i hope u know u have destroyed me w ur description of major cleven back there and i expect every detail of major egan’s as well now
P.S CLEVEN SO IS A SPLUTTER
Long love our gushing little eager sprinkler Cleven!
Now, on to Major John Egan who will definitely blush up to his ears regarding what I shall relay over the covers of this our sleepover, but who will nonetheless be tuned in with unabashed curiosity to hear what we make of him and to catch -he dearly hopes- some word of admiration and applause for his pleasing proportions…
Cock-versations: John “Bucky” Egan edition
nsfw (AF!) under the cut:
So we’ve talked about Gale Cleven and his ken doll perfect silicon-esque, beauty pageant pretty cock, how it’s shaped and sized as if to be a dildo, as immaculate as that face he possesses, feels a little otherworldly to be even dealing with it kinda cock.
But Bucky? Oh that’s no cherub for you, that’s a salt of the earth man.
Where Gale Cleven’s appendage could get passed up in a line up of fakes as another perfect fake, there’s something to be said about a cock so singular, rugged and wonderfully human there’s no doubting it’s a genuine -if utterly shocking- article.
If Gale Cleven is a renaissance pillar, John Egan is a gnarled oak tree.
Hear me out:
For one: The sheer size. Tree-worthy, a mighty oak, a stalwart redwood, a hardened maple. But also, a tad bent, and curving up, partly because all that length must go somewhere. And oh -trust me, there’s length. But there’s also girth. But here’s what’s funny, my sweets, length and girth as we have said but were you to lay this cock next to say, bratwurst or the average petite pubic bone, you might be a little shocked by just how large it is. Because when seen in the wild, seen at liberty, attached to the man himself, it appears deceivingly moderate.
It’s the opposite of Cleven’s slim hips and jutting pillar illusion. Instead, with Bucky you’ve got mighty thighs and a huge torso and broad shoulders that could carry the globe. You would be forgiven for thinking he’s nicely equipped while not rightfully proportioning it to you, to the rest of us mortals.
Taken alone or…into oneself, you suddenly realize you’re riding a telephone pole and…now we are back to the tree imagery again. Huge, bent a bit, a tendency to grow and throb the harder he gets, but most of all -we all know and love that very special vein running along the underside of a dick. But for Egan? That whole vein is an extra ridge, like a three leaf clover cock sorta thing: if you’ve seen one you never forget it, and when I tell you it rubs your stretched little rim to madness with it’s extra ridge, I’m not using hyperbole.
Closing thoughts: less of a bright Barbie pink tip like Cleven’s and more of a constant pretty multi shade of purples, all along, sack and all. shockingly huge balls to go with it, even deeper plummy shade for these. perhaps the hottest and warmest cum blast you’ve ever felt, those swimmers have been sheltered and simmered in between those thighs waiting just for you, after all.
I will never emotionally recover from Part Five so instead I’ve chosen to think about the masterpiece that is Trust pt. 2 (seriously top to bottom it was fantastic, truly) and the idea of Bucky “taking care of himself.” Reader is a stronger person than me because if he’d said that, with me knowing it is ME he is likely going to be thinking about, I’d simply evaporate on the spot.
Goodness gracious nonny this ask has truly sent me down the garden path. Nothing but a filthy headcannon under the cut, but after all, Sundays are for smut.
