#buck x Bucky
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bluebird (a clegan drabble 1.5k)
Buck’s mouth tastes like bubblegum and wood. Mint gum, toothpicks, and John’s cigarettes. Flavor stolen right out of John’s own mouth. Sweet, a little bit of smoke, and an early-morning sourness that meant Gale had actually slept that night.
John presses closer, tilts his head and nuzzles into the steady broadness of Gale’s body. Nudges a thigh in, sneaky and slow. Smiles, as Gale grunts faintly.
“Easy, Major,” his companion murmurs.
“What?” John lets his voice pout just a bit, “Not lookin’ to walk into briefing standing at attention?”
Gale’s gums are pink when he smiles, white wad of gum clenched safely between molars and lips gone thin with his amusement. John tastes his smile, can’t help it, can’t stop himself from wanting to feel it against his own mouth, his own lips. Gives him a bit of tongue, a bit of cheek and a nip to the bottom lip that has Gale grunting again, a hand on John’s chest and the other fisting his shirt at the back, untucking it from his belt.
“Just ‘cause you like the color blue doesn’t mean you need a ticket that color.”
happy 1 year to these gay idiots
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thinking about Gale with a soft smile on his face every time he sees John, without fail it will quirk up his lips, no matter what bcs John's his darling
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²⁴⁾ the lap of someone who’s been gone for too long - kitty Gale, please!
Thank you for the ask! This is also a fill for one of my bingo prompts: touch-starved.
It's already dark outside when Bucky finally makes his way up the porch steps and slots his key in the front door. He turns it carefully, holding all the other keys on his chain tight in his palm. The door opens without a sound. Gale must have worked on the squeaky hinges while he was away. Could never stand such tinny noises for long.
The warm smells of home embrace him as he shrugs his coat off and puts his shoes next to Gale's as gingerly as if they were made of glass. He leaves his bag on the floor. Gale's present can wait until tomorrow. Padding inside on socked feet, Bucky makes his way through the labyrinth of silhouettes towards the bedroom. A light would give him away, so he doesn’t bother with it, just hopes that Gale hasn't rearranged anything that would break Bucky's toes if he kicked it. A risk he’ll have to take.
He's just about to skirt around the big, worn armchair that he and Gale fight about sometimes when he hears a soft thud to his right, then a figure pops up in front of him, seemingly out of thin air.
"Fuck!" Bucky exclaims, jumping reflexively. Then the sweet warmth of amusement blooms in his chest, bright and familiar. He got caught. He barks a laugh at the same time as Gale's snicker reaches his ears.
"Did you think you could surprise me?" Gale's voice rumbles close to Bucky's face. There’s a coy tone to it, something that weaves itself around Bucky’s body like a cat rubbing against his legs.
Blindly, Bucky leans in, a man starved. By some miracle or simply because Gale can see in the dark, the kiss lands where it should - on Gale’s plush lips, soft and curving where he can’t push down on his smile. I missed you, Bucky half hums, half mumbles, doesn’t get a single audible word out but Gale makes a quiet sound in return and loops his arms around Bucky’s waist. He presses his entire body to Bucky, as if he can’t decide if he wants a hug or another kiss or just wants to climb Bucky like a tree.
Bucky’s smile digs the crow's feet deeper around his eyes as he trails his kisses to Gale's cheek. "Thought you'd be asleep."
"I was." Gale purrs. His back rumbles with it, a restless rhythm that matches his breathing. It gives him away. His excitement, joy and relief pour out of him no matter how calm his voice is. "Did you really think I wouldn’t hear you?"
Bucky chuckles. "I'll get you one day."
"Sure, Bucky." Pitched low, Gale's voice trembles directly against Bucky's ear. Gale's stubble tickles his skin as Gale noses a path down along Bucky's neck, then starts nuzzling the tender crook of it, where Bucky's sweater is pulled askew.
"I missed you." Bucky repeats, combing through Gale’s hair because he knows Gale loves it. Oh, how long he’s been starving for this, to cradle his love in his arms. He was away too long. He never wants to leave again. "Did you miss me?"
Gale nips his neck, leaning heavily into Bucky’s embrace and taking deep, shuddering breaths. Still purring. "Missed you warming my chair."
"So spoiled." Bucky teases, grabbing at Gale’s side with one hand and feeling for said armchair with the other. "Such a princess."
He plops down on the thick cushion, pulling Gale along with him, into his lap. The old chair groans but bears their weight as it always does. Its fabric feels warm under Bucky's ass. Did Gale sleep curled up here as a cat, unwilling to spend the night alone in a large, empty bed? He can imagine it so clearly. A ball of cream-white fur tucked against the chair's arm, mournful eyes fixed on the front door until exhaustion pulled them closed.
