sent to Earth just for him, as if you’re the only thing in the universe for him.

Sam strips himself of his own clothes, putting on a show for your hungry eyes. You devour every inch of him, his soft skin, his perfect physique. 

You watch as Sam presses kisses to your breasts and down your abdomen, gently nipping at your skin, causing you to gasp lightly. Every time you make a sound, his eyes flick up to yours. There’s a mischievous look there, one that you know will only lead to good things.

Sam’s gorgeous mouth is just about to dip down to where you want him when he stops, letting his breath fan over your clit. Your hips cant toward his lips, silently begging for him to keep going.

“So needy, baby,” he mutters under his breath as he watches you squirm. 

“Please, Sam,” you beg, voice on the verge of being a whine.

“Please what, baby?” he teases, sucking a mark into your inner thigh. “Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck, Sam, I need you so bad,” you moan, trying not to close your legs around his head. “I need you to eat me out.”

Sam smiles up at you when you finally get the words out. “How could I ever say no to you?” he muses before dropping his head and finally giving you the contact you’ve been craving.

He feasts on you, ravages you with vigor. Your hands grip the carpet beneath you, chest heaving with breathy moans. 

Sam works you up to your orgasm so quickly that it practically blinds you. Pleasure rips through you as electricity shoots down your spine. You come on a loud moan that only urges Sam on further. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet,” he whispers into your pussy, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit before licking his way up your body.

When Sam’s face is back in line with yours, you lift your chin to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. 

“So naughty, Sam. What would Santa say?” Sam sits up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You let him, practically a rag-doll under his touch. He lines his cock up with your pussy and drags it up and down, bumping your clit.

Sam presses inside of you excruciatingly slowly, making you feel every beautiful inch of his fantastic cock.

“Santa doesn’t need to know about this, baby.” And with that, he’s thrusting inside of you at a pace that makes you see stars. All you can do is hold on, taking everything he gives you.

Sam’s hands find your tits, groping you in an almost pornographic way, but it just fuels the fire in your belly. Everything Sam does just turns you on more; there’s nothing this man could do that you wouldn’t find sexy or a turn-on. He’s Mr. Perfect in every way.

“Oh God, Sam,” you moan as he brings you right back to the brink of orgasm. 

“Come on, Sugar, give it to me.” The strain in his voice alerts you that he’s close, and just knowing that sends you over the edge. You feel yourself clamp down on Sam’s cock as he picks up his pace, chasing his own orgasm.

Sam moans your name as he comes, dropping his forehead to yours as he comes down from the high. “I love you so much, baby,” he whispers, kissing you sweetly. How this man can be so dirty but such a gentleman all at the same time always amazes you.

“I love you too, Sammy,” you reply.

A moment later, Sam rolls off of you and makes his way to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth to clean you up with. When he’s done, he tugs a blanket off the couch and pulls you in close, holding you in his arms.

As the fire roars, you snuggle into Sam’s chest, loving the warmth he surrounds you with. Nothing has ever made as much sense as this right here.

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general tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14

[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! 💛

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[megamindsecretlair]

It Started With a Whisper - Chapter 9

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Some sentences are intentional AAVE. ANGST. FILTH. Cursing, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering (fem receiving), PIV, slight cum play, possession kink if you squint, pet names, referring to male anatomy as "he", Dom Sam, Hurt/Comfort, super fluffy towards the end. Sorry if I missed some!

Summary: You are the front desk clerk who started a few months ago and you somehow managed to snag Sam Wilson, the handsome and sweet trauma counselor. Sam wakes up with only ONE thing on his mind.

Word Count: 3,382k

Masterlist

A/N: I am SO sorry this took forever. I missed yall LOL. Sam wasn't speaking to me and I went down some They Cloned Tyrone brainrot tunnels LOL. Boyega...mmm.. Anyway! Hopefully, we can more or less get back on schedule. Sam woke me and reader up on some bullshit! Could not concentrate at work because I was frothing to get this out. So enjoy this pure filth. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I love hearing your thoughts!

Taglist: @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby @leahnicole1219 @capswife @anghstybean @targaryenvampireslayer @sheabutterbabes @browngirldominion

A tight coiling in your belly forced you to wakefulness. You moaned as you woke up. The raspiness of your voice grated over your ears. Another swipe to your clit made you twitch with a hiss. 

Sam moaned and kissed the side of your thigh. “Mornin’ beautiful,” he said.

His tongue swiped against you and you scrunched your face, unable to handle the sensation. “Sam?” You asked. But his heavenly tongue worked against you and you ended up moaning his name.

“Fuck, say it again just like that,” he murmured against your incredibly wet pussy. 

“Unf, oh god, Sam? What happened to the go-ahead from the doctor?” You asked. Your legs were pushed up to your stomach. You had gone to sleep the night before in one of Sam’s shirts and your panties. He had groaned and said you weren’t playing fair. 

You merely told him that it was encouragement. Wishful thinking for the clean bill of health from his doctor.

