#sam wilson gif imagine

[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.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Sam’s pleasant surprise when Bucky treats you gently...

The ride back home was long and quiet... too quiet. Turning to the side, Bucky noticed that you had fallen asleep along the length of the seats opposite to Sam.

While he and Sam had their asses handed to them, you and Joaquin and had been met with an enhanced human. This ended with you suffering a broken rib when deflecting an attack that was aimed at the young soldier.

When Bucky found out he was livid so Sam took point and administered a sedative to help you rest which took hold sooner than expected.

Lifting himself off the crate he was seated on, Bucky walked over to where he had tossed his jacket aside, picking it up and then approached your sleeping form. Carefully, he placed it over your shoulders to give some added comfort, despite it missing an arm sleeve.

“You really have a heart of gold under all that brood.” Sam smirked from where he watched the small exchange.

There was a small sigh from Bucky. “Before the court-mandated therapy, Y/n was the only one I warmed up to. I owe them a lot.”

~ More imagines here ~

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Midnight Rain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re an idiot.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It keeps us alive.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

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

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

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

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

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

"You're wrong."

"Why else-"

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

“Do you honestly believe that?”

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

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

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

"Yeah, I mean that."

--

3 Years Earlier - Somewhere in Scotland

“Just let me do the talking, okay?”

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes narrow at Natasha, "Which favor?"

"Budapest."

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t bother to reply.

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

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

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

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

“For you and me both,” you quip.

“You know, you’re kind of a jackass.”

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

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

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

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

"We're not friends."

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

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

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

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

"You're not friends?”

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

"What?"

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

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

"Tonight."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where you gonna go?"

"I have other places."

"By yourself?"

"Typically."

"Why don't you stay with us?"

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

It made the moment you walked away hurt even more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

1 Year Earlier - Somewhere in Eastern Europe

“Stop watching me sleep.”

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

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

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

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

“I miss you,” Sam whines.

“I’m right here.”

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

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

“How could I forget?”

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

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

“About?” you urge.

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

Your smile slips from your face. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He deserved more. More than you would ever be. 

--

6 Months Ago - A Bar in New York City

"You don't have to do this."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

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

"What are you talking about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

"I'm working, Sam."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because I'm in love with you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you know about what I want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

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

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

[fluffyprettykitty]

SELENE‼️‼️U AND UR DIRTY (and super talented may i add) MIND ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME😵‍💫😵‍💫

i saw ur ✨dbf!sam✨ post yesterday... so imma add fuel to the fire... and suggest *drumroll*

sugardaddy!sam😏

Warnings: oral sex, daddy kink, age gap, oral fixation, penetration, pretty much everything. if I missed anything major please let me know!

WC: 900 words

Author’s Note: thank you and sorry, this took a while sweet nonnie but it's here several heatwaves later & onto winter! still accepting requests for any sam wilson au particularly!

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Sam Wilson Masterlist

Sugar daddy Sam is a bit older than you, very confident in himself, loves showcasing his love at any second, and never hesitates to present you as his woman.

He loves to gift you things, of course, he loves learning each and every unique trait that represents to you to better determine what you need. He loves to say that every want and a whim is actually a need so he never hesitates at all.

Besides getting you a whole new wardrobe for each one of your dates, (Because you need to change at least four times to know what you look good in the most) completely set with shoes and jewelry and booked nail and hair appointments, a driver with fancy limousine waiting outside your house for as long as you need, he also likes giving you a big bouquet of flowers.

Once you complain that you don't have enough vases, he starts moving on to plants. Suddenly your garden is the prettiest in the whole neighborhood.

He has so many nicknames for you, sugar, love, baby girl, sunshine, and yet his favorite one is when he calls you a good girl when you are struggling to take all of his cock inside you. No matter how many times he has done that he still finds a little trouble going too deep. Only when you whine and beg that you can do it does he let himself loose.

Now he is a busy man, so he always makes sure to coordinate your schedules to spend as much as you need but also to make sure that he doesn't demand way too much of you. He knows that the time you dedicate to him is a privilege for him. He respects your job and your love for your family, he would never want to have you only living and breathing for him. So for every holiday, he books holidays for you and your family to take you all on.

He always takes his time to dote on you, a weekend getaway here or there, a day trip down to the beach, or the rooftop of a hotel booked exclusively just for the pair of you. He likes an inside pool just as much as he likes an outside one.

His favorite memory to keep through a busy day is the image of him on to you, his chain hanging above your lips, with sweat dripping down from both of your bodies as he pounds hard inside, your breasts vibrating just for him, he has thought of asking you to get nipple piercings many times but he still hesitates a little to ask you confidently.

