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#falcon x reader
super-marvel-dc · 1 year
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Y/N: I’m gonna die alone.
Sam: Y/N, you’re not gonna die alone.
Y/N: Tony, was my safety net, okay? He got married and now I have to get a snake.
Sam, dialing Bucky: Uh-huh. Why is that?
Y/N: If I’m gonna be an old lonely person, I’m gonna need a thing, you know? A hook. Like that guy in the subway who eats his own face.
Y/N: So I figured I’ll be “Crazy Person With A Snake”, you know? Crazy snake person.
Y/N: Then I’ll get more snakes, call them my babies. Kids won’t walk past my place, they will run! RUN AWAY FROM CRAZY SNAKE PERSON!
Sam, on the phone with Bucky: Uh, I'm gonna need you to bring the straight jacket-
Y/N: *Still ranting*
Sam: Now would be great.
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gfmaximoff · 6 months
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Y/N: Are you in love with Sam?
Bucky: *sweats* No…
Y/N: Then why do you draw 'S+B' in hearts everywhere?
Bucky: It stands for Suffering and Bitterness.
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bvbygrl-writes · 4 months
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What Do I Know?
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Pairing: Rich!Dilf!Sam Wilson x Black!College Student!Reader
Word Count: 3.2k
Summary: Your best friend ain’t tell ya her dad was a daddy.
A/N: This is a repost from my old blog since I haven't been able to write anything with how exhausting work is jtgktr enjoy! ♥
Warnings: Age gap, fingering, pussy eating, overstim, fucking
THIS FIC IS 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE. I CHECK EVERY ACCOUNT DO NOT PLAY WITH ME.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come home with you? This isn’t some small break like spring or that lil rinky dink one they give us in February.” (Y/n) asked, zipping the sides of her suitcase together. The long awaited summer break had come and after tiring, long hours of college classes all (Y/N) and Miyaki wanted to do was head home.
Well that was the original plot however it had clearly been lost. One phone call home and all of a sudden her mom and dad had magically ‘forgot’ to inform her that they had planned a trip for the two of them and the addition of her other three siblings (who somehow had been informed and never got left out..) to Europe. Although the girl was originally mad - rightfully so- she got over it really fast. So much so that she didn’t even bother letting her mom finish her little half assed excuse of how she thought she had texted her with the info and what not. This was her summer too and she was not going to start it off being upset over family drama.
However she still did feel bad about joining Miyaki on her trip home. The two girls had become fast friends during their few years at college and as the tall woman had said “We’ve been friends for years and ain’t been to each other’s houses once. You don’t think that’s a lil weird?” and she had to agree but it was one thing to spend the night at a friend’s house but to spend an entire summer? That was practically unheard of from where she came from! Nobody had that kind of money and food to be feeding an extra mouth for an entire three months.
“Yes girl, relax! I asked my dad today if it was chill for you to come and he agreed! Quit worrying and grab yo shit, the car is waiting out front.” The green eyed girl said, tossing her faux locs over her shoulders. Before (Y/n) could get in another worry or complaint she walked out of the dorm, slamming the door behind her.
“That girl has some serious attitude problems, I’ll tell ya that…” the girl muttered to herself, rolling her suitcase in tow. She eyed the dorm one last time, smiling at the nice memories they had made this year before exiting, leaving the key under the mat for the next students that’d come to stay.
——————————
The first sign that Miyaki came from a different living situation from her was the shiny black Rolls-Royce parked in front of the housing part of campus. There was an older gentleman in a chauffeur outfit who put their bags in the car. She’d given her friend a look who gave her a confused one back before hopping in the car with her. Was this really not out of the ordinary for her? If this was just her car what would her house look like?
(Y/n) let out an audible gasp as the big black gates opened.
“You live in a gated community?!” she exclaimed, turning to her roommate. Miyaki’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“Gated community? Sis….this is my house!” she let out a laugh as the (h/c) haired girl remained silent, looking at the large house in awe. How many people lived with Miyaki? To say she was stunned was an understatement. Miyaki was the most down to earth person she had met since going to college at Stonebrook. As the name suggested, it was a really prestigious and fancy school, tons of stuck up brats on daddy and mommy’s pay going to the school. (Y/n) had always been isolated by her peers since she was attending on a scholarship. They found it pathetic and pitied her which she despised. Why should she be looked down on for actually working to get into school?
Miyaki had never felt that way though. She treated (Y/n) as she treated everyone else…if not a little better (the girl had quite a mean streak) and was very quiet about her home life. But now as they walked up the quartz stairs and through the big marble columns, she could understand why.
“Dad, we’re home! Come meet my friend!” the girl’s voice echoed across the entire house causing her to snicker. ‘Does she ever use an inside voice?’
“I’ll be down in a sec, sweetheart!” a deep baritone voice called out. (Y/n) felt her heart race at the sound. The man’s voice went through her ears like silk. It was smooth but had a bit of a dark tinge to it, like a hint of cream in black coffee. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through her socials as she awaited the man’s presence. After what felt like forever a pair of footsteps came in their direction before parking in front of them. The woman almost dropped her phone at the sight in front of her.
In front of her was the finest man she had ever seen. Brown skin that had that healthy glow, prominent cheekbones, and a bit of facial hair around the mouth region. He was only in jeans and a t- shirt but the way it fit him? The shirt clung to his torso perfectly, the muscles of his upper arms constricted by the cuffs, toned chest. This was her father? She could’ve never guessed by how fit he was! Thighs so thick that she had to stop herself from letting her thoughts drift (more so than they already were..). But when he smiled? Her legs turned to jello. His smile was bright and blinding and he had the most charming gap. It seemed as time had slown down when she was looking at him and from the looks of it he wasn’t disappointed at what he was seeing either. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her midriff for just a little too long or the slight whistle he let out before covering it up with a cough.
“I’m Sam Wilson, Miyaki’s father. You must be (Y/n).” he said, holding a hand out for her to take. She gladly accepted it, shaking it with one hand as she placed the other one on top of both of them in a gentle way. The girl smiled back at him offering him a nod.
“Indeed I am! It’s so Nice to meet you Mr.Wilson and can I just say how thankful I am for you and Mrs.Wilson allowing me to stay with you guys for the summer. Especially with Miyaki’s short notice and all.” out of the corner of her eye she could see Miyaki roll her eyes at her sudden over-politeness towards her father and the way she had completely thrown her under the bus. Her attention was brought fully back to the man in question as he tightened his grip around her hand some.
“Mrs.Wilson? I’m not surprised Miyaki didn’t give you the details. It’ll only be the three of us here for the summer so in other words, there is no Mrs.Wilson.” he looked to the side a bit before turning back to face her, a smirk present on his face. “Also you don’t gotta be so formal, just Sam will do.” Miyaki cleared her throat impatiently causing the two to look to the side before laughing together. “Well it looks like Yaki is getting impatient so if you girls need anything, I’ll be around. Dinner is at 6.” the older man gave her a once over before walking off to what she could only assume was the kitchen.
“Girlll and you been hiding him from me because??” (Y/n) asked, rubbing her hands together. Miyaki smacked her lips together, dragging the girl towards her room.
“You betta stop playing with me.” when her friend stayed quiet, the girl gasped, turning her head. “Wait you’re joking…you tryna get my dad to hit?! Oof.” she grunted as one of her pillows hit the back of her head. Turning she saw her friend on her bed, glaring at her.
“Don’t say it like that! All I said was he’s fine nothing more nothing less. That can’t be your first time hearing that, one of your other friends has had to say something.” She felt the girl thud down beside her on the bed. She hummed for a bit before flipping over to face her friend.
“I mean I can’t say I’m surprised really. You love you an older man. Remember when you switched to that one baking course just so you could flirt and make googly eyes with Mr.Garcia?”
“That’s not why I switched! I was simply interested in getting to know his favorite dessert!” (Y/n) exclaimed, turning her head the opposite way. “In hopes that maybe I could become his favorite dessert.” 
“Whateva. Anyways, you wanna watch a movie till dinner?”
—————————–
Dinner had been amazing. Sam went all out, pulled out the grill, made dessert, it was all so lavish and delicious! He even had lobster which (Y/n) made sure to take full advantage of. He had said help yourself and who was she to go against his wishes in his home? 
It was now around three in the morning as she stumbled around the house curiously. She and Miyaki had gone to bed early, absolutely exhausted from the long car ride over and while it was easy for her friend to stay asleep when turning in early, she found it hard to. No matter what if she went to bed before twelve she’d always end up waking up during some odd hour of the night. 
A sound came from down the hallway catching her attention. It was a repeated thudding and while usually she wouldn’t go chasing after mysterious noises, she knew it couldn’t be anything too bad. Sam had the security on this house underlock and she had seen how beefy his security guards were. 
Once she reached the end she turned the knob from the room in which the sound was coming from. Gasping quietly, she opened the door a little wider trying to be as quiet as she could. The sight in front of her was absolutely heavenly. There was Sam, shirtless, in nothing but a pair of grey joggers beating the hell out of a punching bag. His jabs were sharp and powerful causing the chains to rattle with each blow to the sack. Goosebumps formed all over her skin at the sight of his power. If he could do that to a punching bag, what could he do with her? 
All the  what ifs invaded her mind causing her to rub her thighs together hungrily in thought. She hadn’t even noticed that Sam had moved until the door she was standing in closed, leaving the two of them in the room together. He offered her a smile, a yawn interrupting his incoming words. His arms flexed above his head giving her an even better view of his muscles. It was an even grander sight than she had imagined when she saw him clothed earlier.
“Can’t sleep?” she shook her head at his question, sitting on the bench in front of him. “ ‘S alright. Why don’t you help me train then? Try to get me to the ground. Come on, don’t be shy, didn’t seem like you were earlier.”
———————————-
As expected, (Y/n) couldn’t get him to the ground at all! Time and time again he had managed to get her down but she couldn’t complain too much. Being this close to a hot and sweaty man? Having him touch and feel all over her body? She could get used to this.
“You know, for an old man you’re pretty strong!” (Y/n) was out of breath, sweat dripping down her chest. Letting out a deep breath she held a hand out for Sam to shake. He eyed it before taking it causing her to give him a devilish grin. Within a few seconds she had dragged him close, sweeping a foot under his leg. He fell like she intended but what she hadn’t done was calculating him keeping a hold on her wrist. The two both fell with a thud, Sam hitting the mat while the not so sneaky woman fell on top of him. She pushed herself up, hands flush against his chest as she straddled him, looking down at him. Her eyes widened at the feeling of two large hands gripping her ass, eyes trailing up to his.
“Didn’t you say you were having trouble sleeping? I think I got something that can put you right to sleep.” was this really happening? Was she hearing him correctly? That thought didn’t last long at the feeling of his dick poking at her through the fabric of his sweats. His dark eyes were practically black from how blown out his pupils were. Leaning forward, their lips connected. 
The kiss was slow and sensual like the vibes he gave off. His lips were soft, the taste of coffee mixed with his natural taste. As the kiss grew more heated, Sam flipped them over, laying the girl gently on the mat. He continued with a trail of kisses, from her neck, collarbone, his fingers massaging the flesh of her hips. His lips gave extra love to her chest, licking and sucking upon the brown sensitive buds. 
His open mouth trail of kisses slowly became sucking the further and further he got towards the center of her legs.
“C-careful. Don’t leave- don’t leave marks our else Miyaki might see.” she warned, causing him to pause momentarily. Lifting his head he chuckled some, brushing his thumb against the sensitive area of skin near her upper thigh. Whether or not it’d be visible in summer attire was something she wouldn’t know until she got dressed the next day. Massaging her legs, he leaned up near her face, softly caressing her cheek.
“You’re a smart girl, (Y/n). I’m sure you can figure it out.” she huffed but remained quiet, a pout prominent on her face. A large hand came to rest around her throat, squeezing lightly. “ I’d advise you to lose the attitude if you wanna go to bed satisfied.” She shuddered at his words but remained quiet, anxiously awaiting what he’d do next.
From the looks of it, he wasn’t sure where he was going to take it next. He was eager, lust clouding his brain and thoughts. Sam was now acting on primal instincts alone. He reached for her sleep shorts, peeling them off before tossing them to the side. Keeping the eye contact they had, he guided two of his fingers into the mess that was her cunt. Despite barely touching her, her pussy was beyond creamy, juices dripping out the further he stuck his fingers in. Long, thick digits made their way into her with ease.
