#sergeant!reader

[yourstrulyrani]

reader x ghost except reader is middle eastern and kinda self conscious of how her arms are lowkey as hairy as his and thinks shes “less feminine” for it (im projecting)

simon riley x sergeant/woc!reader summary: you hate your arm hair amongst other things, but simon couldn't care less. & a little banter about colonizing w/ simon bc he's a british babe LMAO a/n: OMG YES PLEASE I'M PAKISTANI AND I HAVE ARM HAIR SO THIS SPOKE TO ME OMGGGG YESSSSSSSS PLEASEEEE i love your mind. i had so much fun writing this btw.

If Simon Riley was given the chance to describe you, "unfeminine" wouldn't be on the list. You thought otherwise, however.

"I mean look at this, LT. I have as much arm hair as you at this point." You huffed in frustration. You were in the fitness center on the treadmill, trousers and short-sleeved shirt showcasing your arms. You knew you had hair. You didn't have to use eyebrow pencil because your eyebrows were already thick enough. You didn't have to use mascara all the time because your eyelashes were long enough. You barely even used any hair products because thank goodness the hair on your head was healthy enough.

You loved your hair until it came down to your arms. You extend your arms out in front of you, showing your lieutenant the hair growth on them. He was on the treadmill beside you running. While you huffed in frustration at your physical appearance, he was huffing because of physical exertion.

He slows down the speed to a brisk walk before talking to you. "It's just hair, you know." He shrugs his shoulders, "Normal."

You squint at the tall man in annoyance. Why is he so nonchalant about this? "Easy for you to say." You bite back. "As a woman I shouldn't have this much hair on my arms. It's weird and not even feminine."

"Said who?" He tilts his head. If he had the courage. (which he still has yet to build up even after working with you for several years) he would take you by the arms, pin them over your head, and make out with every inch of your body until he gets in between your legs. Hopefully then, you would feel like a woman. tell you how beautiful you were. That you were, to him, the epitome of being a woman. You were strong-willed yet kind, fierce yet ethical, and had a job that most men would rather scurry away from than ever think of pursuing.

"Said the models on social media." You let out a breathless exhale. "Said the girls on Youtube who give you 'tips and tricks' on how to get a guy."

"The only thing that isn't feminine are the women telling you that you aren't feminine because of some hair, Sarge. Hair is hair. Never hurt anyone." You give him a glance. Most men wouldn't say that. They'd tell you to shave or wax it off. But not Ghost, you can see the truth in his eyes. He truly doesn't mind.

He continues on, "Also, it's normal because of your genetics. People in the Middle East, Asia, and generally warmer areas are genetically designed to have more body hair because it provides thermal protection. Your ancestors had it so it was just something that has passed on." Ghost continued on his reassurance that your hair was perfectly normal.

You never thought about it that way. You never saw it in that light, that it was simply for your protection. You then thought about the other things you thought were weird, like your nose. You knew that a nose job wouldn't hurt, but some of your ancestors had this same nose.

What would you gain if you altered a piece of their history that you literally, physically, had on you? You wouldn't be any better than the colonizers who stole from them.

You decided to banter, "That's rich coming from a Brit you know. The only reason so many countries have an independence day is because of Britain."

Ghost lets out a throaty chuckle, "I'll take care of the reparations then, Sarge." Ghost takes a look at your arms. Something human and feminine. "I meant what I said though, about the whole arm hair thing. Hair is normal. Don't be ashamed of something you have because someone told you otherwise." He paused, taking a look at your sweat-glistened body. "You're perfect the way you were made." The sentence came out in a mutter, fearing that it was too intimate for a man like him. He hoped you didn't hear it either, which was a success.

You gave Simon a warm smile, "I know you mean it, LT."

"Simon works too you know," he offers you his name.

"I know you mean it, Simon." His name escaped your lips in a pant because of your current cardio session on the treadmill and immediately Simon felt his shorts grow tighter in the middle. He tried to sneakily adjust himself by tugging at the ends of them, his body lowering and knees pointing outwards for a moment to adjust.

If Simon Riley was given the chance to describe you, "unfeminine" wouldn't be on the list. There would be feminine. Amongst dangerous, sweet, desirable, lovable, cherished, and so close to ruin yet so far to even have.

Sometimes as a white guy, specifically British guy, Simon would never think of pursuing a woman like you. Not in the sense that you were unworthy, but that you needed a man who was worthy of you. Your culture was rich and he was one of many witnesses of it. He saw the flag on the right shoulder of your uniform that wasn't the American or the Union Flag. He saw the way your lips would curl to speak your language that wasn't English. He saw you in the kitchen on base in the middle of the night cooking alongside little steel tins of various spices. He heard the way your accent coated your tongue when you spoke English. You were a woman to be respected. A woman of so much history. A woman whose ancestors fought his own people in resilience. Simon, because of this, saw himself to be a man with such little potential.

