chelsea's fic library

26 a collection of the fics i read and enjoy multi fandom, characters and rpf 18+ only minors dni

[chelsreadsfics]

have a lot of free time rn so im doing this

[ozarkthedog]

Dr Abbot with a breeding kink?! You’re so right! And I’m screaming it from the rooftops!

I’m imagining the day his partner gives him the go ahead- like we got our test results back, we’re both clean and you had a vasectomy, of course you can cum inside as much as you want

He would go so feral, it would be a sight to behold 🥵😳

pairing: Jack Abbot x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. pussy pronouns. dirty talk. Jack comes in you for the first time.

author’s note: so I blacked out. woke up. then wrote this little filthy piece. 💙

Master List ⋅ Fic Notifs ⋅ Jack Abbot Master List

He’d take you against the front door. No sense in wasting time moving to another spot in his house.

His jeans undone just enough to get his cock out. You hook one of your legs around his hip and clutch his broad shoulders as he easily drives home into your slick warmth since both of you got turned on so fucking fast upon reading the results.

He fucks you so hard and severe, the hinges on the door rattle loudly. You wonder if he’s going to break it down.

His jeans slide down his thighs little by little with every thrust. Your hands wander all over his body before one plants itself on his firm ass that’s now on display and gives it a rough squeeze.

“Gonna fuck my come into this tight little cunt. She’ll be dripping for days.” His dark eyes bore into your wild ones.

You nod, mumbling a breathless response.

“Wanna hear you say it.” Jack insists, punctuating his statement with cruel, powerful thrusts that make you gasp. “Tell me, baby. Tell me how much she wants my come.”

Your head falls back against the door, overstimulated and strung out on sickly pleadure as he slows his hips, waiting for you to reply.

You lick your dry lips and gather your frantic mind to string together the words he wants to hear.

“She needs it.” You whisper, eyes locking with his. “She needs you to come inside her.”

A curse rumbles from Jack’s chest like a dragon waking from its slumber. “That’s right. Gonna fill her up until she’s all pretty and dripping.”

His hold on you grows scarily tight. His pelvis slams into your own as he thrusts his cock as deep as it’ll go. The auburn wiry hairs that litter the base of his girth tease your clit on every shove, forcing you head first over the edge along with him.

It feels like it lasts for days.

Jack pins you against the door as he comes. Shoulders curling, muscles twitching, his head falls into the slope of your neck with a long, dark growl. With every thick rope of white that me empties into your heat, his hips instinctively move closer like he’s trying to burrow under your skin.

Like he’s trying to become one.

It takes you both a few minutes to come down. You stay wrapped together, feeling one another’s heartbeats slowing until he finally lifts his head. He looks you over, staring like he’s seeing the stars of the first time.

“God damn.” He whispers, softly kissing your parted lips. “I’m never gonna let you outta my bed now.”

feel free to scream at me — 💌

[chelsreadsfics]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A story told through texts, tweets, and one pretentious Variety article.

———————————————————————————————————

obsessed with this series

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Kinktober Day 31: Venom/Eddie Brock

Humiliation / double penetration / rough sex

Check my Kinktober Masterlist

warning/tags: smut, minors DNI, humiliation (from Venom and reader to Eddie) vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, creampie, choking, monsterfucking, threesome, aftercare

Weak little man

Eddie was sprawled under you, his shirt was off, and his hair was a mess, his lips already kiss-swollen from how hard you’d been making out. He was needy, but then again, Eddie was always needy. You could feel it in the way he wouldn’t stop roaming his hands all over your body, the way he pressed his hard cock against your core through his jeans. But tonight wasn’t about Eddie. It was about Venom.

Venom slid a ripple of black tendrils over Eddie’s shoulder, coiling across your skin like a snake testing its prey. You gasped softly, not from fear, you were long past that , but from the sharp thrill that always came when the symbiote made itself known.

There was this little game you and V liked to play, a twisted sort of fun where you’d gang up on Eddie, teasing him, humiliating him just a little, for your own amusement. Sometimes it went too far, you both knew that, but it was hard to stop. It was impossible to miss the way Eddie’s cock throbbed whenever a cruel word slipped from your mouth, he hated it and loved it all at once. There was some part of him, a buried part, that reveled in it. He liked hearing the things you and Venom could say, it turned him on to watch you getting well and thoroughly fucked by the symbiote.

“She likes me more than you, Eddie,” Venom rumbled, sounding completely smug in your ear. He flicked his slick tongue across your neck, wet in a way that made you arch into it.

Eddie groaned as he tightened his hands on your hips. “Don’t start—”

“Don’t start?” You smirked, grinding down against him just enough to make his breath hitch. “Baby, you know he’s not wrong. Look at you, already so desperate, and we haven’t even let you inside me yet.”

Eddie flushed. “That’s not—”

Venom cut him off with a laugh. “Pathetic. She needs someone who can ruin her. Someone bigger. Someone who doesn’t whine every time she asks for more.”

You moaned, deliberately loud, wanting Eddie to hear how good Venom felt as he slithered his tendril lower, teasing at the hem of your shorts. “God, he’s right, Eddie. You try, you really do, but Venom… he could split me in half if he wanted. Fill me better than your little cock ever could.”

Eddie bucked his hips up beneath you, half in frustration, half in helpless arousal. “Don’t—fuck, don’t say that, baby—”

“Oh, but she likes saying it,” Venom purred. “Do you think that cock can compare to this?” Venom leaned closer, letting one of his thick, glistening tendrils unfurl before Eddie’s eyes, capable of stretching as long as he wanted, easily outmatching Eddie’s size, he was big for a man, but nothing compared to Venom’s.

You tangled your fingers in Eddie’s hair and tugged his head back, forcing him to look up at you. He parted his lips like he couldn’t catch enough air, looking at you with wild eyes. “Do you hear yourself, baby? Do you hear how pathetic you sound? Begging for me while I’m telling you I’d rather have him. He fucks me into the floor, Eddie. He never gets tired.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, you felt the trembling of his hands against your hips, but his cock still twitched under you, betraying him. You leaned close, whispering cruelly. “God, Eddie… look at you. Hard just from hearing how much better he is than you.”

Venom hissed approval, curling his tendrils possessively around your thighs now, tugging you open wider. “She’s mine. She knows who’s better.”

You let your head fall back, moaning when one slick tendril brushed exactly where you wanted it. “Fuck, Venom… yes. Show him how it feels when someone actually knows what they’re doing.”

Eddie snapped his hips up instinctively, desperate for friction, desperate to prove himself, but Venom was faster. He coiled another tendril around his wrists, pinning them above his head against the couch.

“Stay still, little man. Watch while I touch her.”

You leaned down, kissing Eddie’s mouth messily, biting his bottom lip hard enough to make him gasp. “You can’t stop him, Eddie. You can’t even stop me. You’ll just lie here and take it, won’t you? My needy boy with his little cock, watching while Venom makes me scream.”

Venom curled his tongue around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse flutter. His voice sank lower. “Say it again. Tell him he’s small. Tell him he will never be enough.”

You raked your nails down Eddie’s chest, and you told him. “You’ll never be enough, Eddie. Not when I could have him instead.”

Eddie moaned brokenly into your mouth, and you knew he was gone, ruined by your words, ruined by Venom’s grip, ruined by how much he hated it and needed it all at once.

“Don’t look away, Eddie.” You dug your nails into his chest again. “You’re going to watch while Venom fucks me. Watch how good it feels when someone actually knows how to use what they’ve got.”