He dreams of his fingers inside your mouth as you are sitting comfortably next to him on his velvet couch and he always misses you when you are not around.

He keeps little reminders of you on him all the time, besides love bruises. He loves keeping a necklace you got him for his birthday with your initials tucked underneath his chains. He has your name written on his cuff links, and he keeps a pair of your panties inside the pocket of his dress suit to remind him what he can return to after a long day.

Now each morning he texts you good morning without fail, he calls you when he knows you're getting ready for work, and he tries not to distract you too much but sometimes you end up being late for work, that's what happens when your phone has such a nice camera on it and his voice just sounds sweet and sensual like that.

Most of all he is a giver, when he's with you, he wants to spend his time worshipping you, asking you how much you love him as his tongue stays close to your pussy lips while his fingers caress your skin. He loves taking his sweet time eating you out only to relax you, and because as he says it's much easier for you to focus on anything with two orgasms drawn from out of you.

Sam always smiles whenever you call him daddy outside of the bedroom setting, he loves knowing you love him this much. His favorite moniker and the only thing that makes him harder at any given second. He loves tracing your lips with his fingers as you sweetly tell him about your day and he always listens, there's no piece of information that he ever forgets.

From diamond bikinis to expensive lingerie, to luxurious faux fur with nothing underneath, he never seems uninterested, in anything you do, or anything you wear, he likes them all as long as it's you and what you want.

And when he gets a little too frustrated at work he doesn't hesitate to call you for some sort of emotional or sensual relief and whenever you are available to get whisked away to his apartment or his office he makes sure to reward you in every way possible.

And he shows up to your house the day you've decided to deep clean everything, he takes off his shirt and helps you with everything. Never was afraid to get a little dirty.

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

[moonlit-imagines]

Preferences: Karaoke with the Avengers

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: this was on a gif imagine list but i really thought this would be funnier teehee. also. um. all these gifs being mainly from that one scene of AOU is sending me

prompt: anon 🥀: “imagine karaoke night with the avengers”

Bruce would need a LOT of courage to go up and sing for a crowd, but he’d gladly do a duet if you were the lead. “Hang on wait, you start.” He’d tell you, awkwardly holding the microphone and standing slightly behind you. You’d laugh and start the song off, waiting for him to get comfortable before you started dancing around with him. The crowd went wild.

Avid karaoke spectator. Loves to watch, loves to laugh, claps as hard as he can anyways. Nat gets him to sing every once in a while—something really serious that brings the crowd to tears. You always record and save it for a rainy day. “Y/N, delete that. That doesn’t leave this room.”

Nat loves karaoke! She’ll sing solo, duets, group songs, any genre, you name it! But if you sing with her, you better do it right and you better do it on key. “Y/N, you’re going too high.” She’ll warn. “I told you I couldn’t hit these notes!” You’ll tell her, insisting on the other song you picked. It was all fine in the end, though, so long as you bought her a drink.

Sam can SING. Let him do his thing, he’s amazing, everyone can’t wait for him to get on stage. He has to swat the ladies away. At least, that’s what he claims. He’s not too much of a spotlight sharer, and he always asks you to hold the camera. You get the right angles. “That’s it, remember to zoom in at the end so I can do my wink, okay? We’re gonna post that.” Genuinely enjoys karaoke and loves the hype.

Steve will sing something old, everyone will pretend to fall asleep and he’ll call them mean. You always clap for him, and he’s even invited you up to sing some golden oldies, which shocks most people when you play his counterpart so well. It’s the closest he can get to an appropriate setting where he can dance the way he did when he was younger, and you always entertain it because it lifts his spirits.

Thor only knows one song, perpetually complains that there are no Asgardian songs on the playlist. His one song is something really silly like Maroon 5 or Imagine Dragons, but he sings it well. He refuses to learn any other songs, one will do just fine. And the more he drinks, the more times he goes up in one night and sings that same song. You’d think it’d be exhausting but its actually really funny. “Another!”

Tony Stark goes one of two ways—vintage dad rock (Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, etc.) or early Y2K pop (Britney Spears, Lady Gaga). Either way, you’re in for a show. “Y/N, what am I singing tonight?” He asks your preference, but no matter what you say, he’ll do the opposite.

Wanda is a showtunes girl, she loves to live in that fantasy—even if it’s only for three and a half minutes. Any musical, you name it, she’ll do it. These require some backup vocals and maybe a partner here and there. Be careful, because she’ll just pick someone and they have no choice but to sing with. “Wanda wait! I don’t know the words!” You protest with her hand in yours as she drags you up to the stage. “You know how to read, silly!”

