capsslutt

[capsslutt]

Tony Stark x Daughter Reader (Imagine/fluff) - The Adoption

lil series with random one-off stories, no need to read in order but this is the first one that starts it all! I'll take requests from patreon members, rules about that are in my patreon here, some chapters will be exclusive to patreon.

--------------

Tony Stark didn’t believe in fate. He believed in algorithms, equations, the way a 2.3% margin of error could be the difference between flying and splattering. But fate? That was for fortune cookies and bad rom-coms.

Still… he was sitting in an adoption agency’s office with Pepper Potts, and there was no equation to explain that.

Pepper was sitting perfectly straight in her chair, legs crossed, calm as ever. Tony, on the other hand, was tapping a screwdriver against his knee like he was waiting for an Avengers-level threat to appear just to get him out of this meeting.

“You know,” he muttered, leaning toward her, “when you said we should ‘expand the Stark legacy,’ I thought you meant new product lines. Not—” He gestured vaguely at the playroom visible through the glass wall, where toddlers were building block towers and arguing over stuffed animals. “—tiny humans with jam on their faces.”

Pepper gave him that look — the one that could stop a Stark Industries board meeting in its tracks. “You said you were open to this.”

“I said I was open to talking about it. Which is different. Talking is safe. Talking doesn’t involve, you know… responsibility.”

“Tony.” Her voice was soft but firm. He sighed.

“I’m great with responsibility,” he defended. “I’ve got a company, a superhero suit, a second superhero suit—”

“—and no one who calls you ‘Dad.’”

That one hit harder than he expected.

He leaned back, eyes flicking toward the playroom again. A little girl with messy brown hair was sitting cross-legged in the corner, silently fitting puzzle pieces together while the louder kids fought over a plastic fire truck. She wasn’t looking around for approval or attention — just quietly figuring it out.

Something about her focus reminded him of himself in the workshop.

The agency director’s voice cut in, polite but expectant. “We do have profiles of children who may be a good fit for you both. But… if you’d like, you’re welcome to spend some time in the playroom first.”

Pepper smiled. “We’d love to.”

Tony stood reluctantly, muttering under his breath, “Sure, why not. Let’s go mingle with the under-four-foot crowd.”

The playroom smelled faintly of crayons and animal crackers. Tony kept his hands in his pockets — like the furniture might break if he touched it — while Pepper knelt to greet a few kids. That’s when the little puzzle-solving girl looked up at him.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t wave. She just studied him like she was trying to figure out how all his pieces fit together.

Tony crouched down, eye level with her. “What are you working on, kid?”

“Dinosaurs,” she said simply, pointing to the puzzle. “It’s missing pieces.”

“Story of my life,” he said. “Want me to help?”

She considered this. “You don’t know where they go.”

“Well, technically, I could run an image reconstruction algorithm to—” He caught Pepper’s warning eyebrow from across the room. “…or we could just wing it.”

The little girl nudged a piece toward him. It was a corner piece. Easy win.

And that was how Tony Stark ended up sitting cross-legged on a rug for thirty minutes, helping a three-year-old complete a stegosaurus while pretending he wasn’t having the most unexpectedly grounding moment of his week.

By the time Pepper came over, the puzzle was finished and the girl was leaning comfortably against Tony’s arm like she’d known him forever.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Pepper asked gently.

“Y/N,” she said, quiet but sure.

Tony glanced at Pepper, and for once, words didn’t come easily to him. Because somewhere in his chest, something had just clicked into place — like the last piece of the puzzle.

------------------

Wanna read the rest? Subscribe to my patreon here or access the full story here. Please leave a tip here if you liked this story! I’m a masters student so anything helps.

[capsslutt]

Tony Stark Daughter series...

I've always loved the fanfics ive read years ago with Tony having a daughter, I might just do a series and have a collection of short stories under that trope. would anyone be into that? I'll take requests too of scenarios

[capsslutt]

Bucky Barnes x Nurse Reader (SMUT)

Y/n is the sweet n kind nurse who works in avengers tower, no one knows her dirty secret that she's crushing on Bucky and gets off on him during the night, until finally he figures it out.

lil preview, prt 2 includes rough sex, dirty talk, spitting, spanking, riding, unprotected sex, oral sex

----------------------

“Medbay! Now!” Sam’s voice echoed down the hallway as he dramatically limped in, holding his side like he was about to die.

