#princess!y/n

[fishnets-fingers]

Forbidden Hours

“Sounds like someone’s projecting,” he says, voice laced with honey.

“I’m not projecting anything.”

“Sounds like what you’re saying is that you’re jealous that I have the confidence to partake in intercourse and you’re a bumbling virgin-“

“I’ve read all of the volumes of the Kamasutra. I know my way around when I need to engage in coitus for reproduction,” she cuts him off.

“Oh, sweet sweet Princess,” he whispers, using her title condescendingly. “Sex is more than just reproduction.” He strides towards her.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

a/n - happy first day of 2023! this is my first time writing historical fiction. it’s loosely inspired by a movie, particularly this scene. it’s not historically accurate in the slightest. you can read more about the chola dynasty here. don’t know how many parts this would have but i’m hoping to write more of these two’s dynamic. if you have any ideas, let me know. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 4.2k (not proofread)

MASTERPOST | PART TWO

….

நிழல். Shadow. That was his nickname among the royal heirs. He was quiet, swift, inconspicuous, and nimble - camouflaging himself in vast rooms and gathering intel. There wasn’t a room in the kingdom he couldn’t weasel himself in; whether that be up on the roof, scaling walls, or hidden in the dark - where candle lights don’t flicker.

Growing up as the son of a British sea merchant, Harry learned that there wasn’t much for a young boy to do in the cramped quarters of the ship. He’d lost his mother the moment he took his first breath. There wasn’t a lot of maternal warmth in his life but that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t loved. He was loved in a different way, his father kept him close during the wuthering nights at sea often pointing out constellations in the night sky to remind him that life had far more in store for him than the fervent passing waves of the sea. But he was also a man that did not believe in making mistakes, so whenever Harry got in trouble, he was asked to scrub the deck floor clean until his hands bled. He learnt his way around a sword from the crewmen. Travelling to different ports of the world also meant learning different forms of combat and gathering information from people of different cultures. Stewing in a ship with ten men for months meant no entertainment, so he began sifting for stories and used their weakness and strengths against them to gain favours.

He docked on Chozhamandalam when he was twenty and was greeted with a red swallowtail flag with a pouncing tiger on it. He grew to love the people of Kaveripattinam - the bustle of the markets, the chortle of the children running about, the welcoming people, and the way art was particularly celebrated in this small port town, and the princess he set his sights on his third day of being docked there. He’s heard of royalty. Lots of royalty. Cruel rulers. Compassionate rulers. Ostentatious rulers. Modest rulers. Heard. But he’s never seen one in the flesh. Until that day.

A crowd gathered near the temple, murmurs of visiting royals spread like wildfire, and when he’d caught wind of it, he couldn’t resist. Ten soldiers walked first clearing the path, two on horses and sheathed swords followed, then came ten men bearing the weight of a palanquin. It wasn’t an ordinary palanquin, this particular one was grandiose, shimmering in gold and stained glass but the insides were draped in silk to obstruct the view of the onlookers. The Queen Mother exited first, greeting the townspeople and that’s when Harry saw her - the Princess Regnant, the one third in line to the throne. He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the way her lips curled up in an inviting smile. Harry has seen many a sight in his life but none would compare to the way the royal blue silk saree draped around her body made her skin shimmer; it reminded him of how the first light of the sun would glint and glimmer on the steady ocean water. Her eyes were dark, like the deepest part of the sea where light does not enter. She was adorned in gold, hair piled up into a tall bun that was decorated with jasmine flowers. Their temple visit was brief, the Princess joined her grandmother thanking people for their well wishes before being escorted into the temple premises. It was her eighteenth birthday, so a feast was prepared for everyone in town. As the crowd dissipated to head to the town hall for the royal lunch, Harry lingered wanting to catch sight of the Princess again. He managed to climb a peepal tree that towered over the south entrance of the temple. He saw her again, only this time being told off by the guard as she tried to reach over to pluck a blooming lotus from the temple pond. She huffed in response settling down on the step, so the water lapped at her feet, guiding a tadpole trapped in a water bubble on the lotus pad back into the water.

Three years later, he’d made himself a name in the kingdom. His path stumbled with the Crown Prince a month after arriving. He soon became his confidant, even earning a spot in his army. The Crown Prince, Vikram, was a skilled warrior often going off on conquests under the King’s orders to further expand the country. The youngest Prince, Karthi, was sent to the island of Lanka to study apothecary and healing. And the middle heir, Princess Y/N, was known for her wisdom and strategic wit. She often presided in important meetings with the King and his counsel and implemented many strategies that helped triple the wealth of the dynasty and the well-being of the people. The first battle Harry rode alongside the Crown Prince, he was tasked with bringing home a note sent by the prince to his father detailing his plans on the war spoils to the King. Harry was entrusted with carrying secrets and messages to royalty and trusted members of the Crown. His knack of gathering information also came in handy and now was a spy for the royal heirs three years later.

Soon enough the nickname Shadow was bestowed upon him by Prince Karthi. There wasn’t a single room he couldn’t get into - even the castle. But the tower he was currently scaling was one he never had before - Princess Y/N’s chamber. It was forbidden to talk to her without supervision but in the dark of the night, he supposed it did not matter. His job description came with breaking rules and this particular information needed for her to be in the know sans protocols.

He hitched his leg up over the stone bannister and lurched his torso up to the terrace. Princess Y/N’s tower was away from the main dome of the royal vacation castle and he chalked it up for safety but now standing at her balcony, he understands why. The view was unbelievable - the vast expanse of the ocean was at his feet, calm waters painted silver with the full moon; it also overlooked her personal garden filled with coral jasmine, hibiscus, marigolds, and wildflowers. The ocean breeze carried over the fragrance of the flora straight to her room. It was well known that the princess was an avid gardener; he heard through the grapevine that oftentimes she’d sketch out the garden’s landscape plans and sometimes even join the workers to tend to the flower beds. Princes who came to court her from neighbouring territories would almost always bring a sapling of a flowering plant to gain affection.

One could get used to the view, he thinks, as he leans against the bannister one more time - the sounds of tides crashing over the shore soothe his nerves from his climb up. Being born with the golden spoon ain’t that bad. If the burden of duty came with such lavish living quarters, someone sign me the fuck up, Harry takes in the scenery before him before pushing off from it. His body instinctively makes his way to her, like a moth being drawn to a frame, or in this case a spy being drawn to the lavish canopy bed bathed in the buttery glow of candlelight. He stops in his tracks for the second time by the sight of her, not by the opulent beauty that she radiated when he first laid eyes on her but with fondness.

It’s not the Princess Regnant who’s fast asleep on her bed but Y/N. The same Y/N who bristles every time he’s in the room with her siblings. The same Y/N who straightens up her back and holds her chin up high when he cracks a joke to try and force a smile on her face.The same Y/N who looks away when he catches her eyeing him up as he hands over the sealed scroll sent by one of her brothers. It’s almost as if Harry is seeing her for the first time without any filters - except for the sheer white netted fabric that hangs around. She looks small without all the jewellery and silks. Hair raven and straight and long - longer than what he had anticipated - now that her hair has not been pinned up in a bun or bushed away from her face with intricate braids. She looks vulnerable - almost her age - a twenty one year old with a bare face that is not made up immaculately. She has dark circles under her eyes, and Harry deduces that it’s from reading all the books she has strewn over - opened - beside her on the satin sheets. Her lips are curled downwards; she frowns in her sleep and Harry has to try and fight the urge to reach over and smooth out the crinkle between her eyebrows.

He clears his throat, hoping she’ll wake up before he ends up touching her and landing himself in prison. She twitches in response, her steady deep breaths interrupted by a sharp inhale. He clears his throat again, louder this time, followed by, “Your royal highness.”

Y/N’s eyes flutter open, and she jolts up when she sees a tall figure standing beside her. “Who?” She asks, voice hoarse, eyes darting up over his broad chest.

“It’s me, Princess Y/N,” Harry answers.

“Mr. Styles.” Hand coming over to rub the sleep from her eye. “What are you doing here? In my chamber? You’re not allowed,” she states.

“I apologise, your majesty. I’ve been riding for five hours, ma’am. From the estate in the hills. Couldn’t risk having someone overhearing this for the sake of protocol,” he explains.

“So, was I right?” Y/N questions, shuffling out of her bed. Harry moves behind so she has the space to stand upright. “Are the governors convening?”

She gets no reply, making her flit her eyes up at his jade embers to find him staring at her body. Harry could make out the full curves of her breasts and hips with the flimsy white gown Y/N was wearing. Her nipples pebbled from the cold winds from the sea and peaks out the cotton fabric. She rolls her eyes, and snaps her fingers in front of his face to catch his attention. “I could have your eyes gouged out this instant, Harry Edward Styles! There are guards on the other side of this door.”

“Apologies, Princ-“

“You’re full of apologies tonight, aren’t you?” Y/N folds her arms, shielding her chest from his gaze.

“Sorry, Prin-“

Y/N laughs. “It’s far too late for formalities, Mr. Styles. Plus, they only apply to people who follow protocols and walk in through there,” she cocks her head to the carved wooden door. Considering you broke into my room by climbing my balcony, I reckon you can give it a rest. Call me Y/N.”

“Yes,” Harry nods. “Y/N,” he adds. Testing out the way her name rolls out of his mouth. He can’t help the way his dimples carve in his cheeks as the corner of his lips tug upward. I like it, he decides. He likes the way saying her name feels on his tongue, it’s rich and velvety and he wants to keep saying it again and again. “Please call me Harry.”

“Harry, tell me what you saw. Don’t leave out any details,” she orders, walking over to her desk.

Fucking shit, Harry shakes his head. How was he supposed to concentrate when the candles she was lighting only made the silhouette of her body more prominent. She could clearly see the swell of her bum and he’ll bet his entire fortune that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath other than that flimsy gown. He shamelessly lets his eyes rake up over her and his heart flutters when he meets her expenatant eyes, quill hovering over a parchment, urging him to vomit out what he knows.

“Yes. The Hill estate,” he clears his throat. “You’re right. Five governors held a secret meeting at midnight at the Bull temple. You know, the one that was destroyed last monsoon by a landslide.”

Y/N scoffs and lets out a chuckle of disbelief. “Of course, they pick the most obvious spot. Were you able to get a good look at who these governors are?”

“Yes. Do you want me to list them out?”

“Please,” she says, writing down each of the names that Harry listed. He walks closer to where she was hunched over, writing. Harry’s not surprised to see the elegance in her script.

“Impressive. Nice handwriting,” he comments.

“Hardly something to be impressed by, Harry.”

“Well, Y/N, it’s better than mine.”

“If you had tutors from all over the world, I’m sure your script will look just as impressive,” she adds.

“Of course.” He nods. “The meeting. The governors are unhappy with the decree to build schools using the tax money they’re collecting.”

“Of course they are,” she mumbles. “They’re all for taxes when they can use it to fatten themselves up but ask them to spend it on the children of their districts, they are suddenly unhappy with the new system implemented.”

“That’s not all.” Harry opens a silver box and pops a date into his mouth.

“Help yourself,” Y/N comments, shaking her head at his lack of etiquette. Harry’s face flushes with pink and he can feel the tips of his ears getting hot.

“It’s a long journey back here,” he tells her, avoiding her eyes in embarrassment and on cue his stomach rumbles.

Y/N eyes soften. “There are fruits in the basket. And here.” She walks over pulling out a glass jar filled with jujubes from the drawer by her bedside and brings it over to him.

“You have gummies in your drawer,” he notes, smirking at the half eaten jar of sugar coated coloured candy.

“I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” she tells him with a shy smile. He props himself on the table and she makes her way to her desk, watching him eat.

“Harry,” she calls out. “You said that’s not all,” she prompts.

“Your Uncle was there,” he tells her quietly, not wanting anyone to hear.

“My Uncle?” She asks, alarmed. “Can’t be.”

“I saw him, Y/N. He came in shrouded in a black cloak. He’s sired an offspring he said. Claimed that his son had a right to the throne. That’s as much as what was said before they dispersed.”

“You’re positive?”

“Are you implying that I’m being dishonest?”

“I’m not implying anything,” Y/N snaps. “I just want you to be sure.”

“I saw him with my own two eyes, Y/N. I was taken aback too. Both Princes speak of him fondly.”

“Seems like there’s a conspiracy afoot,” Y/N says, almost to herself.

“I’ll let Prince Vikaram know immediately,” he informs.

“Don’t. He’s hot headed. God knows he’ll come charging to the capital and stick a knife in my Uncle’s throat. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“What are you going to do?”

“That’s below your pay grade, spy. I’ll handle this myself. I’m heading to the capital tomorrow for a meeting with my father and the court. How long would it take for you to sail to Lanka alone?”

“Almost a week,” Harry answers.

“Okay. I want you to set sail to Lanka five days from now. I’ll have a scroll delivered to you at noon by the docks. Hand it over to Karthi. Father will want him back in the capital. Keep mum about this and you’ll be rewarded handsomely.”