BONUS: Vision is the karaoke machine 🎤

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[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. 

[apocalypse-shuffle]

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

—

“Arm Day” (Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader)

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

| SFW, exercising, romantic tension(?)

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

| Inspo: Instagram

| 1k+ words

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

A scoff this time.

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

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

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

A beat of silence and then: “Okay…”

“Awesome. Have fun sweating by-”

“I’ll see you in five.”

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

“Fuck no! Sam!”

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

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

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

“Shit- where in the world…?”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“You made a promise,” he hedges.

You flip off said thick - accusatory - eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He peeks through the sliver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

_ _ _

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

You scoff while going down on your push-ups.

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

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

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

Hn.

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

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

“See something you like?”

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

“No,” you snap to the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam just laughs, teeth glinting.

“I’m just happy to help.”

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

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

“You okay now?”

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

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

“I try to be.”

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

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

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

[ramp-it-up]

The Sweetest Nectar

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader. Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Steve is pining for you and the fact that you are Sam’s girl doesn’t mean a thing.

Word Count: 1K.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT, 

Warnings: Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Soft Dark Subby Nomad Steve Rogers. Darkish reader. Mention of pre-serum Steve, Lap dance in public, voyeurism, masturbation, mention of drugs and alcohol, pining, angst, teasing, exhibitionism (on reader’s part), possible non con exhibitionism (on Sam’s part). Oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up), sloppy seconds, possible cheating. All errors my own.

A/N: Thanks for this ask! It streched me.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were giving your boyfriend a lap dance on Steve’s couch, and it made the host irrationally happy. 

Steve was glad that Sam had someone, especially someone as sweet as you. Damn, you were probably so fucking sweet.

Steve licked his lips as he watched your hips undulate in front of Sam’s face. This was the perfect opportunity to watch you and ogle your body, because everyone was a little tipsy and a little high and doing it too. 

It was all in fun, right?

You glanced at Steve upside down as you gyrated on Sam’s lap now, and bent backward all the way over, your braids touching the floor, giving the room a view of your luscious tits. 

Yeah. You were perfect. And this night was the highlight since Steve came out of the ice.

You winked at Steve and his face grew red, but he played it off by taking another drink and rubbing his beard while flipping his long hair out of his face.

It worked on countless other women, but you just sat back up and pulled Sam’s face into the valley of your breasts, gasping as he motorboated your clothed breasts and grabbed the glorious globes of your blue-jeaned ass. 

People laughed, but Steve’s mood changed; he started plotting dismemberment and where to scatter body parts when Bucky came up to stand beside him and watch.

“Hold it up a little higher, buddy.”

Steve didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he took another drink and replied.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That torch you’re carrying. Maybe she’ll see it if you hold it up higher, Lady Liberty.”

Steve just scoffed and drank some more, not denying anything that Bucky had said.

Bucky laughed and went to get another beer, as Steve practically cried in his, his heart silently aching for you.

—-

You and Sam were in Steve’s bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that everyone else was doing body shots in the kitchen.

“F-f-fuckkkkk! Samuel T-t-t-hom… fuck, Samuel Thomas W-w-wilsonnnnn.”

You were grabbing Sam’s ears as he skillfully ate you out, looking down on him between your legs as he sucked and pulled and played with your clit.

“Fucky, Baby… where did you learn to do … goddamn…”

You panted to try and catch your breath as he inserted three fingers inside you and spread them out.

“Holyyyyyy Shhhhhhh!!!!!!!!” 

You came like a freight train, your knees clamping down around Sam’s head. Sam’s large hands pried you from around his face and came up for air, a triumphant smirk on his face. He held your legs open and gazed at the pretty dark, wet lips of your cunt and the creamy liquid oozing out between them.

“Learning new techniques every day. Just to keep you satisfied, darlin’,”

Sam shook his head and watched as your pretty pussy lips sheltered your still quivering folds.

“It’s a beautiful view.”

Steve silently agreed from the closet, watching your beautiful cunt shine in the dim light from the street. He had his hand wrapped around his cock, fisting himself brutally at the sights, sounds, and faint smell of you. Steve silently willed Sam to action, wanting to hear how that wet pussy sounded when it was fucked good. 

It was just like before the war, when he watched Bucky…

“Hmmmm, Daddy. Give me some. Please? Pretty please. Will you give me some of that thick dick?”

You leaned back, legs still open, looking up at Sam, who was standing now, in front of you.

Your face, fucked out and glowing, looked up at his friend as you licked your lips was everything in the world to Steve Rogers right now.

Steve imagined it was him you were begging, and he didn’t know if he wanted you to suck Sam off or let him fuck you senseless. He just knew that wanted to bust this nut.