Gale doesn’t reply to his teasing. He’s too busy trying to fit as much of himself against Bucky as he can, unsatisfied with the limits of their bodies, then he stills. Slowly, perhaps to savour it, he presses his lips to Bucky's again. The darkness hides his expression, but Bucky feels his longing all the same. It’s an echo of his own. He would climb inside Gale's skin to be closer to him if he could.
"I'm gonna shift, okay?" Gale asks quietly.
Bucky rubs their noses together. "Go ahead, doll."
For a moment, Gale lets his head drop to the crook of Bucky's neck again. Then, the arm curled around Bucky's neck pulls back, the weight on his lap changes, the brush of fabric under Bucky's palm gives way to silky fur, and in a blink, it’s not human Gale sitting on his thighs anymore, but a large cat.
"There you are." Bucky smiles at him, running his palm along his back.
Gale pushes into the touch for a moment, then paws at Bucky’s sweater. It’s not something that surprises Bucky. Not anymore. He pulls the hem of the garment away from his belly, and Gale doesn’t waste any time playing coy now, he tucks himself right inside. Hot and cozy against Bucky's stomach, purring away. Bucky sticks his hand inside his sweater and lays it on Gale’s back to hold him close.
He's home.
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So I finally got round to reading this and it was 100% not what I expected. I thought it would be some kind of caper fic (which I love), but then I started reading the tags and comments on Tumblr, and began to Suspect.
It was such a beautiful, unpredictable ride from start to finish. YES it was fun, but also complex and layered and the relationships and characters were so well built! It was devastating at moments too, full of fear and dread, and I just found it a really emotive, entertaining fic
@blixabargelds - it more than comes through that you had fun writing this fic! I hope it was half as much as I had whilst reading it <3
one way, or another
(clegan, oneshot, 18.8k)
Bucky nods toward the empty space. It’s smaller than a coffin. Gale had a growth spurt last year. “You wanted an abduction, kid, not a vacation.”
Gale resents the word kid. Bucky doesn’t look much older than him. His brain keeps picking up on the most insignificant details to stress over. “I did. I do. But-”
Bucky wags his finger. He’s still smiling, and there really isn’t any malice in it as he says, “my rules now, yeah? C’mon, cowboy. Get in the trunk.”
Gale’s father owes money to some bad people. Gale wants to disappear. Two birds, one stone.
playlist • graphic by the ever incredible @mildharm
#fic rec#mota fic rec#clegan#buck x bucky#mota au#kidnapping fic#fun and gutting in equal measure <3
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan Characters: Gale "Buck" Cleven, John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Bernard "Benny" DeMarco, Curtis Biddick, John B. "Jack" Kidd, Charles "Crank" Cruikshank, Everett Ernest Blakely Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pre-Relationship, Emotional Hurt, They're Both Still Idiots in This One, Some Sexism and Classism Series: Part 2 of American Summary:
Gale had a problem, and his name was John Clarence “Bucky” Egan.
Handsome enough to strike Gale dumb, he was also funny, smart, capable, and tooth-decayingly sweet.
Gale had the worst sweet tooth.
aka the one where omega Gale has no idea what the hell is happening with traditional alpha John and gets his feelings hurt in the confusion
#traditional abo au#clegan#mota#abo#gale cleven#john egan#buck x bucky#bucky x buck#gale x john#john x gale#omegaverse
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Happy 1st Birthday Masters of the Air! As a birthday present and to mark off a bingo square for MoTA’s 1st Birthday Bingo with @mota-collab, here is my new story “Lucky” on AO3. You’ll find the bingo square it’s for at the end of the story.
I’m definitely no @hogans-heroes @joeyalohadream @swifty-fox @blixabargelds @rambleonwaywardson (who are my heroes!!) and so many others but I had an absolute blast writing this fic. I may not be the most talented or prolific but I love MoTA and I love this fandom and the little family we’ve got here. That’s enough of a reason to celebrate for me. I’m the one who feels - yes, you guessed it - “lucky.” 🥰❤️
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62302900
Summary:
Gale’s two ill-fated Bremen missions result in a catastrophic injury and getting shot down. This is the story of those two missions, two pilots falling in love and one sheepskin jacket.
#buck x bucky#masters of the air#mota#mota fanfic#gale cleven#gale cleven whump#john egan#protective john egan#clegan#mota 1st birthday#mota 1st birthday bingo#whump that guy#austin butler#hurt gale cleven#gale cleven hurt comfort#hurt/comfort#callum turner#lucky#lucky fanfic#my first fic over 10k words
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Hear me out:
Marge says John's name in bed.
Maybe it's when Gale is out on pass. Maybe it's after the war. But they're in bed and she yells it out, totally unmistakable. It would have been fine if she said 'Bucky' because she could write that off as moaning after saying 'Buck'. Except she said John.
And thinks that's it: the end of her relationship and/or marriage.