Harry nods. “Don’t want gold coins this time. I want a house. Close to the sea. One with space for a yard.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll set sail five days from now to Lanka. It’ll also be nice to pay the old man a visit too.”

“Your father’s there?”

Harry nods.

“How is Merchant Styles? I heard he’s retired” Y/N asks.

“He took to Buddhist teachings. Become a proper monk now,” Harry chuckles.

Y/N laughs, one that’s laced with mockery.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks, standing up abandoning the food.

“Nothing,” she gets out between peels of laughter, wiping her the tears that threaten to spill.

“With all due respect, Princess. Spit it the fuck out,” he huffs out in annoyance.

“It’s just funny. Your father practises a faith that preaches restraint of the senses as one of its precepts and then there’s you.” She bites down on her bottom lip to stop herself from breaking out into a fit of laughter.

“I don’t quite follow,” he crosses her arms.

“Of course you don’t,” she chuckles, straightening up and tilting her chin up.

“You always do that,” he points out. “Pretend you're better than me. It’s obvious you hate me when I’ve been nothing but friendly.”

“You’re not my friend. You’re Vikram’s friend. And Karthi’s. I don’t know you. And I know for a fact that I’m better than you,” YN's eyebrow raises in arrogance.

“What makes you so sure?” Harry takes a step towards her.

“Because, Harry Styles, you’re the proverbial whore of the town. I don’t go around screwing everything with a pulse,” she smiles arrogantly at him.

“How did you come upon this piece of information?” He asks her.

“News travels fast, especially with handmaidens. So, that’s why it’s funny. Your father practises self-restraint and you are on a mission to contract a venereal disease.”

“Sounds like someone’s projecting,” he says, voice laced with honey.

“I’m not projecting anything.”

“Sounds like what you’re saying is that you’re jealous that I have the confidence to partake in intercourse and you’re a bumbling virgin-“

“I’ve read all of the volumes of the Kamasutra. I know my way around when I need to engage in coitus for reproduction,” she cuts him off.

“Oh, sweet sweet Princess,” he whispers, using her title condescendingly. “Sex is more than just reproduction.” He strides towards her.

“It is. That’s what the textbook says: It's a womanly duty to service the man and bear his children. It’s sacred,” she insists, taking a step back.

“I’m surprised for someone with such progressive morals… Your view on pleasure seems archaic,” he takes a step toward her again.

“Books do not lie, spy. They have the whole truth.” She steps back again, bumping into the edge of her teakwood desk, trapping herself.

“What do your precious books say about the way your body sparkles when you reach a satisfying end?” He goads, taking a final step forward and invading her personal space.

“You are forbidden to come this close to me, Harry.” Y/N reminds him in futility. Feeling his hard chest against her, thighs rubbing up against him, she can feel his hard muscles straining against her and his warmth radiate, crawling its way into her skin.

“Call out to the guards then,” he reminds her, dropping his head down to nose at her temple.

“I will,” her voice is feeble. “You’ll be cut into pieces and thrown in the ocean.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he smirks, as his lips circuit down the shell of her ear. “I don’t see you telling me to stop.” His tongue laves at her lobe, teeth coming to clamp down gently and tug.

Y/N squeaks feeling his action go down straight to her core. “I know how to defend myself.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second.” He stops, pulling back to look at her. “You don’t need to fight me,” his voice rings with sincerity. “Just tell me to stop and I will, Y/N.” He looks at her, searching her face for an answer.

“What else?” She murmurs, after a few moments, looking up into his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“What else? Things that haven’t been mentioned in books,” she clarifies.

His eyes shine with mischief as he simpers, dimples dazzling. “Where do I start, Y/N…” he trails off, fully pressing himself against her chest. God, she’s so responsive, he marvels at the way her chest heaves against his, heart stammering a staccato against his own racing heart. She’s soft and warm and she smells heavenly. His lips find its way to the base of her jaw, dragging up and leaving open mouth kisses on her smooth skin. “When you find someone desirable, you feel the heat pool in your belly and spread like wildfire across every nerve ending of your body.” He kisses her cheek, a hand going to intertwine with hers.

“Have you felt that?” He asks, feeling hot puffs of her breath against his neck. Y/N shakes her head. “It’s not very noble to lie, Princess,” he whispers, lips moving against the column of her throat. “I see the way you fuck me with your eyes.”

“I do not-“ her voice cuts off as Harry suckles on her jugular, feeling her hammering pulse underneath his lips. She lets out a whimper that goes straight to his fattening cock. Y/N’s mouth falls open dragging in breaths of fresh air, her free hand bracing against the desk to hold herself upright. “I do not fuck you with my eyes.”

“Really?” He says popping off, his calloused fingers come to caress the agitated spot. He was careful not to leave a hickey but he loved the way her skin turned a baby pink in response to his ministrations. “I guess I must have imagined all those times you looked me up and down?”

“I guess you did, Harry,” her chest heaves as she tries to maintain composure. It wasn’t right to be doing this with Harry. It wasn’t right to be doing this with anyone outside the sanctity of a marital bed but it’s exhilarating, breaking rules. She’s not sure if it’s Harry or it’s just the thrill of doing something that might get her in trouble with her parents. They trust her. Trusted her enough to let her move out of the capital and to the port town with her grandmother because she wishes to live by the beach. And here she was enjoying herself with a plebian. A foreigner. A spy. She met him when she was eighteen as her brother’s friend and he was handsome. Chocolate brown curls, smatter of freckles on the bridge of his nose, a perfect smile, dimples, and an alluring set of mossy green irises. She’s heard stories and rumours of his sexual escapades and as much as she detested hearing those stories, she detested the fact that she’s been comparing the princes who had come to ask for her hand in marriage to him. But all she could think of was how strong his arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer to him.

“Stubborn,” he smirks up. “See what you do to me?” He presses his hard cock against her pelvic bone, watching the way her eyes darken as she realises, the sight smirk of hers doesn't go unnoticed by him. “You’ve been driving me insane since the day I saw you on your eighteenth birthday. Went back to my quarters and touched myself to the thought of you,” he confesses. “You’ve been in my dreams ever since.” He cups her cheek, thumb moving back and forth across her lips.

“Are you going to kiss me, Harry?” She asks, looking up at him.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” He questions.

She shakes her head. “My handmaidens have kissed the people who were courting them. They told me how to do it and helped me practise on fruit.”

“That so?” He smiles, lips ghosting her Cupid’s bow. “You know kissing is pretty easy, Y/N,” he declares. “But it’s also powerful” he tells her, lips moving against hers. “‘A kiss may ruin a human life.’”

“Oscar Wilde,” she says, recognising his quote, surprised by his knowledge of poetry. She gets on her toes, pulling her intertwined hand out of Harry’s, and running it down his chest, she can feel the way his muscles ripple underneath the fabric of his shirt. Her chest heaves, belly clenching in anticipation as he lowers tilts his head to the side, noses squished and her mouth opens in anticipation.

He presses his forehead against hers savouring the moment. “And I’m sure that if I start kissing you now, Princess… I might never be able to stop,” he tells her, breathing in her intoxicating sweet floral scent. He concedes by kissing her eyelids and he’s fighting the urge to not run his hands down her body and up her thighs to see if she’s wet for him, but he steps away wanting to be respectful.

Y/N can’t hide the disappointment in her face when backs away from her. His hands come to cup her cheeks, smearing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Never met anyone who has me on a chokehold, Y/N,” he confesses. “I shall bid my goodbye.” He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses her palm, pressing it to his cheek.

“See you Harry,” she smiles. “You’ll be given the scroll at the docks at noon five days from now,” she informs, standing upright; snapping back into the person she was before being pushed up against the desk by Harry.

“Princess Y/N,” he bows, popping a piece of jujube in his mouth before making his way to her balcony. He gives her a salute one last time before climbing down the tower during forbidden hours, like he always does. But this time, he’s rappelling down the side of the stone structure with butterflies in his tummy.

part two

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!

[lxnababy]

II. THE ESCAPE

read part one HERE

wc: 5.4k

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II. THE ESCAPE.

Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at two dresses sprawled out on her bed. One was bright red—a shade Charlotte would never choose for herself, the bold color matching how short and low-cut it was. It didn’t have many embellishments, just a tightening fabric she knew would be extremely difficult to breathe in.

The other was her choice, a navy blue mini dress that had the tiniest slit in a khaki material. It was strapless with a zipper running up her back she knew would be nearly impossible to zip herself, the material stiff and unforgiving. It matched perfectly with the diamonds she bought herself (retail therapy after Harry rejected her) and she knew it would anger her manager.

With a soft smirk, she slipped the material over her body, reaching her arm around to tug the zipper up and huffing in frustration. Has she gained weight? She’d worn this dress before with no issue.

Her eyes widened at the horrifying thought—her manager would check her weight over the weekend, and certainly a glutinous meal with her stuck-up date wouldn’t help her. Charlotte’s hands began to shake; she did eat the candy Harry gave her, not bothering to check the calories before she did.

She pushed off the dress, walking over to her closet. Tears were forming in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall and ruin the black smokey eyeliner she painted on just minutes before. “Fuck!” She yelled angrily, ripping through every dress she had in her possession. She knew nothing would look good on her tonight—should she cancel?

Of course, this date was complete bullshit. Her manager thought she had stepped from the limelight for a bit too long and set up a date with a well-known actor, though the stories she’d heard about him were unsavory at best.

Standing in her cotton undies, her hair tumbling down her back, she crossed her arms and surveyed her closet. Nothing. Letting out a strangled grunt, she picked up the pretty navy dress she’d been thinking of all day and threw it at the wall, knocking over a lamp by her nightstand in the process.

Almost immediately, she heard her door whip open. Charlotte squealed at the intrusion, throwing her arms over her exposed breasts before Harry could look at her. “Shit, sorry, I thought you were getting mauled or something.” Harry threw his hands over his eyes.

She frowned softly, not bothering to grab a sweater to cover herself up—it’s nothing he hadn’t seen before. “No, I just… can’t find something to wear. I gained weight, I don’t fit in anything,” Charlotte sounded genuinely distraught, eyes watering once more as she stared at the navy dress in betrayal.

Harry sighed. She was far more complicated than any tabloid could possibly process, he swore only he understood her fully. And it was useless; he couldn’t have her. “Char, let me help zip you up. I’m positive you haven’t gained weight,” he discreetly tucked his gun back in his waistband—he heard a crash, it could’ve been Charlotte in trouble.

Charlotte nodded pathetically. “I don’t even wanna go, Harry,” she whined, almost hoping Harry would help her disappear. She knew he wouldn’t, though. His loyalty is with her manager. 

Harry gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to go, either. He’d have to sit alone at a table nearby, watching Charlotte schmooze with a random asshole who didn’t understand how lucky he was. He’d fucking kill to be in that actor’s place tonight. “It’ll be quick,” he offered softly, walking over to her dress and picking it up. “Here, step into it.”

Charlotte complied, her cheek grazing his shoulder as she bent down to step into the dress Harry was holding open for her. He was so close she could smell his cologne—it smelled like that lazy morning she dreamt about every night. She squeezed her eyes shut. He rejected her, she needed to move on. She was moving on.

“Please don’t tell me it won’t zip,” Charlotte gathered her hair in her hands as Harry squeezed her dress together. Every drag of his fingertips against her bare back was pure torture; she jumped every time only to melt into the sinful touch.

He was equally as tortured, every inch of zipper that slid up making his stomach twist. When he pulled it all the way up and tugged it for good measure, he stepped back. “No need to worry, princess. It’s all good now,” he offered, rubbing her shoulders.

Charlotte nodded, slightly embarrassed at her outburst. “Thanks, Harry,” she said quietly, her eyes darting around the room to focus on anything but him. On anything but the way his muscles strained against his halfway-buttoned dress shirt, or how the curls on the nape of his neck curled into the collar of his shirt, or how the bottom had become untucked and showed a sliver of exposed tattoos just above his hips.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Charlotte. You know I only want the best for you,” Harry confessed quietly, trying desperately to meet her gaze despite Charlotte being so unwilling. “You know that, Char,” he repeated.

Charlotte blinked back tears—she seemed to do that often. “I know,” she agreed. “This isn’t the best for me, though. I’m miserable,”

Harry rolled his neck. “You’re safe, though,” he argued. “I can only keep you safe like this.”

She nodded curtly. “There’s other options, Harry. You’re making excuses. And it’s fine, but don’t act like you’re only doing this for my betterment.” Her tone was cutting, her eyes finally meeting him. There was a rage there he’d never seen before—heartbreak. “I have to finish getting ready,”

Her gaze flickered to the door. Harry nodded.

—

Harry was going to kill him. Harry was going to take the steak knife off the ridiculously expensive marble table and slice his throat open if he touched Charlotte one more time. She was laughing far too loudly at his jokes, her fingers brushing the hem of his shirt sleeve far too often.

