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Sam (Warfare) M.L.
All of my "x reader" and Sam-Centric works! All other works can be found - here!
Last updated on: May 10th. There maybe some new stuff lurking in my tags, so if you think I’m missing something- feel free to berate me in my inbox!
Sam X Reader: (oneshots, blurbs, headcanons, ect.)
I Don't Care If Monday's Blue- You work as a nurse at a small clinic in partnership with a physical therapy office, Sam is your favorite patient even if he's not really yours. At his last appointment, he takes a leap.
Tryna Put The Pieces All Together - Sam X Erik's Sister! Reader- Moments through your life that led you to realizing it's always been Sam and some moments that make you sure it will always be him.
Sam X Reader Series:
None Yet!
Sam-Centric: (just about him. can be applied to "x reader" if you choose!)
None Yet!
Coming Soon!
Sam (Warfare) X Erik's Sister! Reader - Your heart is pounding out of your chest, because you're realizing right now that you're in love with your brothers best friend. Shit... wait, have you always been in love with Sam?
Want to see a snippet from one of these? You can check out my Make Me Write list!
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Im so obsessed with Sam from Warfare rn i cant stop shaking
Sam (Warfare)
Este post é uma lista de todos os one shots do personagem Sam (Warfare) que gostei e que acho que vocês também iriam gostar.
Os one shots com o asterisco (*) ao lado contêm conteúdo +18, ou seja, se você tiver menos de 18 anos, não interaja comigo e nem com este conteúdo.
Créditos das imagens: Pinterest e Tumblr
♡ Guardian Angel - Parte 1 de @agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (série)
♥︎ Guardian Angel - Parte 2 de @/agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora) (série)
♥︎ Guardian Angel - Parte 3 de @/agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (série)*
♥︎ Guardian Angel - Parte 4 de @/agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (série)
♥︎ Pumpkin Bars de @/agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (série)
♥︎ Favorite Things de @/agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (série)
♥︎ Mouse in the House de @/agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (série)
♥︎ Achy Legs and Rainy Day de @/agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (série)*
♥︎ Period Pains de @/agentorange9595 [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (série)
♡ The Matching Candy Corn de @glassbxttless [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (one shot)
♡ Code Red de @/glassbxttless [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (one shot)
♡ The Bonfire de @/glassbxttless [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (one shot)
♡ Roses and Daisies de @/glassbxttless [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (one shot)
♡ Big Blonde Idiot de @/glassbxttless [Sam (Warfare) x Leitora] (one shot)
♡ Everything’s Ginger de @/glassbxttless [Sam Warfare x Leitora] (one shot)
Post inspirado em: @quantumbarnes
Divisórias por: @firefly-graphics
Nurse reader x Sam 😼
I Don't Care If Monday's Blue- Sam (Warfare) X Reader
Thank you for requesting! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated, I love hearing from you guys!
Title from Friday I'm In Love by The Cure
Summary: You work as a nurse at a small clinic in partnership with a physical therapy office, Sam is your favorite patient- even if he's not really yours. At his last appointment, he takes a leap.
Warnings: lots of focus on Sam's injuries and PTSD, mentions of reader being sick, violence against reader, Sam protecting reader, slow-burn speed run, pretty angsty? They're both shy yearners. Buckle up because I got carried away and it's long.
Notes about the fic: All of the events are chronological, but not back-to-back. Takes place over the course of about a year and a half. I also apologize for any medical and military inaccuracies, I'm not claiming to be an expert but I tried my best!
You hadn't liked him at first. You'd seen enough of them to know his type- angry at the world for the state he was in. It wasn't that you blamed him, you'd probably be angry too if it were you; but his appointments seemed to always land on the days you were already irritated. The days where people call in and leave the already understaffed clinic with the nurses running around checking every box.
That first day, his big eyes had been angry and it'd set something on fire in your chest. If it weren't for the sweetheart rolling his wheelchair- Tommy- you might have just lost your composure. He'd been rolling his eyes, scoffing, barely saying a word as you'd helped Tommy check him in for his first appointment. It had your blood boiling.
It kept up like that for a while.
Eventually though, the crutches came and Tommy disappeared with the wheelchair. Your annoyance faded away into a distant, hazy memory. He was different after that. Softer, kinder- shy. He greeted you with a tight lipped and awkward smile; like he knew he'd been a jackass before. Like being kind felt as if he was showing an open wound and asking for help after wrongly telling you that you'd inflicted it on him. It was almost endearing. He hadn't said he was sorry for his rude behavior, but you could tell he meant it.
Your moments with him between check-ups melted into something easy, a mutual understanding of sorts. He was still reserved; but now, he watched you intently when you typed or when he passed you in the hall. He waved, all small and shy when you walked past Tiffany's door. He told light jokes when the lobby was empty and you were dying of boredom at the front desk. Slowly but surely, he was opening up little by little.
"Hey, Tiff!" You yell down the hall before he can even walk in the door, already pulling up his check-in sheet on the computer. "Sam's here!" You hear him laugh softly, teeth barely peeking out of his smile like he's trying to hide it. He limps up to the desk, crutches dragging a little more than usual. You can see it on his face; the ache, the exhaustion.
A loud bang and the clatter of a metal tray has both of your gazes snapping down the hall. From your peripherals, you can see him tense. Something in his eyes shifts, dark and on edge. Alert. A string of muttered curses follows the sounds.
"Can you start him off?" Tiffany calls out. "Cave lady left a mess in here!" She's straining, trying to hold it together. You know if you caught a look at her, the veins in her neck would be popping out and her face would be bright red. It makes you laugh, and the sound seems to make Sam relax a little.
"On it!" You call back to her, less sharp than before as Sam's eyes start to fade back. His gaze flicks all around, giving tiny nods and little taps of his fingers on the handle of one of his crutches.
He's forcing himself to come back down, counting off the reasons that he's safe. You've noticed his little ticks like that over the past months and honestly, it's impressive. You’ve heard Tiffany talk with him about the notes his physical therapist writes, about how he should be proud of how far he's come in terms of keeping his head level.
"Whenever you're ready." You say softly, lifting the divider and coming around the desk. He gives a small shake of his head and a deep sigh before nodding.
"So are you allowed to tell me about cave lady or..." He's forcing the humor into his voice. It's obvious that he still gets a little embarrassed when an episode comes on, even though he knows that it's something you see almost every day.
You laugh, opening the door of your exam room and motioning for him to enter.
"There's this lady that comes in. She's like convinced that the protector of her soul lives in a cave." You start to explain as he sits and you pull up his file. "Fell asleep in there last winter, got some nasty frostbite. It messed with the nerves in her spine. She's all touchy and rowdy during her visits."