Except Gale goes off and comes harder than he ever has in his entire life, and says John's name, too.
And when their brains resolidify conversations are to be had. Meanwhile John is miles away missing his best friend and his spitfire girl and feeling a bit angry at the world that there wasn't a spot for him (by his own judgement) in their lovely life together.
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Idk about you but in my mind gale is dropping to his knees in the most random moments of the day. John may be sitting on the couch reading and suddenly, when he peeks under the book, there’s Gale on his knees, unbuckling his pants with a nonchalant face and when he struggles to pull his pants all the way down he looks up at john with a disappointed look “a little help maybe?” And john lifts his hips with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
Maybe John is pouring himself a cup of coffee when Gale moves the chair to make some space for himself and tugs his sweatpants down with a hum, like he’s appreciating the fact that the sweats make it easy to free John’s cock.
“Jesus, Gale” John exclaims as he grips the edge of the table. A muffled “huh?” Reaches his ears, as if gale is confused by his confusion and then all coherent thoughts leave John’s mind as he feels a wet warmth around his length.
Maybe they have guests over. John sitting on the couch, nursing a drink as he chats with curt and he feels the persistent gaze. When he looks, he sees gale’s eyes locked on his body, not his face or his eyes but his thighs or crotch. He feels a flush creeping up his face when gale doesn’t look away, seemingly unbothered that he’s been caught. John observes as Gale exchanges few words with brady seating next to him but his gaze is unwavering. John sits up from his slouching position and that seems to break the haze and Gale finally looks up. John tilts his head in question, eyes narrowed as if asking “what the fuck, buck?” But gale just smiles, all innocent and licks his lips.
When their friends leave and they finish tidying up the house, john slumps on the couch again with a tired sigh and not even a full minute later there’s gale, between his legs, nuzzling his thigh and breathing heavily. John grips his jaw and tilts his face up, forcing him to look him in the eyes and Gale’s eyes flutter, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“This what you need, doll?” John asks as he palms himself through the jeans and Gale lets out a soft hum. “Jesus, look at you… couldn’t think about anything else all evening, is that right baby?”
“Your fault” Gale mumbles, dazed. “You have no manners, always sitting like…” he trails off, swallowing hard, like he’s mouth is full with saliva. Eyes still trailing down and stopping at John’s crotch. Shaking fingers raising to reach, to touch but then Bucky grips his wrist and tightens his hold on Gale’s jaw to get back his attention and gale whines, like a petulant child, who’s denied his favorite dessert.
“Let me…”
“Look at me”
But Gale doesn’t, so John has to actually make it hurt, his knuckles white as he forces Gale to look him in the eyes. The look on his face makes something sadistic awaken inside him. Smirking, he lets go of Gale’s wrist and starts unbuckling his belt himself. John reaches inside his boxers and tugs his cock free, already hard and gives himself few slow strokes. When Gale tries to reach with his hand again John growls at him
“Don’t” and he gets a pathetic whine in response. “Look at me” he warns him and Gale shudders, forces himself to look at John’s face and not his leaking cock.
“Can’t believe…” John groans as he tuns his thumb over the tip. “Gale Cleven, calm, collected and drooling for my cock” Bucky laughs as Gale moans in response. Then, as desperate as he is, Gale fights against his hold until he manages to catch one of John’s fingers in his mouth. Sucking and drooling all over it, eyes dropping to catch the sight of John stroking himself. Gale whines around the finger when he sees precome collecting at the tip. John realizes then that Gale mimicks the rhythm of his hand movements. When he slows down, Gale does too and when he picks up the pace so does he.
Then, because John feels uncharacteristically cruel, he releases Gale’s jaw and grips the hair on top of his head instead. Forces his face closer to his cock but not close enough and let’s out a cruel, mocking laugh when Gale thinks he can finally reach his cock and sticks his tongue out to get a taste but John just tugs his head back and the sob Gale lets out almost makes him give up the act.
Frustrated, Buck tries to touch him with his hands but John is quick to gather his wrists with his hand, fingers damp with his own precum.
“Please, John”
“Who are you talking to, Gale? My eyes are up here” Gale looks at him, wets his lips and repeats “please”. John releases his wrists
“Hands behind your back” and gale is so obedient that John feels himself wavering. He tugs gales head closer to his crotch and laughs in amazement as his mouth opens wide immediately, like a reflex.
“You’re gagging for it, doll”
#buck x bucky#clegan#should I continue? im kinda sleepy do idk#this is inspired by Callum’s inability to sit like a normal person and close his legs#who’d blame gale?