“Went yesterday,” he said. He licked you like you were an ice cream cone on the hottest day of the summer. Your hand flew to his head, pressing him closer. Now that you were awake, you felt everything.

Your body was like a live wire, responding to every lick and suckle. “Wha- fuck - why yesterday?” You asked. 

“Couldn’t wait,” he said. His words were sloppy and slurred. You looked at him. He was devoted to eating you out. He moaned and returned to your pussy, flicking that sensitive little nub with his tongue. 

“So why–?” Your body collapsed as you came, a slow unfurling of wave after wave of pleasure. Your legs shook and trapped Sam’s head in between your legs. He had pulled your panties to the side so he played with the damp material while you came down.

Sam wiped his chin on your thigh then licked up whatever remained behind. He grinned at you and you swore your heart stopped. “You do not know how fuckin’ long these two weeks have been for me,” he said.

“Didn’t you go a year before we had sex?” You asked.

“I have never felt like this with anyone else,” he said. He kissed your thigh and hummed. “Every piece of you I want it tenfold.”

You sighed and opened your mouth to say something. He returned to eating you out, suckling and running his tongue all over your pussy. He went slower, drawing circles. You gripped his head. 

“Oh fuck! Sam!” You cried out. He felt amazing in between your legs. What a fuckin’ way to wake up! 

You felt boneless. Your free hand flopped uselessly against the bed. Clutching the bedsheets and releasing it. Sweat gathered on your brow. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned.

The second orgasm rushed through you, setting off bombs within your body. Your body detonated, splintering you in tiny shards. 

“That’s it, little one,” Sam cooed. “You’re so damn gorgeous when you cum. I wish you could see yourself,” he said.

You shook violently as you came down from this one. You pushed at Sam’s head. You were overly sensitive. If he touched you with that tongue again, you were not responsible for your actions. 

Sam chuckled as you pushed his head away. He got to his knees and crawled up your body. His hands snuck under the shirt you wore and he plucked your nipples like a guitar. You hissed and jerked. His thick fingers rolled your sensitive nipples in between his fingers. He kissed up your neck, your jaw.

Finally, his lips slanted against yours and you sighed into the kiss. You ran your hands across his bare back. He was so damn scrumptious. Sometimes, you had to take a mental step back and pinch yourself. How the hell did you get so lucky? 

Sam slipped his hand up the shirt, out of the collar, and wrapped his hand around your throat. You moaned, widening your legs so Sam could fit better. 

“All I did was dream about getting back between your legs,” he said as he placed strategic kisses on your jaw.

Was this the same man from before he went on the mission? He seemed…so different. More in control. More settled. 

“I know, you nasty ass. You were getting shot at and still managed to call me about getting back in here,” you said. You played with the edge of his briefs.

He kissed your cheek and flicked his eyes up to yours. “Wouldn’t you do everything you could to get back to heaven?” 

“Shut up! Corny ass!” You said and giggled. But deep down, your belly flipped. 

Sam kissed you, cutting off your giggles. He kissed you expertly, exactly how you needed to be kissed. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and you groaned. You whined when he bit down, tugging on your lip. You felt it like a tug in your pussy. You squirmed, fresh arousal gushing between your legs. He licked the sting away.

“I’m the nasty one, but you the one making a mess,” he said. His free hand that remained on your chest now moved south. He trailed his index finger around the outer parts of your pussy lips. You felt his hand swirl around your arousal. 

“S-Sam?” You asked. You weren’t sure of your question. Sam only returned to kissing you, loving on you, while one finger continued to play around the edges of your pussy. He seemed like he was going to finally push in further and play with your clit. Perhaps dip his finger into the core of you. 

He did none of those things. He ran that single finger up and down, getting to the outer rim of your entrance before retreating up and down your slit. 

Your legs were shaking noodles. Your eyes were closed trying to process all of the different sensations. He was trying to kill you. Kill you with seduction. His hand squeezed on your throat and you moaned. You were sure he felt your clit throb. It ached. Bordering on painful. 

A puddle formed underneath you by how wet you got. You lost track of time. Not caring how many hours or days passed as Sam edged you. Your teeth began to chatter as he made out with you. 

“You okay, little one?” He mocked. Knowing fuck well you were anything but. 

“Sam, please. Mercy,” you begged. 

“Oh! You want mercy?” He asked.

You looked at him and nodded. You gave him puppy eyes, rolling your bottom lip in between your teeth. 

“Aww, poor little one. You think that’ll work on me?” He asked.

You gasped and he chuckled at your expression. He kissed his way to your ear. His warm breath fanned across your neck, tickling you. But you were too far gone to laugh. You were wound tight. Needing to cum but he wasn’t letting you. 

“Sam, please.” You placed your hand on top of his, but he wasn’t letting go of you any time soon. It took tremendous effort to say those two little words. One touch, that was all you needed. 

“So, which is it? You push my head away and now you want me to keep going,” he said. He hummed as he thought. His finger kept up his torture and every now and then, he squeezed your neck to make sure you were still with him. 

He took his finger off of you and brought it to your lips. “Suck,” he said. 