You know how ridiculous it sounds, but you're hoping he finds it funny enough to relax again. He's laughing, head ducked again to hide it but the pink apples of his cheeks gives him away. It makes you smile; chest warming, tingling in a way it shouldn't while you're working.
"Alright-" You spin to face him, all business now. "First things first- is there anything bothering you this week that we should get out of the way before you forget?" His smile drops, face guarded again.
"I'm still having trouble sleeping." He mumbles, fingers curling against his pant leg. You glance back at the screen and scan over his prescriptions.
"Aren't you on medication for that?" Your brows raise. He folds in on himself a bit, like a kid getting caught.
"Flushed 'em" He shrugs. Your head tilts; not accusingly, just asking for an explanation. "They were making the nightmares worse." His voice turns distant. You fight the urge to comfort him.
"I'll leave a note, have Tiff cross reference them with some other side effects and find you something new." You tell him as you begin to scribble on your notepad.
You stand then, grabbing the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff off the counter. He doesn't take his eyes off you as you strap it around his arm and set it properly. Then, you place the chest piece against his shirt. You're almost not sure you're hearing properly.
"Sam, you need to relax." You state, hand planting firm in the center of his chest. You're thinking of all the wrong reasons why his heart rate is skyrocketing. "You're safe. It was just a tray knocked over because Tiffany is clumsy. You're okay." He blinks like he's coming back to himself suddenly, head shaking to clear his thoughts.
"Yeah, sure. I know." He mumbles out in embarrassment, free arm moving to scratch the back of his neck.
His heart still doesn't slow.
"Let's move on." You smile softly. "I'll make a note to try again before you leave." You turn away from him then and finally take a moment to let your face fall.
For some reason, it's different with Sam. You see tons of people every week, all recovering from extreme ranges of injuries and all with traumatizing stories of how they got them. Sam is different. With him, it hurts when you think about it.
You start to read over his notes from his latest physical therapy session, using the facts of his progress to push away the ache.
"Mark said you're having some issues with your scars during your sessions?" You ask, turning back to him. He bites the inside of cheek and his fingers curl tighter again. You give him a minute to breathe.
"They uh-" He pauses, trying to find the proper way to describe it. "It's like the skin is really tight. It makes them pull when I move my legs." The look on his face makes you upset again. He looks like it hurts him to say it, like it hurts him to let you know that they exist.
"Can I take a look?" You try to keep your voice level, clinical.
He doesn't move, eyes falling shut in what you can only imagine is shame. It's normal. You're a new person and you're asking to see the part of him that he hates most. The reaction isn't uncommon to you, but it stings all the same.
"Sam-" You say his name softly, pulling his attention back to you. "It's okay. It's my job, I can handle it. You don't have to be nervous in here." He nods faintly, beginning to undo the sting of his sweatpants.
You turn around to give him space and begin reading his chart again. You knew he was a Navy Seal before all this and that an accident on the job was the cause. But now, something grips your chest as you read the words.
IED explosion during evacuation. Nerve endings damaged. Temporary paralysis to left leg. Possibly permanent muscle dysfunction.
You blink back tears.
"Ready." His shaky voice calls out behind you. He's sitting on the end of the cot again, fingers curled over the ends as he fights to look anywhere but down at his thighs.
You see them then. Big, ragged, pink scars cover his left thigh, some even running down past his knee. You can clearly map every line, every previously torn spot that fades into softer and paler lines on his right leg.
"They do look a little irritated." You hum, rolling your stool closer. "Is it okay if I touch?" You ask, looking up at him with a small smile you're hoping doesn't look like pity.
He sighs shakily and begins to pull up the leg of his basketball shorts. The lines just keep going up and up, hiding behind the fabric of his boxers. Your chest aches again.
You sit, waiting for his approval. Finally, he nods.
Tiffany knocks on the door.
"I can take over now." She smiles as steps through. "Thanks, hun. I'll prep for your next appointment." She hums as she squeezes your shoulder.
You tap your notepad, letting her know that you've taken notes and quietly tell Sam goodbye.
When he leaves that day, he doesn't stick around to say his usual Bye! See you in two weeks! You know it shouldn't sting, but it does.
You lean back in the desk chair, looking at Tiffany as she joins you in the small reception area.
"Did you finally get him to come down? His pulse was crazy." You force your tone to be casual. She turns to you, brows furrowed.
"It was fine when I checked it." She shrugs. Then, a knowing smirk takes over her lips. "Maybe it was just because of you." She laughs lightly, bumping your shoulder with her hip. Against your will, heat fills your cheeks. Your own heart rate picks up.
"Yeah, right." You roll your eyes, turning back to the computer.
The next time you see him, he manages to surprise you. You're spaced out, body still feeling heavy with the weight that lingers after running a fever for days. Your stomach turns, nose burns- the whole nine yards.
"You weren't here last time." His voice makes you jump, eyes pulling away from the glare of the computer you weren't really looking at.
You can't help but relax at the sight of him. He looks sturdier this week. The bags under his eyes don't seem as defined, his crutches don't tremble from the force of fighting to keep upright. But his eyes are wide, rounded with concern. You glance down at the time.
"You're early." You hum, smiling softly at him. For just a second, he looks exasperated.
"You weren't here." He states again. His eyes roll over you, looking for any sign of serious injury.
"I'm okay, Sam." You try to laugh, but it comes out more like a humored, sleepy sigh. "I had a bad case of the flu but I'm fine now."
He relaxes then, sagging slightly in relief.
"You still look a little sick." He says it with worry that seeps into your aching body like a warm spring day. Energizing, Rejuvenating.
"Wow-" You grin. "That's just what every girl wants to hear, Sammy." You tease, leaning back in the chair. The look on his face, panicked in a harmless way for once, makes your stomach twist. Cute. That's only word you can think to call it.
"No! No, that's not what I meant!" His eyes blow wide, hand waving in front of him. You laugh then, neck stinging and cough rising. You fight it, push it back. You know it'll only make him worry more.
"I know." You smile. "Just couldn't help it, you made it too easy." His head falls forward then, chucking in relief. "How are things going with you though?"
You pretend it's an absent-minded pleasantly. So maybe you'd thought about him during his regularly scheduled time; even though your were posted over your trash can. He smiles at you, something soft behind his eyes that you can't quite make out.
"Pretty good, actually." He sways slightly, all boyish and bright like there's something to be embarrassed about in feeling good. "Tiffany told me you helped her find the new meds. They're been working really well." He's looking down at his shoes, toes clumsily tapping the floor in a nervous movement that can't be contained even if it takes more effort now.
Your face aches from beaming at him. It really is a nice sight, something you could get used to seeing more of. Seeing Sam; happy, well rested, healthy.
"You can head back now, Sam!" Tiffany calls from down the hall. He smiles at you, nodding before heading off.
