#boss!steve

[chloesimaginationthings]

I can’t believe FNAF movie Mike never got paid

[hawkinsbnbg]

O!Steve who ran away from his filthy rich parents after they tried to drug and force him into an arranged marriage with a man twice his dad's age.

During his time working at the night club as a bartender, he met Kas who was known to be the biggest fish around there. No one knew where the man came from, but one thing they could be 100% sure of was that Kas came from old money. The kind that could buy someone's life in a heartbeat.

Steve had been wary of Kas at first. All the rumors about Kas being ruthless and cold hearted was enough for him to keep his distance. He didn't need to get caught up in another lair of wolves when he'd just escaped one.

Even from afar, he could tell the man was an alpha. Six feet tall, sharp jawline, dark wild eyes, straight nose, and unkempt mane were his first impression of Kas. Against his better judgement, he couldn't help but watch Kas, observing, obsessing over every movement, every smile and smirk and grin that appeared on Kas' handsome face.

His little crush would've gone unnoticed if nothing happened.

But then one day, he was called to go serve a patron in the bar's private room.

"I'm not even a stripper!" He exclaimed in bewilderment.

"He asked for you," Billy said and leveled him with a serious look. "But if you don't want to do this job anymore, you can quit right now. Hand back your uniform and leave as you will."

Steve bit his lip until he tasted blood. He knew everything wasn't as simple. There were contracts and then the contractual indemnity that he could hardly afford in his current situation. Maybe if he was still a Harrington, which he hadn't been for a year now and he couldn't go back unless he wanted to be sent right into hell.

Billy smirked around the burning cigarette, icy blue eyes flashed smugly, and raised a brow at him.

Wordlessly, Steve sighed, squared his shoulders, and put on his game face before pushing the door to step inside.

"What can I do for you, sir?" He smiled, feeling how fake it was on his face, and tried to will his heart to stop jumping out of his chest because lounging on the couch was none other than Kas—his literal wet dream.

Since the lights in here were brighter than in the bar, he could see that Kas was wearing a black tank top with leather pants, combat boots that were left unlaced, chains and rings and silvers.

He gulped dryly at those tattooed corded arms that looked like they could crush his bones, at the thick thighs that were man spreading, at the intense gaze that focused on him. Although Kas was just sitting there—silent and still—Steve felt like he was preyed on by a lion.

And then there was Kas' scent. Apparently, this man didn't believe in the whole good manners go with good blockers, because the room was packed with earthy musk and sandalwood the second he entered the room and nearly knocked him off his feet.

Steve wasn't sure how long could he keep himself in check considering his panties were thoroughly slick and his pants were in a real danger of getting ruined.

"C'mere," Kas finally spoke, all lazy and laid back, but Steve wasn't fooled in the slightest.

When he stopped between those wide spread legs, his body was flushed with heat.

"Sit." Kas patted on his thigh and Steve, though complied, still let out an embarrassed noise as he straddled the alpha of his dream and felt a broad hand splay on his lower back to hold him secure.

While Steve was distracted by the toned muscles under his butt and how warm and big and good smelling Kas was, a ringed hand reached up to hold his chin and used it to tilted his head slightly, thumbing his split bottom lip gently.

"Who hurt you?"

Steve took in the heavy frown between Kas' brows, the grim line on Kas' mouth, the protectiveness that just oozed in waves from the older man, and felt his heart hiccup.

Oh no.

He blinked, and smiled his real smile despite knowing it was a bad idea.

"Me, sir."

Kas regarded him with an unreadable look, peeling off all of his layers and leaving him bare. It pinned Steve in place and for a brief mortifying second, he thought he was going into an early heat.

As if reading his mind, Kas released his chin and let that hand wandered down to his waist.

"Call me Eddie," the alpha said suddenly. "It's my real name. Eddie Munson."

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it. He knew Kas— no, Eddie was wealthy but the Munson? They weren't just rich, they were Rich. And they were also involved in a lot of shady businesses. Both from the government and the underworld. Which, as someone who didn't grew up in that kind of circle, Steve shouldn't know. But it was too late to pretend because his mask had slipped and Eddie had caught the flash of recognition on his face.

But instead of questioning his identity, Eddie just gazed at him softly and asked.

"Wanna go home with me?"

"I– What?" Steve stammered, nonplussed. "You mean–"

"Maybe when you're ready one day," Eddie said, which made him feel strangely disappointed. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'll give you anything as long as you ask nicely, alright?" He smiled and continued when Steve nodded. "What I meant is for you to quit your job at this place and come live with me. I'll provide you with everything you need. Money, clothes, jewelry, cars, houses, lands. Just name it and it'll be yours."

Steve was rightfully confused at this point. And also terribly turned on. Sue him. He had a Thing for men who treated him nicely, okay? And yeah, it sounded like a scam. No one had seen what Eddie Munson looked like before. The man always hid behind a mask and never had his photos taken by anyone who weren't from the Munson family.

But Steve was also pretty sure that he felt a rather deep connection with this alpha, and it didn't help that he was already obsessed with the sandalwood scent. And still, before he said yes, he blurted out his only burning question.

"Why me?"

Eddie leaned in and nosed at the hinge of his jaw.

"Because, my little darlin', we are scent mates."

[morganbritton132]

Eddie posts a Tiktok of Steve laying in bed. His eyes are shut and he has on one of those cooling gel eye masks. Eddie is zooming in and out on his face. He’s quiet for a second and then asks, “Steeeevie?”

Steve: I’m fine

Eddie: Do you have a headache?

Steve, for the hundredth time: No

Eddie, in a sing-song as he zooms in on the moles on Steve’s neck: I don’t believe you. This isn’t my first rodeo

Steve: You’ve never been to the fucking rodeo

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down Series (Mob/Art Dealer! Bucky)

James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down.

I, II,III, IV

V: …As Hard as I Did

VI: All I Know it Feels So Damn Good

VII: Dessert or Disaster?

VIII: You’ve Got Me Thinking

IX: Worth the Fall

X:Drabble: Bespoke

XI: Answer Love’s Call

XII: Drabble: Good Morning

XIII: Make It So

Read the Mob!Steve Rogers x Dancer!Reader Peach Fics

Read Everything In Order, Knock You Down and the Peach Fics.

I, II,III, IV

V: …As Hard as I Did

VI: All I Know it Feels So Damn Good

VII: Dessert or Disaster?

VIII: You’ve Got Me Thinking

Peach I, II, III

IX: Worth the Fall

Peach IV, V, VI,

X:Drabble: Bespoke

Peach VII 7.5

XI: Answer Love’s Call

Peach Ties That Bind

XII: Drabble: Good Morning

XIII: Make It So

Peach Show Off

[the-barefoot-hatter]

Check out the new guy!

[meidui]

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER (2014)

[thezombieprostitute]

Cherry Bomb

Summary: Mob Boss Steve's life gets a much needed dose of excitement when you move into his neighborhood.

A/N: Written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Mafia Bingo AU. Dedicated to @biteofcherry.

A/N2: Reader is female, on the shorter side. No other physical descriptors used.

Word Count: ~4.5k (new record!)

Warnings: Power imbalance, Smut, Violence (comedic, if that helps). Please let me know if I missed any!

The Mob life isn't all high stakes meetings and shootouts like it's portrayed as in the movies. In fact, as Steve can attest, most days are pretty boring. At least once you've established yourself like he has.

