#masters of the air smut

[austinbutlerslovers]

Bucked & Fxcked

Label Mature 18+

Finding out there is a military deployment party at the live music hall across from your college immediately entices you and your room mate. Bored with college boys you each excitedly plan to snag and shag a handsome soldier for the night, but when you lay eyes on two of the most handsome and suave majors you have ever seen in your life you can’t decide which one you want more. They both tease and seduce you in ways that get you so hot between the legs you flirtatiously admit you wish you could have both.

Upon hearing your words and realizing they won't get an opportunity like this with such a beautiful dame again they come to an agreement, they'll share you. They bring you back to their base in one of the Majors offices locking the door and double tapping you with pleasure the entire night.

No established relationship

Groping•objectification•degradation •fingering• biting• gspot fem •nippleplay •clitplay•restraint •threesome•oral sex m/f• P in V •sex on a desk• oral sex f/m• multiple orgasms •simultaneous orgasms•squirting • bukkake (2 males ejaculate on female )• cum eating• after care

Inspo: needing to be Fxcked by both Bucks 🥵

~*Bucked & Fxcked*~

You and your room mate get dressed in form fitting low cut tops and A-line skirts putting on lip stick and heavy mascara before leaving the dorms at 7:30 in the evening.

You are taking the half mile walk together with dozens of other girls from the college campus to have some fun at the live music dance hall.

All the girls are in their prettiest dresses giggling excitedly walking arm in arm gossiping because a platoon of soldiers will be there for a special military event dancing the night away before they deploy.

You and your room mate have already had quite the sexual experiences sneaking college boys into your dorm room after midnight for quick romps going through the roster never feeling completely satisfied.

You were both very excited to try something daring and new.

As you approach the establishment you hear the swing music getting louder. People surround the well lit dance hall talking, laughing, some coupled up already kissing. You see cars parked in the distance with couples inside making out.

You nudge your room mate pointing it out to her and she smiles mischievously, you both thinking the same thing, it's the pure debauchery you are expecting. The double doors to the dance hall swing open as a couple walks out arm in arm the music is blaring and there is a surge of excitement in the air as you enter.

The space is enormous red white and blue fan fare hanging everywhere. American flags stars and stripes draped colorfully on full display every where you look.

The dance hall is so loud, the brass band is deafening as you look to the players on stage. The floor is packed with a sea of men in green and brown uniforms holding colorfully dressed young ladies giggling, swirling, dipping, twirling, its orchestrated chaos. They nearly miss colliding with each other doing dangerous and provocative dance moves dizzy with excitement and booze.

You are so excited in this environment until your friend is immediately swept away by a handsome soldier who smiles at her twirls her and pulls her onto the dance floor with him. You smile at each other as she giddily waves farewell.

You head to the bar feeling your mood dip without her, she got swept up so quickly, you want to see if you can bump into anyone else you know from campus as you make your way through a crowd of dancers near the blaring trumpets being played on stage.

You are stopped in your tracks by a pair of dancers almost knocking into you, just as they clear your path, your eyes lock onto two of the most dreamily handsome Majors you've ever seen in your life.

They are standing with their elbows rested on the high tables in the drinking area near the bar. They are overlooking all the actions of the lower ranks.

Your gaze must have lingered a little too long because they both look over at you and make eye contact smiling so gorgeously you are shocked and wave politely.

One is a tall blonde with a gorgeous face, plump lips, strong jaw, perfect nose, and big blue eyes. The other is a towering brunette with a handsome face, broad nose, full lips, angular chin, and flirty blue eyes.

Your heart begins pouding as they wave back. The brunette making the signal he wants to meet you at the same time the blonde points to you to gesturing hes coming over. You laugh to yourself in shock as they both head your direction.

It's probably the sexiest thing to have two handsome men walk across a room and approach you. They are taller than you expected, you look up to them when they are standing directly in-front of you. They both smile at you making you blush, they are so clean cut and neat, they smell amazing.

When they try to speak to you over the music they begin laughing unable to get their words across you are all too close to the stage and can't hear a thing with the saxophone blaring. Finally the blonde leans into your ear "Come to a table it's quieter" he says holding your gaze nodding and gesturing you to come, you nod smiling and follow them.

They pick a table at the back corner farthest from the stage in a more secluded area.

Once you all settle down the music is at a manageable level and you can finally hear each other speak. "Hi!" you say cheerfully just happy to look at their handsome faces up close.

They each take a turn shaking your hand " I'm Gale" says the blonde "Im John" says the brunette, their eyes full of attraction as they stare at you.

"The boys call me Buck and him Bucky not to confuse you, the nick names are a long story" Gale says and looks at John to confirm but hes too busy giving you the dreamy eyes. Gale smacks him lightly on the chest for staring at you like that.

John snaps out of being mesmerized by your beauty and flashes you his normal pretty smile his flirty eyes still making you blush, heat creeping up your neck as you smile back politely.

Gale just shoots John a knowing look, it's the night before deployment so there is only one thing on all the men's minds at the dance hall, securing a girl for the night and now he and John are both set on the same one, you.

"Can we get you anything to eat or drink?" Gale asks politely as John rubs his fingers across his lips and chin admiring you. "Oh no l'm fine I'm actually a student at the college so they feed us supper every night, and seeing its Friday my friend said all the military were having a deployment party here so we wanted to get out and have some fun." You smile innocently and look away hiding your lustier intentions.

John rests his elbow on the table covering his mouth he turns away from you hiding his smile thinking you are so naive coming to a bar full of sexually deprived soldiers for fun looking this good.

"Well where is your friend?" Gale asks perking up thinking maybe he can introduce John to her and secure you for himself because you are clearly the most stunning girl they've both ever seen and he doesn't want to compete with John the entire night.

You scan across the dance floor and spot her just as the solider from earlier is holding her with both hands twirling her around panties flashing as he dips her.

"There she is, and wow that soldier is a really good dancer!" you say excitedly.

Gale and John shoot looks at each other knowing shes dancing with the number one play boy on the base before John blurts out "Yea she's not coming back to the dorm tonight!" and they both burst into laughter.

Your face flushes a little hot from them making fun but you remain calm and you show some assertiveness

"Well that's the plan gentlemen we don't want to go back to our dorm tonight" you retort and they both fall slack jawed.

"You don't say" Gale says in amusement, his eyes flashing attraction now as he looks at you. "What are they teaching you young ladies in college these days now anyway?" He asks intrigued, his voice turns sultry.

You feel the heat rising in your core as he locks in on your sexual deviancy wanting to know more. You look away hiding your sudden shyness as you answer "All sorts of things" your voice softer feeling you've just admitted to all the sex you've been having. "Is that so?" he says leaning closer staring at you so intently you return your eyes back to his. John clears his throat to interrupt the sexual tension and blocks Gales advances by speaking up.

"Well if you're not going back to your dorm, and you are planning to leave here with one of these fine gentlemen." He says extending his arms to show just how many you have to chose from in the dance hall before continuing "Which one are you choosing to leave with?" He asks with intent, his eyes full of all his hidden thoughts about you as he smiles.

When you smile back at John and then Gale, your face flushes as you feel the heat creep up your neck again.

You bite your lower lip trying to regain composure.

He and Gale flash each other looks, they've been serving in the military together long enough to be synchronized communicating with just a glance or a gesture. They have both decided it is now a competition. They sit back looking debonaire and cool awaiting your answer of who is the victor.

"If I had to chose one?" You say scrunching your nose cutely uncertain of which one you want more. You feel the arousal pooling between your legs as they both stare at you so seductively.

You decide to play with them "I wish I could have you both" you admit flirtatiously. Their faces look shocked making you giggle. "Both? " Gale says stunned. John looks around in disbelief holding back his laugh that you couldn't decide. "Yea just for one night" you say nonchalantly actually really liking the idea now seeing how competitive they are, all the attention would be on you.

Gale and John look at each other as they realize you are serious. Then it sets in that you really aren't going to choose and that they'll never have an opportunity like this with a beautiful dame like you again. "Would you excuse us just one moment." Gale says his face flushing red as he tries to act unfazed. You bashfully nod secretly wondering if they'll both agree to take you at the same time tonight, you squeeze your thighs together wet at the thought.

They stand and walk only a few steps away turning their backs to you lowering their voices "I think she's serious." Gale says with a stunned expression on his face making John start chuckling.

"Shes definitely serious and I kind of want to do it just to see the surprised look on her face when she realizes what she's asking for." John says smiling mischievously. "Getting fucked by the Bucks?" Gale says making them burst into laughter.

Gale comes to his senses and gets more serious

"Alright the ground rules then; if it get awkward we stop, if she starts screaming for her life we definitely stop, I get one side you get the other, and I think it could work." John smiles and agrees to the plan going insane with the fact you've already astounded both of them.

Gale peeks over his shoulder and sees you sweetly smile and wave flirtatiously at him, you like how they are being so shy and cute now.

"Yea look at her John she gets finer by the second, let's go get her." They break their huddle and return. Gale extends his hand to you and as you take it he wraps his arm around yours John extends his arm to your other side and you wrap your arm around his too. You try to contain your giddiness and excitement as the three of you leave together.

You exit the loud dance hall into the quiet night arm in arm with two handsome strangers. You are laughing inside of your head how crazy the idea is and how it's coming in to fruition.

You approach the military car and Gale gets his keys as John gets your door. You sit in the back seat and John gets in to sit next to but Gale pulls him back by the collar of his military jacket. "In the front" Gale snaps sternly with a look of 'don't touch her yet'. John laughs he really wanted to sit and talk and get to know you more, but Gale can’t have that.

During the short drive to the base Gale keeps peeking in the rear view mirror at you. "If you need anything let me know" he says actually feeling anxious that you left the dance hall with them rethinking the whole thing.

John on the other hand is fully invested "So what's the real reason you have to have both of us? What are you expecting us to do once we get here?" he asks peering back at you over his shoulder.

"Just have a little fun" you reply casually. You've already had so many trysts you assume if one can't satisfy you the other one could. "Is anything off limits or is it a free for all" he grins cheekily elbowing Gale who's focusing so hard on the easy drive that John knows he's too worked up in his head over this.

"It's just sex" you roll your eyes gently. For you it's a basic missionary hump for 2 minutes like all of your encounters they would definitely be top 10 for most handsome though.

"It's... just... sex" John repeats your words deliberately getting Gales attention shielding his lips discreetly mouthing ("I don't think she's had good sex") Gale tries and fails to hold back a quick laugh, finally breaking his nervousness. He realizes you think one will take you and then the other, having no idea of all the sexual things he and John are going to make you experience tonight.

You look out the window and see the entrance to the military base, its gigantic so many barracks and buildings it's practically its own town surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Gale slows the car down and shows his ID to the guard who salutes him and lifts the road block.

They drive in through the rows of buildings until they reach an office structure Gale hops out and comes to get your door. The base is unusually quiet all the men still at the dancehall partying the night away.

John gets his keys out first and unlocks the front entrance to the building the three of you walk inside through the lobby to an office door. You read the name plate 'Major Gale Cleven' as he unlocks and opens it.

Once you enter Gale clicks on the lights and John locks the door bolt behind you. They immediately begin to toy with you letting you know you are their plaything to be shared.

Gale steps in and kisses you as he gropes you all over your dress around your derrière and up your chest squeezing your breasts in both his hands.

John watches getting hard and jealous seeing Gale get to touch all over your body. Gale gives him a show that you'll let them do anything to you and firmly squeezes his hand around your derrière before pulling your dress up over your waist holding it there to show John your panties.

Gale breaks from the kiss with you "Come take her panties off and finger her” he says. You are so aroused loving how they speak to each other taking charge over you. Gale begins kissing you again holding your dress pinned up in the back for John.

When John kneels down behind you, his fingertips touch up your soft thighs reaching to your hips and hooking his thumbs in your panties sliding them down.

He looks at your perfect derrière and kisses across your exposed cheeks in worship. They’ve already done more than you've ever experienced your panties cling to your wetness as he pulls them lower. "Gale shes fully soaked" he says pulling your panties all the way down. Your pussy is glistening in his face, he trails his finger through your folds collecting your arousal gently rubbing your tight entrance making you clench around nothing.

He takes two fingers spreading you open like a book massaging your inner folds inches from his face getting drunk with arousal on the sight of your pussy. He slowly inserts his two long fingers inside of you making you moan into Gales mouth breaking his kiss "How does she look?" Gale asks through ragged breaths his cock already solid.

John whistles "It's one of the most pretty pussies I've ever seen" he says sliding his large fingers in and out of you amping up your arousal tilting his fingers to reach toward your navel and curling them back down making you moan loudly into Gales face.

Gale pulls your top halfway down exposing your breasts and rubs them gently in his hands. He trails soft kisses up your neck then pinches your nipples so hard it makes you bite your lower lip stifling your moan in your throat as you clench on John's fingers.

"I know I know" Gale coos at you "We're giving you things you never even knew you needed" you nod feverishly you love it your core pulsing as you feel your climax start. You are getting so wet with arousal it begins leaking out of you down John's hand as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Gale she's going to cum she's already dripping down my hand how should we take her?" When John says it, your face flushes and your knees buckle from pleasure.

"Make her cum on your fingers, I want to make her cum again on my tongue " Gales looking in your eyes as it registers what he said you moan from his dirty words. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, it makes them smile they are turning you out in so many ways.

John cups his large hand holding your bottom cheek kneading it as he plants kisses then gently bites into it.

When you feel the pinch of his teeth in your flesh it makes you clench so hard inside that he knows your about to orgasm. He begins pummeling his fingers into you so feverishly it makes your body shake as you feel the force of his knuckles wetly smacking against you.

Gales looking you in the eyes but you aren't able to focus back anymore just moaning lost in the pleasure of John's fingers about to make you cum. Your brows already knitted with your mouth panting and deeply moaning, your core clenching. "You like it when he fingers you?" He asks a little jealous.

"Yes Yes YES YES YES!" You repeatedly yell in his face triggering Gales jealousy. He reaches his hand between your legs finding your clit and rubbing it in time with John's finger-fuck. It makes you have an earth shattering orgasm instantaneously between both men.

" OH GOD OH G.." Gale cups his large hand over your mouth muffling your repeated moans and continues his assault on your clit making you cum so hard. It was so easy for them to make you orgasm he knows he can get one more. "John keep fingering her I want to make her cum again" he says it looking you in your blissed out eyes. You already feel the tightness building inside of you ready to be released again when he says it.

John turns his fingers inside of you from curving up to facing downward. He slides them up toward your navel this time hooking a squishy spot inside. Your body jolts when he finds it making you shiver and see stars. He pulls his fingers over it in a 'come here' motion pushing his fingers deeply in and out of your soaking entrance until your thighs are trembling and you are almost crying moaning into Gales hand.

He rubs his other two fingers over your wetness into your clit strumming it until your body tenses and you can't catch your breath. Tears rim your eyes as Gale removes his hand from your mouth seeing you so blissed you are unable to even breathe .

Your body gives in and your core snaps giving you such a powerful release from the orgasm that you feel like you are on cloud 9. John is still slowly hooking that special place inside until your shoulders shudder and you come down collapsing against Gales chest. He shushes you petting your hair as you breathe rapidly onto his neck the orgasm draining your energy entirely.

John slides his fingers out of you and sucks them clean licking his lips enjoying the sweet taste of you. He stands up his thick cock erect and strained in his pants as he begins to undress.

“Your doing so good for us” Gale coos and begins to make out with you cradling your head in his hands probing his tongue in your mouth. His cock is so hard he brings your hand down to touch him and you gasp in his mouth realizing both of these 6ft tall men are going to be so big between the legs it makes you whimper.

Once John is fully naked Gale passes you to him

"Hold her for me" Gale says as he gets undressed.

John holds you at your waist trailing his hands up your pulled down top to your exposed breasts. He softly circles his thumbs on your nipples.

You look at his wide chiseled chest, placing your hands there looking down farther and audibly gasp seeing the size of his length as he presses it against you without taking a step. His girthy cock a dark pink color just beneath his abs between his thick thighs. John smirks at you seeing the reaction he’s been waiting for.

"Turn her around " Gale says after he heard you gasp from Johns size. John turns you to face away from him holding your upper arms firmly.

You watch Gale finish undressing down to his boxer shorts, he slides them off revealing his long thick cock with a big round tip that makes your knees go weak.

"Hold her tight" Gale tells John and he grips your arms so you can't move.

Gale approaches you and continues pulling your top all the way down cupping your breasts in his hands. He leans in and slides his tongue out licking circles around your nipple until you start to moan then he licks the other. He switches back to the first nipple and slowly sucks it in his mouth twirling his tongue around the bud until you begin to squirm rubbing your knees together then he pinches the other one hard making you moan.

He alternates between each breast with either love or torture until your core begins pulsing from all his flicks and licks and pinches. You begin moaning deeper and rubbing your thighs together for sexual relief, you are absolutely soaked. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop the sensation hitting right to your core as your knees buckle and John keeps you standing

Gale reaches behind your waist unzipping your skirt letting all your clothing fall to the floor. You stand between the two men all three of you completely naked.

Gale looks you over head to toe nodding in approval stopping to stare between your legs, your thighs trembling drenched with your own arousal. "John you are right this is one of the prettiest pussies l've ever seen" He says smiling as he slides his hand between your legs cupping your folds. He forces you back into John's hard cock, the tip firmly pushes through the back of your thighs rubbing against your wet heat . You let out a high pitched shaky moan and shudder having hit your peak of pleasure.

The sound makes both of their cocks twitch at the tip.

"Put her on the desk" Gale says as John picks you up, his giant arms setting you back down on the desk and spreading your legs apart with his hands holding your upper thighs. John is so greedy for you and begins passionately kissing you lining himself up to push himself inside of you.

Gale snaps at him "Lay her flat on the desk and hold her down she needs more" Gales unspoken rule is he gets you first. John goes around the desk as Gale takes his place standing between your legs caressing your upper thighs. John helps you lay flat on your back and holds your hands above your head pinning them against the wood holding you by your wrists. You look down to Gale poised between your legs and then look up to John pinning your hands above your head to the desk. You are completely at their mercy.

"It's just sex huh?" Gale asks repeating your words from earlier to show off his prowess. He kneels down between your legs spreading your thighs wider until your knees are against his desk, he parts your pussy lips open and latches his mouth on your wet folds sucking and slurping them with the tip of his tongue and the suction of his mouth you completely give into him loving it so much.

He flicks your clit so hard with his tongue your back arcs from the table. You moan loudly as your hips jump up almost unable to withstand what he's doing. You look up and see John's eyes staring darkly at you loving seeing how aroused you are getting and wanting to give you more.

He pins your wrists with just one large hand taking the other to squeeze one breast at a time caressing your nipples with his flat palm then pinching them repeatedly until you begin writhing and moaning on the desk due to the sensations from both men.

You are panting and moaning loudly feeling so tight in your core as John pinches your nipples and Gale thrusts his tongue deep inside your pussy. Your moaning intensifies into a stronger tantric rhythm of “YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES YES "as you are lifting your hips into Gales mouth. Your wetness slipping all over his lower face.

He stops to wipe his mouth and pins your hips firmly to the table with his hands so you can't move. "John she's noisy when she's about to cum make her be quiet" he says diving back down between your legs.

John presses his soft plush lips on yours in an upside down kiss eating your moans as Gale eats your pussy.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your body clenches so tight your back arcs from the table body tensing until your core snaps releasing clear liquid arousal all over Gales mouth, you moan into John's as you orgasm for them both.

Gale removes his mouth from you, his lips and chin covered in your clear slick cum. He licks his tongue as far around his lips as he can he can't get enough of your taste then he grabs his shirt from the floor wiping the rest. He throws it back down returning to his position between your legs.

Your vision is blurry, hearing distorted legs trembling body shivering. You feel so high from the pleasure you are delirious. "I've never felt like this before, Ive never cum like this before " you whisper to both of them your body feels like you are floating off the table. John leans in and kisses your mouth, seeing you in such pleasure he wants to be inside of you so badly. Gale pulls your body to the edge of the desk flush against him slipping you out of John's grasp breaking the kiss. "We haven't cum yet" Gale says making your core start throbbing.

John gets impatient you can see the flash of anger that he wants relief but Gale keeps taking you. He moves to your right, looking over your pretty body his giant cock pulsing as he's getting ready to pleasure himself over you but you reach out and grab him around the base first making his abs clench and his face flush as he locks eyes with you and you stroke him off.

"Are you that needy?" Gale snaps watching you give John a hand job. Gale in a newfound competition for your neediness runs his tip up and down your wet folds making you moan loudly "MMMM YES YES PLEASE!" you cry out wanting him inside of you. "Quiet her with your cock" Gale tells John.

John shudders from arousal staring at your pretty mouth open and moaning not planning to use you like this. He takes your head turning it to the side to face his pelvis and you release your hand from his base as he slides his heavy cock into your wet mouth filling it up.

You feel his tip squish at the back of your throat but he can't fit completely in your mouth due to his size. A small gasp escapes Johns lips at how amazing your mouth feels on him. He gently slides his large cock in and out of you mouth coating his length in your saliva.

Gale stops rubbing his tip through your folds as you leak arousal all over his desk from sucking John's cock, he wants finish you with his and places his hands on your hips lining up and pushing himself between your legs. Your moans are stifled with your mouth full of John's cock, and your entrance makes Gale slow his pace immediately. " Fuck she's tight!" he says loudly and begins working his length half way out, half way back in until he can begin smacking his hips between your legs burying his cock fully inside of you.

John is already blissed out eyes lidded his adams apple bobbing. He places his large hand on your head holding it in place as he thrusts into your mouth his powerful thighs flexing as he uses you.

You feel so aroused having both men satisfy you and themselves at the same time. The familiar tightening of your inner coil begins. The more each of them rams their cock inside of you the tighter your core gets until your moaning on John's and clenching on Gales. The tightened coil springs free inside of you giving you a sweet release that’s is so euphoric you don’t want it to stop . Your moans of extreme pleasure are muffled on John's cock but your fluttering walls gripping Gale tightly are the tale tale sign for him, once he feels you orgasm on him he wants to cum.

He slides his heavy cock into your tight soaked entrance faster and harder until it's making obscene squelching sounds. He starts pounding his hips between your legs making you scream on each hit vibrating John's cock in your mouth. Once you earn the first moan out of John feeling your mouth suck and vibrate on him he can't stop.

They both begin groaning in tandem getting off at the same time their deep guttural moans sound so good its cataclysmic to your ears and rattling your brain.

"I'm gonna cum" Gale yells as John shouts "fuck fuck fuck" thrusting in your mouth quickly and slipping his cock out unloading hot spurts of cum all over your chest. Gale pulls out of you too pumping his shaft vigorously making depraved moaning sounds as his body tenses and he spreads his silky warmth all over your naval.