Maybe it's immature, but you can’t help the dreamy sigh that falls from your smiling lips when the door latches. You chalk it up to being off your game after being sick.
"Oh, honey. That was adorable." Your boss, Maria, pokes her head out from the hall. Your chest tightens like you've been caught in some criminal act.
"Shut up." You mumble grimly, immediately going to pull up the check-in sheet for your next appointment.
"Y'know he worried about you when he came in and saw me sitting there." She starts with a smirk. "I don't think I've seen him panic like that before." You roll your eyes.
"He's a trauma victim. He panics all the time." You shrug, feigning unimportance.
"Not like that, sweetheart." She hums, patting your back as she moves to the filing cabinet.
When he leaves, he makes a pitstop. He leans against the desk and sets a Sprite within your reach.
"I hope you feel better." He smiles meekly and then shuffles out faster than he ever has before. You don't even have a second to get a word in as you stare blankly the can, lips parted in something mixed with shock at his newfound boldness and excitement at his care.
Once the door latches and the sound of his footsteps fade, Tiffany grabs onto your shoulders and begins to shake.
"Oh my god!" She practically squeals. "I call my daughter as the flower girl!" She laughs, bright and giddy like a teenage girl talking to her friend about a crush.
Since Sam started walking on his own, every vist makes you feel giddy. His energy is contagious.
Obviously, the rough patches didn't just go away after his break through. He still has his bad days, and his worse ones too. But it's like a deep part of him sits content now. Like he's finally able to recognize himself in his own body again after nearly two years of seeing someone else in the mirror; someone broken, beaten down, not the person he was before. You'd never once thought of him that way, and it's a relief to know that the thought of himself like that is starting to fade.
But still, not all of his days are that bright. Today would end up being one of those darker days.
He'd come in smiling. His voice was sharp with excitement and his shoulders didn't seem to strain from the weight his back was now carrying all on it's own. You'd smiled along with him. It was light, easy and airy in the way that was becoming a lot more common.
You're in your exam room across the hall from Sam and Tiffany when you hear the reception bell ring. Your brows furrow in confusion. A slight bit of apprehenciation that always comes with an unexpected visit in this line of work tingles up your spine.
When you step into the lobby, you see Adam. He's a regular, but he's still fairly new. He's one of those patients that's easy in condition and difficult in the ability to tolerate. Like how he's here, now, after you'd just seen him three days ago.
Alarms in your head start to ring immediately. His movements are jittery and his pupils are blown wide. He faces you quickly, demeanor lined with desperation.
"I need you to call my doctor!" His voice is shrill as he takes a long step toward you. A cold chill runs up your back. Everything about this screams wrong. "Someone robbed me! I need my meds refilled now!" He begs, but sounds it so empty. So rehearsed. He freezes suddenly, grabbing his injured arm in a way that tells you he'd forgotten to do it from the start. His body language is so- inhuman.
"Adam-" Your hands rise slowly in an effort to calm him. Your brain immediately clicks that he's standing between you and the phone. "You know I can't do that. You have to wait two weeks before you can get your pain medicine refilled. I'm sorr-"
He moves at a speed that should be impossible and your blood runs cold. Before you can even try to move, his fingers twist into the collar of your shirt and pull your face to him.
"Get on the phone and make them give me my fucking meds!" He screams, hot breath fanning over your face. You're paralyzed between him and the wall he's backed you into.
"I can't." Your voice is shakey. Your eyes start to sting with tears where his knuckles push against you, pinning you in place.
"Now!" He yells, pulling you off the wall and pushing you back into it. It knocks the wind from your lungs. You barely register it when a hand wraps over his shoulder and suddenly the room spins back into focus.
It's a sickening crunch when Sam slams his fist against Adam's face. He doesn't give him time to fall from the impact. He shoves him against the wall, mirroring the way he'd had you seconds before.
"If I ever catch you putting your hands on someone again, I swear to god-" Sam's voice is dark as he yells, booming in a way that only someone in his field does with ease. It's intense, a switch flipped like you've never seen from him. Your legs shake as you look up to see Tiffany and Maria already on the phone.
It's the sound of Sam hitting him again that pulls you from your haze.
"Sam-" You call out, hands reaching out. You're not sure if doesn't hear you or if he's too far into his curses at Adam to bother letting up. "Sam!" Your fingers barely graze his shoulders. You're going to be making fun of yourself for the shrill of your voice for many years to come. "I'm okay. Let him go, I'm okay!" Your voice breaks, fingers curling into the back of his hoodie.
He lets go of him then and Adam slumps slightly.
"Get the fuck out." Sam's voice timbers, low and dangerous. He watches him the whole way, not willing to turn his back to him until he's really sure he's out the door.
When Tiffany clicks the lock into place and Sam turns to face you, you don't think. Your arms immediately wrap around him, holding his so tightly it must hurt. He's frozen for a minute in your grasp.
Slow and unsure, his arms slink around your waist. You feel the wetness of your own tears press against your face on the fabric of his clothes- and then you really start going. His fingers tighten, grip almost bruising as you cry quietly into him.
It's the feeling of shaking that makes you settle back down. His weight starts to tilt onto you and you feel his lower half trembling as he forces himself to stay upright.
"You need to sit down." You whisper, panicked. He lets you guide him to one of the waiting chairs without protest.
You get a good look at him then, eyes distant and chest heaving. He looks like his mind is somewhere else entirely. You don't push, not yet. You just hold his hand firmly and wait for him to pull himself back up for air.
Finally, he blink; slow and unsure as he starts to take in the room around him again. You let him. Let his eyes roam over you in worry. Let him nod his head as he silently checks off all the things that are okay. Let him squeeze your hand, fingers tapping a rhythm that has become familiar to you so that he can ground himself. He sighs and nods to himself, head dropping slightly.
"I'm sorry." He murmurs, eyes trained on his twitching legs and restless feet. The Sam you're looking at now is a complete one-eighty form the one that walked through the door less than an hour ago. His body sits like he's exhausted. His jaw is tight where he grits his teeth.
You lean down into his view, catching his eyes. Your hand squeezes.
"Thank you, Sam." You give him a soft smile. His eyes flutter shut, body relaxing into the chair. The corner of his mouth ticks up, almost imperceptibly. Air rushes into your lungs with renewed freedom, weight falling away from your chest.
He's okay.
"Take your time." You hum, hand giving his hand one more squeeze before letting go. His fingers twitch when you do, like he's fighting himself from chasing you. "I'll call Tommy to come get you." You squeeze his shoulder as you stand to leave.
Every one of Sam's visits lately leaves you anxious. Maybe it's selfish, but it gets harder and harder knowing your time with him is almost up. It's a thought that strikes you at random, sharp and feeling lethal when it hits your brain.
