#no rest for the wicked

[welldigger62]

Yes, it’s Sunday and as soon as I saw this yummy flavor I thought of @thisgingersnapped50 It looks like some of you favorite stuff all mixed together. Happy Ice Cream Sunday and post-race rest day 😃

[sysig]

Being a villain isn’t all fun and games! Just mostly (Patreon)

[crystalxdeathheadx]

-

[steamcaptain]

.

[phantomdriftcr]

Don’t expect her to come running when you get snatched. She’s no hero.

[pinkaddiofficial]

i was going to make a robot apocalypse joke but then i remembered that you actually went and did that and uhhhhhhhh... oops! !

!

I'm... so tired.

[foreverascout]

Birthday continued x || @arrowablaze

    So deep in slumber that Jean's voice barely registered at first, Sasha shifted as she was roused, legs shifting beneath the covers and accidentally prodding what was probably Honey curled up at the foot of the bed. A soft groan left her as she felt Jean pull her in, and she snuggled into his side comfortably, wrapping an arm around his midriff. "Mornin'..." A sleepy, mumbled reply.

     She briefly registered the warmth of the sun hitting her face - not a regular occurrence since she was often up before the crack of dawn - and she was hit by the sudden realisation of what day it was. With a loud gasp, she jolted awake, sitting up in bed and almost whacking Jean in the face.

    "It's your birthday! I totally overslept!" She'd planned to get up early, bake a small blueberry cake, and bring it to him in bed with flowers from the garden. She'd even pre-mixed the ingredients the night before, yet somehow she'd slept through the roosters' morning call.

The way Sasha moved into his chest, her arm lazily wrapping around his waist had him smiling into her hair. It was one of his favourite times of day, waking up beside his girl, their dog at the foot of their bed, the songbirds greeting the morning. He was just relaxing back into the pillow, his hand on her hip, pulling her into him as he went to kiss her neck again, just as she sat up. He blinked as his narrowly escaped a concussion, worried he had missed something until she explained the sudden movement. 

A laugh slipped out, his hand stroked down her back, fingers making soft motions along her spine. “But the best way to start my birthday is waking up next to you” he spoke, putting his free hand behind his head, “And I wanna stay in bed a little longer and do some fun things with you” he winked. A charming smirk on his face as he continued his gentle strokes on her back, “It is my birthday”.  

[myershorror]

Amazon: "Hey, how was it reading 'Hunting Adeline'?" Me: "How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm still stuck on chapter two of 'Wildfire', 'cause it's so repetitive & boring; pretty much the same story again as 'Ice Breaker'!"

[warwicked]

Tags

[acrylic-reverie]

[AGONY] - Your muse rescues mine from the hands of the enemy, and finds them in terrible shape. {Dream and Punz? ouo}

🖋 Muse Interactions | Misc. Scenario Meme

Everything feels agonising, and that is no overstatement. Dream can barely stand in the sun for longer than a minute or so. The prison was dark, illuminated only by a sickly salamander glow; that wall of lava was more of a temptation than a light source. Spilling thickly over the roof of xyr cell, curling in on itself and shifting into molten shapes that beckoned xem with a curdling voice and popped intervals. The heat gnawed at every part of xem. Lapped at xyr skin until it charred and ate away at xyr mind until only ashes remained. Confined by the sharp-ridged walls of obsidian, sometimes it felt particularly hard to breathe, when there was nothing but heat to fill xyr lungs.

Stepping out into the daytime now is nothing short of excruciating, when it is such a dramatic change to xyr previous environment. It's too cold. Xe extends xyr arms into the light and waits for flaming teeth to sink themselves into xyr skin, but it's too cold. Gold tumbling over xyr limbs, as bitter and frigid as the metal itself. It is less gentle when it climbs higher, twisting beneath xyr chin and skimming its talons along the side of xyr cheek. Digging the points into xyr eyes. Dream recoils when his eyes burn, rolling back to catch the flames on brimming tears that gather in the corners of his eyes and along his lashes. The constant pain is rising until it finds the inner walls of his skull and a pounding headache joins the amalgamation of deep-rooted pain.