They take several seconds to calm down staring at you covered like a sexy pastry "Should we make her taste us?" Gale asks already knowing the answer John grins they each dip a finger in their cum and bring it to your mouth. You suck Gales finger first then John's. Gale goes to get a towel to clean you up.

John grabs your jaw turning you to face to him caressing his thumb on your chin, he wants you more and to himself. He stares into your pretty eyes making him fall for you instantly a shiver running through him thinking you are the sexiest thing in the world.

Gale returns from the sink with a warm wash cloth gently wiping over each breast and down your naval cleaning you completely of their combined cum.

Gale sits you up slowly on the desk checking on you

"Are you alright?" He asks. You look up at him smiling weakly " I feel really good" you say smile spreading bigger across your face. He already has to have you again, he holds your waist caressing your naval with his thumbs. He's feeling things that he doesn't know how to process because he and John will never get over this.

John sees you both having a moment and feels crestfallen thinking he should just leave. He collects his boxers putting them back on as Gale looks around and finds his.

You slip off the desk and collect your clothing stepping into your skirt. "Where are you going?" they both say in unison. "I thought you would ask me to leave" you say thinking it's easier to leave as quickly as possible and never see them again. "You're staying the night I'm taking you back in the morning" Gale says. He goes to a blank wall of his office tugging a cord and releasing a pull down queen size Murphy bed.

"Oh" you say surprised. Gale enters his office wash room retrieving a tooth brush and a towel with one of his boot camp shirts handing them to you finalizing the stay.

You smile to yourself that Gale wants you to stay. You enter the bathroom brushing your teeth listening as Gale and John debate outside about the sleeping arrangement because John wants you to stay in his office instead and they can't come to an agreement.

You emerge from the wash room looking cute to break the tension " Do you guys want to take a shower with me?" You ask sweetly and they both drop the argument. Gale enters and starts the water, when it gets to temp he moves out of your way letting you step in first.

You rinse your hair and body as they brush their teeth.

Gale finishes first getting in the shower with you, John enters second. They tower over you in the small space as they take turns rinsing their bodies off. Your eyes can't stop staring at either of them feeling like it's heaven on earth. Shiny wet muscles, large hands, smiles, abs, large cocks, strong thighs.

They satisfied you so completely you can't even think about sex your body is only craving rest.

John finally gargles playfully and spits water out from the shower head finishing first. He takes a quick flirtatious peek at your body before exiting the shower. Gale turns off the water and hands you your towel and you use it to get dry.

Both of them dry off and wrap around their waists. As you finish drying your hair Gale helps you pull his boot camp shirt over your head. "Thank you" you say shyly in appreciation "It suits you" he says admiringly. He takes you by the hand and leads you to the bed

He turns down the covers and ushers you in you crawl and sit in the middle. John is putting on his boxers getting dressed to leave when you lock eyes with him

"Can you stay?" You ask nicely and he smiles at you then looks to Gale whose his lips are pursed in a definite no. "Weve already done ...everything else together...might as well actually sleep together " you smile at Gale sweetly to persuade him.

Gale doesn't respond he just goes to click off the main light in the room. You lay down and look at John patting the bed for him to come lay next to you, he smiles and climbs on top of you and planting a small kiss on your forehead to say thank you. He lays on your left side getting under the covers spooning you from the back holding you to him by your hip.

The remaining bathroom light clicks off and Gale joins a second later settling in front of you face to face placing his hand on your waist pulling you to his chest, John pulls you back to his side and Gale pulls you back to his side once more until they settle with Gale placing his hand on your waist and John placing his hand on your hip, you lay directly between them cuddling in the dark as you all fall fast asleep.

~*End*~

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[sagesolsticewrites]

Welcome Home

Rosie finally returns home after his second tour, and you take the opportunity to show him exactly how much you missed him

Special thanks to my bestie @winniemaywebber for making a whole playlist for this fic??? What??? What in the world did I do to deserve such wonderful friends 😭

Warnings: mature content (oral (f receiving), PinV penetration), some dom/sub dynamics if you squint (Rosie’s switchyyyy in this 🥰), swearing, mentions of scars/wounds, historical inaccuracies (18+! minors begone!)

Word count: 1.8k!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

You wait anxiously on the train platform, amongst a hundred other wives and mothers and friends waiting for their loved ones’ safe return.

When Rosie had told you that he was re-enlisting after his first tour… a thousand emotions had run through you at once. Terror. Disbelief. Pride. Of course your Robert wouldn’t be satisfied until the job was finished.

And now it was. Germany had surrendered, and Rosie was finally coming home to you.

There was a hiss and a squeal as the long-awaited train pulled to a stop, and then a cacophony of shouting and joyous cheers as loved ones called to each other.

You scan the sea of joyful reunions, searching for a familiar head of curls.

A shout of your name makes you turn your head, and there he is.

Eyes sparkling, mustache neatly groomed, looking as handsome as ever in his dress uniform, stood Rosie.

Your feet carry you to him as if they have a mind of their own, and Rosie fights through the crowd to meet you halfway, catching you as you launch yourself into his arms.

You laugh in disbelief— he’s here, holding you, he’s real— as you urgently press your lips to his, the tears you’ve been trying to hold back spilling over your cheeks.

You pull away just enough to catch your breath, noses pressed together, lips brushing as you murmur soft, hurried greetings of “welcome home, baby,” “missed you so much,” “so, so proud of you.”

After what feels like an eternity of being back in his arms, lips locked in a passionate kiss, Rosie pulls away just slightly.

“Take me home, honey pie,” he murmurs, and you nod eagerly.

You let out a yelp of surprise as, rather than setting you down to lead you out to the car, Rosie simply turns and carries you out to the lot with you securely in his arms.

He pulls you in for yet another urgent kiss when he sets you down as you arrive at the car, and the promise of more sparking in his eyes has you speeding to your Brooklyn apartment.

It’s difficult to unlock the door with his lips attacking your neck, never mind his wandering hands, but you manage it, and close it quickly behind you as Rosie wastes no time in leading you to your bedroom.

“I missed you,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling you flush against him, his hands resting low on your waist, “so much, honey.”

“Missed you,” you whimper, fumbling with the buttons as you make quick work of tossing his jacket off to some corner of your room as he does the same to your dress.

He catches on quickly, yanking off his tie and drab olive shirt, leaving him just in his slacks as he walks you backwards, leaving a trail of hot kisses all down your neck.

“Been dreaming about this for so long,” he mumbles against your skin, “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna do to you when I got home.”

You shiver as he lays you down gently on the bed, his fingertips tracing the satin edges of your brassiere.

“Want me to show you?”

His voice is hoarse and raspy against your ear, making goosebumps appear all over you.

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands wandering over his exposed skin for the first time in far too long, “Please.”

You feel him grin against your skin as his mouth attacks your neck, making your back arch off the bed. 

Once your neck has been thoroughly kissed, sucked, and nipped into submission, he steps back to admire his handiwork.

You let his gaze linger on you until you can’t stand it and lift one leg to nudge him into doing something, your breath hitching when he grabs your ankle, his eyes darkening.

A glint in his eye, he bends down to brush a kiss to your ankle, your calf, your knee… he kisses his way up your leg, making you whine when he avoids your increasingly damp core in favor of continuing his path up to your hipbone. He stops to scatter kisses all along your stomach before mouthing at the valley between your breasts as he makes quick work of your brassiere.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to cup your breast reverently, “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing his lips to wrap around your nipple and suck.

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as he swirls his tongue around your peaked bud, pulling away with a pop to turn his attention to your other breast. 

Your hand buries itself in his curls as he pulls away once more, tugging him up for a kiss. His tongue meets yours as you moan into his mouth, grinding up into him with a whine in an attempt to ease the pressure in your core.

“I gotcha, honey, I gotcha,” he breathes against your lips, his searing blue gaze locking on yours as his mouth follows a trail down, down, down to the waistband of your panties.

“Robbie,” you whine, the old nickname tumbling from your lips as he digs his teeth softly into the flesh above your waistband, gently easing your underwear off.

“Oh, honey,” he gasps, taking in your damp core, “When I tell you I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”

Before you can grind out an impatient stop talking, his mouth is on you.

You moan, long and loud, as he licks deep through your folds, his nose at the perfect angle to add just the right amount of pressure to your clit.

“Shit, darling,” he groans as he licks and sucks at your core, the vibrations making your toes curl, “Taste even better than I remembered, fuck—”

Unable to keep eye contact, your head falls back against the bed with a choked whine, your hands finding their way down to grip at Robert’s curls.

Each talented movement of his tongue brings you closer to release, that string of tension in your belly growing tighter and tighter. 

Robert’s tongue brushes a very particular spot inside you that has you gasping for air, giving his curls a particularly aggressive yank, which in turn causes him to growl against you— and that’s the moment that the string snaps and sends you over the edge.

You feel Robert’s mouth move frantically against you as you ride out your orgasm, his mouth and mustache damp with your release as he pulls away, brushing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about doing that, honey,” he says, kissing his way back up to your mouth, “But none of them came close to the real thing.”

You smile into the kiss before he pulls away, hovering over you.

You take the chance to scan over Rosie’s body, tracing the lines and curves of him with your fingertips, taking in the scars and scrapes and bruises.

He freezes above you, avoiding your eyes as you try to meet his gaze, concerned.

Eventually, you realize what he’s having difficulty with.

“Robbie,” you say softly, cupping his cheek so his eyes meet yours once more, “You’re beautiful. These scars don’t change that. And I know you may not believe me right now—” you begin to brush featherlight kisses to the scrapes and bruises decorating his face and neck, “— but I’ll keep reminding you every day until you do.”

At his unconvinced nod, you take a chance. You leverage your weight and flip so that you’re now the one hovering over him.

“These scars—” you say between gentle kisses to each and every mark decorating his skin, “are a reminder to you and everyone who knows you that you’re a fighter. You— you stayed, honey, you did what you knew was right and saw it through to the end and even though I was absolutely terrified of losing you—” you inhale shakily as some of the fear you’d felt over the past few months seeps into your voice before you collect yourself, “I couldn’t be prouder. My brave, brave boy.”

You capture his lips in a tender yet heated kiss, and he melts against you, one hand moving up to fist into your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer.

You slowly begin to grind against him, your bare skin gliding deliciously against the fabric of his slacks covering the bulge at the apex of his thighs.

“Sweetheart, I—” he gasps desperately into your mouth, “shit, I need to be inside you. Lemme show my girl how much I missed her, please—”

You moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth as you fumble with his belt, Rosie wriggling out of his slacks and boxers impatiently.

You can’t resist grinding against him a few times, his breath catching at the feeling of your damp folds gliding against his bare cock.

“Honey,” he whines, burying his face in your neck, “Quit teasing, please, waited so long for this, lemme fuck you, please—”

You relent, nearly as unable to stand your own teasing as he is. Your breaths mingle as he positions himself at your entrance and you slowly, slowly, sink down onto him, biting back a stuttering moan as you stretch around him.

“Oh sweetheart,” Rosie groans, pretty blue eyes fluttering shut, “Fuck— you feel so good, honey, so tight—”

You whine at the praise, slowly rocking in his lap as you adjust to his size, gradually moving up and down his length at a toe-curlingly slow pace.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he gasps into your mouth, gripping at your hips in a futile attempt to speed you up, “Shit, you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

An entirely too innocent giggle escapes you as you continue to ride him agonizingly slowly, teasing yourself as much as him. 

After several minutes of teasing, Robert’s soft pleading only adding to the growing tension in your core — “waited so long for this, honey, please, please don’t make me wait any longer,”— your breathing becomes heavy. Robert’s hands wander over every inch of you, leaving trails of fire as you finally, finally, speed up in earnest.

“Robbie,” you gasp, “Missed this so much, baby, missed you—”

“Missed you more, sweet girl,” he breathes, burying his face in your neck to muffle the stuttering moan that escapes him, “F-fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“C’mon, baby, please,” you breathe into his ear, fisting his curls as you feel your orgasm building, “‘M right there, please, Robbie…”

His fingers dig into your skin, groaning your name, hips stuttering as he spills into you, your release following almost immediately after.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, Robert letting out a soft whine as you carefully lift yourself off of him.

“I’m so, so happy you’re home, honey,” you whisper breathlessly as you curl up next to him on the bed, fingertips tracing his jaw, pulling him close so your noses brush, “I love you.”

“I love you more, honey pie,” comes Rosie’s soft reply, grinning against your lips as he pulls you in for a long, sweet kiss.

#rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #mota #masters of the air #rosie rosenthal x reader #robert rosenthal x reader #masters of the air x reader #rosie rosenthal smut #masters of the air smut #my writing

[scuttle-buttle]

Co-Pilots

Nobody asked for this. I have the flu. I needed something nice to focus on and apparently this was it. Blame @lorna-d-m my partner in crime :) also kudos to winniemaywebber and sagesolscitcewrites because i def read all their stuff and was vibing it and the pet names and stuff sooo hard

Rated: 18+

Word Count: approx. 3k

Tags: MMF, fluff and reassurance, mentions of wartime ptsd, body confidence issues, mentions of having children, PiV sex, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, voyeurism, no stated use of contraception

A/N: Croz is referred to as Crosby, Harry, and Bing in this (so as not to confuse). And idk what rank Rosie is by this point so were just going with Major

✈️

The bright lights blinded you the first time you walked through New York City; tonight was no different. Flashes of neon whites, golds, blues, reds, lit up your path as you entered the lobby to the Ritz hotel. Your husband had made arrangements for you to meet him in the city much as he had a near 2 years ago during the height of the war. You wanted to meet him at the airport. Crosby insisted he find you at the hotel. And now, with Hitler defeated, he was on his way home. For good. 

His phone call had startled you. Usually, you wrote him weekly, sometimes more if you felt lonesome. Harry’s letters were less frequent, but no less loving. Little Steve kept you more than busy most days, back home safe terrorizing your mother and father while you got some rest and relaxation with your Bing in the big city. The toddler was a shining light in your dark days. He had the same dark curls, the same downturned eyes as his father. A piece of your love that was yours no matter what the war brought - or took.

You’d nearly lost your footing when you heard his voice, gruff and mellow, across the line. Darlin’ it's me, he'd said, I'm coming home but I've got some business to finish in the city, meet me there. I'm bringing Rosie, you remember him yeah? Said he'll take us dancing at the best jazz spots. I love you Mrs. Crosby. See you soon.

Now you wait in the lobby for your love and his friend.

Minutes tick by as you wait. Maybe the plane was late? Maybe they had to meet somewhere after landing to debrief? Maybe there was a problem with the engine? Just as your maybes started to drown out the chatter and bustle around you a voice rang out.

“Well ho-ly mackerel, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Mrs. Crosby.”

The sight of your husband had you dashing into his waiting arms. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him senseless over and over and over. Crosby couldn’t contain his laughter at your reaction, nor did he bother hiding it when he wiped his eyes dry. 

“I’ve missed you so much Bing.”

His forehead rested on yours. “God how I’ve missed you too, Darlin’.” 

Over his shoulder you notice a taller man, stylish moustache and curls neatly gelled into place, attempting to avert his eyes and give your reunion privacy. You were struck by how attractive he was. “Bing?”

“Oh!” Harry takes a step back. “Darlin’ this is Robert Rosenthal - or Rosie as us boys like to call him.”

Rosie gives a toothy smile and holds out his hand for a firm shake; “so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby. Croz here has told me all about you.”

Giving your husband a raised eyebrow, you ask “all good things I hope?”

Both men chuckle. “Only the best, ma’am.” 

The three of you settled into your rooms before deciding that a celebration was in order. Rosie commandeered the evening, promising only the best jazz New York had to offer. Drinks flowed, the band jived, and couples danced the night away. 

Night after night, Rosie took you somewhere new. You’d split your time whirling the dancefloor between both your husband and his pilot friend, never satisfied until your feet ached. Harry claimed all the slow dances, nestled up close to your body. But Rosie? He got the fast-paced, jumping, hip swaying swing that Crosby claimed he couldn’t keep up with. Two left feet, he’d claim. Each morning after you slept in the plush, luxurious Ritz bed until lunchtime while they attended to their military duties. 

Friday rolled around. It had been a week of this routine. You should’ve been exhausted, you should’ve wanted to slow down - after all you were no spring chicken anymore. Yet, something about being in the arms of your husband and Rosie as you swayed to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller felt so right. 

When the barkeep yelled for “last call” you knew it was time to retire for the evening.

“Say, why don’t you come have a nightcap in our room, Rosie? Crosby asked.

The three of you settle into the living room of the suite assigned to you and your husband. Bing plops into an armchair with a satisfied huff. You join Rosenthal on the loveseat, a respectable distance inbetween. A bottle of whisky sits open on the fireplace mantle. Conversation comes and goes as the trio fall from the high of the night. It’s easy. Almost makes the boys forget the horrors they endured in Europe. 

Around 1am the conversation begins to lull as you finish regaling the group with a story of the shenanigans you and your girlfriends would get up to during university days. “-You think you boys were bad flying all around in your skivvies, but it was nothing compared to us girls that night!” Laughter filled the room until all had let it trickle to a close; the silence was warm like the fireplace embers. Robert sat enraptured by your story, by your beauty, by the thought of you under that blue dress and all your curves. He knew he shouldn’t have noticed…..he was just a man after all. And with the things he’d seen? Could you really blame him?

“How long’s it been Rosie?” The question broke the man’s gaze from you and directed it towards Crosby. He didn’t know it was so obvious. 

Rosie was about to stumble out an answer, an apology for looking at you like that, he doesn’t know, when Croz interrupts again. “When’s the last time you felt the touch of a good woman, Rosie?” Harry waits for an answer. Rosenthal can feel his face heat; he runs his fingers through his hair mussing the curls out of place. This confident Crosby was much bolder than the one he’d met when he first shipped out to the 100th. “Before the war?” There is no judgment in his eyes, no disdain or hesitation towards his comrade as he asks. Rosie shakes his head in affirmation. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, whisky unfinished.

Crosby sighs. “Too long.”

“Too damn long…” Rosie agrees in a mumble. 

You sit and watch the boys in rapt attention before meeting Bing's chocolatey eyes. Rosenthal is a good man, a great one from what your husband’s letters proved, and he deserves kindness and softness after all he’s been through. They both do. A delicate hand moves to rest on Rosie’s knee where he sits next to you. His brow furrows. The Major flits his gaze between you and your husband.

In all seriousness Crosby says “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He tilts his head forward in permission, a silent go ahead. 

The navigator noticed how Rosie looked at you all night, how you returned the glances like a game of chicken. Each admiring but neither willing to do anything about it. How the two of you danced around the club without a care in the world at his insistence. He hadn’t seen Rosie smile like that in ages. He knew you hadn’t laughed like that since before he announced he was heading to the front. You definitely were reveling in the attention of both men tonight. This was never something you had discussed with your husband; somehow you just knew each other well enough even after so long apart to know that it was okay. It was something you both wanted.

Your fingers drifted higher on Rosie’s thigh; not enough to be indecent, but enough to get the message across. His larger palm came to rest atop yours, stopping the movement. “You uh- you’re okay with this?” the Brooklyn native questioned. 

Without hesitation you reassure “I am.” 

In a measured, almost odd approach Rosenthal shifts towards you. His lips hover over your cheek for a moment before the softest kiss brushes your skin. The whiskers of his mustache tickle. You can’t help the grin that threatens to break. He continues to kiss along your cheek, once, twice, thrice, each getting closer to your waiting lips. Finally, his chapped lips meet yours. This kiss is awkward at first as he gathers his bearing, quickly finding a rhythm as if no time had passed since he last kissed a pretty dame.

Crosby sunk deeper into his chair as he watched. He could feel the tell-tale sign of his slacks becoming tighter as he watched his best girl and his best friend. “She loves it when you kiss her neck,” he instructed with that smirk of his. Rosie dragged his lips to your throat. “Little lower-” again he shifted “-right there.” A moan slipped from your parted lips as your body warred with the directions from your husband and the attentions from your lover. 

The room felt stifling. Rosie’s coat, your dress, his shirt, your stockings, his trousers, your brassiere - each fluttered off to the floor one by one. Even Bing had lost his button down. 

The Major guided you onto your back along the couch, trailing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, along your breasts. A moment of clarity passed your mind that your body was different now than the last time you had been made love to, whether by your husband or not, since the baby. Your breasts weren't as pert, your stomach was softer than it used to be. Lips pursed, you let out a small sigh. 

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Bing asked. The navigator leaned towards you, brushing a strand of fallen hair from your face. “You know I can read you better than any map.” Rosie stopped and rested his chin on your abdomen to look up. 

“We can stop,” Rosie offered.

“No, It’s silly…” you tried to brush off.

Both men came to your defense immediately. Looking between the two you finally settle on your husband’s face. “It’s just that… since the last time we saw each other I’m different. My body changed and- I don’t know. I want it to be enough for you. For you both,” you add with a look to Rosie.

Crosby drops from the chair to his knees before you. “My pretty girl.” He kisses you slowly. “We’ve all changed.” From below Rosie adds nothing is the same. “You are still the most beautiful, most incredible, woman I’ve ever seen. Gosh - you’re my wife. Mrs. Crosby! I would fight to the ends of the earth to come home to you.” Softer he adds “I did fight to come home to you… and to bring this flak-happy bastard along too,” he laughed, nudging his elbow at his mate. “Now be a good girl and let us treat you right.” At your nod Rosie resumes his ascent down your waiting body. 

With a flourish your panties are gone, your dripping center exposed to his hungry stare. “What does she like, Croz? Because I'm not stopping until she comes begging all over my tongue.” He licks a deep stripe along your slit. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” Gone is the man unsure of himself, and in place is a god amongst men who knows exactly what he wants. It’s all you can do to hold on as Rosie devours you at your husband’s suggestions. Fingers dig into the cushions, tangle into his curls as you writhe under him. 

Rosie puts in his best effort to undo you; your husband saunters up to your face, his pants long forgotten. Cock stiff and ready, dripping with need, he runs the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip. Your teeth nibble at the pad.  “Think you can take me too, darlin’?” A whimpered please is all that comes out.

A cacophony of moans fills the air as your senses are assaulted - Rosie latched to your pussy like a lifeline and your Crosby’s cock deep inside your mouth. “That’s it darlin’, just like that. I bet you missed me, huh? I can tell you did, sweet girl. Fuck I missed you….” 

You gave him everything you had as you licked and sucked at his length. You could have sworn it was bigger than you remembered. He could tell by the look in your eyes you were getting closer, hell he was too. Lord knew he didn’t want to finish like some schoolboy in your lovely mouth. Crosby pulled himself out and you gasped for air. Cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down your temple he turned to his partner. “Use your fingers Rose, drives her wild when you crook them up inside her ‘n don't be afraid to get rough - give her a nip.” He punctuated the end of his command with a nip of his own to your throat. Rosie did exactly as instructed, sending you careening further to the edge and hips bucking.