The professionalism between a sergeant and their lieutenant was a dynamic Simon never thought about sabotaging until you became that special sergeant.

(i need me a british man so he can pay his reparations by going down on me and licking my cl— OMG WHO SAID THAT)

[softaestluv]

more! | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Just thinking about Ghost having a shy, quiet wife. The glaring opposite of Ghost, painted in black and blood while you’re adorned in lace and frills. Smooth skin and delicate flesh, warm eyes and a bashful smile. Soft-spoken and so fucking sweet.

No one else knows about you, or that he’s married, not from lack of wanting people to know he has such a pretty dove waiting for him at home, but because he knows all the men on base would eat you alive.

But one day, he forgets the lunch you made him. It takes everything in you to refrain yourself from driving to base to make sure he has something to eat— you know he doesn’t have the healthiest eating habits.

You choose to message him, something he usually responds fairly quickly to. Always at your beck and call just in case his sweet girl needs him, but he doesn’t answer. Your lips are pinched raw with worry by the time you decide to get in your car.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when a sergeant interrupts the meeting Ghost’s in— ‘Lieutenant, um, Mrs. Riley is waiting outside for you.’

Ghost is on his feet in an instant, it must be some emergency if you’re there. He rushes to the hallway, everyone else in the room stumbling behind to snoop through the thin crack of the door, see who their big bad Lieutenant is married to.

And there you are, Tupperware container in your manicured hands, white dress covering your frame with matching ribbons and bows in your hair. The look on your face is anxious, right up until you see Ghost, your eyes softening as he approaches you with wide strides despite the fact that he’s twice your size, hulking and threatening.

“Sweet’art, everything okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, brows furrowing as he does a once over your figure, checking for injury.

You exhale a quiet laugh, “No, baby. You just forgot your lunch, and you didn’t answer your phone so I got worried you would go the whole day without eating.”

He cups your jaw, a smile breaking out on his face. His sergeants are baffled for several reasons— they did not expect their Lieutenant to be married to such a sweet thing, nor had they ever heard their Lieutenant speak in such a soft, hushed tone, never seen him touch something with such care, like you were so fragile in the palms of his hands.

They would’ve thought it was all a joke if it wasn’t for the massive diamond ring on your finger, or the way you pushed deeper into his touch.

“Sorry, dove, just been in a meetin’ all day.”

He stamps a kiss against your lips, lets himself linger just a little longer than he should because he knows the whole room is watching from behind the door.

“Sweetest little wife, aren’t you?”

[forsworned]

Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

[nandanandada]

[skauni]

Can’t stop thinking about Soap calling himself ‘Uncle Johnny’ around your kids but they consider him a dad because that’s how he acts:

When your friend John MacTavish found out that your boyfriend dumped you after you got pregnant, he was right by your side for all of it. Saying “Dunnae worry, Bonny. Uncle Johnny’s gonna help with the wee bairns.”

And he did. He was there the whole pregnancy, even went as far as moving in so you could rest and he could keep an eye on you.

When you went into labor, he was there. He was there for everything. From the birth of your twins, Aster and Cody, to the sleepless nights after, he was there. You even heard him in the middle of the night telling them “Dunnae worry wee ones, Uncle Johnny’s here. Nothin’ t’fear.” And you loved how dedicated he was to helping you.

When the boys got old enough to talk, you were unfortunate enough to witness the fact that they spoke their first words in Scottish accents. Just like John. It wasn’t bad, it just meant you had a hard time understanding them is all.

When you couldn’t watch them, he would. Saying “Let Uncle Johnny watch the wee lads.”

But, as soon as the boys called him ‘Dad’ for the first time, he looked at you eagerly and said “I suppose Uncle Johnny is becoming the Papa of these wee lads, aye Bonny?” He said to you. You blushed at the comment and looked away in flustered embarrassment.

[drdawnbreaker]

Here me out. Right after Bucky has finally settled into a routine at the compoud with the others now that he's a free man. He slowly starts to explore hobbies again and pick up old habits he used to have when he was younger in the 40s. One of those, being smoking.

Now, I'm not saying smoking is not good for you. And Bucky knows thats, but fuck does it feel nice to have a smoke right after a mission. One with a glass of whiskey and a vintage vinyl lowly playing as he sits spread leg on his nice leather sofa that Sam and Nat helped him buy.

And when he met you, oh he was fucked. You quickly became his little devil on his shoulder. He'd have a cigarette after sex (pun intended) with you, and he swore He'd never felt more relaxed. After a long mission, you could taste the whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue, driving you to ride him until he was near past out. He thought you were everything he needed in his life...

Until you convinced him to try weed. Oh boy. The team thought he was a different person the one time they caught him high. His filter, gone. His sass, tripled. and his sex drive... through the fucking roof!! He has you bent over the back of the couch, blunt between his plump lips as he pounds into your dripping cunt. Your fogged brain high and happy as you feel Bucky send you over the edge again and again. Both of you would be fucking like rabbits before, either A) you both pass out. Or B) someone would come looking for you two. God forbid the poor sap that walks in on you two going at it.