He made sure their eyes were connected, his stern eyes in a narrow assertion of dominance while her own (e/c) ones were glossed over as she fought to keep them open and focused on him. It was an agreement that didn’t need to be spoken: her eyes were to be on him at all times. Every so often her eyes would jitter close as his fingers nudged against her spot but still she persisted, wanting to be good for him, to prove herself.
Sam removed his fingers, guiding them up to the girl’s lips. Her eyes widened, gagging around the digits as waiting tears finally fell. Once he was satisfied he removed them, positioning himself between her legs. Using his thumbs he spread apart her pussy lips, salivating. Her cunt was so plush, clit engorged and pulsating, just aching to be touched.
He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking on it as he swirled his tongue. The girl reached instantly, hands clinging to his head the best that she could as her hips arched forward. This is something Sam usually wouldn’t fly with but he’d allow it this once. An airy moan fell from her lips as she continued to buck against his face, pelvis jerking rapidly at the feeling of his fingers lightly teasing her around her hole.
(Y/n) felt her entire body buzzing with pleasure. Her hands searched for anything to cling onto as her orgasm approached her, making its way to her faster and faster. An overstimulated whimper left her lips followed by her slick coating the older man’s face and mouth which he gladly accepted, the most sinful of noises leaving him as he cleaned her up. Her clench eyes relaxed as her body fell limp to the mat, chest heaving in heavy breaths.
“You tapping out already, princess?” she lifted her head from the ground, propping herself up onto her elbows as she gave him a glare. Kicking him onto his back, she climbed into his lap, aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance, bits of his precum mixing with the reminisce of her arousal. 
“Not even close old man.” they both shared a loud groan as she sunk down onto him in one swift movement. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she tried to gain a hold on him, wanting to get the upper hand. However Sam was just so…large. His girth stretched her out greatly, the head of his cock just barely kissing her cervix causing her to let out a pathetic whimper. Sam chuckled some, wrapping his hands around her waist, guiding her own to rest around his shoulders.
“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you. You gotta relax though or it’s gonna be a toughy for both of us.” she nodded lazily at his words, tightening her grip on his shoulders, head under his chin. He rubbed at her back gently, feeling as her muscle began to untense around him. “Better?”
“Y-yes just move. Wanna feel you.” he placed a kiss to the top of her head before beginning to thrust, letting out a small ‘fuck’ under his breath. Despite her being fully relaxed and prepped, she was still so tight around him. After a bit of trial and error, he had finally managed to find a good rhythm but even with as patient as he was he couldn’t hold back any longer.
Locking his arms around the base of her spine, he gripped her in his arms, trading out his slow and deep thrust for a series of fast and shallow ones. The sounds she was making for him only egged him on as she babbled and drooled on about how she couldn’t take it, how good it felt. 
“O-oh god! ‘M not gonna la-last any longer! Wanna cum with you! Wanna- can we, pl-please!” she cried out, tears mixing with the mess of drool on her face. 
“Yeah? Let’s cum together then.” he agreed, not having much left in him himself. With a few final powerful thrust, Sam came deep inside of her, (Y/n) following right along with him. The girl fell forward into his chest, the both of them panting, holding each other covered in sweat. She let out a soft chuckle, looking up at the man who was already staring down at her.
(Y/n) had originally thought it was gonna be a long summer, but this was way different from what she had in mind. She was fucked.
Metaphorically and Physically.
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bonfireheart · 2 years
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title: Trust Takes…A Near-Death Experience?
blurb: the one in which the newest combat avenger that has limited healing abilities proves themselves. (fem!reader)
warnings: Clint should look around before leaving cover, Reader just wants acceptance (at the cost of hurting themselves), injury, medbay vibe?, passing out, the team are kinda mean to start with, swearing
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“Now, everybody follow instructions. Nobody go off and do their own thing, this is a quick in and out mission.”
The voice of the Captain boomed through the tech-clad jet, and the brightness from the overhead lights found love in my eyes, causing me to squint in attempt to see my surroundings.
“Stark, Nat and I will clear the pathway to the entrance. Wanda, Sam and Buck, cover and protect the perimeter. Clint and Y/N enter the building quietly, get the flash drive and leave. Don’t make contact with anyone inside.”
A chorus of “got its” and a cheeky “Sir yes sir” from Sam replaced the single voice. Clint made his way over to me, blindly handing me a small handgun.
“Just in case. You should stay behind me, stay in the shadows unless I tell you otherwise. This should be easy.”
His voice was sharp and I could tell he was annoyed I was partnered up with him. I felt the whole group’s eyes set on me and shuffled back in my seat awkwardly.
Stark stood up, lowering his helmet over his head. “Yeah and uh, when you see HYDRA agents try to stay loyal to us. I know they used to be a such a dear part of your life.”
Hostility was woven in his words, and snickers surrounded me. If the ground felt like eating me whole now would be the perfect time. Or eating them. That would be better, and it would be nice to see them grovelling for my help.
Ever since Fury took me in as a HYDRA escapee, the team have been less than pleased by my mere existence. I’m not stupid, I’ve heard them talking. Things about how they couldn’t trust me, that I was a double agent. It hurt sure, but I couldn’t blame them. Who would genuinely believe that an ex-convict would want to play hero to the world? That doesn’t make their words sting any less though. Wanda wasn’t always the good girl, and neither was Nat. Bucky was one of me for gods sake. The constant bitter phrases and venomous speeches filled my life. If I got hurt on a mission, I am convinced they’d just leave me.
“Great, they’ve already zoned out.” Bucky’s voice pulled me back into reality.
Truth is, this mission was kind of scaring me. They keep calling it a simple deal, but there’s too much history there for me. What if one of the agents walking around recognise me? Would they kill me? Or would they drag me back into that lifestyle? I don’t want any part of that, and I sure as hell am working everyday to repay the world for what I did against it.
“We’re here. Get ready.”
Wanda arose from the seat beside me, giving me one glance over before stationing herself behind the doors. Same with Natasha. And Cap, Tony, Bucky, Sam and Clint.
I sighed and stood, slowly pacing my way over to them. I shut my eyes and inhaled lightly, exhaled lightly. Just like Ma taught me.
The shudder of the doors opening reminded me to extra care of myself on this mission, stay in cover and do as I’m told. I’ve resigned myself to doing that every mission though. A part of me hopes that if I just let them control everything and make the rules, well then, maybe they’d start to warm up to the idea of me.
I felt Clint grab on to my arm as he tugged me towards some boulders sat just by the entrance. I allowed myself to be pulled along and crouched low to avoid being detected. We sat in silence together, I kept my eyes trained on the scene playing out before me. I watched as the others killed people quickly and quietly, and as Nat made her way to the door of the building and opened it, ready to kill any onlookers they may have missed. I felt Clint’s eyes place on to me a few times, either from concern or disgust, I’m not too sure, and I’d rather not know.
It was time. I stood from our cover and let Clint lead the way to the door. Nat offered him a small smile as he went inside, and instantly dropped it when she saw me.
Ouch.
‘Don’t let it get to you.’ I could hear my mother’s voice in my head. It chanted like it was some mantra until I found myself following what it was saying.
The inside of the building wasn’t that much different to the outside. It was bleak, grey and was a hub of sadness if anything. Clint was four steps ahead of me, and didn’t so much as turn around to see if I was even there. Part of me thinks he wouldn’t even question my disappearance, that he just expected me to turn double agent real quick and not look back.
We found the room quickly. It wasn’t hard to locate, nor was it well secured. Typical of HYDRA. They focused their resources in the wrong places. The metal door was heavy and rusted, turning into more of a bronze colouring. It was unlocked and made a loud ‘clank’ as we opened it.
I internally cringed as the sound rang through the empty hallways. The noise was starkly contrasted when a deafening silence fell upon us. Then the footsteps came running. One pair, two pairs, several pairs of people could be heard nearing us. And as if to mock us even further, a blaring alarm played out suddenly. If this wasn’t a serious situation, it possibly would of been funny.
The archer grabbed me by the wrist and quickly tugged us into the dark room, and we found solace behind a cabinet. It wasn’t long before the door to the enclosed space opened again, and from the corner of my eyes I could see the shine of flashlights reflecting against the silver panels of the area.
“раскрыть себя (reveal yourselves).”
I shuddered at the sound of Russian. It reminded me all too well of my past, a past I’m far from proud of. The footsteps paced around the room some more, before the flashlights turned off.
“все чисто (all clear).”
Slowly, the resonating footsteps got further and further away. I knew better than that though. There is at least two men still in this room, I know HYDRA like the back of my hand. ‘Sad that they haven’t changed their ways after all these years’, and god I need to stop thinking serious situations are funny.
Before I could garner my attention back to Clint, his grasp on me lessened and though I tried stop him, he moved into plain sight.
Silence.
I held my breath and prepared for what came next, it was inevitable.
I heard Clint sigh, “Shit.”
“Ah Mr Barton, рад встрече (nice to meet you).”
A gruff Russian accent coated the man’s words, the tension in the air was thick and surrounded the room. I watched as Hawkeye slowly reached back for an arrow, setting it into his bow. I felt helpless, I couldn’t blow my cover just yet, and Clint is way too egotistical to ask for help. But still, I know this is not going to end well for him, no matter how skilled he is, he is way too outnumbered. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Ping.
The sound of a sleek, metal point hitting its bullseye in the shape of a man’s head. And lord, Clint has just brought war upon himself.
Before he could reload, or I could pull out my weapon, I heard as the door slammed open and more agents rushed in. Curse the archer for thinking he always knows best.
Gunshots resonated throughout the building, and one could only pray the others could hear it. A hand reached up to my ear piece quickly, and I pressed on it.
“Guys! Backup plea-Clint!”
I watched in horror as he dropped to the floor with a vast array of gunshot wounds taken nest on his shoulders, stomach, torso and just below his heart.
Grabbing my gun from my holster, I left cover and finished off the final three men in the room. I looked around the floor, and fair dues to Barton, he had managed to take out a fair few of them. A groan articulated from beside me and I dropped to my knees in concern. I knew I didn’t have long before more HYDRA officials found their way here and could just hope that the rest of the team would come bursting through the door.
“Clint! Clint, look at me ok? You need to stay still, I’m going to heal you, don’t move.”
My words were shaky and unstable, I don’t know if he could even understand me. But even if I was speaking properly, this man is at deaths door and words wouldn’t be comprehensible anyway. My hands rested comfortably above Clint, a small gap allowing for the particles to flow out of my hands and over his body. I worked silently, even when the door slammed open. One, two, three, four…there was at least fifteen gunshots covering him. I don’t know how far my healing ability can cope with this. I had only ever used it on myself, it was simple trick that was injected into me by HYDRA to ensure they could keep sending me out on mission after mission.
I didn’t dare move even when I heard shouts of Russian around me, or shots being fired into me, all that mattered was making sure his family had their husband and dad in one piece. I watched as his wounds slowly covered over, and as the bleeding came to a stop. My hands didn’t leave him until I knew for sure that every little mark on him was healed.
Pain pricked into me, it was didn’t hurt that much yet it made me scream. I looked up in horror and was met by the rest of the team. It felt like everything was in slow motion now. My head felt woozy and light.
‘Huh, so at least I know I can heal a pretty much dead man’. Not now brain…not now.
My eyes fluttered open and shut like a butterfly, the voices of the team were drained and quiet and my vision was blurry.
The sound of me dropping to the floor.
•/\•
Beep.
“She’s waking up, get Bruce.” “She’s awake?” “Shut up, you’re being too loud.” “You shut up!”
Open door.
“Bucky, Sam. She does not need to hear loud noises right now of all times.”
“…sorry Bruce.”
Footsteps, shut door.
My senses slowly came back to me. I can hear my heart monitor. I can feel a blanket clad around my body. I can smell disinfectant, a aroma of cleanliness. I can taste the metallic tang of blood. I let my eyes open and instantly winced at the light compared to darkness of shut eyes.
“Oh! Sorry about that.” Bruce walked over to my bed and pushed the bright lamp that shone over me to face the wall.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like the devil tried finishing the job.”