The businesses in his territory paid protection fees. He and his men kept the people safe. It was a good deal, in his eyes at least. His Family actually looked after their community, unlike many others in the surrounding territories. Ones that just took money and fed their power trips with fear.

But he has to admit, he's bored. He almost misses the early days where he always had to be on alert. When there was a fight every other day. When he still had to work for what he now has.

Expansion has been tempting, but he doesn't have the manpower to do so and keep his current territory secure. He might be profiting from the situation but he does take the security and well-being of his territory seriously.

His boredom was such that, when he learned a new business was opening, a gardening store and nursery, he was tempted to introduce the owner to the safety payment system himself. But it wouldn't be a good look for the man in charge to do the work of foot soldiers. Instead he sent Jake and Curtis who had almost mastered the carrot/stick approach.

To say he was surprised when they returned empty handed and injured would be an understatement.

"What the hell happened to you?" he exclaims.

"New store owner is a fucking firecracker," Curtis grunts as his arm gets stitched up.

"We told her why we there and she just exploded on us," Jake said through sniffles. "There was so much pollen! I still can't breathe through my nose."

"Tried to use force and next thing I know I'm keeping my face from getting hit by a trowel," Curtis added. "She was just smacking me with it, but those corners caught me in a few places."

"We opted for a tactical retreat," Jake continues after blowing his nose into another tissue.

Bucky snorts. "She kicked your asses."

"She had the element of surprise," Curtis argues.

"Well now she doesn't," Steve interjects. "Curtis and Jake, you're out so you can heal up, maybe get some antihistamines. Bucky, since you're so eager to insult these two, you go and show them how it's done."

"Not a problem," Bucky smirks.

Less than an hour later Bucky storms in, smirk gone, scratches along his face, favoring his right leg.

"She got you, too," Curtis snorted.

"How did she get you?" Steve asks, aghast that his best man was so hurt and yet empty handed.

"Cherry bomb," Bucky grunts. "Played so sweet and soft but the second I got close, she exploded. Kicked my shin while wearing steel toe boots. I managed not to lose my footing but I dropped my face just low enough that she SMACKED ME WITH A CACTUS! REPEATEDLY!"

Curtis nods. "She's got a hell of an arm."

Bucky glares at Curtis. "The bitch smacked my ass with the damn thing!"

Curtis starts laughing and Steve steps between the two men to prevent a fight.

"You go get patched up," he orders. "Make sure you're not going to get an infection or something from a cactus needle. I'll go ahead and take care of this myself."

"Sure you're up for it?" Jake asks, nose mostly still stuffed from the pollen. "You haven't been in the field for a while."

"That's what will make it even more impressive when I get my payment," Steve asserts, fixing his tie, before heading out.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you clean up the mess from the last asshole trying to get "protection money". You'd hoped you were done with that when you got out of Rumlow's territory. You'd heard things were better here. Well, given how easily you were able to fight off those men, maybe it was better for those who could fight. And you weren't one to give in easy.

The bell above the door rings and you look up, disappointed to see another suit instead of a customer. At least the guy makes the suit look good. He's a lot bigger than the other guys, his golden hair and beard giving him an almost lion like mane. His demeanor isn't cocky like the last guy. His movements are smoother than the first two, like he's got better control over his every muscle. And you can imagine there's quite a bit of muscle under that suit. It's a shame you'll have to ruin that suit and scratch up that handsome face.

"Hi there," he says with a smile. "I'm Steve Rogers, the man in charge of this neighborhood."

That comment makes you roll your eyes. "From where I'm standing, you're not in charge of anything." You expect rage, but instead, he laughs.

"I want to thank you. Less than a week and you've already caused more disruptions than we've had in over a year."

"I caused nothing," you counter, hoping to hide how weak-kneed his voice makes you. "You and yours caused it by demanding money for nothing. They should count themselves lucky I didn't spray them with repellent."

"It isn't nothing," he claims. "We actually do help our people."

You snort. "Sure, that's what all you mob wannabes say. Keeping us safe from actually bad people who'd bring in drugs and guns. Blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile you're stealing my money that would be better spent on protecting my plants from spider-mites and sciaridare."

"How much are you spending?" You tell him the amount and his eyebrows rise as he considers. Pulling out his phone he dials a number, "Jensen, I need you to get in touch with Turner. See if he's willing to share some of his pesticides and whatnot from his nursery."

He hangs up the phone and looks at you. "You'd be paying a lot less for the stuff."

"But I'd still be paying you," you grumble. "How does that save me money?"

"I'm not charging you the difference," he replies.

"I'm still not interested in paying you anything. You can get me a small discount on the good stuff? That's not enough for me." You cross your arms and turn your nose up at him.

"It'll also help the community you've set yourself up in," he shrugs. "The parks? The food bank? You'll be helping out the people around you as well."

"That's what taxes are for!"

"That's what they're supposed to be for," he argues. "But we know that isn't how it tends to work."

You huff and he steps closer to you. He somehow manages to be intimidating while also not invading your personal space. Your mind, again, goes to the image of the muscles he's likely working with under that suit.

"I still don't think I should have to pay so you can wear expensive suits and eat at fancy restaurants," you gripe. "You're profiting off of everyone in the area and telling us we're helping each other out!"

"So your saying if I was wearing say, a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants you'd be more willing to work with me?" Steve smirks as he sees your eyes go soft and you almost biting your lip at the mental image he gave you.

He's still smirking when you shake your head and glare at him. The fact that you're obviously attracted to him and he's toying with you throws you into a rage.

"Get out of my store!" you yell, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it at him.

He dodges it easily, but his smirk drops and he closes the gap between you. "Do you really wanna do this, Cherry Bomb?" he almost growls as he firmly grips your chin.

Instead of answering him, you break from his grasp and move to bite his fingers but, again, he's able to dodge. You go for a kick and he moves out of the way while pulling on you so you almost fall on your ass. He catches you before you hit the cement flooring, but you're thrown off kilter.

Using his size advantage he pushes your back against a nearby table and pins your hands down at your sides.

"You can either agree to pay, or bad things will happen to---"

In your desperation for an opening, you try to surprise him with a kiss. Instead of him being shocked and loosening his grip like you expected, he returns the kiss with a passion. You can't help the stop the small moan you let out and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. When was the last time you'd been kissed with such fire?

He pulls away and you whine. He's still got a firm grip on your arms, keeping you pinned.

"You taste like cherry," he growls, licking his lips. You try to keep fighting but he's too strong. "Haven't had a kiss like that in ages."

"It wasn't that good," you snipe.

"I was talking about myself, but I guess it's been a while for you, too," he chuckles.

Heat rushes to your face at your slip up and you move to kick him, headbutt him, anything. Instead, he does similar to before where he uses your own force against you. And, again, he's the only think that keeps you from face planting onto the cement floor. He ends up getting you into a hold from behind, one of his thick arms around your torso, the other around your neck, pushing your head into his chest. He's got you close to a wall so you can't get enough force to really kick him. You try kicking and pushing off the wall but he stays stead.

"That's it," he coos. "Get it out of your system so we can talk like mature adults and not a tantrum throwing brat."

"The second you let me go I'm biting your face off!"

"Then I guess I'm never letting you go," he chuckles. "But I don't think you mind being held like this."

You respond with a growl but it's only half-hearted. Your estimation of what he's hiding under his suit feels accurate now that you're pressed up against him. His arms are holding you so tight you can't break free. He's steady enough on his feet you can't even use leverage from the wall against him. If you'd met him in a different way you'd be incredibly turned on.