“Oh, please,” Natasha rolled her eyes, following close behind. “You barely got grazed.”

“I still got shot, Nat. You could show a little sympathy.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N called with a soft laugh, already tugging on her gloves. “I’ve got plenty to go around.”

The medbay buzzed with post-mission energy. Bruised ribs, scraped knuckles, busted lips—nothing serious this time. Just the usual wear-and-tear from taking on whatever alien-tech-enhanced gang had popped up this week.

Y/N worked with a calm rhythm, her touch light, her words sweeter than honey.

She patched up Sam first—he tried to flirt through the sting of disinfectant and made a dramatic show of “enduring” her soft touch. She giggled and swatted his arm when he winced like she was torturing him.

“You’re not dying,” she teased.

“Yet,” he groaned, “but I might if you keep looking at me with those pretty eyes.”

“Don’t make me sedate you.”

“Could be fun.”

Steve walked in then, a bit of dried blood on his brow. “You bothering her again?”

“He loves the attention,” Y/N said with a wink.

“You okay?” she asked Steve as she started inspecting his cut.

He gave her a small smile. “Yeah. You know me. Just banged up.”

“And what about you, Clint?” she asked over her shoulder as he flopped onto one of the cots with a groan.

“I want your best ice pack and about five cookies,” he grumbled.

“I’ll bring cookies later,” she promised.

It was like this every time. Y/N, their quiet constant. The softest hands in the tower and somehow the one who held them together when everything else felt like it was falling apart. Everyone adored her. Not just for her care, but for her kindness. Her heart. Her ability to be gentle even after a day filled with chaos and fire.

And then Bucky walked in.

Quiet, as usual.

He had a split lip and a slice along his side, his shirt darkened with blood. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, waiting. Watching.

“You’re up last,” she said softly, motioning him over.

He didn’t argue. He never did—not with her.

He sat on the table silently while she cleaned the cut on his side. She didn’t ask him to talk. He never did during these moments. But he always let her touch him.

Y/N felt it—how still he got under her hands, like he was afraid to move. Like the sensation of being cared for was still foreign.

“You’ll need a couple of stitches,” she murmured.

He grunted in response. Nothing more.

She sewed him up carefully. Her eyes flicked to his now and then. He wasn’t looking at her, but he wasn’t not looking either.

“There,” she said when she was done, pressing a clean pad over the spot. “Good as new, Sergeant.”

He glanced at her then. Just a flicker. Just for a second.

“…Thanks.”

It was quiet. Barely a whisper. But she heard it.

She smiled softly. “You’re welcome.”

“Alright,” Tony’s voice rang through the door. “Someone tell Nurse Y/N to go to bed before she starts patching the walls. You’ve done enough for one night.”

Y/N laughed, pulling off her gloves. “Fine. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

There was a chorus of goodnights, a few “thank yous,” and even a dramatic, “Save me a cookie!” from Clint.

Bucky didn’t say anything else. He just watched her walk away.

Her room was small but cozy. Fairy lights glowed dimly across the ceiling. She changed into an oversized shirt and climbed into bed, exhausted but restless. Her body ached, not from the day—but from him.

She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

She could still feel the heat of Bucky’s skin under her fingers. The ripple of muscle beneath her palms. The rough edge of his voice when he said thank you.

She bit her bottom lip.

Her hand slid beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers ghosting over her thighs.

She shouldn’t.

She shouldn’t.

But her mind was already playing tricks. Already conjuring him—shirtless, panting, pinning her down with that cold metal hand against her throat and those glacier eyes burning into her.

Her fingers found the heat between her thighs and she whimpered, her hips shifting as she pressed against her clit with slow, aching need.

“Oh… Bucky…” she gasped, arching her back into her own hand.

No one would ever suspect. Not Steve. Not Sam. Not even Bucky himself.

To them, she was their sweet nurse. Their angel in scrubs.

But if they saw her now—sweating, gasping, whispering his name as she chased the pleasure he’d never know he gave her—

They’d never look at her the same way again.

-----------------

The night was quiet — until it wasn’t.

The sirens in Avengers Tower blared at 2:43 a.m., a shrill, jarring sound that jolted Y/N out of sleep like an electric shock.