And Harry could admit, the man was beautiful. Harry truly didn’t stand a chance. He sat there, wallowing in pity, remembering every moment Charlotte looked at him like that. He could count those times on his fingers, and it made him sick. He wanted her to only look at him like that—instead she gave him a cold, lifeless stare.

But when the man offered Charlotte over to his place for a nightcap, Harry lost all semblance of control. He stood up abruptly, his chair squeaking loudly against the hardwood at the disruption, and marched over to Charlotte’s table. “Ready to go?” Harry asked, his tone demanding and barely a question.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “No, I’m having fun,” she snapped, tilting her chin.

He knew it was bullshit. He knew she’d rather be anywhere else than on this date with paparazzi exploiting their every move, but apparently ‘anywhere else’ meant anywhere that didn’t include Harry.

“Charlotte, it’s time to go,” Harry glared at her, his fingers curling around the back of Charlotte’s chair with a white-knuckled grip. “C’mon,” he nodded at the actor across the table, though the man didn’t budge.

Charlotte looked up at Harry, her hands falling into her lap in defeat. She was faced with two options—pretend she liked the shitty actor and move on, or fall back in her wallowing state of Harry obsession. And neither would bring her happiness, she knew that. “You seriously let him control you like that?” The actor nodded to Harry, who was looming above her.

She chewed on her pouty lip, her head spinning. “Control? You think I’m controlling, Char?” Harry asked, crossing his arms and tugging at the sleeves of his black dress shirt.

“I’m gonna go,” Charlotte finally decided, pushing the chair back and letting it screech loudly across the hardwood. “It was lovely to meet you, though.”

She saw the pride inflate Harry’s chest as she stepped back into his space, leaning close to him. “I’m sure the tabloids will love this,” the man smirked from the table. Charlotte stiffened, but refused to turn back and face him. Tabloids. He’d spill. He’d spill every inch of their date to the highest bidder—how her bodyguard was staring at them with jealous rage, how Charlotte stayed silent, barely asking questions, how he whisked her away. Her manager would kill her. Kill them.

It was a quiet walk to the car, though midway through Charlotte began to tear up, mascara falling in fat drops down her cheeks. Harry didn’t say anything—she prayed he’d never speak to her again. He opened the front door for her, picking her up to drop her into the seat, not daring to look in her eyes.

Charlotte sighed softly, pressing her fingers into the navy skirt of her dress. He climbed into the driver’s seat, staying silent as he started to drive. The tension was heavy and Charlotte was trying to calm herself down; she couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop thinking of how screwed up her life has become.

A loud ringing from Charlotte’s phone interrupted her, and she furrowed her eyebrows, seeing her manager’s name across the screen. “Hi, Eric,” she said, her voice a slight squeak, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Harry peeked over at her, watching her face change. “Charlotte, why am I getting nasty calls from the most famous young CEO in Los Angeles saying you were unladylike and rude?”

Silent tears fell harder. “I’m unsure. I thought it went well,” Charlotte lied, looking out the window and covering her mouth with her hand so Eric couldn’t hear her cry. “Plus, aren’t I meeting a prince or something?”

She could hear Eric huff in annoyance, and blinked hard. “If your reputation is ruined from this, we will have to rethink your future. See you later,” Eric hung up before Charlotte could protest.

She crumpled into the seat, making herself small as she stared out the window. Harry was quiet, but she was happy he wasn’t speaking to her. She didn’t want to hear how he was only trying to help her, how he just wanted her safe. She’d rather feel free than safe, why couldn’t Harry understand that?

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly. “I’m so sorry, princess.”

Charlotte glared at him, shaking her head. “Yeah,” she said quietly, brushing him off.

He cleared his throat, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Did you ever really want this life?” Harry was curious, and Charlotte wiped her eyes as she shrugged, watching as the streets became familiar and the garage Harry always parked in sat at the edge of two streets.

��I love modeling,” she said quietly. “I love showing off new clothes and being ahead of trends, I love seeing behind the scenes. This just got so out of hand,” she shook her head, then looked up and met Harry’s eyes.

It was the most they spoke since that fateful night, but she didn’t get her hopes up. Harry’s loyalties lied with Eric, she had to keep reminding herself. “What would you do if you never met Eric?” He asked, but Charlotte didn’t want to answer.

She waited until he put the car in park before replying. “Why would I think of that if I can’t change where I am now?” Charlotte asked, her honey blonde hair falling into her face as she pushed open the door. She didn’t want to talk to him anymore—this wasn’t the Harry that gave her a care basket or held onto her all morning. This was her reserved, curious bodyguard.

Charlotte climbed into bed barely an hour later, her hair tied into a braid, her pajamas barely covering her body as she spent the night looking at pictures of other models. She showed up in almost every group photo, but she refused to look at herself—she’d only make herself sick.

What would have happened if she never met Eric?

She couldn’t sleep. It kept her up, tossing and turning. She wouldn’t have the financial stability or the exciting, party girl life. She wouldn’t be able to live her dream dressing in frilly dresses and meeting the most creative minds in the world, but she also wouldn’t be under constant surveillance. Maybe she would be able to keep a boyfriend, maybe she would be one of those simple girls who were happy with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and stable job.

Maybe she wouldn’t hate herself so much.

—

Harry noticed her decline. Charlotte would trudge out of bed, ate much less and became extremely thin; it didn’t help that every tabloid enjoyed her body now, only feeding into Charlotte’s mental health decline. She would only speak to Harry if it was business-related, and only seemed happy when someone was recording.

Eric was excited to introduce her to the royal family overseas, though had informed Harry he was still working out the details and couldn’t let anyone else know. It made Harry sick, thinking he wouldn’t be able to live in the same apartment as her, the same city as her. He wouldn’t be able to keep her safe or feel her presence even if their relationship was hostile. It was like Harry was living in a never-ending hell.

This morning was no different than the rest, other than the fact Charlotte’s morning was oddly empty from obligations. “Hi,” she said softly, and Harry nodded at her. She was more quiet than the rest of the mornings, which made his eyebrows furrow. Her shaking hands were clanging around the kitchen loudly, which made Harry speak up.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He asked. His voice made her whip around and huff loudly.

“Have you seen the news this morning?” Charlotte shot back, crossing her arms as her voice wavered loudly. Harry shook his head, going to grab his phone. “They released the photos,” her voice was barely louder than a whisper as she admitted her horror. “My breasts are everywhere.”

Harry immediately stood up and opened his arms. Without thinking or hesitation, Charlotte rushed into them, squeezing him as her head buried in his chest, his shirt becoming wet from her tears. “I am so, so sorry, Char,” he rubbed the back of her neck, his other arm holding her tight against him.

“I just want to run away,” she whispered, looking up from his chest and meeting Harry’s eyes. “I can’t live here anymore. With Eric,”

Harry took a deep breath, his mind going blank as his mouth began to move. “I’ll run away with you,” he said gently, his finger caressing the underside of her chin. “If that’s what you really want.”

“I really want that, Harry,” she said strongly. “Living in the countryside away from everyone. Please?” Charlotte tugged on the hem of his shirt in nervous excitement. “At least long enough to get Eric off our back,”

Harry threw his head back. He’d have a massive target on his back if he helped Charlotte escape. But Charlotte. The girl who haunted his dreams, the girl who engulfed every one of his waking moments. “It doesn’t have to be forever. But I want you with me,” she looked up at him, her eyes filled with heartbreak and soft pleading. He would do anything for her, truly, she didn’t even know the extent of his feelings.

“Let’s start packing, then,” Harry squeezed her hips, trying not to think of the reckless decision they were making.

—

Charlotte began to shiver the farther from Los Angeles they got. They were now in northern California, wildlife surrounding the long strip of road ahead of them. Harry was quiet, and they were listening to soft music in silence. She already had five missed calls from Eric, but Harry didn’t seem bothered.

She looked over her bodyguard, frowning. He didn’t seem happy to take her, but Charlotte never forced him to join her. “How far out are we, H?” She asked, turning in her seat to face him. He was wearing sunglasses, one of his hands playing with his lips, the other on the wheel, dressed in his usual all black. He looked so handsome and he wasn’t even trying.

“Not too much longer,” he said softly. “Are you feeling alright?” He turned to her for a second, and Charlotte nodded. She reached for his hand, upset he hadn’t touched her once since they got in the car.

He immediately let her pull it into her lap—he didn’t have to stifle his feelings now, right? They were in the middle of nowhere; romance didn’t matter, right? He was sure Charlotte was thinking similar things, but he knew he broke her heart beyond repair. He would have to fix this, he knows. “I hope the house has a garden,” Charlotte blurted out randomly. “I’ve always wanted a garden.”

Harry couldn’t stop a soft smile from blooming on his face. Of course he knows she wants a garden. Of course he got a house with a quaint but well-kept garden out front. “I hope so, too,” he lied, squeezing the fleece material of her sweatpants as he kept driving.

Charlotte squealed when she saw the garden, spilling out of the car and rushing to the blooming flowers. Harry was following with their bags in his hands, grinning at her happily. “I want to stay here forever,” Charlotte grinned. “And we’re near the beach! Harry, this is lovely,”

Harry didn’t respond, but started placing her bags in her bedroom. “Thank you for coming with me,” she stopped Harry from working for a moment, placing her hand on his arm and furrowing her eyebrows. “You know I can’t do anything without you.”

He shivered when he touched her, placing his hands on her waist. “You know I will do anything to keep you safe, Char. I didn’t… mean for my mission to get so complicated.” He looked deep into her eyes, hoping she’d see the sincerity in his.

Charlotte nodded quietly, looking away from his intense eye contact for a moment. He didn’t like that she was looking away, and moved her chin back to him. “This whole situation is so complicated,” he said softly.

“But it’s not, though,” Charlotte argued weakly, meeting his gaze as hers became fiery. He loved that about her; she fought for him. “I just need to know how you feel, and I’ll leave you alone.” She crossed her arms, though she was so close to him every part of her body was pressed against his and had her almost fainting. But she stood her ground anyway.

Harry frowned. “You know how I feel about you—”

“Clearly I don’t, Harry! I think about that night every second of every day because it was the only time I’ve ever been with someone who treated me well. I hate living with you because I can’t escape you, and you don’t seem to care about me or that night.” Charlotte started to cry, angry tears spilling over her bright eyes, though she stood her ground. She didn’t step away from his intoxicating presence—she couldn’t.

“I love you so much I had to choose your safety over my feelings, Charlotte.” His confession made her step back, her head spinning. “Do you think it’s easy for me to watch you go on dates with shitty men knowing I can treat you better? I live down the fucking hall from you and can’t have you!”

“Who says you can’t have me?”

They both went quiet, breathing heavily. Night had fallen, but neither of them bothered to turn on the light. The windows were open, the curtains billowing and projecting pale moonlight into the bedroom Harry was unpacking her belongings into. Charlotte couldn’t say anything; she couldn’t absorb his words fast enough.

“I think you should go to bed,” his voice was venomous, and Charlotte backed up, tears falling more freely now that she was soaked in his final rejection. “I just… I can’t see you—”

“How can you say you love me, then?” Charlotte asked, voice breaking. He shook his head, bidding her a curt goodnight before closing the door and leaving her alone.

She stared at where he once was for a long time, crying. She would let him break her heart as many times as he wanted—she would always want him, she realized. She was pathetic, letting him ruin her over and over.

Charlotte couldn’t sleep, and started to get angry once more. She wanted to hurt Harry right back. Shrouded by heartbreak, she slipped on a pair of slippers and opened the door to her bedroom, slipping outside and looking at the ajar door of Harry’s bedroom, where she assumed he was sleeping lightly, and walked by it to get to the kitchen, opening the back door as quietly as possible.

She climbed through the wilderness to find a sandy beach not far from the house they were staying at, and sat down in the sand. The night was clear and a bit cool—she thanked herself for putting on a thick sweater before leaving—the tide high and the waves crashing just a few feet from where she was sitting. It was the definition of peaceful, and she was able to forget everything about her complicated relationship and the foreign town she now resides in.

She laid in the sand, staring at the stars as she lost track of time. Her honey hair was fanned around her in a crown, her fingers tucked underneath the hem of her wool sweater to keep them warm.

“Charlotte, Jesus fucking Christ!” Harry yelled angrily, sprinting towards the beach. “Why did you do that?”

Charlotte whipped around, furrowing her eyebrows. “Do what?” She faked innocence.

He glared at her, stopping to sit in the sand beside her. He was in a similar sweater to her, his hair a mess like he had just woken up. “You did this on purpose. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw your bed empty,”

She looked back at the water, her eyes distant. “Just needed some fresh air,” she said simply, and he huffed out a hard sigh.

“You’re going to kill me,” he mumbled, his shoulder brushing hers. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t look at him. She refused to look up at him, she didn’t want to feel her heart break again. “Princess, look at me,” he said gently, his voice breaking.