Nonetheless, you're happy for him.
Well, maybe not today. Today, Sam is late. Sam is never late.
Your feet tap anxiously on the floor, hands jittery as you type. Every minute that passes has your spine stiffening. Your mind runs through every awful, terrible reason he could be late. You're not sure if you're more likely to tear him a new one or jump into his arms when he arrives.
He's not alone when he comes through the door. His posture sags, feet shuffling. His smile is strained and sleepy, but still real when he sees you waiting for him. His friend doesn't look much better off. You recognize it on them instantly.
"Well, well Sammy." You can't help but laugh. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were hung over."
His head falls forward, cheeks turning pink and he smiles bashfully. His friend bumps his arm cheerily.
"Is it that bad?" He peeks up at you, one brow raised as he fights back a grin. You just nod, humming in amusement as you start to type the familiar words of his check-in sheet.
They both stand quietly, just watching you work. Sam's gaze if fond, the blonde beside him looks like he's assessing you carefully.
"What?" You look back up at them, brows raised and mock-scolding. "Nothing to say for yourselves?"
"Sammy got cleared to drive! So obviously, all his buddies had to show up and throw him a party!" Blue eyes glint playfully and he grips Sam's shoulders. You chuckle sarcastically.
"Yeah, because nothing says legal driver like getting drunk." You nod mockingly, eyes back on the computer. Sam laughs as his friend deflates under your attitude.
"C'mon back, Sam!" Tiffany calls down the hall.
When the sound of the door shutting rings out, the other ones whole demeanor changes. You realize then that he's trouble, that Sam is his babysitter.
"I'm Erik." He hums with ease, leaning against the desk. The confident energy seeps out of him as he eyes you expectantly. You can't help but snort.
"I'm not interested." You laugh, starting to type again. He grins then, all sly and knowingly as he grabs a mint from the jar.
"Oh, believe me. I know." He wags his eyebrows at you, gaze flickering down the hall in the direction Sam went. Embarrassed heat floods your veins.
"I'm sorry?" You ask, head tilting at him for clarification.
He just smirks, shrugging you off as he walks to the waiting chairs and pulls out his phone.
Your mind races excitedly the rest of the day.
Your heart is beating out of control. Your palms sweat. Bile rises in your throat. It's hard to breathe-
And Sam looks so casual.
You suppose he should be. This a big moment for him. Unless some horrific and cruel joke had been played on him by his body in the past two weeks, this is his last appointment. He's smiling so big, buzzing with that energy of being so close to freedom.
His freedom feels damning to you. It's selfish, you know that. It makes you feel worse.
Your brain tells you that you're the epitome of evil as you congratulate him and chat excitedly with him about going to a celebration dinner with his sisters. You should be elated. He's come so far, worked so hard-
But you don't want it to end. You don't want to see him walk out that door for the last time.
You decide that you won’t. When he heads back, you lock yourself away in your exam room. You tell yourself that you'll clean, and you really do mean to.
You end up just sitting on your stool, staring down at your keyboard with a million thoughts running through your head. Your chest hurt and a sour taste fills your mouth. You won't cry though, won't let yourself. It would just be too sad if you did.
You're losing. Your eyes burn, your breath catches, your hands shake.
The knock on the door feels final. Tiffany is coming to tell you excitedly that Sam is in the clear, another patient back on track to living happily and healthy.
He calls your name softly through the door.
Your eyes squeeze shut, body tensing defensively for the blow that's about to land.
"Can I come in?" He asks, but he sounds more reserved now, worrying. You roll back, unlatching the handle for him.
He enters wordlessly, sitting neatly on the end of the cot. His eyes shine, excited and maybe even a little scared of what waits for him in his freedom.
"I'm all good. Today's my last day." He laughs as he says it like he can't believe it. Your chest feels like it's being gripped from the side, lungs suffocating. You force a smile.
"Congratulat-"
"I don't wanna stop seeing you." He cuts you off, voice firm and steady like he's weighed the words in his mind. Like it's definitive.
Your eyes widen, body freezing up like you've been dunked in an ice bath. He leans forward then, face close and eyes staring into yours. His hands grip your knees, soft but steady as he grounds you to him.
"Please, don't let me stop seeing you." It's almost a whisper. His eyes are searching, desperate. It's snaps something in you and your body feels electrified.
"I'm free tomorrow night." You hum back, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the ghost of a scar under his eye.
He grins, bright and unabashed. His hands come up to hold your shoulders. To hold you in his space.
"Good." He murmurs. His hand trails up to your jaw, thumb sweeping over your cheek as he makes you look up at him.
He kisses you.
It's a short and chaste peck that leaves you burning when he pulls away too soon. He fumbles then, pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket. It's his phone number scribbled anxiously with a lazy sign of Sam♡ underneath.
"Call on me when you're free." He shrugs, and there's a weight to his word you don't quite understand yet. You want to, so bad it's stings.
You nod, folding the paper up and tucking is safely in the breast pocket of your scrubs.
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I just have to say that I found your blog yesterday and I’m OBSESSED with your fics. Like I wasn’t even sure there were Warefare fics and you helped me find them. I cannot wait to see what you make in the future!! 🩷
coming home to you (sam, warfare)
thank you so much angel! you’re so sweet ❤️ i’m so glad you’re here and i’m even happier i could introduce you to more fics! i have another sam in the works right now and would love to write more for him
coming home to you - sam (warfare)
Sam (Warfare) x female! wife! reader
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Summary:
Sam is heartbroken to leave his pregnant wife home when he’s deployed - but he doesn’t expect things to go quite so wrong.
Warnings:
Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m receiving), movie spoilers, pregnancy, war, gore!, death, serious injuries
Word Count: 6.1k
A/N:
I’m really excited to write my first Sam fic! I hope you guys like it. If details are wrong, I’m so sorry, I know nothing about the navy but I did rewatch the movie and research as best as I could. His last name is O’Brien in this. Endless thanks to @glassbxttless and @peachyproserpina for answering a million questions, reading over this, and hyping me up, and @getaapologist for feeding us with screenshots!! Also ignore that I hit the image limit so the dividers stop :))
The night before Sam shipped out, he spent it in bed with you, holding you close. You couldn’t let go of him, scared it would be the last time you ever held him. He held you just as tightly, his hand stroking through your hair, rubbing your back, breathing in the smell of your soap and shampoo and committing it to memory.
As you drifted off to sleep, head rested on Sam’s shirtless chest, he lay awake. Thinking. He wanted to savor every moment he had with you, even if it meant he slept the whole flight tomorrow. His hand drifted down to press against your stomach, still as it always was. You were days from the positive pregnancy test, barely 6 weeks. Still so new, still made Sam’s heart beat wildly in his chest when he thought too hard about it. Especially when he thought about how he wouldn’t be there for the birth, or even the beginning of their life.