Double points if it's steve. He's either joining or becoming a tomato and running away. Noting in-between.

Guess what.. i made a lil imagine of steve joining -> Enjoy teehee.

[luxcuriousao3]

Task Force 141 + The Best They've Ever Had

Just thinking about you being the best fuck the boys have ever had.

warnings: smut (obvi), piv, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, protected sex, fingering, briefly mentioned s/m but no actual s/m, reader is kinda a fuck boy (fuck girl?), slight hint of dacryphillia if you squint maybe, no use of y/n

Gaz

You go for Gaz first—he's the prettiest, and he's incredibly smooth. He charms you easily, makes you comfortable enough to invite him back to your place despite having just met that night. He's all confidence and no arrogance. He knows he looks good and he knows he fucks good. He's sure he's going to blow your mind, leave you aching for more…

Instead, you give him head so good his climax comes early, his come flooding your mouth. A broken moan leaves him when you swallow and look up at him through your lashes, a sweet, innocent smile on your face, but your eyes are sultry enough to get a man hard in seconds. His spent cock twitches valiantly, but his orgasm was so strong that he knows he won’t be able to go again for hours.

He’s incredibly embarrassed, but he tries not to show it, and gets you off twice in apology—once with his fingers and once with his mouth. You see him out at the end of the night. He was hoping to stay longer, perhaps get to fuck you after all, but you’re a busy woman, and you’ve got things to do early tomorrow morning.

Gaz doesn’t tell the rest of the boys about this particular hookup, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from Soap—but he keeps the memory of it close for long, lonely missions.

Price

Perhaps surprisingly, Price is your next victim hookup. He doesn’t get out much, but you manage to catch him on one of his rare nights off.

He takes you back to his place, a small but neat flat not far from the base he’s stationed at. There’s a fine layer of dust on all of the furniture, showing how rarely he’s home, and he’s amused by you jokingly asking if he’s actually breaking you into someone else’s apartment.

He pours you both a glass of wine, and you talk for a while as you drink, continuing to get to know one another. Well, it’s really just him getting to know you—he’s a private man, and he knows how to talk without actually saying much—but he finds that he doesn’t mind that. You’re quite a talented speaker, genuine and animated about every topic that comes to mind. Your little quirks and mannerisms only make you more attractive.

Once both your glasses are empty, and the two of you have drifted close enough to touch, he cups your chin in one hand and leans down to kiss you. He can feel you smile against his lips, and you pull away with a little giggle that makes his brows raise in curiosity.

“Your beard tickles,” you tell him, before sitting up a little more so you can kiss him again. It’s endlessly endearing, and he can’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, his cock chubbing up in his jeans. He’s eager to find out if his beard will tickle your cunt, too.

Not too long later, he gets his answer—a resounding yes—as well as discovers a new addiction. You taste like heaven, like well aged whiskey, like his favorite brand of cigars, and he suddenly realizes he no longer wants to die in the field in some fiery blaze of glory.

He’d much rather you just smother him with your cunt.

Unfortunately, he has a duty to his country, so he reluctantly shifts you off of him so he can breathe. It’s for the best, really, because he’s about to come just from eating you out. You don’t give him a chance to rest, though, moving down his body and sinking down onto his hard cock. You both gasp at the same time—Price from the pleasure, and you from the stretch. Clearly, you hadn’t realized just how thick he was, and now you’re tearing up and pouting while sat on his cock. He shushes you sweetly, stroking your cheek and rubbing your clit, enamored by the adorable picture you make. Soon enough, the sting fades, and you start riding him like your life depends on it. He plays with your tits the whole time, sucking and licking your nipples, his hands on your hips guiding your movements.

When he comes, it’s pure ecstasy. He’s never felt this good before, not even with his ex-wife. He knows then that he wants to keep you—and he can only hope that his seed filling your sweet pussy takes root deep in your womb.

Silly you forgot to put a condom on him, and of course, he didn’t see any reason to remind you. You sigh when you realize, and mutter something about getting the morning after pill. His grip tightens on your hips for a second, but he forces himself to relax. It’s only eighty percent effective, he tells himself. There’s still a chance.

Ghost

You meet Ghost next. You see him at the bar, all broad shoulders, bulky muscles, and towering height. But what makes you throw caution to the wind is the mask. You sidle on up to him, give him your signature sweet smile when he looks you up and down, and don’t let it phase you when he just grunts in reply to your greeting. It takes longer than it usually would to get Ghost back to your apartment—most guys are raring to go once you give them the signal—but after a few gentle touches, one long winded ramble about a topic you’re passionate about, and a couple shots, he gets that familiar look of want in his dark eyes, and you know you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker.