“Better than you ever could.” Venom’s voice vibrated through his body. He licked across your stomach with his wet, obscenely long tongue, leaving a trail that made you shiver. “You are small. Pathetic. And she screams for me. Not you.”

You were a doll in Venom’s grip. He pressed the first thick tendril between your folds, it felt cold and impossibly smooth. You gasped, clutching Eddie’s shoulders for balance as it spread you open, stretching you so suddenly you had to cry out. Eddie whimpered. God, he whimpered.

“Fuck—Venom—yes, like that.” You moaned.

“Greedy little thing. Taking me so easily. So much better than his pitiful cock.”

You moaned louder, rocking against the intrusion, chasing more before Venom even gave it. “God, Eddie, do you hear him? Do you hear how much better he is at ruining me than you could ever dream of being?”

Eddie jerked his hips helplessly against the air to try and soothe the ache of his painfully hard cock inside his jeans. “Stop—don’t—fuck—”

But Eddie didn’t want you to stop. You could see it. The red in his cheeks, the tremble in his thighs, the way he never moved his eyes from where Venom’s tendril was disappearing into you, glistening with your arousal every time it withdrew just to slam back in harder.

Venom growled, triumphant, as he shoved his appendage deeper into you. You screamed as it forced your cunt to open up wider, stretched until your legs shook. “He could never give you this. He would break first. Weak, fragile man.”

Eddie’s groans were raw, broken, halfway between anger and the kind of pleasure he didn’t want to admit.

You threw your head back, moaning shamelessly, grinding down against Venom’s thrusts. “Fuck—Eddie—you’d cum already if you tried to fuck me like this. You’d spill in your pants like the pathetic little boy you are.”

“Yes. Useless. She needs to be filled, stuffed until she cries. And you—” Venom hissed, slamming the tendril harder until your cries echoed in the room. “You can’t even keep her satisfied.”

You dragged your gaze back to Eddie, letting him watch the tears streaming down your cheeks from the overwhelming stretch, from how deep Venom was reaching. And still, you smiled at him. Cruel. “Look at me, baby. Look at how good he’s fucking me. Do you hear yourself begging without even realizing it? You’ll never ruin me like this.”

Venom’s grip around your waist lifted you from Eddie's lap, holding you suspended in the air while he fucked you mercilessly with his tendril. You were nothing but a toy in his hands, taken, used, filled.

Eddie moaned again, bucking his hips against nothing, his cock now leaking through the denim from how worked up he was. He locked his eyes on you, on how Venom had you in the air, stuffing your pussy full, hitting places Eddie never had been able to.

Venom laughed. “Pathetic. Hard and leaking just from watching me destroy her. You are nothing, Eddie. Nothing.”

And still, Eddie watched with awe as the symbiote that lived inside him (and the one that was possibly his best friend as well) took control and fucked his girlfriend right before his eyes. The tears were springing in his eyes. He wanted you. He wanted to be inside you. He wanted to be enough. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

“V—oh, V… I’m cumming… oh fuck, I’m cumming!” you screamed, locking your gaze on Eddie, letting him see every flicker of pleasure on your face as Venom drove you over the edge.

“Cum for me, pretty thing.” Venom roared, his inhuman strength allowing him to pound into your cunt with impossible speed. “Show him what he could never give you.”

You came hard, screaming Venom’s name, your body convulsing around the impossible stretch. Venom filled you deeper, holding you open until you were sobbing with pleasure.

“See, baby? That’s what it looks like when someone really fucks me. All you can do is watch.” You said to Eddie, who was watching you with a pained expression.

“I can!” Eddie blurted out, breathless and eager under the weight of desperation. “I can make you cum too. Baby, please—please let me. I’ll make you feel good, I swear.”

You and Venom both chuckled at the same time, the sound blending into a strange, harmonious echo. Eddie froze mid-breath, his cheeks flushing a deep red. For a moment, he looked torn between embarrassment and awe, watching the two of you share a private joke.

Venom licked you across your cheek, as if claiming you. “Don’t fool yourself, pal. She is mine. You are nothing.” But he didn’t slow down. He drove his thick tendril into you with a rhythm that bordered on inhuman, every thrust filling you deeper, harder, until your voice was raw from crying out. Your thighs quaked, and yet… You weren’t begging him to stop. You wanted more, and Venom knew it.

The coil of his tongue wound around your throat, squeezing gently, his voice vibrating through his tongue. “You can take more, can’t you? My perfect greedy girl. Tell me.”

You gasped, lolling your head back as more tears of pleasure spilled. “Yes—fuck—Venom, yes, I can take more, give me more—”

A ripple of approval coursed through him, expanding his tendril inside your pussy to reach your cervix, slamming it into you even harder. “Good. Good. I will ruin you until you can’t even remember his name.”

Beneath you, Eddie strained against the restraint of Venom’s tendrils on his wrists, his cock was so hard it must’ve hurt. His voice broke out hoarse. “Please—let me—fuck, let me touch her, please, I’ll do anything—”

You looked down at him, at the sweat shining on his flushed skin. Eddie Brock, wreck of a man, begging like a dog at your feet.

You tilted your head, smiling sharply. “Hear that, V? He wants to fuck me too. He’s begging for it.”

Venom laughed cruelly. “Pathetic. But amusing. Shall we let him? Let the weak little man have your other hole while I keep this one full.”

You clenched your cunt at the thought and nodded frantically, nearly sobbing. “Yes—yes, let him—please, I want both, I want to be filled everywhere—”

Eddie groaned like he’d cum from your words alone. Venom let go of his wrists, retrieving his tendrils. “Fine. You can fuck her ass, Eddie.”

You watched as Venom moved the appendages that were previously holding Eddie’s wrists, and he snaked them up around you with a firm grip, lifting and guiding your body until you were sprawled on your back across the couch. He helped you hoist your legs high, pressing your knees toward your chest, leaving both your holes completely exposed, holding you taut and helpless, every inch of you on display for Eddie, and for him to use you.

Eddie scrambled, rushing his hands to the zipper of his jeans, tugging them down with shaking urgency, guiding himself before Venom could change his mind. He moistened his cock with a spit, then wrapped his hand around it, stroking a few times until it was slick and ready to fuck your ass, which was already wet from all the slick coming out of your pussy, dripping down to your butthole when Venom fucked you before.

You felt him pressing his cock against your back entrance, how he nudged the blunt head and started pushing it in, making you hiss at the stretch, at the delicious burn of it. Even as you struggled to keep your legs up, Venom kept you wide open, never stopping his own tendril, never slowing it inside your soaked pussy.

“God—fuck—Eddie—yes, yes, fuck—”

Eddie moaned, burying himself into your tight hole slowly, inch by inch, until the sting gave way to fullness so overwhelming you thought you’d break in half. Now you were split open completely, Venom thrusting relentlessly into your dripping pussy, Eddie fucking your ass in messy, desperate strokes.

“F–fuck—shit baby, you feel so damn good,” Eddie moaned the moment he pushed into you. “So tight… holy—” The rest dissolved into a low, guttural sound as his breath hitched.

Venom growled. “Listen to her. Hear how wet she is for me. You could never make her gush like this. You are lucky I let you in at all.”

Eddie pressed his forehead to your shoulder, snapping his hips faster. “I don’t care—fuck, I don’t care—just want her—she feels so fucking good—”

You screamed, caught between them. “Yes—fuck me, both of you—God, Eddie, you’re nothing compared to him but you feel so good filling my ass—Venom, don’t stop, please don’t ever stop—”

The symbiote gripped your waist like a vice, forcing you down onto both of them, impaling you on the tendril and the cock until it blurred your vision. “She’s mine. Mine to split open, mine to fill, mine to make cum until she breaks. You are just the hole-warmer.”

