Rach (she/her). 30s. Writer. Dreamer. 🥀 Mostly CEvans and SebStan. 🥀 NSFW. 18+ (if you’re under 18, Respect my Boundaries and Do Not Interact, please). 🥀 FanFic Recommendations 🥀 Check Out My AO3 or Masterlist
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Author’s Note: I aim to be inclusive in my writing, since reader characters are supposed to apply to everyone. However, not all of my older works are as inclusive as they could be and are influenced by my own experience. Please bear this in mind while exploring my masterlist. Thank you for reading!
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At some point in your life, you were taught that being slightly annoying is an unforgivable sin. Maybe it was by your parents or a teacher or a friend or a bully or an older sibling. But someone taught you that being slightly annoying is a crime punishable by death.
You must unlearn this.
You must accept that all people will be annoying at some point or another in their lives, maybe all of their lives, and that this is okay. It is okay for strangers on the bus, it is okay for children in the grocery store, it is okay for people on social media, and it is okay for you.
If you ever want to truly love your fellow humans, if you ever want to truly love yourself, you must have forgiveness for being annoying.
Summary: Hal is such a beautiful sight in the morning.
Word Count: 300
Playlist Prompt: Jump (For My Love) - Pointer Sisters / “I know you like what you see”
Warnings: Implied sex, reader is thirsty, humor, touch of fluff, pet name (baby), Hal Carter (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Day 7 of the June Jukebox Scribbles Challenge by @societynsoelsscribbles . ❤️ I posted 8 before 7! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
There was nothing quite like waking up to the sight of Hal Carter walking around your bedroom.
Naked.
Your thighs pressed together as he picked up your discarded clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket. The man had a body made for sinning and the delicious burn between your thighs served as a reminder of that. He could very well be the death of you and your pussy one day.
Maybe they’d put on your headstone, “Dicked to death and enjoyed every second of it.”
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and turned to give you a panty melting smile.
Oh, wait, he pulled those off with his teeth hours ago.
“Morning, baby.”
“Morning,” you breathed, watching him spin around and make a show of it when he picked up one more thing.
Harlot.
“You’re staring.”
Your cheeks went hot. It was kind of funny that him knowing you were staring was the thing that embarrassed you and not the noises he pulled out of you the night before. You seriously didn’t know how he managed to do that.
Then again, it was Hal and it shouldn’t have surprised you.
“I’m not staring,” you lied while staring directly at his backside.
You didn’t know if you should smack it, grab it, or sink your teeth into it.
Maybe all three.
He put his hand on his hips and faced you. Your eyes went right to his glorious dick. You were pretty sure you whimpered.
“I know you like what you see, but my eyes are up here,” he teased, gesturing to his face.
“Great. I can look at your tits on the way up,” you teased back.
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unwanted orgasms are such a hot idea. squirming under someone crying and begging them to stop, it hurts so bad but there's pleasure building up. desperately trying to ignore it but eventually it's too much and I cum all over their cock or fingers
they take notice and laugh at me and whisper "see, I knew you wanted it"
Summary: You and your friend play with a Ouija board in your new home.
Word Count: 300
Playlist Prompt: Living La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin / “I feel a premonition”
Warnings: Ouija board, soft dark vibes, creepy factor, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Day 8 of the June Jukebox Scribbles Challenge by @societynsoelsscribbles . ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
“I feel a premonition.”
You laughed a little. “This is a Ouija board. You don’t get premonitions from that.”
You weren’t sure how your friend, Beth, convinced you to do this in your new home. It was a little older and needed some work, but it was still nice. A perfect place to make a home.
Though for the few days you had been there, the rooms felt inexplicably cold at times. It felt like someone was watching you, especially when you were in the bathroom or bedroom. And you swore someone was whispering your name before you went to sleep.
But it had to be jitters since you lived alone.
No one was there except for you.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun,” she joked, closing her eyes. “Is there someone here with us?”
“I don’t think-”
The planchette began to move, Beth’s eyes going wide when it landed on “YES.”
“That…” She swallowed hard. “That wasn’t me.”
“It wasn’t me either,” you said, your heart racing faster. “What’s your name?”
The planchette moved again, slowly stopping at five letters.
“Bucky,” you whispered.
“Who the hell is Bucky?” Beth asked.
You shrugged because you had no idea. “Are you the one watching me?”
“Watching you?” she questioned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
The planchette went back to the word “YES.”
You both froze. Beth had a terrible poker face, so you knew she wasn’t doing this. But spirits didn’t exist.
Warnings: Secret dating, family tension, late-night kiss, soft possessive Lee
Words: 299 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles connected to This and This and THIS
Prompt: June 30th - “Call me at six on the dot.”
Lee parked two houses down like you asked.
Far enough that your daddy would not see the cruiser idling from the front windows if he was looking... Far enough that everyone in your family could keep acting like the problem was you running around with a deputy and not your stupid brother being incapable of staying on the right side of right.