“Security breach on sublevel three,” FRIDAY’s voice echoed overhead. “All residents, shelter in place. Emergency response en route.”

Y/N’s heart pounded. She didn’t hesitate. She threw on a hoodie over her sleep shirt, barefoot, hair messy, and sprinted into the hallway—because she never sheltered in place. She helped. That was who she was.

But as soon as she rounded the corner, a heavy hand yanked her back, fast and firm.

She barely had time to yelp before she was shoved gently—but forcefully—against the wall.

A metal hand clamped over her mouth.

She blinked up and found herself face to face with him.

Bucky.

His body pressed hard against hers, chest heaving, hair a mess of shadows around his face. His human hand was braced beside her head, his body all heat and muscle. He didn’t speak. Just listened. Eyes sharp. Focused.

But then they shifted.

Lower.

To her chest.

To the soft swell pressing into him—no bra, just her thin shirt, and it was cold.

His breath hitched.

Then her thighs clenched, instinctively, almost helplessly, right against his leg.

He noticed.

Fuck.

He almost closed his eyes and cursed, but that would mean losing focus. He couldn’t afford that.

But she was soft. Warm. And he could feel the quick thrum of her heart, the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. The way her nipples had stiffened through the thin cotton. The way her body molded into his like it had been waiting for this moment.

He’d pressed women to walls before—interrogations, defense tactics, worse—but never like this. Never with a trembling hand under his palm. Never with wide eyes looking up at him like he was both the threat and the only safety left in the world.

Her eyes were locked on his.

And what he saw wasn’t fear.

It was lust.

Pure, raw lust. The kind he recognized all too well. The kind he’d never once seen in her eyes. Until now.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

Because if he shifted even a little, he might do something that would change everything.

Then, a crackle in his earpiece.

“Threat neutralized. False alarm—some rogue tech on the sublevel, but it's clear. Everyone stand down.”

The second FRIDAY confirmed it, he stepped back.

Too fast. Like he’d been burned.

Y/N stood there frozen, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Still breathing hard. She looked like a dream he shouldn’t have had.

She didn’t say anything.

Just turned and ran.

Back in her room, Y/N slammed the door shut and collapsed against it, heart racing. Her legs were shaking. She clenched her thighs again, this time not subtly, not instinctively—but desperately.

“Oh my God…”

He’d pressed against her like that, his hand over her mouth, his chest against hers, and there’d been no space. No distance. Nothing but heat. Nothing but him.

And he saw. He knew.

She ran a hand over her flushed face and whimpered, stumbling toward her bed like her body wasn’t her own anymore.

The ache between her legs pulsed like a heartbeat.

She climbed into bed, shaking, still feeling the weight of his body against hers.

Still hearing the curse he whispered under his breath.

Like he knew he wasn’t supposed to want her.

But he did.

She buried her face in her pillow, panting as her hand slipped under her shorts.

“Bucky…”

His name left her lips like a prayer—breathless, sinful, and sweet.

And across the Tower, Bucky stood in the hallway, one hand still clenched in a fist, his body hard as stone and his mind racing with the memory of the softest girl he knew… pressed against him like she’d been made to break him.

---------------

A week passed.

Y/N hadn’t spoken to Bucky.

She tried to. Tried to act normal. But every time she saw him across the common room, or heard his voice over comms, her stomach twisted. Her thighs clenched. Her mind replayed that night like a loop she couldn’t shut off — the heat of his chest, the rough grip of his hand, the look in his eyes.

And now she was avoiding him. Everyone saw it.

But he saw through it.

2:14 a.m.

The knock at her door was firm. Not loud. Not gentle either.

Y/N froze.

She knew who it was before she even stood up.

Barefoot, heartbeat in her throat, she padded over and opened it just a sliver.

Bucky stood there. In grey sweatpants and a tight black shirt that stretched over his chest and arms like it was struggling to stay intact. His jaw was sharper than usual, clean-shaven, freshly trimmed hair swept back in a way that made him look unfairly good.

His expression was unreadable.

“You avoiding me?” he asked, voice low, eyes locked on hers.

“What?” she whispered.

But he stepped forward slightly, and she panicked—reaching out and grabbing his wrist, yanking him inside.