He laughed in a geeky sort of way. I don’t mind Bruce. I’ve never met met somebody who contrasted their hero alias as much as him, but I guess that’s what made him more likeable. I saw him slightly tamper with the many wires attached to my hand. He must of felt my eyes on him,
“I’m just upping the morphine.”
“No need.” I allowed my hands to perch on top of my chest and focused my energy towards myself. Gradually, it felt like the ton of bricks was being lifted from my shoulders.
“That works too, I guess. Super cool by the way, the healing thing, wish I had that.”
The door crashed open again, this time the team came stumbling into the room.
“I said one at a time!” Natasha spoke up.
“Yeah, you just always got to be right dont you?”
“Stark, I will widow bite you.”
Wanda made her way over to me with a steaming bowl. It smelt amazing, and my stomach was absolutely begging for food. Not to mention the need to recharge my energy.
“It’s gulyas. My mama’s recipe. I’ve seen you eat it before so I just thought…”
“Thank you Wanda. It smells like home.” I leant forward to take the bowl from her.
“Should you be feeding yourself?” She asked as she moved the bowl away from me quickly.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I can heal myself. I feel good as new. Just a little rough round the edges is all.” I joked light-heartedly.
The Sokovian looked doubtful as she passed it over to me, setting it gently on my side table and produced a spoon. By now, Bruce had managed to calm the others down, reminding them they were in a medical facility.
Clint awkwardly cleared his throat and captured the attention of everyone.
“I uh…just wanted to thank you for healing me. I thought that mission might of been my last so just..yeah..thanks.”
I smiled at him.
“Hey, it’s part of the job right? Protecting people. Nobody said it had to be just civilians.”
Steve lightly nudged Tony.
“My turn already?”
The others looked at him with annoyed glances.
“Ugh fine. Listen Nightingale, we just wanted to…apologise for how we treated you. You clearly have the teams best…interests at heart.”
Groans encompassed the space.
“Really Tony?” “You could of been slightly heartfelt!”
“What Tony is trying to say Y/N, is that we were unfair. Especially considering the fact that three of us were the same as you…technically four but Tony made weapons of destruction so I’d argue that’s worse.” Natasha cut in, looking towards me hopefully.
“Forgive us? Start afresh?”
I looked down in my lap. It felt weird hearing them say sorry. Or even having their attention full stop.
“I’m not going to lie and say I can just move on from this…it kinda hurt the way I was treated. It felt like when I was trying to finally put stuff right, I was just being shunned even more…”
“That was our fault. Completely.”
“But, I am willing to try. You guys seem cool when you’re nice.” I laughed quietly.
“Seem? Seem? I AM cool.”
“Tony, for fucks sake.”
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kittybeansbarnes · 5 months
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Monster lovin’
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Warnings: SMUT LIKE CRAZY. Angst with happy end
Word count:1.6k
A/n: just a little spooky season lovin’. Sam does things to me. Beta’d by @soorwellystan as always😝💕 I hope y’all like this one😭 ALSO?? What’s with the lack of Sam fics I mean the dude can get it like? ANYWAY Sam Wilson I’m in love with you. Non-descriptive reader. She’s not “tiny” it’s just that Sam’s huge in this😭
Pairing: Frankenstein!Sam x wizard!reader
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Somewhere deep in the forest lies kingdoms ruled by two different kings. The first king Rogers rules the kingdom of Brooklyn with an iron fist. Keeping all crafts and darkness from his people. The other King, Stark ruler of the kingdom of Manhattan is an inventor born from a witch. Crazy to most but not to the ghouls and creatures that roam the forest at night. The citizens of the dark that have been shunned deep in the forest, away from society. Forced to live their life in the shadows.
You and your husband Sam moved here to the village of Manhattan to escape the angry mobs of Brooklyn who condemned you for your wizardry. Deeming you both devil worshippers. Even though you moved they still harass you both. Sending hunters to your cabin and burning your gardens, only to find their efforts futile when your garden is revived the next day. It was all fun and games until one day it wasn’t.
Sam was walking home one night when a group of young hunters circled him and beat him to death leaving him on your doorstep to find in the morning. Your cries rang throughout the forest. Haunting the people of both kingdoms.
Sam was all you had left. The only person in this world who understood you. He didn’t treat you like a servant house wife. He understood your passion for science and the occult.
When you found him on your front porch you fell to your knees sobbing over his corpse. That day you promised you’d avenge him. You took him into your lab and went to work.
You spent weeks coming up with different potions and spells to revive your lover. Visiting different witches, goblins and ghouls trying to get a piece of information. All while Sam's corpse rots in your lair.
Finally after weeks of research you’ve got it. You’ve come up with the perfect serum to revive your husband and get revenge on those cruel town folk. The spell required lighting and with the little weather spell in your clutch you were set.
Strapping Sam's body to the metal slab, you opened the roof hatch. Rain and wind pouring down inside your lab, a loud thinker strike bringing a sadistic smile to your face. Walking up to his body you administer the serum.
“This might hurt a bit my love”
Grabbing six syringes you gather them in your hands and jab them into his chest, injecting the serum into him. You turn around and walk to the lever and raise the metal platform. His body is rising higher and higher near the Lightning rods on the roof.
You hold your breath waiting for them to catch a ray. A loud explosion makes you jump up in excitement and run towards the lever to lower your lover and close the roof.
You breath hitches when you see him again. His body seems larger. Monstrously large, it’s like every part of him you loved is 3x larger.
In your distraction of his size you don’t notice his eyes snapping open or his hand lifting until you feel it wrapped about your neck.
“Sam! Sam it’s me. Your wife” you choke out as he walks you back towards the wall. He grunt in response and looks you over growling in appreciation
“Tiny girl. Pretty tiny girl”
You look at him flustered and confused
“You don’t remember me?” You ask sadden when he shakes his head no.
“No sad tiny girl. I make happy?”
You roll your eyes at this monster version of your husband moving around him to get to your book of spells looking for a memory restoration spell. He lets out a sad grunt at the loss of you from his body
“I’m not “tiny girl”. You’re just ridiculously huge, must’ve been the serum. Of course the goblins didn’t tell me about this side effect. Never trust the fae.” And it’s true. Where your husband once stood 5 feet 11 inches tall he’s now a good 6 feet 6 inches, his biceps bigger than your head and his thighs as thick as tree trunks. Makes you wonder what else was enlarged. The thought sends a wave of heat throughout your body.
“Still tiny girl” his voice startled you. You didn’t hear him walking up to you, his body caging you to your desk “pretty tiny girl” your eyes flutter shut when you feel his bulge grind into your back making you curse. He’s HUGE “I make happy tiny girl? Make you feel good?”
You turn around to look at your undead lover. Your eyes lower to look at the tent in his pants and then back up into his eyes, giving him a little smirk. “I suppose the spell can wait” he gives you a spine tingling grin and lifts you up by the back of your thighs, carrying you to the metal platform he once laid. Your lips slotting over his, sighing in content at the feeling you haven’t felt in weeks.
He slams you against the metal, detaching his lips from yours to roughly lift the skirt of your dress. He growls in appreciation when he sees your bare cunt.
“Dirty tiny girl” his hands slide up your thighs slowly squeezing until his fingers reach your wet folds. Slipping through and collecting your wetness making you moan softly “fuck, I guess there’s one thing you didn’t forget huh” you chuckle through soft gasps
His large fingers circling your clenching core sending a fresh gush of arousal to leak from you. Slowly he curls a finger in making your breath hitch. He growls as your pussy clamps down tight on his finger. He slowly thrusts his finger in, the feeling almost overwhelming. You hadn’t felt this since the night before his passing. Slowly pulling out he adds another and picks up the pace. Fucking your tight wet cunt with two thick fingers. The palm of his hand rubbing against your clit makes you sit forward to chase the feeling.
All too soon you feel the tightening in your belly. The wet sounds of his fingers fucking you so good, stretching you out to take his cock. The thought of his already large dick getting bigger with the serum breaks you. The feeling washes over, pure bliss cumming on his fingers. You let out a soft whine at the slick pop of his fingers leaving your pussy.
“I make tiny girl feel good?”
You give him a wistful smile “yeah baby you made me feel good.” You look down at the tent in his pants “but you know what would make me feel better?” He grunt in question willing to do anything to make the pretty lady in front of him feel good
Your hand trails up his thigh, fingers brushing his clothed cock making him buck his hips forward. Unbuttoning his pants and slipping them down as his thick, hard, long cock springing out and slapping his abs. Your mouth agape at the sight.
Wrapping your hand around him your fingers can barely touch. You give him a few strokes standing and guiding him to lay down on the metal platform. Straddling him you grind your hips over his twitching length coating him in your arousal. You lift yourself and guide him to your entrance, both of you moaning at the feeling. His fat cock stretching you out painfully good. He’s the biggest you’ve had even before the serum but now you can barely fit him in. You lift yourself off him and sink down taking him inch by inch until he’s fully nestled in you. You lay your body over him and slot your lips over his.
The feeling of you around him makes him excited. He wraps his arms around you bending his knees and fucks up into you. Grunting and growling into your ear while you moan in pain and pleasure.
He flips you over on your back. Covering your smaller body with his large one. Desperately rutting into you
“Pretty girl so good” he grunts finding his rhythm and slowly remembering how to fuck you good. His thrusts are fast and deep. His cock pressing into all the right spots making you cry out for him. The pressure brings tears to your eyes, making him hum in confusion “why pretty girl cry?” He asks not stopping his brutal thrusts.
“It’s good tears baby. It’s good-so good” you manage to choke out.
“Oh fuck Sammy I’m gonna cum keep going baby. Come on my little monster keep going” you yell as he fucks into you deeper and harder.
“Feel funny tiny girl. Feel so good. What happening?” His brows furrow as he practically whines.
“It’s ok baby you’re gonna feel good. Keep going keep going on my god oh my god” you pant while cumming on his cock milking his own orgasm from him. Thick ropes of cum spilling into your warm walls. His body falling into yours. The weight of him makes you feel safe as you both catch your breath. You push him lightly to get him to lift himself off you. His soft cock slipping out of you making his cum trickle out of you. He lets out a confused noise as he watches the cum spilling from your pussy
“What that tiny girl?”
You laugh softly at his curious expression.
“It’s love baby. My love and yours” you scoop some up and bring it to his lips. Smearing your mixed arousal on them. “It tastes good doesn’t it?” You bring the finger towards your lips licking up the cum humming at the taste making his cock twitch again.
“Love? Love good?”
“Love is so good baby. It’s what me and you have” you raise yourself to your knees and give him a small peck on his lips. Giving him a mad grin. “Are you ready to get our revenge sweetie?”
He smiles back giving you a growl in affirmation.
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fandomnerd9602 · 4 months
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Samantha Wilson / Falcon Catch Up
A Force Headcanons
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How You Met
You were a vet dealing with your own trauma when you went to a support group that Sam was running. You met her and you felt that the dark clouds that haunted you couldn’t affect you anymore.
Favorite Date
Samantha loves going on runs with you in the early mornings. They give her an excuse to take a shower with you later. Also she loves spending a good hour or so listening to the trouble man album.
Favorite Place to Make Out
Her apartment. Every room has a different purpose in her mind. ;)
Soft Yandere
She’ll occasionally use her wing pack to grab you from your runs. “I need you, baby” she’ll purr in your ear before launching into the upper stratosphere with you in her arms.
After a Big Fight
She’ll either box or listen to music on her headphones. You’ll find her and it doesn’t take long for her to either hand you a pair of boxing gloves or her headphones so you can cool off listening to music together.
Reuniting after Endgame
You were working with the Avengers for the five year gap. You were like their support group leader. You were pulled out of the Compound wreckage by your amazing girlfriend in her flight suit.
Kids and How Many
You and her are happy being there for her nephews in Louisiana. They’re the only kids you feel you need at this point. But you and Sam are always open to the discussion
When She Makes You Run Late
She pulls you back in bed and wraps her arms and legs around you. “I give you a lift later. Stay with me, baby” you can’t help but obey her.
Tags: @ma1egamer @deafeningsharkslimeempath @konstantin609 @iamnicodemus
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rqgnarok · 8 months
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catalogue - sam wilson
fandom: marvel, the falcon & the winter soldier
wc: 4,368
warnings: implied smut, mentions of injuries and scars, blood and bruises. neutral pronouns, no use of (y/n).
summary: you and sam don’t get to see each other often, but when you do, there’s a ritual you insist on going through to deal with your time apart. 
masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi
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You’re a sight for Sam’s sore eyes. 