It's difficult to follow in suit when shivers wrack throughout his body constantly, and even squinting becomes a chore, but they have to keep moving. Hands firmly held above his eyes to block out as much sun as possible. Punz is a blurry shape in front of him, barely humanoid through his swimming vision, but it's easy enough to follow the mass of white and blonde that's seemingly getting further and further away from him. He even considers reaching out. Hooking his fingers on the fabric of Punz's hoodie where it creases and folds over, before he gets too far ahead without realising. Thin, frail fingers twitch with anticipation. He has to wonder if his hand will even close around the material, or if his muscles have been too greatly starved by dry, raw potatoes to work anymore.

Dream feels sick. Not because he's ill, but because the premise of being in such a weak state in front of someone he'd consider is a friend is humiliating enough to make his stomach churn. "Wait," his voice is gravelly and rumbled at the back of his throat, kicking up dust while his vocal cords tear free of aged webs and moss. It's pathetic. He stops walking and bows his head with his eyes glued shut. Filthy, matted hair stretching beyond his shoulder spills forth in a dry heap. Lashes trembling beneath the weight of the sun, shame and bile rising in his throat. Maybe it isn't just the humiliation settling uncomfortably in his gut. Acid simmers and growls and he comes to terms with the fact that he is starving. Walking for this long, while his bones nearly tear through his brittle skin, is awfully taxing.

Xe trusts Punz to guide xem somewhere safe, that's the only reason xe is still standing. But even after xe has been dying for so long, covered in grave soil, xyr pride still lives. Xe would sooner die than admit to, albeit very obvious, weakness.

[hclluvahctel-a]

“come on, just admit it- i’m starting to grow on you, aren’t i?” //bothering Drone again <3 ~@von-eldritch

HE GRIMACES TOWARDS HELLSA AS SHE SPEAKS, evidently not pleased to be seeing her again. She truly was like a rogue stinger in his side, one that liked to come back for more. "NO, you're really not." He grits out, antennae twitching in a since of irritation.

[honestly-what-the-lix]

I Should Be Jealous.

Summary: Chan, your boyfriend, sees you cuddling Jinsung and his heart melts a little.

Warnings: Just fluff for our sweet boys.

W.C.: 750

Notes: Idk, I am in love with Chan, but I want to baby the shit out of the Sunshine Twins.

You’d been peacefully reading on the couch, waiting for the boys to wake up on their day off for about half an hour before the first sign of life caught your attention. The door to one of the bedrooms opened and closed, followed by sleepy footsteps coming down the hall.

You looked up over the edge of the book to see Jisung’s puffy face and tousled hair. “Morning Ji.”

“Morning, Noona.” He mumbled back as he walked sluggishly to the couch.

“Still sleepy?” You asked, slipping the bookmark between the book pages and setting it to the side.

He nodded, his tired pout playing on his lips.

“C’mere.” You flipped the blanket that had been laying over your legs to the back of the large L-shaped couch and opened your arms for the boy.

He wasted no time in laying his body over yours in a koala fashion.

You flipped the blanket back down to cover him before sliding your fingers through his hair and humming and rocking just slightly until his breathing evened back out.

Keeping one arm over his back, you reached to grab your book and continued reading until rustling caught your attention from the same hallway a little while later. Floorboards creaked slightly as someone made their way down the hall and into the living room.

You smiled brightly as a barefaced, curly haired Chris emerged. “Good morning handsome.” You whispered, subconsciously rubbing Jisung’s back to keep him asleep.

“Good morning baby.” He replied just as quietly as he walked over to kiss your forehead. “You want some coffee?”

“Hmm, would you make me tea instead?” You asked, earning a nod as made his way into the kitchen.

You turned your head so you could watch him as he boiled the water for your tea and started the coffee for himself, only drifting your gaze down to Jisung when a few soft snores slipped past his lips. Your gaze returned to Chan who lifted up the sugar container with a raised eyebrow, a silent ask of how much. You raised two fingers and he nodded as he filled your mug.

He walked back in with two mugs and settled next to you on the couch. “I should be jealous of this, you know.” He chuckled lowly, motioning to the boy sleeping on top of you.

You smiled and shook your head. “Yeah, maybe if it wasn’t one of your members. Though, no one but the members are allowed to, so.” You sipped your tea quietly as Chan rested his head on your shoulder.

“I adore you for how well you take care of them, you know.” He reached up to Jisung’s back to lace his fingers with yours, helping rub the younger man’s back.

“I’m dating their dad, I wouldn’t dream of being the wicked stepmother.” You kissed the top of his head, causing him to giggle a bit.