Warnings: Language, Smoking, Mature/Explicit Themes [male masturbation] - 18+ ONLY
Bucky watches you dash off into the night before slowly making his way towards his hut, smoking a cigarette
Can still smell you on his clothes, its doing nothing to ease the aching need in his lower belly
Grabs his shower kit, optimistic that most of the men will still be at the dance
His hopes are confirmed when he finds the shower hut empty, turning the lock on the door behind him
Smirks at the smudges of your lipstick on his throat as he glances in one of the mirrors above the sinks
Strips slowly as he waits for the water to run warm, stepping beneath the spray
Is torn between drawing it out; making the pleasure last, and just giving into it; letting it overtake him
Steps beneath the warm stream of water, bracing one hand against the tile of the wall, letting the other run down his chest, his stomach
Thinks of the way your body felt pressed against his, the delicious noises that fell from your lips
The alluring dampness that soaked through the fabric of his pant leg where you’d straddled his thigh
Wraps his fingers around his length with a throaty moan and it’s no longer a question of making it last as he begins sharp, twisting strokes
Sighs your name as he presses his forehead against his bicep, bucking his hips in time with the rhythm of his fist, clenching his eyes tight as his thoughts drift to the way your soft hands might feel on his most sensitive flesh
Bucky’s toes dig into the tile floor as his pace quickens, panting thickly into the steam that is accumulating around him
“ah…f…fuck…” he grunts harshly, the muscles of his lower abdomen jumping erratically as he begins to lose his tempo
Shifting his thumb to circle his sensitive tip is all it takes for his orgasm to rip through him, spilling his release over his fist and onto the shower wall
Grins lazily against his arm as he cups his hand under the stream of water before splashing it against the wall to rinse it clean, leisurely finishing up his shower before crawling into bed for some remarkably restful sleep
These Protective!Bucky asks are making me lose my mind. We know reader can take care of herself but shit is out of control. My mom always tells me (somewhat) jokingly if I die before her she’ll kill me lol. I have this vision that either on base or in the air, reader is in a serious enough situation that when Bucky returns she’s been sedated. When she wakes up he looks horrid and says to her, “Christ honey, I think I need to remind you if you die before me, I’ll kill ya.” (Later she finds out while she was unconscious that the doctors were somewhat seriously considering sedating Bucky just for some goddamn peace).
Bucky sees the red flares from your fort as it nears the runway and dashes down the stairs to his jeep
Tails the ambulance out to your hard stand, stomach plummeting to see that it’s you the crew is sliding out of the hatch onto the waiting stretcher
There’s so much blood, across your face, down your neck, soaked through the bandages around your head
“What the hell happened?!” He snaps at the nearest crew member
“Took some flack near her position, sent her flying back into the radio equipment…she’s been out cold ever since”
“Shit” he hisses and jumps back into the jeep, practically racing the ambulance to the hospital
They’ve got you in triage, behind privacy screens, and he’s pacing back and forth like a caged lion
Reaches one edge of the bed frame before swinging his head back to retrace his steps, practically wearing a hole in the floor
“Major…” the doctor startles him out of his inner turmoil and he looks up sharply
“We’ve got the wound stitched closed, I do not feel comfortable transferring her until she regains consciousness, but the rest of her vitals are good thus far”
“When will she wake up?” Bucky asks
“We don’t know when, or if, that will happen, Major, head wounds are a tricky business. We just have to wait and see.”
So Bucky pulls up a chair to do just that, hands buried in his hair as he sits at your bedside for what seems like hours
You look so fragile in the hospital bed, a stripe of your hair shorn away so they could stitch your scalp laceration
Eventually feels a stirring of your fingers clasped in his hand, the change in your breathing
“Bucky?” You wheezed, obviously confused to see him, to be where you are
“Christ, honey. I think I need to remind you, if you die before me-”
“You’ll kill me, I know…has Meatball been gnawing at your hair, hon?” You tease, lifting an abnormally heavy limb to ruffle his curls
“You should see what they did to yours” he tries to joke back but his voice comes out fractured and he presses his face to your abdomen, shoulders shaking with the effort to restrain the emotions trying to break free
“Shhh John, I’m here, I’m alive”
“You’re gonna stay that way, goddamnit. I’m gonna see to it personally, even if it kills me”
So I’ve been doing some thinking, none of it very chaste and much of it illogical, and not a bit of it remotely profound but hear me out:
If we were to assume that the Trust Universe shared the same multi-verse as Parting Gifts…
…that would mean we’ve got two men in the 100th, Brady and Bucky, who (at least for a time in the case of Egan) kept it in their pants while being very generous to their crushes.
Which brings me to the entirely inane conclusion that such a fact makes these two particular men at Thorpe Abbots really eager for the damn showers to clear out for some alone time. One reminiscing of honeyed stateside indulgences and the other of more recent stargazing.
And I just wanna imagine the hilarity of running into each other just when they plot and plan and scheme for the showers to be all theirs.
Marina!!!! I still am not over how you dropped this in my inbox in the middle of the night 🫠
Mature/explicit answer under the cut - 18+ only
I feel like Brady had the shower routine down first. After all he’d been fighting his urges with his sweetheart for weeks and then was wrenched from her arms and drowning in memories.
And slipping into the tiled space at odd hours worked great in Nebraska, in Utah. All the other boys were happily getting their rocks off in warm-blooded women while he’d relegated himself to his fist from the start. Ah that damn Catholic self-deprivation!!!