“Assume the fucking position then.”

You whimpered, and Steve nearly bust in his hand.

“Yes, Daddy.” 

You got on all fours on the bed and that view was even better than before. Oh, how he’d eat that ass, Steve thought.

Sam smacked both cheeks three times, and your moans and sighs alone were enough to make Steve cum. He watched his friend line up his thick dick and swipe it through your folds, and could almost feel your beautiful wetness. Stevehad to bite his lips to hold in his own grunts as Sam slowly, wetly, and solidly sank into you. 

“Ohhhhhh… shit….DADDY!!!”

“Fuuuuuccccckkkkkk!”

Sam’s head lolled back on his shoulders as he bottomed out and Steve’s eyes practically rolled back in his head as he witnessed the ecstasy. 

Then, Sam looked down and smacked your ass again. Steve watched, rapt, as Sam slowly pulled almost all the way out, then plunged quickly back into your wet goodness. He bet you were so warm. Sam did it again and again and again, faster and faster, and faster. Steve stroked in time as you moaned louder and louder and louder, oblivious to the others at the party.

Steve watched your back arch, and your flesh shake and ripple with every back shot delivered. He was so fucking close.

“Daddy? Daddy? Please Daddy.. I wanna, I wanna….I neeeeeed to…”

“Cum, Darlin’... give it to me. Fuck yeah!”

Sam’s voice was a growl and as you started shaking, Steve’s cum started spilling into his palm and the sock that he was using to contain it.

“Shhsshhhhittttttt….” Steve’s whisper was not silent, but quiet enough that you two wouldn’t hear it over your own noises.

You and Sam collapsed on the bed..

“That was great, Darlin’. You shouldn’t tease me like that in public. ‘S not gonna stop me from giving it to you.” 

Sam kissed your nose.

“I am well aware of what that does to a man. Makes it that much better, Daddy.”

Sam laughed, and then moved toward the bathroom.

“We better get outta here, before Steve catches us in his bedroom.”

You looked toward the bathroom and then sat up on the edge of the bed, legs open again.

Steve saw your wrecked pussy, the combination of you and Sam seeping out, and his cock swelled again. He nearly yelled when he saw you playing in it again. It was like you were doing it just for him.

But you stopped when Sam came back out to get dressed.

“I need a little more time to get cleaned up. You go ahead.”

“Ok Darlin,” Sam leaned over and kissed your forehead and you reached for a peck on the lips.

“You made me hungry, took all my energy. I’m going to go eat some food.” 

Sam winked and left the room smiling and happy.

When the door closed, you stared straight at the closet.

“Well? Are you going to stay in there and jack off again, or are you going to come out and clean me up?”

You leaned back on your hands, legs wide.

“Now’s your chance Steve. I know you’re in there. Are you going to come out Captain?”

Steve gulped. Then he couldn’t help but comply.

“Fuck…”

Steve emerged from the closet, the tip hard cock glistening and stiff at the opening of his undone pants. He walked toward you and dropped to his knees.

You threaded your hand in his hair, brushing it away from his forehead as he closed his eyes at your touch. You guided his head toward your throbbing cunt.

“You get sloppy seconds, but I bet that’s what you like…”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Steve nodded vigorously as his tongue collected the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted.

[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

[skylarinfinity]

m/n: [checking out shirtless sam] i know we're friends, but i would fuck you if you ask me.

sam: what? [turn to see m/n checking him out]

m/n: [shrugged] i would fuck you if you ask me.

steve: do you- do you guys need some times alone?

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket @panandinpain0 @badblondebisexualboy

[imyourbratzdoll]

After everyones request is it ok to ask for sam willson pls

Fluffy sam request with him and reader chilling at movie night and them cuddling in a shared blanket please

hello honey! I'm so sorry for taking so long, and I hope you enjoy it! also, thank you to @lokiandbuckysdoll for supporting me on kofi!

summary - your partner comes home, and you two best relax by watching a movie together.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“Yay! Movie night!” Sam shimmies, holding a handful of snacks, and heads over to you. You smile as you watch him place the snacks on the coffee table and open your arms for him to crawl into them. Sam lifts the blankets, getting under them and snuggling into you. He sighs as your arms wrap around him, and you press play on the horror movie. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. This is the best way to unwind. You, me, some snacks and a movie, perfection.” He kisses his fingers, grinning as you giggle at his words before he reaches over and grabs some of the chocolate sitting there, handing you a few blocks while eating some for himself.