Felix walked out next and pouted. “I want Noona cuddles.” He whined a little louder than you would have wanted.

“Shh, Lix. Ji is sleeping.” You still motioned him over though. “Lay across Channie and I’ll play with your hair, hm?” You offered, setting the now empty mug on the end table.

Chan’s smile was wide as he repositioned himself so the younger boy could lay across him.

Felix laid on his back, his head resting on Jisung’s arm but turned to face you with a content smile.

Your now free hand slipped into Felix’s hair, gently twisting the strands between your fingers and lightly scratching his scalp.

“This is nice.” Felix hummed, eyes closing to bask in the attention.

Chan squeezed your hand as he mumbled a soft, “It is.”

“Yeah, until Binnie gets up and wakes Hanji.” You pressed a kiss into the boy’s hair.

Felix giggled, nodding in agreement.

“What do you guys want to do today?” You ask, cheek resting against the spot you kissed on Jisung.

“We could go for lunch, take a walk down by the river, and get some ice cream.” Chan suggested, wondering what that would be like with your future children.

“Lunch!” The yell came from the stairs, causing Jisung to jerk awake and push up a little to look around with wide, confused eyes.

“Seo Changbin.” You scolded, head snapping to the side to look at the boy in question.

His mouth puckered and his eyes widened. “Sorry Noona.”

Chan and Felix burst out laughing as Jisung buried his face deeper into your neck with a whine.

[clockwayswrites]

Birdritch what? Part 7

masterpost

It was warm.

That was the first thing that Danny noticed as he started to wake.

Danny didn’t sleep warm. Too often if it was too warm, Danny would wake up and have to push aside layers of bedding or shed clothing. Cooling sheets, heat wicking pillow, and light pajamas was the way for Danny to sleep best. He felt oddly rested despite the heat.

It was also heavy.

That was the second thing that Danny noticed.

Maybe he fell asleep with the weighted blanket on the couch?

Except that didn’t feel right.

His couch wasn’t that firm. His couch didn’t snore and his weighted blanket didn’t have arms. Yeah, okay, yep. Someone definitely had their arms wrapped around Danny, tucking him close to their very well defined chest and under their chin. Someone else, a much smaller someone, was tucked close to Danny’s elbow and breathing softly.

What the fuck did he get up to last night?

And why couldn’t he remember any of it?

Someone else mumbled something sleepily. That was three at least, four counting him. Maybe five with the soft, breathy snore? Danny stayed as still as possible and tried to mentally retrace his steps.

He had been at work. Right, Lucius had sent him home since it had gotten late. Danny had gotten food and headed home. He must have gone through Ivy’s park, it would have been the closest way…

…and that’s all.

He couldn’t remember anything after that.

There were flashes of fear and burning lungs and that deep-seated need protect, but over all of that there was a sense of belonging. No, belonging was quite the right word. It was less that he had belonged but more like he had found the missing pieces that had belonged to him.

As much as the snatches of feelings were coated with good, Danny couldn’t help the panic that settled in his chest. He didn’t remember. He should remember, being what he was. Why didn’t he remember? Why hadn’t he just gone ghost? Why did his bones ache like he had gone ghost? If he had he should remember.

Fuck, what sort of rogue shit had he gotten dosed with in the park?

The hand on his chest pressed down purposefully.

“Breathe.” The voice was low and rough, heavily with sleep over a deep gravely timber.

Danny wanted to say that he was trying to breathe, thank you very much whoever the fuck you are, but all that came out was a little wheeze of air.

“Okay. Here’s my other hand. One squeeze for yes, two for no.”

A large, calloused hand slipped into Danny’s, twining with his own scarred and bandaged fingers. Danny gave the hand a squeeze.

“Has this happened to you before?”

One squeeze.

“Often?”

Two.

“Is this an allergic response?”

Two quick squeezes.

“Asthma?”

Danny hesitated before giving three squeezes. He could hear other people starting to stir now, but kept his eyes stubbornly closed. He wasn’t ready to actually deal with the people he had fallen asleep with. Besides, it was hard to hear over the beat of his own heart.

“…No, or more, not yet?”

One firm squeeze.

“Panic or anxiety attack then?”

One hesitant, embarrassed squeeze.

“Alright. I am going to sit us up. Lean back against me and follow my breathing.”

Danny tried not to whimper as he was shifted. He failed.