He hasn’t seen you in over six months. It’s an occupational hazard, he knows, but it’s the worst. Being the Falcon made his personal life take a step back in his list of priorities, and becoming Captain America meant setting the list on fire and declaring Sam Wilson’s downtime practically nonexistent. As far as he’s aware, Sarah and the boys are the only exceptions to the rule.
It’s not all on him. You’re an Avenger, too, even if you’re semi-retired. Semi, because the new kids still look for guidance as much as they can and you still keep a room at the Avengers compound because of it, even if scarcely decorated. 
You make your entrance by scaring the shit out of him because of course, you have to. 
“Is this what you call watching your six?”
Sam puffs out a sound between a scoff and a laugh. It’s always an interesting mix of emotions with you, Sam has never felt so safe and yet unbalanced than when he’s in your presence. It creates a sort of vacuum in his belly that has him feeling like a kid with a crush, but he’ll die before he ever admits that to anyone. Especially you.
“You know you don’t have to sneak up on me every time.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” you quip, raising your brows and extending a hand that Sam takes to haul himself back on his feet. You click your tongue. “Gotta say, though, it’s a little less charming now that you’re Captain America. Where does that leave national security?”
Sam rolls his eyes so hard he’s about to give himself a headache, dusting off his ass and giving you a quick once-over, taking advantage of your sudden closeness to do so freely. “Thank Jesus the world still has you, then.”
“Only half time,” you shrug, unaware that Sam knows you’ve spent more time at the Avengers compound than your own apartment lately. If he has a few eyes that check up on you when you’re there, well. It’s only cause he worries. “You and Barnes playing in the Big Leagues leaves a lot of unfinished business for little guys like us.”
“Says the little guy who’s been to space,” Sam uses the same argument he always does when you try to downplay your importance in the job you do. It’s like a script, these meetings of yours, always under the excuse of responsibility until it’s not– until the conversation flows into what Sam has been aching for since the last time he saw you. 
You roll your eyes like he knew you would. You’ve been an Avenger since before they had the name for it, so if anyone deserves the semi-retirement, Sam concedes, it’s gotta be you. He won’t pretend it won’t be a big hit when you choose to walk away completely, though. Whether that’s to the business or Sam’s life, well. That’s another conversation.
He misses you. It’s hardly a crime. 
“And they’ve still got us doing intel like we’re rookies,” you shrug, lessening your significance anyway. As if you weren’t up there in the cosmos chasing after freaking Thanos, but Sam won’t argue with you about this. You already spend so little time together to waste it building conflicts between you.
“Please,” Sam’s a professional, so he doesn’t make a bitchface and say girl with disbelief coating his tone, but judging from the amusement that glints in your eyes, you read through the lines with ease. “Like we’d let the children anywhere near this.”
“Okay, Dad,” you snort. “How are Torres and Barnes anyway?”
“The kid and his grandpa are fine,” he goes for annoyed but his grin is boyish and unrestrained. “Jealous they weren’t authorized to drop by. This is practically a vacation, you know.”
You shake your head, but all in good fun. “If your bosses have you thinking that then you desperately need some real downtime.”
“This is as close as it gets, these days.” 
Torres had flown him all the way to Switzerland just so Sam could go and spend a few weeks in a rustic, semi-abandoned town on the outskirts of the city where an old SHIELD safehouse still stood against all odds. 
Why he had to go to the other side of the world for some intel, he asked and got no answer. Now it comes to mind how he has no idea where you– his contact– have been stationed lately nor what kind of work you’ve been pulling for whoever it is you answer to these days.
You don’t tell him about it, and he’s quit on trying to ask. Whether it’s because you don’t think he’ll approve of what you’re doing or because it’s strictly classified, Sam doesn’t know. 
“Blink twice if they’re holding you hostage,” you say in all seriousness, and he peels his eyes at you without blinking, getting close to your face. You laugh, pushing him away. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re one with the nation. Let me show you these files and see what Mr. America makes of ‘em.”
The physical files you actually bring with you are minimal, and most of the data you’ve been ordered to skim through is kept in a USB you hand to Sam as soon as the coffee has kicked in. Neither of you are exactly sure what it is you’re looking for so you’re stuck in the studio of the tiny, look-at-me-wrong-and-I’ll-crumble safe house for over three whole days before you finally start gathering some worthy intel.
“I was told we’d known when we found it,” you shrug, not visibly bothered by the fact that you’ve most likely been sent on a wild goose chase. “Or if we didn’t. We might go back empty-handed after all.”
It’s not encouraging but it’s what you’ve got, even if Sam isn’t sure he’s able to be out of commission for that long. He’s realized people get antsy when Captain America isn’t seen somewhere in the world after a few days, but despite how hard he tries he’s not able to be in two places at once.
“Yet,” he tells you when you take a food break and you allow him to rant about these troubles. “Haven’t figured it out yet, but Steve kind of managed it after a few years, right?”
“Steve was superhuman,” you remind him helpfully behind your coffee cup. You’d found some old whiskey at the back of a cabinet and doused your drink with it, so you make a face when it goes down. 
“You don’t think I’m super?”
“I think you’re something, alright.”
“Aw. That was almost a compliment.”
“Can’t let it get to your head, hotshot. Ego’s already too big for your body.”
It’s so fucking domestic Sam feels the ache of it in his teeth. You, sitting at the table in your tiny kitchen while he sits on the counter, each drinking your coffee how you like it as the sun sets through the window above the sink. Talking for hours until you realize you’re practically sitting in the dark as the afternoon flew by while you were taken with each other’s company. 
But then you go back to looking at intel until your eyes are burning and you excuse yourself to pass out on the couch. You do it almost half an hour to the dot before Sam gives up himself, and he’s pretty sure you know enough of his tells to know when he’s getting tired and make an early escape so he doesn’t take the couch himself. 
“You take the bed,” he’d offered the first night, having a little trouble not making it sound like an order. By how you’d raised your eyebrow, he’d failed by a mile. “God knows where you’re sleeping these days. It’s the least I can do after dragging you all the way out here.”
“You’re the one who keeps saying he’s on vacation,” you take your bags from his hands and drop them unceremoniously on the coffee table, marking the living room territory as yours. “And I’m sure the US government will kill me if I bring you back with a fucked up back.”
He almost suggested you could share. You have before, both out of necessity and leisure, but Sam’s sure that topic’s on the list of Things Not To Talk To You About. It might be the first one up there, in all caps and underlined with bright red. 
Sam has both held you down to fuck your brains out and held your bleeding body in his hands, pressing against a gunshot wound to keep blood flow to a minimum. It’s a fucked up type of intimacy he doesn’t share with anyone else, but he’s still hesitant to bring it up. Somehow both events keep happening whether he intends for them or not. 
It’s like he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, and it finally does on the fifth day of your assignment. 
You ultimately get a lead from the USB. It guides you to search for a random code you insist it’s on a file you’d read through already. You make a noise of victory under your breath when you spot it across the table and when you shift to reach for it, your breath hitches.
It’s a quiet thing Sam wouldn’t be able to acknowledge if he weren’t good at his job, but he is. 
“What is it?” he asks, suddenly alert, fingers twitching with the urge to hover over you worriedly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head. Whatever shadow of hesitance had fallen over you is pulled back into place, tucked away for Sam to blissfully ignore. 
You both know that shit won’t fly, but Sam thinks it’s cute you try anyway.
He stares at you and you avoid his eye long enough, face buried in the file, to know you know he’s noticed. It’s a silent request to let it pass. 
Tough fucking luck. Sam calls your name, admonishing.
“Sam,” you say right back at him in the same tone, still not looking at him. Sam grinds his teeth in annoyance, jaw tight. 
“Are you hurt?”
You shake your head. “I’m fine. You know how it is.”
It’s not a no. 
“I do know,” Sam agrees, but his mood’s a short fuse. “Are you grounded? Is that why you’re here? Because you’re hurt?”
Fucking jackpot. You exhale through your nose and tighten your jaw at the question but refuse to answer. You’re a couple of feet apart, divided by the desk filled with files and information, but somehow this is the closest he’s felt to you since you got here. 
You’d been hiding something since the beginning; taking the couch when you could’ve been sharing the bed from the start, touching him less than usual so things wouldn’t go further, and moving around the house with rigid, calculated movements.
“Manning the desk,” he says with a little too much bite, and he can physically watch your hackles rise; the annoyance in your eyes when they finally meet his, the biting of your cheek to stop yourself from rising to his sudden passive-aggressive hostility. “Handing me files, giving me intel. You’re flying halfway across the world to keep yourself out of the field.”
“Sam,” you say through gritted teeth. 
“You’re hurt,” he replies, not a question, nodding at your torso. It’s all suddenly painstakingly clear, the past week flashing through his mind like a movie from a different point of view. “And you’re hiding it from me, for some reason.”
“Is that all, Captain?” you ask, creating distance with the use of his new title in a way he despises and you know he does. You’re good at that, finding where it hurts and pressing methodically until the skin gives. Sam’s just not used to the trick being used on him. “Or is there something else about my person that you’ve figured out and have yet to enlighten me about?”
“Let me see,” he ignores you. It's easier than trying to match your level of cruel cleverness.  He stands to cross over to your side of the desk, staring down at you expectantly with arms crossed. “Come on, show me.”
“No,” you deadpan, but the way you wrap your arms carefully around yourself shows the defensiveness underneath your nonchalance. “Sam, come on, what the hell are you doing?”
“If you’re not hurt, then show me,” he insists but doesn’t reach to touch you without your permission. It’s a line he won’t cross. 
“Is that an order, sir?” you snap.
“I’m not your superior,” he replies, even though he is, technically, but not when you’re alone. Not when you’re hurt. “I’m your friend. And right now my friend is in pain, I’d like to be able to do something about it.”
“Like what?” you ask, and it’s as exhausted as it is conflictive. Thunder rumbles outside the house and inside Sam’s chest, two storms coming in. “Huh, Sam? What are you gonna do? It’s part of the damned job. Don’t tell me you’re injury-free right now.”
Sam isn’t. Both old and newer scars put a heaviness on his body he’s not supposed to carry, but he’s not the one hiding right now. 
“I can hold you,” he offers and watches the way you look away, imagining the sting in your eyes as they glisten with sudden tears. You very visibly refuse to shed them, tightening your jaw and passing saliva like it’s gravel. “If you’d let me. Let’s not pretend we haven’t done it before.”
“It’s different now.”
“Why?” he wonders, brow furrowing. He does his best to relax his stance and reaches to touch your tight fists where they lay on your lap. With his fingertips barely there on your skin, the tension bleeds out of them like magic almost against your will. “Because I’m Captain America? Because you won’t tell me where you’re stationed half the time?”
“It’s–”
“Classified,” he finishes for you, unmoved. “But you’re still you, and I’m still me. As far as I’m aware, that doesn’t change a damned thing.”
You close your eyes like the words pain you, resolve crumbling right before Sam’s eyes. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”
“Then don’t,” from Sam’s perspective, it’s as simple as that. “Let me see. Let me be with you, please. The last week has been torture.”
You let out a breath of a laugh that’s a little too miserable. “You’re telling me,” you say, and the slope of your shoulders falls from its tense, defensive curve. Sam takes it as the green light it is.   
You stand straighter as he kneels in front of you, his hands hovering over the hem of your shirt. He looks to you for permission and you give him a tight nod, staring at the wall instead of him, gulping down your anxieties.
Sam’s breath catches when he lifts your shirt and sees your torso, skin showered in black, blue, purple, and green bruises. “Jesus.”
“It’s worse than it looks,” you say automatically. Sam can’t see how that’s true. It looks like it hurts to even breathe, it’s unbelievable how you were able to hide it from him for so long. “Nothing’s broken, I swear.”
“What the hell happened?” he asks even if he knows you can’t– or won’t– answer. You sigh, and he watches blemished skin shake with the effort it takes. 
“I’m alright,” you say instead of the answer he wants, but your voice has softened and lost all fight response. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve been with him since you arrived and it has nothing to do with showing your skin. “Hey, I’m okay. That assignment’s over for good. I’m not going back there, I promise.”