Charlotte complied, her eyes watering. “I don’t think we’d ever work, anyway,” she reasoned, watching his eyes widen and his mouth fall ajar. She cringed at her own words; she wished they would. She wished she didn’t have to date by wealth or be followed by a manager who loved to shove her in dangerous situations. She wished she could just be with Harry, she wished she could walk around the grocery store or eat dinner at a shitty diner. She wanted to do normal people things, especially with him.

“I want to make it work,” Harry was quiet, digging his feet in the sand and staring at the tattoos littering his thighs as his shorts were bunched up high on his legs.

Charlotte sighed. “I think we either… make it work or never see each other again.” She said, her tone laced with finality. They both looked at each other, Charlotte twisting her lips into her mouth while Harry played with the sand, both nervous.

“I can’t not see you,” Harry said, eyes hardening. Charlotte blushed, shaking her head. “I’m serious, Charlotte.”

“What changed?” She asked. “A few hours ago you made it seem like you didn’t want me.”

“I realized I can’t live without you,” he said simply.

She can’t remember kissing him or who leaned in first, but her lips were on his. It was gentle and heavenly, the moon bright on their bodies, illuminating them. He pushed her back down onto the sand, pinning her hands above her head as the tide tickled their feet. They were both covered in sand, though neither of them seemed to notice or care.

Charlotte gasped as he nipped at her throat, sucking at the skin and groaning as her back arched into his body. She let him bunch her thick sweater around her chest, exposing her to the cool night sky, her nipples pebbling against the breeze.

Harry seemed to pause, the breath knocked out of him as he stared at his girl, open and waiting for him. She wiggled uncomfortably, and Harry hummed playfully. “This is better than my dreams,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her belly as he tugged at the hem of her sleep shorts. “Can I, baby? Let me see?”

She shivered at his pleading tone, nodding excessively. “Yes, yes, please, H,” she whimpered.

Harry guessed he deserved that nickname again.

He pushed her shorts down, pulling her undies to the side. She gasped at the cold air hitting her heat. He pushed her legs open, his hands exploring her legs as he tried to warm her up as goosebumps erupted on her skin. “Please, Harry,” she whispered, closing her legs before opening them to try and find some sort of relief.

He ducked down, pressing the softest of kisses to her clit. She jumped, her body bouncing back as she covered her mouth with her hand, not wanting to disturb the serenity of the quiet beach. She could barely spare a glance down at Harry—the surf crashing against the sand behind her bodyguard who was unraveled with hungry eyes was almost too much to bear.

His long hair was tied back, but she pushed her fingers through his curls to hold some semblance of control. He pushed his tongue through her folds, his eyes holding onto hers as he puckered his lips over her. Her jaw dropped and her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to hold onto his eye contact.

The feeling was ethereal. Harry was groaning against her like this was his first drink of water after days of drought, his hands holding her hips down into the sand to stop her from squirming. “Harry,” Charlotte whispered, unable to say anything other than his name. “H, want to f-feel you—fuck,” she dropped her head into the sand, her legs going lax as her body struggled to comprehend the pleasure.

“You are feeling me, baby,” Harry pulled away slightly, his mouth dripping in her arousal. Charlotte whined out at his teasing, though it quickly turned to gasps when he dove back into her, pressing wet kisses to her clit before climbing up her body. “You wanna feel more of me?” He hummed, watching as she nodded mindlessly, her eyes closing in a daze. “Say it,”

Charlotte started to shiver as she looked up at him, concentrating on his features. “Please, please want you to fuck me,” she whispered, her hands climbing up his chest to squeeze his shoulders, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

Harry seemed lost in her for a moment, looking possessed as he leaned down to kiss her tenderly before pushing her thighs up to her chest and pushed his boxer briefs down his legs. She was so wet from his mouth and her arousal he could practically feel her welcoming him in. “I love you,” his voice was gruff, his eyes wild as he pushed into her. She gasped out at the intrusion, gripping his sweater.

“I love you,” she whispered back, feeling equally as wild. “I don’t want you to leave.” Charlotte’s nose nudged against his, forcing herself to stare at him despite the feeling of his soft thrusts wanting her to collapse against the sand, sandwiched between her bodyguard and the earth.

“I won’t, Char,” he held her close to him, almost like he was afraid she’d wither away in his arms.

They fell into a mess of moans and whimpers as he picked up the pace, trying to show her how he’d always take care of her. He was pushing into her at a damning place, his thumb brutally touching her clit, placing harsh and unrelenting pressure against it. Charlotte could feel herself slipping away as he manhandled her, a smile playing on her face as he showed her how hard he loved her.

“That feels good, princess?” Harry smirked breathlessly. “Is my baby smiling because she knows she has someone who would kill for her?”

Charlotte threw her head back as he tweaked her nipple. “Mhm,” she managed to cry out, squeezing her legs around him tighter. She had seen Harry in action before, and he had the same unhinged look on his face now. He was uncontrollable, almost animal-like. 

Without thinking much, she took his hand from her belly, bringing it to her neck and encouraging him to squeeze it. His eyes dilated and his hand wrapping around her petite neck easily. She opened her mouth in a soft whimper, arching her back as he picked his face, the cold water tickling their legs as the tide seemed to rise.

“G-gonna cum,” she looked up at him, her voice hoarse from the pressure on her throat. “H, please,” Harry used his free hand to rub her clit, his hips stuttering as he tightened his grip on her windpipe. They both released together, Harry dropping his head to her chest as euphoria filled his head, his hands holding her hips and rubbing soothing circles on the skin there.

They laid in silence for a few moments, until Isa played with his hair and tilted his chin up to look at her. “The water is freezing,” she said quietly, studying his beautiful, fucked out face. She loved him. A lot. “And my back hurts.” She added in a teasing tone.

“We can’t have that,” he hummed, kissing her jaw and pulling them both up from the sand. He scooped her up, watching as she buried her head in his chest as he started walking across the beach, stepping into the woods beyond it as he spotted the small cottage.

“We should live here forever,” Charlotte said dreamily as Harry fumbled to unlock the back door. “It has a garden and there’s no Eric and you’re here.”

Harry kicked the door shut behind him, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “That sounds perfect, Char,” he smiled, carrying her to his bedroom and dropping her onto the bed before following behind her quickly. He kissed her jaw before flopping beside her. “We’re gonna get sand in my bed.” He groaned, and she lulled her head over to face him.

“Too sleepy to shower. Tomorrow,” she mumbled, her eyes closing before fluttering open and repeating itself. Harry pushed strands of hair out of her face, his thumb pressing against her cheek. 

Even long after she fell asleep, Harry laid awake, admiring her. The way the moonlight fell over the coves of her face, how her hair fell behind her in sandy waves, how her arms wrapped around one of his, cuddling with his bicep. She was a proper angel, he was so lucky she had forgiven him and given him another chance.

He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to miss a chance to protect her, but his body was exhausted and he felt himself drifting away.

—

Harry woke up to an empty bed. He shot up, eyes widening as he felt around for Charlotte, though she wasn’t there. No one was there.

He quickly grabbed his gun and whipped open the bedroom door, eyes wild and fear constricting in his chest as he checked her bedroom to see it untouched. Then he checked the kitchen. It was eerily quiet in the cottage, and Charlotte was nowhere in sight.

He took a deep, shaky breath. “Char?” Harry called out, opening the front door.

She wouldn’t just leave. Harry knew that. Charlotte didn’t have anywhere to go—he drove her to the middle of northern California, he fell asleep with her tight in his arms. “Charlotte?” He called again to no avail.

Panic rose in his throat as he immediately tried calling her, though it went straight to voicemail each time. This was Harry’s worst nightmare, flashes of last night burning in his brain. He didn’t want to sleep because he was afraid she’d disappear. He called her phone again and again, then went to see if her clothes were still unpacked in the closet.

Everything was untouched, like Charlotte never lived there. He lost her.

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

can you give us a look into the future for princess!yn x guard!harry?? like them as a married couple w kids omgggg🫣

OMG CUTEEEEEEE

I feel like princess y/n would pull a Prince Harry and leave the royal family

So her and Harry are finally on their own without y/n’s mother putting her every opinion in their relationship

And omg maybe they have a little boy and a little girl ☹️

So cute plz

WAIT WAIT WAIT :(((

Okay imagine y/n not being able to get into certain little hobbies or things she wanted to learn since her mom said it “wasn’t her job” and “that’s what the help is for”

So harry teaches y/n how to cook and bake :(

And after about a month of him teaching her how to cook she surprises him with homemade dinner when he gets back home

And he’s so proud of her “you did this all yourself? I’m so proud of you. It looks amazing, darling”

An she teaches her how to bake

And then the thing he doesn’t know how to do that she wants to learn they get to do together

So maybe they take a few classes together on art or sewing, random things like that

And she would get so excited about the little things

Getting to decorate her own house

And just getting to be her own person

And she is so grateful to have Harry by her side to show her everything

And she gets to try all different food and learn so many different things since her mother was so strict

And once they start having babies she is so set on parenting completely different than her mother parented her

And she’s so excited to have babies with him and have the life she always pictured

And Harry would be so excited too omg like making a vision board for the nursery plz

Okay that’s all the thoughts I have and Ik it was probably short and boring so I’m sorry

If you have anything else you want me to talk abt or any thoughts lmk :))))

[theghostinyourwalls]

Do the sexy face babe 🤤

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Villain!Ghost x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Your husband wants your company..

A/n: GUYS OMG, I know it's been 1 month and a little more since my last official work. I've been procrastinating on this for so long since I only have less than a week till school again.. Also everyone I love on this app is just disappearing, like @ghost-cyphera just deleted her account 4 days ago and I got the notif but didn't see it in time, I didn't even get to say goodbye. Just wanted to apologize to you guys after being gone for so long as well. Also, another villain!Ghost drabble? 👀

Finding it difficult to walk was one of the least things you've suspected you'd be concerned of upon conceiving, always needing your handmaiden's help in such a mundane task was shameful to say the least but your husband insisted.

If it hadn't been the hand maiden then it would've been him instead, you couldn't keep him from his duties from the kingdom as he carried even yours. Wanting you to turn your attention to the health of the babe growing in you and especially yourself..

"My lady.." you were pulled out of your thoughts by the voice of your handmaiden. You took in a breath from the cool air that blew on your face as you stood by the stone railing..

"Yes, Leticia?" You turned to her..

"The prince consort has requested your company.." Leticia announced, you nod as you removed your hand from the cold stone. You glanced once more to the people of your kingdom, going about their day and life before gently lifting yourself off from leaning on the stone.

Leticia offered you her arm to help you walk more efficiently..

...

"You sent for me..?" You asked your husband, he was sat and signing another set of documents and scrolls. You closed the door, palms gently pushing till you heard it click.

"No, I told them to announce my arrival to you. How dare they exert my wife by giving her false instructions.." he huffed to which you laughed. He wouldn't do anything violent about it, as he so usually does with staff that don't comply but he knew it'd upset you if anything gory were to happen to them.

"I am quite alright, I need to move around too. It's proven to be good for our child." You said, sitting next to the graciously comfortable chair next to his working desk that he had someone make for you.

You felt relief from the pressure previously on your back, hand on the bump of your stomach and with that a sigh came from your lips. Peacefully watching your husband, the sound of the satisfying scratching of the quill on the crisp papers.

You felt his hand grasp yours, he pulled it, lips resting on the back. His affection made your heart beat faster and he felt it, the pad of his index finger on your wrist. The thumping made him chuckle as you smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

"You should rest for a while, my love. You'd work yourself to sickness at this point." You kiss his cheek softly. He put his quill down, "If that's my wife wants.." he said.

He wrapped his arm around you, the other hand placed on your baby bump. His thumb gently rubbing, you jolted a bit feeling a strong kick..

It made you groan, how restless the rascal is. Your husband adjusted his hand to feel the next kick.. he'd swear it was a girl, not that he'd care for that sort of thing. He'd kill for them either way, especially for you. He could stare at you all day, swollen with his child.

How glowing you looked wrapped in the finest silk and the gold and jewels in your hair and body clicking upon contact with another piece, he wished he could tell you how utterly speechless you'd leave each man by just walking passed them but to him no word is enough to describe you.

At least he could spend these small intimate moments with just you and you alone, free of the world for even just a few minutes as he needed a break from the work he very much was eager to do to be able to receive praise from his wife..

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo @duck-a-doodle

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Sacrificial Bride

Yandere Dragon Shifter x Princess Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, manipulation, Somniaphilia (suggested), delusional yandede, complacency, etc.

Feroc the Ferocious was the kind of dragon who would bring any silly knight to their knees. The kind of dragon that inspired legends and stories to be written in books. The kind of dragon that was larger than any castle human like could ever dream to build. The kind of dragon that could decimate a kingdom with a single breath of his fiery flames if he was angered… the dragon that your own people sacrificed you, the princess, to in order to save themselves from his wrath.