“Oh- please Rosie- oh god don’t stop-” tumbles out as you start to fall. You swear you feel him humming against your clit as his fingers burn pleasure into your skin.

“That’s it darlin’, just let go for him. Being such a good girl for us,” croons your Bing.

When it all gets too much you gently push him from you. He goes gracefully, dropping chaste kisses to your thighs and hips. Despite feeling like a bowl of jello you remember your purpose tonight - to give Rosie a proper homecoming. 

Sitting up you demand he rid himself of his trousers. 

He grins. “Yes ma’am.” 

Just as Rosie goes to cover your body again you place your hand on his broad chest, pushing until he is in a sitting position. You quickly seat yourself over his lap, his length resting against you. Grinding down, he grunts. “Let me take care of you Rosie, it’s okay.” Kissing his temple, the corner of his mouth, his Adam's apple, you repeat “I want to take care of you dear, let me.”

With another roll of your hips he enters you. He feels different than your husband, but no less wonderful. Rosie’s hands land firmly on your hips as you rock above him. He knows he won't last long, you feel too good. “God Croz how do you do it? She’s so- ugh fuck” he grunts, head tossed back as you squeeze his length. 

“I know, Rose, I know. Just like heaven.” Your husband rubs your back as you move.

Rosenthal buries his face in the crook of your neck, his whimpers muffled so that only you can hear. There are no words for him to describe this feeling: the feeling of being comforted, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of home inside you, even if just for tonight. He almost feels a tear spring to his eyes. Circling your arms around his shoulders you remind him that you’ve got him, that he’s safe, that you're here. You pick up the pace as you ride him, bringing him closer and closer to his fate. His pelvis bucks up to meet yours with every roll.

“Honey I- I’m getting real close.”

You seal your lips on his; “I’ve got you, Rosie. I want you to come for me dear.”

With a deep groan he lifts you off his cock, his spend covering your stomachs and lap in a sticky mess. You hold him as he comes down from his high. 

“That was wonderful, thank you…just, thank you.” You kiss him once more; he knows he doesn’t have to thank you for anything, but he does because he’s Rosie. He carefully cleans you of his come with his discarded undershirt.

Crosby drops his lips to the crown of your head, beginning to pull the pins out of your carefully styled hair. “Come here, Darlin’.” He helps to lift you from his colleagues’ lap. “I wanna make love to my wife.” 

In seconds you’re on the floor under Crosby, his cock already buried to the hilt within you. Neither of you move as you both enjoy the feel of each other reunited as husband and wife. Whispered streams of I love you and I missed you and fuck you feel so good tumble from your lips, barely an inch apart. Harry would never need a map to know the curves, the sensitive spots, the constellations of beauty marks on your body - he knew it better in his memory than any map he could chart.

Besides you on the couch Rosie has slumped over to lay down, his arm hanging off towards you. Every breath of your husband’s puffs against your neck, every tickle of hair from across his chest reminds you that he’s here and he’s alive and he’s yours. Emotion overwhelmed you; “Bing, love please, I need you.”

Crosby hitches your thigh up and around his hip; “I’m here Darlin’.” With that he starts to thrust within your walls. His lithe body moves with a power you had nearly forgotten. Each roll of his hips he pounds into you harder, faster, with abandon; his dog tags cool against your breasts where they hung. Harry was a gentle man, but held so much emotion inside. He could let go with you. 

Your next orgasm was building, hotter and faster than the first. Nails raking down your husband’s back, you reached out your other to grab hold of Rosie’s outstretched palm. The slap of skin echoed around the room, mixed with the crackle of the fire and the sound of heaving breaths. 

An inferno raged within you. Every touch, every movement atop you sent sparks down every nerve ending. You didn’t know where you stopped and your husband began. “Fuck Bing mmmm- Harry please-” The rug beneath you rubbed your back raw but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as long as he kept going.

Crosby had his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit in an instant. “Tell me you’re close, I need you to come Darlin’.” You couldn’t catch your breath so you nodded the best you could while squeezing the life out of Rosie’s fingers.  

Another snap of his hips and you’re gone, obliterated. Everything felt euphoric and white-hot. Crosby follows suit, his release filling you and your name on his tongue. Bruises will surely linger on your thighs. 

There you lay, tangled in the afterglow, your loving husband above you stroking his knuckles against your side and your new lover’s hand in yours. No words needed to be spoken. The moment you shared would be seared into your mind forever playing on repeat. God forbid another crisis happened that would ship your boys out and away from you - yet if it did you would hold on to tonight like a talisman. It had been a long four years, and longer so for them. But the war was won, with spoils a plenty. 

Finally. 

Lips meeting your Bing’s sweat-slicked forehead, your grip on Rosenthal tightens. “Welcome home my boys, welcome home.”  

Tags: @sagesolsticewrites @winniemaywebber @sailorscuttle @thirstyvampyr @hellfirequinnie @lorna-d-m

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfic #robert rosie rosenthal #harry crosby #harry crosby x reader wife x rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal smut #harry crosby smut #masters of the air smut #anthony boyle #nate mann #anthony boyle smut #nate mann smut #scuttle-buttle

[danopdf]

rosie rosenthal would eat you out while you read out loud to him, send post.

#rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #masters of the air #dano speaks #masters of the air x reader #rosie rosenthal x reader #masters of the air smut

[3d-wifey]

what nsfw alphabet is up next if you don't mind me asking?

I don't mind at all. I have a long list and it really depends on what i'm in the mood for. Right now though, I'm thinking either Damon Salvatore or (poly) Gale "Buck" Cleven and John "Bucky" Egan

#3d wifey talks #3d wifey answers #damon salvatore #damon salvatore x reader #the vampire diaries #tvd #masters of the air #masters of the air smut #gale cleven x reader #gale cleven x john egan #gale buck cleven #gale cleven #gale x john #buck x bucky #buck cleven #john bucky egan #gale x bucky #john egan #bucky egan #john egan x reader #clegan #bucky x buck

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #gosh is that a first tag? i don’t think so I know I’ve seen schemes at the very least on here #mota fanfic #austin butler #gale cleven #john egan #Major Egan #Major Cleven #buck cleven #Gale Cleven fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fluff #Austin Butler imagine #Austin butler smut #callum Turner fanfiction #callum turner #harry crosby #anthony boyle #hbo war #band of brothers #the pacific

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

I hate/love you

John Egan X Plane mechanics! Reader

Summary: Bucky "hates" the new mechanics...

Warning: Ennemis to lover/ smut/ 18+/ p in v/ oral sex (m and f receiving)/ unprotected sex/ swearing/ use of Y/n/ violence/

Word count: 3.2k

She didn’t know why, but he infuriated her. His cocky attitude, his dumb moustache, his curly hair and his devilish smile. But sadly, she had to see him everyday, as a W.A.C, she had to be on the base all the time. She was an airplane mechanic, and for some reason, Lemmons liked to assign her to work on John Egan’s plane each time his plane needed to be fixed. At first, he didn’t bother her, but time went by, and he started to bother her; his plane had a weird noise, he blamed it on her, the mission didn’t go well, blamed it on her and the weather was shitty, it was Y/n’s fault. She needed that job, and beside him, she loved her job. When the planes came back today, she fixed her ponytail before heading in her jeep to drive to the runway. When she arrived, she saw Major Egan’s plane and drove towards it. She took a deep breath before getting out of her car.

‘’Y/l/n, we have a problem with engine 3, it barely shut down. I thought I was going to blow up!’’ he spat. ‘’Hello Y/n, how are you, by the way I have a problem with engine 3, can you please look at it? Of course, Major, since you ask so nicely, I’ll do it right away!’’ she said sarcastically. ‘’Whatever, can you fix the plane, please’’ he taunted. Y/n snorted before rolling her eyes. ‘’Right away, Major’’ she blinked multiples times and said it with a sweet but sarcastic voice. He cursed under his breath before walking away. ‘’Girls, hook it up and bring it in the workshop’’ she ordered the other mechanics she worked with.

She’d been working on Major Egan’s plane for hours, the sun was down, and she was hungry, other girls went to bed, it was late. She decided to stay up all night to work on his plane, because recently, they flew more missions. Y/n was only going to eat, and she would go back to work after. When she entered the cafeteria, she saw the one person she couldn’t bear. ‘’You got to be fucking kidding me?’’ she mumbled, annoyed that he was here. Non the less, she took a plate that was left and went to sit as far away from him as possible. ‘’How is the fixing going?’’ he asked. She was surprised that he was speaking to her, she stops chewing for a second and swallowed her food. ‘’Good, I’m almost done, why?’’ she was genuinely curious about why he was suddenly interested in her and her work. He rose his shoulder before shaking his head. ‘’Just wanted to know, and I wondered why you were still awake’’ this hole conversation was awkward, but it was the first in a long time that they weren’t mean to the other. ‘’Because I’m fixing it alone, the girls worked hard enough today. I thought I was going to be okay alone, but it’s complicated.’’ She explained.

He rose from his seat, plate in his hands and came to sit in front of her, she was surprised. But she didn’t say anything. ‘’Maybe I could help’’ he proposed. She blinked and looked at him with a confused look. ‘’Why would you want to help me, you can’t stand me and then you want to help me’’ she states. He scoffs and looks at his plate. ‘’Yeah, you’re right, but I want my plane ready for tomorrow’’ he fakes smiles. Y/n rolls her eyes and exhales. ‘’Alright’’ she breaths out.

She ties her overall around her waist, it’s so hot inside the workshop. Her hair is in some kind of a messy bun, but it’s too messy to tell. She has a white tank top that’s covered in grease. ‘’Can you pass me the screwdriver?’’ she asked as she whipped the sweat off her face with a tissue. ‘’Which one?’’ he asked, looking at the table were the tools are. She rolled her eyes and pointed one screwdriver on the table. ‘’No, not that one’’ she exhaled. He scoffed in annoyance. ‘’Which one, Y/n? There’s like 7 screwdrivers on the table’’ he exclaimed. She slid down the plane, he looked at her breast as she did so. She took the famous screwdriver and took a breath. ‘’Can you help me get back up?’’ she asked. He nodded and began helping her get up. His hand came close to her butt. ‘’If you touch my ass, I swear I’ll sabotage the engine’’ she warned. ‘’It’s either your ass or you fall’’ he sighed. ‘’I’d rather fall’’ she muttered as his hand pushed her ass up to help her. She puts her legs each side of the plane and bends over to reach the engine. Bucky had a perfect view of her ass.

‘’Can you start it up?’’ Y/n asked. Bucky was seated in the cockpit, waiting for the woman to boss him around. He kind of found it convenient, because for a wicked reason, he had a boner. He spent almost 45 minutes watching her ass and that white tank top embraced her tits beautifully. Even though she was seated next to him, he could try and hide his growing problem. When he started the plane, the engine sputtered a little bit before fully starting. ‘’Christ on a stick! It’s working!’’ she cheered, resting her arms behind her head, making her tits pop out a little bit. ‘’You kiss people with that mouth?’’ he teased. ‘’I kiss whoever I want with that mouth’’ she replied. She turned to look at him, but when her eyes trailed down, she noticed a weird shape on his pants. She scoffed as she looked at him in the eyes. ‘’I thought you hated me’’ she laughed. He fixed his jacket, to try to hide it, even though it wasn’t necessary anymore. ‘’It’s a hate boner, I swear!’’ he exclaimed. She laughed even harder; she couldn’t believe he was hard right now. ‘’Shut up!’’ he exclaimed. ‘’Make me’’ she dared.

Before he could do something about it, the bomb raid siren was heard. They quickly got out of the plane and made their way to separate bunkers, she couldn’t believe she almost kissed him; him! Why was she feeling like this, all flustered and hot. She tried to get him out of her head, but even the bombs dropping near by couldn’t distract her. Neither could they distract him, plus he still had that stupid boner he needed to get rid of.

That morning, she woke up after having a wet dream about him. It was disturbingly hot, and she couldn’t get it out of her head. It made her angry, why the hell was her brain sex dreaming about him?! She got dressed in a new pair of overalls as she made her way inside the cafeteria, she spotted him instantly. She shook her head as she made her way to her table with her girls. Y/n tried to ignore him, without success. ‘’Hey! Bitch, can you come fix my engine!’’ one pilot said. It was something the girls were used too, but Y/n was not having it, not this morning. She got up and looked at the man. ‘’The fuck did you say?’’ she confronts him. ‘’Come here and fix my engine’’ the man had his hands in his pants. She scoffed. ‘’As if you had an engine to fix’’ she sassed. The girls at the table laughed and the man reacted. ‘’Why are you being such a skank?’’ he spat. Bucky looked at the man. ‘’Dude just shut up already!’’ he groaned. Y/n was surprised and mentally cursed herself and her uterus for reacting the way it just did. The sexist man sat back down and so did Y/n. ‘’That was amazing’’ one of the younger girls exclaims. ‘’Thanks – ‘’ she cuts her off. ‘’Yes you, but Bucky protecting you’’ Anna giggled. Y/n rolled her eyes and scoffed. ‘’Whatever, my coffee is not finished and it’s too early to have this conversation’’ she said.

No one had the right to be an asshole to her but him! Who did this guy this he was anyway?! ‘’What the hell was that?’’ Curt asked. ‘’What was what?’’ he asked. ‘’That, standing up for her’’ he said, moving his hand in a circular shape. ‘’That was nothing, that dude was annoying.’’ He tried to explain. The guys at the table didn’t believe it, but they didn’t want to push him. He watched her from the corner of his eyes, he couldn’t believe what happened last night, he almost kissed her if it wasn’t for this damn siren, who know what would’ve happened.

‘’Faster please’’ she moaned. He was trusting inside of her as one of his hands played with her breast. ‘’I love it when you beg for me like that. It makes you sound so desperate’’ he teased as he rolled his hips harder, hitting her g-spot. She arched her back as she rolled her eyes. ‘’Keep rolling your eyes like that’’ he ordered.

She was zoned out, thinking about her wet dream. Anna snaped her fingers in her face. Y/n shook her head as she looked at Anna. ‘’What?’’ she mumbled. ‘’What planet were you on?’’ she chuckled. ‘’Let’s go, we have to do some touch up on planes’’ Y/n got up and went outside. Bucky watched her as she left, looking at her ass as she passed next to him.

She jumped out of the plane since everything was okay, but she was in front of the prick from this morning. ‘’I just fixed your actual plane, your welcome’’ she smirked. ‘’Thank you, bitch’’ he spat. Y/n whipped her hands on a tissue. ‘’Shut up, asshole’’ she responded. Before she knew it, he grabbed her by the throat and pressed her against the plane. ‘’I’ve had enough of your bratty attitude. You’re going to do as I say. Now say Yes Chris’’ the man named Chris ordered. Y/n had enough room to try to fight. She tried to wiggle her way out of his grip, Chris’s hand loosens his grip, only to slap her. But Y/n took the opportunity to hit him in the balls. Chris falls on the ground, moaning in pain. ‘’Fuck you, Chris’’ Y/n says, out of breath, before walking away.

When he saw her walking with a bloody nose, he felt worried about her. What the fuck happened? He walked up to her, trying to contain his anger. ‘’Oh, hi Major’’ she said, surprised to see him. ‘’Who did this to you?’’ he asked, touching her upper arm to prevent her to walk away. ‘’No one, I, uh, hurt myself while fixing the plane.’’ She lied. He knew she lied. ‘’Who. Did. This. To. You?’’ he insisted. ‘’Chris, the guy from this morning. But I dealt with him. Kicked him in the balls’’ she admitted. ‘’I’m going to fucking kill him’’ he mumbled.

A bloody Chris was walking towards her, she was so confused. ‘’Y/n, I’m sorry for slapping you.’’ He sounded nervous. ‘’It’s, uh, okay? Are you being held at gun point?’’ she asked, concerned. ‘’Kind of, Bucky said he’ll kill me if I touch you again, and he hit me’’ he explained. She scoffed, in complete shock. ‘’Apology accepted’’ she mumbled. She turned around and walked to her room. When she closed the door, she was still in shock. ‘’WHAT THE FUCK?!’’ she exclaimed.

He saw her coming from the air, driving her jeep like a champion. He was still angry with Chris, that idiot had no right to touch her like this. When he landed, Y/n practically ran to his plane. ‘’Hey, Y/n, the engine 3 is still messing around, could you look at it please?’’ he asked nicely. ‘’Are you sick or something or was that you actually being nice to me?’’ she said ironically. She looked at her colleagues. ‘’Hook it up and bring it to the workshop, like usual!’’ she mumbled the last part. ‘’No, I’m not sick, I just tried to be nice’’ he said. ‘’Okay, that’s weird, but nice. I gotta go’’ she said, in a monotonous tone. ‘’Hey, uh, could I help you out later?’’ he asked, scratching the back of his head. ‘’Sure, whatever’’ she jumped into her jeep and drove away.

She was alone, working on the goddam 3rd engine of this freaking plane. She heard the door opened; she didn’t see who it was. ‘’Anna, I told you to go to sleep!’’ She said, keeping her head down. The person that was in the room didn’t respond. ‘’Hello?’’ she asked. ‘’Hey, you’’ Bucky said, walking beside the plane, looking up at her. ‘’Major, you scared me’’ she breathed out. She slid down the plane, landing in front of him. He watched her tits, again. ‘’I have a question’’ she asked, wiping her hands on her overall. ‘’What’s up buttercup?’’ he said. She rolled her eyes. ‘’Did you punched Chris this morning and threatened him if he didn’t apologise to me?’’ she asked. He smirked and proudly nodded. ‘’Are you kidding me?!’’ she shouted. ‘’Not at all, that asshole had it coming’’ he stated. ‘’I can’t believe you. And I clearly don’t understand you either?’’ she exclaimed. She tried to climb up the plane, but almost fell. He did like he did yesterday, put his hands on her ass. But it annoyed her. ‘’Put those hands away!’’ she snapped.

Bucky was walking her up to her room, he didn’t want to be alone. ‘’Why did you punch Chris?’’ she blurted out. ‘’Because he was being a dick’’ he responded. She face palmed, as she started to feel rain drops on her skin, damn English weather. ‘’You can’t punch people just because they’re dicks! Otherwise, I would’ve punched you a long time ago!’’ she exclaimed. Bucky smirked. ‘’Sorry I should’ve let you handle it?’’ he raised his voice. The rain was pouring, they were both soaking wet. ‘’Maybe, I had it under control without you!’’ she exclaimed, moving her arms as she spoke. ‘’Fine! I’ll let him beat you up next time!’’ he breathed out. ‘’Why do you even care?!’’ she asked. They were both panting from the emotions. He came closer to her, practically breathing in her face. He could see her chest rising from the heavy breathing. ‘’I care because you invaded my mind. There’s not a second that goes by where I don’t think about you. The idea of another men touching you infuriates me. You’re mine, Y/n, don’t you get that?’’ he said, against her mouth. She looked at him, then his lips and his eyes again. She blushed hard. ‘’Fuck it’’ she mumbled before pressing her lips against his.

As they entered her room, he kicked the door to close it, there was no going back. The tension they felt was finally broken and they were hungry for the other. He pressed her against the wall while still holding her thigh. ‘’You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this’’ he growled. ‘’Shut up and show it to me’’ she said eagerly. ‘’Bossy, I like it’’ he mumbled against her lips. He laid her down on the bed, taking her overall off at the same time. ‘’God you’re breathtaking’’ he praised. ‘’And you talk too much’’ she said, pulling him by the tie to kiss him. Their tongue danced together as she worked a way to take his shirt off. She trailed her hands on his abs, biting her lips. ‘’How can we go from hating each other to wanting to do the most unholy things to the other’’ she teased. ‘’Right now, I don’t hate you’’ he said, unbuckling his pants. She crawled to the end of the bed, where he was up. She seated in front of him, her face was right in front of his hard dick. She looked at him, her eyes were killing him, so innocent, yet filled with dirty thoughts. Y/n took her shirt off and threw it on the ground, she didn’t wear a bra, so she was left in her panties. Her hand was touching his lower stomach, she loved how his breath deepened when she was near his boxer line. She gently tugged them down, still maintaining eye contact. Slowly, she took his length in her mouth, pressing kisses to the tip, before fully taking him inside her mouth, he let out a shaky breath. ‘’Oh shit’’ he moaned. She started to bob her head at a sensual pace, maintaining eye contact with him. Bucky’s hand found her hair and pulled it slightly, from pleasure. ‘’If you keep doing this I’m going to cum.’’ He warns, she giggled, the vibration making him moan. ‘’Afraid you can’t keep up, Major?’’ she teased. He lifted her by under the shoulder, he made her back up from the bed, he laid down between her legs.

‘’Tell me, do you care about those panties?’’ he asked, she shook her head in confusion. He tears her panties off, like actually rips them off her body. ‘’Did you just?’’ she looks at him, confused. ‘’I’ll buy you a new pair’’ he said before diving in between her legs. He kissed her inner thigh before pressing small kisses on her clitoris. She moaned as she arched her back, he smirked as he continued his work. Y/n’s hand found his hair, tugging hard. He was grinning like the town idiot. ‘’As much as I’m enjoying this. Please Major, fuck me, please’’ she begged. He thought he was going to faint; she was begging him to fuck her. ‘’God, you’re so pretty when you beg’’ he grins.

He rests on top of her, she bucks her hips, trying to have contact. ‘’Look at you, so desperate for my cock’’ he teased. ‘’News flash, Major, you crave my pussy too’’ she moans against his lips. With one trust, he penetrates her, she arches her back and moans his name. ‘’Keep moaning my name like that, shit’’ he moaned. She bites her lips, trying to hold her moan. Bucky rocks his hips to a fast pace, they’re both close and crave a relief. Her breast that he like so much bounce up and down with every trust, he lowers his head to go and kiss them. She tried to match his pace with her hips, but her walls were clenching, and her breath quickened. A part of her didn’t want this to be over, but it felt too good to hold back. ‘’Come on, Y/n, come for me, let me hear those pretty sounds. Come for me’’ he praised. That was all she needed to let the knot explode in her stomach, she came hard, her back arched even more and she was saying his name like it was a prayer. He kept thrusting into her for a split second before releasing into her, he growled her name as he crashed on top of her. ‘’Y/n’’ he moaned.