You opened your mouth and sucked your juices from his fingers. You kept your eyes on him so he could see the raw hunger in your eyes. You would agree to sell your left kidney if it meant he’d let you cum. He groaned watching you. 

He dropped his head into the crook of your neck. He placed a sloppy kiss there. His tongue brushed over your pulse point and you jerked. 

“I need…” 

“Mhm. I know what you need. You gonna stop pushing me away?” He asked.

“Feel too good,” you moaned around his fingers. 

“I know, I know,” he cooed and licked your neck again. Your legs jerked, wanting to close them, to get some friction. But he was poised in between your thighs and there was no way to close them. You were stuck, with no friction and a demonic man who didn’t want to let you cum. 

He chuckled darkly. “Get these wet for me, I’ll stop teasing,” he said. He pushed a second finger into your mouth. You sucked on him like you wanted to do his dick. You swirled your tongue around the tip of his fingers.

He chuckled. “Keep on and see if I won’t keep you here forever,” he said. He withdrew his fingers. Wasting no time, he pushed them inside of you and you cried out. 

“P-promise?” You asked.

He kissed you and pumped his fingers inside of you, pistoning them. Your pussy squelched loudly in the room. The wet smack only turned you on more. 

“Don’t test me, little one,” he said. 

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you came immediately. It was like he set fireworks off inside of you. You twitched, your body going boneless once more. Sparks set off behind your eyes, random flashes of light behind your eyelids. You were yanked from your body, torn from it, torn inside out, and put right back together. 

“So fuckin’ gorgeous. So fucking pretty. Need you,” Sam murmured plenty of sweet nothings against your throat, kissing and licking around his hand still around your throat. You panted as you calmed down. 

Your eyes stared unfocused at his ocean blue walls. You had no words. No rational thought in your head beyond wow. 

Just a few weeks ago, he had you mumbling incoherently off of a few orgasms. You were approaching that limit and you weren’t sure if you could take more. Sam hadn’t even entered you yet. You felt rolling waves of heat radiating off of his skin. His covered dick strained against your thigh. 

You licked your lips as if you could already taste him. “Need you, need you so bad,” you slurred against his lips. His tongue delved inside and you moaned at the mingled taste of you and him. 

“I don’t think I could last that long, little one,” he said, his lips dancing across yours. 

He set off a dangerous fever beneath your skin. You were driven mad with need. With urges. The urge to touch and seek and make him feel half as good as he did with you. You pushed forward, somehow finding the strength to move.

You pushed him onto his back and crawled on top of him. You kissed down his chest, far too interested in getting to him that you didn’t want to tease. You didn’t want to play games. Your hands greedily pushed his briefs down, freeing his bobbing thick dick. 

He chuckled at your enthusiasm. “He missed you too, girl,” he said.

You swallowed him down in one fell swoop and his hips bucked off of the bed. “Shit!” 

You slobbered on him, getting him nice and wet before going to town on him. Sucking him down as you teased his tip. You braced yourself on his thick thighs and bobbled your head up and down, taking him as far down as you could. 

Your tongue played with the head, juicy leaks of pre-cum filling your mouth. You swallowed that down. You were like a hungry gremlin, sustaining off of his moans and hisses and “oh fucks”. 

His hands slipped into your hair, pulling you closer. Making you take him faster. “That’s it, little one. So good. Mouth feels so good. Oh fuck, show me you missed me,” he moaned.

Did he have no earthly fucking clue how much you missed him? Missed this? You, the girl who kept everyone at arm’s length, were begging for his company. Not in so many words, but…shit, did you need to prove it to him? How lonely these weeks had been? 

Ariel was a godsend. But you had to lay up at night, worrying your guts out that he was in danger. You barely left his side since he’s been back, opting to stay over at his place longer and longer each night. To the point that he would chuckle and say it was too late for you to drive so you might as well stay over.

Did he not hear what you meant when you said he was yours now? There was no hemming and hawing. There was no going back on your word. He was it for you. You were ruined for any other man. You didn’t want anyone but him. 

You poured all of that frustration and eagerness and feelings into slobbering on his dick. Your wet slurps were words you couldn’t speak. Your added hands to his shaft and balls were feelings you couldn’t name. Your hums and moans on his dick were binding ropes that you twirled around you two. 

“I wanna cum in you,” he moaned. 

Your pussy clenched around nothing hearing those filthy words. But you kept going. Kept working him. Kept reaching for every sigh, hiss, moan, and sound from that sexy ass throat. You wanted it all. You wanted him. You sucked hard and he unloaded into your mouth. His hot, pulsing cum splashed down your throat and you drank him down. Drank every last drop. 

He shivered underneath you. You felt the muscles in his thighs bunch and contract. You released him with a wet pop. 

He lazily got to his elbows and looked at you. His face was bunched as if he were mad at you. In a short amount of time, you were getting used to his expressions. Getting used to how he projected his thoughts onto his face. He did it on purpose, to let you in. You knew that he had to fight to close that side of him off while away on mission. You saw his face on the news.