He knew that, god willing, he’d be coming home to a son or daughter, already a year old. A child who would be too young to understand, who he would be a stranger to. That scared the shit out of him, even more than going overseas. He didn’t know the first thing about being a father. His own father was fine, a little strict, but being a father himself was something else entirely. There was no preparing for it, and he would be thrown right into it when he returned.
You still hadn’t told anyone yet. When you came running to Sam, tears in your eyes and a positive pregnancy test in your hand, Tommy and Erik had been the first people Sam wanted to call. He was ecstatic, although terrified, and wanted to share the news with his brothers right away. But you stopped him, a huge smile on your face and your hand on his chest.
“Not yet,” you’d said, feeling his heartbeat thudding beneath your palm. “Let’s keep this our little secret just a little bit longer.”
It had been hard for Sam to keep his mouth shut, but he enjoyed having that private thing to share between you. When you were around the guys, he felt so giddy, like it could spill out at any moment. When you’d decline a beer, you’d meet eyes for only a moment, a huge smile on Sam’s face.
But now it was time to leave, and the reality was setting in. His stomach was in knots. He’d never been so nervous to ship off, not even his first time. He didn’t want to miss any of this. He wanted to see your belly grow, to go to doctors appointments, to hold your hand when your baby was born. He wouldn’t get any of that. He had always been sad to leave you for tours, but this was worse. Now he was leaving two people he loved more than anything.
He couldn’t remember when he finally fell asleep. But the next thing he knew, his alarm was going off, and he startled awake. The sun had barely risen, the sky barely turning blue through the bedroom window. You were still tangled up around him, sleeping soundly. He carefully, reluctantly, untangled your limbs from around his own and lifted himself from the bed, the springs creaking slightly. He turned back in time to see you snuggling into his pillow, holding it much like you’d held him.
He dressed in his uniform, grabbing his bag that had already been packed. He slung the heavy pack over his shoulders, looking back at you sleeping peacefully in your shared bed. He walked over, smoothing his hand over your hair. You stirred slightly but remained asleep. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
Your eyes fluttered open, barely awake. “Leaving?” you asked, your voice still weak with sleep.
Sam nodded. “Yeah, baby. I’ve gotta go.”
You frowned, sitting up in the bed and wiping at your eyes. “Okay,” you croaked. You placed your hands on either side of his face, pulling him in for a long, passionate kiss. He returned it, the kiss stirring something in his chest that he had to push away for now. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said. “So much.” He rubbed a hand over your abdomen. “Both of you. Take care of yourselves. I’ll write you every week.”
“I know you will.” You kissed him again, shorter this time. “Bye, Sammy.”
He grinned at the nickname. “Bye, sweetheart.”
You laid back down, falling back into your slumber quickly. Sam stood, walking towards the bedroom door. He stopped by the dresser. He looked down at his hands, smoothing his thumb over his gold wedding band. Then he reluctantly slipped it off his finger, laying it gently on the table next to your jewelry. He knew it would be waiting right there for him when he got back.
He took one last look at you, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and kiss you breathless. But instead he opened the door, heading out into the rest of the house before slipping out the front door and locking it behind him, leaving you alone.
You wrote to Sam every week. Every letter included a whole breakdown from your pregnancy books, the fruit size comparison and a breakdown of how you’d been feeling, what the doctor had said, ultrasound photos and bump pictures you took in the mirror. Sometimes a private photo just for Sam’s eyes, ones he’d hide in his belongings and pull out only when he was alone. It was what kept him going.
Waiting to go home to you felt like a lifetime, although he kept busy with OP1. He felt a lump in his throat every time he pulled out a photo to see you having grown bigger. He felt like he was missing the most important event of his life.
He was sitting in the barracks, laughing with Erik, Tommy, and Elliott, when the mail was brought in for the week. He sat up straighter, eyeing the bag of mail as it was distributed, impatiently waiting his turn.
“Excited to hear from your girl, O’Brien?” Elliott teased, sly grin on his face. “Let me know if she sent any good photos this time.”
Sam shoved his friend hard in the shoulder, but they both laughed. He knew those photos were for his eyes only, anyway, although the guys liked to tease him about his hot wife back home. He knew his wife was hot, but still.
When Sam was handed his mail, he found the one with your name on it and immediately tore into it. He pulled out the letter and watched as a couple photos fell out, landing facedown on the table. He would look at those after.
He immediately began reading the letter, his heart thudding faster when he saw the “20 weeks” scribbled at the top in your handwriting. He knew what that meant. You had been talking about how excited you were for this appointment in your letters for weeks. This was it.
He read your letter, talking about how things had been on the base with the other wives, how you’d been feeling, what you’d been up to. Baby the size of a mango. How your mom had come for a visit and drove you crazy for a week. He loved hearing all the mundane things happening back home, but his heart was thudding in anticipation for the news he was waiting for.
The letter ended with your usual - Hope you enjoy the pictures! All my love. - and your name signed in swirling script. His gaze dropped down to the photos. One was very clearly an ultrasound photo - he was familiar with them by now. He reached for the other first.
One of you in the mirror like you sent every week. You had really popped, he thought as his eyes widened. Your belly was perfectly rounded, your hand resting at the bottom as you posed for the photo in the mirror that hung on the back of your closet door. You had a bright smile on your face. You looked beautiful.
His eyes dropped down to the upside down ultrasound photo. He reached for it slowly, as if he were scared. He lifted it with a shaking hand, then finally, finally turned it over.
He had yet to see an ultrasound where the baby looked so much like a baby. It nearly took his breath away - and that was before he noticed the writing typed onto the photo.
It’s a girl!
“Holy fuck,” Sam muttered, in total disbelief. “Holy shit!”
“What?” Erik asked, looking over at Sam’s shocked yet elated expression.
Sam looked up, seeing the whole room of his brothers looking at him. “It’s a girl,” he said. “It’s a girl!”
The whole room erupted into cheers, patting him on the back and congratulating him, pushing him around playfully and making comments about how he’d have his work cut out for him as he smiled bigger than he had since he’d left home. He couldn’t believe it. He was having a daughter.
As your pregnancy progressed towards the end, Sam grew weary. He missed you. Seeing the photos you sent made him long for you like he never had before. He wanted to take care of you - something about seeing you pregnant made him extra protective, and here he was, overseas and only able to communicate with you through letters. He longed to feel the baby kick, to help you set up the nursery, to tell you to go sit down and rest while he took care of things.
As you reached the last couple weeks, his anxiety was at an all time high. He was on a mission from weeks 35-38, and every day he worried the baby would come and he wouldn’t know. So when they returned to the base and he caught up on your letters, seeing the babe was still safely growing, he felt immense relief.