You rest your head against his shoulder, squeezing your arms around him tightly as you’ve missed having him close to you. “I’ve missed you too, Sam. You tend to light everything up with your presence.” You turn your head, kissing his cheek softly, loving how warm he is. You tend to run cold, but you become so much more warmer when he's around. “I love you so much.” 

The two of you watch the movie, laughing and commenting on the scenes and how stupid the people can be. You continue to eat the snacks and cuddle with your partner, enjoying having him in your company after being away from each other for so long. As the credits roll, Sam rolls over and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your chest and pulling you close to him. “I’ve missed this.” He looks up at you with a soft look, his eyes memorising your face. “I’ve missed you, everything about you.” Sam lifts his hand, stroking your cheek, and your breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut as his touch brings comfort.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Marvel Masterlist

All of my Marvel works!

A quick disclaimer: I am writing when I can! Please be patient with me, I work full time and I am also a college student, I have a lot on my plate.

If you find any mistakes in my writing, please call me out on it! I usually don't have the time to proofread my works before publishing and even then I do miss some errors. I want to become a better writer so please tell me!

If there is any way at all that I can make my writing more inclusive please leave your suggestions either in my asks, my messages or in my comments! I am whiter than white so please help me become a more inclusive writer!

LAST UPDATED : JANUARY 7, 2024

Enjoy my works!

not my gifs

Bucky Barnes

Matilda Rainy Days Christmas Movie Night Soulmate Can’t Help Falling in Love Snowed in The Holiday Spirit Snow Days Not Your Fault A Dance in the Snow Age of Machine Makeup Artist

Steve Rogers

Sleepless Nights Burned Cookies Personal Nurse Holiday Blues The New Day

Sam Wilson

I Find Comfort in You Road Tripping

[cassiopeia-grimm]

Imagine

They're fucking you.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

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

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

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

i'll take care of you.

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

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

"You look like hell."

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

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

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

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

You softly grunt in objection, "No."

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

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

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

"Sam..." you grumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The door," Sam cheekily replies.

"It was locked."

"I may or may not have a key."

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

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

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

"Just let me take care of you."

"You don't have to."

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

"I hate you."

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

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

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

Anon's 1K Celebration Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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

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

[fluffyprettykitty]

nsfw alphabet

Pairing: Sam Wilson x female reader (no specifications)

Word Count: 2200 words

Warnings: pretty much everything, ejaculations, penetration, sex toys, oral sex, exhibitionism, lingerie kink, humiliation kink, daddy kink, oral fixation, size difference. if I missed anything major please let me know!

Author’s Note: Here it is! thank you all for voting in my poll and if you see something interesting let me know so we can expand it! :)

PS: dividers & banners by @saradika

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Sam Wilson Masterlist

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Sam loves taking care of you, he likes showering you and caressing you while doing so before returning you to bed with him. Drying your hair and your skin with a soft blanket and then tenderly applying lotions on both of you, he never stops praising you and being soft and tender with you. He loves cuddling you and acting like the big spoon engulfing you inside his embrace & keeping you warm. He is also a big pajama wearer ever since moving to Washington dc so he dresses you in them as well. He completely adores you and he makes sure to take his time showing his devotion and admiration to you.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

His favorite body part of his are his hands, especially his fingers, he knows what kind of effect they have on you and he loves driving you wild with them, the possibilities are endless. Although he is also pretty much a cock guy. When it comes to a lover, Sam is mostly an ass guy but he is also into breasts as much as any guy, all in all, his favorite parts of a woman are her mouth and lips, loves getting kissed and caressed, and all the soft things.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Sam loves shooting his cum inside you and watching it spill out slowly, he also loves feeding you his cum with his fingers and when he finishes a blowjob he headlocks your head in for maximum effect. Sometimes he also loves painting you with his cum and shooting it all over your breasts just to make you lick it all again. He is also known to something leaving marks on your clothes for you to find later, just cause.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

Sam's dirty secret is that he is into humiliation for you, he would take it to the extreme but he respects you too much for it. If he could parade around nude with a collar on a leash he would be happy. he loves knowing that he'd own you completely but only during the act and he loves it the more teary-eyed you are.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

Sam is an experienced man, there's almost nothing he hasn't tried yet as he is very adventurous and always up for new things. He knows how to do everything you ask of him and he loves pleasing your wishes. He loves finding out your body and meeting your needs and suppressing your expectations to the max.