This was not anger. It was like he understood what you were trying to do. The way you were trying to wrap him in your heart and keep him safe forever. The way you were trying to write your true feelings in the seams of his soul. 

He took off his underwear completely, chucking it to the floor. He helped you pull off your shirt and motioned for you to kick off your underwear as well. He scooted up the bed and motioned for you to follow. You straddled him and he groaned. He was still hard. 

He lifted you and then you sank down slowly onto his length. He stuffed you completely, bringing him home in a way you couldn’t put into words. When he was fully seated, he rubbed your arms, sides. The underswell of your boobs. He watched you as he did so, his head crooked to the side. 

You relaxed more and more into him. You didn’t realize you were so tense. His soothing hands worked magic on your skin. Lulling you. You swayed a bit and leaned forward, resting your hands on his shoulders for balance. It brought you closer to him, your nipples rubbing against his chest. 

It also put you at a new angle and his dick twitched inside of you. You shared a groan and giggled at it. He kissed you lazily, rolling his lips softly against yours. It was at odds at how he revved your engines earlier, you were getting whiplash. 

“I’m right here, little one,” he whispered against your lips. 

“I know, Sam,” you said. You opened your eyes and looked at him. He stared at you as well. 

“I mean it. I’m right here. Feel me, touch me. I’m right in front of you,” he said. 

You looked at him like he lost his mind. Of course he was right in front you. You felt his dick twitch every so often. He braced his feet against the bed and moved his hips, moving you along his hardened length. You moaned and bit your lip. You were so full of him and wrapped up in him. You circled your hands around his neck and he chuckled. He kissed your lips again. 

“Baby, I’m right here. I didn’t die. I came home to you,” he said. 

You reared up, leaning away. He wrapped his hands around your waist and held you against him. “Sam..” 

Your panicked voice was new to you. Sam made soothing shushing noises and rubbed your back. 

“Feel me, baby. Please. Don’t back away,” he whispered. He moved his hips and moved within you, letting you feel every slow glide of him. 

You relaxed against him, putting your head on his chest. You touched him like he asked, running your hands along old scars, new scars, his thick biceps. His broad shoulders. Along his close cut fade. 

You moaned softly at the way he moved, how amazing he felt. If only you could stay this connected. 

“Sam,” you said. Tears gathered in your eyes. A knot of tension untangled from your chest. Each string slowly unfurled, loosened, and the relief was staggering. 

“That’s it, baby. I’m here, in flesh and blood. I promise you, I will keep promising you that I will come home to you. I will never be where you can’t touch me. Where I can’t hold you. Where I won’t let you know every single day that I’m yours. I’m safe. I’m here.” 

You softly cried against him as he pulled another orgasm from you. This one was soft, tender. An acknowledgement that he wrung anything he wished from you. There was nothing you wouldn’t give him. It should scare you. You’d known him a few months and only started this a few weeks ago. But you felt nothing but safe and supported. 

You brought your head up and kissed him. He kissed you back. There was no hurry. Because he was right. He was right there, beneath your fingertips. You could touch him whenever you wanted. Feel the strength of him. Listen to his heart beat. Hear his breaths. Feel the wind fan across your neck. 

Sam groaned, releasing his climax. You continued to make out, memorizing his soft lips. The way he sighed. How warm his hands felt against your waist and back. He rubbed your back and looked into your eyes.

“How you feeling?” He asked.

“How did you know?” You asked.

He smiled. “I know you. I don’t know how. But I know you,” he said. He kissed your cheek. 

“I was so scared, Sam,” you said. 

“I know. I’m sorry. Things moved so fast. But can you understand why I needed to?” He asked. He glanced at you, communicating too many things at once. You placed your fingers against his lips.

You smiled. Kissed his lips with your fingers in between. “I do understand why, Sam. I’m not asking you to choose. I know what I’m getting myself into with you. You’re a great man,” you said. 

He chuckled. “You make me want to be a better man.” 

“You already are, I promise,” you said. You put your head on his chest. You took deep breaths to smell him. To ingrain his scent in your nostrils. His heart thumped rhythmically. 

It beckoned you to sleep. Sam would still be here beneath you all night if you wanted. You knew that in your bones. Unfortunately, you couldn’t fall asleep like that. He left you to get a towel and clean you up. You groaned about the huge wet spot on the other side of the bed.

“I’ll lay right there. You get some sleep,” he said. 

“No, it’s okay. I made it,” you said. 

“Aht, save your strength, little one. You’re going to need it,” he said. He tapped your nose and followed it with a sweet kiss. He climbed into bed on the other side, scooting against you and tucking you against him.

“Are you threatening me with a good time?” You asked sleepily.

“Got damn right. I got a lot to make up for. Some payback for you trying to suck the soul outta me,” he said.

You giggled and fell asleep to the sweet cadence of his heart.