“Don’t stand in the hallway like that,” she hissed, slamming the door behind him. “It’s the middle of the night!”

He didn’t move far once he was in. Just stood there, chest rising and falling, arms crossed.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Y/N.”

She crossed her arms too. “I haven’t. I’ve been—just busy.”

He took a step closer.

She didn’t move.

“You can lie to the others,” he said, voice like gravel. “But don’t lie to me.”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“You’re the one who grabbed me in the middle of a security breach,” she snapped. “Forgive me if I needed some spaceafter being pressed against a damn wall.”

His brow twitched. “It was protocol.”

“Oh, so protocol includes—” she motioned wildly, “—slamming me against a wall and breathing down my neck like a sex dream?”

His jaw clenched.

“You think I wanted that?” he growled, stepping closer again.

She stood her ground, even though her tank top suddenly felt too thin and the air between them was sparking.

“You didn’t not want it,” she said, chin tilted high.

He looked her over then—really looked.

Tank top. No bra. Bare legs. Hair messy from sleep.

His gaze dropped to her chest. He lingered there for just a second too long.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“So are you.”

He exhaled through his nose like he was trying to ground himself.

“I’ve been trying to be good, Y/N.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what I am. What I could be to you. And it’s not soft. Not gentle.”

Her breath hitched.

“I don’t want soft,” she whispered. “Not from you.”

That broke him.

He stepped forward again—closer this time, chest almost brushing hers, the heat of him unbearable.

Her heart was hammering so loud she was sure he could hear it.

Then something snapped.

She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him down into a kiss.

For a split second, he didn’t move.

Then everything shifted.

He growled low in his throat and grabbed her—hands rough, greedy, possessive. One on the small of her back, the other gripping her jaw. He kissed her hard, tilting her head back like he needed more of her, all of her, and fast.

Y/N gasped against his mouth, trying to keep up with him as he backed her toward the wall, never breaking contact.

His lips were hot. Demanding. His tongue slid against hers and she moaned, gripping the back of his neck like she was drowning.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, breath ragged.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he muttered, voice rough and hungry.

“Then show me,” she whispered back, eyes wild, lips kiss-swollen and trembling.

and he did.

Her back hit the wall with a thud as Bucky kissed her like he’d been starving for it — because he had.

He was everywhere — hands gripping her waist, lips devouring her mouth, hips pressing her into the wall like he wanted to fuse their bodies together.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

She shook her head. “You’re not even close.”

Still, he was careful. Almost tender as he kissed down her neck, sliding one hand up under her tank top. His fingers grazed the underside of her breast.

Y/N groaned in frustration.

“Don’t hold back.”

He froze.

“What?”

She grabbed his wrist and guided his hand hard over her chest. “I’m not made of glass, Bucky.”

His eyes darkened.

“I’m sick of being treated like some delicate little thing,” she whispered, lips brushing his. “Is it so hard to just… be rough with me?”

Silence.

His breath hitched.

Then he snapped.

-------------------

Wanna read part 2 including the smut? Subscribe to my patreon here or access the full story here. Please leave a tip here if you liked this story! I’m a masters student so anything helps.

[capsslutt]

Hyunjin x Reader - buzzcut (smut)

Unprotected sex, hate sex, dirty talk, degradation, spitting, rough sex

-------------

The music was loud, bass shaking the floor as people crowded into the house, drinks in hand, laughter echoing down hallways. Y/N didn’t want to be here, but her best friend had begged her to come. She was already halfway through her first drink when she saw him.

Her eyes landed on Hyunjin.

And she blinked.

Twice.

It couldn’t be him.

Gone were the long, silky black locks he always used to flick arrogantly over his shoulder. The ones she used to call “his princess hair” just to piss him off. Now, they were replaced by something entirely new—his head shaved down into a sharp blond buzzcut, accentuating his cheekbones, his jawline, his dark brows. He looked... intense. Confident. Dangerous.

And he was staring right at her.

Of course he noticed her reaction—he always noticed things about her. Especially when they hated each other.

Or, at least, pretended to.

He made his way through the crowd with the same slow, lazy swagger he always had, except this time it hit differently. It wasn’t cocky. It was controlled. Like he had nothing left to prove. Like he knew what he was doing to her.

Y/N turned her head away quickly, swallowing hard and focusing on the condensation sliding down her cup.