Not to say you aren't turned on now. Your body is betraying you; nipples hard, pussy wet. It's not fair! Why does he have to be everything you've been craving?

Slowly you're able to get yourself under control. Steve feels your body relax in his hold and he knows he should let go but part of him doesn't want to. Well, a few parts of him don't want to. Your body feels so good pressed against him. Your fiery nature is exactly the kick he's been craving. But he's not one to take a woman against her will and he needs to talk business with you so he slowly, warily loosens his hold.

"Shall we go to your office? Somewhere with a lot fewer sharp objects within arm's reach?" he suggests, only half joking.

You stomp in the direction of your office with a huff while Steve follows. You eye some of the sharper utensils, some of the repellents you can use instead of pepper spray but you know he's watching you. So far he's been able to thwart your every move. But your office is small enough his larger size could be a disadvantage. You'll wait for the right moment.

Once inside the office, you promptly sit down in your comfy chair, forcing Steve to sit on the much smaller one. To your frustration, he makes no indication as to being bothered by it.

"So, you wanna talk like adults?" you snip at him.

"Best way to do business, don't you think?" He smirks at you and it only grows when he sees the frustration written all over your face.

"Extortion isn't a business," you argue.

"And yet, here we are."

"I still don't see the point of this. There's nothing you could give me that I can't do on my own."

"We're keeping Rumlow's men from following you." Your eyes widen a bit at that. "My men caught some of his foot soldiers monitoring the place. Turns out, Rumlow didn't take to kindly to the goodbye message you left for him. Personally, i think the fertilizer dumped all over his car to hide the sugar in the gas tank wasn't a bad idea. Well timed on your part, too."

"Yeah, well, I doubt your men can actually handle his. I fought off three of them alone today!"

"That's because they're under strict orders to not hurt the residents. Not without permission from me, anyways. Rumlow's men they're more than happy to hurt."

"I still have my doubts. Especially about the price of the protection."

"Protection comes with many benefits," Steve assures. "Not just the pesticide pricing, either."

"Such as?"

"Actually getting customers." Steve grinned as you were unable to hide your frustration at his words. "People in our territory support each other. You're not supported by us? You're not supported by them."

"You bastard! I'm trying to run a business and you're charging me to even get a customer?!"

"I don't tell people where to do their shopping," he objects. "It's just that the people around here prefer to buy from others under our protection."

"This is such a scam!"

"And yet, you moved here because this territory is the safest, the nicest and best for business." You cross your arms and try not to make eye contact. You know he's right, but that doesn't mean you have to be happy about it.

"So how much are we talking?" He says the amount and you give him a confused look. "You mean per week or something, right?"

"Per month," he assures. "I might be making a profit, able to wear fancy suits, but that's because I'm good with money. Not because I try to squeeze blood from a stone."

"Well I still think I can get a better deal!" you insist, not believing yourself.

He raises an eyebrow, "do tell."

"Fine, I just want a better deal where I don't have to pay you a dime!"

He considers you for a minute, slowly licking his lips. "I suppose I might be open to alternative forms of payment."

"Perv!"

"Says the woman who's been eye-fucking me since I walked in. I bet you enjoyed being manhandled, being pinned against me." He leans forward so his elbows are on the desk. "I bet your wet at the thought of me using you like a whore."

"Do you offer 'such a deal' with all the business owners in your territory?" you sneer.

"Just the ones that attract me. So just you."

That gets your attention. "Must be a long time since you've gotten laid if you're going after me."

He shrugs. "It has been a while. But it's also been even longer since I met someone so interesting."

"You want to break me," you accuse.

Steve's face turns serious at that. "I admire that fire in you. I'll never try to snuff it out. I've been craving that kind of energy so I'm inclined to encourage it, not cut it off or use it up."

"And how do you know I'm not just getting you to lower your guard so I can stab you?"

"I don't. That's half the fun." He backs away from you and stands up. "But if you're not interested, you're not interested. You don't want the protection? You don't get the customers. Maybe some of Rumlow's men make it to you."

"You're not giving me a real choice, here!"

"Pay up, and you don't have to worry about any of that. Plus, other benefits. How you pay is up to you."

"I'd be better off just giving you money," you snipe. "You're probably a two-pump chump, anyways."

He considers you for a moment, not giving you the rage filled response you were hoping for. "Either way," he replies nonchalantly before turning to head out of your office.

"Get that gorgeous ass back here!" you shout as you get up from your chair. He turns back towards you and lets you pull his tie to bring his face down to your level. You want to bite, smack, kick, anything. Instead you kiss him again.

Again, he returns the kiss with fervor, pushing you back against your desk. Your on your back and he's pinned your hands against the desk. But instead of continuing like you want him to, he breaks the kiss, making you whine and try to kick.

"Use your words, Cherry Bomb," he growls. "I need to hear you say it, or else I'm walking out of here."

"Fuck me," you mutter under your breath.

"What was that?" he teases.

"Fuck me like you mean it!"

His lips return to yours and you melt into him. One of his feet pushes your legs apart and his hips meet yours. You start trying to grind against him, desperate for release after all of the teasing he's put you through. One of his hands is all he needs to keep your arms pinned above your head. His other hand goes for the buttons of your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he's got you unbuttoned. He pulls his hips away just enough to start pushing his hand under your panties.

He smiles when he feels how wet you are already. "I guess I was right about you."

"Don't flatter yours---" your snipe cut off by another kiss.

You start rolling your hips against his hand but he pulls it away. He breaks the kiss and shoves his fingers into your mouth.

"Suck my fingers," he orders. He's barely gotten the words out before your obeying. "Good girl."

When he's satisfied with your work he lifts you off the desk and lifts up your shirt and bra, exposing your breasts. You're then forced back onto your back and he alternates sucking and biting one nipple while his fingers play with the other one. If you thought his kisses were good, it's clear he knows how to use his tongue in other ways. He switches breasts and you start rolling your hips and moaning.

"Already so worked up," he teases. "And I've barely gotten started."

"Just get to the good stuff already," you gripe.

Steve stops and wraps one of his hands around your neck. "Does my little brat just need some good, hard dick? I was going to be nice and make sure you cum at least once, make it easier to take my cock. But now I'm not so sure."

Just like with your shirt, he pulls you up, pushes down your jeans and panties, and has you back on the desk before you've fully registered what happened.

He shoves two fingers inside your pussy and you squeal from the sensation.

"This pussy is so tight. I'm gonna enjoy wrecking you," he taunts.

"Big words," you spit back at him. "Bet you can't back them up."

"Well if you're going to continue being a brat, I'm going to have to treat you like one."

Steve pulls you up as he sits down on the little chair. He throws you across his lap and shoves the fingers that were in your pussy into your mouth.

"You're going to keep sucking on those fingers until I tell you to stop," he orders.

You're tempted to call his bluff but then his other hand comes down hard on your ass. Your eyes widen in pain and pleasure. Your tongue starts working his fingers as if possessed. He spanks you again and you moan around his fingers. He starts pushing his fingers further into your mouth before pulling back a little, then pushing in again. You keep your tongue moving, breathing through your nose. He brings his other hand down again and again, your moans getting louder.

You lose track of how many times he smacks your ass. You're no longer trying to fight him. All of your brain power is just focused on rolling your hips, whining around his fingers, begging him to give you what you need.

"Is my little Cherry Bomb ready to behave?" he coos, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

"Please...Please fuck my pussy, Sir. Please, I need it!" you gasp.

He grips your chin and turns your face towards him. "How can I possibly say no to such a polite request?"