Masterlist | Chapter 8 | Chapter 10

[writing-for-marvel]

These are all the fics I've read in May. Please go show all these amazing writers some much deserved love! Also please remember to read the warnings for each individual fic

🔥 - smut | 💗 - fluff I 💧 - angst | 😈 - dark

Dividers by @saradika

Bucky Barnes

🔥 Headstrong by @flordeamatista

💗🔥 Bedtime Story by @jobean12-blog

🔥 Neighbourly Love by @/jobean12-blog

💗 Bucky Barnes x reader by @maivolpe

🔥 Needy by @targaryenvampireslayer

💗🔥 Love From Afar by @bluehourbucky

💗🔥 Bucky makes sure you know you're his first choice by @like-what-the-fuck-scoob

💗 Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together by @golden-barnes

💗 Dance with the Devil by @rookthorne

💗 Imagine Bucky calling you at work by @lives-in-midgard

💗 Booked on a Feeling by @intrepidacious

💗 Morning Workout by @sparklefics

Steve Rogers

💗🔥 The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are by @buckets-and-trees

🔥 Give You a Ride by @sstan-hoe

💧💗 His Radiant Sunflower by @witchywithwhiskey

💗 The Berry Sweetest by @brandycranby

Sam Wilson

💧💗🔥 Haven by @fluffyprettykitty

💗 Surprise by @/targaryenvampireslayer

Adam Warlock

🔥 A-Z NSFW Headcanon by @tom-whore-dleston

🔥 Soft Dom Adam by @inklore

Joaquin Torres

💗🔥 Expression by @/fluffyprettykitty

Bruce Banner

💗 Cuddles are the Cure by @late-to-the-party-81

Ari Levinson

🔥 Like Jello by @/late-to-the-party-81

💧💗 Post-Nightmare Cuddles by @ronearoundblindly

🔥 Like a Broken Record by @howdoyousleep3

Ransom Drysdale

💧 Occupy My Brain by @/intrepidacious

💗🔥 Insomnia by @/brandycranby

💧💗 One Night by @honeybloomss

Andy Barber

🔥 On Your Knees by @flwrsforu

💗 Pros and Cons by @navybrat817

Joel Miller

💗🔥 A Sweeter Place by @/flordeamatista

💧💗🔥 Wild for You by @/jobean12-blog

[wwilsonbarness]

masterlist

bucky barnes

sam wilson

sambucky

[mlmxreader]

All Over Again | Sam Wilson x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Sam Wilson "You're all I want" Person A realising they love Person B over something small Journalist!reader ( please not a gossip journalist if possible) ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Sam have a hard time not falling in love with each other over and over and over again.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing

↳ word count: 1038

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Sam loved you for being an investigative journalist working with Eddie Brock; you would do anything and everything to find out the truth, and it didn’t matter how low you had to go.

His proudest moment, as your boyfriend, was when he witnessed you break a political scandal which led to several politicians being completely suspended due to their extreme corruption and disdain for the people; Sam still smiled when he thought about it.

He might have sorted some high profile things out as Captain America, but he gained attention over his deeds - you didn’t. You did it all for little more than a liveable wage.

But the tenacity, the determination, the charm, the intelligence and the sheer willpower it took to get to the bottom of an investigation - they were his favourite traits of yours, and he could never deny that even if he was somehow forced to.

Plus… you did take the most flattering pictures of him whenever he was in a story for your side - which was quite often; unlike the old Cap, Sam wasn’t as keen on interviews and journalists and the glitz and glamour of being a superhero. He just wanted to help people and to make a change.

He spoke to Eddie Brock quite a lot, and was tolerable of being interviewed by him but only because of his proximity to you. 

But it was when Sam realised that, every Saturday evening, the newspaper’s website allowed people to send in little comments and opinion pieces that would be read live, that he came up with an idea; he knew that you were working late on the latest case - one that you refused to bring home, which told him all that he needed to ever know about it.

So he grabbed his phone, smiling a little to himself as he waited for the email to appear on the screen before he typed out a little message. It would have meant nothing to anybody else - especially given the alias he used - but he knew that you would know when you eventually saw it or heard it.

Plus, he hoped that it would keep your morale up a little bit whilst working; you always did it for him, at least. Always sending him little voice messages whenever he was doing his duty as Captain America, usually just things to make him smile and to keep him going until he was able to come home.

More often than not, they were also accompanied with a little typed out message explaining just how much you loved him, had hope in him, and just the little things like that. You always relied on the little things, like texting him an orange emoji for weeks after he had accidentally slipped on a peel.

Sam didn’t mind waiting up for you most nights, but he was a little more tired than usual thanks to his most recent outing as Captain America, so he put his phone on charge for the night, and he decided that he would see your reaction when he got up if you weren’t around.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and he made sure to keep with the check-in and text you a little eagle emoji before he did completely abandon the phone.

Ever since you first got together, the little eagle emoji had always been used to say that either you were going to bed or he was, and you would reply in the morning if you weren’t together again by then; it worked well enough, although you had worried Sam a fair few times when you had forgotten to text him one and hadn’t answered his texts or calls.

If he wasn’t a superhero, he wouldn’t have cared, but he knew the enemies he had, and he knew how they would have just loved to have gotten their claws into the love of his life. 