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We talk about Gale having problems with touch (rightly so) but how about Bucky? After everything that happened after he was captured, what if in the stalag he can’t stand to be touched or approached quickly, startles easily, or shys away from well-meaning touches from even those he knows. It would be devastating to the guys because it’s Bucky. He was always the most physically affectionate of them all, was always chipper and hanging all over everyone, random casual touches all the time. And now he flinches, curls himself up. Eyes afraid yet ashamed at his own reaction. The only exception is Gale who knows from personal experience what this is like and can carefully and gently help John work his way back.
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Fine, mota greys anatomy au! Brought to you by me and @darkimpala1897
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
•John’s a pediatric surgeon spending the last five years of his life pining for Doctor Gale Cleven, a neurosurgeon too far buried deep in his work.
•The two are best of friends—more or less a forced friendship from John’s end—they take their lunches together everyday, practically only being separated by the OR.
•Things start to take a turn in their relationship when John invites Gale over for Thanksgiving dinner. John knew Gale always spent his holidays alone and this year it just happened to be that John was too busy to travel home for the holidays.
•Long story short they end up sleeping together and things start to get a little messy…
•Doctor Curtis Biddick, an orthopedic surgeon who left New York for Seattle after a messy divorce from his ex-husband Dickie. Finding himself in trouble when he falls for a fresh-out-of-med school oncology resident, Doctor Ken Lemmons.
•The situation boiling over when Dickies brought in for a neonatal surgery case. Curt suddenly confronted by his ex-husband—that he conveniently never mentioned to Ken.—for Curt old wounds are ripped open, Ken’s hurt, and Dickie might just stir the pot for fun?
•Then there’s Hambone, the self proclaimed ‘baby whisperer’ of the hospital. He’s a NICU nurse and can calm the fussiest of babies.
•Everett Blakely, the nurse who gave a handful of people syphilis. But now only has eyes for fellow pediatric nurse, Helen who’s part of John’s surgical team.
•Bubbles a paramedic with a contagious laugh and a huge crush on Harry the ER receptionist. Harry always pretends to be annoyed by Bubbles sometimes but everyone knows he secretly looks forward to his visits.
•Bubbles often leaves little trinkets or little notes on Harry’s desk, like toy dinosaurs, those little plastic babies, origami animals. Harry keeps all of them in his drawer but he wouldn’t ever admit that.
•Doctor John Brady, the best cardiology surgeon in Seattle and a chronic workaholic. He’s involved with one of his residents, Benny Demarco, he tries to keep it strictly professional but on his hard days he relies on Benny for emotional support.
•Bubbles truly believes that the Starbucks in the hospital has the best coffee ever.
•John LOVES wearing scrubs, “it’s like wearing pajamas!” Is what he says.
•John also wears fun scrub tops because he works with kids. His minions scrub top is his favorite and in his weak rotation. He also wears fun colored crocs with cool socks.
•Gale is protective of John, but he chalks it up to being “a good friend.” He’ll snap at other surgeons if they criticize John in meetings and will go out of his way to make sure John eats something during his 48-hour shifts.
#mota greys anatomy au#mota#masters of the air#mota au#buck x bucky#bubbles x crosby#curt x ken#brady x benny#theo writes
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I just need Bucky to be a whimpering mess tbh
no but anon you're so fucking right for that, need Bucky to be ABSOLUTELY pathetic with it, you know he's shivering and whimpering when he first fucks into Gale, panting and gasping as he tries to move but he's so desperate he's basically only humping Gale, oh God Gale would be so mean to him
"can't even fuck me right? come on John I know you know how to make me feel good," Gale would say, trying to act all nonchalant but he has to admit he's also crazy turned on by John's whimpers and cries, you just know he gets off on making his big strong boy come completely undone
maybe he slaps him, maybe he chokes him, maybe he rides John into the bed until he can't form anymore words, holding his forearm across John's neck to keep him down, John with tears running down his face because of how good it hurts
wringing orgasm after orgasm from him, riding him and shoving John's cock down his throat until John's hips thrust up in almost pain, choked groans and whimpers getting caught behind his teeth as he tries to hold onto Gale, maybe Gale allows it and huffs at the way that John grips him so tight, loves the bruising fingerprints on his arm because of how tight he's holding onto him
God really do need John crying on it fr, he'd be so pretty with glassy eyes and red cheeks, lips bitten raw bcs he's trying not to scream in pleasure omfg it's so good
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Is it me or does Callum look bigger?😭 I love that he's bigger than Austin no matter how big Austin gets. I love their size difference
One of the fandom hc i love is that Bucky covers Gale as a whole like he's trying to protect him from the world especially in the stalag like a big mama bear
I think one of the reasons why he looked so big at Sundance was that he was surrounded by much shorter people. The wide jeans and big sweater also contributed. It’s also possible that he did bulk up but I think it was more of an impression thing.
Yes, I love the size difference too! It seems bigger than it actually is because, both in body and personality, John's character always spreads outwards while Gale is very tightly contained. I love John being protective of Gale, trying to shield him with his own body and comfort him with his own warmth. 🥺❤️
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Cold Kisses (TWS)
Summary: The winter soldier always comes to you for help after a mission. He hardly speaks, let alone kisses you after a treatment...