His hand goes from your chin to your throat as he stands you up and moves you back to the desk. He gets you on the desk and moves your legs so your ankles are up by his face.

He unzips and lets out a little sigh of relief. "Don't know how hard I've been this whole time, Cherry Bomb." He pulls his erection out of his pants and your eyes widen a little. "You've been working me up all this time and I've had to hold back." He starts rubbing his cock against your clit, making you whine. "All those pretty noises, that fiery attitude, that gorgeous body. A man can only take so much."

He picks up speed and you try to spread your legs a little more, giving him better access to your clit. Instead he grabs your legs and stops moving, making you let out a "no!"

"You will keep these legs where I put them," he orders. Your eyes flash in anger and frustration but you obey, making him grin. "Good girl."

He lines his erection up with your entrance and pushes into you. He wants to sheath himself in one quick thrust but he knows he can be a lot so he opts for a slower push. Besides, watching your facial expressions as you adjust to him, as you realize he's not all the way in yet, is so much fun. The noises you make as your body isn't sure if it should be feeling pleasure or pain are music to his ears. He could easily get addicted to you.

When he's fully inside you, he lets out a groan. Your pussy is clenching him like a vise and he doesn't want to cum so quickly. Definitely not before he's got you screaming his name in pleasure.

"You feel so good," he praises. He reaches his hand down to your pearl. "Let's get you creaming around my cock like a good slut."

He sets a rapid pace for playing with your clit as he slowly rolls his hips. The juxtaposition makes you want to squirm but remembering his orders about keeping your legs where he put them, you instead whimper. Frustration building as it feels like your orgasm wants to build but can't.

"What's the matter, beautiful?" he purrs.

"N-n-need more," you sniffle.

"More what?"

"M-more!"

"Use your words."

"Faster! More! Just fuck me like I need it, please!"

"I'm going to need you to tell me now, do you want me to cum inside you or pull out?" He hisses as he feels you clench around him at the thought of him cumming inside you.

"Inside! Please, Sir! Please!"

He chuckles darkly as he moves your legs so they're pushed against your chest. "I knew you were going to be good for me," he whispers with gentle kisses to your knees.

Steve pulls out of you and lines himself up again. This time he fulfills his desire and quickly thrusts himself fully inside of you, making you keen. He pistons into you at a furious pace and you find yourself writhing in pleasure.

"This pussy feels like heaven," he whispers hoarsely. "And you want me to fill you up like my own personal cum slut, don't you?"

"Y-yes!"

"Yes, what?" His hand moves between your bodies and finds your clit.

"Yes, Sir! Yes! I'm your personal cum slut!" you screech. "Please! Please fill me up, Sir!"

The pressure finally snaps and you feel like you're drowning in pleasure, unable to even tell which way is up. Your eyes roll back and you miss seeing Steve grimace as he tries to control his own orgasm while enjoying the way your pussy spasms around his erection. He praises you as you start coming down, but his pace doesn't slow.

"Give me another, beautiful," he orders.

"I-I can't!"

"I think you can," he argues. "You just need some more."

That's all the warning you get before he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach. He lifts your hips and impales you onto his cock. You cry out as the new position makes you feel, somehow, even more full than before. He wraps a hand around your throat and brings your torso up so you're pressed against him. He rolls his hips tentatively and you let out a gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

"Oh, you like that?" he teases, rolling his hips again, making you whimper. "My beautiful cum slut just needed the right motivation to cum again."

With that he picks up his pace, repeatedly brushing up against that same spot making you writhe in his arms, chanting "please, please, please".

"I'm going to cum inside you and mark this beautiful pussy as mine," he growls in your ear. "You're going to cum again, get those pussy juices all over these fancy clothes, and everyone will know your my slut."

Between his dirty, possessive words and hitting all the right spots, you come apart. You cry out as your orgasm hits you, tears pouring down your face. You feel Steve stiffen as he cums with a groan and push your hips back into him, wanting to catch every drop.

You collapse into Steve and he guides you so that he's holding you in your office chair. He gently pats your head, praising you, giving you small kisses. Your curl into his touch and he holds you tight for a few minutes.

"Should get you cleaned up," he whispers.

"Bathroom over there," you mumble, gesturing in the general direction of the unisex bathroom. Steve picks you up and carries you there, looking around to make sure the two of you were alone.

He gets you cleaned up, being very gentle with you.

"What else do you need, Cherry Bomb?"

"Can you hold me for a while more?"

"Gladly." He picks you up and carries you back to your office, helping you get dressed again, before returning to your chair for snuggles. You nuzzle against him and soon fall asleep.

While you slept, Steve texted to his people that the two of you had come to an agreement and you were to be considered paid up. There were going to be some long conversations with his men after this, he knew. But when he looked at you, he knew you'd be worth it. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, his smile growing when you gave a little happy murmur.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[simmerandwrite]

sink into me (masterlist)

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate. Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Warnings: angst, canon level violence, gun violence, allusions to dog fighting, smut

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06  07 08 09

--

Extras:

Grapefruit Sidecar

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader x mob! Bucky Barnes Summary: It was just an innocent question. You definitely didn't have any ulterior motives: “Have you ever had a threesome?” But when Steve admits something from his past with Bucky, you can't help but wonder...

Part 1: The Club | Part 2: The Penthouse

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Mr. Rogers’ office. This is Rosie, how can I hel--” 

“Where is he?” Peggy’s voice cuts over your own. 

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s currently in a meeting--” 

“Get him.” 

“Mrs.--” 

“Don’t argue with me. Go get him. Are you not his assistant?” She challenges brusquely. 

Her accent adds to the sharpness of her words. Her curt demeanour is a stark contrast to her husband. Your boss is always amiable, accommodating even, but the few times you’ve dealt with his wife have been similarly tense. You put a smile on so she can’t hear your anxiety. 

“Of course, Mrs. Rogers,” you preen, “I’ll put you on a quick hold.” 

“No, you will get him. No hold.” 

You suck in a sigh and hold your breath in your chest, “of course.” 

You set the phone down. You don’t see how her hearing your desktop will be any better but you wouldn’t want to irritate her further. It must be urgent. 

You stand and smooth out your dress. You step out from behind your desk, digging your nails into your palms as you ball your fists tight. You get nervous about most things. Answering the phone took your months to get used to and even now you tend to fumble over your words. 

You go to the door and brace yourself. You don’t know why you expect Mr. Rogers to be upset. He’s never been anything close to rude. Maybe short in times of stress but not unpleasant. You knock and wait as you twiddle your fingers against your striped pleats. 

It isn’t Mr. Rogers who answers by Mr. Barnes. You give a sheepish smile, “excuse me, doll.” 

He steps past you and you bid him a good day. He leaves without further courtesy and Mr. Rogers calls your name from within, “need something?” He asks. 

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Rogers is on the phone.” 

He doesn’t seem happy about that. His cheek dimples and he nods, wiggling his pen at you, “patch her through.” 

You go back to your desk and pick up the receiver, “hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s available now--” 

“I don’t want to talk to you, honey. Where is my husband?” 

You transfer her without another word. Phew. You almost feel bad for your boss as you hear him pick up in his office. His tone is low and dull. 

You try not to overhear, letting his conversation drone into a buzz. There’s enough work to be done without worrying about his personal life. Your own afterhours concerns are more than concerning. You wouldn’t say you have much going on and that’s the problem. It’s moment like those that ease your envy of others’ full plates. 