The sigh of relief Sam lets out is shaky and doesn’t relinquish all the tension he’s been carrying. The possibilities of what must’ve happened are gonna haunt him long after this mission’s over. 
“I hate it,” he says, and he knows you know what he means. Not knowing where you are, spending more than half the year apart with zero contact, this unease between you that doesn’t let you be honest. 
You say, tired. “I know. Sam–”
Sam isn’t touching you– not yet. He’s careful so there’s no skin-to-skin contact, and you look at him with guarded eyes when he lowers your shirt back into place, standing up and towering over you. 
“What?”
You breathe air out of your nose, frustrated. “You know.”
A beat. “You sure?” he says, as plainly as he can with the tension that’s grown between you pulling him forward.
“Yes.”
He hums.
“Oh. You gonna let me touch you now, then?” he asks, still under the excuse of medical purposes only. But Sam can’t help the way his voice deepens, molten like honey. His eyes trail over skin that isn’t blemished: the curve of your neck, the lines of your arms, the slope of your fingers. 
You shiver under the attention, helpless to hide such a reaction to his voice. “Mmm? Honey?”
“Fuck you,” you say automatically, already opening your legs slightly for Sam to slip in between them, reaching for your jaw. You close your eyes at the touch, sighing away whatever tension remained in you. 
You’re too fucking easy, despite the fight you insisted on going through before letting yourself be touched, and something in Sam’s belly tightens at the idea of it being just for him.
Sam’s hands remain on your jaw and throat as he tilts your head up for a kiss, slow and deep, lingering. It’s not long before you open up for him, his tongue sliding into your mouth like it was always meant to be there, coaxing a whine from you while you search for steadiness and settle your hands on his belt. Not pulling, not searching for more– not yet– but keeping him close. 
The storm comes and goes and the files in the studio remain forgotten. Sam finally gets you on the bed and, better yet, with him in it. 
He’s a little too careful, hands cupping your ribs with extreme caution after finally getting rid of your shirt for good and laying you down against the sheets. You roll your eyes fondly and grab onto his wrists to direct him where you want him. 
He doesn’t complain as he takes your directions. The man will greedily take anything you give him in calloused, expert hands as he does his best to pull sounds out of you that are music to his ears. 
After it’s over, you both lay in bed, naked and breathless. You find a new scar on him and trace the ragged line of skin gently with your fingertip, touch featherlight, almost nonexistent. It’s been over half a year since you last did this, but only a couple of months since he got himself injured and stitched up by Bucky in the Brazilian jungle. “This one’s new.”
It had been a quick job, good enough considering the circumstances, which is to say Sam now has an ugly, uneven scar a couple of inches above his hipbone that saved him from bleeding out on his partner.
The memory holds no gentleness, but your fingers do. The haze of his previous orgasm leaves Sam pliant under your touch, melted against the sheets and uncaring of your scrutiny. “Barnes?”
Sam makes an affirmative noise, a valid enough question since sometimes he’s admitted to doing patchwork on himself for the sake of the mission, uncaring of how bad it hurts as long as it’s quick and efficient.
“Did it hurt?”
“Like hell,” he admits, feeling safe enough to do so in the cocoon you’ve built for yourselves. Sam runs a hand up and down your naked back as if trying to soothe the brunt of the memory. “Did the job, though. Got us out alive.”
At that, you lean to kiss the skin, only slipping a bit of tongue into it. Sam sighs, ignoring the prick of discomfort that’s trying to crawl up his spine and leaning towards the softer, more tender sentiment that takes over him whenever you get like this. It’s not easy for him to accept such gentleness, to let himself be cared for and lay there, unable to give something back.
He will, in a minute. But he knows you like him like this, and that alone pins him down in his place to let you work. It’d be hypocritical of him, he thinks as his hips twitch with renowned interest, to not let you fret after him when his own worry is what got you here in the first place.
After you’re satisfied, you trail the path Sam’s grown accustomed to, the very same you follow every time you sleep together after a terribly long amount of time: 
The knife scar under his pec from when they were chasing after Bucky, still the Winter Solider, superficial enough not to have caused concern at the time. The mark from when he got his appendix out, thinking nothing of the stabbing aches to his belly until he was doubling over in his bed and waking up half his platoon as he retched in the bathroom.
The dot on his finger where Riley accidentally stabbed him with a pencil once, sleep deprived and with two shots of whiskey on him. The wound had healed with ease but the mark made a permanent home on his skin, barely visible unless you leaned in close enough to look for it.
The scab on his knee from falling off his bike when he was six. Sarah had screeched bloody murder until their parents came out of the house to see what all the fuss was about. The scar left behind by a bullet on his right shoulder during his second tour in Afghanistan. 
The cut on his lip he got shaving for the first time is always last on your list. Sam has long stopped calling you out on it, how convenient it was that the cataloging of his scars always ended with a thorough, slow kiss to his mouth that usually bloomed into a second round. 
He found that you got skittish when he did so, pulling back into yourself and laying tensely in bed for a couple more minutes before you started looking around for your clothes, called out.
Now Sam only cups your jaw, tugs a little so it opens your mouth and he can slip in his tongue and steal a taste of your sigh. He wants you like this for as long as possible; vulnerable, unguarded, desperate to touch him and be touched back. Safe enough to know that you never have to ask for something he wants to give you so willingly. 
You always forget. The second you meet again, you have to start the whole dance over. Fish for excuses to meet each other in the middle, hoping for new scars to lengthen your time together. 
Sam isn’t a masochist by any means, and he’s not an adrenaline junkie asshat who chases the danger just to have proof on his skin that he can take all the grievances life throws at him.
But. But–
“We’re alright,” you say against his mouth, body warm and seeking on top of his. He’s mindful of your injuries but can’t help himself, the urge to touch you overrules any other instinct he owns. It makes him weak, on the field, but happy off of it. “Aren’t we? We’re gonna be alright.”
“‘Course we are, honey,” his southern charm pops out and you’re both parts equally pleased and unamused, a funny expression on your face that has him laughing as he cups the back of your neck to bring you in for another kiss. “What? What’s with the face?”
“Nothin’, pumpkin,” you imitate his accent and Sam focuses his ministrations on your jaw and neck, trying to get you to break character. “We’re gonna be just fine, sugar plum. You’re sure lookin’ very pretty tonight, peach fuzz.”
Sam splutters out a laugh. “Peach fuzz?”
“That’s what you sound like!”
“See if I ever call you something nice ever again.”
“You can’t resist me,” you say seriously, though a smile keeps trying to break your facade. “You literally lasted five days before taking me to bed. That’s on being weak, Wilson.”
“Some might say it’s a world record for me, baby,” he says, poking at your face until you show teeth, happy and at ease in his arms. “The six months before that were a little bit of a stretch, too.”
Your mood dampens a little but Sam won’t let it, nudging his nose against yours to catch your attention again. “Hey. What did I just say? We’re gonna be alright. Five days, six months, five years, it’s nothing. They mean shit when I get to see you again.”
The mention of the Snap unguards you further. He’d been gone while you tried to keep your life together, ignoring the Sam-shaped void in your surroundings. The first time you got together after he came back had been tainted by the grief of losing three of the best people you’d ever known, and he’d done his own reconnaissance of your skin as he took in new scars, new hurts that had happened and healed while he was gone.
You smile again, but it’s softer, fonder, a tender tilt of the lips for the man you managed to find in this chaotic line of work that became your whole life.
In another five days, you’ll once more be on opposite ends of the world without any idea of when you’ll see each other again or what new marks you’ll have on your skin that describe your time apart. You haven’t even put a name to this– this relationship that both of you are still too hesitant to define as such, but that’s okay. 
It’s okay. It’s more than enough. The path of scars will be there to take when you meet again, permanent proof that you’ve survived to find the way to each other over and over and over again. The map that leads to you, every goddamn time.
___
hi!!!
hope you like this one! i’ve been putting this fic on the back burner for almost a month now, but i’m so glad to finally have finished it! i hope to put out the tommy miller sequel for dial drunk next week before school starts :)
thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, etc.!
<3
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greatapebroly · 2 years
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Tony: What’s up with Y/N? They’ve been laying on the floor for like….an hour now?
Sam: They're just a little overwhelmed.
Tony: Why?
Sam: Nat smiled at them.
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okay-j-hannah · 1 year
Text
They’re Jealous Of You
Preference
Characters: Druig, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker
Warnings: Peter’s has a spoiler from No Way Home - but I hope you all have seen that by now 🥰
Request: “I can't see your new character list so tell me if you don't write about someone here, okay? 😁 Druig, Sam Wilson and Peter Parker being jealous of their girlfriends preference, please?” Anon
~~~
Druig
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Druig landed in front of her townhouse, knowing full well that she was at work and wouldn’t be home for hours. He knew where the spare key was, hidden in the flowerpot beside the porch swing.
He let himself in, taking a second to lean against the door and take in his surroundings. (Y/N) left the blinds open, warming the place with pretty sunlight. His eyes wandered from the cozy living room to the bookshelf of classics to the dining table bedecked with flowers to the kitchen that still smelled of coffee and buttered toast.
The tinkle of a bell preceded the soft steps of the housecat. Smoky gray and spying with bright blue eyes, the cat went right up to Druig and nudged his leg.
He finally smiled, complying to scratch him behind the ears, “Fancy a day together?”
And for hours Druig lived like those he spent millennia watching over. He feigned a human life.
He went to the bedroom to find the sweats and graphic t shirts that (Y/N) bought and kept for him. He went to the kitchen to make a sandwich, ensuring that the cat got a couple bites of turkey. He stood on the back porch, waving at the neighbors and deciding to water the plants with the hose.
He ended up snuggled on the couch with a thick blanket wrapped around him. The cat curled up in his lap and one of his favorite classics in hand.
He soaked up the feeling of being in a home and doing mundane human things. Because after so long he was ready to admit that he was jealous. He was jealous of his girlfriend and her simple life, void of powers and celestials and eternity.
Time seemed to go by quicker when he just lived the day. He was on the verge of a catnap when there was jangle of keys at the door and (Y/N) came walking in.
“Druig?” she called, “You left the door unlocked – scared me for a second.”
He waited for her to come into the living room as she kicked off her shoes and hung her coat. “I came to check the cat.”
She eyed the breadbasket and empty plate in the kitchen and the book resting on the ottoman – the bookmark was nearly halfway through the novel.
“Right,” she smirked, “Just popped in for a visit.”
He smiled, sweet and simple, “Come here, please.”
She obliged, crawling onto the couch and beneath the blanket he tucked around them. “You look sleepy.”
“I am,” he said gruffly, “It’s exhausting being human.”
“Is that what you’re doing here?” she asked curiously, snuggling into him.
He held her close, nudging her shoulder much like the cat that was trying to get comfortable between them.
“Shh…” he mumbled, nuzzling into her neck, “Just a couple more hours.”
Sam
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“What the hell is that?” Sam said to himself, “What in the hell is that?”
He was pressed against the wide glass windows of the Avengers compound, hands cupped above his eyes to keep the sun from blocking his view.
Someone was up in the sky, suited with what looked like his falcon wings. They were doing spectacular aerials, moving the metallic wings as if they’d practiced the flight pattern before.
Anger was bubbling inside him, starting in his core and flooding out to his limbs. They pushed him to move. He darted down the hallway, not bothering with the elevator as he barged into the stairwell.
Who had the balls to steal his flight suit and practice in the backyard?
It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he realized that the answer was his girlfriend.
His face was contorted with clear astonishment, watching (Y/N) pull risky moves in the air. She was maneuvering the suit so expertly that even Sam doubted he could match the skill.
He stood beneath her, hands on his hips and feeling that anger ebb away into something more subtle but all the more upsetting.
He was jealous of her skill. Embarrassed of the fact she probably kept it from him to spare his feelings.
It took a minute for her to notice him, but when she did, she cursed under her breath. She had been caught.
She humbly landed on the ground beside him.
Sam raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to get closer, “Damn, (Y/N).” He was trying to stifle the jealous pit in his stomach, “Why didn’t you tell me you were such a good flyer?”
“Well, I didn’t want to bug you with it,” She rested the red tinted glasses on her flyaway hair, “And knowing S.H.I.E.L.D. they would probably try to recruit me into some covert operation.”