In all honesty, Sam didn’t remember when he had fallen asleep, but he did stir when he felt his shoulders being poked and shoved; so he rolled over, and immediately smiled when he saw you.

A loud and eye watering yawn leaving him as he tried to wake up just a little bit more.

“Hey, baby.”

“I saw your message,” you chuckled. “You really know how to make me fall in love with you all over again, don’t ya?”

Sam shrugged as he spread his legs and opened his arms, letting you plant yourself between them and wriggle around until your head was on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, laughing at how your legs dangled over the end of the bed.

“I do my best. I’m not gonna ask about work, I know you wouldn’t have stayed behind unless it was bad.”

You kissed the spot just above his heart so gently. “Thank you…”

Sam’s face fell for a moment as he studied you and allowed the feeling to fully sink in that you were in bed with him; his heart pounded harshly as his hands shook and his temperature rose, his nose and ears especially felt as if they were on fire. He relaxed completely, and slowly began to smile again.

“Hey,” you hummed, gently drumming your fingers on his chest, bringing up a fuzzy feeling inside of it. “You okay?”

He nodded, licking his lips as he let out a short, soft breath. “I just realised that I am completely in love with you.”

You grinned, moving around until you could gently kiss his lips. “Well, that’s perfect - you’re all I want, you’re head over heels… we’re a great match.”

He hummed in agreement, waiting for you to settle back down with your legs hanging over the end of the bed and your head on his chest before he dared to hold you tightly against him; for a moment, he just listened to your breathing, smiling to himself as he realised that you were falling asleep.

But it wasn’t such an easy thing to fight off as he resisted the urge to grin and jump up and down; all over again, Sam had completely fallen in love with you, and all because you had done something as little as kissing his heart. 

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare whatsoever, doesn't matter how big or small, maybe consider donating to help Hani get his family out of Gaza - they need all the funds they can get, and every single donation is more than genuinely needed.

[sweetcocopowder]

For your milestone can i order a sambucky heart fill confess with the prompts, another nightmare and can i kiss you.

I found your blog recently from the cyberpunk fics so to know you also write mcu stuff is rad. ✌️ you write excellently man.

Prompt 5 | SamBucky

Synopsis: Bucky wakes from a nightmare and Sam is there to help him through it.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Trauma.

Notes: thank you so much. i haven't written Sambucky stuff in ages but i reckon i cooked up something fucking gawd.

For once in Sam’s life, he was the only one up in the shared apartment. It’s quiet in the place but New York never sleeps as everyone says. Which is true. The hum of cars can be heard through the shutters and the thin walls. It’s small, but it’s comfortable. And cheap enough because hero work doesn’t really pay the best. Or at all.

It had taken a lot of convincing to make the former Winter Soldier move in with him. Bucky had been struggling with keeping his apartment. Rent in the great city of New York isn’t cheap. And being in between transfers with his veteran payments, he isn’t all too finically stable. It’s a lot of court cases to convince the Government that he isn’t going to go deadly assassin again after his time in Wakanda.

Sam nurses a two-litre bottle of orange juice, chugging down as much as he can. He knows for a fact that Bucky will want some of the stuff in the morning, but he couldn’t give too damns at the moment. The bastard ate his leftover muffins that Sarah had given him. So, this is pay back. Even though Bucky didn’t know Sam was keeping those aside for himself. Orange juice can be bought. Sarah’s muffins can’t be made.

At first, the muffled shout that hits Sam’s ears is soft enough that he thinks it’s some crack job outside. Shouting about random shit or that Thanos is upon them again. But when the next shout comes, Sam is quick to put down the juice.

He walks to Bucky’s door a little too urgently for his own good. No more noise comes, but he already has a feeling that Bucky has woken himself up. He hesitates to knock, his knuckles hovering over the wood.

He’s aware of Bucky’s nightmares. The ones that don’t seem to leave no matter how much he talks about them or opens up. Some things don’t leave. Especially with the shit that Bucky has gone through in his life. He can’t blame the man and he doesn’t judge him for it either. Sam finally knocks, softly as to not scare the century old man.

“Bucky?” Sam calls just loud enough to be heard through the door.

There’s shuffling on the other side before the door opens up a tad. The New York lights shine in through open windows, illuminating Bucky as a dark shadow peeping through a hand width crack. Even in the dark though, Sam can deep just how tired Bucky is. His short hair spikes up every which way and he only wears a bear of boxers.

“Why are you up?” Bucky asks with a furrowed expression.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sam lies. “Another nightmare?”

The vet looks Sam up and down, but not in a threatened way. There’s so much going on his mind right now that Sam can almost hear his thoughts. He opens the door a little further, looking past Sam to try and figure out just why he’s up so late. It’s close to two in the morning.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asks as he leans against the door frame.

This isn’t out of the norm. Getting stuff like this out of Bucky was almost like dealing with a child at first. But Sam had patience and it won over. He hasn’t done a group therapy with other soldiers dealing with their own ptsd in months. But he thinks he’s alright at the moment with helping Bucky. It makes him feel full. Despite how odd that sounds.