“I’ll get a damp towel,” another voice offered quietly.

Fuck towels, Danny wanted his pain meds. He must have not taken them last night and now everything was stiff and tight. Forget breathing, Danny just wanted to stay curled up in the blanket and not move. Maybe everyone else would leave wherever they were and Danny could just go ghost and slip out of there without dealing with any of this.

“Relax,” the low voice rumbled.

Danny would have cussed them out if he had the voice to.

The board chest that Danny was resting against took an exaggerated breath. Danny struggled to try and follow it. It didn’t seem like he was getting out of breathing, damn it. An ice cold cloth suddenly pressed against his neck, startling Danny enough to suck in a breath of air.

“There, keep that up,” the main voice instructed.

Danny pinched the fingers still closed gently around his in retaliation.

Someone else, more feminine sounding, laughed while the person behind him let out a slightly amused huff. “I know you know. Now your body just needs to know.”

Danny pinched them again, though to their credit they didn’t pull away their hand. Which was… sorta nice. As much as Danny was sulking about it all, the comfort of a hand in his was nice. The calloused thumb rubbed gently over that web of skin between Danny’s thumb and pointer fingers in a pattern that Danny worked to match his breath to. Finally Danny figured he needed to brave opening his eyes.

He wasn’t in a hotel.

Or an apartment.

Or any sort of room.

No, he was in a cave. As suspiciously well furnished cave completely with a grouping of vigilantes watching him curiously.

“Well, at least it wasn’t an orgy,” Danny grumbled.

He heard someone trip further into the cave.

[kingofthe-egirls]

SITTING PRETTY: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: alcohol, kitsune, east blue crew, yes i was imagining the opla cast but so were you, kissing, sitting in someone’s lap)

(a/n: this was so fun. smut maybe coming soon? we’ll see)

Songs: “Hotel” by Claire Rosinkranz

words: 1.2k

Luffy is staring at you.

He’s sitting across the campfire from you, sipping a glass of milk through a straw. You have your own moscow mule in hand, the copper mug sweating with cold condensation.

The air smells like smoke.

“So!” Luffy speaks, twirling his straw around in his drink. He slurps it loudly before continuing, “Let’s play a game!”

He smiles around at the rest of the crew, who are all in their own various states of intoxication. It’s been a long night, after several days at sea with no islands in sight. Everyone is a little bored, a little stressed, and more than a little in need of blowing off some steam. Nami shrugs.

“Sure, captain. What’s up?”

Luffy leans forward, wicked smirk painting his charming features. You stare down into your melted ice and muddled mint leaves.

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

Zoro sighs, but leans forward too. Sanji and Usopp also perk up. The Merry creaks in the waves as she sails. The ocean laps at her sides, soothing and peaceful in the summer night air. The campfire sparks up with a flare.

Luffy slurps his milk.

“What are the stakes?” Nami asks, adjusting in her seat, her boots slung over one another as she leans back. Usopp is fiddling with his slingshot.

Zoro shrugs, “Drink if you won’t take a dare, drink twice if you won’t take a truth.”

“So, we’re trying to outmatch each other? Get stuff we won’t wanna do?”

“Sorta,” Zoro says, “S’alright with everyone?”

“Sounds fun,” you admit, downing your glass before handing it off to Sanji. He’s a sucker for your sparkly eyes and fluffy tails. Your ears flick back and forth, excited. Nervous.

Sanji hurries back with a refill.

He straightens his suit jacket before sitting back down. The indigo night washes over him with a flattering, velvet softness. You wonder what shade of blue his eyes are, up close.

Luffy clears his throat.

“Sooo, who wants to go first?” His shining eyes scan the crew, and you flick up a tail (or two). He smiles, and takes a sip of his kid’s drink.

You sigh. “Truth,” you say, staring at Nami. You figure she’s gonna strike the worst, so might as well get it over with first. She stares at you, flicking her eyes up and down your scrappy frame. She arches an auburn brow.

“So, Kitty,” she sips her cider, and Sanji shifts in his seat. “Have you ever had sex before?”

She’s smiling, devilish, as you snort through your drink. She laughs as you cough, orange hair swaying in the soft breeze. Everyone else stutters and laughs, and Zoro mutters something about “starting off strong.” You swallow, sucking your teeth as you swirl melted ice around your drink.

“Yes.”