“Or the Avengers,” Sam said, an edge to his voice.
She noticed, “Exactly. And you know I’m more of a homebase tech guy.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you couldn’t have told me.”
She shrugged, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s because you know you’re better than me, isn’t it.”
Her eyes flew wide, mouth floundering for a reply, “I… you… well…”
Sam gapped, “Oh my god, you really think you’re better with the suit!”
“I didn’t say that!” she finally gushed, “No, I don’t think that!” She was red-faced but realized what was fueling his outburst, “There’s no need to be jealous of how I fly.”
“I’m not,” Sam retorted, biting his tongue instead of being his usual chatty self.
She gave him a shy look, “There are plenty of things you can do in the suit that I can’t. I’ve been jealous of that before.”
He paused, extinguished by her words, “Really?”
“Maybe I’ve been practicing because I just want to be as good as you.”
He refrained from smiling, “I see what you’re doing.”
“Oh?”
“Thank you for trying to make me feel better.”
She sighed, relieved, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he went to kiss her, “My girlfriend is a badass.”
Peter
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Outside the bathroom door he could hear the party raging on. Not the sophisticated college affair he was expecting among biomechanical engineers, but a borderline rave.
He thought this was the opportunity for him to meet (Y/N)’s friends and classmates – wanting to impress them and show that he could be an accepted part of their group.
What he hadn’t expected when entering the apartment was bass music making the floor buzz, UV lights hanging precariously from the ceiling, vibrant glowing paints decorating every surface, and a countertop displaying various punch bowls themed a different alcoholic concoction.
(Y/N) immediately threw her hands in the air, declaring her entrance with a rave worthy shout. Her friends and colleagues welcomed her, grabbing at her with neon colored hands and loose, drunken arms.
Peter was left in the doorway, wide eyed and looking like a pair of headlights were barreling towards him. He knew his girlfriend was more carefree for majoring as a biomechanical engineer – it was one of the things he loved about her – but it would’ve been nice to know that when she said, ‘a college party with her classmates’ she meant ‘a college party where you’re meant to bust an eardrum and forget the whole night to intoxicated bliss.’
He was shuffling out of the bathroom now, dodging a pair of giggling girls. He searched for (Y/N) in the crowd, letting his mind sink further into how disappointed he was. He really wanted to impress her tonight.
And now she was throwing her head around, waving her arms, and letting her friends press against her on the dance floor.
Peter felt that flicker of love trail up his chest at seeing her, but there was something else brewing in his stomach. (Y/N) was dancing to the anthem of the room, not a care in the world and leaning on her friends like they’d done it a thousand times. It was a loyalty that only came from a group of students that shared the struggles of class and then supported one another in safely detoxing over the weekend.
Peter didn’t have that.
How could he be carefree when he’d seen true villainy. How could he be loyal to friends when they’d all forgotten who he was.
He was jealous.
“Peter?”
He looked up to see (Y/N), speckled with paint and holding two drinks. He gave a weak smile.
“Are you okay?”
He shrugged. “Your friends love you.”
Her face dipped, flushed and now ashamed of allowing her friends to drag her away from her boyfriend.
“I probably should’ve warned you,” she said loudly over the music.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not wanting to hurt her feelings, “This just isn’t my scene.”
She nodded, putting the cups on the nearest table, “Well, I’ve said hi to everyone, now we can get out of here.”
Peter immediately fumbled, “No, no – I didn’t mean we had to leave. You should keep…”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him flush to her chest, head pressed against his so she could mumble something quietly in his ear.
“I want to spend the night with you. Just me and you. Let’s get some takeout and take a shower at your apartment.”
Pajamas and snacks and movies and cuddles. It was making Peter smile again, made him feel not so alone anymore, “I love you.”
~~~
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silverlullabies · 2 years
Text
Touch Starved
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Summary: Having the ability to force someone to tell the truth with just a touch by inducing a state of euphoria within the victim person, didn’t seem like a powerful ability to have. The Avengers who have all been victimized put under this influence would beg to differ. Not that you would ever use your powers heedlessly for frivolous things, like winning a bet, of course. Except for the part where you very much have.
Pairings: Minor Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader, and Sam x Reader
Word Count: 1.3k+
Warnings: Dirty talk. Brief mentions of death and war. Minor gambling. Crack taken seriously. Terrorizing the Avengers with positive feelings.
A/N: Just a series of drabbles involving the Reader having the power to make people feel good with just one touch at the cost of that person not being able to lie. I already have a second Drabble started for this. This may turn into smut, but who knows.
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“So…” you begin, sliding up to Steve’s side and snaking a hand around his waist, inserting yourself suddenly into the circle of men at the edge of the bar in Tony’s penthouse. There’s a smirk on your face and a playful glint in your eye that has all of them stiffening immediately. Warning bells screech in their heads that there’s dangerdangerdanger when your tongue darts out to lick your lips.
“The ladies and I were talking…” you drawl, eyes flitting up as the eight heroes suddenly look incredibly wary at that statement. Bruce, upon hearing your words, carefully and slowly sets his drink on the bar, promptly turns on his heel, and power walks away without a word.
“And you know how we girls like our gossip…” you continue without care as your free hand comes up and tangles your fingers into Bucky’s hair. He whimpers, frozen, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
“Nope. Nopenopenope,” Tony throws up his hands in front of him like a shield. Tch, as if that’s going to be able to protect him. Who does he think you are? “Whatever machinations you’re planning, I want no part of your conniving wiles you tantalizing and devious vixen.”
You give him a hurt look that’s anything but genuine. “I’m wounded.”
“And this is me. Walking away. For plausible deniability purposes. Try not to break them in my penthouse, ok? Take it to the third floor if you have to.” And then he’s gone, dragging Rhodes with him.
You pout, fingers digging into Steve’s waist. “Y/N, please.” He begs, uselessly.
You grin and it has everyone who’s not Bucky and Steve trapped under your hands, taking a step back. They shoot the rest of the men betrayed looks.
“I am very afraid.” Clint whispers in his defense.
Your grin widens.
He yelps- honest to god yelps- and scrambles away.
“Coward,” Bucky shouts after him.
“It's a tactical retreat man. We’ve all been subjected to her ways so I’m preemptively preserving my dignity this time.” He shouts back and honestly? That’s fair. Any meddling you’ve done in the past has left them all traumatized, embarrassed, or both. You show no mercy to your victims.
“I… am also going to take my leave.” Thor backs away slowly. “I believe I hear my Father calling. Probably needs me for some princely activity. Wish I could stay, but duty calls, you know how it is.”
And then he’s gone too.
You giggle, turning to look at the three remaining men, eyes lighting up in glee as Bucky trembles beneath your fingers when you trace them down his throat, feather light against his skin. It’s mesmerizing watching the goosebumps spring on his flesh, watch as his eyes flutter shut, and his head tips back slightly over your touch giving you better access.
Steve attempts to shift away and then freezes when your hand slips up the edge of his shirt by the barest amount, thumb running across the skin above his waistband. You can feel his abdominal muscles tense beneath your touch as his lips part slightly and his eyes roll into his head.
“Y/N, please.” He begs, panting ever so softly, fingers flexing so hard his knuckles turn white.
“Awww,” you coo at him. “Aren’t you adorable? I just wanna ask a question for the girls. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Bullshit.” Sam says immediately and you smirk lazily at him.
“Why Sam, whatever do you mean? Are you accusing moi of nefarious plots?” You peek up at him with wide eyes, batting your eyelids in the picture perfect example of innocence.
“Yes. Absolutely.”
You laugh, delighted at his honesty. “Fair enough. Very well then, there’s a rumor on the internet that military boys are… wanton by default. The ladies and I were discussing that statistic and simply couldn't see it. After all, we know four decorated officers of the Armed Forces and none of you fit the image of someone who partakes in promiscuous debauchery on a whim.”
“I did.” Bucky answers immediately, moaning under your caress. “Before I was taken I entertained many dames in my bed. It was war and there was always the chance I would die the next day, so any chance there was to fuck someone, I took it, since there might not be a next time.”
“Oh my, Mr. Barnes, how lewd and completely pessimistic of you,” you gasp scandalously, before turning to Steve. “And did America’s golden boy have an amoral side because of the war?”
“Of course.” He murmurs, hips twitching under your touch. “I traveled with a group of actresses across America and even to other countries. What do you think happened? Everyone slept with everyone back then.”
Your lips quirk up like their answers have just given you a gift. “Who would have thought the pure chaste image your PR team pushed was all a lie.”
Both men hum, lost in the bliss. Their eyes roll back, faces flushed red, as their bodies tremble. Their breath comes out in heavy lascivious moans, relishing in the feeling of your gentle touches.
You pull your lips between your teeth as you turn to the final member of the group and purr. “Sammy.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “You don’t have to touch me to get me to tell the truth. I was a horndog when I was in, no doubt about it.”
Your laugh comes out like crystallized honey. “Fair enough. I bet that you would have been. Something about your swagger says that about you.” You say, raking your eyes up and down his body slowly and appreciatively. Somehow you make the simple movement look so sensual, that it has Sam turning hot under his clothes. “Bucky too. I owe Natasha for guessing correctly about Steve though. I really thought he was celibate. Guess his PR team needs a raise.”
Sam levels you with an unimpressed look. “You came over here and used your powers on these poor helpless morons for a bet?”
You nod, not even bothering to deny it. “Of course I did. I take money very seriously. And I didn’t expect these two to answer me honestly otherwise.”
“You are evil.”
Your eyes crinkle at that and he averts his gaze before he can take back that statement. After all, he’s been under the effect of your powers before and knows all too well what ecstasy Steve and Bucky are currently experiencing. Sure, you can force anyone to tell the truth by touching them, but the additional effect of causing undiluted euphoria for the victim could hardly be considered evil. (After all, people who felt good often found it difficult, if not impossible to lie.) And you made sure to take advantage of this power a lot. Not that any one on the team was complaining. (Except when they were all in public and openly admitting to some embarrassing secrets while getting visibly turned on, that is) (Not to mention “keeping the team humble and on their toes” as well as “making their stupid hotheaded asses calm down before they destroy the northern hemisphere” IS the reason Fury gave you when he told you why he was putting you on the team.)
You give a throaty laugh as your hands drop from the two super soldiers who suddenly gasp like they’ve been doused in ice cold water. Their body goes lax like they were puppets who’s strings had suddenly been cut.
“God damn it, Y/N.” Bucky scowls.
You give him a cheeky grin, reaching around Steve to grab Bruce’s discarded drink. “Until next time, gentlemen. It’s been a pleasure. Now where did that other delectable soldier run off to? Ah! There he is.”
The three men watch you walk away, hips swaying slightly, as you find your target across the room and call out to him. There’s no pity from the three as they observe Rhodes and Tony turn at the sound of your voice, only to pale, and immediately start to make a futile attempt at escape.
Steve whistles lowly at the scene. “God, What a woman.”
The other two nod their heads in agreement and then silently promise to never speak of this moment ever again.
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Day 30 - Stripping
Pairing: Sam Wilson x f!reader
Warnings: reader has to give a lap dance to a suspect but not for long/slight non consensual touching, if you’re under 18 and you’re here even after the 29 other days of me saying go away....go away!!!
Summary: A mission at a strip club goes a bit awry. Sam refuses to let you leave his sight. Things ensue.
Kinktober Masterlist 
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“I just don’t understand why, out of everyone, you had to be the one to come on this mission,” Sam seethed. You rolled your eyes and threw back the shot of vodka without preamble. Bucky was somewhere off near the stages, watching with careful eyes. Normally, you were just a remote analyst who watched over their missions from afar.
But this time, you were up close and personal.
They needed someone that matched your description to entice the likes of a certain arms dealer who was currently under investigation for trafficking mutants. He also favored high end strip clubs.
Hence, you in a full crystalline body suit and sky high platform heels.
You shot Sam an unimpressed look as you passed him. “I know I’m not your favorite person, Wilson, but I would appreciate it if you were less of a dick right now.”
Barnes chuckled over the comms line. “She’s right, Sam. You look good, by the way.”
“Thanks, frosty.” You worried at your bottom lip, your teeth digging into the lipstick that painted your lips. Before you could express your nerves, a hand landed on your bicep.