Eddie felt how impossibly tight your ass was, how every inch of his cock was getting squeezed to the point of pain, yes, but it felt exquisitely good anyway. He glued his eyes to the sight of your two stretched holes: one was snugly gripping a slick, black tendril, the other molding perfectly around his cock. He watched them move together, sliding in and out of you in perfect rhythm, pushing deep until every inch of you was filled, until there wasn’t a single spot inside you untouched.

Eddie rutted into you faster. He was trembling, overwhelmed. And in contrast, Venom was fresh as a daisy, and he didn’t let up. “Cum for me, sweet girl. Cum while you are stuffed full of me and the weak man. Show him what real pleasure looks like.”

“V! Eddie!” you gasped, looking between them, Eddie’s face twisted in pleasure as he fucked your ass, and Venom’s floating head hovering beside him, grinning with amusement. “I’m gonna cum… fuck… you two are making me cum!”

Your body convulsed before your mind could catch up. You shattered, screaming so hard your throat went raw, clamping down around Venom’s tendril and Eddie’s cock.

“B–baby—baby, I’m gonna—oh, f–fuck—” Eddie cried out, tensing hard as the first thick spurts of cum shot out of him.

Eddie groaned and spilled inside your ass, broken by the sight and the sound of you losing yourself. He filled your tight little hole with his warm seed until it was full, leaking creamy white around his cock.

Venom roared, slamming one final time, stretching you to the brink, your orgasm milking him even though he had nothing to give you.

You’d cum twice tonight, but it didn’t matter, because Venom was inside you, and Venom didn’t get tired.

“Pathetic little man,” the symbiote snarled, locking his tendrils around your thighs, forcing you wide open as he speared into your pussy with renewed brutality. His cocklike appendage had grown even longer, thicker, stretching you to the point of breaking. Every thrust made you choke on a scream. “Spilling already? Trying so hard. But you will never measure up. Never.”

Eddie whined, actually whined, like a wounded animal. Shame burned through him, he couldn’t believe how fast he’d cum. It was always so fucking fast when it came to you. Sure, he’d managed to make you cum already, and that should’ve been enough… would’ve been, if he were up against any other man. But his competition was the alien inside him, the one that could make you cum again and again without ever getting tired.

So he clenched his jaw, and pushed himself to keep going, refusing to give in to the humiliation curling in his gut.

Venom grew his tendril longer as it slithered deeper inside your pussy, exploring every contour of your walls with deliberate precision. It wound itself carefully, curling around your uterus, pressing and massaging with an almost tender insistence that made your hips buck involuntarily.

You’d never felt anything so deep, so impossibly consuming. Nothing could compare to the way Venom moved inside you, nothing could mimic the sensation of him literally playing with your insides, curling and kneading in ways that sent shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

Eddie groaned against you, sweat dripping onto your skin, snapping his hips almost frantically, his cock was still rock hard even though he’d just cum, as if he had something to prove. “I—I can make her feel good, fuck, I can keep going—I’ll keep going.”

Eddie tried to sound convincing, tried to sound like a big boy, like the man in charge. But the sounds coming out of him betrayed everything he was trying to be… the broken swears, the desperate little whines, the breathless cries that tore from his throat each time you clenched around him. He sounded ruined, undone, like every ounce of composure had been fucked out of him.

You laughed, pressing your cheek to the couch cushion as Venom slammed you down harder onto his tendril. “Oh, baby, listen to yourself. You sound so pathetic, like a little boy trying to act like a man. You can barely keep going, don’t fool yourself.”

Venom lashed his tongue across your face. “She knows. I am inside her deeper than you ever could be. I will split her apart.”

“I can! I can! I’ll fuck you good! Just let me—fuuuuck—” Eddie stumbled over his own words as he thrusted forward, jerking his hips helplessly.

Venom snaked a new tendril up your body, wrapping it tight around your throat. It constricted, stealing your air in perfect rhythm with every brutal thrust into your cunt. You rolled your eyes back, pleasure and panic blurring into white heat as you clawed at Eddie’s arms.

“Fuck—Venom… choke me harder!” You rasped under the crushing grip.

“Greedy little thing. Begging for more even when you are already full.” He tightened the tendril, and your vision swam.

Eddie growled, pounding into your ass with reckless violence, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as if he could brand you, claim you. His thrusts were brutal, but sloppy. Venom’s were endless, devastating.

You gasped around the choking tendril. “You feel that, Eddie? You’re fucking me like you’re trying to prove something, but you still can’t keep up. Venom doesn’t even sweat.”

Eddie groaned and then whined like a hurt little puppy, making you laugh raggedly through the chokehold. “God—you’re gonna cum again already, aren’t you? You always do. Pathetic. Leaking in my ass while Venom is still destroying my pussy.”

“Not yet!—not… yet!—I can keep going!” Eddie gritted out between clenched teeth.

Venom roared with approval, thrusting harder, filling you so deep you felt split open and ruined. “Yes. Cum quickly, Eddie. Cum like the weak, desperate little man you are, while I keep her screaming.”

You convulsed, sobbing, drooling around the tendril at your throat. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t be anything but theirs. Eddie lost it, rutting violently until he spilled inside you again, giving you more of his milky and sticky release, groaning brokenly against your neck, his cock twitching weakly as Venom kept going, unstoppable. You shivered, a soft moan escaping your lips. You loved feeling Eddie’s hot cum filling you, coating your walls, and leaving a mark deep inside you. Eddie always gave you the fattest loads, leaving you dripping for hours.

“See?” Venom hissed, every thrust making your vision spark white. “He is all done already. Weak. And I am still here. Still filling you. Still ruining you. He will never be enough.”

You screamed his name, feeling the way he crushed your throat in his grip; he was wrecking your body beyond recognition, while Eddie clung to you, undone, humiliated, and still hopelessly turned on because of the way you mocked him. He was a trembling mess, holding you by your waist. He was already finished, spent, and ruined as he collapsed into the cushions. Venom, though? Venom was tireless.

“Pathetic. Weak. Already empty, Eddie, while I am only beginning.” The words vibrated through the coiled tendril around your throat. It tightened suddenly, cutting your breath off in a rush, forcing a choked moan from your lips. He still plunged his other appendage deep into your pussy, impossibly thick, impossibly long, dragging against every clenching nerve inside you. And then, a third one.

He pressed the hot, slick tip of it against your ass, against that tight little hole that was dripping with Eddie’s cum.

You snapped your eyes wide, digging your fingers into the cushions. “Venom—wait—”

“You can take more, sweet girl. Prove it.” The pressure grew, unbearable, stretching you wider, deeper, until the tendril forced its way in, filling you to the brim. It made you convulse, pricking tears in your eyes. Venom was fucking Eddie’s release deeper inside your ass.

“Yes. Take me everywhere. I will fill you until you break.”

Pinned under him, stretched in both holes, you were nothing but a toy for him to use. Your pussy clamped down around one tendril while he split your ass mercilessly with the other. He was thrusting the two appendages in a superhuman rhythm that left you sobbing. Every slam forced your body forward, only to be yanked back by the other tendril around your neck, choking you into submission.

Eddie lifted his head weakly, you saw how glassy his eyes were with shame and arousal. He croaked your name, reaching for you like he could help, like he could do anything.