Warnings: a kiss? flangst?
WC: 794
Read on ao3!
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The quiet hum of the medical bay was a stark contrast to the chaos that had undoubtedly unfolded on the mission. You adjusted the strap of your medical kit, fingers steady despite the anxiety that curled in your stomach. The Winter Soldier, the lethal assassin whose presence had haunted your every shift, was back. He had returned after every mission, but today... something felt different.
The door to the med bay creaked open, and there he stood—his cold eyes hidden behind the mask, his body battered and bruised from the violence that had unfolded. He didn’t speak. He never spoke unless absolutely necessary. His steel grip held the doorframe, his breath a shallow exhale.
You stepped forward, your professional mask slipping on as you took in his condition. The bloodstains on his combat gear, the bruises, the cuts, the faint but unmistakable signs of a mission gone wrong. He had returned before, but the desperation in his eyes today was something else entirely.
“Winter Soldier,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “You’re hurt.”
He nodded stiffly, moving past you toward the medical table. His movements were deliberate, controlled, but you could tell there was pain in each step. He sat down with a low grunt, his body too worn for his usual icy stoicism.
“Let me assess you,” you said, setting your kit down beside him. You kept your voice steady, though your hands betrayed you with their subtle tremor. The air in the room thickened as you began to examine him, your fingers brushing lightly over his bloodied skin, checking for injuries. You didn’t want to ask questions you knew he wouldn’t answer. But you couldn’t ignore the feeling that this mission had taken something more from him than usual.
The metal arm—his most iconic feature—was scratched, battered, a reminder of the relentless nature of his work. You gently checked his wrist, noting the way he winced but kept his gaze forward, unmoving. The silence between you two was familiar, but today it felt heavier.
“Your arm?” you asked, though you weren’t sure why you bothered. It wasn’t like he’d answer.
A grunt was his only response.
You moved on, your fingers tracing over a bruise on his side, one of many that had begun to form beneath his tactical vest. As your hands brushed against the cool skin of his torso, you could feel the tension in his muscles, the strain of too many fights, too many betrayals. His eyes were fixed on the far wall, and for a moment, you wondered if he was even aware of your presence.
The only sound now was his breathing, shallow and uneven. You frowned as you gently lifted his shirt to inspect the cut across his abdomen. It wasn’t deep, but it would need stitches. You reached for a needle and thread, your hands shaking slightly as you began to stitch the wound shut.
You didn’t mind the silence. It was part of the routine. But today, it felt like a weight, one that had been building with every passing second.
As you finished with the wound, you prepared to clean up the mess, but before you could move, he shifted on the table, his gaze suddenly sharp as he looked at you. His eyes narrowed—like he was studying you. Something in them had changed.
You were so focused on the task at hand that you didn’t notice him moving until it was too late.
Before you could react, he leaned forward with a suddenness that left you breathless, his lips crashing against yours. It was raw, desperate, and completely unexpected. His kiss was fierce, his hands gripping the sides of the table, his body leaning closer until you had no choice but to lean into him. The cold metal of his arm brushed against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours.
Your heart raced in your chest, every muscle in your body frozen in shock. His lips tasted of blood and sweat, the remnants of the mission lingering on his skin. You didn’t know what to do, what to say. The Winter Soldier—this man who had been trained to kill without hesitation—was kissing you, and you had no idea why.
As quickly as it had happened, he pulled away, his face impassive once again, his eyes dark and unreadable.
He didn’t say a word as he stood, his movements stiff but purposeful. You stood there in stunned silence, your lips still tingling from the unexpected kiss.
Without another glance, he turned and walked toward the door, his presence as cold and mysterious as it had always been.
But something in you had shifted, something that would linger long after he was gone.
--
if you enjoyed, please reblog this! leave a comment!
#bucky x reader#buck x bucky#bucky x you#bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#the winter soldier#winter soldier#james buchanan barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x oc#catws#catfa
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Fury
Summary: When Bucky's jealous of Steve, there's only one way to calm the storm— and it involves taking you hard and fast.
Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Note : rough sex, blowjob, jealousy
The tension was suffocating the second you walked back into the room. Bucky was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw clenched so tight you could almost hear the grinding. He didn’t even need to say anything. His eyes—stormy, dark, and fixed on you—were enough to tell you what kind of mood he was in.
You didn’t do anything wrong, at least not intentionally. Steve had been the one who came over, his usual friendly self, maybe standing a little too close, maybe cracking one too many jokes. But it wasn’t like you were encouraging him. Hell, you barely even noticed until you saw the way Bucky’s eyes tracked every single move Steve made around you, like a predator sizing up his prey. The moment Steve walked out of the room, Bucky’s whole demeanor shifted—dangerous, possessive.