F= Favorite position

On your back of course, holding your hands together and slamming his whole body onto yours, followed closely by missionary just to watch you struggle underneath him and your tummy bulge and lastly, he loves it when you are riding his face, one first around his cock, another hand on your clit rubbing.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He can become very goofy during sex especially when he wants to tease you and makes the most obscure references to things while doing so. He will mock you in a joking way & he's rarely serious about it. The only times he is serious during the act is when he's feeling grief or something intense during an unsolved mission for instance.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

Sam is the most well-groomed man in the world, he loves his showers, he loves his lotions & his oils. He always smells incredible and he takes care of himself in every was possible.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Sam is very much a romantic intimate guy. He will stop to make a love confession to you, kiss your face, call you pretty, recall a past action of yours he particularly adored and mostly he will make you feel as loved and secure as ever before. Worshipping you comes naturally to him and as vocal as he is he won't stop praising you. Even when he gets rough or punishing he never fails to you beautiful and sexy.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Sam only masturbates on late-night overseas calls with you or when you are getting punished by him. During calls he is more desperate and goes faster at it with his big hand wrapped around his girthy cock, stroking himself with precum falling off his fingers so deliciously. At the other times though he does it more slowly, caressing his veins in such a teasing way that his own cock twitches for more attention. He also does have a fleshlight but he uses it more rarely.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Sam likes the thrill of almost getting caught, not that he'd ever allow you to be exposed to anything because he's just that good but he loves knowing that five minutes before guests are supposed to arrive, you are at the decorated dinner table getting eaten out. Also, he is known to be slipping fingers inside you during conversations with people knowing people would never manage to point it out. And of course the daddy thing which is the first kink of his you ever find out because he does refers to him like that during the act.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Sam loves getting you alone in the shower, ever since you met him you have never taken a shower or a bath on your own, he always shows up. Another favorite place of his is the car, especially for blow jobs because he says it gives him the chance to prove how good of a driver he is but he also loves fingering you in the car. Another favorite place of his is the dinner table, either on it or against it.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Clothes are what motivates him, the way they hang on your body, the way you walk, the way you smell, the way you might repeat an action that entices him. He is extremely observant so he always has his eyes on you somehow observing all of your micro-expressions. During the act what makes him more feral are the sounds of your wet pussy and when those first mantras of daddy begin to fall off your lips, that's when he gets brutal and needy himself.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Sam doesn't have many turnoffs. He would never do anything you wouldn't want to do and he would always stop the minute you'd ask him to. He would listen to you.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

Sam is a king at pussy eating, he loves using both the tip and the flat of his tongue to maximize your pleasure. He holds your thighs down and goes to town in such a way that will have you shaking again and again. He loves sucking on the clit like a lollipop, he likes using his fingers along with his tongue to make you squirm and he enjoys slurping up all of your juices, cleaning you completely. Now when it comes to receiving he loves a partner who tries to deep throat because let's be real that thing is huge you will choke yourself on it no matter how hard you try but that's one of the things he loves the most. Sometimes he might even use your mouth as a resting place for his cock. Overall he loves oral sex both for giving and receiving and he loves it most when he does it in a semi-public setting.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Sam is fast but he prefers it slow. He only picks up the pace when he needs to make you go crazy. He could last all night if you let him and once a week he loves taking off the whole day just to fuck you in any position possible, it's what motivates him better.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Quickies are not the preferred for Sam, he loves taking his time and overstimulating and edging you at the same time, so for him a quickie could only happen if he was that desperate for you, hasn't seen you in a while and needs you immediately or in a public setting (family dinner in the bathroom, club sex, dressing room quickie)

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

Sam loves taking risks. There's almost nothing he wouldn't want to try, together or on you or on himself. The minute he finds out about something new he would love to try it out with you. Sam is always up for a good experience, he says it builds character, especially on himself.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Sam can last a LOT. He loves taking his time, quickies are not his favourites, so one pussy eating session could turn into an hour-long affair, a fucking could turn into cockwarming, and back into fucking without him ever losing his hard-on. And even if it does he gets it up pretty quickly. All in all, he loves lasting and dragging out his time, wanting to completely savor the experience. So each round of his would preferably be around 30 minutes up to an hour.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

He is pretty much game with any sex toy. He would love to use your vibrator on you just to test you out or to stimulate you, he would use an anal plug just for you to feel some kind of double penetration and he wouldn't mind a cock ring himself. He is also into any kind of accessory, including handcuffs, ropes & masks. As a gadget man, he wouldn't mind even toying with a vibrator to turn into a remote control object turned by his voice.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Sam is a huge teaser. He would touch at any opportunity, smack your ass, squeeze your breast if he can, tease your neck. He'd even lick his fingers to cite a reaction out of you, he would low whisper close to your ear, he'd grunt in a way that would make you jump at him and mostly he would do anything in his position not to leave you alone at all.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Sam can be quite loud with his barite grunts and the way he curses during the act. He tends to be more talkative when he's teasing and right before he starts fucking you, after that he focuses on the sounds because he loves hearing it when he slams inside you, that slapping sound and the sound of wet pussy makes him wild. He tends to also ask you a lot of questions because he likes overstimulating his partner and mostly he moans when you blow him off, maybe the only time during the act he's not that talkative. He also likes groaning every time he enters you.