Everyone sighs out in relief, tension removed for a second of release.

Your eyes flick up to hers.

“Your turn.”

She stares back at you: a challenge.

“Dare.”

You shrug, mouth turned down, “I dare you to say when the last time you had sex was.” You stare at her glare, as she clocks you basically just gave her a truth anyway. She sniffs.

“Last week.”

“Liar!” You say, and she giggles. You shove the bottle of tequila closer to her, and she swallows what is certainly more than just one shot.

“Your turn,” she says to Zoro, who glances at Luffy for his prompt.

Luffy stares at the floor, now-empty glass held loosely in slender fingers. “What…is your favorite color?”

“I didn’t say truth, captain,” Zoro snorts, “Truth or dare, Luffy.”

“Dare?”

Sanji sighs, and Usopp says “we might as well go with it,” so Zoro sighs and starts to think of something to dare his already-reckless captain with. He settles on something silly, and tame.

“I dare you to slingshot back and forth across the ship five times.”

Happy to be moving, your hyperactive friend shoots up and starts gum-gum rocketing across the ship with no small amount of shouting. You swirl the mint leaves in your drink. “Your turn,” you murmur to Usopp, who gives Sanji a glance.

“Truth or dare?” The chef asks, his own glass of wine clutched in his delicate fist. It’s as dark as the sea.

“Truth.”

“What do Kaya’s lips taste like?”

The group ooo’s in scandalous delight, all eyes on the sniper as he stares down into his drink. “Pass,” he says, and takes a huge slurp. It dribbles down his chin. “Who’s turn is next?”

“Sanji,” you say, turning to him with a smile, “Truth or dare, handsome?”

He blushes at your pet name, and someone coughs. The blond boy licks his lips. His eyes meet yours, reflecting the fire’s red heat.

“Dare.”

“Kiss my cheek,” you preen, tails flicking around you. You bare the side of your face to him, sitting pretty by the campfire. Your scrappy jeans have stitched-on patches, and your crop top hangs loose around your frame. A single pendant hangs around your neck, and your hair is twisted into messy braids. You knock your steel-toed boots together.

Sanji hums, peaceful, as he delicately scoots toward you. He’s already sitting next to you, tall legs and broad shoulders bumping into yours as he settles closer in. His hand is slightly cool as it graces the side of your neck. “Be still, pretty,” he whispers, just for you, as he presses a slow smooch against your cheek. He bites it, playfully, and you swat him away with a fearsome blush.

Usopp giggles, and Nami snorts into her cider again. Zoro and Luffy are both silent. You swallow, and cast about the crew for someone else’s turn. “Is it me again?” You ask, and Zoro nods.

“Truth or dare?” He says, sake almost drained from his bottle. The air stills, sudden breeze gone quiet as you sit together. You curl two tails around yourself, petting the soft, arctic fur in your lap. It scratches against the striped patch on the side of your left hip.

“Truth.”

“Nope,” Zoro says, swigging his sake, “Truth is boring. You’re doing a dare. Sit in the lap of the person you’d most like to have sex with.”

Everyone gasps, except for you.

Your eyes burn with smoke, staring down the swordsman across the crackling flames. Sparks shoot up between you, orange and hazy in the moonlight. Something thumps against the ship; a fish or a shark that swims away silently.

You stand.

Sanji shifts, still close to you from his kiss. He scratches the fabric of his slacks above his left knee. His shoes are shiny and black beneath the stars. You step over them, carefully.

And you make your way across the circle, slowly as a shark circling prey.

“Sorry,” you whisper, standing in front of the captain who saved you, “Is this seat taken?”

He stares at you.

His breath comes ragged and hazy, as he sets his glass down to make room. His hands are sweaty, so he wipes them off on his shorts as you stand beside his hip. He leans back, slightly, to let you sit side-saddle across his legs. He shifts on the deck so he’s cross-legged, and you take your seat with a searing blush. Your ass fits neatly into the space between his crisscrossed legs, his heat spilling into your body as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He nuzzles into your cheek, his soft hair tickling your jaw. “Sleeping in my hammock tonight,” he whispers, his lips in your hair, “Captain’s orders.”

****

[cameronspecial]

At Her Beck And Call

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Assault

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe may be out doing business, but he is never too busy for Y/N.