"Didn't recognize me, did you?" His voice was low, almost amused, directly in her ear.

She shivered.

"Hyunjin," she said, cool as ever, but her voice betrayed her. Just slightly breathier. Just slightly shakier.

His fingers brushed the small of her back, feather-light. “You’ve been staring.”

She jerked forward like his touch had burned her. “Was not.”

“You were.” He stepped in front of her, eyes locked on hers, his smile slow and devilish. “And now? You’re breathing faster.”

“Am not,” she said, but it came out more like a whisper.

“You got goosebumps.”

“No, I—”

He reached out and traced the raised skin on her arm, eyes never leaving hers. “Right here,” he murmured, the tip of his finger making her suck in a breath. “Just from me getting close. You always act like you hate me, but look at you. What would you do if I touched you for real?”

She pushed his hand away roughly, stepping back—but not far. “You’re such an ass.”

His eyes darkened with interest. “That didn’t sound like a no, baby.”

She glared up at him, lips parted, chest rising and falling faster than it should.

“Tell me,” he leaned down, voice molten now, “do you want me to ruin that little attitude of yours tonight? Hm?”

Her gasp was sharp—more shock than outrage—but then she was grabbing his shirt, balling it in her fists, pulling him down before she could stop herself.

Their mouths crashed together.

It was hot. Messy. Desperate.

She kissed him like she hated him. Like she needed him.

His hand was in her hair, his mouth trailing down to her jaw as he whispered, “Knew it. I knew it.”

She shoved him back just enough to breathe. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And she did—dragging him down again, kissing him harder, the party forgotten, her pride burning away with every flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers in her waist.

He might’ve cut off all his hair—but he was the one unraveling her.

They stumbled into the nearest empty room, the door slamming shut behind them as Hyunjin kicked it closed with his foot, barely breaking their kiss. Y/N’s back hit the wall with a soft gasp, his hands already sliding under her shirt, his mouth tracing fire down her neck.

“I knew there was something under all that attitude,” he muttered, lips ghosting over her skin. “All that eye-rolling and ignoring me—”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he growled against her throat, biting down just hard enough to make her hips jerk against him. “Little brat, acting like you’re too good for me. But look at you now.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders as he grabbed her thigh and lifted it around his waist, grinding into her like he had every right to. She whimpered against his mouth, letting him take control, letting him manhandle her with dizzying ease.

“Letting me touch you like this,” he panted, kissing her jaw as his hand slipped between her thighs, pressing against the heat there through her clothes. “Letting me get you wet just by talking.”

She gasped, head tilting back as he rolled his hips again, the friction driving a moan from her lips. “Hyun—”

“Say it,” he cut her off, voice low and mean. “Say you’ve wanted this. Say you’ve wanted me.”

“I—fuck—” she whimpered, nails clawing into his biceps now, holding on like he might disappear if she let go. “I hated you.”

He smirked, dragging her panties to the side and sliding his fingers into her. “No, baby. You wanted me. Hated yourself for it.”

She cried out, clenching around his fingers as he pumped them slowly, torturously deep. He leaned in, teeth grazing her earlobe.

“Look at you. Moaning like a slut for the same guy you called annoying two days ago.”

She was panting now, grinding into his hand, face flushed, legs trembling.

And then he pulled back slightly, grabbing her chin between his fingers. “Open your mouth.”

She hesitated—just for a beat—but when his eyes darkened and he raised a brow, she did it.

“Good girl,” he said, spitting into her mouth with slow, deliberate control.

She whimpered, swallowing instinctively, her knees almost buckling. His lips curled into a wicked smirk.

“Now say thank you.”

Her eyes fluttered. “Th-thank you.”

“Louder.”

“Thank you,” she moaned, louder this time, wrecked and desperate and undone.

“God, you’re perfect like this,” he growled, unbuckling his pants now. “Clingy. Messy. Mine.”

And when he pushed into her, filling her all at once, her head fell forward onto his shoulder with a cry, arms clinging tight around him.

He didn’t stop talking.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Hold on tight. Didn’t know all I had to do was cut my hair to finally fuck the attitude out of you.”

She bit down on his neck, moaning through every filthy thrust, letting him break every wall she’d ever built up against him.

And he reveled in it—every sound, every scratch, every please that spilled from her lips.