W= Wild card (random sin cannon of any sort)

Sam is so incredibly into getting his fingers sucked, he loves mouth training and having a partner that has an oral fixation like that, he loves a partner that prefers letting him take control for the most part. He is also very into masturbating with your lingerie although that would be a little bit harder for him to admit. He definitely has one drawer full of your own underwear.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Sam has a very muscular and well-toned body. His workouts are intense and he participates in all kinds of sports. His huge biceps are the result of weight lifting and his incredible stamina comes from his active lifestyle. He's also incredibly well-endowed and leaves anyone begging for it. His cock is girthy and uncut, full of veins with an almost aggressive tip.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Sam possesses a medium sex drive, as a former soldier he is very disciplined and very in control of his emotions and actions so he never slips but when he needs he can become pretty unpredictable. Sam is after all a spontaneous kind of person. So depending on his object of lust his sex drive increases.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Sam is a big cuddler so he prefers wrapping his arms around you and bringing you close to him before he falls asleep, preferably with his nose buried inside your hair. The peaceful sound of you breathing in your sleep is what drifts him off to sleep, he is a very much a doing things together so he loves it when you fall asleep together after sex.

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[sarahwroteathing]

Dear Sam (2)

[Sam Wilson x Reader]

Word Count: 1615

Summary: You begin drafting your letter to Sam, and old memories resurface.

Warnings: Discussion of grief

A/N: Surpriiiiiiiiise. I once again kool-aid man my way back to my blog to post a thing. Any and all gratitude for my sudden reappearance can be directed to @indominusregina I am here to bum you out on your birthday, like a true friend. Love you, bestie

Part One

There were false starts, many of them, written in a notebook you kept in your nightstand drawer. The handwriting on each varied slightly, reflecting the emotional state of each version of yourself that risked putting pen to paper. 

The first try came out jagged. Awkward. A handwriting reminiscent of high school note taking, messy and vaguely frantic, with half transformed letters sprinkled throughout, where your hand tried and almost failed to keep up with the ever shifting message in your brain. 

Dear Sam, 

The comma started too high, an aborted beginning of a second m. Sammy, you’d almost written, before dismissing it as out of character. You’d only ever called him that in moments primed for a smile. Through a pout, syllables drawn out, dramatic and mostly insincere, in a half-hatched ploy to get your way. Or in a falsely scandalized tone, clutching at invisible pearls you’d never owned, to make him roll his eyes or double down on whatever flirtation he’d been throwing your way. Sometimes in profoundly giddy joy, the kind that sent you running to meet him in the entryway like an excitable child, throwing your arms around him and not even thinking twice about the pure, eager love you were displaying for him. 

In any case, not appropriate for now, for a form so thoroughly divorced from its proper contexts.

All I can think about is how I have no idea how to write this letter. How much better you would be at this. You were always good with emotion, with explaining things kindly and firmly, with making yourself understood. I think I got better with you, but I still feel underqualified to write something as important as this. But the point is, I’m the only one who can write it. So I’m going to try anyway. In case it helps. Because there’s a whole lot I don’t understand, but one thing I do know is that you’d want me to get better and to move on if I could. You were annoyingly unselfish that way.

You threw down your pen, a shaky exhale escaping your lungs with an urgency, like you’d been holding it for too long. Maybe you had been. It felt as though every word you wrote only made it to the paper by being ripped free from your heart. It hurts. It’s stupid, senseless. A letter written by you, for you, addressed to a man who will never read it. It doesn’t matter. But it still manages to fucking hurt. 

You clench your jaw, pick up your pen again. 

But I don’t know how to move on, Sam. I don’t know how to let you go. It shouldn’t be this hard. You’ve been gone so long that I…

You took a sharp breath, eyes burning, as you forced out the words.

I sometimes forget to miss you. And I feel like I must be the worst person alive every time. Because you deserve more than that. You deserve every tear I can shed, every second of every sleepless hour, every stolen breath, every pound of grief I can shoulder. You deserve everything. And I get so mixed up in my head about it, how I can go so long sometimes without remembering you’re really gone and then get dragged under again like I’ve just lost you for the very first time. It doesn’t make sense. I wish I could make it make sense. I wish you were here to explain it to me. I wish you were here. 

You scrubbed your hands over your face, pushed yourself restlessly to your feet. 