Masterlist

Everyone in the Outer Banks knows about Rafe’s explosive personality, especially towards the Pogues. The only person who is never at the wrong end of his anger is Y/N. He would never dare risk losing her by unleashing his anger on her. At the moment, she is safely at home, resting with their darling baby girl growing inside of her stomach. He is finishing up collecting the money from people who owe him from his drug dealer days. When he started dating Y/N, he stopped dealing less often; however, with a baby on the way, Rafe is ready to hang up the towel completely. Therefore, it is time for him to gather all the debts obligated to him. He finally tracks down the last person, Tanner Barrois. The Pogue is hiding out at a friend’s house but for enough money, anyone can betray their friend. Rafe bangs on the door as loud as he can and steps away from it. “What the fuck do you wan-” Tanner complains as he opens the door. Rafe gives him a wicked grin, “I want my fucking money, Asshole.” Tanner backs up into the house with his hands in the air. “I don’t have your money, but I can get it to you. I-I just need a few weeks,” he offers. Rafe shakes his head, “No, I already gave you three months. So where is my money?”

“I don’t have it!” 

Rafe grips the front of Tanner’s shirt and slams him against the wall. His arm cocks, rushing towards Tanner’s nose at a fast pace. The room is silent, except for the sounds of Rafe’s fist hitting Tanner, until “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran begins to play out of nowhere. Something vibrating accompanies the song. Rafe keeps Tanner against the wall with one hand, while his other hand goes into his pocket for his phone. He brings it to his ear with a soft smile, “Hi, Dumpling. How are you and little dumpling doing?” “I’m hungry, Rafey,” the pregnant woman whines with her hands on her perturbing stomach. He chuckles, “And what can I pick up for you on my way home, Dumpling?” “I want Trader Joe’s French Vanilla ice cream, soya sauce, pickles and mayo please,” she pleads into the phone. He grimaces, “Please, tell me you aren’t going to eat all of those together.” “I don’t know yet. I guess you’ll have to find out when you get here,” she teases, knowing he gets grossed out by her weird pregnancy cravings. He sighs, “I guess I will. I’ll get those for you once I’m finished with my business. Okay? I love you.” “Thank you. I love you too. Bye,” she hangs up without another word. 

The phone gets slipped back into his pocket and his attention returns to Tanner. “Now, where were we?” He punches Tanner again, shaking his hand out to try to rid himself of the blood. “I’m going to ask you again. Where is my money?” Rafe growls. Tanner whimpers, “I can get it to you by next week.” Tanner receives another blow to the head. “Not the answer I was looking for. So let’s try this once more,” Rafe warns, but he is again interrupted by the chime of his phone. “Is everything okay, Dumpling?” he worries into the speaker.

“It needs to be the tiny pickles. I don’t want the large ones. I don’t want the zig-zag cut ones or the straight-cut ones. I want the tiny ones. Okay?”

“Yes, I know, Dumpling. I promise they will be the tiniest ones I can find.” 

“Good, thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dumpling. Goodbye.”

Tanner’s face is in a bloody smirk. “What the fuck are you smiling at?” Rafe questions, digging his forearm into the Pogue's neck. Tanner gasps out, “You are so whipped for her.” Rafe’s eyebrows cave in and he strikes Tanner’s stomach. “Be careful what you say next, Motherfucker,” Rafe alerts. Tanner appears to have a death wish as he says the next sentence, “That bitch has your balls in a death grip and it’s pathetic.” His phone rings once more before he can reply. “Dumpling, you are really making me concerned about you,” he sighs into the phone. She pouts, “I’m sorry. I just wanted something to drink too.” “It’s okay, Dumpling. I want you to stay hydrated. So what can I get you?” he inquires. “Iced tea, please. And I promise this will be the last time I’m going to call. I’m going to take a nap while I wait for you to come home.”

“Iced tea, coming right up. Enjoy your nap, Dumpling. I’ll see you when I get home. I love you.”

“I love you so much, Rafey. Thank you. I can’t wait for you to come home. Muah.”

The line goes dead and he can’t help but put his phone away with a massive grin on his face. He weakens his hold on Tanner, “You better be thanking the lord that I am whipped for my girl because it is the only reason I am giving you another day to get the money. Don’t try to run because I will find you and your punishment will be so much worse than you can imagine. Now, if you would excuse me, I have to go to Trader’s Joe.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You open the cupboard and rummage through the contents. Rice crackers, no. Protein powder, please. You scoff and find what looks to be chocolate but as you rip the wrapper open and bite into it, the bitterness nearly gags you. You rush to the sink and spit it out. 