“New girl, right? You’ve been requested in a VIP room.” The club promoter tugged you behind him and to a door on the far wall. You glanced back at Sam, seeing him follow you closely. You weren’t field trained. Hell, you weren’t trained in anything but computers. If this guy found that you were wearing a wire, you would be as good as dead.
The promoter pushed you into a small room. There was a platform in the middle of the room with two couches facing it. You gulped and tried to not let your nervousness show as you stepped onto the dais. You weren’t supposed to perform! You were just supposed to lead the guy away from the crowd so Sam and Bucky could grab him.
The door opened again and Sam slipped in the back. He wore a badge he must have snatched from one of the club bouncers indicating that he was security. No one paid him any mind, but you glanced back at him. He dipped his chin in acknowledgment and your shoulders relaxed.
As much as the two of you butted heads, you knew Sam would never let anything happen to you.
Some song started playing that you vaguely recognized, but you took it all in stride. You spun slowly on the dais and shook your ass to the beat. This guy would want a lap dance, right? Fuck, well, here goes nothing.
“I’m dismantling the cameras, taking out the guards, and then I’ll meet you both in the room. That work?” Bucky asked over the comms.
“Hurry,” Sam replied. His voice was strangled in your ear and you surreptitiously looked over your shoulder in his direction to find his gaze locked firmly on you.
Slipping one sleeve down, you shimmied out of the top of your bodysuit to reveal the lace bra and panties underneath. You tugged at the sheer fabric of the bodysuit and felt it tear away from your skin as you slowly approached the arms dealer who was spread out on the couch. You sank into a crouch in between his legs and gazed up at him from under your lashes. He grinned, his hand coming up to touch your cheek.
“How much longer?” Sam snarled.
“Just a second,” Bucky grunted.
You pulled away, your hands going to your back to the clasps that held your lacy bra. You released the clasps to the constant mantra of “it’s for the job” playing in your head. Just as the bra fell to your feet, the door burst open and the Winter Soldier marched towards the leering man on the couch. Bucky knocked the guy out with a clean punch as you scrambled to grab your bra from where it puddled on the ground.
“Get him out of here,” Sam snapped. He had moved from where he had been leaning against the wall and now stood in front of you, holding out the leather jacket he was wearing. You accepted it gratefully and pulled it on so it covered most of your torso.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want you on this mission,” he grunted.
You pulled the lapels of the jacket close to hide your body from view. “Was I really that bad?”
Sam turned his sharp gaze on you and the molten burning in his eyes sucked the air out of the room. “No, you were perfect. That’s the problem.”
He started after Bucky and then paused, glancing over his shoulder. Sam raised his hand, extending a metaphorical olive branch and a physical offer of safety when you two walked through the club. You tentatively grasped his hand and he tugged you closer, his warm and steady form pressing against yours.
“The next time I see you like that, baby girl, it’s because you want to.”
“That a promise, Wilson?”
His hand drifted down to the curve of your waist and he pulled you closer, leaving a burning wake along your skin where he touched. “One I intend to keep.”
“Hi, yeah, less flirting, more extracting,” Bucky interrupted over the comms. You snickered and followed Sam out of the club, eager to get back home.
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super-marvel-dc · 1 year
Text
Sam: So what's the plan?
Y/N: Uh...
Sam: YOU DON'T HAVE A PLAN?!
Y/N: Hey, I'm making this up as I go!
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igotanidea · 1 year
Text
Marvel incorrect quotes
Bucky : I read Hobbit in ....
Sam: Yeah, yeah, we've heard about that but did you see Hobbit?
Bucky : What?
y/n: I think he means the movie....
Sam & y/n took him to a 3D hobbit movie.
y/n: Did you like it?
Bucky (falling apart): It was like Hydra in my head all over again....
Sam : How ......?
y/n: Sam, he literally get off his seat and wanted to join the fight....
Bucky : it just fell so real!
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Kinktober Day 22- Phone Sex
Sam Wilson x fem!reader (no use of y/n)
Word Count- 929
Warnings- smut (18+ only), masturbation, feelings, established relationship
Notes- I always tend to lean towards soft sex with Sam, but he deserves all the love!! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen​!
To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​​. Reblogs highly appreciated!
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~
“Hello?” you answered your phone the moment it rang. Even in the middle of getting ready for bed, you were always quick to your phone whenever Sam was away. You were so worried about missing his call that you kept it glued to your side, “Sam?”
“Hey baby,” Sam’s soothing voice on the other end of the line made you drop your shoulders in relief.
You glanced over at the clock, “Isn’t it the middle of the night for you?”
Sam sighed as he ran his hand across his face, “Yeah,” his voice dropped, “But I missed you baby… I just had to hear your voice.”
“I miss you too, Sam,” you breathed into the phone as you sat down on your bed, “It’s lonely here without you,” you grabbed your pillow, “The bed feels cold when I’m by myself.”
“So I’m just a bed warmer for you?” he laughed as he joked with you.
All you could do was moan softly at the sound of his laugh, “Why else would you call me in the middle of the night, Sam?” your tone dropped.
“You got me there, baby,” Sam’s tone matched yours as he made himself comfortable on his bed, “Maybe I missed more than just your speaking voice.”
You bit your lip to stifle another moan, “So it’s that kind of call then?” you positioned your pillow between your legs as you settled onto your knees on the mattress, “So I can pretend this pillow I have here is you…”
“Fuck baby,” Sam groaned as he wrapped his hands around his cock and stroked it lazily, “In that case I can imagine it’s your hand on my cock instead of mine.”
“Oh fuck,” you moaned as you slowly rocked your hips across the pillow, “I wish I had you here with me right now, Sam,” you breathed heavily, “Wish I could make you feel good, baby.”
Sam pumped his cock faster at your words, “You already are making me feel good baby,” he groaned, “Just hearing you right now is everything I need.”
“Sam…” you breathed as you rolled your head back and rocked yourself against the pillow, desperate for more friction. 
“That’s it, baby,” he purred as he worked himself more, “Let me hear how pretty you sound for me.”
Through yours and Sam’s moans, you heard the slick sound of his cock in his hand, and it made a rush of arousal jolt through you. It drove you wild to imagine what he looked like in that moment, laid out on whatever bed he was on with his cock in his hand. Was he alone in the room, or did he risk getting caught while on his heated phone call with you? Truthfully, you weren’t sure which turned you on more.
“Sam…” you moaned his name as you rubbed yourself against the pillow harder, “Want this to be you I’m riding, not a pillow.”
“Cause I’m harder than a pillow?” he chuckled lowly into the phone. But the thought of you riding your pillow and pretending it was him drove Sam wild, and it made his cock leak with precum.
“Yes,” you let out a soft laugh.
“Let me hear you cum, baby,” Sam groaned your name, “I need to hear you cum,” he pumped himself harder and faster to the sounds of your moans.
“Oh fuck… Sam…” the sounds of the fabric rustling harmonized with your moans as you rocked against the pillow faster. You bunched up the fabric to create extra friction with the folds of the pillowcase. 
The extra bumps in the fabric along with Sam’s encouraging words was just enough to send you over the edge and with his name on your lips you fell apart. Your body trembled as waves of heat crashed through you as you imagined it was Sam below you.
“That’s it, baby,” Sam purred as his own climax quickly built as he stroked himself, “That’s my girl. You sound so beautiful, baby.”
“Sam…”
With the sound of his name in your blissed out voice, Same came hard. He groaned your name as his release splashed into his hand. His mind swam as he listened to the sound of your heavy breaths on the other end of the line as he rode out his climax on his hand and imagined it was yours instead.
“Fuck, baby,” Sam exhaled deeply once he rode out his climax.
“Sam…” you pleaded his name as you laid down onto the bed and held the pillow close, pretending it was him you held.
“I know, baby,” Sam blinked his eyes open and almost forgot that he was actually alone, “I shouldn’t be gone too much longer… Then I can make it up to you. We won’t leave our bed for days.”
You smiled brightly, “I’d like that,” you sighed dreamily, “You just make it back home to me, alright?”
“You know I always do, baby,” Sam grinned, “Promise.”
“I love you, Sam Wilson,” you almost sounded sad, but it was just because you missed him so much. You had to admit though, when the two of you started your late night dirty phone calls, it did help. But the pang of being alone after it was finished still stung. You just had to hold onto the promise that he’d be back soon.
“I love you too baby,” Sam’s feelings reflected your own, “I’ll see you soon, I promise.” Nothing would keep him from you, especially when he knew what you had in store for him when he made it back to you.
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angelltheninth · 1 year
Note
Hiii! This is for MCU what about reader that has the wings like sam does? Pick any characters you like :)
I feel like this has to be Sam himself because the moment I saw this I thought of scenarios.
Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader
Tags: fluff, developing relationship, flying, dating, kisses in the sky, flirting
A/N: I would never be able to do this sadly because I'm scared of heights.
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He was the first one to see the design of your wings
All but spun you around when you revealed that they were similar to his in a small way
Was very eager to take flight with you but first he felt like he should warn you about some of the safety risks
Should anything go wrong he'll be right there to catch you
He likes flying early in the morning as a way to wake up
Also treats those as your little dates before patrol
Very flirty when you're flying together, he likes to free fall and then circle around each other, before you both deploy your wings
Sometimes flies under you so and puts his hands behind his head, a charming smile spreading across his face
You can't see him wink but you practically sense it happening
Has a very silly side to where he will let his wings spread behind him when the two of you kiss
You do maintenance on your wings together
And yes he does do the thing where pose where the two of you form a big heart with your hands and wings combined, he has that photo framed
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dira333 · 7 months
Text
5 Times You Need Sam Wilson
1.
You sneak around a pillar, gun ready, ears strained to hear even the faintest sound. This level of the high-rise building you’re in is still under construction, there’s plastic tarp everywhere and from one of the rooms to your far left you can hear the frequent dripping of a leaky faucet.
You’re on your own.
Every breath you take is slow and calculated. You can’t risk any unnecessary noise as you jump out of one pillar, secure the area before you and slip behind the next pillar to shield your back.
You take one hand from the gun and press the watch against your mouth to whisper into the tiny mic.
“Sam! Where are you? What’s the situation?”
There’s only a low crackle in your ear instead of the answer you desire.
You count to five and try it again.
Okay, you tell yourself, Sam needs you. You bite your lip as you come up with a plan.
Three steps.
You will move to the staircase, check if someone’s upstairs and go down to help him.
Just as you move to jump out of your hiding place, heavy footsteps enter the level you’re in. A voice, loud and familiar, calls out to you.
“No use in hiding, Y/N.” They say it lightly, with just a hint of a tease, and it lets a chill run down your spine as you slowly move around the pillar, looking for a chance to fire.
You take a deep breath and whisper into your mic again.
“Sam! The monkey is on my level. I repeat the monkey is on my level. I can’t take him down, I’m out of ammo! I need you up here!”
You don’t wait for an answer as you move forward, looking into an empty room.
Laughter rings through the room.
“You’re getting sloppy, Y/N. I could hear you. You’ve got no ammo! What are you gonna do? Throw your gun at me in the hopes to knock me out?”
You heave a sigh.
“Fine, Stark! Fine! Do you want me to give up? Or do you want to shoot me down like an animal?”
There’s silence, two steps in your direction and then he speaks again.
“Come out of your hiding place, hands in the air, and I will think about it.”
“I won’t come out until you promise, on all of your suits, that you won’t shoot me if I come out. Those bullets hurt like hell!”
“You should know, you took down half of the teams downstairs in the first five minutes.”
You snort. And try to locate him as he speaks.
Finally, you see his left shoe peeking out from behind one of the pillars and another set of shoes right at the door.
“Promise me, Stark, or I won’t come out. You were the one bitching about how you’ve got better things to do than playing paintball with us.”
“Fine. I promise. Are you coming out now?”
“I am.” You tell him and step out from behind the pillar.
Tony shoots out of his hiding place, paintball gun drawn, ready to make a rainbow out of you, but he’s too slow.
Sam’s shot hits him right in the arm and explodes into a fountain of green, staining his training jacket.
“Where did you come from?!” Stark hollers in annoyance and Sam salutes him with a cheeky grin.
“Always one step ahead of you, monkey. My best girl told me she needs me, you think I’m far away?”