One lap of your apartment. 

Deep breath. 

A second lap. 

You grabbed your pen and notebook from the desk, flopped down on your bed with them, staring blankly at the small jewelry dish on your nightstand for several minutes. A leather bracelet, the name of a town you’d never been to artfully etched on the surface. A delicate chain with a small gold charm in the shape of a wing. A watch, way too bulky for your own wrist, that you’d insisted on wearing every day for almost a year. An Idaho state quarter dated 2007. 

Do you remember the night we met? In that dive bar down the street from my old apartment. It was as far from the height of romance as you could possibly get, but you made it work for you anyway. You and Steve and Natasha were sitting in the back booth, a few steps from the jukebox thats simple existence charmed me to pieces.

I remember how disappointed I was when my pockets came up short. I’m not sure whether it was my proximity or my colorful words that first drew your attention. But there you were. My knight in soft leather with a hand full of quarters shining red from the neon beer sign over your shoulder.

“How much you short by?” 

“Fifty cents,” you answered with a rueful laugh, eyes flickering between his handsome face and the handful of change. 

“Well, I happen to have fifty cents, and I’m happy to give it to you if I get veto power on your song choice.”

The corner of your mouth drifted up into a half smile despite your best efforts at his mildly flirtatious but matter-of-fact tone.

“I don’t take gifts with strings attached,” you said challengingly.  

“Alright, alright. Worth a shot. Can I at least stick around to see what you pick?”

The compromise we came up with: you picked a letter, I picked a number. And I don’t think it was a test exactly, but when I picked the Marvin Gaye song, the way your eyes lit up and the smile you gave me left no doubt that I’d passed with flying colors.

And I remember being so instantly enamored with you, with that beautiful smile and those eyes that promised a safe kind of trouble, that I stopped noticing anything else. My best friend’s song request blasting through the speakers, the sticky floors, the taste of the tequila sunrise you bought me with a promise that there would be no strings attached. And there weren’t any, of course. But I remember wishing there would be if it meant a chance of seeing you again.

And I remember the way I made my move on you, when you pressed two more quarters into my hand so I could pick my own song without interference. I remember you hooking your finger on the back belt loop of my jeans so we wouldn’t get separated on our way back to the jukebox and the way I was glad you were behind me so you couldn't see how much that made me smile. 

You barely hesitated, keying in your selection as soon as the quarters rattled home. You’d seen the song the first time, while Sam had been examining the catalog. 

It started only a few seconds later, and you turned with a satisfied little smile, watching Sam as he tilted his head, squinting slightly as he tried to identify the opening notes. 

When the first line hit, that smile was back, wide and charming and playful. 

“The night we met I knew I needed you so.”

“Okay,” he laughed, taking a half step closer, leaning his shoulder against the wall right beside you. “Hittin on me now, huh?” 

“Presumptuous,” you said mildly, not moving away. “Maybe I’m just very passionate about the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.” 

“That’s still sounding like a line to me.”

You shrugged, pushing off the wall with a teasing smile. It put you much closer, your faces only inches apart. 

“You planning on doing something about it?”

I was bolder that night than I ever had been. You had that effect on me. Made me brave, confident. Joyful. You made me so fucking happy, Sam. Right from the beginning. I was never as unapologetically and ecstatically myself as when I was with you. I don’t know how to do that without you, how to be that person again. I don’t know if I ever can. I miss her too. The version of me who walked through life beside you, who could call you anytime just to hear your voice. Who could hear “Be My Baby” and come running, follow the sound to where you were waiting with your phone held up and a goofy little grin that felt like it was all mine, get bundled up in your arms and plied with kisses until I was breathless and giggling. 

Now it just hurts. I can’t bring myself to delete the song from my playlists, but every time it comes on, I can’t help but cry. And now when I’m breathless, it’s not in that fun, giddy way. It’s more dangerous. Like choking. Like drowning. And I’m so tired, Sam. I want to stop. I want to keep all the memories I have of you, the sound of your laugh, the smell of your skin, the way my hand fit in yours. But I don’t want this pain. And I’m not sure anymore if I can have one without the other. That terrifies me.

So I guess what all this means is that I’m trying to let you go, and it’s not supposed to be against my will, but that’s how it feels anyway. I’m scared of letting you go the way I’m scared of almost everything these days. 

What if I forget you? What if I don’t? I honestly can’t tell you what would feel worse. But no matter what… 

You know I will adore you till eternity. 

Even when you’re not here to sing it with me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. 

I love you.

---------------------

Sound off! Who's not dead?

Would love to hear your thoughts, my loves. This story is truly a living organism with drastically changing drafts.

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