Because now he knew: she didn’t hate him.

She was just dying for him to ruin her.

The door creaked open just a sliver, and Y/N slipped out first, hair a little tousled, lips swollen, but her expression perfectly composed. Like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t just let Hyunjin spit in her mouth and fuck her against a stranger’s wall.

She adjusted her top calmly, made her way back into the party like it was any other night, not even sparing him a glance as he stepped out behind her a few seconds later, rolling his shoulders and smirking to himself.

She ignored the way her legs trembled slightly with every step. Ignored how her body still felt like it belonged to his hands. She was already sipping someone else’s drink by the time he came up beside her again.

“So,” he said casually, leaning on the counter beside her, “you always thank guys like that? Or just me?”

She didn’t flinch. Just kept sipping. “You’re delusional.”

Hyunjin let out a low whistle. “Damn. And here I was thinking it was special.”

She side-eyed him, cool and sharp. “Nothing happened.”

He tilted his head, licking his lips. “You sure about that, sweetheart? ‘Cause my shirt still smells like your perfume. And I think your thigh’s still shaking.”

She tightened her grip on the cup. “Must’ve been the cheap vodka.”

Hyunjin leaned in closer, dropping his voice just for her. “You can pretend all you want, but I felt how tight you held onto me. How you begged. I heard every little moan.”

Her breath hitched—and she hated that he noticed.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he went on, smug and sweet. “I won’t tell anyone that the girl who ‘can’t stand me’ begged me to spit in her mouth and say thank you like a good girl.”

She turned toward him slowly, gaze hard. “You’re disgusting.”

He grinned, leaning just a little closer. “And you liked it.”

She didn’t respond. Just shoved past him with a roll of her eyes, disappearing into the crowd again.

But Hyunjin didn’t mind.

Because every time they locked eyes across a room now—every time she turned pink, every time she walked away a little too fast—he knew.

She could pretend it never happened.

But he remembered every second.

And eventually… she’d come back for more.

---------------

Wanna read part 2 with more filth: subscribe to my patreon here or access the full story here. Leave a tip here.

sneak peak of part 2:

She sobbed out a broken moan, pushing back against him, desperate. “More, please—Hyunjin, don’t stop—”

“You think I’d ever stop now?” he groaned, one hand gripping her hair, the other around her throat as he pulled her up against him. “Not when you’re so fucking tight around me. Not when you came here dripping and ready.”

She turned her head, kissing him blindly, messily, lips parting under his. “Spit in my mouth again.”

He grinned darkly. “Greedy now, aren’t we?”

[capsslutt]

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.

--------------

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.”

-----------

If you want early access to my stories and bonus parts, subscribe to my patreon here! Or leave a tip here.

[capsslutt]

Masterlist

Hi everyone, I post marvel imagines and for a few idols in Kpop like Felix, Hyunjin, Jake, Bangchan, etc. My NCT/BTS blog is @jikookncity

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans

Steve x Princess!Reader

[capsslutt]

STOP ASIAN HATE

Like and reblog

[capsslutt]

[capsslutt]

Blame this guy named tony for this ok😭

[capsslutt]

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

[capsslutt]

update : 07.16 :  (long post)

 it’s still difficult for now, i can’t pay much groceries for my siblinngs. I’m trying rn to find a job in emergency but during  corona and summertime,  it’s  a nightmare to find one. Many of you don’t have paypal and ask for another to support me. One of my followers ( @ruthfully)  offer me  to use her accounts.

Venmo: @sunflowerofseattle 

Cashapp: $CurlyHumility

paypal (mine account) : paypal.me/janeyyre

please reblog 💛

[capsslutt]

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

[capsslutt]

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

[capsslutt]

yangyang: remember when i first met u and u had no talent???? well, you’ve grown!

ten: thank u baby

yangyang: yeah no problem but u really were a talentless bitch!!!

[capsslutt]

i wish men understood that when women are talking about feminism and rape culture and shit, it’s not just a political conversation. it’s not about being a “social justice warrior” or whatever. it’s about our actual lives being shaped by misogyny since childhood, and the daily reality of living in fear of violence. this isn’t a fucking game or philosophical debate. this is our fucking lives. 

[capsslutt]

USE HEADPHONES 🏎️