She was playing with his curls; they were still naked and tangled up together. ‘’I’m sorry for all the mean things I said to you’’ he apologized. ‘’Trust me, I forgive you’’ she giggled. He chuckled before kissing the top of her head. ‘’I have to go; I have a mission tomorrow’’ he sadly announces. ‘’It’s okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Major’’ she said, smiling to him. As he was getting dressed, he kept looking at her, smiling to her as he did so. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear’’ he said, kissing her before he left. That was definitely not a one time thing for them…

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #master of the air #john egan x reader #master of the air imagine #major john egan #john egan #john egan smut

[willyoubemycherryy]

ღ𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐_.!* @eymie --_𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕-_𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢.-._𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛..--𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎?:.. 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎-//𝚒𝚗-..._𝚝𝚑𝚎-,,𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜-*.𝚘𝚏__𝙼𝚛..&𝙼𝚛𝚜_-/𝙴𝚐𝚊𝚗.• !!_ _ _

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜❥ 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚞𝚗-, 𝚙✪𝚛𝚗 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝, 𝚙𝚟𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚊, 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚊𝚕𝚕...𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 ⚠︎︎MDNI⚠︎︎

“𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐~ 𝒂𝒏𝒙𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔..𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊����’? 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰'𝒎 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒄...“

.• •. •

This was a secret that you would take to your grave.

Clamping your hands tightly over your mouth, trying desperately to quiet the shuddering moans that were threatening to spill through.

You two could not be found like this under any circumstances.

In the corner of a empty dark room, the one typically used for parties after a mission well done. Leaning heavily against the wall with your superior on his knees, sultry mouth glued to your cunt.

Major John fucking Egan. AKA; the death of you.

"Mmm, I missed you pretty bunny...she’s so sweet today. I wonder why..."

Putting your hands down you managed a weak glare at the man nestled between your thighs, but it was rendered moot as the length of his tongue traveled between your swollen pussy lips.

The groan that followed caused vibrations along your throbbing clit, your eyes rolling upwards at the pleasure running up your spine. Honestly, you really needed to deliver some important files for Operations but when John saw you there for the first time in forever four days, it suddenly didn’t matter that you had a job to do before he was promptly dragging you away, to now.

Where he had been leisurely licking away at you for damn near half an hour, every objection dying on your lips.

Humming thoughtfully, Bucky lifted your thighs closer around his shoulders and planted a wet kiss right on your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Your jaw dropped open in a sharp gasp, heat rushing over you like a tidal wave. Crying in pleasure as his tongue repeatedly stroked beneath the hood; almost too intense and trickling into pain. If that weren't enough, you felt two of his thick fingers thrust inside your dripping cunt, crooking upwards.

"B-Bucky, how fucking long are y-you gonna—Oh, f-fuck!" Your warbled moans almost drowned out the sounds coming from Bucky’s mouth, who was eating you like your life was on the line.

Your arch shot upwards as his fingers swirled in hard circles against that spot inside of you; lips sucking tightly around your clit. He was in his own little world as he drank in your pussy like it really was the last thing he would taste.

The obscene moans and wet smacking of his lips made your face burn hotly, but he was not concerned with your embarrassment. God if anyone caught you…somehow the riskiness of your current position only pushed him to pull more amorous sounds from your mouth.

So, reluctantly releasing your poor clit, Bucky spread his fingers inside of you and slipped his tongue inside; fucking you with it.

He was in heaven. Drowning beneath the heavy scent of your arousal, your taste sweet like honey in his mouth.

You bit down on your bottom lip and unconsciously began to undulate your hips; hiccups and moans bubbling in your throat. His thrusting tongue was the literal definition of paradise—euphoria and pleasure lighting every nerve in your body, making them 'pop'.

Risking a glance down, you felt your breath catch at the low, heated, cerulean gaze pinning you still. Bucky nipped you as he wiggled his tongue within your slick pussy; the bottom of his face drenched with both his saliva and your own juices.

When rough fingers came to roll your clit in quick circles, your head dropped back against the wall as you cum hard. Trembling, you squeal as he continued to thrust his tongue and help you through the waves of ecstasy; groaning deeply as your release flooded his mouth.

Waves finally receding, Bucky gently pulled his tongue free of your abused cunt and licked up the excess. You were far too out of it to do anything except moan softly Bucky—licking and kissing all the way up your stomach and stopping to press his face against your collarbone.

It felt like your legs would give out any second as you tried to straighten yourself and catch your breath.

John was unusually placid as he cuddled you to him before looking down at you with an entirely too satisfied smirk, pretty blue eyes gleaming at your exhausted expression.

“Oooh. I wore you out huh?” Laughing at the weak glare you shoot him.

“Harlot.” You hiss at him with a scowl.

John doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by your insult, eyebrows shooting up in surprise before laughing even harder.

“Yeah? Well you’re a quickshot and a crybaby.” Gasping sharply in embarrassment, you whirl around to smack his chest.

“THATS NOT FAIR!” But in all fairness you started it. John just smiles down at you fondly, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“You’re right. Don’t be mad at me?” Pouting lightly at you and watching how it takes less than 2 seconds for you to give in and nod, kissing him back on the lips.

“Okay seriously though, next time try not to abduct me in front of everyone because…all the guys were whistling,” it’s embarrassing to recount as you mutter to him. All the hollers and “don’t hurt her too bad Major”’s thrown your way.

“Alright. Cross my heart. I’ll even smack them upside the head for you.” You scoff in begrudged amusement but he’s dead serious.

“My hero,” his heart melts at that and he wishes he could keep you for just a little bit longer. “Sadly I have to get going, big guy. I’ll come find you as soon as I’m done. So don’t miss me too much okay?” Cupping his face, you rub your noses together before pecking his pouty lips.

“I make no promises but I’ll be waiting. Run along, bunny. And thanks for the sweets.” One last kiss accompanied by his low voice as he lets you tend to your other duties. Watching you go.

Huh? You didn’t bring any sweets though?

The double meaning doesn’t hit you until you’re out in the hall, the door swinging shut behind you. Eyes popping wide as you gasp,

“JOHN EGAN-!! YOU LITTLE BUTTMUNCH!” You shout out, face hot, completely mortified at his cheek.

Storming down the hall, you pretend not to hear his chuckles.

And you definitely don’t have a smile to match the tingling between your legs.

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #masters of the air #mota #fluff #smut #x reader #john egan #john egan x reader #John Egan smut #callum turner smut #callum turner fluff #john bucky egan x reader

[kafkasmuses]

bucky who very openly manspreads, he always sits down with a grunt, slumping down into the seat with his legs instantly parting from each other. and it’s not like it was a little part, something barely noticeable— no, his legs were spread as far as they could possibly be. buck always gripes at him about it, telling him he looks ‘easy’ in which bucky just scoffs, rolling his eyes and spreading even farther just to annoy buck. 

bucky who reeks of mint, coffee, and the cologne he deems the best ever made, pour un humme. 

bucky who rarely ever gets hurt, but when he does? he loves to put on a show for the nurses, wincing and groaning in pain over something simple like a paper cut, or stumbling into the infirmary with a busted lip after he decided it would be funny to box one of the majors on the british air forces. he’s always flirting, too, saying something cheesy like, “gonna take good care of me, doc?“ 

bucky who makes you call him sir when you’re in the empty barracks with him, as everyone else is attending the bar, he’ll tease and tease you until you’re pathetically begging him for him to fuck you— but you left out the one thing he wanted, making him click his tongue disapprovingly, “please who, huh? you gonna be good for me and call me sir, right?”

bucky who puts his military visor hat on you when you’re riding him, chuckling whenever your thighs shake at the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out, making some idiotic joke like, “tryna ride me like ‘m an airplane, huh, doll-face?” 

#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ #♡ ׂ bucky ៵ 💋 ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ #major john egan #masters of the air #john egan x you #john egan #john egan x reader #john egan x oc #john egan fanfiction #bucky egan #mota smut #mota fanfic #mota #mota spoilers #mota cast #mota edit #mota oc #major john egan x reader #major john egan x oc #bucky egan x reader #bucky egan x oc #callum turner major john bucky egan #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner x reader #callum turner #callum turner imagine #austin butler

[youaintnothinbuta]

could u write something for austin where reader is obsessed with his hair especially when she goes with him on set and they get wet bc he’s sweating too much, and once it turns her on sm that it ends up with him eating her out with her hands buried in them and when it’s too much she pulls it a little harder and austin just loves it

“You're so good at this.” — austin butler x reader

Summary: see request^^

Pairing: austin butler x fem!reader

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, mature language, oral (f receiving), probably typos im sorryyyy

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You stood nervously outside the set of Masters of the Air, clutching your pass, waiting to be let in. Your boyfriend, Austin, was in the middle of filming, and you didn't want be any cause of distraction. His manager, a familiar face to you, greeted you and whispered, “Just slip in quietly, Y/N. They should be done with these takes in about 20 minutes.”

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement, as you followed her onto the set. The lights were blindingly bright, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and costume fabric. You spotted Austin immediately, his chiseled features set in a determined expression as he delivered his lines. His voice too —deep, commanding, and authoritative— it sent shivers down your spine as he barked orders at his fellow actors.

You sat down quietly and out of view of him and any of the other actors. You couldn't help but notice how good he looked, his blonde hair mussed and his eyes gleaming with intensity. The layered costume added bulk to his already impressive physique, and the sweat dripping down his face only added to his sexiness. You felt that familiar fire ignite in your tummy as you watched your man at work. You pressed your thighs firmly together, trying to contain the desire that was building inside you.

After what felt like an eternity, the director called for a lunch break, and immediately the chatter in the room began.

“Austin!” You called. He perked up, a bright smile spreading across his face as he heard your voice, his eyes locking onto yours instantly.

“Baby, hi,” he said, striding towards you with long, purposeful strides.

You smiled, feeling a little shy but also incredibly turned on. You felt a flutter in your chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, pulling you into a gentle kiss.

“I didn't know you were coming today,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Sorry,” he apologised for being sweaty, tugging on his thick coat, “I feel like I’m melting in this thing.”

"I wanted to surprise you," you whispered back, your hands sliding up his chest to toy with the buttons on his costume, “and you look amazing.”

Austin chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Do I?”

You nodded, responding to him. You found yourself getting more and more turned on by Austin's proximity. You could smell the sweat on his skin mixing with his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his body, and see the way his eyes seemed to devour you, and the way his wet hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck. You knew you had to get him alone, and fast.

“How long do you have?” You asked, your words came out heavy, thick with desire.

Austin's eyes narrowed, his pupils dilating with interest. “40 minutes ish, why?”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. “I need you,” you whispered, the words sending a thrill through your entire body.

Austin's eyes flashed with desire, and he pulled back, his face set in a determined expression. “Let's find a quiet spot,” he growled, taking your hand, leading you to his trailer, the door closing behind you with a soft click. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on his knees, his fingers deftly undoing your pants and pulling them down. His mouth closed over your pussy with a hungry growl.

"I've missed you," he said, his voice low and husky. You felt your body respond to his words, your nipples hardening beneath your shirt. His fingers dug into your skin as he pulled your core even closer to his lips.

You moaned as his hot breath washed over your skin, his tongue darting out to taste you. Your hands buried themselves in his hair, the soft strands tangling around your fingers as you pulled him closer.

“Fuck, Austin,” you breathed, your body trembling with pleasure. “You're so good at this.”

He chuckled against your flesh, “I know.”

He groaned, allowing you to feel the vibrations of his vocal cords, his mouth working magic on your clit. He slid his middle finger inside of you, curling upwards as his tongue lapped over your most sensitive spot. You gasped, your body tightening around his finger as he pumped it in and out of you. Your legs began to shake. You felt yourself building towards orgasm, your hands tightening in his hair as you tugged and pulled.

“Yes, baby, like that,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.

Austin loved when you pulled at his hair, and he responded by increasing the pressure, his tongue lashing against you with reckless abandon. You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge, your body coiling tighter and tighter.

You were so close, your body trembling with anticipation. The pleasure was getting too much, you pulled his head back by his hair, when you finally let out a loud cry and came all over his face. Austin groaned, his eyes closed in ecstasy, as you pulsed against his mouth.

He gently pressed his tongue on your clit, allowing you to milk yourself of your orgasm using his face until you were empty.

For a moment, you just sat there, panting and trembling, as Austin slowly got to his feet, his face smeared with your juices. He smiled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, and pulled you into a deep, wet kiss, his saliva and yours mixing with your slick.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice husky.

“I love you too,” you replied, a smile spreading across your face too. Austin's gaze never left yours as he reached for a towel that was draped over the back of a nearby chair. He gently wiped the remnants of your orgasm from his chin. Then, with a gentle touch, he brought the towel between your legs, softly wiping away your fluid. The intimate gesture sent a flutter through your chest, and you felt your heart swell with affection for this man.

As he helped you to your feet, Austin's hands lingered on your waist, his fingers brushing against the skin beneath your shirt. He zipped up the fly of your jeans, then fastened the button with a gentle tug. The simple act felt like a declaration of ownership, a reminder that you belonged to him, and he to you.

“Come on, let’s get food,” Austin said, his voice still thick, as he held your hand, leading you back to the catering area. He handed you a plate and took one for himself, both of you eyeing all the delicious looking food that was provided. Just then, the ten-minute call rang out across the room, a reminder that your break was drawing to a close. Austin's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, his voice low and teasing.

“You’re terrible,” he kissed your temple, pulling your head to his chest, “making me miss out on half my lunch break like that.”

You laughed as you leaned into him, “I’ll return the favour tonight.”

His stomach flipped at your words, he shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Hush,” he teased, shoving a strawberry in your mouth. You bit down innocently, humming with delight at the sweetness.

a/n I know for a fact no one eats pussy like Austin Butler does end of conversation

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austinbutler #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader #austin x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfiction #austin fanfic #austin #austin butler elvis #austin butler feyd rautha #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x yn #dune part two #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune #masters of the air #masters of the air fanfic #austin butler major gale buck cleven #austin Elvis #elvis 2022 #reader x austin butler #you x austin #yn x austin butler #austin x yn #y/n x austin #reader x Austin #yn x elvis presley

[saturnville]

i come to you on my knees (i’m ovulating) BEGGING for a black!fem!reader fic where bucky is the fucking munch he is PLEASE

poetry in motion, major john egan

pairing: john egan x she (black!fem!reader) warning: 18+ sexual situations and descriptions. content: in which john teaches her a thing or two about bodily poetry. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum an: I don't typically write smut, so I hope this met your expectations at least just a little bit.

John Egan was known to be an impulsive man. He acted animalistically, on instinct and emotion rather than logical and thoughtful comprehension. When it came to her, however, he was more meticulous, patient, and calculated. Slow and intentional.

She was like him, an enigma. A code that took much time to decode. The rearranging of pieces (his approach) would occur many times before the lock clicked and fell off the guard box that kept her withdrawn from him. Then a dark door opened and the safe guarded treasure was revealed.

It didn’t come without struggle and resistance. Even upon agreement, she still shuddered at every attempt to pull her soul from her body. Her hands fisted the neutral sheets beneath her as her legs shook like leaves in the wind.

The scene from his perspective was tantalizing. Her eyelids sat low and her brown eyes were hardly visible, but still, he maintained a piercing gaze with her. That, in combination with the impassioned feeling of his mouth against her sensitivity, was overstimulating.

Her stomach clenched as she writhed against the sheets. She sobbed woefully, her nails scraping against his shoulder as she attempted to back away. It was too much.

For just a moment, she got a break. But, it didn’t last long. The dampness of his tongue was replaced by the skin deemed of his fingers. She jolted as her eyes shot open.

John Egan was salacious. Dripping with sensuality and eroticism. Beneath the faint light of the candles, he stood as a shadow above her. He had shed his jacket and was dressed in a wonderfully fitting black t-shirt. His hair was tousled from her constant tugging and his lips. Her eyes rolled backward at the sight. Swollen and dripping.

She sighed his name slowly and closed her legs around his forearm. He shook his head in disapproval and pushed her thighs open with his free hand. “Keep them open.” His voice dripped with arousal. She put up a good fight, but lost when the overwhelming pressure began to boil over.

He was attentive. Her end was near and he knew it. And how desperate he was to bask in it all. Once more, he found his place between her thighs. His eyes trailed the richness of her skin as he gently placed her legs on his shoulders.

She was enticing. From her scent to the way she tasted on his tongue. Sweet and succulent. He found himself getting lost in her pleasure. From the way, she screamed his name and begged for mercy. Oh, how he would pay to stay in this position forever.

“John,” she squealed, sitting up on her elbows. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill. His blue eyes shifted upward to meet hers. “Please…” He hummed. She screamed.

It reverberated against the walls and fueled the fire that burned within him. He’d store it to keep him warm for the rest of eternity.

With a string of whimpers and incoherent words, she came down from the high she rode deliciously. Her bare chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath.

She held her hand out tiredly, desiring his closeness. John wiped his lips with the pad of his thumb and crawled on top of her shuddering frame, dropping kisses against her neck, cheek, then lips. “You okay?”

She grinned tirelessly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She’d waited a long time for a moment like this and she was glad she held out for him. She nodded and pecked his lips again, “I’m okay. I’ll feel better if you do it again…”

John’s eyebrow quipped in amusement. A sultry smile crept on her lips. He said lowly, “Yeah?”

She opened her thighs just enough to slot his body between then engulfed him. Her hands dropped to his pants which were secured by his belt. John’s eyes fell. She nodded, “Yeah.”

Who was he to deny that? Only a fool would do such a thing, and John Egan was no fool.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #masters of the air #mota #major john egan #callum turner major john bucky egan #john egan #john egan smut #john egan x reader #major john egan x reader #major john egan x amelia mae egan #bucky egan x black reader #bucky egan x reader #x black!reader #black!oc #mota fanfic #mota fanfiction #fic inspo

[austinbutlerslovers]

Major Gale Fantasy

(He Racks You Down and Knocks You Up)

The poll on this was so close! 172 votes

The winner 53.5 Sweet and Gentle 💖

VS. 46.5 Hard and Commanding ❤️‍🔥

Thank you for all the votes enjoy!

Major Gale (Austin) is obsessed with the thought of getting you pregnant before he leaves to war. After envisioning you pregnant with his child he goes through great lengths to ensure you conceive.

Label 18+ mature

Established relationship married

Domestic fluff then straight to breeding kink

Smut• fluff • domestic •edging • mutual stimulation •in heat •breeding kink •p in v •mating press •multiple orgasms • cream pie • aftercare

I have no idea what they did in the 40s or how they really speak 😊 just go with it it’s cute

Inspiration: Austin butler looking so seductive in that uniform

(Historically Inaccurate spelling errors, grammatical mistakes, repeat words etc)

Master List

He Racks You Down & Knocks You Up

You were putting the finishing touches on your dish a beautiful roast chicken with vegetables. The cherry pie was warming in the oven Gale would be home any minute. You briskly walk to the wash room and click on the lights. Your makeup kit readily available near the wash basin. You reach in and pull out your favorite rouge lip stick marking up your lips and dabbing some on your cheeks.

You coif up your hair staring at yourself in the mirror and run a hand down your dress blowing a kiss like a pin up girl, you look ravishing.

Even more risqué was the idea to wear a fastener corset under your form fitting dress tonight putting your décolleté on full display.

Your legs were caged by thigh straps holding up your stockings and satin panties covering your derrière rubbing deliciously against your heat.

Gale said to get yourself a treat, and now it’s a treat for him too. He would be deploying after all and you wanted to give him an experience he would never forget to write home about.

At that thought you hear his key in the front door and hurry back into the living room to greet him. He turns the knob and steps in slipping the key into his pocket as his tall frame ducks into the door way. He removes his officers hat and hangs it on the entry way rack.

His handsome features always stun you at first glance. His big blue eyes and wispy lashes, his perfectly angular nose, firm chin and plump lips. He is an absolute dream especially in uniform. His suitcase in one hand and jacket draped on the other, he finally locks eyes with you and your heart flutters. He is slack jawed in return admiring how perfectly pretty you look in this moment.

“Well well well let me get a good look at you doll, do a little spin for me” his deep rich voice breaking the silence as his eyes admire your form.

You twirl around on your toes smiling as you trace your hands along your bodice enjoying the corset hidden beneath. You blush once your eyes meet, he has a seduced look on his face. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, let me settle my things and come appreciate you.” he flashes his flirtatious grin.

He hangs his coat and sets his suit case by the door he struggles to unbutton the top neck of his military shirt but you are right there to assist him lifting on your tiptoes brushing up against him and easily prying the button open with your smaller fingers.

The closeness makes you swoon for each other. He stares into your eyes before taking a peek down at your breasts resting against his chest, a naughty smirk plays across his face. You place your hands delicately on the nape of his neck and trace your fingers lightly over his sensitive skin there giving him goosebumps.

He looks back into your eyes as you stare up at him seductively through your lashes, his breathing increases as passion begins to cloud his thoughts “Gosh I’ve missed you” he nearly whispers it staring at your sultry red lips going directly in for the kiss. Your lips meet passionately and he scoops you into his arms lifting you from the floor.

Feeling his strength and the smell of his cologne arouses you completely. You are overtaken by his presence feeling so safe in his strong arms. You kiss across his lips as he holds you up to his chest. He begins rubbing his soft plush lips back against yours the sexual tension stifling you both. He slowly sets you back to the ground holding fast to your waist with every intention of taking you to the bedroom and having his way with you.

His lips are the beautiful rouge color that you imprinted on him. “Oh my” you say covering your mouth with one hand “What is it darling?“ he asks holding you to him by your waist brushing his hand across your cheek. He’s mesmerized by you, the way he’s staring into your eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

“I..I.. have gotten my lipstick all over you…let me clean you up and come! I’ve made a wonderful supper for you” you pipe up as you regain your thoughts, so proud of yourself for making one of his favorite meals.

He takes your hand and you lead him to the dining room table. He sits in his designated seat at the head taking the time to unlace his shoes and remove his socks setting them in the corner. You arrange his plate and set his dinner in front of him. It is a beautiful display of herb roasted chicken breast, mashed russet potatoes layered in gravy and sautéed green peas.

As his eyes settle in delight on the meal you prepared for him you slip away to the liquor cabinet fetching his favorite brandy. You pour it in one of the set glasses on the shelf and bring it to place next to him on the table. You grab a cloth from the kitchen drawer and soak it in the sink coming back to dab the lipstick off his lips and wipe his hands clean. He smiles at you appreciatively.

You both begin to eat. He cuts into the delicate chicken and takes a bite. His eyes close and he nods enjoying the taste, opening his eyes looking to you admiringly to show his approval. You gush knowing just how much he loves your home cooked meals after a long day on base.

You really can’t focus on your meal watching him eat. As a fully grown man he still looks so adorable as he chews. He’s slender yet toned and you love to see him full it melts your heart. You begin to eat in small bites, enjoying each others company and the meal.

You finish first with your smaller portions and he clears his plate soon after. You collect the dishes and rinse them in the sink

Feeling sated he completely unbuttons his shirt taking it off and hanging it over the back of his chair. Now in a white undershirt and tan military slacks, he rests back holding his glass of brandy slowly sipping it down watching you work.

You fidget with the oven turning it off and opening the door. The smell of the hot pie wafting through the kitchen. You grab your mits removing the pie from the oven and placing it on the stove top. You blow a strand of loose hair falling in your face the heat from the oven making you perspire slightly. You are in an odd state today feeling so sensual wearing the expensive lingerie.