It was a week after they had returned when he got a letter that was thicker than usual. His chest tightened - he knew before he even opened it. He stared at the unopened letter, frozen and face pale.
“What’s wrong, man?” Erik had asked, but then he looked at the letter the other man’s eyes were locked onto. His eyebrows raised. “Is that-?”
“I think so,” Sam muttered.
“Well, open it!” Elliott said, the guys all crowding around, waiting to see.
With the courage of his brothers surrounding him, he ripped open the letter. He pulled out the letter itself and a large stack of photos - the one on top featuring the most beautiful baby he had ever seen.
A birth announcement. A newborn baby girl laid wrapped in a blanket, her eyes closed, a head full of brown hair. She had your nose and lips, Sam’s hair and eye shape. He swore his heart stopped beating. At the bottom - Olivia Claire O’Brien. The name you had decided on after a long back and forth in letters, the name that somehow fit her so well.
Sam stared at the photo in shock, barely able to hear the cheers and commotion around him. He couldn’t believe it. He had a daughter waiting for him back home now - a real, living, breathing daughter. His daughter.
“She’s beautiful, man,” Tommy said, flashing a genuine smile as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. Sam somehow pulled himself together, muttering a bashful thank you to his brothers.
“Congrats dude,” Elliott contributed, rubbing the top of Sam’s bald head.
“You’re gonna be a great dad,” Erik said, and that made him feel better than anything he’d ever heard. Now, he just had to get through the rest of this tour so he could get home to his girls.
It was supposed to be a standard surveillance mission.
Things had never gone so horribly wrong.
Elliott had gotten hit by shrapnel from a grenade, and he needed a CASEVAC. They were supposed to just escort him out to the tank then get back into the house - but an IED had gone off.
Sam had woken up disoriented, his head pounding, ears ringing. He didn’t know what the fuck had happened. Then, the pain crept in. He looked down and saw his right leg twisted the wrong direction, small fires burning his pants and skin.
“Oh my god,” he said, his voice trembling. “Oh my god, fuck! Fuck! Oh my god!”
He didn’t know what the fuck had happened but the next thing he knew Erik was stumbling over, patting his leg to put out the flames. “Ow, ow, ow,” he said, still coming back to himself, nausea and fear roiling in his stomach.
He looked over to his left, seeing a body completely blown in half. Panic rose in his chest, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
Erik began dragging Sam back into the house - and that’s when the pain became the worst thing he could possibly imagine. He screamed, a loud, guttural scream of terror and pain and pure misery. He felt like his leg was still on fire, like it was going to rip right off.
Erik pulled him into the house, laying him on the ground. Sam was relieved to not be moving anymore, but once the pain had kicked in, it didn’t stop. He groaned loudly, moaning in pain, desperate for some kind of relief. He barely noticed Ray and Tommy pulling an unconscious Elliott into the house behind him.
“Two rooms deep!” somebody yelled, and then he was being dragged again, screaming. When he stopped moving he unbuckled his helmet and pulled it off, tossing it to the side. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Ray began checking him over. They rolled Sam onto his side as he gritted his teeth, still moaning in pain. It felt better being back on his back, but not by much. Ray grabbed a pack of gauze and stuffed it into the wound in Sam’s leg, and again - he screamed. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. He thought he was going to be sick.
Sam heard Ray speaking into the radio. “We have two severely wounded. We need another CASEVAC as soon as possible. Be advised an IED caused the injuries, over.”
Even more panic rose in Sam’s body. He wasn’t sure he heard Ray right, until he related it into the radio again “We have two severely wounded. We need another CASEVAC.”
“Who’s the severely wounded?” Sam asked, grabbing onto Ray’s arm. “Is it me?”
“No, it’s not you,” Ray lied, trying to calm his friend. “It’s not you.”
“Then who is it??” Sam asked, getting more worked up by the minute. “Who is it?? Who the fuck is it? Who is it?”
“You’re okay, calm down,” Ray said. “You just think about that beautiful baby girl, okay? And that hot wife of yours, remember? They’re waiting for you. They need you, okay? You’re gonna get home to them, okay?”
Sam took in his words, his mind flipping through images of you, of his daughter. “Okay,” he said, calming the slightest bit. “O-okay.”
Ray reached into the front pocket of Sam’s uniform. His brothers knew what he kept there. He pulled out the photo of you holding Olivia, and pressed it into Sam’s shaking, bloody hand. “You’re going to see them soon, okay? You focus on them. That’s what fucking matters.”
Sam nodded, taking the photo and holding it where he could see it. He had smeared blood onto it, dust now coated it and made it slightly harder to see, but it was you. It was you and it was Livvy and that’s what he focused on, trying to push the pain out of his mind with thoughts of coming home to you both.
You sat in Sam’s recliner in the living room, rocking a sleeping Olivia in your arms. She was 6 weeks old now and had been fussier than usual. It was hard to take care of her without any help, but you loved it. You loved her. And you knew Sam would, too. Hell, he hadn’t even met her yet and he was already obsessed with her.
You rocked gently as you watched TV with the volume on low. You were barely paying any attention, your eyes heavy. You’d been running on little sleep. Erik’s wife and your best friend, Viv, had been by nearly every day to help. She loved the baby time and you loved the cherished rest it afforded you.
The large framed wedding photo on the wall caught your eye. It had been the happiest day of your life - tied with the day Livvy had been born. Sam wore his dress uniform, looking handsome as ever. You wore a gorgeous white dress with long lace sleeves. In the photo you clutched onto his arm, a smile taking over your entire face. Sam looked equally elated. Surrounding the large portrait were smaller photos, the both of you with your families and your wedding party.
The sound of the phone ringing brought you out of your reminiscing. You grabbed it quickly, hitting the answer button before it had time to wake Olivia. She stirred, but remained asleep.
“Hello?” you answered, keeping your voice quiet.
“Mrs. O’Brien?”
You froze. Panic crept beneath your skin. “Yes?”
The man over the line introduced himself. “I’m a Casualty Assistance Calls Officer.”
Your blood ran cold. Casualty? Oh god. Oh god. You felt as if you might be sick. You tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder and stood, walking to the other side of the room and laying Olivia in a bassinet. “Is- is Sam-“
“Petty Officer O’Brien was injured in combat,” the man said. That’s when your knees gave out, your body dropping back down into the chair. “He was involved in an IED explosion. He sustained serious injuries to both legs. He’s currently receiving treatment on base, but will be shipping home in the next few weeks.”
Sam was hurt. But he was alive, you thought as relief rushed through you. He was alive and he was coming home. But how would this change his life?