And so they bound you up and threw you before him. Your own father on his knees as he begged the great dragon for mercy in exchange for his own flesh and blood… the kingdom’s most prized beauty in exchange for peace. An offer Feroc quickly accepted before the king could utter another word!

Dragons collected beautiful treasures! Dragons hoarded their treasure in caves and abandoned castles fad from prying eyes… and unbeknownst to you, Feroc found you to be rhetorical most beautiful

For dragons, a sacrificial spouse was an ancient tradition and this was the first time he’d been offered such a perfect bride! How could he refuse you? Especially when your own people begged him so prettily? Would you beg for him just as beautifully one day?

And so you were scooped up in his ginormous talons and carried away in the sky to a lone tower deep in the mountains. Your new home… your home with Feroc.

You could recall how scared of him you used to be. You’d heard from many people of how this giant scaled beast before you was a man eater. Of how he swallowed many knights in his time… yet this dragon seemed so shy from your experience so far. Skittish even.

Feroc often brought you various jewelry and fine silks from his daily raids. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t bring you a gift of some kind. His molten eagerly studied your form despite his persistent silence. Feroc’s company disturbed you as much as it comforted you.

It took a month for him to speak to you. His accent was heavy from the olden tongue he spoke but he knew the same language you spoke. His voice was booming and low, it could easily strike terror in others… but for some reason, his voice calmed you. Perhaps loneliness has finally crept its fangs into your heart? You weren’t sure…

Feroc would bring you anything you wanted to eat. Within means, of course. He’d bring you delicacies he’d likely looted off some poor caravan if you said you wanted sweets. There was no extremes he wouldn’t go to for you, which was odd since he was a dragon who’s been around for hundred of years… why did Feroc have such an interest in a human princess?

One day, you had a nightmare of a man standing in the corner of your room. Your scream in the night quickly alerted your guardian who peaked his large eye in your room in worry.

“Princess? What’s wrong?”

“I just had a nightmare… I thought there was a man in my room.” You wiped the sweat from your forehead while Feroc clicked his tongue.

“No man could ever scale his tower. I’m the only one who can enter. I’d never let anyone harm you.” The red and black dragon grumbled, his molten eyes glanced you once over. “Why? Do you… want a human companion?”

“I do get lonely sometimes.” You admitted to Feroc . His eyes now filled with hurt. “I do enjoy your company but… I miss being able to touch another human.”

Feroc didn’t understand your sentiment. He was a might dragon! The strongest of his kind! Feroc has proven himself to be the best of mates to you and yet you were still displeased? Was it because he was a dragon? Would you be happier if he showed you his other form?

“I’ll figure something out then… get some sleep.”

Feroc now snuck in your bedroom when you slept. He ghosted his clawed fingers over your oblivious form in wonder. His clawed fingers were too sharp, he’d have to dull them more… he didn’t want to cut up his pretty princess!

Feroc’s gentle touches progressed when he noticed how heavy of a sleeper you were. His desire to see what made you human drove him to insatiable heights. No area was left unexplored with his eyes. He needed to be perfect. Feroc had to be compatible with you. You and him were going to have young one day, after all! Feroc didn’t want to harm you in the process!

Feroc was able to mold his body into a perfect man. Once that was the perfect size for you, yet still immense so you’d know it was him. Feroc now stood at a massive seven feet tall rather than the hundred feet of his dragon form.

Yet there was a constant fear within him that you’d die of old age or of natural causes… Feroc knew humans were fragile creatures so he did what he had to. Feroc shared half of his heart with you while you slept. It was a simple spell and a painless procedure for you. One that would benefit the both do you in the long run!

If one of you died, the other would! You’d never age! You now shared a lifespan with him. Feroc couldn’t wait to tell you once the two of you made everything official!

It took another month for him to reveal this perfect form to you. Feroc had to let the excitement die down from sharing his heart with you so you didn’t freak out! Humans were such finicky creatures, after all! And he’d be an awful mate if he frightened you with a subject you had no knowledge on…

All you needed was to see this devilishly beautiful form of his and you’d be bewitched.

“Look at us… we’re so beautiful together.” Feroc whispered into the skin of your shoulder as he admired your reflection beside him. “I think I’ll find you more gold to decorate you with, my treasure.”

“Feroc, I don’t understand.” You jump when Feroc dragged his forked tongue across your exposed shoulder.

“You accepted all of my gifts and you’re the only one who suits me.” Feroc hissed his obsidian eyes flashed a bright gold. “Wouldn’t you rather be by my side than in my stomach?”

You gulped and obediently rested your head on his chest which made him purr in contentment. His muscular arms wrapped around yours as his wavy black hair tickled your skin.

“I’m joking, I’d never eat you.” Feroc smiled before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “You’re my bride, after all.”

You didn’t need to know about how many knights he’s killed over the last few months for you. Feroc would take care of you until the day the both of you died. Every heinous act he’s ever committed over these last few months were all for his beautiful, blushing bride.

[viviaj]

toji fuckin u so good that u js go limp <3

TRUEEEEE i have smth inappropriate to say abt this 😵‍💫

with one of his big hands on your hips, toji watches you try to move up and down on his cock. he just smiles at your attempt, a pathetic one, but he thinks it’s cute. “struggling?” he slides his thumb over one of your nipples, watching your body respond to him.

“help me, please,” you’re begging as your hips slide back and forth, just anywhere for a sense of satisfaction.

“you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” he doesn’t look away from you, doesn’t give you the opportunity to hide from him.

toji feels much, much, much better as he’s pounding ur cute hole while you grapple for his arm— or anything to hold on to.

he loves watching you twitch and moan when he changes pace, waiting for you to buck your hips forward for him.

“cmon, princess. be patient,” he taunts. his cock is all consuming. he’s shamelessly watching it disappear into your cunt. you’re reaching for his arm but can’t find it in you to move; the way he’s fucking into you, treating you like this, it’s too much.

“yeah, that’s good. atta’ girl,” your body goes limp when he’s fucking you like this, all control and sense of consciousness disappears so easily with him, “just lay there like that. let me use you.”

and you’re not sure if it’s your far-gone mind, but toji looks like he’s smiling at you.

[sweetteainthesummerx]

wrapped 'round my finger !

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

pairings: quinn hughes x best friend!reader, quinn x sunshine!reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff, smut, fem!reader is described as smaller (shorter?), and swearing.

summary: you're the sweetest thing on planet earth, but you have terrible taste in guys. however, you've got the captain of the canucks wrapped around your pinky. too bad you don't see him that way...right?

trope: best friends to lovers, idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine, whipped boyfriend

word count: 1.3 k

notes: princess treatment is WHAT EVERY GIRL DESERVES!! also I just love quinn hughes :) happy reading!!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

bsf! quinn hughes who absolutely is wrapped around your finger. he loves you so freaking much and he's so in love with you it's all over his face. bo and millsy take turns making fun of him, while petey watches his lovelorn expression with a teasing grin.

bsf! quinn hughes who treats you like a princess: he's always giving you his jacket when you pout because you're cold, even though he already told you to bring a sweater. he's always opening doors, cans of soda before he hands it to you. he grumbles when you flutter your eyelashes at him, but flushes pink anyways and does what you want.

bsf! quinn hughes who doesn't let you lift a finger when you're together. he does everything for you, because you deserve to be taken care of.

bsf! quinn hughes who has to watch you date guy after guy, something sour and heated twisting in his chest because they can't treat you right like he does.

bsf! quinn hughes who finally confesses his love for you after you complain about a guy who left you at the restaurant to pick up a package during your date, because he's so fucking fed up with you being unhappy and the fact he can't kiss you like wants to.

bsf! quinn hughes who kisses you hard and rough as you whine into his mouth and clutch at his shirt while he grips your hips hard enough to leave a bruise.

bsf! quinn hughes who doesn't let you go, instead picking you up and (gently) tossing you on the bed. he crawls up to lick into your mouth one more time before going down on you.

bsf! quinn hughes who's totally a munch, but only for you. he keeps going even after you cum all over his face twice. you're grinding against his nose, as he murmurs "just one more". you're all teary and fucked out, but he pulls two more orgasms from you: one with his fingers and the other with you canting you hips on his thigh.

bsf! quinn hughes who groans and throws his head back when he finally pushes himself into your heat, after you tell him you're on the pill. you feel so much better than his hand during roadies where he moans your name to find release. you claw at his back, grabbing at his biceps as you call his name. he wants to swallow you whole.

bsf! quinn hughes who has dreamed of you on your back in his sheets, your manicured nails scraping his scalp as he ruts into you. the pleasure is almost unbearable, and he shudders all over. he has one forearm above your head to hold his weight, the other pressed on your belly where he can feel himself moving within you.

bsf! quinn hughes who marks up your neck as you whimper and mewl at the overstimulation, trying to wiggle away. he mouths at your pulse, relishing in the way it thumps loud and fast.

bsf! quinn hughes who grunts and almost comes when you lock your legs around his waist, whining for him to fuck you harder. he grabs your chin so you can watch as he lifts one of your knees over his shoulder, both of you rolling your eyes back at the new angle.

bsf! quinn hughes who is enraptured as you come on his cock, crying and pulling him close. he murmurs, "good job, baby. that's it. ride it out". you finally settle down as he rides out your high as long as possible.

bsf! quinn hughes who is still incredibly hard and pent up, but your hole is too sensitive. he's ready to take himself in his hand, except you flip yourself over onto your tummy, tucking your chin over you shoulder with your ass in the air, all tired bedroom eyes and mussed hair. he tells you you're perfect as he fulfills another of his wet dreams. he makes a mess of you, and presses his lips to your spine as he finally releases.

bsf! quinn hughes who holds you close in the shower, as you give slow, languid kisses to his chest.

bsf! quinn hughes who asks you shyly to be his as he cuddles you to sleep from behind. you tell him yes, flipping to shove your face into his neck, hiding your massive grin. he smiles: he finally got the girl.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

bf! quinn hughes who is way more publicly affectionate with you than anyone has seen him be, especially after you guys finally get together.

bf! quinn hughes who becomes so clingy that even his brothers cringe at the way he becomes an absolute baby when you enter the room.

bf! quinn hughes who loves being cooed and fussed over. he loves when you feed him after a long game, eating straight from your fingers as he leans back on the headboard of your shared bed as you sit on his lap, pushing bites of food past his lips.

bf! quinn hughes who is so proudly a loverboy. he always has to have a hand on your back, an arm around your waist or shoulder. petey jokes that his eyes are practically magnetic to you.

bf! quinn hughes who's not that tall - especially since he's surrounded by other bigger hockey players - but you make him feel like the biggest man in the world. you always tuck your tiny hand into the crook of his elbow, clinging to his bicep as the two of you walk in public. he loves how you need to tiptoe and tug him down to kiss him, despite the neck pain.

bf! quinn hughes who loves to toss you around like a ragdoll, safely, of course. he loves to manhandle you: throwing you over his shoulder playfully and slapping your ass as you shriek, swatting his broad back. he picks you up like you weigh nothing to plop you down on the counter to hear you yap as he makes breakfast. you climb him like a tree when there's a spider in your en suite bathroom.

bf! quinn hughes who loves seeing you wear his clothes, because you look so cute drowning in his hoodies. his favourite thing to come back home to is you wrapped up in one of his jersey's - a warm flush pleasant over his skin because you're wearing his last name so proudly - and a home cooked meal after a hard game.

bf! quinn hughes loves to make you laugh, and will talk hours with you even though he has a hard time opening up to anyone else. he also loves listening to you talk, because you're just so kind and good to everyone, and it shows through the loving way you speak.

bf! quinn hughes who loves when you compliment him. a "good job, quinny. you played real good today", or a "thank you for dinner, baby" or even "please don't shave your playoff beard! you look so handsome" gets him all hot and bothered.

bf! quinn hughes who for sure has a captain kink. it's a heat of the moment thing for you, when he's got his face tucked into your neck as he grinds down into you, and you mewl his name along with his title. he stops, and you slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. he tugs it off, teeth scraping at your jaw as he tells you to say it again.

bf! quinn hughes who is bossy - in bed and out - and you love it. you love when he tells you to dress nice for a date to your favourite restaurant, who orders your food for you because he already knows what you want, who tells you to buy something pretty with his credit card because he can spoil you that way.

bf! quinn hughes who just loves you so much!!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[xxsunoosprincess]

hi, can i reqs enha reaction to waking up with their back all scratched up after a long night with their s/o?

back to my regularly scheduled content 😋 absolutely delicious request

Enhypen’s reaction to seeing the marks you left on their back. (OT6)

pairings: enhypen legal line x reader

warnings, 18+, minors DNI, mentions of sex, handjobs, and marking

Heeseung

Shy baby…. doesn’t tell you because he doesn’t want you to feel bad (and also secretly wants you to do it again). When you wake up he is fully dressed and sitting in bed, back facing away from you which is weird. He’s never awake this early and is he watching you sleep?? Can’t pry what’s wrong out of him so you end up wrestling him down and flipping up his shirt, exposing the marks (and making his cock throb). Repeated tells you it’s not a big deal but walks around with his shirt tucked in like a dork just in case anyone else tries to pull a fast one on him.