You don’t expect him to be a gentleman, but he insists on making you come on his fingers before he even takes his clothes off. It’s actually really fucking hot, and you’re even more eager than usual to return the favor. You sink down to your knees to try and suck him off, but he effortlessly hoists you back up and tosses you onto the bed, slowly undoing his belt and pulling it off. You spread your legs wide for him and bite your lip, half hoping he’ll snap the belt against your cunt or bind your wrists with it. Instead, he tosses it aside, opens up his fly, rolls on the condom, and presses inside you. He’s fucking massive, and you grasp one of his hands in yours as you whimper and whine through the stretch. He goes slow, at least until you’re adjusted—and then he’s obeying your demands as you order him to give it to you harder, faster, more, more, more.

Ghost has to keep stopping to just grind into you, because the way your tits bounce as he rails you, the sounds you’re making, and the tight, hot, wet grip of your pussy is too fucking much. He’s never been one for hookups really, hasn’t fucked anyone in ages, but there was something about you. Pretty face, beautiful body, and clearly into him, even with the mask—it’s not something he experiences often. He’s struck with the sudden urge to pull off the mask and kiss your lips, swallow every gorgeous gasp and moan you let out—but he can’t, won’t, so instead he buries his face in your neck, panting harshly as he thrusts into you, hard and fast, just like you’re begging for.

When it’s over, and he’s filled the condom with a frankly concerning amount of come, he stays buried deep in your pussy, with you pinned beneath him, his face still tucked into your neck. He doesn’t want to move, and the fact that you seem content to let him stay like that only makes him want you more.

When you finally shift like you want to get up, he has to fight the overwhelming urge to just ignore you. Instead, he finally pulls out of you and sits up, letting his eyes rove every inch of you as he does up his trousers. That little smile you give him makes his heart stutter, and he's torn between fleeing and begging you to let him stay.

You make the decision for him, thanking him for a great fuck and asking him if he needs you to call him an Uber.

Pride stinging and chest aching, Ghost walks back to the barracks.

Soap

Soap’s a stray dog that just wants a forever home. A handsome, lonely, loveable, eager mutt. So when he’s pounding into you in the back seat of your car because he was too excited to wait till you got back to your place, moaning and grunting and whining like the puppy he is, the words just slip out.

“Want ye, want ye tae be mine, please bonnie, want ye all fer myself.”

You coo at him, finding how pussy drunk he is adorable, and thread your fingers through his mohawk to pull him in for a kiss. He groans into your mouth as he comes, humping you through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You giggle, pulling back to nibble at his stubbled jaw as he pants in your ear.

“So?” He asks, voice wrecked but hopeful, and you feel a little bad when you realize his words weren’t just dirty talk. “What aboot it, lamb? Will ye be mine?”

“My pussy that good?” You tease him, trying to let him down easily. You can tell he realizes, his eyes tightening just a little in disappointment before his expression smooths back over into the cocky one he’d charmed his way into your pants with.

“Best I’ve ever had,” he answers, and you can hear the truth of it in his voice, even as he winks at you, holding up a two fingered salute. “Scot’s honor.”

“Pretty sure it’s scout’s honor,” you correct him, but he just smirks and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “Scot’s honor is better. We’re a loyal bunch.”

And Christ, but he’d be a loyal dog to you, if only you’d keep him.

[buckyalpine]

High on meds Bucky who keeps howling about how you put bee bum juice in his tea.

"Bucky, it's just honey-

"BEE. BUM. JUICE"

You arched a brow at the prominent pout that stayed plastered on Bucky's face as he sat swaddled in a blanket on the couch with his arms crossed against his chest.

"You always like honey in your tea Buck, it's good for you, it'll help your sore throat-

"She's putting bee bum juice in my tea!" Bucky shrieked as Steve walked by, refusing to take a sip of what you'd made for him countless times before.

"Bee bum juice...?" Steve's face scrunched while his best friend huffed, still deeply offended at the tea spoon of sweetness you stirred into his drink.

"Honey. I put honey in his tea" You said in exasperation, "He's on antibiotics for a sore throat. Of all things to take him down, this-" You motined to the bundle of blankets containing 1 super soldier inside, "this is what does it"

"Here, let me try" Steve took the cup from you and sat beside Bucky, putting it on the table when Bucky shuffled away from him, wracking his brain over what he could eat or drink in his current state.

"Okay, how about some chicken soup-

"BOILED BIRD WATER"

"Buck, you love chicken soup, it's your fav-

"BOILED. BIRD. WATER"

"Fuck"

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

hiii! can i request a bucky fanfic that takes place in civil war? specifically, the scene where zemo activated the winter solider and he starts attacking the avengers. and the soldier notices reader but for some reason spares her. maybe the reader is also an avenger, and has an established relationship with bucky? thank youuuu, have a good day! <33

Sparing You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: Bucky spares you when he’s in Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of Angst, language, established relationship, boyfriend!Bucky/girlfriend!reader, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @timmytimberdrake 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

As you watched the camera footage of the room Bucky is in with Zemo, you could tell that something wasn’t right about Zemo. You didn’t need to be in the same room as him to know that.