The officer gave you little more information, but promised to be in touch with updates regularly. You asked if you could speak with him, but were told he was heavily medicated for the time being. When you hung up the phone, you felt as if your entire world had been tipped on its axis. Everything felt shifted, like nothing would be the same.
You wanted nothing more than to run to him, to be by his side. But you were helpless to do anything but sit and wait.
Sam was out of it for a while. He had life saving surgeries overseas before he was finally sent back home to continue care and rest in his own bed, his own house, with his family.
His family.
All he could think about on the flight home was seeing you again, and meeting Livvy. If he was honest with himself, he was terrified. Being a dad was a new kind of challenge, one he didn’t know if he was prepared for. What if he fucked it up? What if he couldn’t be a good dad because of his injuries? What if he couldn’t run and play with his daughter?
His legs ached as he sat through the hours long flight. He took some of his pain medication, which helped a bit and allowed him to get a little sleep. He rested his head against the window, watching the clouds pass by until the pain waned and he drifted off.
The plane touching down woke him from his slumber, jolting him awake. He looked around, recognizing the base. He was back home in Coronado. He felt a weight off his chest.
That anxiety came back when he was helped off the plane and into his wheelchair. He hated it. He always hated feeling weak, and now he physically was. He knew it wasn’t his fault, and the doctors promised he would regain the ability to walk eventually. It was just going to be a long journey.
He was pushed away from the plane and through the base, his stomach churning. This was it. He fidgeted with the material of his pants as he looked everywhere for you.
Then - there you were.
You spotted each other at the same time. Erik’s wife, Viv, stood next to you, and in your arms was the most beautiful little girl he’d ever seen. You held her at your side, your hand against her back for support. You handed her to Viv and then you were running.
As you got closer, Sam could see the massive smile on your face, the tears brimming in your eyes. He reached out for you, a matching smile on his own lips. You pulled him into an embrace as you reached him and he held you back just as tightly, laughing in relief that he was home, he was here, he was holding you.
You pulled back slightly before pressing your lips to his. God, it had been over a year since he’d kissed anyone, over a year since he’d even seen a pretty girl in person. He wanted so badly to pull you onto his lap and kiss you deeper.
You pulled back and held your hands on either side of his face, as if you weren’t convinced he was real. He felt the same way about you, his hands gripping onto your waist. You looked even more beautiful than when he’d left, if that was possible. There was a kind of motherly glow about you that made his heart beat wildly.
“You’re here,” you said, still smiling as a few tears escaped, and he laughed.
“I’m here, baby,” he said. He pulled you down for another quick kiss, and then his eyes were drawn behind you.
You turned to see Viv holding a fussing Olivia, then faced Sam again. “Want to meet your daughter?”
His mouth went dry - but yes, he wanted that more than anything. You stepped behind his wheelchair and pushed him over. As he got closer, he could see the little girl better. She looked like the perfect mix between the two of you. She was perfect.
“Hey, Sammy,” Viv greeted with a smile as you stopped his chair. Sam greeted her back, but he was barely paying attention. You were taking Livvy from her arms, and then you were gently setting the baby in Sam’s arms.
“Livvy,” you cooed to the baby. “This is your daddy.”
Olivia looked at him curiously. Seeing her so close, being able to hold her and touch her, took Sam’s breath away. “Hi, baby girl,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her chubby cheek, then pulled her close and placed a kiss to the top of her head.
Livvy smiled at him, reaching for his nose. Sam laughed, pure joy coursing through his veins. He pulled her in for a hug, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her back as she was content to just be held by her dad. Viv snapped pictures in the background, but he hardly noticed.
He had his family back.
—
Sam spent the day playing with Livvy as well as he could. She adored him already, clinging to him and laughing so hard every time he’d make a funny face or play peekaboo. Sam was overjoyed. He had never felt so content.
That night, you rocked Livvy to sleep in the recliner while Sam watched, a warm smile on his face. When she was out, you carried her gently to the nursery and laid her down. She didn’t wake, just rolled onto her side and settled.
You walked out into the living room. Sam sat on the couch, his wheelchair against the wall. The TV played some cable movie with the volume on low, but he wasn’t paying much attention.
He was watching you. You walked over with a playful smile, your little sleep shorts hanging low on your hips. Sam licked his lips - god, it had been so long since he’d seen you in person, so long since he’d been able to touch your body. He reached for you and you went to him.
His hands found purchase on your hips, thumbs rubbing the exposed skin between your shorts and shirt. His breath caught in his throat. All the blood in his body rushed down south, like he was a teenager and this was his first time touching a girl.
“Want you so bad,” he mumbled. He pulled you closer, and you leaned down and kissed him.
“I wanna take care of you,” you whispered. “Can I?”
Could you? Hell fucking yes.
Sam nodded, nipping at your bottom lip one more time before he watched you sink down to your knees in front of him. His cock was filling out his sweatpants, so eager for you to touch him he could hardly stand it.
You eyed the outline of his cock through his grey sweats, mouth watering, core aching as you thought about having him inside you again. It had been so long.
You reached for his waistband and gently pulled them down. His already hard cock sprung free, tip red and leaking in anticipation. “Baby…” he muttered, his pupils blown as he watched you between his legs.
You could see the scars on his thighs, making your heart ache, but you turned your attention back to where he needed you most. He threaded his fingers through your hair as you wrapped a hand around his shaft, making him hiss.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his cock throbbing in your grip.
You moved forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, tongue teasing over his slit. He groaned, head dropping back against the back of the couch.
“Fuck, baby,” he moaned. “It’s been too fuckin’ long. Need you so bad…need your mouth.”
You couldn’t resist his pleads. You took more of him into your mouth, tongue tracing the vein on the underside as you took him down your throat. Sam’s grip tightened in your hair, another low groan spilling from his lips. You set a slow pace, letting him savor the feeling of your mouth.
“Fuck, fuck yeah,” he breathed. His free hand grabbed onto the couch cushion. “So good, baby. Feels so good.”
You hummed around his dick, which drove him crazy. He was panting above you, barely able to hold on. He’d been dreaming of this, especially when you’d send those photos that were for his eyes only. If only he could see more of you.
He watched the way your lips wrapped around his girth, the way you’d look up at him through your long eyelashes, looking so innocent despite what you were doing to him. He bucked his hips up as much as he could without hurting himself, wishing he could fuck your face like you sometimes let him do. Fuck, he loved that.
You gently cupped his balls, massaging them in your hand as his cock twitched in your mouth. He was breathing heavier now, his legs starting to shake. His hold on you was a little rougher, his moans a little more desperate. You knew he was close.
“G’na cum,” he groaned. “I’m so close.”
You lifted off of him, working his shaft with your hand instead. “Where do you wanna cum, baby?”
“On your face and tits,” he answered quickly, his voice strained. “Please. Please.”