Bucky’s eyes flicker to the ground for a moment before he opens the door wider. He lets Sam in with a grumbled, “Come in then.” He doesn’t close the door fully, leaving it open a crack.

Sam makes himself at home by sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over to turn on the lamp. Bucky throws on a random white shirt from the ground before sitting on the bed as well. He places his face in his palms, his Vibranium arm reflecting light from the bedside lamp. Sam doesn’t pay it any attention, the awe having worn off ages ago.

“Was it the train again?” Sam asks.

“No,” Bucky shakes his head.

Sam hesitates before asking the next question. He’s read over Bucky’s reports once. Once and never again. He knows from the reports on what experimentations Hydra had put the soldier through. But hearing the stories from Bucky’s lips is enough to make Sam feel nauseous.

“Do you remember the year?” Sam asks.

He’s realized that in asking so, it seems to help ground Bucky. His memories of going in and out of cryo are so jumbled and hazy that he didn’t realize just how many years he was losing.

“I-“ Bucky pauses, “I couldn’t tell you.”

“What happened this time round?”

The vet sits up straight but doesn’t dare make eye contact with Sam. He tries to smooth out his hair but it’s too no avail. It sticks up every which way, as if his hair is still not use to being so short.

“I’ve told you how I was used to train the other super soldiers. The ones that hydra made after me,” Bucky asks rhetorically before he continues on. “There was this one in particular, I forget his name now. Gone with everything else. But he wouldn’t listen. Didn’t understand that there was no way out of this.”

“You got out,” Sam interrupts.

Bucky’s icy eyes finally glance his way. “After how many years?”

Sam only hums at that, not sure how to answer. He waits for Bucky to continue, his gaze never leaving him.

“Then finally one training session,” Bucky endures as he hunches back over, twiddling his thumbs between his knees, “he snapped. He came at me with blood lust. And with everything that was pent up, and with me being worn down and just so damn tired from all the work… he easily overcame me. He beat me bloody. Beyond bloody even. I can still remember the pain, the bruises that didn’t leave for months afterwards. Even with the serum in me, my wounds didn’t heal for weeks,” Bucky voices cracks here and there as he tries to cover it up with clearing his throat.

But Sam can see the memory playing as freshly as if it’s happening now behind those pale blue eyes. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

Sam frowns, exhaling slowly before reaching out and places a hand on the vet’s shoulder. Bucky doesn’t flinch away, instead looks to Sam like a hurt street pup.

“That pain is in the past,” Sam enquires softly. “Nothing can change that. But maybe you’re holding onto it because it’s familiar. Or because you thought you did something wrong. Maybe because you thought you could keep that man in line.”

Bucky exhales shakily, his gaze becoming long once again. “That’s the thing. I did set him in line at the end. They- They made me-” he clears his throat, looking back down at his twiddling thumbs. “They made me put him down like some dog, Sam.”

“So you think you didn’t do him just?” Sam asks, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.

The soldier shrugs softly. “I’m not sure on that. Is it bad that I think it’s more just putting him down than allowing him to become Hydra’s little plaything?”

Sam is quiet for a heartbeat, not wanting to stay silent for too long. “No. But at the same time, I don’t think you should hold yourself accountable because you were both under Hydra’s thumb. Both being played a game you didn’t you head or tail of.”

“Doesn’t change the fact I did it,” Bucky grumbles.

“But it’s the fact that you’re trying to do better on top of that, Buck.”

Bucky glances at Sam, opening his mouth to snap at him for calling him that. But he stops himself, his gaze flickering off again. A taxi horn honks loudly outside, but neither of them pays it any attention.

“Look,” Sam squeezes Bucky’s shoulder again before sliding down and grabbing onto his forearm gently. “Those things you did. That person you were. Is all gone now. Wakanda made sure of that. There’s only Bucky.”

The vet looks to Sam’s hand on his arm, a sad look coming to his eyes. But he receives a soft, sweet smile that warms Sam’s heart. He’s won tonight. Even if it’s a little victory, he’s won.

“You’re too sweet on me, Sam,” Bucky mumbles.

It seems so out of character yet not at the same time. Sam raises a brow at him, waiting for him to continue on with what else is on his mind. A warm, metal hand is placed over his own instead and Sam can feel his heart skip a beat. But he collects himself quickly.

It’s hard though when Bucky looks at him like that. With a soft smile on his lips and his warm yet icy gaze looking directly at him. He’s always had a staring problem, but Sam’s never been truly bothered by it. The soldier that Sam always sees is gone in this moment. It’s just the Bucky he’s grown to know that’s under all the fucked up shit.

“I’m going to ask you something stupid right now,” Bucky says, his voice low and barely a whisper. But Sam hears it all the same in the night.

“Go right ahead,” Sam blurts out a little too quickly.

Bucky turns to Sam a little bit more, squeezing his hand in the process.