You haven’t seen the girls lately. The group chat’s been quiet but you suppose you could go ahead and say hi. Your weekly cocktails petered out to biweekly, then monthly, and now you can’t remember the last time you let go with a mimosa. 

You peek over your desk and back at your screen. It’s not only on them to keep things going. You pick up your phone and open the chat. The last message is a meme Elfie sent about printers. You shake your head and send a little waving sticker, keying in a message. 

‘Long time no see! I’m in need of drinks. Anyone free? When’s best? Hope you’re all taking care.’ 

You’re professional tone shines through even on WhatsApp. It’s a bit lame but you’re an entirely different person in text. Most people are surprised to meet the mousy secretary hiding behind her screen after the lively back and forth in Outlook. 

You set your phone down and try not to stare at it. A reply never comes while you’re waiting for it, nor does water boil when you’re watching it. As you click around and try to remember where you were, the silence sinks in. Your realisation brings your eyes up as quickly as Mr. Rogers shadow. 

You bat your lashes at him in surprise, “need something, sir?” 

He gives a half-smile, the type weighed down by disappointment. He sighs and crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame, “you hungry?” 

“Um, well, it’s only eleven,” you shrug. 

“Mm, yeah,” he unfolds one arm to rub his neck, “I’m restless. You feel like getting lunch early?” 

“Sure, I can run out and grab you something,” you stand eagerly. 

“No, uh,” he drops his arm back over his other, “together. I had a reservation for me and Peggy but she canceled. I’d hate to inconvenience the restaurant and I just can’t sit and mope in my office.” 

“Oh, okay, I guess that works...” 

“Do you need to ask your boss?” He scoffs. 

You laugh at his joke, “do I?” 

He smiles, a real smile and drops his arms, “my treat. You know what, you earned it. You work so hard around here, a little employee appreciation is overdue.” 

“That’s so nice,” you chime, “uh, sir, I... I should leave an away message, should I?” 

“Oh, who cares, come on.” 

“Well, I mean...” 

“Ah, I get it, boss is a real hard ass,” he winks. 

“Sir,” you giggle nervously and teethe your lip. He watches your mouth. 

“You can catch up later. Come on, I haven’t played hooky in years.” 

“Hooky?” You stammer. 

He laughs, “a goody two shoes. It’s why I hired you but it’s okay to let loose once in a while.” 

“I know, Mr. Rogers, it’s just... it’s work.” 

“Too much of it and you’ll turn into me,” he huffs. “Please, I’m sure your husband would hate if you were never home. Never answered the phone.” 

“If I had one, probably,” you blurt out then look away shyly. 

“Really? I thought...” he begins and shakes his head, “doesn’t matter. I’ll grab my jacket and we’ll go. I missed breakfast.” 

“Um, sure, sir,” you agree and put your hand on the phone. 

When he turns, you look down. Missie sent a reply; ‘please, drinks are required!’ Ooh! Yay. 

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Bosses AU

The Devil Wears Armani | Tony Stark

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5 💼 6 💼 7

Office Space | Nick Fowler & Jonathan Pine

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5 💼 6 💼7

Monster, Inc. | Lloyd Hansen

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5 💼 6 💼 7

Code of Conduct | Steve Rogers

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5 💼 6

Backburner | Sam Wilson

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5 💼 6

Paradigm Shift | Bucky Barnes & Loki

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5 💼 6

Unorthodox | Captain Syverson

1 💼 2 💼 3 💼 4 💼 5 💼 6

Continuity Error | Thor

1 💼 2

[huffelpuff210]

Your Mine now

Mob Boss Bucky Barnes X reader Summary: You have been good friends with Bucky and Steve for years what happens when you turn up out of the blue. Warning: Blood, Violence, swearing

This is a prompt, My first attempt

you knew you were in to deep, you knew you should’ve listened to Bucky, your boyfriend of two years was an asshole in Bucky’s eyes none of his men including Steve didn’t like him, he was rude, disrespectful and couldn’t hold a job to save his life. But tonight he went to far, you refused to give him money, you were done supporting him, and he didn’t take it well, he beat the shit out of you, Bucky had offered to teach you self defense but you told him you were not a fighter everyone knew that.

you were only nineteen sure there was a major age gap but you were all friends none the less, when you all met you were only a kid, being bullied and picked on, Bucky and Steve didn’t hesitate to put the much bigger bully in his place everyone knew who they were and were terrified of them, except for you, you thanked them giving them a big toothy smile and that was the start of your friendship,

You called at least one of them daily but your boyfriend Eric didn’t like it, you told him there was nothing between the two of you that you were just friends, But he was always accusing you of cheating with Bucky or sneaking around it was downright exhausting. It was eleven thirty at night you knew Bucky would still be awake hopefully, You were in a cab looking at your reflection in the window, your face looked mangled, blood covered your face, the bruising was just starting to form, your left eye was swelling.

You looked down at your phone seeing the bunch of messages yelling calling you every name in the book, The cab driver stops just outside of the gates a bit too hesitant, You dig in your pocket for the money but he holds his hand out,

“N-No charge.” He says

You look at him he was terrified this doesn’t surprise you most people are always terrified of this place. You just nod getting out of the car, the cab speeds off like he was being chased you just shake your head and limp up to the doorstep, You take a deep breath just as you were about to knock the door swung opne and you were met with a gun in your face.

“Whoa Sam it’s me!” You say with your hands up

“Jesus Y/N” Sam says lowering his weapon

Sam looks at you seeing your condition,

“What the hell happened?” He asked in shock

You follow him into the house, you sit on the couch he sits next to you, He pours some whiskey in a cup seeing that your nerves are bad, “Here this will help.” He hands you the drink, you nod “I’ll go wake him.” He says “Wait if he’s asleep don’t wake him.” You say your head handing low, “Too late.” Bucky’s deep gruff voice sending shivers up your spine, you don’t look up you just couldn’t meet his eyes. you were not scared of him no, you were just afraid to let him see you in this way

“Doll?” Bucky says you can hear him approach you,

“Sam leave us the room would you” Bucky’s voice comes out rough You hear Sam leave the room, Your hands were still shaking with the glass in your hands

“Doll talk you me,” He says taking the drink from your hands you feel a tear fall down your cheek

“James I need your help..” You say finally looking up at him His eyes scrunch you could he was pissed

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” He says shooting up from the couch

“James, Don’t.” You say grabbing his wrist

“I don’t fucking care he touched you, No scratch that he hurt you.” He says you only now notice that he’s in sweatpants and no shirt….. his muscles bludging… and.. you shake your head

“No one touches you no one! that was perfectly clear only someone looking for a death wish or is a moron!” He says pacing back and forth, you’ve seen him heated many times but not to this extent

“James… I Just need someone to help me get my things.” You say his head snaps in your direction.

“The hell your going back there,” He walks towards you

“First we need to get Bruce to check you out.” He says helping you up

You were now sitting in a private room, On an examination table as Bruce shows the xrays, He cleaned up your face, you have bruising, butterfly, stitches, you had a fractured cheek bone, You have six broken ribs, every injury that is listed Bucky would almost growl, Steve also with,

“Thank you Bruce.” Bucky says with almost a growl,

“Give us a minute doll.” Bucky says him and Steve walk out of the room,

“Steve I need you to-” He began

“Don’t worry I’ll handle it.” Steve says about to leave

“And Steve… I want him alive… I’m gonna teach him what happens when someone touches what’s mine.” He says his back to Steve watching you though the window as Bruce hands you some pain pills you smile thanking him

“I’ll take care of it.” Steve says clearly pissed

Bucky enters the room,

“Lets go doll,” Bucky says

You nod about to get off the table but Bucky scoops you up in his arms,

“B-Bucky, I can walk.” You say obviously flustered

“You need rest, and I know you can walk but I’m not taking any chances.” He says

It was no secret that Bucky was madly in love with you but you were completely oblivious to it, but his men knew how he felt the way his eyes lingered on you when you were not paying attention, how he could pick you out in a crowed, how he watched you like a hawk when too many men were around, He was completely under your spell.