While Egan favours a one-handed style, I see Brady preferring to get both hands in on the action? Leaving no part of his nether reaches neglected, particularly those remarkable balls.
When he’s alone, he’s alright at being quiet, he has yet to discover just how loud you can make him. That’s a treat for his victorious return stateside after the war 😉
But after arrival at Thorpe Abbotts, there’s new ground to learn, and then all of a sudden that womanizer Egan with his voracious appetite isn’t just taking what he wants, he’s trying to take over Brady’s sanctuary?!
He’s on his way to a mid-evening shower, a time that’s rarely been a conflict before, only to see all 6’2” of Egan casting surreptitious glances about and not at all subtly sliding into the shower hut before the thunk of the lock sounds.
A major pivot is required and utilizing his knowledge of the Major, Brady settles on morning trips down memory lane. Those days he’s not on missions, when everyone else is at breakfast and Egan’s either in the air, operations room, or still in bed - that’s how he avoids what would surely be an awkward encounter for them both.
Would be rather adorable to see their bright red cheeks and ears though….🤭
“Nothing sexier then a fictional man suddenly noticing an injury on their love interest and going unnaturally still, their eyes darkening, their voice hardening with deathly quiet as they say "who did this to you?"
I can so see this with Bucky😘😅
Nonnnyyyyy I’m weak.
I’ve been stewing and simmering on this and cooking a lil’ somethin’ up for ya. I’m going to write it in what I am now calling the songbird universe (a sure sign this is going to turn in a fic someday) as a follow-up/related to this ask.
Reader injury, classism under the cut
Your interactions with the handsome American Major had not gone unnoticed by the well born girls
They had gone out of their way to bat their eyelashes at him, flaunting their perfectly coiffed hair and polished accents, yet he continued to seek you out in his free moments
Asking naive questions about crops or trying (in vain) to help you round up the cows that one time they ran amuck across the base
The last straw was apparently when he’d asked you to attend the dance with him that night, within earshot of them all
They’d set up a trap for you in the barn, knowing you were usually the last to file in for the night, burying a pitchfork beneath the straw so you might step on the tines and lever the handle into your unsuspecting face
It worked with brutal precision, the wood handle with its metal core cracking against your eyebrow sharply making you cry out in pain as they dashed off into the evening, their cruel laughter echoing in their wake
You stumbled back with tears of pain and mortification streaming down your face
By the time you made it back to your billet your eye was barely open and tender to the touch, the mother of the family you were quartered with clucking and fussing to get some ice on it as the rest of the girls filed past in their lovely dresses to head to the dance
“Don’t worry we’ll tell him you changed your mind”
Dashed up to bed knowing there was no way you could show your face, this face at the dance
Were working out in the field the next day when you heard his voice chatting with some of the other officers
Carefully turned your back to continue working but the wind caught your hat and your quickly spun to to try and grab it and suddenly his voice died on his lips as his eyes landed on your face
You rapidly looked down, giving your hat up for lost, but the sound of his footsteps swishing through the barley followed by his hand gently landing on your shoulder sealed your fate
“Songbird, who did this to you?” His voice had a sharpened edge to it, not unlike honed steel, and you frowned, shaking your head quickly
“Freak accident with a pitchfork…” you lied, glancing up at him slowly
He gently pinched your chin in his thumb and forefinger, though the tension in his body was anything but gentle
“I’ve had my fair share of shiners in my life…you got this last night didn’t you. The very night you ‘changed your mind’ about coming to the dance with me?” He raised an eyebrow skeptically and you gulped painfully
“Was it the stuck up blonde or her brunette friend with the horse teeth?” He asked
You guffawed at his irreverent choice of words and he grinned slightly, pressing his lips to your forehead just above your swollen, split brow
ahaha these insufferable!bucky people are killing me. funny but also serious I can imagine bucky walking into a room and someone going if it isn’t major loverboy and at the time bucky gives his usual affectionate fuck-off but then later he’s walking with buck and totally checks out of the conversation and randomly goes holy fuck I’m in love with her. Buck is like. Yeah. And Bucky is like YOU KNEW AND DIDN’T TELL ME? Buck is like. Oh Christ Bucky I think the entire allied forces know at this point except you.
“Eisenhower called, asked when you’re gonna propose” 😂