“Something doesn’t seem right with that Zemo guy.” You say.

Steve nods as he continues to watch the footage. You stood up from your seat and walked over to Steve, standing next to him to get a better look at the screen. As you guys continued watching it, the power went out, confusing everyone. You, Steve, and Sam exchanged looks before making your way to where Bucky is. Bucky wasn’t in the metal pod or anywhere in the room when you guys got in there. Zemo wasn’t on the floor. Steve grabbed him by his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“What the hell did you do to him?” You asked Zemo.

“You’ll find out in a moment, Miss. Y/L/N.” Zemo says, smirking evilly.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

How the hell does he know your name?

That’s when Bucky came out of nowhere and started attacking Steve and Sam. He threw Sam against the pod and shoved Steve against the elevator doors hard enough to make him fall through them. Your eyes went wide. That was enough to tell you that Bucky is in Winter Soldier mode. Bucky turned around, accidentally bumping into you. You stumbled backwards, but didn’t fall. You stared up at him, waiting for him to attack you, but he didn’t. He just stared down at you for a few seconds before walking away. Now, you’re confused.

Why didn’t he attack you like he did to Steve and Sam just seconds ago?

You followed him through the building, making sure he didn’t notice you. You hid along the wall that led to a seating area with some tables. You poked your head out to see Bucky attacking the rest of the Avengers.

“Is Barnes in there?” Tony asks from behind you.

“Yes.” You replied.

Tony got his blaster ready and aimed it at Bucky, blasting him. Your eyes went wide when he did that. You watched Bucky approach Tony with a gun.

“Uh oh.” You mumbled to yourself.

You felt like you should do something. You ran out to the seating area before Bucky could shoot Tony. You managed to get the gun out of Bucky’s strong grip. You unloaded the bullets from it and threw it as far as you could. Bucky just stared at you. You gulped, thinking he was going to attack you this time, but he didn’t. He gently moved you to the side before attacking Tony.

“Why didn’t Barnes attack you?” T’Challa asks.

“I-I don’t know.” You replied.

You didn’t let Bucky out of your sight even when after he went after T’Challa. You followed him, keeping your distance. Following him led both of you to the roof of the building. You watched Bucky get on the helicopter and started it. Steve opened the door, entering the roof. You watched Steve run towards the helicopter and grabbed onto it so Bucky couldn’t fly away. He used all of his strength to pull it down. He wanted to stop his best friend before things got worse.

———

Steve managed to get Bucky to an abandoned factory. Bucky was unconscious at the moment. You stared at Bucky while biting your nails as you thought to yourself. You were curious to know why Bucky didn’t attack you when he was in Winter Soldier mode. That’s when it hit you. You and Bucky met during your trip to Romania last Summer. You and him hung out and got to know each other. You two made it official before leaving to go back home. You guys kept yours and his relationship a secret. You hate that you kept this from your friends, especially Steve.

“Y/N, are you ok? Did he hurt?” Steve asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm? Yea, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.” You say.

Steve stared at you, studying your body language. He could tell that you were keeping something from him and he’s going to find out what it is.

“Cap, he’s waking up.” Sam says.

You, Steve, and Sam enter the area Bucky is in. Bucky groans as he wakes up. He furrows his eyebrows when he notices that his metal arm is wedged in some kind of machine.

“Steve…” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks.

“Your mom’s name is Sarah and you used to wear newspaper in your shoes.” Bucky says.

“Can’t read that in a museum.” Steve says.

“And now, we’re supposed to be cool?” Sam says.

“What did I do?” Bucky asks, looking at Sam.

“Nothing.” You say softly.

Bucky turns his attention to you, smiling when he seen you. Steve looks from Bucky to you, sensing something between the two of you.

“What’s going on between you two?” Steve asks you and Bucky.

You looked at Bucky. He nodded, letting you know it’s ok to tell Steve about yours and his relationship.

“Remember when I went on a trip to Europe last Summer?” You asked.

Steve and Sam nodded.

“Well, I went to Romania for the remainder of my trip and I met Bucky when I was there. Him and I hung out and got to know each other. We made our relationship official before I came home. Him and I kept it a secret.” You explained.

“How long have you two been together?” Steve asks.

“Almost a year.” You tell him.

“A year?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Steve says.

“Don’t get mad at her. I’m the one who said to keep our relationship a secret.” Bucky says.

Steve sighs and puts his hands on his hips, trying to process the fact that you kept your relationship with Bucky a secret for almost a year.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam ask Bucky.

Bucky looks at Sam and nods.

“Why didn’t you attack Y/N when you were in Winter Soldier mode?” He asks curiously.

“I wanted to spare her. Even though all of the programming, I still somehow knew who she is.” Bucky says.

You smiled and walked over to Bucky, giving him a hug.

“I would’ve forgiven you even if you did attack me.” You say softly, gazing in his blue eyes.

