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capsslutt · 3 days ago

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Steve Rogers x Reader (smut)

Steve Rogers is tasked with protected princess y/n...will the tension boil over?

The palace was too quiet for Steve Rogers’ liking.

He stood straight-backed beside a gold-framed door, wearing a tailored suit instead of his usual uniform, feeling awkward and out of place in the world of crystal chandeliers and polished marble. He hadn’t been thrilled about this assignment. Babysitting a royal? It felt like a PR stunt—and he hated those.

The door swung open.

“Captain Rogers,” came a voice, cool and clipped.

Princess Y/N stood in the doorway, arms folded delicately across her midsection, her chin lifted with grace—and just enough attitude to make Steve’s jaw tick.

She was stunning. Poised. Elegant. And visibly unimpressed.

“I assume you're here to glare at anyone who dares look at me wrong, then?”

Steve gave a tight-lipped smile. “Just doing my job, Your Highness.”

“Mm. I told my advisors I didn’t need a bodyguard. But I suppose Captain America makes for good optics.”

“You’re not thrilled. I’m not thrilled. Let’s call it even.”

Her brows lifted in amusement. “Well, at least you're honest.”

They stared at each other for a beat too long.

Y/N turned smoothly on her heel. “Come along then, Captain.”

Steve followed, trying not to notice the sway of her dress or the scent trailing behind her—something floral and expensive. He didn't expect to be so aware of her. Didn't expect the way she commanded attention with nothing but a glance, how every room shifted to accommodate her presence.

And Y/N hadn’t expected her so-called protector to look like that.

Broad-shouldered. Clean-cut jaw. Those thick forearms flexing every time he adjusted his sleeves. His eyes were soft blue, but when he gave an order to her staff or coordinated with security, they turned sharp—commanding. He wasn’t just muscle. He was authority.

And God help her, it was getting hard to ignore.

At a press event, she caught herself glancing at him when she should’ve been smiling for cameras. Her cheeks flushed when his gaze met hers. He tilted his head as if to ask, You good? She nodded, heart thudding.

Later, in the car back to the palace, silence stretched between them until Y/N broke it.

“You’re not what I expected.”

“Yeah? What did you expect?”

“A tight-lipped soldier who never looks up from his earpiece.”

Steve smirked faintly. “And what did you get?”

“A man who looks like he was carved from marble and commands a room just by breathing.”

He blinked.

She arched a brow. “Too forward?”

Steve glanced away, mouth twitching. “Just surprised. Most people are more subtle.”

Y/N smiled, leaning back into the seat. “Well. Get used to me, Captain. We’re stuck together for a while.”

And they were.

Weeks passed.

The palace grew smaller.

The tension got thicker.

Every shared look lingered longer than it should. Every accidental touch felt intentional. When Y/N brushed against his arm in the hallway, his breath hitched. When he pressed a guiding hand to the small of her back during a crowded event, she had to bite her lip to stay composed.

He wasn’t supposed to want her.

She wasn’t supposed to want him.

But damn if their restraint wasn’t starting to unravel.

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The palace was in lockdown.

Guards swarmed the corridors, radios crackling with rapid French and English. One protester had breached the outer gate—a fluke, but enough to send everyone into overdrive.

Y/N had been yanked out of the garden mid-speech, her heart still pounding as Steve practically threw her into the private safe room behind the library.

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice taut, hand on the door as he locked it behind them.

“I’m fine—God, Steve, you didn’t have to grab me like that—”

“You weren’t moving fast enough.”

“I was mid-sentence.”

“You were exposed.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed—not with fear anymore, but something sharper. “Do you always bark orders like that when you’re scared?”

Steve stepped closer. “I’m not scared. I’m doing my job.”

“Well, Captain,” she said, voice trembling only slightly, “your job is to protect me, not manhandle me like I’m some asset.”

His jaw clenched. “You are an asset. That’s why I—” He stopped himself. Exhaled. “That’s why I got you out of there.”

Y/N turned away, arms crossed tightly. The safe room was small, dimly lit, warm with their breath. Her chest was still heaving. So was his.

“You know what?” she said after a long silence, turning back to him. “You’re right. I am an asset. A figurehead. A pretty little thing to be guarded and gawked at. That’s all anyone sees.”

Steve’s gaze shifted. “That’s not what I see.”

Her breath caught.

“What do you see?” she asked softly.

Steve’s eyes darkened as they trailed over her—her windblown hair, the trembling rise of her chest, the fire behind her eyes.

“I see someone who drives me insane.”

Y/N took a single step forward. “Do I?”

He nodded, voice low. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

“Maybe I don’t try to hide it.”

Steve’s hands curled at his sides. “You should.”

She tilted her head, heat spreading across her skin. “Why?”

“Because if you keep looking at me like that, Princess, I’m going to stop pretending I don’t want you.”

Silence.

Heavy. Hot.

Then Y/N crossed the final distance and stood right before him. “So stop pretending.”

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed onto hers with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs. Her hands tangled in his shirt, dragging him closer as he walked her back blindly, pressing her against the wall. The cool concrete dug into her back. His body was all heat and hardness, covering hers like a shield.