Gale is set back watching the whole thing you bent over your breasts spilling out of your dress. The flash of the back of your thighs to him when your dress lifts as you reach into the oven.

He suddenly has a vision of you mixing pancake batter in the kitchen. You’re wearing a satin gown hair pinned up loosely in a bun your belly big and round growing with his child. His heart skips a beat as you whisk the mixture placing your hand on your hip to support your back. He imagines himself standing behind you planting a kiss on your head inhaling your scent and gently squeezing his hands around your breasts which will soon be full with milk.

He delicately places his hands down around the front of you to embrace your womb. Once he touches it an intensity fires in him of pure unyielding love for you. It infatuates him so strongly he is unable to keep his hands away from your pregnant belly. He begins passionately kissing behind your ear and down your neck completely obsessed with you having his child.

He was so deep in his thought he didn’t notice you trying to get his attention until you sweetly asked him again “Is everything alright?”

He palms himself under the table his cock growing stiff with anticipation of fulfilling his desires. He smiles at you nodding reassuringly taking another big swig of his brandy and setting his empty glass down.

He then pushes away from the table in his chair setting his sights on you and spreading his legs wordlessly patting his lap for you to sit. You notice the change in his gaze, how his pupils have dilated, how his eyes are fixated on you. It’s such a sultry look you don’t know what’s gotten into him.

You approach his lap and try to sit pretty with your legs together but he grabs hold of your waist pulling you to straddle him. It makes your heart flutter from the abrupt closeness. He looks into your eyes with a coy smile wondering if you can feel his rock hard erection pressing against you yet.

Taking his left hand he softly runs it across the nape of your neck moving your hair over one shoulder, trailing his hand down your spine. He begins unbuttoning your dress with both hands looking you directly in the eyes, each pop of a button making the excitement of having you naked increases.

He unbuttons your dress down to your waist and slowly pulls it from your shoulders to reveal your chest. His eyes lock on the delicate lace covering your décolleté. He pulls your dress farther and his mouth falls open in delight at your breasts in lingerie on full display for him. “All this for me?” He asks staring intently at your chest he caresses the soft fabric covering your nipples “Yes of course” you answer your voice soft from arousal.

He tweaks your nipples making them stiff then gently squeezes them with his fingers he looks up to gauge your reaction. It makes you part your lips wanting to cry out, you clench inside involuntarily pressing your heat against his stiff cock. He has a smile on his face sensing exactly what you need. He begins grinding his hips up gently rocking his massive erection against you. It’s so naughty and good at the same time a high moan escapes your lips as you double over onto him wanting more.

He grabs ahold of you by your arms pressing you down on him and grinding against you harder. He’s so strong and resolute with his actions it has you breathlessly panting and dizzy for him building an ache inside you that needs relief.

Seeing your face flush as your breathing increases he pulls you to him and plants kisses along your exposed neck and jaw line. The smell of you is devine to him he reaches and grabs the base of your neck tilting your head back farther to kiss his open mouth along your throat, It makes you close your eyes and grind back onto him the feeling so good building between your legs you don’t want him to stop.

He pulls back his lips from your neck and stares into your eyes as you grind each other fully clothed completely drunk in love “I want to fill you up tonight” he says kissing your lips and you taste the brandy “ I want to satisfy you completely” he kisses your neck again. Then he places his hand on your stomach “I want my baby growing inside of you” his voice almost a hush full of so much contained passion.

You grab onto the back of his neck pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes “Yes…Gale please fill me and get me pregnant tonight ” your voice shakes with anticipation. The way he’s making you feel between your legs has your mind reeling as you grind against him with your panties absolutely soaked.

Hearing your words he slowly picks you up from his lap and gently places you to stand in front of him. He rises from the chair and removes his shirt then unbuttons and unzips his pants before unbuckling his belt. As he releases the leather his pants fall to the floor and the buckle clatters. You stare in awe at his massive erection strained back against his woven boxers shorts.

“Finish showing me that lingerie doll “ his deep voice breaks the silence redirecting your thoughts. He sits back into his chair spreading his legs and placing a hand on his cock to watch you. He wants to thoroughly enjoy the surprise you have for him.

You turn your back to him and peer over your shoulder. His eyes are completely fixated on you as you slide the dress down from your shoulders to the floor bending over to show him your black silk panties as you deliberately step out of it. You turn around to face him and he sits back in awe of your beautiful body.

The black silk bra and panties with the corset elaborate your curves, accentuating your hips and chest in the most delicious way. You begin swaying your hips and tracing your hands over your body as if they are his own giving him a show of how badly you need him.

He stands up from his seat and slides his boxers down stepping out of them his large cock slinging as he walks toward you. Your knees buckle a little as you hold the table behind you bracing yourself in anticipation.

He reaches for your corset and begins quickly unsnapping the clasps rocking your body as he looses each one. The corset breaks free and falls to the floor. He easily picks you up by your waist and sets you down on the dinner table.

Your legs are wide open and he eagerly moves himself to stand between them. He grabs you by your hips pulling you flush against him kissing you passionately parting your lips with his tongue his cock caged between your navels. Hes trying to go slow but his mind is racing with the thought of feeling your tightness squeeze around him as he’s pumping you full of his seed.

He refocuses on your pleasure placing his hands on the sides of your breast softly rubbing into your silk brassiere pressing your nipples up and down with his thumbs . A moan escapes you into his mouth everything he’s doing sending pleasurable sensations where you need to be touched the most. You begin winding your hips in small circles on the table to relieve the tension.

He senses your need as the heat is now emitting from your body your eyes pleading him for more. He takes a step back noticing his empty liquor glass behind you on the table and takes it safely to the sink.

As he returns to stand between your legs he places his hands behind your head lovingly holding your gaze. “I would do anything for you” he says softly his heart swelling wanting to make you his forever, the vision of you pregnant with his child burning in his mind. “I’m going to push you over the edge tonight I want to spill my seed into you and I want you to take it all for me”

You stare at him drunk from arousal your heart is pounding so hard you feel the strongest pulses in your pelvis you'll to do anything to make him tear your lingerie off and take you now.

“I want to hear you say it “ he says noticing you are not able to focus on his words.

You regain some composure to respond

“I will take it all tonight every drop you give me” you loosely repeat his words too distracted now staring at his perfectly chiseled naked body down to his large veiny erect cock wondering how good it will feel when he fills you up for the first time instead of pulling out.

“I’ll give you what you need “ he says with a coy smile knowing you’re not paying attention anymore. He’s never seen you so riled up, it warms him seeing you want his baby so badly it’s giving you a fever.

He places his hand on your chest pushing you down to lay flat on the table. He grabs your thighs and slides you down to him your heat directly against his cock your legs on either side of his waist. Your breathing quickens and your heart skips you need him inside of you he has you exposed in the perfect position on the table like you are his meal.

He brushes his hand against your silk panties admiringly not wanting to remove them just yet. His touch there alone makes you feel like he’s set a fire all over your body.

He reaches his fingers between your legs hooking your panties rubbing his knuckles against your slick folds. Your back arcs from the table as you restrain yourself from grinding against his fingers so aroused and needing to be touched so badly you begin panting loudly unable to calm down.

He knows you need him now and quickly pulls your panties to the side. His cock is pulsing hard as he rests it on your wet entrance, it’s covered in a silky liquid so he rubs his tip up through it and groans as you moan not thinking it would feel so good. He looks down into your eyes now needing you too, he lines himself up and slowly pushes inside your tight entrance.

You both cry out in a pleasurable moan his cock guiding in perfectly your walls greedily sucking him in. He penetrates you inch by inch making you gasp as the stretch becomes wider.

He gently caresses your pelvis making you feel the pressure of how far he’s gotten inside. You are impossibly more wet as his cock is going in.

He stares down at you in admiration when you finally take his full length. He stays still inside you for a moment letting you adjust. You feel so full of him, the pleasure coursing through your entire body as you try to focus gazing up at him.

He begins to work you gently, sliding himself halfway out and fully back in. His cock becoming completely covered in your slick making you feel every sensation as he begins gliding in and out it’s already earning the sweetest moans out of you.

You close your eyes as he begins rocking into your body against the table each thrust making your heart want to explode. Your continuous moans are music to his ears he stares at the reaction on your pretty face while you take him the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

He has a drive to impregnate you tonight that he’s never had before. He wants to paint your walls inside and make you cry out for him before he finishes. It makes him high at the thought.

He releases his hands from your waist and hoists your legs up holding onto the back of your thighs spreading you like a “V” he pushes slowly into you on the table the new angle he’s hitting makes you delirious with pleasure he has you in a mating press and it sparks something deep inside you that tightens your core making it feel like it will snap at any moment.

Hes going so much deeper using your legs as leverage, he wants to feel you all the way through he presses his length the farthest and touches his cock head against the deepest part inside you making you moan out incredibly loud for him. He loves that feeling and thrusts into it repeatedly wanting his strongest and deepest ejaculation there.

You begin to feel hotter against his throbbing cock he keeps rocking you back and forth on his length jostling you on the table. He’s working into you with so much virility youre seeing stars. You are so overwhelmed with passion you can’t even think straight each hit pressing the exact button inside to cause a riot in your core. He pauses at the end of his deepest thrusts feeling like he will split you, your body tenses your voice in your ears sounding so foreign as you moan in an unending rhythm, the tightness building inside your core finally snaps.

A relief washes over you as your back arcs from the table your walls flutter tightly around him as liquids pour from your core squishing around his cock as you scream for him. It makes him start sliding into you at breeding speed. He thrusts into you deeper and harder your legs bouncing around at each strong jolt. His abs tighten as he is sucks in breaths through his teeth.

He presses your legs back farther grunting and angling his cock pressing his deepest inside you it pushes him over the edge “Im going to cum so deep in you …take it …all for me” he says through clenched teeth he pushes forward all the way into you and spills thick ropes of hot cum deep inside you painting your walls. He leans forward between your legs heavily breathing from exertion, laying on top of you and propping up lightly on his elbows he holds your face as he continues to empty every last drop inside to get you pregnant. His final thrust hits so deep you squeeze his cock with your walls a second time and moan for him almost crying at how good it makes you feel. You stare at each other panting and sweating you both start spontaneously laughing deliriously high with a sudden surge of endorphins.

As you calm down he stays completely still inside of you laying on top. Propped on his elbows he holds your head lovingly. He pets your hair back and stares into your beautiful eyes “I think we did it” he says suddenly as if the thought was ruminating in his mind . You smile at him “I’ve never felt anything like that” you admit gently stroking his sweaty hair from his face in return. He leans in and kisses your chest just at your heart, he loves you completely. He puts his ear on your chest listening for your heart beat to slow down so he can pull out saftey. When your breathing and heart rate decrease he lifts his chest off on yours.

“Are you ready?” He asks adjusting himself to pull out of you “yes” you say completely void of thought only how wonderful you feel. He holds your upper thighs and slides his cock out slowly when he pulls out the head you both moan from the loss of contact. Slowly you feel his seed trickling out of you. His eyes grow wide and he uses his fingers to push it back inside you. You lift your head to see as he pushes more back in and cups his hand to hold it. “put your legs up” he says quickly thinking. You put your legs up and hold them to your chest.

“How long?” You ask giggling this whole concept so foreign to you “I don’t know but until it takes” he laughs at how absurd he sounds. He grabs a wash cloth and rinses his hands. He turns to check on you and doesn’t like the way you are curled up on the table you look so uncomfortable.

He comes to your side and scoops you into his arms he easily carries you to the bedroom and kicks the door open walking you to the bed and laying you down. It’s so much softer and comfortable for you. He pets your head “ that’s much better “ he says seeing your face relax. He runs to get a washcloth and soaks it with water.

When he returns your still with your knees up. He kneels on the bed in front of you “You can put your knees down now you’ve been so good for me” he says gently as he caresses your thighs. He doesn’t see any more cum spill out of you so he starts undressing you. He uses his hands to slide your panties off with your stockings and fasters. As you lower your legs down he pats and wipes you carefully. He climbs on top of you reaching around your back and unclasping your bra you sit up and pull it off discarding it at the foot of the bed with your panties. He stares at you now fully naked glowing so radiantly from sex. He pulls the covers down behind you and you lift up to pull the covers back over you both as he lays beside you. He kisses your temple staring at the side of you face deep in thought about how much he loves you. He places his and on your stomach thinking about how much he wants his baby growing there, you place your hand on top of his

“honey?” He asks shyly a new thought popping into his head “ yes ” you answer sweetly “I …want to keep those panties with me when I deploy” he divulges.

You blush thinking of what he wants to do with them “Alright I’ll do them with the laundry then the day before you deploy I’ll wear them all day and slip them in your pocket when I kiss you goodbye.” He smiles so big and squeezes you to him. “ I would like that” he says whispering in your ear and kissing it. “And Gale” you ask “yes?” He answers intrigued “I want to write you when I find out if I’m pregnant…” you turn and look into his love filled eyes he wants that more than anything. You kiss his forehead and he tilts your face lower to him and kisses your lips. You reach over his head and click the light off you both rest your eyes and he keeps his hand on your stomach the entire night as you sleep.

~*To Be Continued*~

#austin butler smut #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut fic #smut #fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler x fem!reader #austinbutler #austin butler fandom #austin butler x you #austin butler reader #austin butler imagine #austinbutler x #MastersoftheAir #masters of the air #masters of the air smut #mota fic #mota #mota fanfic #major gale cleven

[floralcyanide]

ɪғ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪs ᴡʀᴏɴɢ, I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ — ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴊᴏʜɴ “ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ” ᴇɢᴀɴ (Part Two)

john “bucky” egan x fem!reader (nsfw)

You finally have that dinner Dr. Egan promised.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23-25, Bucky is in his 40s), smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, face riding, cum eating

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: as requested, here is the second part of the fic part of the series!! I hope yall enjoy (:

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

based on this song | (If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Wanna Be Right - Barbara Mandrell

(the use of "Dr. Egan" is dropped by pov towards the end of the fic.)

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You’re very much aware of Dr. Egan’s eyes on you, drinking in your appearance. You had decided on a nicer dress for the dinner that your superior had promised. And ever since you’ve arrived at the table he had reserved, his eyes have done nothing but wander. You couldn’t help but stare as well, admiring the patch of chest revealed by Dr. Egan’s button-down. He had some graying hair there, and from what you could see, he was still very toned. Dr. Egan had let his hair be natural today without much product, and it curled stunningly. You wanted so badly to run your hands through it. You had not forgotten why he had offered dinner in the first place. And apparently, neither had he. After you had finished your meals and glasses of wine, you felt a hand on your knee.

“What do you say we get out of here?”

So here you are, walking into Dr. Egan’s home yet again. This time, the purpose is different, and the tension is thick. He walks over to the record player and puts on something before sitting on the couch. He pats a hand on his thigh, motioning for you to sit. You nervously walk over to where Dr. Egan sits and slowly perch yourself on his thigh. His hands find your hips, comfortably massaging your flesh through the fabric of your dress. You look down at him- there’s a small smile resting on his face and something gleaming in his eye.

You boldly take hold of Dr. Egan’s face, eagerly pressing your lips to his. You can feel his light stubble underneath your palms. He moves you up further along his thigh until your knee is flush against him, and the contact makes him groan into the kiss quietly. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue through Dr. Egan’s lips, battling him for dominance. You willingly let him take over, nearly jumping out of your skin when he presses your hips down against his leg. But your shock is quickly replaced with pleasure as Dr. Egan guides your body against his thigh. The movement of your hips brings your knee into his slowly hardening bulge at a delicious angle. 

“Just like that,” Dr. Egan sighs, “So pretty sitting on my thigh like this.”

“I’d be prettier sitting somewhere else,” you say out loud, not entirely meaning to.

But your words hang in the air like a promise.

Dr. Egan pauses his movements, his grip stilling on your hips, “Like where?”

You gulp, bravely running your hands across his face and through his hair, “Here.”

“My face?” Dr. Egan smirks, and you feel your ears burn.

“Yes,” you bite your lip, “Is that okay?”

“Couldn’t imagine anything finer,” Dr. Egan grins, moving you off his lap so you could stand up and he could lay down on the couch.

He takes a pillow and shoves it under his head as he makes himself comfortable, his hand reaching out for yours, “Ready?”

You slip your fingers underneath the band of your underwear, letting it slide down your legs before you step out of them and your shoes. You carefully climb over Dr. Egan’s face, planting your knees on the sides of the pillow as you hover. He grabs your thighs, pulling you down flush against his mouth, where his tongue immediately darts out to lick a stripe up your slit. 

“So wet already? All for me, hmm?”

“All for you, Dr. Egan.”

He pulls away momentarily, “I told you to call me John, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, wiggling your hips against his nose, “Okay, John.”

John hums contently as he laps up your wetness, moving his tongue to swirl your essence around your clit before he suckles it gently, making you moan quietly. He does the action again, suckling a little harder to make you moan louder. He succeeds, and your hips buck against his face as you grow louder with every sharp suck of your bundle of nerves. John starts fucking you with his tongue, letting his nose prod your clit. as you ride his face without shame. Your fingers grip his curly hair harshly as John eats you like he’s starving, and your cunt is his first meal in forever. You feel yourself growing close to the edge as the older man doesn’t let up on eating you out.

“I’m close,” you warn, panting as you snap your shaky hips forward.

John moves his head from side to side, flattening his tongue against your clit as he brings you to your orgasm. You feel yourself gush on his tongue as you ride his face slowly, letting your orgasm fizzle into a high. John licks you clean of your cum and arousal, despite your mewls of overstimulation. 

“Your turn,” you say, catching your breath as you climb off John’s face and settle on his lap.

You palm him through his dress pants, causing him to grab your wrist.

“I wanna ride something else now, John,” you say, a mischievous smile taking over your features, “Is that okay?”

John’s grip on your wrist loosens, and he allows you to unzip his pants and pull him out of them. You lazily stroke him a few times before moving up on his lap, gathering your wetness on the tip of his length before slowly pushing onto it. John hisses at the feeling of you enveloping him, your cunt swallowing every inch of him greedily. His hands grip your hips as you take him fully. 

“Been thinking about this view for a while,” John admits, and you can’t help but smile.

“Really?’ you ask, letting yourself adjust to the feeling of him inside you before pulling off and slamming back down, “How is it?”

“Fuck,” John curses, “It’s good, very good.”

His hands move to squeeze your breasts through your dress, and much to John’s delight, you aren’t wearing a bra underneath. His thumbs brush over your pebbled nipples as you gain a steady rhythm, rocking yourself against his hips. John runs his hands all over your clothed body, wishing he could see you naked. But he’s too distracted by the dragging of your walls along his length to think about doing anything else. 

“I’m glad to impress you, John. Or should I say Dr. Egan?”

John growls lowly at that, snapping his hips upward to match your pace. 

“I hope my performance is everything you hoped for,” you tease, your hands finding the buttons to his shirt and popping them open. You let your palms move across his chest, your nails grazing the hair that scatters the expanse of it. 

“Never thought I’d see the day that my star pupil would be riding me,” John plays along to your professor-student comment, “I’d like it even better if she came on my cock like the good girl she is.”

Your moans are audible by now, the pleasure becoming too much to remain silent. The feeling of your older counterpart hitting your cervix dead-on is dizzying. Your nails start to press into the skin of John’s chest as you feel your second orgasm creeping up into your abdomen. You raise your stuttering hips up almost entirely off of John’s body before pushing back down as hard as possible, fucking him with what energy you have left. 

“You relax, baby. I got the rest,” John flips the two of you over, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder as he pounds into you.

This maneuver takes you by surprise, but you allow him to take you on the couch like you dreamed of ever since you felt that spark between you. You never would have guessed your pursuit for your M.A. would end up like this, but the feeling of you sinking deeper into the couch with every thrust makes it worth it. John feels himself losing control as your cunt flutters around him, on the edge of convulsion as your orgasm begins to take hold. You cry out, gripping John’s biceps as you feel him hit the spot inside you perfectly, and it sends you to the point of no return. You cum around him hard, causing him to finally spill inside you with a groan. 

You’re gasping for air as John pulls out of you, rushing to the restroom for a hand towel to clean you with. He’s gentle and waits for you to come back to Earth on your own time.

“You alright, doll?”

You nod, putting a hand on his cheek as he leans down to give a soft kiss on the lips.

“I just thought I’d remind you your thesis is due to me next week,” John cracks a smile, and you throw the pillow behind your head at him.

“Ruined it,” you roll your eyes, “Ruined my high, John. But thanks for the reminder.”

Then you realize you have another year and a half to spend working alongside John- Dr. Egan. And you wonder how that will work out after all of this.

#mota #masters of the air #masters of the air au #john bucky egan #john egan #bucky egan #john bucky egan x reader #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #masters of the air fanfic #callum turner #callum turner x reader #john bucky egan smut #john bucky egan x reader smut #john egan smut #john egan x reader smut #bucky egan smut #bucky egan x reader smut #floralcyanide writes

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: yes…Virgin!Gale + Maureen/Gale bonding

Universe: Friends in the Crucible (pacific au)

Summary: “Get laid, Buck.” Doc Egan prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve your jitters better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

Warnings: all the sex! 18+.|| both tender and feral || Doc Egan being a unorthodox but loving menace, a theme of ptsd and body tremors/insomnia -poor Gale is going through it after a whole war, drug mentions, erectile disfunction, Maureen is aggressive but everything’s consensual, usage of the word “Jap”. Graphic descriptions of Gale’s virginity loss, male overstimulation and an amusing amount of thought given to Bucky’s existence during the act … im sure that won’t lead to anything when Maureen returns to base and reports to Egan about it, right? Hahaha of course not, that would be craaazy

Word count: 10k

“Buck, come on now, it’s not a prison sentence, it’s just a little time off.”

“I don’t need time off.” Gale reiterated, a panicked sort of fierceness creeping into his tone as his appeal now stretched into something longer than the usual flippant favors Egan was customarily so eager to dole out.

“Those hands suggest ya do.” John gave a not unkind glance of sympathy at the twitching fingers rattling on the armrests of Cleven’s chair.

12 rescue missions in 15 days. Flying upwards of ten hours each. He’d done worse before, but then again, that had been when he was fresh, younger, less banged up from the head hitting the cockpit wall.

“Sending me to go watch flamingos and contemplate sand or some shit isn’t gonna make me steadier.” Gale very much feared his gripes were beginning to sound like begs, “Don’t send me off like this. Don’t.”

“Petrified of flamingos?” John hummed, glancing down at his chart as if contemplating making a note of this new malady, “Maybe if your dad had taken you to a zoo once or twice as a kid you’d not be scared stiff of the prospect.”

Cleven stared back at him with the most hurt eyes John had ever seen. He balled his own fist up to remember the rightness of his point, even if he’d delivered it about as clumsily as a marriage proposal at a funeral. “The hell would you say something like that?” Buck whispered, not even angry, just utterly lost.