Bucky stared in your eyes. He loves how loving you are. He also loves how you can see past his mistakes he made over the years. That’s his favorite things about you. Bucky’s right hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin. He kisses you softly and sweetly. As Steve looks at the two of you and watches the cute moment unfold in front of him, he then realizes that Bucky most likely asked you to keep yours and his relationship a secret to protect you so nothing bad happened to you.

“You guys kept your relationship a secret to protect her, didn’t you?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” Bucky answers softly.

“I didn’t mean to get mad at you guys. It would’ve been nice to know. Just don’t keep anymore secrets from us, ok?” Steve says.

You and Bucky nodded. Now, that you guys talked everything out and got it out of the way, you guys can move forward on the plan.

“I know a guy.” Sam says.

Steve nods, letting Sam know to call him.

“I’ll protect you.” You say softly to Bucky.

“You’re so sweet, doll.” Bucky smiles. “I love you.” He almost whispers, kissing your lips softly.

“I love you too, sweetie.” You whispered back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[mrsparrasblog]

COD porn links part 2

You liked my porn links so I thought I'd search again

A/N: for these of you who Klick on it and say you're traumatised or complain it's porn, if it traumatisez you don't Klick on it lol

Johnny

It's okay by military law as long as I don't put it in , bonnie

Johnny has a foot fetish

Just Johnny being Johnny

John Price

He loves to make his wife wet

Your Captain isn't a soft lover

Price after you flirted with a recruite

Dryhumping Price

Kyle

Kyle loves you and your cunt

Romantic kyle

Tinder date with officer Kyle

Ghost

Virgin Simon

How your lieutenant likes to see you

That's 1000000% Simon Riley

Teaching his favourite rookie a lesson

König

Kortac is fine with frateenization

Königs big hand fingers you

König with his barracks bunny

Loser König

Extras:

That's so threesome with Johnny and Simon coded

[lologoinsolo]

Haunted House Masterlist

A fun little idea that’s very quickly written. Apologies for mistakes, I should be sleeping but brain wouldn’t allow.

Your alarm is blaring. It’s loud and obnoxious and screams for you to wake. You don’t want to but you have to “seize the day” as one would say. You turn to your side and hit snooze though, shutting it up and deciding that five more minutes won’t hurt. You had such a wonderful dream that you want to get back to it. It was about you being rich and never having to work another day in your life.

“Yer gonna be late again for work, lass.”

Your eyes pop open as you scream, balling your fist and punching the man that lays down on your bed. Your fist phases right on through though and he laughs so loudly that you wished you could actually hit him.

“Ah, ouch, lass. That hurt.” He feigns pain, rubbing his face and he grins like the Cheshire Cat itself.

“Johnny,” you rub your temples. Your want for sleeping in is fleeting, “how many times do I have to tell you. The beds off limits.” Glaring at your ghostly companion.

“Ye said, Johnny, make sure I stay awake even when my alarm goes off,” he mimics your voice horribly, really laying on an abnormally high pitch to make you wish you couldn’t hear. He places a hand against his cheek and the other comes around to tap your forehead. You shiver when you can feel the cool sensation, you’ve never gotten used to that. “S’not my fault ye keep sleepin’ in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” flinching when your alarm goes off once more. You groan even louder than before as you turn the alarm off. You sit and rub your face till it hurts. “Alright,” you feel his hand pressing and nudging on your back. You swipe at him like a hissing cat and tumble off your welcoming, warm bed. He laughs and lays still as you move around sluggishly. You walk out of your room even when you can hear your bed weeping for you and head to your kitchen.

Grabbing a tea bag, a mug, and pouring water from the sink in it before placing it in the microwave. Pressing the buttons and you watch the light flicker on the mug spinning slowly. There’s a growing heavy weight against your back, it press well against your shoulder and even when you try to shove him away. He doesn’t budge, a mountain of cold, hard steel that doesn’t move even when you say his name. “Simon,” you whine, trying to push him away but alas, your hands phase through him just like it did with Johnny.

“You need a kettle,” he says with so much disappointment in his brown eyes. There’s an atrocity happening before him, actually it’s happened many times. You’ve flat out refused to even boil the water on at least a pot. “I feel like I’m dying again just watching this.” He leans ever more and you’re damn near fused to your counter.

“Okay, okay,” the microwave beeps and you open it to grab your mug. Wincing and trying to hold the hot ceramic handle without it peeling your skin off. “I’ll buy a kettle this time around.” You say as you have many times over, “can you move? Please?” You hear him sigh like he’s suffering and he leaves. Disappears off into the nether and probably won’t come back until you pour him a glass of his favorite whiskey as an apology. “Fucking Brit’s.” Grumbling your annoyance as you dump your sugar and stir it in the cooling liquid. Not even bothering to blow as you drink it. You don’t really get the difference but somehow it’s always an offense when Simon sees you do that.