Jay

Loves that shit. Type of boyfie that sends you $200 to get your nails done all pretty. Taking care of you is his top priority!! Plus, he loves the way a nice manicure looks when you have your hands wrapped around his cock. He can also feel the scratch marks you leave down his back that much better with a nice set of acrylics. When he catches sight of them in the morning, you will have another “investment” sitting in your bank account immediately.

Jake

Shakes you awake after he takes a shower and the body wash packs an extra sting. Once he has you up and sufficiently panicked… “It’s important, wake up!!” Is not the most delicate way to wake up your partner… he pulls off his shirt and flips over to show you the damage. Thinks he has a rash at first, but it doesn’t take much to deduce what the red lines running down his back are from. Once you tell him, he switches to “Look what you did to me! You wild animal!” all whiny and rosey cheeked. Makes you kiss it better.

Sunghoon

Likes it and makes sure everyone knows about it. “Oh these? Y/n was over last night” cue groans from the other members. After that they stop asking but he makes sure they are visible. Will probably even ask you to do it again and leave marks along his shirt line so they “accidentally” show. And when you do, he makes sure to reward you with an extra nice pounding that night <3

Sunoo

Sweet blushing baby!! He sees it in the mirror while doing his morning skincare and shrieks. It obviously attracts the attention of everyone in the dorm, but he runs back to his room with his shirt clutched to his chest and back pressed against the wall. He finally slips into the room and sees you sitting up in bed, clearly just awoken by the chaos happening behind the door. Jeers of “damn Sunoo I didn’t know you were a freak like that!” from Jake as he turns around to show you what all the commotion was about sends you into your own fit of laughter.

Jungwon

The first time it happened he didn’t even notice. Goes about his day until he is at dance practice and is getting sweaty so he takes his shirt off. Sunoo’s scandalized gasp is all he heard before a shirt is thrown at his face with a hissed “are you crazy? what if the managers see?”. Oops. Not so secretly happy about it. Now he walks around the dorms shirtless after a romp with you in the sheets just so he can show off a bit.

END.

a/n: short lil thang to get back into the swing of things after everything that went down today. Good lord… thinking about getting two requests out tonight to make up for deleting last nights :( also reminder that requests are open for 100 follower event!! anyways, hope you enjoy! xx - princess

taglist: @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (fill out form or dm to be added)

[lanabuckybarnes]

Princess Treatment

18+ MINORS DNI

It’s been a few days since Princess had her first punishment from Bucky. She tried to avoid him like the plague whenever she could, but not for the reason he assumed.

Pairing: Bodyguard! Bucky x Brat! (Not so) Reader (Princess)

Warnings: Brat Taming, Masturbation (F), Whipped Princess, Crying, Soft Dom! Buck this time, Fingering, Oral (F), Praise Kink, Slight Overstim, A Lil Angsty, Princess is insecure, AFTERCARE (because it’s important)

Word Count: 1.8k

He scowled as once again, as soon as the doors to her penthouse opened she slinked off to her bedroom, not even bothering to pull off her heels. He’d thought a lot about the other day; he was probably too harsh on her, he should’ve eased her into it but she royally pissed him off with her defiant attitude as he pulled her from the sweaty crowd of drunken adults, she’d even spat in his face, the nail in the coffin.

But he hated the fact she didn’t want to be around him.

He sipped on the amber bourbon, hissing slightly at the expensive burn it caused down his throat before he tucked his lips into his mouth, deep in thought about how to best approach the situation he found himself in.

On the other side of the house, Princess whimpered into a clammy hand as her other ventured under her slicked panties. She’d been so good for him, curling into bed with throbbing want after he pushed her away - she’d tried the morning after to get herself off but there was a heavy weight of guilt that laid on her shoulders, causing her to slip her finger away from herself and finish up in the shower, unsatisfied again.

She was convinced he’d give her what she wanted after the second day. She’d been so sweet to him, making him tea in the morning, ordering him breakfast and even having his suit ironed by her personal maid but by dinner time her hope was wearing thin. Her book lay open on her lap but she’d be lucky to have read even the first paragraph, her eyes too busy gazing at each miniature movement Bucky made, a spike of excitement shooting up her spine each time his pink tongue ran over his plush lower lip, settling into the side of his mouth before slipping back into its place behind his teeth; each bob of his Adam’s apple as his favourite alcohol slipped down his throat.

But he stood with a groan, eyes glancing over at her nonchalantly and a gruff ‘goodnight’ falling from his mouth had that burning fire in her stomach quelled quick. She was becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of attention he was giving her and began to shut herself away for her own good. Being around him too much was not good for her sanity.

Which led to now.

She’d been out at an event, her daddy couldn’t make it and tasked her with showing her pretty face instead, it was simple work she’d done before, give a couple charming smiles, kiss a couple of cheeks and drink a couple glasses of champagne - that was before the addition of Bucky into her life.

She knew it was for her own safety when he manoeuvred her away from the only set of windows that she could’ve easily been shot at from, but his warm hand scalded her hip as he did it, the fingers squeezing in innocent reassurance but finally being touched by Bucky had her mind going dumb already. He’d continued to move her around with unassuming hands on her body the entire night until she was so sure she wouldn’t make it home in one piece. Thankfully she didn’t lose her marbles until her back connected with the soft sheets of her bed, her dress discarded on the floor and her hand cupping her heated core.

“F-fuck” Her breath hitched as her middle finger swirled slowly around her hard little pearl; its lack of action recently made it much more sensitive to her gentle touch. Her ring finger joined as she spread her legs wider; a guttural moan almost falling unchecked from her mouth but thankfully being suppressed by the soft feathers of her pillow.

She thought of his fingers instead; how rough would he be? Would he circle her clit delicately or would he maintain that rough dominant attitude from a few nights prior and leave her sopping pussy sore with hard spanks. No doubt he’d punish her, fuck her throat again and release all over her face before shoving her away and disappearing into his room, after all, that’s all he wanted, a stupid little girl who’d be at his beck and call, who’d open wide and gag around his length until he was satisfied.

Her free hand hooked around the waistband of her undies, pulling him unceremoniously until they stretched around her thighs before slipping off easily past her knees. She kept up her ministrations, hips bucking up to meet every flick of her fingers, soft moans and pleads of something she knew was unattainable escaping her mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head.

She didn’t even hear the door click open.

Bucky watched the sight in front of him, his princess getting herself off while she chanted his name. He expected himself to be upset at the sight but he felt guilty more than anything; he knew he’d gone too long and it caused her to break his rule. He sat down on the edge of the bed, only after feeling the sinking of the mattress did her eyes shoot open, a frightened gasp ripping from her throat and her hand flying from its spot.

“Oh my - I’m so sorry…I-I tried my best but you weren’t…I waited so long I c-couldn’t hold back” he frowned at just how frantically she apologised, her legs slapping shut, tears welling in her eyes at the thought of her impending punishment. She froze when instead of harsh words his big hand cupped the side of her face, thumb swiping up and escaping tears.

“Shhh it’s ok princess I know, I know, you did so well” he praised, mouth quirking up into a soft, gentle smile.

“Y-you’re not mad?” She stuttered in response.

“Uh-uh angel it’s my fault, was just tryna see how long I could push you but I pushed you too far, I’m sorry baby” She didn’t know how to feel about this Bucky; she enjoyed the soft touches and sweet words but it was such a far cry from the hard dom she’d dealt with before.

“Lemme help you ok princess, you deserve it for lasting so long, you want my help?” His words wobbled slightly at the end, slight hints of insecurity bubbling as he spoke, he wanted so badly to help her but he knew she had every right to tell him to fuck off - but she nodded, wide eyes unblinking and legs falling open.

“My rules are still in place sweet thing” he reminded, hand running soothingly up and down her thigh.

“I want your help Buck please” she gasped when his thick fingers resumed her circling, pressing firmer than she had. She watched him through lidded eyes; the way he took his time unravelling each part of her, his eyes moving from between her legs, up over her tummy to her soft breasts. He cupped one in his hand, thumb circling over the nipple softly eliciting soft whines from her.

“That feel good baby?” He mouthed along from her knee to her mid-thigh, sucking softly before kissing the bruising skin.

“Mhmm…want your fingers in me Buck” she hesitated for a beat, silently hoping it wasn’t too demanding but when his fingers sunk to his knuckles she thanked the heavens for his leniency. He thrust in and curled out, the pads of his fingers hitting that sweet spot every time, juices pooling out around his digits and down the crevice of her cheeks until settling on her sheets. She was dangerously close; his hot breath fanning over her folds not helping at all.

“Want you to tell me when you’re gonna come ok, you gotta ask permission, princess?” His dark eyes flicked up to hers, a chuckle forming on her lips as she nodded her head instead of using her words - she was lucky he was feeling so bad.

An almost pornographic sob left her when his tongue flattened over her hardened nub, vibrating with a growl he let out at her taste.

“Mmm tastes so good angel” he groaned against her, suckling up any sweetness decorating her lips. She was a mess, pussy clenching frantically on his quickening fingers, drool gathering and wetting the pillowcase beneath her head as she ground her body against his face, an image of her sweaty body crawling up the tallest mountain in the world, hands bleeding as she gripped at rocks, feet slipping but she kept going until she finally reached that summit, but something in her brain stopped her from jumping off just yet.

“Mm ohhh Buck I’m close, please gotta come…can I Bucky? Can I come?” She cried, eyes cracking open to look at him pleadingly.

“Come princess, let it go, let it all go for your Bucky” he rambled against her heat, moaning unabashedly as more of her slick sweetness slipped from her clenching hole, being sucked up by his tongue.

She had no idea how long she lay there writhing, orgasm seemingly never-ending. She came to from the feeling of Bucky’s fingers still thrusting weekly into her, helping her through her pleasure.

“Ah s-stop too much” She pushed against his bicep and he relented, pulling his sopping fingers from her winking cavern and cleaning them off in his mouth.

“You did so well for me princess, so fucking good” he lauded, kissing up her neck and jaw before planting his lips on her bitten ones.

“I’m sorry” she sobbed, emotions on full blast because of the assault her shuddering orgasm had on her nerves. He shushed her softly, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, assuring her she had nothing to be sorry for. He pulled her up into his arms, lifting her frame off the bed and carrying her into the en-suite adjoined to her room. He placed her aching body delicately into the warm sudded water he’d prepared in mere minutes.

She’d quietened after he scrubbed her expensive body wash over her body, paying close attention to any stiff knots he felt along the way. She turned to him with something intelligible swirling in her eyes.

“Are you proud of me?” Her voice was weak, raspy from overuse. He almost cooed out loud at the adorable little expression adorning her features, but he could sense something deeper crawling around there too.

“Of course princess, even when you act like a spoiled brat I’m proud of you…you take your punishments so well and you’re always so sweet after” he leaned forward and snatched her lips in his again.

The answer seemed to satisfy her for the time being but he knew it wouldn’t be the end of questions like that. Suddenly that simple bodyguard role for the world's brattiest women was starting to feel more like protecting the most misunderstood woman he’d ever met, and it boiled the pot of possessiveness that had sat cold in Bucky for a long time.

-

I had something else planned to post today but I'm not happy with it so you can have some Princess and Bucky because you have been denied. This was written a while ago and dedicated to the anon in my asks who asked for Princess and Bucky filth months ago 💚

I hope you enjoyed, any likes, reblogs and comments are well appreciated and I’d love any asks telling me your thoughts about these two or anything else that comes to mind. I'm a certified yapaholic.

[fishnets-fingers]

Out by the Docks

“Did you um- have you… touched yourself more to the thought of me?” She asks him quietly.

“What do you think, hmm?” He responds with a smile. He had come on his stomach and hands an embarrassing amount of times replaying that night. It was pathetic how much she had him in a chokehold.

“I would like to kiss you,” she says, scooting forward to slot her knees between his. “Would you like that too?”

He nods, tongue licking his lips in anticipation as his heart kicks up again. The butterflies start flapping about in his tummy as she leans in with puckered lips.

“I said that I’d like to kiss you not that you could,” he explains when she looks at him with furrowed brows. “You gotta ask me nicely, if you want me to kiss you,” he teases, kissing the tip of her nose.

“You want me to beg?” She scoffs.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

a/n - the long awaited part two to forbidden hours. it was initially supposed to be a small blurb that somehow became twice as long. thank you for waiting and i hope you like this part as much as i do. if you have any requests or ideas for the next part, let me know. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 6.2k (not proofread)

MASTERPOST 

.....