“Buck, I’m just sayin’ -inability to slow or be alone, it’s classic symptoms of battle fatigue.”

“I don’t wanna sit on a beach when I could be helping, I’m perfectly capable of still helping! You know it!”

“But you can’t sleep.” John circled back to where this all began, with Gale asking if there was anything to knock a fella out when 82 hours of insomnia wasn’t sufficiently exhausting.

“Give me something, you’re a doctor! Goddamnit, John!” Gale finally broke, voice raising and fists clenched.

“Surgeon, technically.” John gave him a wane smile, “And I can’t dope up an active pilot.”

“Just an active surgeon.” Gale sneered, tit for tat on the insults.

John nodded grimly but murmured, “The day Gale Cleven becomes John Egan is a day this whole operation can pack up and go home.”

“So you're being the better man,” Gale scoffed, “-sending me to watch flamingos.”

“I’m not givin’ you shit.“ he confirmed, “Unless it’s an assignment.”

“Will it keep me outta the flak asylum?”

“If you comply to all the regulations, maybe.” Egan shrugged.

“Go on?”

“Get laid, Buck.” his friend prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve you better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

“That’s your ultimatum?”

“No, no, my ultimatum is that you go on a little sabbatical with one of my nurses, she’ll keep an eye on you and you can make yourself useful, helping her unload heavy shit at the aid station they’re setting up at Peleliu. My recommendation is that when she comes into your room at the end of the day and drops her knickers, you lay back and think of Wyoming.”

Major Cleven had thought of a million and one ways to bribe or ally the prospective nurse to his side of the deal once he knew which unfortunate female Egan was going to pick for this deplorable detail. Calling his friend a pimp and a bastard had done little good, threatening malpractice and a hardness of heart towards Gale’s own principles -even less. So Gale figured when the time came he’d just gently turn the well meaning comfort gal away and maybe pay her off to lie that they’d done it: for his hand’s sake.

After all, if she was willing to do this, was she even a nurse or was she someone Bucky dressed up in Red Cross arm bands like some sleazy fantasy? Gale didn’t think any of the nurses he’d encountered would be willing to go along with such a sordid “assignment.” Sure, some of them were -carefree. Indulgent. Easy, as the men sometimes called them before getting a stinging cheek that proved them wrong. But they were a proud bunch and they had earned it.

Rolling a toothpick in his cheek, Buck pondered these things while sat on the bench of a Goony Bird waiting for his nurse to hop into the cargo hold with him and off they’d go to Pelilu. The situation was made worse by the suspense of who it might be and the insulting foreignness of being on a plane but not piloting. It made Gale feel an odd sort of feeling close to self pity that he hadn’t felt in ages, not since he was a kid and the nostalgia of it wrung him out of all energy. He made himself sit on that metal bench motionless as the heat index rose on the tarmac and made up a fun little game involving trying to see if he could get his hands to stop tremoring for five seconds straight.

So far he’d lost his own wager each time. He told himself if he could make it to five seconds then the nurse Bucky had sent would be a gray haired matron and this really was just a sabbatical to lift boxes and breathe ocean air and get Gale to laugh at himself.

Then Maureen Kendeigh climbed into the hold and squeezed past their cargo of medicine crates and plopped down right next to him, leg bumping his and breathing like a race horse. “I have jogged here the entire way from administration.” she wheezed, tugging at the collar of her shirt where her glistening throat was bobbing in thirst. “Sorry I’m so late, Major. Am I late?”

It could have been Bucky sat next to him: the choice of phrasing was so familiar, the damnable ability to force forgiveness for tardiness with a single smile so predictable. Gale found dread knotting his stomach at the realization it would be her, even as a warmth spread all over him at her sweet presence that had the odd effect of steadying his hands despite the panicked fuzz of his brain at her proximity.

Oh he didn’t want this. No, no, no. He’d like to think of Maureen very much apart, apart from anything but her heroism, not her wide spread stance on the bench beside him or the idea of her dropping her knickers and making him think of Wyoming. He preferred her very much not attainable in the deeper ways and very much not what he saw himself with when all this was over. Whatever she and Doc Egan had was between them and he’d held it up like a shield to keep himself in check, a boy's code of honor about not encroaching on his friend’s girl. Even if said friend didn’t have the decency to make said girl “his” girl.

But to have Maureen dished up to him on a platter by John when John must have suspected some of Gale’s appreciation for her professional merits -it was somehow worse than any dressed up floozy or the easy new intern. He’d not be able to pay Maureen off without insulting her. Or outing Egan’s intent. Maybe she didn’t know. What if Gale spilled the beans and she was as harmless as himself? What if—

“God, Major, did you sleep at all?” Maureen’s steady fingers were gripping his expressionless face and suddenly turned him towards her, one thumb swiping a tender crescent in his under eyes.

Gale’s eyes seemed to forget blinking was a thing, they grew wide and stayed wide at her inspection and the sandy wind blowing in from the tarmac stung at them as they dried out. “No,” he found his voice and it came out more winded than hers, “you’re not late.” he lied.

Once they get to the island, touchdown and unload, there’s then three hours of driving around the pitted old warzone to the aid station. There’s more foliage the more they go, less mortar pitted earth, but the increasing tropical paradise surroundings put Gale on edge. Maureen drives them to their unexplored destination as confident and recklessly as Bucky would, little surprise there. Gale can’t help glancing at her with unabashed amusement for the way she keeps her pistol propped on top of the steering wheel with one grip, facing out like a top turret for their hood, while keeping the map balanced on her thigh.

He cradles his own BAR with loose arms, ready to use it. Sure they secured the island months ago, but still, not infrequently some Jap comes out of his hiding hole, a cave, or whatever fucking tree he resides in and surrenders. Or, conversely, some of them have charged with guns blazing or sword drawn, deciding to go out and a bang of glory and take with them whichever hapless American happens to be nearby. That Emperor worship shit ain’t happening on on Gale’s watch, and so Maureen gets to drive -she didn’t have to beg like that, he was going to let her- and he shoulders the duty of keeping his eyes peeled for the next bush becoming animate and running at them, pulled pin grenade in hand.

“Some relaxation.” he jokes as their jeep lurches into another crater. If it’s not the bomb pits it’s the massive roots crawling over the smashed earth the Marine Corps call a road.

“It’s a reverse strategy!” she informs, grin wide as a shark’s and Gale could almost draw a little pencil mustache above that top lip and pretend it’s Bucky torturing him thus -hey, that might be a good mode of thought to keep everything strictly professional- “Like when nothing else works, you kick the broken thing.” Gale politely ignores the urge to argue about being broken, that’s not her point… he hopes, “You’re all shook up,” she goes on, voice raised to be heard over the rev of her driving, “and calm hasn’t worked, so why not shake you up worse?!”

He squints at her, fully aware he isn’t being chummy like she is trying to be, knowing he’s being a stick in the mud but he’s dying under the uncertainty, chafing under the pretense. Does she know? Or does she not? Five times today he’s resisted the urge to slap her chest like he would Demarco’s and ask her levelly, man to man, if she knows. “If this doesn’t work then what?” he asks anyway, sober as hell despite the comedic jostling and even Maureen’s joviality dims in the face of his dour mood.

“Then we’ll have to get real unorthodox.” she replies, allowing something close to annoyance at his attitude to seep into her own expression and Gale refuses to pull his eyes off her.

Do you know? He wants to ask.

“Stop scowling at me and watch for Japs.” she snaps at him so suddenly and so heated he genuinely spooks and turns his body back towards their horizon.

It’s worse than he thought. Worse than he imagined on the times he lost the bet with his hands and let his mind go somewhere besides a practical joke from Bucky and a gray haired spinster nurse as his companion. The aid station is on the edge of the new camp, far off enough to be genuinely secluded from both sights and smells of the navy station. It’s a tiki hut, thatched roof and swinging mesh door and lovely little veranda and palm trees and waves lapping up the back steps.

It looks like the sorta place people advertise for honeymoons and Gale stares at it with a 100 yard stare once Maureen grinds the gears to park.

“Jesus.” he knows his mouth is curling in disgust and beside him Maureen huffs in disgust with him.

She jumps out of her side of the jeep, not a shred of amusement left on her face. Gale sits and stares and listens to the roar of surf and the clinking of the cooling engine.

“Not bad.” she grunts under the burden of a crate which Gale should be lifting if he could just make his legs work and his mind obey. “But I bet it’s gonna be a bitch to keep the gnats out though, so much foliage around.”

Her hips sway like a tantalizing pendulum when she jogs up the bungalow stairs, her waist somehow accentuated by the way her arms are lifted to keep the crate hoisted on her strong shoulder and Gale has the perfect seat to watch it. How did he never notice the lines on her before she was doing hard labor? Then he recalls, she’s mostly been in flight suits around him, he’s never seen her paired down to collared shirts and belted pants. How’d he never notice the lines on that gi-

“Don’t make me drive this thing in the surf to wake you up.” her slap on his listless forearm rouses him to realize she’s back out at the jeep, standing beside him looking at him as he sits here catatonic like the mental case he’s showing symptoms of being. “And take your jacket off, you’re gonna get overheated being so formal.”

“Are you in on it?” he snaps suddenly as she grins at him over his first crate. He can’t tell if she’s mocking him or not but he’s damn tired of it.

“In on what?” Her face falls.

He can’t do it. He just can’t do it and he hates himself for being such a coward. “This.” he chooses vagueness and it tastes foreign and awful on his tongue.

“It’s a week out of the cockpit in paradise, Cleven,” Maureen’s own expression holds back no disdain for his pissy attitude, “man the hell up.”

What Maureen, Gale and five other technicians had loaded into the jeep and it’s buggy in the course of two hours, takes the mere two of them close to four to unload. And that’s even with Gale keeping a rapid pace to his work like a sweating maniac, feverishly wanting to stop thinking for once. His jacket and shirt are thrown over the chairs that are actually provided as furniture in the place and Maureen’s tie lays discarded on the accompanying desk. The rooms are bare but there’s two beds in the bedroom with crisp sheets that have only a bit of pollen dusting them and there’s a desk, as mentioned, three chairs in the main room and Maureen insists they can use crates for a table.

The back room is for the actual medical aid, and Maureen insists nothing gets moved into it until she can sanitize the whole place. So they stack the boxes in the main room and in the bedroom and when the sun gets lower they’re relieved to find there’s some dubious provisions for electricity in the place.

“I can get it to work.” Gale decides as Maureen tries flicking the light switch ten times as if to see if the bare bulb will grow a will of its own and turn on for her. It reminds him so much of Bucky’s brand of idiocy that Gale almost forgets himself and reaches out to swat her hand away from the futile flicking.

“Ok, then you do that while I keep unloading.” she insists, “Won’t be able to do anything if it’s pitch dark in here.”

So Gale drags a chair over and begins to fiddle with the wires tacked to the ceiling, risking electrocution so Maureen Kendeigh can see her way around as she tromps past him again and again in the same path with yet another crate.

He’s good with his hands. Excellent, in fact, judging by how one bulb flickers then stays steady, then another and another until the inside of the bungalow is aglow with cozy light: enough light for Maureen to appreciate his sweat soaked singlet and the way it rides up his belly when his arms are up and how it’s bright enough for her to scrub the exam room effectively when laying in a room with an insomniatic Gale Cleven gets to her at 3:00 am.

As it surely will. God! -the man is as impossible as he is beautiful, and while she doubted she’d manage it with him before, the sheer amount of fury she feels towards him right now leaves no doubt. She’ll shake him up. Like a Fuckin’ Martini. And he doesn’t have to like it, probably won’t, but they’ll both feel better after. “In on it” -he’s got the gall to ask but not the balls to spell it out, she can’t abide a quasi gentleman and so far Gale Cleven’s been nothing but the genuine article. Until now, now when he can’t accept certain human things about himself like fatigue or attraction, and he takes it out on her with a sullenness belonging to a much older man.

Maureen’s fine with that, she thinks as ogles the glowing golden skin of his sheened shoulders on one of her passes with a crate, she can take her mad out on him, too. And she’s got a lot of it. More than John Egan was ever able to lick away.

By 15:00, and some change to the second hand, Gale Cleven was still awake. Little surprise there, not to him, but even though it didn’t matter he found himself thoroughly annoyed and taking it out with a lethal glare at the vague gray ceiling, lit by a massive moon over the ocean. Wire and chairs but no curtains -an oversight about the furnishings. It wouldn’t have mattered, he knew that, and still the racket Maureen was making put his teeth on edge. It wasn’t Benny’s snoring or John’s drunken mumbling but it was a consistent *swoosh, swish* of industry that had Gale feeling a mixture of guilt and determination to keep lying here while she scrubbed.

It had not occurred to him she might’ve needed this break, too. Such as it was, effective as it was not proving. He knew she’d seen some combat in the beginning at Manila, maybe even worse than Iwo but long hours doing what she was doing now, where she was doing it, was no joke.

The urge to get up and help her was strong but then, so was the crippling fear of being around her in the dead of night and inviting any more of the bossy familiarity she’d tucked him into bed with. A magnesium capsule! She’d made him take three of the maternity horse pills and told him to calm the hell down as if he didn't have ample reason to be on edge with her laying a foot away on another bed, stripped down to her cotton slip. Of course Gale would cite war horrors if anyone asked why he couldn’t sleep but to be frank, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t managing it these days and it had started awhile ago. Before Maureen Kendeigh glowed sweaty and luminous in the moonlight while gripping his cheeks and puckering his protesting mouth and plopping pills on his lolling tongue.

Thinking of it made his face flame with embarrassment for such a childish resistance. But god, her nursley familiarity sent a cross signal to his brain each time she helped herself to his flesh and no amount of berating himself while sweating in these rough sheets could dislodge the reaction. Closer to fifteen hundred than was remotely chivalrous, Gale threw off his sweat soaked bedding and tromped into the glow of light outside their bedroom, shuffling blearily into the little exam room. He faltered for a brief ten seconds at the doorway watching her undulating movements with sponge in hand and knees on the floor, white slip clinging like a second skin from the sweat.

He felt the sudden medical urge to lick her like the cattle back home lick at the salt block, a strange way of quenching thirst. Was ninety two hours without sleep considered genuine grounds for insanity? He felt like maybe he should be keeping a diary of these fevered thoughts to report back to John and see if he needed to get turned in. This wasn’t horniness, this was salt cravings. Yeah, yeah that’s what it was.

“You hypocrite.” he felt emboldened to tease and his voice came out rough and lower than even he expected, the disuse of laying there for ages taking a toll.

Maureen looked up like she’d been spooked herself, a slip and stall of her scrubbing, hair hanging about her face so unprofessionally he realized he’d never seen it in such…disarray. “Oh, the baby’s awake.” she grinned back and he felt an indulgence settle in his gut for her he didn’t know existed, “I see my magnesium capsules were a cure all.”

“Oh yeah, knock a horse out.” he agreed derisively.

“Your eyes are droopier.” she found a silver lining and as if reminded of the grit in them, his large fists came up and rubbed them meanly.

Like a little boy, she thought, watching him in the harsh light of the bare bulb, warm wood all around him the same color as all that sweaty skin and those skivvies hanging onto the lithest set of hips she may have ever seen. Looked as if one deep breath of that lean belly and the fabric would be goners, slipping down to the floor dramatically like a woman’s pantyhose in those unfortunate comics where that’s always occurring just when she wants to cross a busy street. Maybe if she could make him belly laugh-

She wished she knew how. She wondered if he knew how.

“Got another Sponge?” he asked and she was reminded why she liked him so much.

“Top crate, there, left, there that one.” She directed him with jerks of her chin until he was at the right one, “I’m using antiseptic.” she warned.

“I know,” he answered, dropping to his knees beside her and making use of her bucket to dunk his sponge, “smell’s been givin’ me a headache.”

Maureen’s mouth twitched at his tired grumpiness, more endearing now he was still putting effort into being near the caustic shit and the way his golden hair flopped on his forehead with his scrubbing movements. If his hips were that fluid, that rhythmic in cleaning a floor, how much more could she teach him to be—“Yeah, I’m sure it’s the anti-septic giving you a headache.” she snarked.

They ate sandwiches he’d gotten from the navy camp’s mess on the back porch, letting the sea water lap at their feet. A little stale but it was a much needed breakfast and Gale brought fresh water back, too, and a report that they were nice fellas and entirely too undressed for her to ever go see. That suited her fine, they’d be a pest if they knew a woman was up here and personally speaking she only needed one man for company, crate lifting, and doing the job well. And she rather had her heart set on it being Gale Cleven. Especially now she got to stare at him under the bright morning sun with a tropical breeze and more skin on display than at a swimsuit contest. He’d put on a singlet, as if to mark that a day had begun even if they hadn’t slept the night, but that was promptly sweat soaked and tiny nipples were pebbling under it from the breeze.

“Did they ask if a nurse came with you?” she pressed him between bites.

“Yeah.” he swallowed his bite thickly and licked at the mayo collecting at the corner of his mouth with typical precision, “And I lied.”

“Well, well,” she cooed, making him roll his eyes, “how’d that feel?”

“I have lied before.” he balked.

The look he gave her was both thunderous and remincent and she repented that line of questioning, used to distinguishing in her patients whether a wound was from wartime or stemmed from childhood. “Well who’d you say came with?” she asked.

“A technician.” he mumbled, blushing for some reason.

“Mm, someone nice and hairy and stinky-“

“Stop.” he begged.

“-not anyone they’d wanna meet.”

“I did it for you!”

“-if that makes you sleep at night, Cleven.” she humored him and like lightning, the back of his hand had flicked out and thumped her on the sternum, hard.

“Shit!” Maureen clutched the place, more in surprise than pain although he’d walloped her good and well.

“Shit!” He parroted in mortification, holding his hand like it was an offensive weapon.

“What was that for?” she laughed, “Do I remind you that much of Benny? Are you missing him that bad? Is that who you pretended was with you up here? Huh? Huh? Benny Demarco, now that’s a beauty to hide under a bushel-“

She was crowding him in on the steps and he was teetering towards falling off, too alarmed at his own outburst to trust his instincts now to shove her off without causing harm -and she knew it. She pressed her advantage and crawled over him with her teasing comments about Demarco until his long body had bowed so far away from her’s it was levitating and then toppled predictably into the surf.

“Fuck it’s cold!” he wheezed out as the embrace of the old pacific drenched him and rolled him about at her feet for a few delightful moments before he got his footing and rose, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for the steps.

“Sea bathing was in doctor Egan’s regimen.” she informed remorselessly before extending a merciful hand to help him up. He was slippery and shiny as an eel coming up and the grip of his hand was as strong as she expected. And still she found it intoxicating, the duality of him as he stood there pouting and bitchy over being cooled off. “Stay right there baby, I’ll get you a towel.” she patted his chest, right where he’d smacked hers, and went inside.

“I’m not your baby.” She heard him holler to her through the door-less porch. “I’m not your baby.” he reiterated vehemently but lower again when she came out with the towel.

“Yes you are.” she argued, “For this week you’re my baby, whether that’s a literal infant or not is your choice -and don’t start arguing, you’ve got to stop it, no one’s making you do a damn thing.” she insisted, hand raised and his mouth closed satisfyingly as a result, “You’ll be my baby. I know you already had a baby, no? Our baby? Shared her with ten other men, that’s generous of you-“

“-Ensign!-“

“-so I’m not gonna be your baby. You’ll be mine and you can find me something to be for the week.” she watched closely as recognition of her logic began to dawn and settle on him, “I could be anyone. I could be Benny Demarco, for instance. If that’s who you wanna lay next to.”

Gale didn’t speak for a long while, eyes off to the side watching the surf lap at the steps and she was still standing there, holding his unused towel. “Who do you want me to be?” he asked finally and his grave perception just about winded her in its raw honesty.

“You.” she replied honestly, “Whichever version of you made it here with me.”

“An infant -a baby.” he scoffed and she was suspicious those eyes were watery. And too delayed for it to be from the salt.

“My baby.” she replied, “Never had one before.”

“With respect ma’am, that’s Bullshit.” he argued in a fierce hiss, “I know you have, with John and -and-“

“I’ve been somebody’s,” she clarified, “but I think I’ve grown out of that. You’ll be my baby, huh? It’s not marriage, Cleven, it’s a week in paradise and hopefully some shut eye, too. So do you want me to be Benny?”

Those watery eyes let one single tear go trickling down his pink cheek alongside the rivulets of ocean water dripping from his hair and Maureen had never felt a single thing heat her up quite like it. “No,” his chuckle was thick and he sniffed, “not Benny. Maybe uh, God, I dunno, I’ve never had anyone.”

“Then we can make it up entirely.” she was pleased by the idea of not being a stand-in, although god knows she and John could sympathize more about the need for that than anyone. “We’ll be castaways.” she suggested, sitting back down on the porch now the confrontation was dwindling and in full confirmation of her suspicions, he sat again beside her without fuss.

“Marooned.” he disagreed, chin resting on his hands and a boyish tug pulling up the corner of his lips. “Something insane you did landed us here.”

“Mm, took liberties with the captain's daughter, perhaps?” she teased, daring to run a finger along those golden shoulders and collect a few salt drops. He shuddered under her but stayed put.

“I’m not playing fair maiden for you.” he retorted but his eyes were fond.

“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maureen was still impossible and Gale felt his gut burn in a bizzare sort of drive to prove her wrong. He’d hardly ever felt this even with all the jokes from the boys, not even with all the temptations from the girls, it just hadn’t seemed something that needed proving. Every flea and salmon could do it, he never doubted when he got married he could manage it credibly enough.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” his voice sounded like he’d come to a decision and Maureen squinted at his profile until it clicked.

“I’ve never been married before.” she observed breezily.

“And I never planned on being married for just a week.” he replied.

“Isn’t there a film about this?” she asked, “Cary Grant gets stuck on an island and he marries his castaway but then they get rescued and there’s a first wife?”

“Yeah, I think so, actually.” he thumbed at his bottom lip in contemplation and Maureen found it endlessly distracting, along with the bird song and the ocean crash and the sunshine.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” she agreed then, settling back on her elbows to stare up at the sun and let it add a few freckles, “And when it’s over and you’re rescued, I’ll be the better woman and let Our Baby have you.”

“You’ll always be the best of women, Maureen.” he sounded like the admittance took every fiber of his resolve to say, but she’d heard it before in his voice weeks ago when she was patching him up.

If a tear slipped out the corner of her shut eyes and down a sun warmed cheek, she wasn’t going to make a deal of it, not until she felt his finger catch it tenderly before it dropped from her jaw and rolled it back up.