Venom barked a laugh. “Look at him. Weak. Finished. All he can do is watch while I destroy you. She doesn’t need you, Eddie. She is mine.”

You choked out a gasp, clawing into the cushions. “F-fuck, Venom—I can’t—too much—”

He squeezed the tendril at your throat harder, cutting off the rest of your cry. “Yes. Too much. Exactly what you beg for. Greedy little thing, always asking for more. Now you will take all of me. Pussy, ass, throat… mine.”

Every time Venom slid out of your pussy, you caught sight of the creamy rings of your arousal smeared along his glossy black surface. And each time he withdrew the other tendril from your ass, it glistened with Eddie’s thick white seed, leaving a stark, messy contrast against the black of the symbiote.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. You were shaking with every brutal slam of his tendrils, stretching and ruining your walls, filling your ass so deep you thought you’d split apart. Your vision swam black at the edges as the chokehold tightened, your mouth gaping silently around a cry you couldn’t make.

And then… release washed over you. Another orgasm tore through you endlessly, ripping a scream out of your strangled throat. You gushed around Venom’s tendril, your ass clamping tight around the second.

Venom roared, feeling proud of himself. “Yes. Cum for me. Cum on me. You are mine. Only mine. Not Eddie’s.”

You felt your body going limp, trembling, drool running down your chin as he finally loosened the tendril around your throat at last, letting you collapse into Eddie’s shaking arms. Eddie held you close, whispering broken, useless comforts, but his cock was twitching again just from watching you be destroyed.

Venom purred low in his ear. “See, Eddie? This is how she cums. Ruined. Destroyed. You could never give her this. You will never be enough.”

And the worst part? Eddie didn’t argue. He just held you tighter, trembling, and nodded. Your body ached everywhere, your skin marked with bruises and slick with sweat, every muscle trembling from being stretched and wrecked until you couldn’t even hold yourself up.

But the only thing you thought about was Eddie. And how much you loved him. He was looking at you with wide and glassy eyes, not angry, not jealous, not even ashamed anymore. Just… overwhelmed. Small in a way that broke your heart even after everything you’d just done together.

You pressed your body harder against his. Eddie startled like he didn’t believe you wanted to touch him, and then melted when you wrapped your arms around him. You hugged him tight, curling against his chest.

“Eddie,” you whispered softly. You tilted your head up, catching his eyes even when he tried to look away. “Hey. Look at me.”

It took him a moment, but he did. God, he looked wrecked, flushed, his lips were bitten raw, his pupils blown wide. And behind all of it, the raw vulnerability of a man who never believed he was enough.

You cupped his jaw, brushing your thumb over the stubble there, and leaned up to kiss him gently, the opposite of what Venom had just done. He shuddered, clutching you like you’d disappear if he let go.

When you broke away, you rested your forehead on his. “I love you.”

He blinked. “…Even after…”

“Especially after,” you cut in with certainty. “Eddie, you did really good. You took care of me. You gave me what I needed. And I’m proud of you.”

He worked his throat around words he couldn’t seem to find, cradling your waist with his still shaking hands, then he moved them to your back, as if he had to map out every inch of you to reassure himself you were still his.

Venom purred low. “She lies to make you feel better. You were weak.”

You glared instinctively toward him. “No, V. I’m not lying. He was good. He was so good. You are amazing, Eddie.”

Eddie twitched his mouth instinctively, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or break down. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling desperately, holding you as tight as he could.

“You’re mine, right?” His voice cracked against your skin. “You still want me?”

You hugged him tighter, curling around him like you could shield him from everything. “Always. You’re mine, Eddie. And I’m yours. You’re the one I love. No one changes that.”

He let out a shaky laugh, almost a sob, and you kissed him again, kissing away the doubt, the humiliation, the ache in his chest. You stayed pressed together like that for a long time, just breathing, just holding, letting the storm calm around you.

“I could have sex with you, and only you, for the rest of my life and never need anything else, Eddie,” you whispered, trembling with honesty. “You make me feel so good.”

And even when Venom growled in the back of Eddie’s mind, Eddie finally ignored him, because he had you in his arms, and that was enough.

Updates account Check my Masterlist

A/N: First of all, happy Halloween👻🎃

AHHH poor Eddie, I felt so bad writing this (but also… it was so hot and fun🫦). I just want to give him a little kiss on the nose and tell him he’s enough🥺

I hope you enjoyed this one! I can’t believe Kinktober is over. Thank you so much for being by my metaphorical side throughout the month, I had so much fun writing all these fics. I hope you enjoyed them as much as I enjoyed creating them. Now, I don’t want to sound pitiful, because nobody forced me to do this, I did it because I wanted to. I love writing, and I love knowing that maybe something I post can make someone’s day a little better. But you have no idea how hard this was and how much time I poured into it😭. Not just hours and hours of writing, editing, and proofreading, but more hours on Pinterest looking for pictures, editing them, endlessly scrolling for matching dividers. My sleeping schedule got completely fucked up, so I really hope it was worth it.

I’d love to hear which fics were your favorites, and which ones you might like to see a second part of in the future. Thanks again for your constant support, it means the world to me!!🩷

dividers by: @/dollywons

[chelsreadsfics]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Some can't stand homophobia.

Some can't stand the Voyageurs.

And some can't stand the dynasty that the Voyageurs inadvertently created when they ran Shane Hollander out of town for being gay.

So when news of why Shane Hollander signed in Ottawa alongside his husband comes out, 31 teams take it upon themselves to get back at the Voyageurs for all that they’ve done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ilya putting a bounty on the metros is very pleasing to me

[chelsreadsfics]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[Text] LaPointe: You two can vote too I guess: which of you is the mom and which is the dad?

[Text] Ilya: I am papa clearly

[Text] Shane: We're neither. Because we're not your parents...

[Text] Luca: That feels like something only a dad would say

[Text: LaPointe: And not a very good dad 😔

----

or, a month of texts between Ilya, Shane, and their rookies

[chelsreadsfics]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

lily @shanehollanderstop

i’ll say it because i am not afraid of losing my job: roger crowell is a piece of shit and should never know peace in his life ever again. my name is hayden pike and i play for the montreal voyageurs. 💬 29.5K  🔄 113.1K ❤️ 513.4K

or

Ilya joins stan twitter

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this whole series had me genuinely laughing out loud. HR fans are eating these smaus 

[chelsreadsfics]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78894996

full version of my last rec

[chelsreadsfics]

i keep coming back to this

[brunchable]

𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘗𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘜𝘱 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴

 ݈݇— pairings: Ex-BF!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader  ݈݇— themes: Porn with plot and feelings, Exes-to-Lovers, mild angst with happy ending. no use of y/n. soft!dom, pet names: baby, dirty girl. couch sex, make-up sex, emotional sex, gentle to rough, foreplay, dry humping, nipple play, oral (m receiving), ball play, swallowing, bodyworship, dick slaps, multiple orgasms, breeding talks, unprotected p i v, mating press, creampie, dirty talk, size difference, aftercare, accidental exhibitionsism.  ݈݇— summary: Bucky texted you and he needs you to come pick up your clothes from his house. You haven't seen or talked to him in a month, so why are you nervous? A/N: Based on the song, Folded By Kehlani. Listen to it on repeat while reading, up to you. BUT GOD I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS SONG. DO NOT READ IF YOU"RE UNDER 18.

Your knock sounded sharp, insistent, echoing in the quiet Brooklyn brownstone on this frigid New Year’s morning. Exactly one month since you walked out of this very door, telling yourself it was for good.

There’s a pause. Footsteps. The soft thud of movement inside. And then—his voice, muffled through the door.