<3 <3 <3

He sat you on his bed in his bedroom, you look up at him though your eyelashes,

His hand gently cups your cheek a motion he’s never done before, you could tell something was on his mind but he was holding back, You place your hand on top of his,

“James what is it?” You asked you are the only one allowed to call him that and when you do it is out of concern or angery

“I am never letting you out of my sight again.” He says pressing his forehead against yours

His icy blue eyes looking directly into your green eyes,

“I’ve restrained myself long enough tonight was the final straw.” He says with a growl,

You were about to ask him what in the world he was talking about when his lips connected with yours, the kiss was so passionate, you felt like you could get lost in it, your hands running through his hair, He growled at the action, He seperated the kiss

“You are mine now doll.” He says smirking

“I’m okay with that.” You say your heart beating a mile a minute

[gallade-x-treme]

hell hath no fury like a homeowner scorned ゴゴゴゴ

[hawkinsbnbg]

O!Steve who had been married off to an old wealthy man because of his parents’ ambition to climb the social ladder.

He would’ve resigned himself to his fate had Henry not cheated on him constantly and abused him day in and day out.

He got bruises that could be covered easily by clothes. But sometimes, when things went really bad, he had to use concealers to hide the reds and purples on his face and neck, not for the first time wishing they were love marks instead.

For years, he endured the mistreatments until one day, he met Eddie Munson—a charming alpha who was also his husband’s longtime foe—and decided to take out the source of his suffering for good by switching sides.

Still, Steve never expected to earn himself a feral guard dog who would do anything for him at all costs.

On the day of Henry’s funeral, Eddie had proposed to him right on his husband’s grave with a diamond ring and bouquet of roses.

“Marry me, my black widow,” Eddie pressed a kiss on the back of his hand, gloved in florals and black lace.

No one dared to breathe a word because they knew Eddie was the one who had taken care of Henry Creel.

When someone pointed out that it was Steve’s scheme, Eddie had made sure to zip their mouth up forever.

All because Steve had said they were annoying.

Later, while waiting for Eddie’s knot to deflate, Steve wrapped his hand around the alpha’s throat with a raised eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t you be wary of what I might do to you, Mr. Munson?”

Eddie just smiled, eyes dark and sharp. “I’m yours, sweetheart. Do use me however you desire.”

“Oh? And on what conditions?” Steve tightened his grasp, not delusional enough to be fooled by those honeyed words.

Eddie leaned closer and whispered against his lips. “Don’t ever dream of leaving, my darlin’, ‘cause we’ll be together even in death.”

And Steve knew he was knee-deep in trouble when he heard his inner omega purr in joy.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie’s live-streaming while he paints a miniature. In the background, Steve is telling Robin everything that happened with their neighbor, Dan, and Ozzy’s swimming pool.

Robin: Wow, that guy sucks

Robin: You want me kill him for you? Because I’ll definitely kill him for you

Steve: Robbie

Steve: If I wanted someone to kill him, I’d ask a professional

Steve: Like Nancy

[ramp-it-up]

Show Off

Ties That Bind | Next Part

Summary: Steve likes to show you off.

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Dancer!Reader (Peach); Ari Levinson x Reader

A/N: This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes fic Make It So in the Knock You Down AU, and comes after the events in Ties That Bind and the Bucky fic Make It So. Interaction is life! Let me know if you like it by commenting & reblogging. This is inspired by @avengers-assemble-bingo. #KinkyBingo. This fulfills the square: Exhibitionism. Also, @fenixstar asked for it. 😘

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Ari Levinson (he's a warning), Jealous, possessive Steve, hints of violent Steve, exhibitionism kink (sex in public), marking, fingering, raw p in v, praise kink, rough sex, creampie.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

The party was elegant as hell, the kind of event where art changed hands over $30,000 bottles of wine and million-dollar glances.

Jazz curled through the air amid the sounds of laughter, clinking glassware, and whispered secrets.

Security was present, but invisible. Steve and Bucky had seen to it.

You and your cousin were due a night out after all that happened, but there would be no risk of danger for you two, at least not the physical kind.

You were watching your cousin be wooed by Bucky, who already had his ring on her finger, but was whispering Romanian in her ear like he’d just fallen in love. You knew that he was going to get what he wanted when she and Bucky left the function early.

She deserved. 

You were low key bored, but you were dressed for excitement and intrigue.

Your gown was decadent. It was made of rich, heavy fabric that glimmered in the light with a back that dipped scandalously low.

The skirt revealed a slit that dared anyone to look, and most did. The neckline framed your collarbones like art, but it was your legs and ass that made the room lose its mind. 

Those body parts once earned you money under neon lights and mirrored ceilings; your thigh spins damn near caused heart attacks back at Regine.

Hell, Steve even built you a studio in the penthouse so he could get private lap dances you could continue to practice your craft.

You were unapologetically lethal in the dress and heels, and your confidence was all you. Steve had zipped the dress for you that evening. And when he did, his fingers ghosted down your spine. 

“You’re gonna kill me in this, Peach.”

His deep voice was even deeper when he whispered that to you, but you two still managed to make it out of the penthouse.

From the moment you arrived at the event, Steve hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

His drink was untouched.

His jaw was tight.

And every time you laughed, his fingers twitched around the crystal.

It wasn’t jealousy.

It was worship.

Hunger, just barely contained by discipline.

He was well aware that both men and women sometimes forgot themselves around you. 

Steve said it was because of your beauty, but you insisted it was your confidence. 

And your crazy. You never tried to steal the spotlight; it just happened that you were the spotlight.

It was why he fell in love with you at first sight at that strip club in Atlanta. He just had to get your attention. And he’d been successful. 

Steve loved your wild side. But that didn’t mean he liked seeing other people get ideas. 

Especially men like Ari Levinson.

Steve saw the moment Levinson spotted you. Recognized the exact second the art collector clocked your legs, your ass, your presence, your smile.

Steve had seen that look before, on men who wanted to buy what they couldn’t afford.

You felt Steve’s stare before you saw it, a promise and a threat, all wrapped in one look.

And it occurred precisely when Ari Levinson appeared.

-----

Ari had never walked into a room and lost track of every million-dollar painting on the walls just because of a woman.

But then he saw you, absolutely stunning and unimpressed by your surroundings.

Just like a great work of art.

Ari licked his lips slowly, taking you in like a man who had acquired beauty for a living and just found something rare. He didn't know who you were, but he knew he had to find out.

Your legs deserved a warning sign. That ass was perfection. And your mouth... it looked like it screamed prayers into satin sheets effective enough to make the most notorious sinner ascend to heaven.

Ari's cock twitched when you turned your head and caught him staring.

You knew exactly what he was thinking.

He adjusted the cuff of his jacket, let himself drift toward you like a man casually approaching something he didn’t already have plans to devour.

Ari wanted you. Bad. And he didn’t give a damn that you wore a ring. Or whose ring you wore.

Lots of people wore rings, but not everyone wore them well.