Your house waited at the end of the street, porch light burning like judgement.
You looked at it like it was a noose blowing in the wind sighing. “I’m dead.”
Lee glanced over, one hand still on the wheel. “You’re not dead.”
“You don’t know my mama.” You shoulder dropped.
His mouth twitched. “Yes I do.”
“You promised to have me back before nine.”
“You asked me to drive slower.” Lee pointed out
“And you picked then to start listening?”
You tried not to smile, because smiling made it harder to leave. Your hand found the door handle.
Lee caught the other before you could open it.
“When can I call you?” He asked finger closing over yours.
“Lee...”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You gotta let me call you.”
You looked back at the house. The front curtain shifted.
“Call me at six,” you whispered. “On the dot.” At least that way you could get to the phone first.
His eyes held yours, serious now beneath the brim of his hat. “On the dot.”
You nodded, but he did not let go.
Instead, Lee gave your hand a small pull, just enough to bring you back across the bench seat. His mouth found yours, slow and sweet and ruined by the smile you could not keep down.
When he let you go, you slid back out of the car.
Floating down your street back home.
if the muse strikes you, could i please send you a prompt for ari levinson + “you weren’t supposed to see that.”
i dont mind smutty or fluffy or whatever direction you chose to take! thank you <33
I hope you enjoy this little tidbit with Ari! ❤️
Starring: Mob!Ari Levinson x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ because my blog is, but this fic is all fluff.
Word count: 509
You were looking for Ari. The house was suspiciously quiet, and for a man built like a mountain, he had an alarming habit of disappearing without making a sound.
“Ari?” you called, wandering toward the den. There was no answer. But then, something caught your ear.
“Who’s the handsomest little baby angel, huh?”
You froze.The voice was unmistakably Ari’s, low, warm, and completely unlike the gruff tone he used with just about everyone else. You crept closer, peeking around the doorway.
Your enormous, intimidating boyfriend was sitting cross-legged on the rug still in his long sleeve button down, but he had rolled the sleeves up his forearms, exposing his tattooed skin. He’s letting your puppy enthusiastically attack one of the rolled cuffs of his shirt while he rubbed little circles into the pup’s belly.
“Look at you,” Ari cooed. “My fierce little guard dog. You’re gonna protect your mama one day, aren’t you?”
The puppy answered by licking Ari square across the nose. Ari laughed. Actually laughed. A soft, breathy sound that made your heart melt.
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
You blinked. “What?”
He looked up, caught red-handed with thirty pounds of wiggling fluff sprawled across his lap. “This.” He gestured vaguely between himself and the puppy. “I’ve got a reputation.”
You folded your arms, barely holding back a grin. “Oh? The reputation of a terrifying hulk who tells puppies they’re brave because they barked at the vacuum?”
Ari sighed dramatically. “It was a very aggressive vacuum.”
You laughed, finally stepping into the room. The puppy abandoned Ari immediately, racing over to you before darting right back to him, as if unwilling to choose favorites.
Ari scratched behind those floppy ears with practiced ease. “I like people thinking I’m intimidating,” he muttered.
“They still will.”
“You don’t think this hurts my image?”
You looked at the massive man, whose beard had somehow collected dog hair, and whose expression had gone impossibly gentle.
“No.” You smiled, kneeling beside him. “I think it proves what I’ve always known.”
“And what’s that?”
You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “The biggest, strongest man I know has the softest heart.”
His ears turned just a little pink. “Don’t go spreadin’ that around.”
“I don’t know…” you teased. “I think I should tell everyone how you called him your ‘precious little baby angel.’”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You did.”
“I said handsomest little baby angel.”
You burst into laughter. Ari groaned, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder while the puppy happily climbed into both your laps, tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole body.
“Traitor,” Ari muttered to the dog.
The puppy rewarded him with another slobbery kiss.
“Yeah, alright,” Ari sighed, scratching under the puppy’s chin. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
You smiled to yourself. The rest of the world could keep believing Ari Levinson was all broad shoulders, stern looks, and quiet intimidation. Because this version, the one who whispered encouragement to a puppy, accepted kisses with exaggerated grumbles, and blushed when you caught him being gentle, was yours.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Warnings: 18+ as my blog is 18+, but this fic is all fluff.
Word Count: 410
The first thing you become aware of is warmth. Not sunlight, not yet. The curtains are still drawn against the pale dawn filtering through the trees outside the cabin.
A heavy arm draped around your waist. A broad chest pressed against your back. Slow, even breaths ghosting over the nape of your neck. You smile before you’re even fully awake.
Curtis makes a sleepy sound behind you, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, tightening his hold just enough to pull you impossibly closer.
“Mm…” His voice is rough with sleep. “Where d’you think you’re goin’?”