“Yeah—hang on.”

Your stomach flips. Stupid. It’s been a month. You should be over this.

The door swings open, and there he is.

He looks… different. The scruff along his jaw is trimmed now, like he finally bothered to care for it. His hair’s a little longer, tucked behind his ears, a few strands escaping around his face. 

The black compression shirt he’s wearing stretches tight across his chest and shoulders, the kind of bulk that says he’s spent the last thirty days punishing himself in the gym instead of texting you. 

You hate how your brain immediately supplies: He’s been working out to forget me. Or getting ready for someone else. The thought stings more than the January air.

And now you have to force your eyes back to his face while his blue eyes flick over you once, quick, then linger.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than you remember.

“Hey.” You manage a smile that feels brittle. “Happy New Year.”

“Yeah. You too.” He steps back, holding the door wider. “Come in. It’s freezing out there.”

You stay planted on the threshold.

“It’s fine,” you say with your best casual voice. “I’ll wait here.”

Bucky’s brows pull together for half a second. He wets his lips and tilts his head—and lets out a quiet, almost sheepish breath.

“Oh. Uh…” He glances over his shoulder at the box, then back at you. “I was thinking… maybe you’d wanna come in and look around? Just in case I missed something.”

His tone is careful, like he’s testing thin ice.

“Sure, whatever. I can do that.” 

You take off your scarf, and hang it on the coathanger as he closes the door behind you with a quiet click.

He clears his throat, hands shoving into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I, uh… got everything together. Put it in a box. Figured that’d be easier.”

You stand there in the living room, the familiar scent of his cologne in the air. Your fingers linger on the edge of the box as you peer inside—everything folded with that precise, military neatness he always had. Your favorite mug is wrapped carefully in newspaper. Your toothbrush in its little travel case. The books you’d left on the nightstand, spines aligned perfectly.

Behind you, his voice is low, careful. “I put the stuff I bought for you in there too. Intimates, jewelry—all of it. It’s yours. Do whatever you want with it… throw it out, sell it, burn it, your choice.”

The words hit like a slap you didn’t see coming. You swallow hard, throat raw. “I thought you already did.”

A long, heavy silence. Then the scrape of his hand over his face, a sound so tired it makes your chest ache.

“You know I didn’t mean that,” he says, voice cracking on the last word.

You shrug, gripping the box flap until the cardboard bites into your fingers. “Didn’t sound like it at the time.”

Another beat of silence—thick, suffocating.

“You said you were leaving,” he says, quieter now, closer. “You said you were done with me. And then you were gone. I sat in this apartment for weeks staring at your side of the bed like a fucking idiot, waiting for a text that never came. I was angry. I was hurt. So yeah—I said shit to hurt you back. And I’ve hated myself for it every single day since.”

Your eyes burn. You’ve pictured him moving on a thousand times—new girl, new life, your stuff in the trash without a second thought. Hearing he didn’t… hearing he’s been suffering too… it doesn’t fix anything. It just makes the ache sharper.

He keeps going, voice barely above a whisper. “I saw your posts. You looked… happy. Smiling in every photo. And I kept thinking—good. Good, she’s better off. She’s free of me. Because I know what I am. I know I’m difficult. I know I shut down when the work gets bad. I know I’m not easy to love.” A ragged breath. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to walk on eggshells. I’m sorry I ever made you feel small. I just… I miss you so much it’s hard to breathe sometimes. And it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Your vision blurs. You turn to face him slowly.

He’s standing a few feet away, shoulders curled inward like he’s bracing for a blow, eyes red-rimmed, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle jumping. His hand is still half-raised from scrubbing over his face, like he forgot what to do with it.

The words hang between you, ugly and honest. You want to scream at him. You want to hit him. You want to disappear.

Instead you whisper, “It doesn’t matter now.”

You bend, haul the box up—heavier than your heart—and head for the door.

“Oh come on.” His voice cracks fully this time. Footsteps quick and panicked. “I’m trying here. I’m sorry. I mean it.”

Heavy footsteps follow you to the door.

“I didn’t ask you to come get your clothes today because I wanted you gone,” he says, raw. “I asked because it was an excuse to see you again. One more time. Even if it hurt.”

You’re almost at the entryway when he steps in front of you, blocking the narrow hall. 

Gently, firmly, he lifts the box from your arms and sets it down.

His hands settle on your shoulders, trembling.

His eyes are glassy and pleading. “If you’re really done… if you don’t love me anymore… say it. Say it to my face, and I’ll let you walk out that door and I’ll never bother you again. I swear.”

You stare up at him. Those blue eyes—stormy, wrecked, more open than you’ve ever seen them. A month of distance collapses into this single moment, and it hurts so much you can barely breathe.

A broken laugh escapes you. “You’re cruel,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You know I can’t.”

Tears spill hot down your cheeks. You try to turn away, but his hand cups your face, thumb brushing the tears like he’s afraid you’ll shatter.

“Look at me,” he whispers again, closer now, forehead almost touching yours. “Tell me you’re done. Tell me you don’t love me. And I’ll let you go. Even if it fucking kills me.”

You crumble.

“How can I—” The words rip out of you, raw and ragged. “I love you. God, Bucky, I love you, you’re so—”

His lips crash onto yours like he’s been starving for this—for you—in the last thirty days. His tongue sliding against yours, claiming every inch of your mouth like he’s trying to erase the distance, the fight, the silence. 

His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears tracking down your cheeks, but he doesn’t gentle the kiss—if anything, he deepens it, stealing the air from your lungs until your head spins harder and black spots dance at the edges of your vision.

You melt into him, helpless. Your hands fist in the front of his compression shirt, pulling him closer even as your knees threaten to buckle. 

A soft, desperate sound escapes your throat and he swallows it, pressing you back until your shoulders meet the nearby wall.

A low sound rumbles in his throat as the contact ignites—chest to chest, hips to hips—and you feel the shudder that rolls through him.

One of his thighs slides between yours, pinning you there, and the solid weight of him is overwhelming—broad chest, corded arms, the new muscle he’s built like armor against the world without you. 

His hands leave your face, skating down your neck, over your coat, until he’s gripping your waist and lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrap around his hips on instinct, the box forgotten on the floor.

He murmurs something wordless against your lips before he nips gently at your bottom one, teasing, testing. The bite is soft, then sharper, a sweet sting that he immediately soothes with a slow, languid kiss. Again and again—bite, kiss, savor—until your lips are swollen and tingling and you’re arching into him without meaning to.

You open for him without hesitation, and his tongue slips inside again, tangling with yours in a slow, sensual dance until you’re breathless.

It emboldens him; you feel it in the way his grip tightens.

He tenses, every muscle coiling as he presses forward, the kiss turning firmer, more insistent. His mouth moves over yours—angling, retreating, claiming, wringing pleasure from you in gasps you can’t hold back.

His body hardens against yours, arousal throbbing hot and demanding between your legs. Another low moan escapes him as he rocks subtly into you, the friction sending white-hot sparks racing up your spine.

The need builds too fast, too fierce, until you both rip apart at the same moment—lips parting with a suction that echoes in the charged silence. You're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked in a haze of raw want.

"Can we..." you gasp, voice husky, barely recognizable, "do this somewhere more comfortable?"

A rough chuckle rumbles from his chest, vibrating against you. "God, yes."

He doesn't let go. His mouth crashes back to yours in a searing kiss, hungry and laughing all at once, as his hands start working. 