He guessed that whoever gave you that ring was probably under your spell.

Ari could give a damn who it was.

-----

Steve wasn’t the kind of man who made scenes anymore.

That part of his life, the rough edges, the quiet threats, the kind of acts that made people disappear, was behind him.

These days, he wore custom suits, drank old wine, and spoke in carefully measured words. His world was oil on canvas, not blood on pavement.

But some instincts didn’t die.

Steve watched Ari make his move toward you and bided his time, not wanting to make too much of a scene too soon. He was the former gangster, but you were dangerous in your own way.

Memories of your threat to shoot his balls off made Steve smile and watch the show.

—-----

“You’re not part of the installation, are you?”

It was an opening line that usually always worked, especially in Ari’s voice, the kind that usually had people ready to fall to their knees for him. 

But you weren’t just anyone. You were Steve Rogers' wife.

Levinson looked at you like you were a masterpiece that had just caught him off-guard. And he had no idea that the vitamin D that Steve prescribed every day gave you immunity to him.

“...Because I swear, you look like the centerpiece of the whole night.”

You sipped your champagne and smiled, slightly amused at his line. But mostly annoyed. You played along.

“And what kind of art would I be, Mr. Levinson?”

“The kind that gets stolen,” he said, his voice dipping, “and starts wars.”

He stepped closer. You didn’t move back. You didn’t need to.

“You used to dance,” he added, more sure now. “Didn’t you?”

You tilted your head, wondering if he were trying to take liberties because of the kind of dance you used to do.

“I did.”

Ari grinned, eyes flicking to your legs.

“Yeah. I figured. You don’t get a body like that unless you earn it.”

He let the compliment hang.

You offered a polite smile, but your gaze wandered, looking for your husband. You could feel him, Steve’s attention slicing through the room like a live wire.

“I take my craft seriously,” you said. “Always have.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ari chuckled, gaze dragging down to your thigh, where the slit was working it's magic.

“You’re doing more than that. You should be up on a pedestal.”

Your laugh was soft. But Ari Levinson was definitely not subtle. You lifted a brow.

“You do that with all the art you want? Put it up high where you can’t reach it?”

Ari’s eyes darkened. 

“Only the pieces I know I shouldn’t touch.”

And that’s when the air shifted.

You didn’t see Steve move, but you felt it.

—---

For a brief moment, that old part of Steve Rogers, the one that used to snap fingers and have a guy thrown into the East River, woke up.

And while Steve didn’t make scenes anymore, he still kept track. Of tone. Of body language. Of intention.

Ari’s intention was obvious. His gaze crawled down your legs like a goddamn snake. Then he had the nerve to step closer and say something about pedestals.

Goddamn pedestals.

Steve downed the rest of his drink in one go and set the glass down with care.

Ari was lucky Steve wasn’t twenty-five and stupid, or there’d be a broken jaw on the floor and some very uncomfortable rich people pretending not to stare.

Instead, Steve moved.

—---

And that was when Ari felt it.

The shift. Like the air dropped ten degrees.

He didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. Steve Rogers. The human embodiment of quiet violence in a designer suit.

Ari didn’t flinch. But inside, he grinned.

Because Steve’s jealousy wasn’t weakness; it was confirmation.

You weren’t just sexy. You belonged to Rogers.

And that made this so much more interesting.

-----

By the time you turned your head, Steve was nearly on you, eyes locked on Ari like he was deciding whether or not he was worth the trouble.

And god, Steve looked like he wanted to ruin something.

Maybe the dress.

Maybe Ari.

Maybe both.

Your body reacted before your brain had time to catch up.

You were soaking wet.

Ari followed your gaze and let out a low chuckle.

“Oh I see. Now comes the fun part. You're Rogers' new wife.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, smiling as you twirled the rock on your left hand around your finger.

“And he’s probably two seconds from throwing me off the balcony.”

You smiled.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed again, laughing quietly.

Ari raised a brow at you, full of heat.

“Can’t blame him. I’d lose my mind too.”

—------

Steve didn’t speak at first. His eyes burned into Levinson, assessing him and making a decision.

Then he was beside you, a hand slipping to the small of your back, his thumb brushing your skin with the kind of quiet, controlled touch that made your stomach flip.

You leaned into him without hesitation, breath catching at the contact, and ruining him.

“Levinson,” Steve said coolly, like he was trying very hard to be civil. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Ari smiled, knowing he’d stirred something up. 

“Wouldn’t miss it. Especially not with the kind of company you’re keeping.”

He looked at you appreciatively.

Steve’s voice dipped.  “She’s taken.”

“Of course she is, she's your wife.”

Ari said with a casual shrug.

“Didn’t mean anything by what I said.”

Steve gave a slow, tight-lipped smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

“No offense taken. Just thought I’d remind you. Sometimes collectors get a little carried away. Start thinking everything in a gallery is for sale. Just causes heartbreak when they find it isn't. Or a break of some other kind.”

Ari's brows lifted.

“That a threat?”

Steve leaned in slightly, voice dropping so only Ari could hear. 

“No,” he said, tone velvet-smooth, “That’s a favor. Because if it were a threat, you wouldn’t still be standing here.”

Your breath caught. Steve’s fingers flexed subtly on your hip.

Ari’s mouth twitched into something that might have been a smirk. 

“Duly noted,” he muttered, and with a stiff nod, he turned and walked away.

Steve watched him go, his jaw clenched. You laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating steady and strong.

“You alright?” you asked softly.

He turned to you, some of the fire in his eyes still flickering.

“I’m fine,” he said, brushing a thumb along your cheek. 

“He won’t try that shit again.”

You raised an eyebrow. That made Steve even harder than he already was.

“You didn’t have to scare him.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a crooked grin. 

“But I wanted to. Better than the alternative."

Then, quieter, against your ear:

“You’re mine, Peach. I’ve killed for less than the way he looked at you, nevermind what he said.”

Your eyes widened as he smiled at you dangerously.

“Don’t worry about him Peach. I’m not going back there.”

You searched your husband’s beautiful blazing blue eyes.

“But do you think Ari Levinson was the only one watching you tonight? I’ve counted six men, and three women, who looked at you like a goddamn invitation.”

Your breath caught.

“And every one of them,” he continued, his fingers tightening slightly, “will go home and dream about something they’ll never have. But I’m about to have you, right under their noses. They will hear you some apart for me, even if they don’t quite know what they are listening to.”

Steve read your face, leaned in close, and whispered low against your ear.

“Come with me. Now.”

—--

Steve pulled you onto the balcony. He was controlled, but burning at the edges. The city glittered behind him, but his world had narrowed down to you. 

He didn’t look at the skyline. He looked at your mouth.

Your body.

Your eyes.

Like a starving man deciding which part of the feast to devour first.

His control was a tight thread, stretched thin, and you could feel it in the way his eyes burned into you like he needed to prove something.

Not to Levinson. But to himself. 

To you.

To prove that no one could look at you the way Ari did. That you were his. His alone. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and rough.

Your stomach fluttered. The look in his eyes wasn’t just hunger, it was laced through it was the kind of darkness you’d only seen when someone threatened what was his. 

Like in Atlanta.

“You feel that, Peach?” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. 

You thought he meant his hard cock pressed against you. But he didn’t.

“The air. The view. The way I’m about five seconds from fucking you stupid against this wall?”

Your breath hitched. Your body leaned into his instinctively, the cool stone of the wall behind you, and heat radiating from the wall of muscle in front of you making a heady contraction.