You laugh softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
“You’ve become clingy.”
“I’m comfortable,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “Different thing.”
“You own pillows, you know.”
“They don’t cuddle back.”
You shake your head, smiling as you turn to face him.
“There you are,” he murmurs, finally opening his eyes.
“I’ve been here the whole time.”
“Mhm.” His thumb brushes your cheek. “Still nice to see you.”
Your heart melts a little.
He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, sleepy kiss. One becomes two, then three, until he’s smiling against your mouth.
His kisses wander to your jaw, then lower toward your neck.
The scruff of his beard brushes your skin.
You jolt with a tiny squeak before bursting into helpless laughter. Curtis immediately lifts his head. “Did I do somethin’?”
You can barely answer through your giggles.
“Your beard!”
“My beard?”
“It tickled!”
He blinks once.
Then a slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face.
“I tickled you?”
“It was an accident.”
“Still counts.”
Before you can escape, he nuzzles your neck again—just enough for his beard to brush your skin.
“Curtis!”
Your laughter fills the cabin as you try to shove him away, but he catches your wrists with one hand, laughing just as hard.
“I didn’t know you were ticklish.”
“I didn’t either!”
“Hm.” He looks entirely too pleased with himself. “That feels like important information.”
“It feels like information you’re going to abuse.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
You groan dramatically.
“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“You sure did.”
He kisses your forehead this time, careful to keep his beard away, though the grin never leaves his face.
“I’ll be nice.”
You eye him suspiciously. “I don’t believe you.”
His chuckle rumbles warmly between you, and as he pulls you back into his arms, you can’t help smiling. Somehow, you already know tomorrow morning is going to start exactly the same way.
i keep seeing misinformation about this, so: queerplatonic relationships do not have a set definition. the name comes from the idea that it's "queering" the platonic relationship, tailoring it to the individual relationships' own desires. it isn't necessarily romance lite, but it also isn't necessarily whatever definition you want to impose on it. the point of queering the platonic relationship is to break away from strict allonormative views on friendship, romance, and sex, not to make a new categorical box to fit in.
the answer to "what is a qpr?" is "whatever you want it to be." sometimes that is romance lite. sometimes it's a deeply committed friendship. sometimes it's friends who have a sexual relationship. sometimes it's based on an entirely different mode of attraction. sometimes it's fluid and impossible to put into words. it's whatever you want it to be. it's queer.
The rest of the building thinks it's a defective unit, a freak amongst the service androids that work here, but you're kind of fond of him.
Sure, the fact that your work building is shared with a morgue is strange enough, but the real oddity is that the actual morgue is run almost entirely but service androids. Something about the droids being better at the delicate tasks of funerary make up and it being cheaper than getting human professionals, but it's not your business to know the why or how's of that part of the morgue, you really only care about visiting your unusual friend in his work area.
It's probably not healthy, mentally at least, to lay on the cold metal table in his work area while you talk with the android. But you're surprisingly comfortable as you watch him pull on fresh gloves, it's strange, unlike the other androids he lacks the synth skin over his hands and instead chooses to wear the standard sterile gloves, the black nitrile moving easily across the mixed polymer of his hands as he turns towards you.
He's talking about the last person he had worked on, tracing the path of his work on your face, talking about how he had to remake the nose and brow area almost from scratch.
These conversations, the way he moves and acts is what makes people think he's defective, it's like he actually enjoys his work; not just programmed to complete it. Closing your eyes you ask about anything else he's worked on while you were away from the weekend, listening to the click of the shoes the morgue makes him wear as he moves around the room, humming and asking questions here and there as he describes the other major works he had done. For a service android you find him strangely comforting, you'd only admit to yourself in the dark of night that you also find him attractive in a strange way, but that's for you and the 2am dreams of a very different kind to know.
When you open your eyes again he's leaning over you, the lenses of his eyes focusing on your face visibly.
It's not unusual for him to do this, you think he likes to take in the shape of your face, storing the image in his data banks for reference purposes. If only you knew how many of these images he takes, storing them in folders for personal enjoyment or as much enjoyment as a droid such as he can have.
Perhaps one day he will leave the morgue, follow you up the steps into the warm upper levels and remove the thorns of your coworkers from his path and get more of your time, or maybe he will bring you down here, to his level in the cold and the dark. You seem a perfect piece on the metal of his work table, moving, breathing, talking, and so very human in a way he feels must be envy for, yet in another second his inner processors stutter, envy is right, droids don't want like that, no, he wants to catalogue what makes you so human to him, what makes his code loop the images of you over and over again.
All of his inner directories and logic paths lead to one definition...
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Imagine trying to play a prank on Captain America by taking him to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show. But he ends up really liking it and now you both go see it whenever it's playing.
One time you dressed up as Frank n Furter and you both end up being a little late to the showing. Your fishnets a little extra ripped and he's covered in lipstick.