Tony grunts. Sam walks over, gun lowered, hand raised, asking for a high five. He thinks the fight is over, but you see just a flicker of silver from behind one of the unfinished walls. You shoot before you realize you’re doing so and are rewarded with Clint’s voice cursing like a sailor.
“You said you were out of Ammo!” Tony claims while Sam high fives you.
“Fifth win in a row, we’re on fire!”
“You’re not allowed to be a team anymore,” Tony claims and helps Clint out from his hiding place, “How did you even see him?”
2.
Gunshots are ringing through the narrow street as you run, jumping behind everything solid enough to protect you whenever you hear another armed drone coming your way.
You’re on your own, but this time, it’s not just fun and paint.
There’s a low crackle in your earpiece and you press a finger against it as you throw yourself behind a pile of wooden boxes. The one on top burst into millions of wooden splinters as a drone empties its ammo inside it. You’re glad it was just the box and not your body.
“I’m on my way to the target, ten minutes top, faster if you guys could do something about the drones coming my way. How’s the situation over there?”
“Tight,” Sam’s voice is strained. As one of the few Avengers that can fly, he’s incredibly useful against this shitload of drones, but he’s got also most of the work to do.
“Did you guys come up with any idea of how I’m going to make it out of the target after I placed the bomb?” You ask, fighting to keep your voice professional. You have your orders, you’re going to follow them, no matter the cost.
“I’m going to pick you up,” Sam says, matter-of-factly and you don’t dare to argue with him. You just hope he will make it there in time.
You pick up speed again, running as fast as you can from one possible hiding spot to the next.
You crash into a stone wall hard enough to let a sharp pain shoot through your shoulder. You keep running.
You slip on a small patch of ice, your knees colliding with the floor with enough force to knock the breath out of you for a moment. You get up and keep running.
.
“I’m at the target,” you pant into the mic, “Sam, tell me you’re close.”
“I’m close!” He yells back and you can literally feel the lie in his words.
“Doesn’t matter,” you tell him, “Time’s up, I have to activate the bomb.”
You look at the factory around you, drones swarming out of boxes, walls, crates as if they’re giant bees and you’re in the middle of the swarm.
You press the button without hesitation, activating the only thing that can possibly take out all of them at once.
And then you turn and run like you never have before.
If you can make it to the front door in time, you might have a chance.
“Sam!” You yell into your mic, “I’m running to the entrance, but I need you to pick me up! I’m dead serious here! I need you!”
There’s no answer in your earpiece. You keep running anyway.
You strain your ears, hoping to hear the sound of his wings or even his voice, but instead, you hear the countdown running out and the almost inaudible click as the timer goes from 1 to 0.
The door is right in front of you. You jump through and keep on running, eyes on the road.
You don’t see Sam shooting out of the sky, you don’t see his arms stretch out as he grabs you and turns with a flick of his wings, just in time.
“Did you think I wouldn’t make it?” He asks and has the audacity to grin as he moves the two of you out of the way as a burning drone flies past you.
You just laugh, unable to speak.
3.
It’s past midnight and you lie in your bed, counting the ways in which you’ve almost died, hoping to fall asleep, but it’s to no avail. The sounds coming from next door are just too disturbing to fall asleep too and you find yourself pulling your phone from your nightstand before you can stop yourself.
Y/N: Are you awake?
Sam: Unfortunately I am, why?
Y/N: Unfortunately? What did you do? You were fine yesterday… I mean the day before yesterday.
Sam: Why do you always assume it’s my fault?
Y/N: Well, is it?
Instead of writing back, he calls you and you pick up, feeling way happier than you should.
“It’s not the point,” he greets you with a husky voice and you laugh.
“That means it is your fault. What did you do?”
“Some stupid dare. I got a cold.”
“Ooooh, did poor Sam get the sniffles?” You laugh softly, “Do you want me to bring you soup?”
“I’m already sick, why would I want your soup?” He asks back and you laugh again, stopping short when he asks you why you’re still awake.
“My neighbors are up,” you tell him, trying to ignore the explicit noise coming from beneath the thin walls.
“So?”
“Well, they are a young, married couple and my walls are very thin.”
Sam laughs. “There’s a seven eleven on your way. I’ll tell you what to bring.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you need to hear my voice to fall asleep?”
“I do not.”
“You do. Now play nice and tell me what I want to hear.”
“I need to get out of this apartment before I lose my mind?”
“Fair enough. Now, get something to write. I want Oreos. And not the cheap ones.”
4.
Fighting in the rain is terrible.
Fighting in a rainstorm is downright crazy.
Fighting on a freaking ship in a rainstorm is downright insane.
“I want to die,” you tell no one in particular as Clint brings the Quinjet to a height where you can jump out and onto the ship below.
“Cheer up, rockstar,” Sam claps his hand on your shoulders and for a brief moment you think of that hand and that arm slung around your shoulder as you lounge on his couch and dip Oreos into cups of milk when you should be sleeping. You blink and the memory is gone.
You frown instead.
“I’m going to die,” you tell him, matter-of-factly, “Someone’s going to kick me off that freaking nutshell and the stealth suit I’m wearing to protect me will pull me down and I die.”
A few of the other’s turn around to send you concerned looks.
“I’m afraid of ships, okay?” You complain but grab your parachute anyway.
“You can deal with being almost killed by explosions but you’re afraid of fighting on a ship?” Sam asks and ushers you forward in line. Steve jumps out first.
“An explosion doesn’t think,” you explain, “If you’re lucky and know what to do, you can survive easily. A ship filled with enemies is different. Every one of them can think and they want to shoot me or push me into the freaking sea.”
“I’ll buy you oreo’s when this is over,” Sam offers and pushes you out of the Quinjet when you open your mouth to answer.
.
You should have stayed inside. You’re soaking wet when you finally make it onto the ship. If you survive this, you will get rewarded with the worst cold in history.
You focus on fighting instead, on making your way from one point to the other on the slippery wet floor, on balancing yourself on a ship that moves beneath your body.
“See,” Sam shouts from above, his voice barely audible even through the earpiece, “This isn’t so bad, is it?”
“How are you even able to fly?” You ask back, eyes on him. What a stupid, stupid mistake.
Something hits you out of nowhere, with enough force to knock the breath out of you.
You stagger, one, two steps backward, there’s something hard pressing into your back. You pull your fists up, trying to see who’s attacked you. Something moves right between your feet. You try to jump away, slip on the marine roop and fall backward. And this time, there’s no railing holding you back.
The sea is cold, colder than you’d thought it could be, but you were right about your stealth suit pulling you down. You try to swim up, but the water is black and the sky is black and you can’t tell where’s up and down in this darkness surrounding you.
.
When you come back to your senses, you’re lying on your back, someone’s hands on your chest, someone’s lips on your own. You feel a cough wracking your body and that someone moves away, helps you up as you cough and spit disgustingly salty sea water onto your wet legs.
You take a breath, and then another one. Your throat burns, your eyes prick, and one of your ribs feels like it might be broken, but your lips burn as well and you turn around.
“Easy there, Rockstar,” Sam mumbles softly, pushing you back down onto the ground, “Steve’s cleaning up, Nat’s somewhere questioning the bad guys and Clint is trying to get closer so we can get you out of the rain.”
“Sam!” You croak, “I need you to-” Your voice breaks and you swallow dryly, suddenly anxious about what you wanted to say.
“You need me to what?” He asks, “Are you in pain? Do you need me to get you something?”
“I need you to do that again,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, “That thing with your lips.”
He stares at you in silence for a second that feels like a lifetime, before his mouth pulls into a lazy grin.
“You’re right,” he mumbles slowly, “You do seem awfully out of breath.”
The two of you lean forward at exactly the same time, your lips meeting right in the middle.
The kiss is soft, almost hesitant, tasting and testing the waters.
Sam pulls back first but grabs your hands while he does so and presses his forehead against yours.
“Not to ruin the mood,” he whispers, “But we’re still on a mission. And you taste like you’ve tried to french kiss the sea.”
“We could pick up where we left when we get back?” You offer.
“Oreos on my couch?”
Now it’s your turn to pull your lips into a lazy smile.
“Deal.”
5.
“I hate this color,” you tell Sam as you carefully place the dress in the back of the car.
“I know,” he says, “But you look good in it.”
“No, I don’t,” you disagree, “That’s why my cousin picked it. She’s the bride. She can’t have the bridesmaids looking better than her.”
Sam laughs and pulls the passenger door open for you.
“I don’t know if I should be proud of you for acknowledging your own beauty or worried because of your ego.”
“Both,” you tell him and kiss his cheek before you get in the car, “And because I have such a big ego, I’m going to choose the music on this car ride.”
“Only if I can choose on which side of the bed I’m going to sleep in the hotel.”
“Only if I can choose what time we’re leaving the party tonight.”
.
A day later you stand in front of the mirror in your hotel room, looking at the chartreuse color of your bridesmaid dress as Sam steps out of the bathroom.
“Can you do my tie?” He asks, holding up a tie in the exact same color of your dress.
“I know that you’re very much capable of doing it yourself,” you tell Sam as you tie it for him. He smiles down at you. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And I know you love when I tie it for you and I think that is cute, but it can only cheer me up so much when I have to realize that chartreuse freaking suits you.”
Sam grins cheekily. “Everything suits me.”
“You’re damn right,” You sigh, “And I’ll have to take a drink to get through with this.”
“Don’t drink too much,” Sam warns you as you pour yourself a glass, “You’re a lightweight.”
“Am not.”
“Are too. And you snore when you drink. I don’t want to spend my time in this amazing Hotel with you snoring into my ear.”
“You snore all the time,” you swat at him as you take the first sip, “And I never complain.”
Sam smirks. “You’ve already told me three times that I have a very cute snore, thank you very much.”
You pout. “It’s unfair. You sound just like a cat.”
.
Three hours later you’re pulling a guy walking your way to the side.
“You. I have no clue who you are, the bride’s freaking out. I need you to get her father, big guy, sweats a lot, has a stomach for three? Not the mother, just the father. He’s the calmer one. The other guy looks like this.” You show him a picture of Sam on your phone, “Black suit, chartreuse tie, the most attractive guy in the room, you can’t miss him. Tell him I need him here, it’s an emergency… Now go.”
Two minutes later Sam barges into the hallway, a look of panic on his face that calms down when he sees you.
“Are you okay? That guy was talking about an emergency.”
“Bride’s freaking out,” you tell him, “Her father should be on the way.”
“You’re not trying to calm her down?” He asks surprised.
“I tried to. She screamed at me. Apparently, I will never get married with an attitude like mine. I do not understand that chartreuse is a hip color that channels the power of nature, my job is not child safe and sarcasm kills relationships. Oh and apparently I’m not allowed to stand with the others when she throws the flowers because I’m too good at catching stuff and it would be unfair.”
“That’s harsh.”
“Just a bit,” you answer and bite your lip before you can say something you might regret later. Right then your uncle walks down the hallway and sends you a smile.
“Go on, kids,” he says, “We will be down in a second. That’s just the nerves. That happens to every bride.”
“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t act that way,” you tell Sam before you can stop yourself as you walk down towards the main event. You freeze, but he just takes your hand and squeezes it.
.
You manage to keep the smile on your lips during the rest of the wedding, but as everyone lines up for the flower toss, Sam grabs your hand and pulls you up.
“Come on, it’s time to go to bed.”
“What?” You look at him in surprise, “It’s not even that late.”
He sends you a look that makes you shut up and follow him.
When the door of your hotel room closes behind you, he turns around, pinning you against the door.
“You always finish my Oreos before I get the chance,” he starts, “You snore when you drink and you wake me up when you can’t sleep. You can’t stop complaining when you hate something, like the color chartreuse-”
“It’s the worst color,” you defend yourself and he shushes you with a quick, heated kiss.
“You take your job seriously and that scares me sometimes and your sarcasm is on a whole other level, but I love you and I need you by my side. I want to marry you. Someday. Not today, preferably.”
“Are you asking me to-”
“No,” Sam interrupts you, “I’m not a dick. I don’t ask you to be my wife on the wedding of someone else. But it will happen and you won’t see it coming.”
“I would argue about that surprise thing with you, but I won’t,” you tell him, “I’ll just tell you that when you’ll ask, I’ll say yes.”
“Good,” Sam grins, “Now, can I help you out of that awful dress?”
“Only if you rip it, please.”
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