He didn’t wait for permission. One hand gripped your jaw, tilting your face toward him roughly while the other slid beneath the high slit of your dress, calloused fingertips ghosting along your inner thigh until they met your soaked lace.

“God damn, sweetheart,” he growled, nostrils flaring. 

“You’re already soaked. Is this for me, or Levinson?

Your eyes flashed at him.

"Steven..."

Steve laughed, confident of your devotion.

"I'm kidding, Peach. You get off on me being weak for you, don’t you? On being mine?”

“Yes,” you whispered, shameless about it.

“Say it again,” he demanded, slipping your panties aside and dragging a single thick finger through your slick folds.

“Oh, fuck," you choked. "I’m yours. Only yours.”

Steve Rogers didn’t ease into anything, from chasing you, to marriage. He jumped right into the deep end of you.

One powerful motion and your legs were around his waist, back pressed to the wall, his hips grinding against your core.

“You want everyone to hear it?” he asked, cock sliding against your slick pussy, his thick mushroom head catching on your clit and teasing you until your toes curled.

“I want you,” you gasped, voice breaking. 

“Show them. Show me.”

Steve swiveled his hips, and then he was inside you.

Not gently. Not sweetly. But deeply, completely, fucking you like his sanity depended on it.

Every thrust was brutal affection, devotion turned into rhythm. 

The sound of your bodies slapping together echoed off stone and glass. His lips were at your throat, teeth scraping skin, leaving marks that would be unmistakeable to anyone who saw them. Neither of you cared.

He gripped your thigh, his thumb circling your clit and devastating you.

“You were made for this,” he growled. “Made to take me. Look how perfect you are when you’re full of me. Dripping for me. Squeezing the shit out of me.”

Steve pumped and the sounds were obscene as his cock sleeked in and out of your sopping wet channel. Your wetness dripped down your thighs and his balls and you didn't care as long as he kept hitting that special spot.

You couldn’t speak. You could only moan, clinging to his broad shoulders while he shattered every ounce of restraint you had left.

“You wanna cum?” he whispered against your lips.

“God, yes…please….Steve....”

He slowed, grinding into you deep, keeping you on the edge while you whimpered. Begged.

“Right here at the party like this? With me buried inside you, showing everyone who the fuck you belong to?”

“Yes, please….I can’t…. I need….”

“Then do it, baby. Let go. Cum for me.”

You shattered on command. 

Lights danced behind your eyes as your orgasm ripped through you, his name a chant falling from your lips. He followed with a moan, hips jerking as his hot cum spilled into you, claiming you all over again.

And when it was over, when your bodies were still pressed together, trembling from the aftershocks, he kissed your forehead with a tenderness that ruined you as your combined fluids ran down your legs.

RIP to his pocket square, because that’s what he used to kneel and clean you up. 

You felt owned, treasured, and marked.

And safe. Always safe.

“You did so good for me, Baby.” 

Steve stood back up and murmured it against your lips tenderly, disposing the expensive, ruined piece of fabric in the nearest receptacle.

“So fucking good. You’re everything, Peach,” he whispered.

“And I want the whole fucking world to know.”

Your legs wobbled, your pulse was wild, but his hands were right there again, steadying you like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just fucked you against the wall with the city’s elite in the next room.

He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “You good, Peach?”

Your cheeks flushed.

“I don’t think I remember how to walk.”

Steve chuckled smugly and kissed the top of your head. 

“You don’t have to. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

You rolled your eyes, but he was already taking your hand, tugging you toward the door with that cool, collected gait he wore so well.

“Show off.”

He smiled angelically as his other hand slipped easily into his pocket. Steve Rogers looked to be the epitome of cool as he held the door for you, letting you step in first.

Murmured conversation resumed around you along with laughter and the clink of crystal. It was as if nothing had happened out there.

You were breathless. Floating. Smiling. And yes, proud.

But you froze when you saw Nico standing just a few feet from the balcony entrance, half-tucked in the shadow of a tall plant, arms loosely crossed. His posture was relaxed, his gaze scanning the room, alert and cool as ever. But you knew that he’d been there.

The whole time, standing watch while you and Steve had done the deed on the balcony.

Your mouth went dry.

Steve must’ve felt your body tense, because he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“He didn’t see anything. He was just doing his job.”

You looked back at Nico again, half-expecting judgment or amusement, but he didn’t even meet your eyes. His face was impassive. Professional. Not a flicker of reaction.

Still, your cheeks burned.

------

Ari's head was on a swivel ever since he watched you and Steve disappear out to the balcony. And he knew, he fucking knew what was happening.

He had to hand it to Rogers, he knew how to handle you. And how to brag without saying a word. Lucky sonofabitch.

When you came back into the party, your skin was flushed and you walked a gait that hadn’t wasn't present before. Your glow wasn’t just expensive highlighter, it was the kind of post-fuck radiance that could’ve lit up half the damn city.

Ari caught your eye and smirked. His gaze dragged slowly down your frame before flicking toward Steve. 

He raised his glass, an amused smile playing at his lips.

“Everything alright out there?”

Steve didn’t blink.

“Peach needed some air.”

Ari’s gaze lingered, and you saw Steve’s jaw tense just a fraction. His fingers brushed your lower back, subtle, but firm.

Mine.

You felt the wetness still between your thighs, the slight ache in your hips, and the delicious throb of where his mouth had left proof of his devotion on your neck.

You reached for a champagne flute from a passing tray.

“You’re glowing, Mrs. Rogers,” Ari said with a knowing smirk. 

“I hope you weren’t out there dancing without music.”

Before you could answer, Steve’s hand slid from your back to your hip, resting there with deliberate weight. 

“She doesn’t need music to dance.”

Ari’s brows lifted and his eyes flicked to your legs and lingered. 

You felt Steve stiffen slightly, and you slid closer, letting your hand settle on his chest in a silent reassurance. He relaxed a little under your touch, but his possessiveness was still there.

Ari took another sip of his wine and turned away, disappearing into a knot of collectors and critics.

The conversation shifted, the moment passed, but the electricity between you and Steve didn’t.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your temple. 

“You’re mine, Peach. Every single inch of you.”

“I know,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed. “And I love it.”

“I want them all to know it.”

You tilted your head back, eyes gleaming. 

“Then maybe you should dance with me.”

Steve raised a brow. 

“Out here, or back on that balcony?”

You smirked. “Both.”

His laugh was loud.

“Goddamn, I love being married to you.”

He offered you his hand again this time not to steal you away to the dark again, but to show you off under the lights.

And as he led you onto the dance floor, every guest including Ari Levinson, was left wondering what the hell kind of magic it was between you and Steve Rogers.

[makeupeffectsarchive]

Behind the scenes images of Stephen Geoffreys having prosthetics applied to him as his turn as the unlucky Evil Ed in Fright Night (1985)

Steve Johnson wished Evil Ed's transformation to be lumpy and 'asymmetrical' in contrast to the transformations in American Werewolf in London and The Howling. Geoffreys would spend 18 hours in the makeup chair as prosthetics were applied to his whole body. He had to take sleeping pills to pass out the time away!

For filming the transformation, Geoffreys would have to sit with his back against the set wall, which had a hole for a puppeteer to operate the rod-puppet wolf arm, as well as holes in the set's floor for another puppeteer to operate the rod-puppet wolf legs. Geoffreys would wear a neck appliance with the wolf head as a 'hat'; he could see out from holes in the neck, and the head was fitted with cable-operated animatronics allowing it to blink and grimace.