She felt her lip wobble traitorously and perhaps there were more tears planning to follow and betray her but the shivering shock of his full lips, pressed to her bare shoulder, stemmed the flood. Maureen held her breath and kept her eyelids sealed, an orange glow of sunshine behind them as all her senses attuned to the drag of his caresses up to the juncture of her shoulder, the press of his body next to her on the porch boards, the suspenseful absence of his hands. They were soft as marshmallows, those lips, and a stray tip of his tongue caught her clavicle as he worked his way up a path that almost seemed premeditated, as if he’d thought of doing this a million times but held back. Now he allowed himself and the assured intimacy of his mouth made her body heat soar almost beyond her endurance as he crept up her throat and onto her cheek.

A kitten lick to that tear track down her cheek and Maureen was whimpering from something else entirely, breaking ranks and turning her head to gaze at him, nearly stunned by how close he was, how alive, how beautiful, how blue. There were his hands now, one propped beneath her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Her lips were tingling with anticipation by the time he’d lowered his face far enough and brushed her mouth with his.

Maybe he’d done his fair share of kissing the girls back home goodbye, or maybe it was a talent given along with this impossible lips, or perhaps she’d wanted it so long that the final having of it sent Maureen spiraling with something oddly like obsession.

Kissing was enough for the longest time, the shore sounds and the squawking of ocean birds and the feel of Gale Cleven laying more and more atop her as his tongue met hers and danced. She scratched the back of that tanned neck like she dreamed of doing a dozen times, little scritches to his hairline that had him sagging against her kisses to the point of crushing.

She allowed herself the liberty of running her hands along his lean sides, taking in the graceful taper of his waist, the dip of his back, the sopping wet waistband of his briefs. She wondered if this is how men feel with a young girl, when there’s so much loveliness one wants to maul it and mark it and watch it respond. Anything to make him moan again into her mouth, wrenched and helpless and appreciative of her all at once, anything for him to hump his hips against her thigh in a manner so mindless he didn’t seem himself at all.

When he pulled away, dazed and winded from his own exertions, he seemed to have left behind all his inhibitions, stark need written on his face and only some doubt of what he was allowed yet remaining. “Are we gonna?-“ he trailed off, raspy voiced and trembling with suspense.

“Going to what?” she couldn’t abide it any longer, his demureness, “Say your mind, Cleven.”

“Do it.” he let out with a wince.

“Well I don’t know, Mr. Jones, you tell me. Are we gonna?”

Gale huffed and threw his head back, trying to regain some sense of mind, lip savagely pulled between his teeth. “Yeah. We are.” he decided.

“Then finish your sandwich.” she patted his waist and pushed him off.

“I can’t!” he begged with a groan from where he’d spilled out on the porch like a boneless dummy. “Not now.”

“You’re gonna need it, the water too, trust me on this.”

“Are we gonna -make love? Or go for a forced march?” he protested but lifted the canteen to his lips anyways when she gave him a look and proceeded to drink it dry.

“How would you know the difference?” she teased and he had the good humor to roll his eyes. If all went according to Egan’s plan, they oughta hibernate for twelve hours of sleep afterwards and she wanted him hydrated and ready for that. Maureen had a plan of her own, which certainly might lead to such a sleep, but it also involved not getting off that boy for love of God or money until he was as useless as a wet rag and the impertinent gnawing between her own legs was replaced by a good ache.

Cleven was staring at his sandwich remorsefully, “I can’t get this down, Maureen.” he declared with sudden finality and then, without preamble he threw it into the sea. “C’mon, Mrs Jones.” he held out his hand for her as he stood up, something close to an excited grin taking over his face.

He was so confident now, having come to a decision, and Maureen found herself naturally bending to his direction, placing her hand in his large palm and allowing him to haul her to her feet as gently as a dance partner. “We’ve got a bed.” she reminded blissfully into another kiss, anchored to his face by the persistent hands snarled lovingly into her salt tousled curls: this hair Maureen, this hair drove me mad.

“And we’re gonna use it.” he agreed, walking her backwards up the porch until he feet were skidding over the threshold, his tongue still sucking her own.

She stopped him there with a hand to the willowy plane of his belly, a regulated, principled woman to the last, and snapped the still soaked waistband of his drawers. “Off, you’ll make the sheets wet and sandy.”

Their sweat would accomplish dampening them enough in this muggy heat, they didn’t need sand and ocean water to boot. Maureen ducked beneath his arm and went back out to grab the discarded towel.

“I don’t want a trail of drips on our clean floor.”

Gale smiled softly at the usage of “our” -it felt right somehow, to share things with her. They’d been at it for some time, it came naturally like it had with Bucky and the few other boys who he knew would be something special and unlike anything else after this. It was a little bittersweet to know he was living the best days of his life, right here and now, enviable, irretrievable moments of raw connection slipping away with each drip, drip, drip onto the threshold. It was a heartache in the making and it was a spur for the moment. Back home they’d never understand, and any old observer would see nothing unique, but Gale could allow himself the rightness of sharing just one more thing. Why not cement it fully, irrevocably, as the closest brush he’d ever come to with another soul- he’d asked himself the same with Bucky, knew it was already an established fact.

Maureen’s lips were warm where they pressed to his back, the space between his shoulders, towel held to his waist. “You’re not shy of me, are ya, baby?” she whispered in his ear, thumbing at the still worn briefs.

He could feel himself this past hour hardening and softening, so many times in the space of so many minutes he was dizzy with it, the way his brain would have the upper hand and then, suddenly no, it all rushed south. Which now left shyness as the only real excuse for the way he burned and shrank and burned and shrank in turn at each of her touches.

“You gonna give me the towel?” he asked instead.

“Once it’s safe to do so.” she replied primly, in her familiar nursing voice, and he hated the shudder that tore through him. She stepped under his arm again, around him and into the house, and stood in the shade of the it with the towel spread invitingly, tauntingly. A whole yard and a half between then and she’d decreed no drips past the threshold. Gale’s cheeks burned as did his eyes, smarting with brimming tears from an odd frustration he’d only ever felt over a botched mission, an anger at not being able to bomb his target and make it worthwhile, a petty frustration he always felt before the cold rage of lost men fully registered.

Futile tears: Gale yanked the skivvies down and stepped out of them efficiently.

Maureen wasn’t smiling at him from the shade anymore, not even a smirk, she looked hungry. She looked like Bucky, taking in “a view.” Gale didn’t know ladies ticked that way -or maybe they didn’t, maybe only Maureen did. The blush in his cheeks ran down his chest and spilled onto his belly and his fists clenched without thought.

“When the man of the house,” Maureen was reciting some inane pamphlet she no doubt did not heed or else they’d never be here, “respects the whims of the lady in small matters, he will find the lady more submissive to issues of larger stake such a-“

Gale made a dash at her, to shut her up, and she fled from him to the bedroom, feet smacking on the hardwood and cotton slip fluttering up her thighs -his towel with her.

“I want you bare.” he told her when he had her, struggling in his arms before the bed, a lush friction where he pressed tightly behind her.

“Then sit,” she sounded genuinely breathy, trapped to him and he had never heard her like that before, it made him want to hold fast, “and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

It was just a slip, no garters and no braisere or girdle, yet still Gale sat himself on the bed and Maureen bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the modest way he deposited the towel on his lap, covering what she’d been eyeing and thanking her luck for. A cock as pretty as his face -now if she could just make it stand up fully.

“You ready?” she deferred to him as she stood there before the bed, being looked on with all the reverence and trepidation of a goddess by this seated acolyte.

“Please,” he nodded furiously, “please show me.”

It felt a little wrong to expose oneself in front of such an angelic being, curtainless windows throwing in the sun on him all golden and untouched, white scratchy sheets and white draped towel making it a bower of innocence for a brief moment. It also felt right, to throw off everything but what they’d been born with. Off went rank, obligations and expectations, as easily as dragging the slip over her head.

She tossed the article of clothing behind her for good measure -and dramatic effect- then noted with satisfaction the bleary eyed comprehension of her charms from Gale Cleven where he sat with his mouth hung so slack he was liable to drool.

“Incredible.” he muttered, husky and a little slurred, his hand raising without his own volition to beckon her closer, a plea, command.

Maureen swayed on her feet, nearer and nearer until she was standing above him, between his parted legs and she shuddered as he laid that broad palm on her hip and dragged it up her side in an admiring swath, thumbing at her belly and catching her ribs in his hold.

“Those flight suits of yours, they don’t…they don’t let show the half of it.” Gale declared, mesmerized, face hovering closer and closer until his lips were pressing against her flesh, right under her sternum, his forehead pressed to the underside of one pendulous breast, nuzzling as he became aware of that, bunting like a calf at her breast with his face, gone silly with access.

“Whadda ya think?” she giggled, the silliness of Gale Cleven gone stupid over making yams jiggle being the exact sort of thing that made life worth living, and being a woman exquisitely satisfying.

“They’re so goddamn soft.” he moaned around a bit of the underside, still hadn’t worked his way to a nipple. He seemed too preoccupied with their give and bounce to make a more calculated use of them. Maybe if men hadn’t been told what to do with them, they’d do what Gale Cleven was doing and rub their face against them and let them rest on their foreheads. There was a charm to this ignorance as he licked the salty sweat from their undersides with a surprisingly brave tongue.

The clumsy misuse was oddly effective for Maureen, what Gale lacked in skill he made up for in unstudied appreciation and nothing got her quite so ready as being appreciated to the point of foolishness. Her first conquest had been a boy at school who hadn’t minded tripping in his track shoes, day after day, to try to catch up to her on her bicycle, just to give her a flower or trinket. He was laughed at for his devotion until he broke the school track record next year, and Maureen was sure to remind him of her role in his success. They’d soon found a mutually beneficial reward system and Maureen had adopted that attitude as a maxim for the future, her dates and conquests may have been many but each of them in their own way had been appreciative -or else she was jumping out the window, damn the twelve foot drop out the dormitory.

No one, however, had looked quite so gifted by her mere existence as Gale Cleven did while he clutched at her hips and smushed her flesh between his hands like it were some fine dough and he was an artisan.

Discreetly, and it was easy to be so with his face buried in her bosoms, Maureen glanced between them at the tool she had such hopes for and found it, unsurprisingly, twitching and dribbling against his thigh, half hard but flapping about like a fish on dry land, the discarded towel no match for its movement. He’d need a hand, literally and metaphorically, and as she raked her nails through his blond curls and directed his slick mouth to a nipple, she felt him sag even further into her hold. Maureen weighed her next step carefully, trying to tamp down her own wants. She’d need to be sure but slow, careful not to spook him, or antagonize or embarrass.

She wondered if he even realized the same banged-up-head condition that sent him out here was most likely responsible for the jitters that kept him flopping. She wasn’t so conceited as to assume he’d not bedded a woman yet out of mere dysfunction, Cleven was a man of principle and strict notions regarding how the world should be, and he wasn’t one to build those notions on passing medical conditions.

“You like ‘em?” Maureen teased him, shocked at how hoarse her own voice had gone in the interim.

“Gonna make a home in here.” he mumbled in the affirmative, slack grin molded to the valley between them, blue eyes wide as the skies outside peering up at her.

“Got a job for you, baby.” she murmured, thumbing at the scar on his cheek.

“What’s that Mrs. Jones?” his voice alone made her mad with need, as did the saucy turn of his mouth so wonderfully foreign she didn’t know how she’d control herself until he was ready.

“Need you to lick a little landing strip, right here.” she ran her finger along the somewhat tacky skin between her breasts, sweat and his sloppy kisses having partway done the job already.

“What for?” Gale asked, hushed and curious.

“You’ll see soon enough.” she recalled how effective her nursing voice had been on him, and pulled it out now it seemed beneficial.

She had been right, with only a hesitant spark of aggravated defiance, Gale dipped his head and stuck out that pink tongue, lapping a swath up between her breasts as directed, flaming eyes locked on hers as she shivered from the breeze on spit slicked flesh.

“Again.” she told him, and his hands came up to hold her breasts apart as he did it again, and again and once more under his own direction until it was shiny and messy and his nose was gleaming, too.

“What’s it for?” He demanded once more, pink cheeked and swallowing hard as his mouth had dried out from his efforts.

“I told you, silly,” she replied casually, “it’s a landing strip.” and with as little fuss as possible she got to her knees before he’d registered the absence of her standing above him. “Gale, let go of the damned towel.”

She held in a laugh of delight at the tortured color he had grown to, veins running like so much ivy up and down him and a vibrant pink tip that matched his lips. Maureen wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the face again without thinking of this drizzling little pink mushroom.

“You oughta count your blessings, Gale Cleven, it was a close call, my coming along at all.” she informed him soberly while his mind visibly vacated his body at the repeated sighting of his sputtering cock emerging from between the pillowy press of her breasts, “It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, I was quite sure in fact, that Bucky was gonna help himself to this assignment.”

“Maureen!” Gale thundered, except his usual imposing ire was much diluted by his quivering belly and hoarse voice.

“What?” she brushed off his scandalized displeasure with a grin, feeling cocky herself as he hadn’t flagged on her in minutes and was beginning to gush in earnest, “Bucky loves the beach.”

“Sure, Maureen.”

“In the end he decided I had what it takes.” she went on conversationally, ignoring the inhuman sounds that came out of him when she casually spit on his tip, the better to work her lips around him, “These.” she clarified, pressing her breasts to his thighs as she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked.

“Fuck, hell, Maureen! Sorry, sorry, oh fuck!” -not even Gale Cleven had expected his hips to fly up that hard and fast, knocking on the back of her throat.

She laid her hands on his squirmy hips and did her best impression of a Listerine gargle round his tip, which sent a shudder through him so strong she thought he might’ve climaxed already.

“Maureen, Maureen come on, get up here, please.” now he yanked at her hair, desperate for once and that was a pleasure to hear.

“What baby?” she pulled off him.

“Gotta kiss you.” he told her firmly, and hauled her bodily up by her armpits, rolling her under him in the bed.

Kisses -sure, Gale, kisses.

He was moaning atop her, wiry and flexing his hips against her, wriggling to get between her thighs and she let him, hungry and expectant when he slotted easily in place. He pressed his lips to hers ardently, then reared back in shock at the taste of his own precum in her mouth and on her lips.

“Salty.” he whispered as if to himself before licking his lips and going back for more. “What do I need’to do?” he whispered urgently against her mouth as she rocked against him and he rocked back until they’d frustrated each other thoroughly with mere caresses.

“Put it in, my baby.” she whispered back.

“First though, don’t I need to-to do- something? Something first?” he could barely think straight but he’d heard enough talk about this, about gentlemen and the necessity of some form of chivalrous preparation. The way discipline and intuition set apart an average pilot from an excellent one. Bucky had talked a lot about getting girls ready, making them squirm, revving them up, for all his apparent disinterest during the topic, Gale had been listening.

“You’ve done it already, Mr. Jones.” she giggled, reaching between them to drag him more firmly through the wanton swamp he’d made of her. “I’m ready, I’m so ready.”

“Oh fuck, s’wet.” he mumbled the obvious before willingly letting her guide him in, his body following her tug like his cock were a leash.

“Jesus,— Gale!” Maureen choked as he bottomed out in a sudden plunge, shocked at the stretch despite the gauging of his size. “You’re so deep, oh baby you’re a big one aren't ya.”

“You ok?” he whimpered, shuddering on top of her again and again at the incomparable feeling of being inside another’s body.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she gasped, “Hurts so good, you can move, baby.”

“You’re so warm.” he sounded close to worshipful he was so drunk off her, and Maureen spared a moment to smirk at the fate of man: come tearing their way out of a woman to begin their lives only to spend the rest of it trying to and needing to get back in.

He did try to move, she’d give him that. And while Maureen was more than half expecting it, still, it was mildly comical to see the confusion flash across his blissful face right as the buildup was snatched from him and he was suddenly shaking into the real event before he knew it, betrayed and euphoric all at once. The muscles in his belly and back and neck seized and his hips lunged in a series of uncoordinated pumps and she could read the panic in his eyes right before they rolled back -a begrudging admittance that this was nothing at all like the steady predictability of his hand.

“That’s it baby, that’s my baby, feel nice, huh?”

Gale didn’t answer her, too occupied whimpering with a taut throat and jaw clenched so tight he could snap a hinge like that. He was shaking worse than before when the spasms subsided and the tiniest pressure to his sweat slicked neck had him buckling to lay pressed against her, half senseless from the force of his release.

Maureen had always loved this part of sex, the pliable, bewildered, smushed man atop her like she’d sucked his soul out, when he’d rendered it up to her so willingly, so desperately, forcefully even, chasing his own eventual weakness. Long limbs aligning on top of hers, the hot pants of winded breath against her breasts, the hands listlessly holding on wherever that had last tried to grip and control her. The view from above with Gale Cleven was something additional, beautiful and glistening with bronzed swaths of sun exposed skin and the pale whites of his thighs and ass making a perfect little outline of absent shorts, his golden hair tousled beyond salvaging and that luscious mouth, drooling like a babe’s.

“So this is what Bucky’s been talkin’ about.” he mumbled into her breast, cheek smashed and enunciation shot to hell.

Maureen laughed in disbelief, “Thinking of him even now? Really, he’s going to be impossible if we tell him.”

“Just sayin’, now I know.” he defended, lazily rubbing his partly softened cock inside her with a shimmy of his hips that was quickly followed by an overly sensitive mewl.

“You don’t know anything, Angel boy.” she insisted and Gale raised his head at that, sour that she’d still contradict him after thirty seconds of vigorous pumping. “Let me see your hands.”

He had some trouble recalling where he put them but eventually he found them under her hips and withdrew them from their warm shelter to present them, warily. “Well, damn.” he muttered to himself, somewhat shocked by just how badly the shakes had worsened. “Looks like that treatment backfired.”

“More of a dose dependent case, I’d say.” Maureen corrected and circled each wrist with her hands and brought them up to her lips to kiss.

Gale’s face smoothed at her softness and a shy smile lit up his bleary eyes while she felt a twitch of his spent cock deep inside her, swishing about the mess he’d made like a dog’s tail after getting pats. “You have the most beautiful hands.” she informed him earnestly and balls deep inside her she watched as one single innocuous compliment sent him scarlet with a blush. “And they’ll be yours again soon.” she promised.

His gentle expression and bright red cheeks crumpled rather suddenly and before either of them seemed to expect it, fat teardrops had escaped the blue of his eyes and rolled down the crimson flesh of his face.

“Goddamnit.” he cursed hoarsely, in an absolute rage at himself, regaining his hands from her grip insistently to bring them up to his own face, hiding from her behind harsh fists that rubbed at his wet eyes like he could grind the grief and weariness out between his knuckles.

Unbalanced as he was without hands to support him, and legs gone jellied from his fast fading pleasure, Maureen chose to capitalize on it as a nurse would a brief state of insensibility to move a patient to a cleaner cot. Remorselessly she pressed at his shoulder and lifted their still joined hips until he tipped over, rolling onto his back beneath her. “We’ll have none of that.” she told him with loving adamance from her new perch, prying his hands away and pressing them to the sheets beside his head. “The hiding, I mean.” she clarified and he looked all of hardly past twenty laying there with wobbly lips and wet eyes unobscured, “I’m a very great proponent of crying,” she went on conversationally which confused him more but kept him too preoccupied to stifle his tears, “De-sanguination is still a highly esteemed practice, you know, it means to drain the body. One type of draining often triggers the other.”

“You gonna start bleeding me?” he asked wryly.

“Oh, maybe, you’d look so pretty all streaked up.” she teased and ran a sharp thumbnail over his pinned wrist.

Well, that got him hard again. Fascinating.

“You know what’s got your hands like this-“ she whispered softly, “-probably the same reason you flop, too.”

“Huh.”

“Pretty common.” she assured.

“Quit tellin’ me I’m common.” He growled, tickling her sides and she grabbed his hands, pinning them again playfully.

“Nothing common about you, sweet baby.” she swore, leaning down to kiss him and enjoying the way he met her strongly, surely, “Gale, can I move?” she asked, half strangled by the taut string of need coiled in her belly, tugged to madness by the bulk of him still resting limply inside.

“Move?” he was perplexed.

“I’m going to die if I don’t get some friction.” she whispered, somehow shy to admit that in the face of his innocent bewilderment, “God -please tell me someone has informed you women finish, too?”

“Bucky says they clamp up so tight you can’t help but blow.” Gale recited dutifully, “Which is what just happened, right?”

Maureen grinned wide and wicked before dragging her hips up till he was barely in, then plopping down into the cradle of his hips, making him let out a “oomph.”

“Maureen?” he questioned, half knowing already he had been mistaken but hell, to go again? “Maureen- I’ll die if we go again.”

“What a way to go.” she muttered, her pace atop him increasing as did the tortured gasps tumbling from his lips. His spunk was making terribly wet, lewdly sloppy sounds of suction each time she slammed down on his cock and the visual of her exerting herself on top of him was something so blatant and jiggly he could hardly endure the visual feast of it.

“Shit, shit I can’t-“ he growled while his trembling hands latched onto her hips in a grip that was anything but dissuading. “Maureen.” he begged her for…he knew not what.

“Come on Mr. Jones,” she clasped her hands around his face and aligned their noses, rubbing like a kiss with each movement of her lower body, “you’re not one to leave your missus needy, I know you’re not. Not when you’ve got such pretty hands-“

-a shudder from him.

“and a clever tongue-“

-a whine from him that sounded close to a wounded dog’s it was so lasting.

“-or a tool this capable.”

“Maureen.” he groaned.

“Baby, my baby.” she begged, “You’ve got what I need, come on, take me apart.”

Like he trusted himself for the first time since they began this endeavor, she felt his body bow up beneath her, his arm flexing strongly across her hips, his legs braced beneath her and a heavy hand clutching her neck, then he was driving up into her with a wild abandon she only ever hoped was simmering beneath that cool exterior. When she finished he hadn’t stopped, and Maureen found herself crying out like a feral thing into the hollow of his clavicle as the brutal pummeling went on, satisfaction drug out of her over and over in harsh ruts.

“That more like it?” he panted the harsher he grew, a hand around her jaw pushing her face away from his so he might see the damage he was doing.

“Yes, yes oh baby, yes!” she swore through clenched teeth, it had been too long and each blissful peak only aggravated her further, made her hungrier, that and the fact he was so proportioned as to be a constant delight just shy of pain, “Hell Gale, do ya hear us?” she gloated, propping herself back on his thighs to watch the shiny pink of him flash in and out of her wet sheath.

Mesmerized, Gale didn’t reply, but he dragged a hand up her belly and felt for the way it tensed at each intrusion, the span of his fingers an incredible thing across her skin. “Can’t believe you can take it, easy as that.” he marveled, his thumb straying and pulling apart her petals the better to watch.

“Thumb it right there.” she directed gently, reaching down to move his calloused finger over her bud, right above where he split her apart, “That’s it, ya feel that too, huh?”

“Fuck you’re tight.” his voice cracked and his eyes shot wide again.

“Are you -?”

“Maybe.” there was a wobble of blissed uncertainty in his voice until she stopped her movements and he let out a sob before he could catch it. “Maureen, please.”