And now, here you were, the air thick with the kind of jealousy that could either end in a fight or something way more explosive.
He finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “You looked real comfortable with Steve, huh?”
You froze. Bucky wasn’t one for idle jealousy—when he got possessive, it was something primal, something that burned hot and fast, a storm you either weathered or drowned in. And right now, you were treading water.
“It wasn’t like that,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. But you knew that wouldn’t fly. Not with him.
“Wasn’t it?” He pushed off the wall, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, each one sending a wave of heat through your body. “Looked like he couldn’t keep his fuckin’ eyes off you. And you? You just let it happen.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you shut it right down. His hand was on you in an instant, his metal fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
“You think you can let Steve get that close to you and I wouldn’t do something about it?” His breath was hot against your skin, his voice thick with that dangerous edge. “You’re mine.”
You shivered at the possessiveness in his tone, feeling that familiar pull low in your belly, the one that always came when Bucky got like this—jealous, furious, and desperate to remind you just who you belonged to.
“Bucky—” you tried, but his grip tightened just enough to stop you.
“Shut up.” His words were sharp, demanding, and your knees felt weak. He spun you around so fast you barely had time to catch your breath before you were pressed against the nearest wall, his body pinning you there, hard and unrelenting. “I’m gonna fuckin’ show you what happens when you let another man get close.”
His hand slid down your back, over the curve of your ass, gripping it roughly before he yanked your jeans down in one swift move. You gasped, your palms flat against the cold wall as he kicked your legs apart with his foot. His hand came down on your bare skin, a sharp slap that sent a shockwave of pleasure and pain shooting through you.
“Fuckin’ Steve...” he muttered darkly, another slap making you bite back a moan. “Think he can look at you like that?” His breath was hot on your neck. “Hear that, baby? You’re gonna scream for me, so loud, I want him to hear you.”
Before you could process the thought, he was pushing your face down against the wall, his fingers finding your heat, rough and fast, teasing you until you were a mess of whimpers and gasps. “Already so wet, huh?” he growled, pressing himself against you from behind, letting you feel just how hard he was.
You pushed back against him, needing more, needing him to just take what he wanted already, but he wasn’t giving in that easy. He always liked to make you wait, drag it out, make you beg for it. And you were close—so close to begging. But he didn’t give you the chance.
“Fuck this,” he growled, and then he was inside you, hard and fast, filling you completely in one brutal thrust. You cried out, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but there was nothing but the cold, unyielding wall in front of you.
“Bucky!” His name tore from your throat, a mix of pleasure and pain as he fucked you, each thrust harder than the last. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against him with every rough movement, your body jerking forward from the force of it.
“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Let Steve hear you. Let him know who fucks you like this.” His voice was dark, gravelly, and full of possessive fury.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls. Bucky didn’t let up, didn’t slow down—he was relentless, driving into you with a raw, animalistic need. And fuck, you loved it. Loved the way he lost control when he got jealous, the way his hands gripped you so hard you were sure they’d leave bruises. Loved the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered.
You were close, so close, and Bucky knew it. He could always tell.
“You gonna come for me, baby?” His hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. “Gonna scream for me?”
You were already screaming, your body trembling, barely holding on as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. And when you finally fell, it was like a fucking explosion, your whole body shattering as you came hard around him, your cries echoing in the small space.
But Bucky wasn’t done.
He pulled out suddenly, flipping you over onto your back, and before you could catch your breath, he was pushing you down to your knees.
“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. You did as you were told, your lips parting just in time as he pushed himself past them, rough and demanding. You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but he didn’t care. He was too far gone, too consumed by jealousy and lust.
He fucked your mouth with the same intensity he’d fucked you before, his hand gripping the back of your head, guiding your movements as you sucked him. You could feel him twitching, hear his breath coming out in harsh pants as he neared his release.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his hips jerking forward as he came, spilling himself down your throat. He held you there for a moment, making sure you swallowed every drop before finally letting go.
You collapsed against him, your legs weak, your body trembling, and Bucky pulled you up, his arms wrapping around you possessively.
“You’re mine,” he growled into your ear, his breath still ragged. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
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Last Line Tag
I was tagged by @optimisticflicker, thank you and welcome to the MoTA Fandom. We are so glad to have you. 🥰
Here’s a new snippet from my WIP “I Won’t Go Where You Can’t Follow” Chapter 3. I’m just getting back in the groove on this one. Such a sucker for Gale whump.
Bucky wakes up to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He opens his eyes to see John Brady standing over him. Bucky can tell that Brady is worried by the furrow currently taking up residence between his eyebrows. In any other circumstance Bucky might find it endearing but today it just makes him worry too.