Fingers tug at your coat, shoving it off your shoulders; it hits the floor with a soft thud. You stumble backward together, lips barely separating, toward the couch, his hands peeling away layers like he's unwrapping a late christmas present. Your jeans go next—his vibranium fingers cool and precise on the button, flesh hand dragging the denim down your thighs until you kick them free.

By the time you tumble onto the couch, you're straddling him, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. Your shirt clings to you, the only barrier left, and his sweatpants do nothing to hide the thick, rigid length of him pressing up against your core.

His tongue tangles with yours again, deep and possessive, as the fingers of his right hand trail up the side of your body—mapping every curve. He stops at the swell of your breast, palm cupping it gently, feeling the weight in his hand. A low, guttural groan vibrates against your mouth, and you feel him swell even harder beneath you, his cock straining against the fabric separating you.

“Jesus,” he mutters, voice wrecked, before slipping his hand under your shirt and bra. 

Warm flesh meets bare skin as he cups you fully, squeezing with just the right pressure—caressing, kneading—until another groan tears from him, deeper this time, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

His thumb circles your nipple, slow and teasing, and the spark of pleasure shoots straight through you. You gasp into his mouth, arching hard against him, the sudden sting of it making your thighs clench around his.

With a rough tug, he pushes your shirt and bra up, exposing your breast to the cool air—your nipple tight and aching, begging. His eyes darken, devouring the sight.

“Fuck. You are so beautiful—you missed me didn’t you?” he whispers, before lowering his head. His lips brush the sensitive peak in a soft kiss, tongue flicking out to taste you, savoring like you're the sweetest thing he's ever had.

The wet heat of his mouth closes over you fully then—tongue swirling languidly around your nipple, sucking softly, teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out. Pleasure floods you in waves, intense and overwhelming, pooling hot and liquid between your legs. 

Every brush of his lips, every pull of his mouth, every gentle scrape of teeth—it's torture, exquisite and unrelenting, building that tight coil inside you until you're trembling, on the edge already from this alone.

His free hand—the vibranium one—slides to your ass, gripping firmly, urging you to move. You grind down on him instinctively, rolling your hips against the hard ridge of his trapped cock. The friction is maddening, and his fingers slip lower behind, stroking you through the thin, soaked fabric of your underwear—teasing your clit in firm circles that match the rhythm of his mouth on your breast.

You moan louder, head falling on the crook of his neck, as he tilts his head to take you deeper—sucking harder, tongue lashing your nipple until it's swollen and throbbing. The dual assault—his mouth devouring your breast, his fingers working you relentlessly while you grind on his thick length—has you shattering toward release, every nerve alight, body slick and desperate for more of him.

Your hips buck harder, desperate and shameless, chasing the pressure of his thigh and of his cock straining against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Every roll drags the seam over your aching clit, amplified by the circles of his vibranium fingers—cool metal warmed by your heat, slick with how drenched you are.

Bucky pulls off your breast with a wet pop, lips shiny, eyes dark and feral as he watches you unravel. His breath fans hot over the sensitive, swollen peak he just abandoned.

“You gonna come?” he rasps, voice low and wrecked, thumb pressing firmer against your clit in a ruthless rhythm that matches the grind of your hips. “Come on me, baby. Let me feel you soak through everything. I want it fucking dripping down my thigh.”

The words hit like a spark to gasoline. Your body locks up—back arching, nails digging into his shoulders—as the orgasm slams into you, sharp and blinding. A broken cry tears from your throat, hips jerking helplessly against him while you pulse and clench around nothing. 

He doesn’t let up, fingers working you through it, drawing it out until you’re trembling, oversensitive, gasping his name.

“Yeah, baby—say my name just like that,” Bucky groans, voice thick and ragged as your cries echo his name again and again through the aftershocks. His vibranium hand slides up your thigh, fingers tracing the slick mess you’ve made. He glances down, eyes darkening at the dark wet patch spreading across his gray sweatpants. “Fuck, look at my pants. Jesus Christ, you soaked right through ‘em.”

He lets out a low, wrecked laugh, forehead pressed to yours for a beat before he pulls back just enough to growl, “Let me just—”

He reaches behind his head and yanks the compression shirt off, tossing it aimlessly. His hair falls messier across his forehead, chest rising and falling hard, every new ridge of muscle on display from the last month of brutal workouts. You’re already helping him, hands greedy at the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving them down caught in the frenzy until they pool at his ankles. He steps out of them, kicking them aside.

You drop lower, mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, across the broad plane of his chest, tongue flicking over a nipple just to hear him hiss. Then lower, over the cut lines of his abs, tasting salt and warm skin. Your tongue darts out again, tracing the between the V that disappears below, and he drags a hand over his face with a muffled, “God, you’re so fucking sexy doing it like that.”

He looks back down, blue eyes blown wide and hungry.

You chuckle low, the sound vibrating against his skin as your hand slips under the last scrap of fabric—his boxers—palming the heavy length of him. He tenses, abs flexing under your lips, a sharp inhale whistling through his teeth. You tug the waistband down slow enough to tease, and his cock springs free—thick, flushed, curving up toward his stomach with a bead of precum already glistening at the tip.

You lean in, lips parting, and take just the head into your mouth—slow, luxuriant, tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge. 

He twitches hard against your tongue, a guttural “Ohh baby—” ripping out of him as his hips jerk forward involuntarily. You feel him swell even fuller in the wet heat of your mouth, hardening impossibly in seconds like his body’s been waiting a month for this exact moment.

You work lower, taking more of his shaft inch by inch until your lips meet your fingers wrapped around the base, then slide back up, hollowing your cheeks, tongue lavishing the head again with greedy circles. You pull off just long enough to look up at him through your lashes, lips shiny and swollen, a wicked little smile curving your mouth.

The look on his face—brows pinched tight, jaw clenched like he’s in pain, eyes dark and desperate—tells you everything. It’s definitely been a while.

Your free hand cups his balls, heavy and drawn up tight, rolling them gently, tugging just enough to make him throw his head back with a broken curse, vibranium fingers tangling in your hair.

“Shit—I’m so sensitive,” he rasps, voice cracking, looking down again with that wild, pleading edge. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You pull off him with a lewd, wet pop. His cock—glistening thick and slick from your mouth—bobs heavily in front of your face, flushed dark and veined, a string of saliva still connecting your bottom lip to the swollen tip.

You let out a low, throaty giggle, eyes locked on his as you tilt your head and stick your tongue out flat. Then you guide his length with your hand, slapping the heavy weight of it against your tongue once, twice, three times—hard enough to make wet, filthy smacks, precum and spit smearing across your taste buds and chin in shiny streaks.

Bucky’s breath punches out of him in a shocked laugh as he stares down at the sight, vibranium fingers tightening in your hair.

“Holy shit,” he rasps, voice wrecked and incredulous, a dazed grin pulling at his mouth. “You dirty fucking girl.”

You hum, pleased and wicked, letting the head rest heavy on your outstretched tongue again, giving it a slow, lick from base to tip while you look up at him through wet lashes.

His thighs flex hard, abs clenching, and a low, desperate groan rumbles out of his chest.

“Baby,” he warns, hips shifting forward just an inch—like he’s already fighting not to thrust. “You keep playing like that and I’m not gonna last.”

You pull back just enough, lips brushing the sensitive underside as you murmur, voice husky and teasing, “Good. You can come in my mouth.”

The words hit him like a punch—his eyes flare wide, dark blue gone almost black, a ragged “Fuck—” punching out of him as his cock jerks hard against your lips. You don’t wait for more; you sink down again, taking him deep in one smooth glide until he hits the back of your throat. Your hand works the base in tight, twisting strokes while the other keeps teasing his balls, rolling them gently, feeling how tight and full they are.