“Please what, baby?” she was chuckling at him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I let you-“ he pleaded, still thinking things worked that way, “-now I need, please Maureen...”

“Oh you can.” she assured and his face lightened but his eyes stayed wary, “But just know, I won’t be stopping.”

“What?”

“You remember how that feels, don’t ya baby?” she reminded, gently pushing him to lie back and beginning their movements anew, “So good you can’t stand it, so messy and easy for me, so tender and much for you?”

“Jesus.” he wheezed, his lean belly caving in with his heavy pants, but she felt him throbbing inside her and his pupils were large as saucers, “You’re as mean as Bucky.” he whined, voice gone high in panicked pleasure.

“Thank you, but really I’m not.” she laughed, gently thumbing away an errant tear that rolled down his cheek. “Not quite.”

“Maureen, please, please you’re too pretty!” he begged nonsensically even as his hips began to snap into hers, invigorated and forceful.

“Hold it Gale, try to hold it.” Maureen gasped, staring down at the prettiest face she’d ever seen as his brow began to furrow, “Or don’t, all the same to me.”

“I’m gonna flip you.” he swore and a few seconds of inaction passed, marked by the slam of her hips down onto his, and she thought he didn’t mean it until she gave him a daring look and suddenly she was careening backwards, head jolting against the sheets and body laid out firmly beneath him.

“Goddamn.” she swore at the way he hadn’t dislodged an inch during the whole maneuver, suddenly pressed just as deeply as before, his hips working like a piston and his hands tight and strong on her neck. “Goddamn baby. Oh goddamn that’s good.”

“S’good?” he begged her to repeat, some dizzying natural force propelling him harder and faster and needier.

“You’re so good.” she was adamant as she hung about his neck and locked her ankles in the small of his back. “You’re so good I’m - I’m -gonna-“

“What was that about holdin’ it?” he hissed, smile cocky and smug.

“Bull ain’t out of the gate yet Cleven,” she cautioned but her hips had begun to lift of their own accord, a tremble taking hold of her, “But I’m close, I’m, i'm real cl- oh God!”

“Come on sweet Maureen, wanna make ya -wanna do it for ya. Give ya what you need, Mrs Jones.” Gale’s hoarse and sweet nothings poured hot and breathy in her ear and Maureen found herself locked and gripping him before she knew it, moaning into his neck as he moved in and out, in and out as she’d only ever dreamed of.

When she cracked her dazzled eyes open again he was panting above her, the clink of his dog tags gently bumping her chin with each sway deeper, lashes batting in a golden flutter as he too began to lose himself, slower, more drawn out and yet every bit as desperate as the first time.

“Look at me baby, look at me when ya do.” she pleaded, gently gripping his chin as his mouth fell open in a series of little noises of effort that went straight to her belly grown hot and molten with the feeling of him spurting inside.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Gale was working atop her in pained delight, lips so smeared and face so sweaty he looked like he might melt at any minute, “thank you, oh fuck, thank you, sweet Maureen.” he chanted low and dreamy, again and again until he drove in once more and stayed.

Those clear blue eyes fagged in an exhausted ecstasy, his head dropping impossibly further with each ragged pant until his face was barely hovering over her breasts, neck bent and forhead slowly pressing into the swell of them. His forearms gave out and those hands of his stayed trapped beneath her shoulder blades.

“Sleep Angel baby,” Maureen coaxed, hand cradling the back of his dear head to her breasts, feeling a low lazy peace settle over her at the feel of his dead weight plugging her up and the lovely wringing out she’d just endured, “let’s just sleep, dear boy.”

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#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfiction #the pacific #friends in the crucible #mota smut #gale cleven x oc #gale cleven #gale cleven x john egan #hints of at least #Gale x Maureen #Gale Cleven fanfic #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler imagine

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

You're like me, but better

John Egan X Female! Reader

Summary: Bucky meets a woman in a bar...

Warning: 18+/ pure smut/ switch!Bucky/ switch!reader/ doggy style/ oral (f and m)/ fingering/ handjob/ kinda edging/ dirty talk/ swearing/ use of Y/n/ mention of a physical fight/ alcohol/ praise/

Word count: 3k

A/n: I need holy water...

When he first spotted her, dancing and laughing, John Egan thought she was beautiful. She was dancing like no one was watching, but he was surely watching her. The way she moved was hypnotising, he couldn’t stop admiring her, she was wearing a blue navy dress that stopped right before her knees. It was beautiful, her hair was originally organised, but now, they were loose and kind of messy, but they were still looking good.

When she first spotted him, he was already looking at her. Y/n smiled to him as he took a sip of his drink. She thought he was good looking and looked like trouble and fun; the things she looked for in a man. When the music ended, she was thirsty, so she headed for the bar, and for the man. ‘’A whiskey, please’’ she asked the bartender. ‘’Make that 2’’ the man said, resting his elbow on the bar, looking at her. ‘’You like Whiskey?’’ he asked her. ‘’I love it, does that surprise you?’’ she leaned in closer to his ear, so he could understand what she was saying. He smirked as he turned his head to speak closer to her ear. ‘’I’m impressed, not surprised’’ he said with a low voice. She smiled to him as she took her glass. ‘’You can put it on my tab’’ she announced, not daring to look away from him. They went to sit at a table, well, Y/n went to sit down, Bucky followed her. She smirked when she saw that he followed her.

Empty glasses were all over the table, they had a lot of whiskey shots and Y/n’s tab kept going up. They’ve been talking for what felt like hours. The conversation was filled with flirting on both sides and teasing. ‘’What do you say if we get out of here?’’ he suggested, with a flirty tone. ‘’Yes, but hold on’’ she said, getting up. She took a glass full of water and went closer to the drunk men side. Bucky got up, worried about what she was going to do. ‘’What are you doing?’’ he asked her. ‘’Get ready to run’’ she warned as she threw the liquid on one of the men. Since he was drunk and disoriented, he blamed his friend. His friend got up, knocked over someone’s drink and chaos followed. She just started a huge fight. ‘’Go, let’s go’’ she laughed as she took his hand, and they got out of the bar. Bucky was shocked, that woman was truly amazing.

They ran into the alley, laughing and loudly breathing. ‘’You didn’t pay’’ Bucky laughed. ‘’I don’t have the money, plus I’ll pay him next time, I always do’’ she catches her breath. He smirked; he was in awe of her. She was high on adrenaline, even if she already did that to get out of a bar, it was still thrilling to do. They were both panting, looking at each other, they got closer to the other. The alcohol in their system helped their anxiety. ‘’You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, you’re like me, but better!’’ he chuckled. She took his face in her hands as she bit her lips. ‘’Shut up’’ she pulled his face closer to hers and kissed him. John took a second to realise what was happening, but when he did, he put one hand on her hips and the other behind her neck as he deepened the kiss. When they pulled away, to breath, the look in their eyes had change, they were hungry, they needed more. ‘’Where do you live?’’ he panted. ‘’We have to take a taxi, and don’t worry, I can pay’’ she winked. They walked up to the sidewalk and called a taxi.

He was touching her thigh and kept going up. Y/n tried to not breath so loudly, to respect the driver. She wanted to have sex with him right here, in the taxi, but they couldn’t, and the wait was more fun. But she couldn’t wait to get to her appartement and have sex with him. When the driver finally stopped, Y/n handed him the money from the window. ‘’Keep the change, have a good night’’ she smiled as Bucky was behind her. She could feel his erection on her ass, when the driver left, Y/n turned to face him and quickly kissed him. Her apartment was the upper one, so they had to go up some stairs. Bucky gladly walked behind her, checking her ass out as she climbed the stairs.

The second the door was closed; Bucky’s mouth was on hers immediately, trying to show that he was the one in charge, but Y/n quickly showed him who was in charge tonight. ‘’Now, Major, relax, you’re the one fighting the bad guys, you need a reward for doing so’’ she breathed against his lips. She looked up at him, he was grinning like the devil. ‘’What do you have in mind?’’ he growled, God he was desperate for her, he needed her so bad, his painful boner was the proof of how bad he wanted her. ‘’You trust me?’’ she asked between kisses. He nodded as he was being led to her bedroom, he kept following her closely. She felt his hard dick on her ass, she was smiling proudly. She slightly pushed him on the bed, so he could sit at the end of it. He took his shirt off, since he was in his uniform, he knew how to unbutton his shirt quickly. ‘’I have something to propose to you’’ she started as she went between his legs, she was still up, so he had to lift his head to look at her. She played with his curls as she explained her idea. ‘’If you can resist the urge to touch me, until I say stop, you can do whatever you want with me after’’ she purred. His mouth slightly opened, but no sound came out. ‘’And if I touch you?’’ he asked, but it almost sounded like a moan. ‘’You lose’’ she breathed out as she backed away from between his legs.

She started to take off her dress, slowly, teasingly and with a grin on her face. He’d been touching her all night, now, he couldn’t it was torture, but the best kind. He devoured her with his eyes, he needed her, but first he had to play her little game. She took her bra off but kept her panties on. ‘’Should I take your pants off, or you want to do it?’’ she asked him, with a flirty tone. He quickly untied his belt as she kneeled before him, his pants were thrown away. She began to palm his cock, but he still had his boxer on, so it was pure torture. He wanted to touch her so bad, but he also wanted to fuck that brat dominant attitude out of her later. She slowly takes them off, freeing his length. Y/n licks her lips before looking up at John, who was breathing fast, he was controlling himself in order to keep his hands to himself. Those poor bedsheets, getting pulled so hard, he thought he was going to rip them. She kept caressing his thigh, moving her hands higher every time, she was teasing him, and she was enjoying it way too much. She eventually reached his cock; she began kissing the top of it. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt her delicate hands stroke his cock, he exhaled in pleasure.

Y/n was enjoying this moment, having this man practically begging for her. Even though he was too proud to beg, she could tell by the sounds he made that he wanted her to do something more. ‘’You’re doing so good, Major’’ she praised him. His body reacted to the praise in a way that was almost embarrassing, he secretly loved being praised. She pressed wet kisses on the tip, then, without warning, Y/n took John’s dick in her mouth. ‘’Ah, shit’’ he groaned, lifting his hand from the bed, but quickly grabbed the sheet back to prevent his hand to touch her. She began to suck him with a rapid pace, she was teasing him by often changing the rhythm. One of her hands was on the base of his length, stroking him slowly while her mouth was sucking him fast. He was in heaven, he was going to die; but what a great way to go, he thought. Bucky was dizzy from the feeling of her mouth and hand working at the same time. His stomach was contracting as he felt the sweet feeling of his climax coming. ‘’D-darling, I’m really, ah, fucking, shit, close’’ he moaned. She kept going, but her hand started to go faster. ‘’Come on, be a good boy and cum for me’’ she encouraged him. That was all it took to send him over the edge and make him see stars. Y/n felt his release in her mouth, but his cock kept twitching. His knuckles were white, practically blue.

She didn’t stop sucking him, it was a very slow pace, but she wanted to drive him mad. His thoughts were gathered, but he was still dizzy from the orgasm he just had. ‘’W-what are you – oh I can’t, it’s too much’’ he whimpered. ‘’Please, darling’’ he breathed out. She decided that it was time for her game to stop, she mentally prepared herself to what was going to happen as she took his cock out of her mouth. She whipped the sperm on her lips and suck on them. She had that proud grin on her face that made him crazy. ‘’You were such a good boy, respecting the rules. So you win, I’m yours to do whatever you-‘’ she yelped as she was thrown on the bed. He was mad, she’d been teasing him for what felt like hours, she was going to get the same fucking treatment.

Bucky crawled on top of her, he kissed her hungrily, he wasn’t playing her stupid game anymore. His hand trailed down to her panties, he needed them off, he pulled them off her and threw them away. His hands still next to her entrance, he felt how bad she enjoyed teasing him. ‘’Look how soaked you are, all that from a little game. Tell me, darling, did you enjoy this? Making me moan and beg for you?’’ he growled. She moaned in response, but he wasn’t satisfied, he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. ‘’I didn’t hear you. Did you enjoy having me at your mercy? Playing your little game?’’ he said, with a husky voice. ‘’Yes- yes sir’’ she stuttered, he smirked at her answer before entering one finger inside of her.

She arched her back as he began pumping in and out of her, their lips were so close together, but he wasn’t letting them touch. ‘’Look who’s moaning now, bet you weren’t expecting that, uh?’’ he teased, against her lips. She shook her head as he entered another finger inside of her. ‘’Please, let- ah let me kiss you’’ she begged. He chuckled as he moved his fingers faster. ‘’C’mon, darling, you can beg more than that’’ he teased. She rolled her eyes in pleasure as she swallowed her pride and decided to surrender to him. ‘’Please sir, please kiss me. I need you-shit please sir’’ she begged. He was smiling like the devil, God she was amazing. ‘’That wasn’t so hard.’’ He croaked before kissing her passionately, their tongues were dancing together. He kept moving his fingers inside of her until he felt her walls clench around his fingers. ‘’You’re close?’’ he asked. She nodded, biting her lips. The knot in her stomach was ready to burst, but at the last minute, he took his fingers out, denying her from the sweet pleasure she deeply craved. ‘’No’’ she whined as she wiggled her hips to get any form of friction that could trigger her orgasm. But Bucky was not having it, he put one hand on her hips, to keep her still. ‘’Nah ah, only good girls get to cum. You’ve been a brat with an attitude, so you’re going to fucking beg me, and until I say so, you don’t get to cum, do you understand?’’ he ordered. She whined before nodding. ‘’Yes sir’’ she said, biting her lips. She wanted to argue with him, say fuck it and ride him, but she was enjoying this.

She felt tear form in her eyes from the frustration she was feeling as he put two fingers inside of her, but this time, he kissed her body until he reached her clitoris. He was going to eat her out and finger her at the same time, she was a moaning mess, her brain couldn’t even think properly. Bucky knew her brain was fried, and she temporarily forgot that she had to beg for an orgasm. Her thighs were shaking for that much stimulation, her hands were in his hair, pulling his curls as she came closer to an orgasm again. Y/n completely forgot about his rule, so when he stopped everything, he was doing, she whined again. ‘’Please-ah let me cum. I’m begging you, please sir. I-ah need to cum, please’’ she begged like her life was depending on it. Bucky chuckled as he pressed one last kiss to her clitoris. ‘’On all fours, darling, the only way you’re getting off is on my cock’’ he ordered.

She didn’t know if her arms were strong enough to support her, but still, she got on all fours, waiting for Bucky to do something. ‘’Look at you, on all fours, begging for my cock. We couldn’t guess with that bratty attitude of yours. I guess I have to fuck it out of you, what do you think, darling?’’ he teased. Y/n moaned at what he just said, she was a mess, but God how was she enjoying it. ‘’I would like that very much, sir. Please fuck me’’ she moaned. He chuckled again as he positioned himself at her entrance. The wait was killing her, she ached for him, needing him to fuck her and give her the release she craved. He took her hips as he buried himself inside her. She arched her back as she felt him go deeper than her usual one-night stand. ‘’Shit-oh you’re so f-fucking big’’ she gasped as she tugs on her bedsheets. He started to trust inside of her but slowly, to make sure she felt him, as he trusted back in, he brought her hips towards him. His length went deeper inside of her, making the woman roll her eyes in pleasure. ‘’Please, please, oh shit’’ she mumbled, she didn’t even know why she was saying please, her brain was foggy and couldn’t form a normal thought.

He leaned in, to kiss her spine, he kept pounding into her at a fast pace, he was chasing his own release. After marking her back, one on his hands went under her to play with her breast, pinching her nipple. As he did so, Bucky felt her walls clench in pleasure, he smirked as he understood. ‘’You like that, uh.’’ He breathed out, pinching her nipple again. She arched her back even more as she felt the familiar knot in her stomach form. ‘’I’m close, please, sir. I’m begging you, please let me cum, please’’ she whimpered. ‘’You’re going to cum at the same time as me, understood?’’ he ordered. ‘’Y-yes sir’’ she moaned. She was close, and tired of waiting, so she decided to praise him. ‘’Yes, holy shit, you’re so deep inside me. Making me feel so good’’ she praised, her voice was raspy from all the moaning. Bucky felt butterflies in his stomach at the praise, he knew what she was doing, but hey, could he blame her? ‘’Turn around, I want to see you when I make you cum’’ he ordered as he took his cock out, only to slam inside of her when she was on her back.

He kept kissing her sloppy, her legs were around his waist. She kept whispering soft praise in his ear as he quickened the pace. ‘’C’mon, fill me up. Cum inside of me, I want to feel you’’ she encouraged him. With a powerful trust, he emptied himself inside of her as Y/n’s walls kept clenching his cock. They were moaning, gasping and trying to catch their breaths. Her breath was labored as she came down from euphoria. He was laying on top of her, his dick still buried inside of her. They were both silent for a couple of minutes before he pulled out and got up. Y/n watched as Bucky put his boxer back on and looked for her bathroom, while he was gone, she could properly catch her breath. It was the best sex she ever had. He came back with a warm towel to clean her up.

Bucky was holding her tightly; they were both cuddling. ‘’That was… mind-blowing, darling’’ he chuckled, looking at her. ‘’Best sex I’ve ever had’’ she joined the chuckling as they intertwined their fingers. ‘’Are you staying tonight?’’ she asked him. ‘’I can, but I have to get back on the base tomorrow afternoon, my pass expires tomorrow’’ he explained. She smiled as she snuggled closer to him. ‘’Goodnight, Y/n’’ he kissed the top of her head. ‘’Goodnight John’’ she kissed him on the lips before putting her head on his bicep.

As Bucky fell asleep that night, he promised himself that he was going to see her again, that woman was the most wonderful he ever met, she was funny, sexy, beautiful, smart and she was amazing in bed. That was all he needed, he was going to see Y/n again…

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #master of the air #master of the air imagine #john egan x reader #major john egan #john egan #john bucky egan #mota fic #mota smut

[willyoubemycherryy]

❦𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐!! _𝙱𝚎𝚝-. . 𝚢𝚘-𝚞_ 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍-__𝚞𝚜?-. 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕-_𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?.-. 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢-//?!

𝐼𝑡’𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤😂💕𝑇𝑜𝑝 𝐵𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @eymie @b1mb0slvt @luvlydeja @taylormarieee @missusnora @eleanorbaybars

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜❥ 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚘 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚝, 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗-𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎’𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘, 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎̨𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝, 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔, 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗

“𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅...“

࣪✧. 🜸°. ໒꒱✧. • 𐙚˙⋆.˚.

Don’t let men with recovering orbital fractures finger you in their bed while hospitalized.

If that was ever a rule, spoken or unspoken, boy would they be pissed at you now.

“Wider, bunny. You wanna help me get better right?” Bucky cooed into your ear from where his chest was plastered to your back.

Choking down your moan almost guiltily because you really did want him to feel better, it was one of the things you told him when you’d first seen him after he had finally got back from that awful camp. You had gotten a call (the quickest one of your life) that they had taken him to the hospital immediately, to check the extent of all possible injuries, watch for any possibly contracted diseases, etc.

It was day 3 of him being in there but he’d been misbehaving restless since you’d arrived.

You shouldn’t be too cross with him because he couldn’t help it.

John missed you so much that when he finally got back on familiar ground, what ran through his thoughts was mostly you and then just 2 hours later, you were there. Filling his senses with your sweet scent, filling his hands with the softness of your curves as your lovely voice filled his head. Christ, how he missed you. All of you.

However, his body’s reaction to you after being depraved of you for so long was…intense. To say the least.

While you were worried after his health and overjoyed at having him back, Bucky was on you like a dog on water.

So naturally the second the doctors deemed him well enough to only check up on him every couple hours instead of every 30 minutes, he wasted no time sweet-talking you from your chair into his bed where he currently had 3 of his stupidly thick fingers pumping knuckle deep inside your drenched pussy.

The noise outside reminded you that this was a busy hospital making your arousal spike on edge, the chances of someone opening the door and seeing you with your heaving tits out, pretty dress around your waist, as Bucky made you cry out while your fluttering cunt gaped around his fingers…

“Hnnnggh…I-I’m trying! Y’ hand's just t-too big“, you whine, eyes watering when he thrusts upwards right into the spot that makes your twitching walls gush slick.

“Now now, that’s not it Bunny- this cunt’s just too goddamn small..“ Bucky rasps into your ear, a shiver wracks up your spine.

The only response you could get out was a whine that cut into a watery gasp when he bought his other hand to play with your swollen clit, swirling the wet pulsing nub in firm circles, biting his lip at the gorgeous display you made.

Your ears were beginning to ring with the effort of staying quiet, eyes watering in pleasure and embarrassment when you caught through the haze, just how loud your cunt sounded being thoroughly fucked by John’s big fingers.

The slick in and out of has your eyes mindlessly rolling back, body quivering from how good it feels as you get closer, your pussy practically sucking his fingers in as your walls tighten like a slick fist. John groans in your ear as he looks down, seeing how gone you are with your stretched cunt creaming all over his hand.

“Shhh, so good for me bunny….just like that. Makin’ me feel so much better already.” He whispers in your ear, licking across your jaw before dragging his fingers almost all the way out before sinking them back into your sopping pussy, jaw dropping open in a silent scream with his fat middle finger crooked as he nails your g spot.

Your muscles spasm violently and the original goal of keeping it down, gets further and further in the shadow of your impending orgasm plus Bucky wasn’t helping at all with the pure filth coming out of his mouth. He’d always been a dirty talker, quick witted risqué lines that made you blush even back when he’d first been pursuing you….but this?

“C’mon baby, listen to that..my girls sound so sweet gettin’ a good fucking hm?”

“God I missed you, you’re almost too tight now. Can’t wait til we get home so I can properly break her in.”

“Mhmm bet you feel real good yeah? Yeahhhh you are. Drippin’ everywhere my slutty little bunny.” He hissed into your ear.

Oh dear god.

The moment your hiccuping whines bubbled to desperate moans in your throat, John slapped the hand that had been on your clit over your mouth, muffling your wails as white hot pleasure took you over the edge.

Shudders wrack your body while you cum, clit throbbing in time with your spasming walls while the lack of oxygen and your muffled moans add to the intensity of your orgasm. John’s hand slows a bit as he fucks you through it, almost putting your overstimulated self in a coma, kissing the tear trail down the side of your eyes; cock harder than ever as he waits for you to come down.

“Oooh. That was a good one, wasn’t it baby?”

Hand still over your mouth as you drop your head down in a wrecked “yes”. John hums as he manhandles your limp body around to face him, laying you on his chest and smoothing your dress down right as the door begins to open, uttering one last soaking promise into your ear…

“If you think you felt something now, just wait until we get home…gonna feel how much I missed you when I’m wearing that pussy out.”

godblessamerica???

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #masters of the air #mota #fluff #asks #answered💛🎀 #x reader #smut #john egan x reader #john bucky egan x reader #callum turner smut #john egan #john bucky egan