Buck’s co-pilot, Benny DeMarco, hovers just over Brady’s left shoulder, looking equally as concerned. The realities of the day that stretches before them hits him all at once. Today they continue to march. He’s reminded of the weight in his arms and he looks down to see Buck’s face.
He can’t hide a grimace. It looks so much worse in the daylight. Buck looks so much worse in the daylight.
Buck’s beautiful face is mottled with bruises. His plush lips are split and swollen, with rivulets of blood dried and crusted over at both corners of his mouth. Both eye sockets are black and blue. And this is just the damage that is visible. Bucky can’t help the fists that his hands create in response to the visage before him.
He takes a deep breath in through his nose and releases it through his mouth. His anger won’t help Buck. He’s got to keep his head about him today because his only job is to put one foot in front of the other and keep Buck on his feet.
He looks up at Benny and Brady and says, “let me wake him up and then I’m going to need your help getting him on his feet.”
They nod grimly. They know the damage Gale has to his ribs and they can imagine the pain that pulling their Major to his feet is about to cause. But it has to be done.
Bucky starts talking to Gale softly. He’s not going to have a lot of time to be gentle with him today so he’s going to savor this last tender moment. “Buck. Hey Buck, I need you to wake up.”
Gale tries to open his eyes and can’t help the moan that escapes his swollen lips. “Aahhhhhhh, Jo’n.”
He then sees he’s got an audience and quickly clamps down on his pain. His men shouldn’t have to see him this way. He closes his eyes again so he can regroup.
Benny and Brady kneel down in front of him. Benny is the first to break the silence. “Hey Major, let’s get you back on those feet. Can we help you get up? So Major Egan can get up too?”
Gale blushes slightly at the acknowledgment he’s been lying in John’s arms. He just nods at them, afraid of what sound he’ll make if he speaks again.
Benny takes one hand and Brady takes his other. They also slide their other hands under his arm pits to further brace him. He bends his knees to try and help. They pull and he feels the world shift out from underneath him. He hears static in his ears and spots begin to creep into the sides of his vision.
He’s upright but suddenly he’s vomiting and he feels two ribs grind up against one another.
Time ceases to have meaning.
He thinks he hears John asking someone to get some water. Then there’s a cup up against his mouth.
“Buck, swish that around and spit it out, okay? Then you can have a little drink. But just a little.”
He feels the cold sweat at his hairline, tricking down his forehead. A hand brushes his hair back, trying to soothe. He’s hunched over like an old man. The pain is unbearable. Is this what it feels like just before you die?
“John?”
“I’m here Buck.”
He looks up and can finally see clearly again, the spots have dissipated from his vision. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
John bites his lip. He’s never heard Gale speak like this before. He never thought he’d hear Major Gale Cleven admit defeat. He won’t allow it.
“Sure you can, Major. You’ve got all of us guys to help you. We won’t let you fall.”
Gale just looks at him, as his eyes go hazy. “Sure Johnny.”
No pressure tagging @joeyalohadream @happy-days19 @middlingmay @onyxsboxes @hogans-heroes @trekkiehood @rambleonwaywardson @heretoobsessstuff @feyd-meowtha @avonne-writes @pinenutpbj @rangerelizabeth @swifty-fox @nicijones @oopsiedaisiesbaby @the-ghost-of-jason-todd @steviewicks45
#masters of the air#mota#mota fanfic#gale cleven#gale cleven whump#john egan#protective john egan#whump that guy#buck x bucky#clegan#austin butler#callum turner#I won’t go where you can’t follow#last line challenge#last line game#last line tag
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I’m, I’m crying in the club right now
What about "oh, honey." for the prompt list? 😊
@onyxsboxes This only took me forever to get to, but it's here now! Hope you like it and it's at least somewhat worth the wait.
Prompt from this list.
The little house was innocuous from outside. A pitched roof lined with overlapping rows of wooden shingles. A chimney that sat smokeless, a few errant weeds growing out the pointing. Two sash windows flanking a front door. Their timber frames looked freshly sanded, and new, glossy paint covered the door.
The drive was a beige and pinkish ashy dirt that dusted when you walked. It was the kind that covered your shoes and your hems no matter what you did. He’d have to remember that for future.
He’d passed a few houses on his way here, but no one lived so close as to look in.
The garden is what surprised Gale the most. It was bursting with life. It wasn’t the perfectly manicured lawns the Caspar Neighbourhood Association preferred, but flowering, fragrant bushes were home to butterflies and bees. The grass was longer and littered with wildflowers, and Gale bet it was soft to lay down on. There was even a stone bird bath. A closer look and Gale saw the bottom was clean, scrubbed from any residue and filled with clean water.
Lucky birds. But Bucky always did like taking care of things.
Gale just hoped he was still one of those things.
It was that hope that brought him here, more than six months since he’d gotten back. Much more. Closer to the year’s mark than he wanted to admit.