He’s unraveling fast—head falling back, throat working on a swallow, a string of broken curses spilling out as his hips start to rock in shallow thrusts he can’t quite control.

“God, your mouth—feels so fucking good,” he pants, looking down again with that pinched, wrecked expression, like pleasure’s bordering on pain. “Not gonna… fuck, baby, I’m close—”

You hear the warning in his voice, feel it in the way his cock throbs heavier against your tongue, but it only spurs you on. 

You double down—suction tightening, cheeks hollowing as you bob faster, hand twisting in that perfect corkscrew motion guys swear by, the one that strokes him root to tip in sync with your mouth. Your tongue presses flat against the sensitive frenulum on every upstroke, flicking quick, while your other hand never stops its worship of his balls—rolling them gently, then tugging downward just enough to heighten the pull.

You pull off for a breath, dropping lower to take one ball into your mouth, sucking soft but firm, tongue swirling as your fist pumps his slick shaft in twisting pulls. 

His thighs quake harder, a strangled “Fuck—yes—” ripping out as you switch back to his cock, taking him deep again, throat relaxing to swallow around the head while your fingers keep that gentle downward tension on his balls.

His hips stutter, vibranium hand leaving your hair to grip the edge of the couch—his whole body goes rigid, abs clenching visibly as the orgasm barrels through him.

“Shit, I’m gonna come—I’m coming, I’m coming—” he chokes out, and then he’s pulsing hard against your tongue, thick ropes of cum flooding your mouth in hot, heavy spurts. You swallow greedily, milking him with your lips and hand, drawing it out until he’s shuddering violently, a low, broken groan dragging from his chest.

When it finally ebbs, he slumps against the couch, chest heaving, cock slipping from your lips with a wet sound. You sit back on your heels, licking the corner of your mouth, watching him come down with a satisfied little smile.

Bucky drags a shaky hand through his messy hair, letting out a breathless, incredulous laugh—the classic post-nut clarity hitting hard, loose and dazed.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he pants, voice hoarse, blue eyes wide and still a little glazed as he stares down at you. Another huff of laughter escapes him, fond and wrecked. “Jesus, baby. You trying to ruin me for good?”

He reaches down, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip, smearing the gloss there like he can’t help himself.

You lick your lips slowly, tasting him still, and meet his glazed eyes with a soft, teasing smile.

“Just my way of saying sorry to you. . .” you murmur, voice husky from everything you just did to him.

Bucky’s breathless laugh turns darker and hungrier. He sinks fully onto the couch now, legs spread, chest still heaving as he reaches for you with both hands, pulling you up from your knees.

“Come here,” he says, low and rough, patting his thigh. “Sit on me. I’m not done with you yet.”

His cock rests heavy against his stomach, semi-soft and glistening from your mouth, twitching faintly like it’s already eager for round two. You don’t hesitate—clothes half-shed, you strip off what’s left.

You know exactly what he loves, what gets him hard again. 

Lowering yourself slowly, you drag your bare, soaked pussy along his length—just slick skin on skin. The head of his cock nudges your clit on the first pass, and you both groan at the contact. You rock forward again, grinding slow and languid, coating him in your wetness, feeling him thicken and harden beneath you with every slide.

Bucky’s head falls back against the couch for a second, eyes hooded, before he snaps his gaze down to watch—transfixed by the sight of your folds parting around his shaft, gliding up and down, your arousal making everything shiny and messy.

“Oh my God,” he hisses through clenched teeth, hips lifting just slightly to chase the friction. “That’s it… just like that.”

You guide his hands up to your breasts, pressing them into his palms, and he doesn’t need more invitation. His flesh hand cups one, thumb circling the nipple before pinching while the vibranium one mirrors the motion on the other, cool metal warming fast against your skin. He tugs and rolls your nipples between his fingers, twisting just hard enough to make you gasp and grind down firmer, your clit dragging along his now fully hard length.

Every rock of your hips pulls a low rumble from his chest, his cock throbbing hot and rigid between your folds, precum mixing with your slickness until you’re both dripping.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, voice gravel-rough, eyes dark as he watches himself disappear and reappear between your lips with every roll. “Using that pretty pussy to get me hard again…”

You nod slowly, breath hitching as you grind down one last time, feeling him throb fully hard and ready between your slick folds.

“How do you want me?” you ask, voice soft and needy, eyes locked on his.

Bucky’s lips curve into a wolfish smile.

“How do I want you?” he echoes, voice low and rough, vibranium hand sliding down to grip your hip possessively. “I want you under me, baby. Ankles right beside your ears.” His eyes darken further, thumb stroking your skin. “How do you want to take it? Rough? Slow?”

You lean in, pecking his lips quick and teasing, a breathless laugh escaping you. “That’s up to you.”

His brows lift, surprise flickering before that hungry edge sharpens again. “You really trusting me to leave it up to me?” He swallows hard, throat working, gaze searching yours for a beat—like he’s making sure. Then he exhales, soft and resolute. “Alright. We can take it slow.”

He shifts, strong arms lifting you effortlessly as he moves you both to the chaise end of the sectional, laying you back against the soft leather. The cool surface contrasts with the heat of your skin, and he settles between your thighs, nudging them wider with his knees.

“Get in position for me,” he murmurs, voice deep and commanding, sending a shiver straight through you. “Ankles up by your ears. And spread that pretty pussy—use your fingers on both sides of your lips. Show it to me.”

You obey without hesitation, legs folding back until your ankles frame your face, knees splayed wide. Your hands slide down, fingers parting your slick, swollen folds, baring yourself completely—glistening, aching, dripping for him.

Bucky groans low and guttural, eyes locked on you like he’s starving. “Fuck, look at that… I just wanna eat that pussy, but next time—right now, I need to fuck you.”

He leans over you, one hand bracing beside your head, the other guiding his thick cock. He slaps it against you once, twice—wet, heavy thuds that make you gasp and clench around nothing. Then the broad head teases you—rubbing slow circles over your clit, then dragging down to nudge your entrance. 

He presses in just barely, stretching you open an inch before pulling back. Again—deeper, teasing—until he surges forward in one controlled thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

The stretch is overwhelming, his thick length splitting you wide as your walls flutter and grip him. A muffled moan tears from your throat; his rumbles deep in his chest, ragged and desperate.

“Oh fuck—” he murmurs, forehead dropping to yours. 

He stills, hips flush, letting you feel every pulsing inch—impossibly deep in this folded position, the head kissing your cervix until your toes curl beside your ears.

Then he pulls back slow, dragging every ridge along your walls, before slamming home again. Each thrust jolts through you, wet slaps echoing, your slick coating him, dripping where you’re joined. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you pinned open, helpless to his rhythm.

“Look at you,” he rasps between thrusts, voice wrecked, eyes flicking from your face to where he disappears into you. “Taking me so deep… feel how full you are, baby?”

His control frays—breaths rougher, hips snapping harder as you gasp, “Fuck me like that.” Sweat beads on his skin, vibranium hand tightening on your thigh.

He locks eyes with you. “Look down,” he orders, gravel-rough. “Watch me fuck this pretty pussy. Watch how you take every inch.”

You obey, gaze dropping to where your folds stretch tight around his glistening shaft, swallowing him whole on every sink.

“That’s it,” he growls, pace turning heavier, more possessive. He slams deep, grinds slow circles against that spot that sparks stars behind your eyes. “You feel me? Feel how deep I am? I’m not letting you go this time—never again.”