He kissed like he fought—with intensity, with purpose. One hand braced the wall beside her head, the other gripped her hip, fingers digging into the silk of her dress.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmured against her mouth, like it hurt him.

“You’re so fucking late,” she whispered, dragging her lips down his jaw.

Steve growled, teeth grazing her neck, his hand slipping to the back of her thigh to hoist her leg around his waist. She gasped, the contact sending sparks up her spine.

Their mouths met again, frantic, desperate, built on weeks of tension and silent restraint.

This wasn’t diplomatic.

This wasn’t careful.

This was raw need—spilling out between kisses and heavy breaths and whispered curses.

“Do you have any idea what it’s been like?” he muttered against her skin. “Being this close to you every damn day?”

Y/N pulled his face back to hers. “I’ve thought about you every night.”

Steve groaned, like it physically pained him. “Tell me to stop.”

She grabbed his face, lips brushing his. “Don’t you dare.”

He didn’t.

Steve's breath trembled as he held himself over her, lips swollen from their kiss, his large hand gripping her thigh like he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

“Y/N…” he murmured against her cheek, forehead resting on hers, trying—failing—to stay in control. “We shouldn’t…”

“You’re still pretending?” she whispered, fingers curling in his shirt, dragging it up and over his chest until he finally yanked it off and tossed it to the floor.

God, he was unreal. Toned, broad, impossibly strong—like a living sculpture. She dragged her palms down his chest, her eyes glazed with need.

Steve let out a ragged breath. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“Rush me?” she nearly laughed, tugging him back down by the collar. “I’ve been waiting.”

He kissed her again, slower this time—measured. Reverent. His lips soft against hers, his hand slipping to cup her cheek. The sweetness of it made her whimper.

But she didn’t want sweet. Not tonight.

She shoved the jacket from her shoulders, exposing the low-cut slip beneath her gown. Steve’s breath caught at the sight of her skin, his hand coming up like he had to feel it to believe it.

“You’re perfect,” he rasped.

“I don’t want perfect,” she whispered, grabbing his wrist and guiding it down, slipping his hand between her thighs where the fabric was already damp. “I want you.”

That was it.

Steve growled low in his throat, mouth crashing onto hers again—but this time, nothing was careful. He kissed her like he was starved, like he’d been holding back every second since the moment he first laid eyes on her.

His hand moved under her dress, fingers stroking through her slick folds. Y/N gasped into his mouth, clinging to him as he rubbed slow, torturous circles over her clit.

“You’re so wet,” he muttered against her neck, kissing, licking, biting down lightly until she moaned. “Is this all for me?”

“All for you, Steve,” she gasped, hips rolling into his hand. “Please—need more.”

He swore under his breath and lifted her effortlessly, placing her on the edge of the small table, yanking the fabric of her dress up around her waist. She spread her legs without shame, hair wild, eyes blazing.

Steve dropped to his knees like a man possessed, pulling her underwear aside and burying his face between her thighs. Y/N cried out, her hand flying to his hair as his tongue stroked her with slow, devastating pressure. He sucked her clit, teasing and firm, two fingers easing inside her as he groaned at how tight she was.

“Oh my God, Steve—don’t stop—”

He didn’t. He held her thighs open, worshipping her like he’d dreamed about this moment a hundred times, like he was memorizing every moan and twitch and whispered plea.

When she finally came, she clenched around his fingers, body arching as her hand slapped over her mouth to muffle the scream. Steve looked up at her with glazed eyes, jaw glistening, licking his lips like he needed to taste every drop.

“I need to be inside you,” he growled, standing quickly to undo his pants.

She pulled him in, desperate and breathless. “Then do it. Please—don’t make me wait.”

Steve lined himself up, gripping her waist with both hands, and slid into her with one smooth, hard thrust.

Y/N’s mouth fell open—no sound, just shock and pleasure. He was thick, stretching her perfectly, every inch dragging against her walls in slow, deep strokes.

He was trying to be gentle.

But she didn’t want gentle.

She locked her legs around his waist and rolled her hips into him. “Harder.”

Steve groaned, his control snapping in half.

He grabbed her by the hips and slammed into her, over and over, fucking her into the edge of the table, the wood creaking with every punishing thrust. Y/N’s head fell back, mouth open in a silent scream as he wrecked her, her hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into muscle.

“You feel so good,” he panted into her neck. “So fucking tight. I could stay inside you forever.”

She whimpered, clinging to him. “Then do it—fill me, Steve—make me yours.”

His hips stuttered, rhythm breaking as he let out a deep, strangled moan.

Her climax hit first—sharp and sudden—her body locking around him. Steve followed seconds later, hips jerking as he spilled deep inside her with a raw, breathless growl, burying his face in her neck.

Silence followed. Only their heavy breathing, their trembling limbs.

He didn’t pull out. Just stayed wrapped around her, forehead pressed to her shoulder, arms tight around her waist like he wasn’t ready to let go.

“I’m not supposed to fall for you,” he said quietly.

Y/N stroked the back of his neck. “Then it’s a good thing we’ve already done everything else.”

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