“Glad to see you making yourself at home,” Steve muses from the doorway. 

You look to him and fold the wrapper back around the bar. You scowl and go to put it back. You shake your head. 

“I’m starving,” you say. “So hungry it hurts.” 

You rub your stomach as a wave of dizziness bobbles your head. Between waves of nausea and fatigue, the ravenous need consumes you. You search around, forgetting him for the pang in your stomach. You pull open the fridge and pull out the yogurt. You peel the lid off and grab the sugar dish and pour it into the container. 

“Woah, woah, that’s not good for the baby,” Steve rushes forward. 

“Don’t,” you warn as you slide open drawers in search of a spoon, “do you have pickles?” 

“Pickles? With yogurt?” 

“I’m fucking hungry!” You growl, a surge of rage searing through your veins as you grab a spoon. “If I have to be here, let me eat, at least.” 

“I don’t mind you eating, but you gotta be careful--” 

“Pickles,” you remind him. 

“Don’t got any, sorry. But I can go grab some, I guess. If you make a list--” 

He gets closer and you recoil. You wave your hand at him and plug your nose, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Excuse me?” He grimaces. 

“Your cologne or something. It’s setting me--” 

You spin and hold the spoon behind you as you puke into the sink. Your body lurches with each violent wretch. The bile does little to deter your appetite. You simply rinse out your mouth and the sink and go back to the hunt for satiation. 

“They said the symptoms will probably be worse than usual,” he leans on the counter and watches you. “Nausea, hunger, hormones...” 

“Goddamn? Ice cream? Do you have ice cream?” You snarl down at the freezer drawer. 

“I’m not much of a sweets guy.” 

“No pickles, no ice cream. Baking chocolate and sour yogurt.” You rant. 

“I told you, I’ll go get you some stuff-” 

“Then go.” You snap. 

“Hey, watch it.” 

“Or what?” You face him defiantly. “I’m carrying your baby, Steve Rogers, so you can’t do shit.” 

“I can do whatever needs to be done. You might require bedrest.” 

“Bedrest? I’m fine.” You insist and turn your back to him. 

“You’re tearing apart my kitchen and slathering like a dog,” he reproaches. 

“Slathering like a dog? Tell me again about how in love you are.” You snip, “Jeez.” 

“I didn’t mean—honey, sweetheart, I’m just trying to help you settle. We both gotta learn to live with each other. We only got seven months or so to do so.” He crosses his arms as you pull out the loaf of bread and load the toaster. 

“Hmm, you know what will help me settle in? Peanut butter and jelly. Oh and cream cheese. Mmph, yes,” you march around the kitchen and grab the butter. “Also, oreos--bagels!” 

“Okay, I’ll head out,” he sniffs and shifts flat on his feet. 

“Great,” you go back to the toaster as the scent of the browning bread drives you wild. 

He approaches you from behind and you do your best to ignore him. You bounce on your heels impatiently and tap your fingers. You stiffen as he rests his hands on your hips. You have nowhere to go. 

“A kiss before I go?” He asks. 

You hold back a heave, “I just puked.” 

“I don’t care,” he squeezes, “please. It’s been a while since that night. I’m a bit... neglected.” 

You lock your jaw and stare at the tiled wall. You force the tension out and steel yourself. You turn to him and your insides coil uncomfortably. 

“Fine,” you croak. 

He leans in and presses his lips to yours. You hold back an eruption of disgust. Objectively, he’s handsome. He is the great golden Captain America but you’ve seen the real him. You’ve seen his callousness, his cruelty. You have witnessed his delusion. You wonder if the serum did that too. 

The toast pops and you tear away just as his tongue pokes out. You grab the butter knife and take the lid off the container. You slide out a hot slice and spread the dairy across it. He sighs and looms close. 

“Anything else I can get?” He asks. 

“Just food. Lots of food,” you say as you shove a piece of toast in your mouth. “Mmm, ohmagrddddd.” 

“Alright, I’ll be back. Call me if you need anything.” 

“Sure,” you munch loudly.

Maybe that will keep him away. If you can make yourself as gross as possible, you won’t have to worry about him begging for kisses and touches. Right now, you don’t want anyone near you.