He rasps against your ear, thrusting faster—balls-deep slams marking you inside out. “Gonna fuck a hole inside you only I can fill.”

“Oh God—yes,” you choke out, voice breaking on every word as tears prick your eyes from the intensity.

“Yeah?” His eyes lock on yours, wild and undone, but soft at the edges with everything he hasn’t said in a month. “You want me to give you everything? Want me to knock you up so you never forget who you belong to—who you love?”

You nod frantically, nails raking down his back. “Yes—God, yes—don’t stop—”

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, vibranium hand sliding to your lower belly, pressing just enough for you to feel him moving inside you. “Gonna give you all of me. Gonna love you so fucking deep you’ll feel me for days—every time you move, you’ll know you’re mine.”

His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick skin sliding, thrusts frantic now—hips snapping, chaise rocking.

“Look at me,” he rasps, cupping your jaw. His blue eyes lock wild and intense. “I love you too—fuck, I love you.”

“I love—”

His mouth crashes onto yours, devouring, tongue thrusting in time with his cock as he ruts like he’s possessed—pouring a month of longing into every slam. His vibranium arm hooks your knee tighter, folding you impossibly deeper.

“Bucky—I’m gonna come—”

He grunts into the kiss, nipping your lip. “Then come. I want that pretty pussy squeezing me first.”

His thumb finds your clit, circling hard in sync with his relentless thrusts—and you shatter.

“Yes—yes—” you cry, walls clenching vise-tight, pulsing around him as pleasure whites out everything. Your nails dig bloody trails down his back; he hisses, thrusts erratic, chasing your climax.

His hips stutter, losing all rhythm as the pressure coils unbearably tight at the base of his spine.

“Fuck—oh fuck—” The words fracture against your neck, muffled and raw. His cock jerks again and again, thick ropes of semen flooding deep in hot, endless surges while he grinds slow circles. Each spasm drags helpless whine from him, hips grinding instinctively, dragging every last shuddering drop as far into you as he can get.

Finally spent, his body sags heavily on top of you—warm, sweat-slick weight pressing you into the chaise cushions, chest heaving with ragged pants against your throat. 

You unfold slowly, legs trembling as you lower them, ankles sliding down his sides until your thighs bracket his hips. The shift draws a soft groan from him—cock still buried deep, softening but reluctant to leave, letting gravity ease him out with a warm trickle of your mixed release leaking onto the leather.

Bucky lifts his head just enough to find your mouth, kissing you sweetly—slow, tender presses of his lips, gentle brushes of tongue, no hunger now, only devotion. He trails soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

He stays close, forehead resting against yours, the faint sheen of sweat cooling between you in the dim glow of the lamps. Those blue eyes, heavy-lidded and unguarded, trace your face like he’s memorizing you all over again.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with leftover want, thumb stroking slow along your cheekbone. “So fucking much.”

You lean up just enough to brush a soft peck against his lips, lingering there a second before pulling back. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, guilt threading through the words. “I’ll be more mindful when you’re stressed. I didn’t mean to push.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh, the sound warm and forgiving as he nuzzles closer, lips grazing yours again. “It’s okay, baby. Honestly? Best kind of stress relief I’ve had in weeks.” The corner of his mouth quirks—that familiar teasing glint flickering back into his eyes. “Might start picking fights on purpose if this is how we make up.”

He steals one more slow, sweet kiss before easing his weight off you. The cool air of the room rushes between your thighs, sticky and sensitive, and he notices the way you shift. “C’mon, let me clean you up.”

Before you can protest, he’s sliding his arms beneath you and lifting you effortlessly against his chest in a bridal carry. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, legs dangling, still boneless and floating as he pads barefoot across the living room toward the bathroom.

That’s when you glance over his shoulder—and freeze.

The tall brownstone windows are thrown wide open, sheer curtains pushed aside, and directly across the narrow street, in the window of the opposite brownstone, Mrs. Kowalski—the sweet little old lady who always bakes too many cookies and leaves them on Bucky’s stoop—is standing there in her robe, sipping coffee.

She’s holding up both hands, fingers splayed: a perfect 10.

Then she gives an enthusiastic thumbs-up, mouths “Happy New Year!” and adds a cheeky little golf clap.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, mortified heat flooding your face as you duck your head into Bucky’s neck.

Bucky slows, brow furrowing at the sudden tension in your body. “What?”

“Don’t—don’t turn around,” you hiss, burying your face deeper into his neck. “You’ll flash the entire block.”

Bucky freezes mid-step, confusion flickering before realization hits him like a truck. He’s stark naked, dick out in the breeze, carrying you the same way. His eyes widen, a rare flush creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears—the Winter Soldier actually blushing.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, shifting his hold on you instinctively to angle his hips away from the window, using your body like a very strategic human shield. He risks one quick, awkward sideways glance—just enough to spot Mrs. K’s scorecard performance—then snaps his gaze forward again, jaw tight and cringing from motification.

Mrs. Kowalski winks, points at you both like a proud matchmaker, and shuffles off—probably to speed dial her bridge club with the gossip of the century.

Bucky exhales a choked laugh, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as his whole body vibrates with it. “Well… at least we got a perfect score?” he manages, voice strained between amusement and genuine mortification. “Fuck, I’m never living this down. She’s gonna tell the whole block I’ve still got it.”

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[kejfeblintz]

In which there is reluctant affection, an emotionally significant heirloom quilt, and two highly educated doctors who really should pay more attention to the details of their domestic arrangements.

(look @ninanijn it's finally done!)

As The Wheel Turns

The third thing Jack learned about Dr Robinavitch was that he didn’t like to be touched. He preferred to be called Robby, he was the best damned ER doc that Jack had ever worked with, and he didn’t like to be touched. Jack filed the information away with the floor plan of the hospital and the location of the good coffee, and concentrated on being PTMC’s newest ER attending.

Jack had been there long enough to have an opinion on the Pens' chances in the upcoming season before he really started to notice Robby’s attempts at self-soothing. It was Dana tutting at the state of Robby’s hair that drew Jack’s attention to his habit of gripping his fingers in it when the board was particularly bad, to him running his hands over the nape of his own neck when Gloria had been on their case about satisfaction scores or wait times or something else wildly out of Robby’s control. Adamson did his best to head her off, but some things trickled down to the attendings despite his best efforts. Jack watched how tightly Robby wrapped his arms around himself when they lost a kid to something entirely preventable, how he tried to curl all 6 feet 1 inches of himself into someone who could hide in a hoodie. He wondered who’s arms Robby settled into at the end of a long shift, when Jack himself was tucked up close and cozy with his own wife.

By the time they were on beer drinking, game catching, first name terms, Jack knew that Robby kept his relationships light and casual. He had hookups and short, fiery relationships, but nothing long enough to talk about drawers in dressers or toothbrushes by the sink. “Not built for commitment,” Robby would say when asked, distracting Jack with another beer or a comment about the Pirates’ new pitcher. Jack would have let it slide, if it wasn’t for the clear paternal devotion he saw whenever Jake was mentioned. Robby’s soft, proud expression spoke of something deeper, something tucked away from public scrutiny. Jack noted it and started paying more attention.

Keep reading on AO3

[chelsreadsfics]

Good af

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this was soooo fuckingggg GOODDDDD

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sm au obsession getting worse :/

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another sm au

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sm au obsession continued: part ???

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Another sm au I loved

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obsessed with sm aus right now. this one genuinely had me crying laughing