It wouldn’t do to make Bucky wait another second, then. He tightened his grip on his field bag.
They hadn’t spoken much since they got home. Bucky called once or twice, and they wrote a few brief letters. More pleasantries than anything else. In every communication, he felt like Bucky was holding himself back, hedging, so unlike any version of Bucky or John he’d ever known. And it had horrified Gale so much that the distance between them seemed too far for their bond to stretch, that he hadn’t known what to say, and that had made things so much worse.
John had asked about the weeding, when he’d be expected to pick up his best man duties, and Gale had never had an answer for him.
The contact had dropped to next to nothing after that. And it had felt like grieving.
Gale missed John like he missed nothing else in the world. More than flying. More than he’s missed Marge over in Europe. And that realisation had told him all he ever needed to know.
So here he was. Hoping that Bucky still had it in him to take in one last Buck, one more time.
He knocked on the door.
No answer.
Gale peered in through both windows. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of life inside. He knocked again, harder, in case Bucky was taking a nap somewhere. Man could fall asleep anywhere if you gave him five minutes.
Nothing.
Gale contemplated his next move. He wasn’t leaving, that was for sure. But the familiar urge to go looking for Bucky whenever he wandered off flickered to life. But this wasn’t Thorpe Abbotts or the Stalag. He didn’t know the lay of the land here. He could search around for a spare key, maybe under one of the plant pots all over the place. Gale surveyed their sheer number with hands on his hips and a determined set to his mouth. Just as he went to take a step forward, he heard from the corner of the house:
“Buck?”
Gale jerked round, his field bag falling from his shoulder.
At the edge of the garden, at the mouth of a narrow passage that led round the side of the house, presumably to the back, stood John Egan.
He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to call this man Bucky, when that name had been synonymous with the larger than life, indestructible Major of the 100th Bomb Group.
The man before him wore a loose shirt, unbuttoned down to his chest. His hair had grown out, and Gale had known it was curly but hadn’t known the devastating affect of it when they were allowed to grow and twist and tighten, and fluff up in the breeze. Gale caught the flash of silver at his collar and over the expanse of skin exposed down John’s chest. He still worse his tags then, and his dual crosses. Gale suddenly wanted to feel them in his hand, trace the familiar letters, press the crosses over John’s heart. He wore shorts, and the shirt covered much of the top of them it was so big.
And his feet were bare. No sandals. No boots. Just bare skin against the grass, toes flush against the springy growth.
John had been prioritising comfort, since they’d parted then. Gale wondered how badly he’d needed it, and if this was one of the only ways he’d been able to get it. God knows Gale had craved it himself, and been too ashamed to ask Marge for it, or let on even the slightest that he just wanted someone to be there. Who understood.
And Marge was many, glorious, wonderful things. But Gale was endlessly grateful that able to understand the horrors of war was not one of them.
“Buck?”
John’s voice wasn’t the strong, teasing drawl he’d known so well. He’d heard it change and shift through those brief phone calls, but here in person it was a different beast altogether.
There was a strain behind it, like there were things, so many things, he was keeping hidden behind the fragile barrier of that Buck. It reminded him of the Stalag, when Bucky had seemed so close to fracturing before he’d been able to knit himself together just enough to get them out.
Him. To get him out. John’d had to wait.
Again.
But Gale had enough of making John Egan wait for him.
“I’m here, John,” he said, taking slow but certain steps forward. He didn’t want to assume; it had been so long. But he was going to lay himself at John’s porch like a dog looking for a home, until he told him to leave. “M’sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot—of the highest order. But I’m here, now. And I…I don’t wanna leave. I’ll go if you want, but I don’t wanna, John. I—”
Gale had never seen John cry. Not when Curt went down. Not when they’d been reunited in the Stalag and torn apart in the Stalag. Not when they took their last flight from Thorpe Abbotts. Many men had cried, but not John.
But he was crying now.
His teeth were bared like something wounded, trying to ward off the helping hand out of fear. His head hung down like he was trying to hide, and he shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes, but there was no mistaking it. His chest jumped with silent sobs and tears dripped off his cheeks onto the ground.
“Oh, honey.” Gale was closing the distance between them, wrapping John up in his arms. He pressed one hand against the thick tumble of John’s curls at the back of his head so he could guide John into the crook of his neck. His other he pressed against John’s back, pulling him as close as they could get.
John tried to fight him. Gale didn’t blame him. He was well aware he had licks coming from John and he had to take them. And he would. But when John pushed he kept pulling. When John hit his back, puling the strength of his punches even now, Gale rubbed his.
When John said wetly into his neck, “No, Buck. No. What are you doing here? Get outta here. Marge.” Gale just shushed him and gave him a kiss to the head that caught the tip of his ear.
“Yes, John. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
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