“This might be one sided but I’ve lived too long to care,” Bucky chuckles breathlessly to himself, as if what he’s just said his humorous. Sam can’t take his eyes off him, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. “Can I, kiss you?”

Sam short circuits, staring blankly at Bucky for a tad too long. He feels his heart skip a beat again, as if he’s about to have a heart attacked or something, blinking a few times a tad shocked. The vet sighs deeply, pulling away his hand from Sam’s.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says as he looks down.

But Sam snaps out of it, grabbing onto his Vibranium arm to draw Bucky closer. He crashes their lips together a little too harshly, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t know what’s taken a hold of him, but having this, flag waving above their heads now saying it’s the all go is all Sam needed. The kiss is warm and everything Sam would have expected.

He’s seen the little flirts and flashes of who Bucky use to be in the 40’s. He’s heard Steve talk about him from before he got all jacked with super serum. And Bucky doesn’t disappoint.

Bucky pulls away first with a breathless chuckle. He holds onto Sam’s hand tightly, as if he’s afraid he’ll run away from him. But Sam is still as stiff as ice, frozen in place as he looks to Bucky as if this isn’t real. If it was this easy to shut Sam up at times he would have done this much, much sooner.

-

Hope your enjoyed this ;)

[velvetcloxds]

if you're too shy- send me a character and a scenario and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

sam wilson + fake dating bc reader's parents really just won't leave her alone or the reader really needs a plus one at her cousin's wedding and also bc the reader doesn't want to be teased about how she "can't get some"

WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR | S.W.

word count: 0.6k

warnings: two oblivious idiots, pretend sam isn't outside in the gif lol

"I'm sure they didn't mean it like that," you're pacing, missing the sympathetic smile on your best friend's lips as he watches you from your couch, cold beer in hand as he waits for a reply, knowing you're not even truly listening to him.

"Like why would they assume that I'm coming alone? Is it really that unbelievable that I could find a plus one?" you paused, eyeing Sam for his reaction, pouting at him, silently begging him to set your mind at ease. "I could, couldn't I?" his eyes were soft as he nodded at you, beer abandoned on the coffee table, hand gently taking hold of your wrist to pull you towards him.

"Of course, you could, baby," he was convincing, the friendly nickname aiding in his plea as he guided you to sit down on the table in front of him, thumb brushing over your pulse point in an attempt to keep you settled long enough to actually hear what he's saying. "Look at me," he insisted with a little scoff, waiting ever patiently for you to stop being stubborn and meet his gaze and it took a second, a minute, but you finally looked up from your knees, pout very present still as you did. "Don't let this get to you so much, you could get any guy you want if you tried."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Well, I am," he wasn't pleased with your objection, finding it very much offensive that you'd question his word when he considered himself a very honest and straightforward man, very rarely wrong but he'd never tell you that. "You want me to go with you? Haven't been to a wedding in forever, plus the world should get the chance to appreciate my dancing."

"I don't want a pitty date, Sammy," you sighed, carelessly taking his hand into your lap, fiddling with his fingers, tracing the lines on his palm, something you would've questioned in its casualty if you weren't so comfortable with him. "I want someone to want to go on a date with me because they like me, maybe cause they find me pretty."

"I like you," he argued with a scoff. "And I think you're way past pretty," he added and you were the one to scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, demanding some contradiction to his statement and receiving none as he shrugged. "Come on, you know I like seeing you all dolled up and looking fine, it'll do my ego good being seen with a stunner like you," his tone was teasing yet the way his eyes roamed your features made it clear that he was sincere. After all, you were his girl in every way but the way he wanted, his best friend, his human, the only person he'd be caught being so soft with, and even though he always thought there was more there, he wasn't going to force it, not until you showed any sign of wanting the same.

"You know my mom already thinks we're secretly hooking up," you mentioned and he shrugged again, smiling as you looked down shyly, heat rising up your neck at how casual he was being about this. "The rest of them would eat their hearts out at the sight of someone as good-looking as you walking in with me," you were starting to cave, seeing the pros to this little ruse and selfishly, you always enjoyed the way Sam pulled you just a little too close while dancing with you.

"So, you going to let me take you then? I'll buy you a corsage and everything," he offered and you laughed, not fighting against the grip that pulled you onto his lap, booping your nose as you giggled.

"That's for prom, Sammy, not for a wedding," you smiled, content as his arms wrapped around you in a platonic embrace, a comfortable position as you reached over to bring his beer back to him. "Will you go dress shopping with me too?" you quipped, watching with curious eyes as he took a slow sip, following his adam's apple as he swallowed, cursing the way it made your stomach flutter.

"Course, I will, you could give me a little fashion show while you fit them."

"Then yes, you can definitely be my date."

[mandyyvibes]

For Reasons Wretched and Divine

Chapter 6: “From Eden.”

Steve Rogers stood on his doorstep, looking at him apologetically. The pretty redhead from that first day they’d met was at his side. They both looked just a little banged up, dusty and bruised.

“Hey, man,” Sam said. It was directed at Steve, more of a question than anything.

“I’m sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.”

@catws-anniversary