பரிசோதி. Examine. Harry runs a check of his catamaran for the fourth time in the past hour. Sailing was something he grew up doing and that did not mean he took it nonchalantly. It was not an easy task in the slightest; if one was not cognizant and five steps ahead of every single aspect of it, the sea would consume them. In a lot of ways it was an intricately woven tapestry of mastering the control of being at the mercy of the ocean. Two completely opposing beliefs somehow meshing together - like acrobats swinging from one side to another, it might seem like they are at the mercy of gravity and the ropes beneath them but they spend their lives mastering and learning how to taunt the inevitable forces without succumbing to it.

“The sea is a cruel mistress, Harry,” his father would often bark at him when he got one of the knots wrong. Which would then result with him doing a plethora of knots over the next few days until his father was convinced he could hold his own with the crew. He looks around, one more time, for good measure. His oars were greased up, the fabric of the sail - albeit dirty - was without tears, he had more ropes than necessary, a smaller set of paddles in case he’d lost it, food to hold him over, and a can of water. 

Late, he sighs, sitting in his boat that was bobbing along with the lazy waves. The sun was over his head shining radiantly casting small shadows. It was past noon and no one had come to hand him the message from Princess Y/N. Did she forget? Can’t be. Maybe the stupid guard is lost, besides, the docks were vast. He reaches into his bag grabbing a fistful of puffed rice and throws it in the water, making the fish - that were previously eating the algae from the sides of his boat - flounder up and nibble on the white flakes. He looks over at their streamlined moist bodies flipping over others as they ravenously eat the floating white specs and his hands absentmindedly tightens the knot that was anchoring his boat to the side of the docks.

“Took you long enough. Have you no regard for people’s time,” he grumbles, as a shadow blocks the beam out light illuminating the iridescent scales of the fish.

“That’s no way to speak to the Princess,” she replies, with a hint of mirth in her tone. He whips his head around to find Y/N towering over him on the wooden dock. 

“I apologise, your highness. I did not know it was you,” his cheeks tinge with pink as he vaults over to the wooden structure.

Y/N did not look like a member of the royal family today. There were no silks or expensive jewelry adorning her body, her hair was not done up high with flowers. It didn’t make her any less captivating in the slightest with her raven hair slicked back in a low bun, a red cotton saree with the long end twisted around her waist to make a belt to keep the top half of the saree intact since she was not wearing a blouse, and a small black dot in between her eyebrows. She had clasped an oxidised silver ornament around her neck and a small ring around her septum. She looked like she’s spent her whole life here out by the docks rather than the giant mansions with sprawling gardens. 

“You - um - look-” Harry starts.

“I’m in disguise, Mr. Styles.” She answers, pulling out a blank parchment paper and hands it over to him. “I apologise for being late. I had stopped by the bazaar.”

“The bazaar, Princess Y/N,” he repeats, looking over her shoulder to find it empty.

“Having guards following me sort of defeats the purpose of the disguise, Harry.” She catches on as his eyes scan behind her.

“Of course.” He looks at the parchment in his hands turning it around. “It’s blank.”

“It is.” 

“I thought I needed to sail to Lanka to deliver a message, ma’am,” he mumbles, looking down at the sheet of yellowed pulp running his thumb over to feel for any creases or indentations.

“Ma’am,” Y/N snorts out. “Really? You’re calling me a ma’am after what happened the other night,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief.

“It’s protocol,” he tells her blankly.

“Was it also protocol to crowd me against my desk in the middle of the night?” She arches her brow, enjoying the way his face flushes with colour. “The message is intended for the recipient’s eyes only. Karthi will know what to do.”

He nods, folding the paper and slotting it into a small zipped pocket of his dhoti pants. “I should set sail soon,” he informs her, making his way into his vessel. “Looks like a storm’s heading this way.”

“How can you tell, Mr. Styles,” she asks, stepping forward to look over at the horizon to find rain laden grey clouds but is instead met with tiny fluffy cotton akin ones dotting the powdery blue skies.

“I can smell it. There was a ring around the moon last night and red skies at dawn. It probably won’t break ground until a few days.”

“Very impressive,” she praises, looking down at him. “Here, I bought you some food for your travel,” she shifts through her linen bag that was draped over her shoulder. She pulls out a box of rambutan and some partially cooked spiced lentils.

“Thank you, Princess.” He stashes it next to his metal box of food supply. “Do you come to town often in your disguise?”

“Not very-” she is interrupted by the sound of people marching and a loud whistle followed by a booming voice asking the soldiers to fall in a single file. “That’s the admiral,” she whispers, eyes bulging out of her head. “Fuck. If he catches me I’m so dead.”

“Hop on,” Harry tells her.

“What?!?” She whisper shouts at him. “I have to head back.”

“I’ll take you to the palace. I know a way - right behind your garden. Get in,” Harry offers, coming over to the side and holding onto the side of the dock.

Y/N balks, looking down at his rickety catamaran. The structure looked like it was going to wither away in a few days - calling it old would be an insult at this point. Prehistoric was more so the right word. The ropes were frayed and seemed used. She is pretty sure the thing was built before she was born. No way in hell, she shakes her head.

“Princess,” he urges, as the sounds of footfall grow closer and closer.

“I’ll walk back. Maybe I can slip past them,” she tells him.

“It sounds like twenty men, how are you going to slip past all of them,” he shakes his head. “You’ll only be dragging me down with you.”

“I’ve slipped in and out of the castle loads of times,” she reasons.

“There’s only one way out of here, unless you fancy swimming,” Harry points out. “Y/N,” he insists, holding out one of his hands. She lets out a sigh and grips his palm as she climbs into the bobbing catamaran. Once she gets situated, Harry grips onto the oars and starts speedily rowing from the dock, away from the bay. 

Harry looks over her every so often at Y/N as he steadily paddles his boat away. She was curled into herself, looking very unsure with her hands wrapped around her arms as she looked back at the disappearing docks. When the vessel bobs due to a sudden current she pales, gripping onto the wooden plank of her seat firmly, eyes never drifting back to the pier. He’s never seen her like that, and he certainly did not peg her to experience trepidation, uncertainty, and fret. The memory of the first time he met her was etched into the deep recesses of his brain. 

It was eight months since he’d seen her for the first time. He had quickly become fast friends with the Crown Prince - her older brother - who had invited him to train within the palace grounds. He made his way into the halls of the building in wonder of tall ceilings and intricately carved woodwork and artwork and was led to the sparring arena. Vikram was waiting for him sans armour - he believed that having armour on while practice lets one have a certain air of nonchalance with the training thereby removing the stakes. His moves and close combat skills were immediately applauded by the members there with the Princes - Vikram and Karthi - asking a guard to take him to the stables, so he could pick his own horse and learn how to ride. That’s when Y/N walked into the arena, dressed immaculately in a cream silk saree and a colourful pashmina wrapped around her shoulders. There was no jewelry on her body other than a pearl choker and her hair was pulled back into a loose braid. There were four other handmaidens following her, who’d stopped at their tracks by the opened double doors as they giggled at the sweat laden covered men.

“What?” She stalked forward and snapped at her brothers.

“Good day to you too, little girl,” Vikram mocks.

“I have far more important things to do than entertain you, Vikram.”

“Don’t get snippy with me because I pulled you out of philosophy class -”

“A class you should be attending,” Karthi notes, throwing his arm around his sister’s shoulder. “One word to the Queen Mother and you won’t see the outside of the library for the next month,” the two giggle together.

“Books don’t teach you anything, combat does. Anyway don’t go ganging up on me,” Vikram raises his hands in submission. “I just called you to meet my new friend,” he cocks his head to the side. “Y/N meet Harry Edwards Styles.”

Harry feels her gaze pierce right through him, her eyes roamed up and down his body. Being scrutinised made him straighten his back upright - mostly in a way to show off his stature. After a few moments her hickory eyes finally settled at his jade orbs. “Mr. Styles,” she greets him with a polite smile. “You must be the sea merchant who’d bought the crates of berry seeds.”

“Your highness,” he bows. “The sea merchant is my father.”

“Ah, makes sense. You seem awfully young to master navigating the treacherous waters of the Pacific.”

“Thank you, Princess,” he mutters, cheeks heating up at her calling him young.

“That was hardly a compliment, Mr. Styles. I was simply noting your lack of experience,” she lifts up her chin, keeping it parallel to the floor. “I understand from what my brothers have told me you plan on riding to battle with Vikram.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“As noble as your intentions are, how are we to know your allegiance lies with the flag of Chozhamandalam? You landed here seven- eight months ago, am I wrong? I don’t doubt that you’ve seen many kingdoms in your father’s quests, why are you choosing to devote your life to mine? Why not the Crown of England, the land of you and your forefathers?”

“Y/N,” Vikram states firmly. “You are insulting my friend by insinuating things.”

“I’m not insinuating anything, Vikarm. I’m simply doing the grunt work for you like always,” she bites back.

“Stop th-”

“Well she’s not wrong to ask this, brother. Especially after what happened the last time,” Karthi notes. 

“You two never stop throwing what happened ten years ago in my face every single time,” Vikram gets frustrated.

“Your highnesses,” Harry interrupts their squabble. The princess staggered him in a lot of ways, she just met him but it seemed that she had some sort of an upper hand with him and it didn’t stem from her lineage. She seemed to know a lot about him from growing up in different parts of the world to the seeds his father’s crew arrived with. Surely royalty had no business knowing inventory of all the consignments at the ports; he’s sure they had people for that. His accent once thick and pronounced - resembling the dialect of his mother’s village - had now got muddled up spending time with his father’s crew men and it’s settled into a transatlantic hybrid; is that how she pegged him to be English? 

Unlike most women he’s met, Princess Y/N looks directly at him - through him in a manner of speaking - holding eye contact until their exchanges come to a halt. It felt as if she was giving you her utmost attention at all times, but it was also unnerving because Harry felt like she was also playing a game of chess. Slotting individuals in their designated squares after she thoroughly sized someone up. She was still breathtaking as the day he first laid eyes on her but seeing her up close with her gaze trained on him, made him gulp down the nerves that made him feel like she was a step above him, as he spoke, “I understand the need for Princess Y/N to ask me those questions… If I may,” he looks at her brothers flanking her sides for approval.

“Please do, Mr. Styles.” She motions with her hand for him to continue. 

“You are right, Princess Y/N, I have spent very little time in your dynasty as compared to everyone in this room but it does not take away my love for the people. You see, I have seen many places sailing with my father but almost all of them considered me a passerby - especially countries where people looked different to me. I have seen people treat people like sewage based on the colour of their skin, the faith they practice, or the wealth they’ve inherited. The first day I came to these shores, unloading heavy crates at the port, an old woman - who was walking off with a basket of fish - came up to the crew and noticed that we looked worn out and offered up some of the fresh catch so we could cook and eat. The captain denied it, but she insisted we must eat and somehow managed to have my father and the crew over to her house. She cooked for us. A woman who we did not know up until that day, invited strangers into her house and made us a hearty meal. So, to answer your question, my allegiance lies with the people, not a flag.”

“Satisfied?” Vikram smirks, taunting Y/N by bumping his shoulder on hers.

“And as for England, I haven’t been there in forever. I don’t have any ties that bind me other than it being the country my mother resided in.”

“Seems like you have your way with words, Mr. Styles,” she smiles up at him. Harry can’t help the way satisfaction brews in his chest in response to her smile.

“Oh, Y/N, Harry is good with swords, too,” Karthi tells her. 

“That so?” She arches her brow. “Now that is something I need to witness,” she says, walking over and picking one of the swords that was mounted on the wall. 

She unsheathes it, swishing it once to get a sense of its weight, before stepping into the circle. “I like a good challenge. Hope you deliver,” she tells him.

“I don’t quite understand,” he says, looking around the room for signs that it was an elaborate plan, only to be met with none. “Princess Y/N, I’m not going to fight you,” he steps back.

“Why not?” She arches her brows, pulling off the pashmina that was wrapped around herself and tossing it onto the readily waiting hands of a scurrying handmaiden.  

“Because women do not fight, ma’am,” he mumbles, and both Princes snicker at his response.

“Do not? Or not allowed to.” She challenges him.

“It is not what I mean-”

“Do you dare disobey my orders?” Y/N cuts him off. “Now fight. Don’t let up easy because you think women can’t hold their own. If you do, I’ll make you disappear without a trace.”

He nods, squaring his shoulders and hoisting up his own sword. Far be it for him to disobey the Princess Royal. He’ll give her the fight she was asking for.

He advances first, much to his surprise. He expected her to charge at him but she gilded around the periphery matching his moves, unwilling to attack. She swivels his sword to the side and from then their duel mimicked a dance They moved harmoniously, almost like each move was choreographed, both matching each other moves, the sharp end of the blades kissing each other only to be redirected elsewhere. He can’t help but get distracted by the way her supple skin feels when she brushes past him, and the way her scent niggles his heart. He wonders if she feels it too, but no cues that signaled him. They were synchronized - strike for strike, manoeuvre for manoeuvre, a sharp turn for a turn. But when Harry notices, her eyes darting to his feet, he figures out her next move and backs away when she advances forward trying to trip his feet with her own as her sword swivels around. It happens seamlessly, Harry twists around to trap her arm that’s clutching the sword and lunges forward to press the tip of his scimitar to her side of her throat.