You stopped long enough to pull your sleep shirt over your head, revealing your bare tits to him, the cold air making your nipples harden in the dim light of the living room. His cock twitched again and then he was moaning as you wrapped your mouth around him once more.
You sucked him off, taking him all the way to the back of your throat. He was losing his mind above you. When he started throbbing against your tongue, his moans getting a little higher, thighs and hands trembling, you knew he was right there. You pulled off of him once more, jerking him off quickly while you looked up at him.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck,” he moaned. “Gonna…oh shit-“
He let out a choked moan as he came, his cum spurting onto your face and chest, covering you in his spend. He watched with wide eyes, thinking he had never seen anything hotter in his life. You looked perfect like this.
When he had finished, he sat there breathing heavily while you cleaned yourself up with some tissues. You smiled at him playfully - and he beckoned you over. He tucked himself back in his sweats and pulled you down to sit next to him, cuddled against his chest.
“I fucking love you,” he said, before leaning in and kissing you hard. You returned it, hand resting on his strong chest.
“I love you too,” you said, and god, did you.
—
Recovery was slow. Sam was still in a lot of pain. He had multiple more surgeries to go through, and a rigorous physical therapy schedule. But he was determined to keep his legs, and determined to regain the ability to walk. He felt useless as he was. He knew he would never be active duty again, but he wanted to do something.
The only bright spots in his life were you and Olivia. He loved playing with his daughter. She loved sitting on his lap, watching Sesame Street with her dad. He’d watch kids shows all day long if it meant he got to spend time with her.
It took Livvy no time at all to warm up to Sam. She adored him. It’s like she knew the second he held her that that was her dad. “Dada” was her first word, and any time anyone else held her, she reached for him. She hardly ever took her eyes off him.
Sam still had bad days. Some days the pain was significantly worse than others. Some days his mental state was what he struggled with.
This was one of those days where he struggled with both. He had been feeling down, although he wouldn’t admit it, it was obvious to you. You wanted to do something to make him feel better.
You left Sam in bed taking a nap after his physical therapy. You had called Viv and asked if she wanted to watch Livvy for the night - she said yes, of course, and was excited for a sleepover with her and Erik’s goddaughter. Viv came by during Sam’s nap and picked her up. You gave your daughter a million kisses before you allowed her to go, but you knew she would be safe.
When Sam awoke, it was already 7pm. He called for you, still unable to do much on his own. You walked into the room to find him there, still looking as if he hated himself.
“Do you need some help?” you asked him softly, brushing your hand over his hair that was slowly growing out.
“Bathroom,” he mumbled, not meeting your eyes.
You grabbed his crutches from against the wall and helped him stand. Once he was situated on them he was able to hobble into the bathroom while you waited for him. When he was done, you helped him lay back down.
You crawled into bed next to him, cuddling up to his side. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. “Where’s Livvy?”
“Sleepover with Auntie Viv,” you said. “Just us tonight.”
Sam smirked down at you. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” you giggled. “What, you have something you want to do?”
“Maybe,” he teased. He shifted so he could face you better, then he tilted your head up, leaning down to kiss your soft lips.
His tongue traced your bottom lip and you happily let him in, your own meeting his as he pressed his body into yours. His hand rested on your waist and he pulled you closer, bringing you onto his lap.
“Are you sure?” you asked, gently straddling him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me,” Sam mumbled, kissing down your neck and nipping at the spot that always made you gasp. Your hands tightened on his broad shoulders. “I want this. I need it.”
You and Sam still hadn’t had sex since he’d been home. You were scared he was still in too much pain - and for a while, he was. But now he was healing, and he wanted more than anything to be inside of you.
You reached down between you and lowered his sweatpants, large cock springing free, already hard and needy. It throbbed between you, so desperate to get in your pussy he could hardly stand it. You lifted yourself up and pushed your shorts and panties down, Sam helping.
He grabbed the base of his cock and dragged it through your folds, already soaking wet just from the thought of fucking him again. He lined himself up at your entrance then gripped onto your waist as you held onto his shoulders and lowered yourself down onto him.
You did it slowly, both so you could adjust and so you could watch Sam’s face for any sign of pain. You saw none - in fact, his face contorted in pleasure, his head falling back against the headboard.
“Christ,” he groaned. “Just as fuckin’ tight as I remembered.”
You whined as his girth stretched you - it felt like your first time again. His hands were trembling where they held you. His eyes went wide when you landed flush against him, finally buried completely in your tight heat.
You slowly, experimentally, rocked your hips against him. “Is this okay?”
“Oh yeah,” he grunted, using his hands to guide your hips a little faster.
You were nervous, but you knew he’d let you know if something didn’t feel good. You let yourself bring your hips down against him harder, the curls at his base rubbing against your clit just right.
“Sammy,” you moaned, starting to carefully bounce on him. He kept his guiding hands on you, encouraging you to go a little harder, a little faster.
“You feel so good, baby,” he said, his voice low and laced with desire. “I needed this so fuckin’ bad. You have no idea.”
You thought you did have an idea, because you felt the same way. You were keening, head thrown back as you bounced on him, the curve of his cock pressing perfectly against that bundle of nerves at your front walls.
He began thrusting up into you, grunting with every movement of his hips. The bed frame creaked with your movements - it hadn’t seen any action in a good while. Sam ran his hands up your front to pull your shirt off then grab at your tits, his thumbs rubbing against your hardened nipples. In this position they were bouncing right in his face, just like he liked them.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you in my whole fucking life.”
You smiled, looking down at him. “You sure you’re not just saying that because I’m riding you right now?” you asked him, breathless.
“Doesn’t hurt,” he teased.
You grinned, bouncing a little faster. He hissed, fingers tightening on your waist. You stopped immediately. “Are you okay?”
“Just hurt a little,” he said, though you could tell he was downplaying it. “Don’t stop though. Maybe just a little slower.”
Hesitantly, you rocked your hips again, watching him carefully. When he seemed alright, you worked back into a steady rhythm. He was letting out quiet little moans, leaning forward to wrap his lips around your nipple and pull your body against his.
“Sammy,” you moaned. “I’m so close.”
“Cum for me,” he begged. “Please. Need to feel you squeezin’ around me. I want you to cum on my cock, baby, please.”
It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you were crying out, your head falling forward onto his shoulder as you rocked against him, pussy clenching around him and pushing him over the edge. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you flush against him, groaning your name as he thrusted up with every release, filling you the way he liked.
You just held each other like that, breathing heavily. A sheen of sweat covered your skin. Sam kissed your shoulder affectionately. “I love you. More than anything.”
“I love you too, Sammy.” You kissed his lips one more time before carefully sliding off his lap. You cuddled up against him under the covers.
Things were different now. But you were happy.
part 2 soon
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