“He’s right,” John sits on your recliner. A cigar in hand and even though he’s as ghostly as the others he manages to find a way to smoke in your house. “That’s no way to drink a tea.” Of course he’d jump in on this, though you think he might only do that just to get a rise out of you.

“Buy me a kettle and make me a tea.” Holding the mug against your face. Drinking it defiantly and Kyle comes through a wall as quickly as you say that.

“You banned us from making drinks or food.” Holding a finger out as he nods in making his point. John grunts in agreement, smoke somehow puffing around in swirls.

“For good reason, Kyle.” The last time they tried to do anything it was a mess. And not in the incompetent way but more in the paranormal why is everything floating kinda way. “There was tomato sauce splattered on my ceiling! The ceiling,” placing your mug down on the counter. “I had to get a ladder to clean it.”

“Didnae ken that would happen when I touched the damn thing.” You hear Johnny somewhere in the room but have yet to spot him. Probably hovering in a dark spot as usual when he plans on scaring you by grabbing you. He seems miffed about the incident since he’s the main reason why they’re all banned. “Ye were sick at the time. We just wanted to help.”

That makes you feel a little guilty. Your ghosts do try to help around as much as they can but sometimes their paranormalness doesn’t always work well in your house nor around objects. So far they’ve been able to touch you with no problem but with other things though… somtimes they will float or get weird with the temperature, your hairbrush has been freezing cold here lately… one of them probably snooped around your bathroom again. You’ve gotten as used to your roommates as best as you can. Your ability allows you to see and hear hem as clear as day while others can’t. It’s a blessing and a curse with your wonderful little ability despite the learning curve.

The curve being that there’s ghosts in your house.

“Ah, shit,” Kyle pulls you from your thoughts. “You need to hurry, you’re gonna be running late again.” Kyle, ever the one to keep you on your goals quickly points that out as he looks at the time.

“Oh, son of a bitch!” You fly down the hall back to your room to get dressed. Forgoing buying breakfast on the way even when John yells for you to do so. You hobble to get your shoes on and nearly roll out your door to get to your car. Not even bothering to lock your house since your ghostly apparitions won’t allow an intruder to do harm. You slam your foot on the gas after reversing and drive off to your job. Blasting music down the road to get your mood right for the next eight hours.

[girl-lostconnection]

The thoughts are chasing me for the last few weeks or so, so now I’m gonna share them with you.

TaskForce 141 x Helldiver!Reader

141 who are getting higher clearance to find out about the whole entirely separate military branch that operate on intergalactic fucking levels.

And then they meet the Reader — always in armour, primary weapon slinged over their shoulder, heavy boots thudding on the metal of their ship as they jog from armoury to main panel, punching in coordinates.

141 don’t think they ever saw someone work this quickly with missions that never last more than 45 minutes at most, jogging through harsh terrain to work through every mission objective.

But still it seems doable. It doesn’t seem like anything too harsh they’ve seen on Earth. Not so different really. They don’t get why the soldiers of this branch are called “helldivers”.

Reader hums, voice getting distorted due to helmet they seem to be always in. Always ready for battle.

“Cause we dive feet first into hell”, they chuckle, rolling their shoulders before locking themselves down into the pod.

141 watching with growing worry the way the pod gets fucking launched down the orbit like a bloody missile. It’s a miracle the person inside even gets out upon collision. It’s a miracle they are in any state to fight.

But there is something wrong with the whole branch. Soldiers too young, heads too hot, missions too risky and weapons that are never provided. Most of ammunition helldivers buying themselves. Spending their own money to improve the state of the ship and their own weapons.

It’s not until 141 find out the horrifying statistic that colour drains from their faces, fingers cold and static-y.

Average lifespan of Helldivers in the field is less than half a minute.

Average age is 18 to 22 years old.

Continuation

[meshla-cyarika]

Instantly thought this during this scene 💀

[httpsserene]

𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 “𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤”𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: crack. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. uh this is completely unrealistic, it’s pure vibes okay. this is not an accurate representation of those mentioned. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau.

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i wouldn’t consider myself an oscar girlie but then,,, i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar from when he went karting and um…now have another op 81 mess of a smau! this is completely unserious and it’s inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips ‘s reblog lol. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.

insp. 1 | insp. 2 | taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents ↻

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th

view replies

oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐 yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)

lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/

landonorris: he’s such a simp landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱 yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend

logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others

yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)

➥ user thx for sharing the photo

➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON

yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)

➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq

➥ user wait for me!

➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy

yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)

➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl

➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??

user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤

user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!

➥ user u were flirting with death babes

➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post

➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾

yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)

➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE

➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n

➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan

➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri

➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH

yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)

➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public

➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE

➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user

➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig

➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x

➥ oscarpiastri what she said^

➥ landonorris :o -> :(

yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)

➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭

➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable

➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded

➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol

➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much

➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏

➥ user and she’s back on her bs

yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)

➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?

➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial

oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others

oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.

view comments

danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹

➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess

➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric

➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late

➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt

user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT

➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡

➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors

➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt

user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE

logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr

➥ user LOL

➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous

➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!

➥ user 💀

➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO

➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂

➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny

➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something

➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user

➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff

© httpsserene2023

[cheeseatlantic]

THE WAY HE SEES YOU

You didn’t mean to snoop. Honestly.

You were just looking for batteries. The TV remote had died (again), and Johnny had insisted—insisted—they were in the desk drawer. “The one by the printer, love,” he’d said, like you were foolish for not knowing which drawer he meant.

Except when you opened the bottom one, there were no batteries.

Just a thick, black sketchbook. Worn at the corners. Sturdy. And your name—your full name—written in his handwriting across the cover.

You stared at it for a moment. That familiar blocky scrawl, written with the sort of precision he reserved for mission logs or weapon maintenance checklists. Just your name. Nothing else. No title. No explanation.

And despite yourself… you opened it.

The first page hit you like a punch to the chest.

A sketch of you curled up on the couch, mug in hand, socks mismatched, hair all over the place. The detail was insane. The curve of your cheek, the way your fingers held the mug, the slight furrow of your brow like you were lost in thought. It was you—undeniably you—but drawn with such softness that it made your throat tighten.

You flipped the page.

Another drawing. You in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, concentrating on chopping vegetables like it was a matter of national security. The way your tongue poked out slightly when you focused. You didn’t even know you did that.

Another. You asleep on his chest, hair tangled, drool on your cheek. He’d even added a little note beside that one:

Still cute. Even when snorin’ like a bear.

And then more:

You brushing your teeth. You halfway through a laugh. You in his hoodie. You staring out the window. You frowning at the laundry. You tying your shoe. You existing.

Little notes scattered through the pages, written in the margins:

Didn’t know they had that wee freckle behind their ear.

Caught ‘em singin’ to the dog this mornin’. Sounded awful. Looked adorable.

Smile slipped today. Somethin’s botherin’ them. Gotta ask.

They look at me like I’m worth somethin’. I dunno what to do with that.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until a tear dropped onto the paper.

Then—

“Oi.”

You jumped like you’d been shot.

Johnny stood in the doorway, towel slung over his shoulder, hair damp, shirtless. His eyes flicked from your face to the sketchbook in your lap.

You scrambled to close it. “I—I didn’t mean to—“

He walked over before you could finish, settling beside you on the couch. He didn’t look angry. Just… embarrassed. His ears were red.

“Was lookin’ fer batteries, aye?” he said, voice softer than usual. “Should’ve kent better than leavin’ that drawer unlocked.”

You hugged the book to your chest. “Johnny… these are incredible.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling, “They’re just sketches, hen. Nothin’ fancy.”

You opened it again and showed him a random page—one where he’d drawn you laughing so hard you were doubled over, holding your stomach. You remembered that day. He’d told some ridiculous story in a terrible American accent, and you couldn’t breathe from how hard you’d been laughing.

“You think this is nothing fancy?” you said quietly.

He shrugged, eyes on the book. “Just wanted tae remember ye. The wee things. How ye look when yer no’ puttin’ on a face fer the world. Y’know—when it’s just me watchin’.”

Your heart clenched. “So you drew me?”

He gave a small nod. “Drawin’s the only way I know tae keep things. Photos are too loud. But sketchin’… it feels like holdin’ onto somethin’ quiet.”

You stared at him for a moment. “You drew me like I’m beautiful.”

He glanced sideways at you, then gave a soft snort. “That’s ‘cause ye are, dafty.”

You swatted him gently, laughing through your tears. “You could’ve told me you were doing this.”

“Ach, where’s the fun in that?” he said with a grin. “Besides… if I told ye, ye’d start posin’. And I like ye better when ye dinnae know I’m lookin’.”

You blinked, caught off-guard by how easily he said it.

He flipped to the last page in the book. It was blank, but he drew a tiny heart in the corner with his fingertip. “Think I’ll keep goin’. Keep drawin’ ye. One day I’ll have a hundred books like this.”

You leaned into him, head on his shoulder. “And what if I go grey? Or get wrinkly?”

“Then I’ll draw that, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Every bloody line, love. Ye age, I draw. Deal?”

You turned to face him, eyes misty. “Deal.”

Later that night, while you brushed your teeth, you caught him watching you from the doorway with a little smirk and a pencil tucked behind his ear.

“Don’t even think about it,” you mumbled, mouth full of foam.

He laughed. “Too late. Already halfway through sketchin’ yer grumpy wee face.”

[luxcuriousao3]

Gaz who did modeling when he was younger (he got scouted because like. Have you seen him?). The 141 is on a mission, and they're waiting out a storm in a safe house. There's a couple of old magazines lying around, and Soap starts paging through them to stave off the boredom. Imagine his surprise when he sees his best mate's face grinning back at him from the faded, glossy pages.