He expects her to look up at him with surprise and even a hint of admiration - both looks he was no stranger to from women - but there was no sense of defeat in her face. Instead, her eyes glinted at him as her lips tugged up in a smug smile. His brows knit in confusion and he follows her eyes, feeling a pointy object push against his sternum - harder this time. Y/N’s holding up a small shiv, which she tugged from its sheath tucked against her waist, angled directly for his heart. 

“A stalemate,” she informs him. 

“How?” He asks, suddenly very aware that he’s got her pressed against him in front of a dozen people. She looks even more beautiful up close, with a bead of sweat running down her temple, her honeyed skin flushed from exertion, her full cheeks, flecks of gold in her eyes under the sunlight, a tiny crescent shaped birthmark on the corner of her chin, lips like a flower petal.

He’s almost reluctant to let her get away from his grasp when she steps backward, immediately missing her warmth on him. A soldier collects the sword from her, before she tucks her shiv away in its holder. She explains, while draping her pashmina the handmaiden scurried over to give, “You got cocky. You thought you figured out my next move and thereby acted in a manner that made your vision tunnel to the sword in my hand. While you celebrated your victory before your sword even touched my throat, you failed to realise that I had a shiv pointed at your heart.”

Her loud exhale of relief snaps him out of his reverie, her shoulder relaxes a smidge but Harry notices that she’s still tightly wound. Her arms are crossed protectively around herself with her knees towards her chest. She should look out of place in the catamaran he’d bought a few months ago at a bargain - bear boned structure unlike the things she was used to - but she didn’t. Almost like the wooden plank in front of him was made for her. She didn’t look out of place, just a tad nervous. “We’re in the clear,” she declares, once the pier completely disappears from view as he rows over to another bay nearby. It was rocky and jagged, lined with palm and coconut trees, dense with shrubbery sprouting all over the sand with an odd dollop of violet flowers breaking the monotony of green.

“Told you I knew a place,” he smirks. “Besides,” he remarks, leaning backward to get more movement with his row as he navigates away from the rocks and towards the shore. “It’s the least I could do. Disguising yourself and coming all the way to the docks to give me food and bid me farewell.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Y/N scoffs. “I didn’t sneak out of the palace for you.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Stop being so cocky,” she admonishes him as her eyes fall on the way the muscles on his arm flex and bulge as he moves the oars. The veins on his hands looked delicious with the way he gripped the oars as he tugs and pulls back as he moves. 

“Can’t help it, Princess.” He chuckles. “Especially with you drooling over my arms.”

Y/N feels the heat scorch her cheeks from his comment, immediately tearing her eyes away. “Shut up, Harry.”

“How was your trip to the capital? Did you confront your Uncle?” He inquires, asking her about the incident that led him to break into her chamber. 

“Busy. The capital is never not busy. Dad’s sick,” she adds the last part quietly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” There has been a hushed talk among the people about the King’s decline in health. Stories of people coming down from the far East and embedding needles in his flesh, and letting leeches draw impure blood spread like wildfire.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. People contract illnesses all the time. I’m sure it will pass.” She turns to the shores, eyes scanning to see if there are people around and Harry does the same, even if he knows that this area of the bay is always deserted. “I didn’t talk to my Uncle,” she answers. 

“Why not? Won’t it be best to put a stop to it right now?”

“Why would I let him know that I know what he’s plotting?” She shrugs. “It’s not about putting a stop to it, it’s how you do it. I didn’t talk to him. I asked to meet with the governors instead. Told them it was  time we start looking for brides for the future King. With Dad’s health, we must be prepared for Vikaram’s coronation and it would not be a good look, if he did not have a queen by his side at age of twenty five.”

“That helps how?”

“Easy. While they were busy squabbling over what kingdom to approach for talks of courtships, with fear brewing in their chest about the possibility of the Dynasty having added support from another kingdom. I’d simply said that I do not wish that and I would much rather prefer that the Crown Prince marry a Chola woman of nobility - one that knows our ways and our people. I’d pointed out that many of the governors - especially the ones who were meeting with my Uncle - themselves have daughters who were fit to be the future queen,” she smiles, satisfied with herself.

“Smart. There’s no way they’re going to support your Uncle now. Pitting swindling tax money and being the power that comes with being father of a future queen. Why would they not want to be the in-law of the Crown?”

“Exactly. You seed the idea of climbing up the ladder, and they are putty. There’s nothing more seductive than power. My Uncle’s support ought to dwindle.”

She is a good politician and the thought makes his chest swell in pride. Harry will never understand royal life. He covets the glitz and glamour that comes with hitting the genetic lottery but the more he spent time with the heirs the more he learnt that it was all exhausting mind games, endless duties to fulfil along with conducting yourself the way people deemed fit. It must suck. Uncle who doted on you growing up is the same one that's planning to overthrow you all this time, he thinks. He pulls the oars in when he feels the boat make contact with the sand bed, jolting the two in the wooden structure. 

Y/N lurches forward from the sudden movement, hands coming to grip his forearms to brace herself. “Sorry,” she mumbles, straightening up and squaring off her shoulders. 

“Are you sure you didn’t come all the way to the docks to not see me, Princess?” He teases. 

“You think highly of yourself, Harry,” she laughs, reaching in her linen bag and shifting through it. 

“How could I not? Besides look at where you got me,” he gestures to the scenery around them. It was just the two of them on his catamaran by the shore, the sun shining high up in the sky, and a cool breeze makes it way to them making the leaves and branches of the trees dance in its rhythm. Awfully convenient, he wonders as they bask in the solitude of the crashing waves and the screech of birds. 

“I got you?” She scoffs, raising her eyebrows. “If I recall correctly, it was you who pulled me into your boat. So, who got who alone?” 

A right menace, he shakes his head. “Why are you here then, Y/N?” He hopes it’s to continue where they’d left off that night, his body pressed up unbelievably close to her. He doesn’t miss sparing a glance - when she tucks a stray stand of hair behind her ear, inadvertently moving the fabric of her saree exposing the soft skin of her belly rising and falling as she breathes.  Even without all the fanfare around her appearance, she never looked less gorgeous.

She opens her palm, revealing a few brown candies wrapped in thin butter paper. A candy he knew all too well. It was popular in the port town. Sweet tamarind candy. “For these,” she admits. “My family thinks I should not be eating peasant treats. So, whenever I come to town to check on how the people are doing and how the children are responding with the school’s curriculum, I make sure to buy this in bulk from the market and stash it in my room.” 

“You do it often?”

“Not as often as I like,” she admits, stuffing them back in her bag. 

“Didn’t peg you as a sneak. Why not come to check on the people as the princess?”

“Because people don’t talk to me. They talk to the Princess. The crown. If they know I’m coming, they don’t see me, they see the ostentatious display of wealth and put on the best version of themselves. I want my people to talk to me, unfiltered as possible.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t been caught,” Harry claims. “It’s not the best disguise, Y/N. I can see right through it.”

“That’s because you actually bother to look at me. You’d be surprised how little people actually look into my eyes. People don’t pay attention to people they don't care about, especially ones that are from a lower caste and don’t draw too much attention to themselves. You’d be surprised how many people bumped into me today without so much as an apology.” She laughs, the tinkling sound cutting right through the monotonous sound of waves carding against the shore. “Besides, I’ve got my lady-in-waiting covering for me and my guards are standing outside the door, thinking I’ve taken to the bed,” she shrugs. 

“Next time let me know.” The words tumble out of Harry’s mouth before his brain can comprehend. “Can’t have people bumping into you.”

A smile blooms across her face. “I’ll survive. Thanks for the offer though,” she replies, pursing her lips together in an attempt to refrain from telling him how cute he looked. 

“You know,” Harry starts, taking one of her hands in both of his. “I was kinda hoping you came here and demand that you continue where we left off,” he confesses, green eyes flicking up at hers to gauge her reaction. 

Y/N can’t help but reel at the sensation of his slightly calloused thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand. “What if I did?”

“I think I would like that very much.” Harry gives her a shy smile. “Was kinda beating myself up for not kissing you that night.”

“I didn’t know you liked me. Much less in a sexual manner-”

“I think it’s more than lust, Y/N,” he confesses, bringing her hand up and brushing his lips against her knuckles. 

“Did you um- have you… touched yourself more to the thought of me?” She asks him quietly, hoping that he did not bed other women in town after that night.

“What do you think, hmm?” He responds with a smile. He had come on his stomach and hands an embarrassing amount of times replaying that night. It was pathetic how much she had him in a chokehold.

“I would like to kiss you,” she says, scooting forward to slot her knees between his. “Would you like that too?”

He nods, tongue licking his lips in anticipation as his heart kicks up again. The butterflies start flapping about in his tummy as she leans in with puckered lips. He backs up in the very last second when his lips were an inch away from hers, making her headbutt him in the process.

“I said that I’d like to kiss you not that you could,” he explains when she looks at him with furrowed brows. “You gotta ask me nicely, if you want me to kiss you,” he teases, kissing the tip of her nose. 

“You want me to beg?” She scoffs.

“Not necessarily but it won’t hurt to throw a please in there,” he mutters against the flamed skin of her cheek as he trails wet kisses up to the corner of her eye.

Her breath washes over him as she sighs, “Fine. Just this once though, don’t get used to it. Kiss me, pl-”

He cuts her off, smearing his lips with hers. Her lips were softer than he could have dreamt. His hands immediately move to cup her cheeks, tilting her head, so their noses weren’t smushed. He holds her delicately, like she was made of the finest crystal. Their eyes flutter close as their body relaxes into each other, lips moving in sync like they were destined to do this. Her palms slowly creep up his chest, resting firmly at the crook of his neck, grinning at the way she pulls a pleasured hum from him. Kissing someone never felt this right to Harry. They do it once, one more time, and another time before their lungs force them apart to pull in air. He leans in to peck her swollen lips again, silently thanking the ocean for bringing him to her.

Harry was right, he doesn’t think he had it in him to stop now that he had a taste. He reaches forward, wrapping a strong arm around the small of her back, while the other cradles her bum, pulling her onto his lap eliciting a quiet gasp from her. Y/N doesn’t waste time connecting their lips again. Only this time, Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip - seeking permission. His hands grip her in place at her ribs, resting right below her breasts. She opens up for him willingly and he wiggles his tongue into her mouth, licking hers hesitantly. She moans into his mouth, fingernails pressing crescents on the defined muscles of his back. He grunts out, feeling the heat pool from his chest and making its way south to his throbbing cock. They slot together perfectly, Y/N can’t help but grind down to help relieve the pressure building up in her tummy. 

“Do you like it?” He pulls back checking in, talking against her lips as they pant against each other.

“Very much,” she answers, fluttering her eyes open as her forehead rests against his. “Am I satisfactory in this kissing ordeal?”

Harry lets out a boyish laugh, the one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle and the dimples in his cheek deepen. “You are heavenly, Princess.”

Y/N gives him a satisfactory smile. “You have a scar here,” she notes as her eyes focus on the small cut under his left eyebrow.

“Got it from a fishing hook when I was nine,” he tells her. They’d been on this ship for a month now and Harry was getting restless, so he’d convinced one of the crew men to teach him to throw a line. Instead of waiting for the instructions, he simply grabbed the pole and whipped it around, resulting in a gash and his father incessantly yelling at him for being careless.

Her fingers feather over the mark, ghosting over the skin. Her touch was so gentle that Harry wondered if she was afraid that blood might ooze out if she put any pressure. He goes to tease her but she beats him to it, pressing her lips to the scar. She lingers breathing in his scent - a musky woody one underlying the smell of the salty sea.

Y/N’s gesture makes his breath hitch, a lump forming in his throat. The delicate nature of her action, knocked the wind out from his solar plexus. He didn’t realise he craved tenderness until now, there was no one to kiss his boo boos on the boat. He barely registered the pain back when the fish hook tore through his flesh, instead he was apologising to his father telling him that he’ll be better while pressing a muslin cloth to the wound. No one has been this tender with me. “Y/N,” he breathes out as a single tear rolls from his eye, “Thank you.”

She doesn’t understand why Harry’s crying as he thanks her but she gives him a comforting smile thumbing away the tear as he sniffles. He kisses her again, slipping his tongue into her mouth as they both sigh in satisfaction. That’s how they stay for the next hour, tangled together as desire simmers in their nerve endings. Lips caressing each other, as their tongue prods and rolls around in each other's mouth. Harry’s hands rests on her hips, fingers finding the skin of her stomach rubbing circles into them as Y/N tests Harry by making him moan as she tugs on the curls at the nape of his neck. The catamaran lazily bobs in the water not wanting to disrupt  the two, like the ocean understood that they were going to part with each other soon. But the sky had other plans, a distant rumble of thunder jolting them apart, reminding them of reality. Y/N shuffles back to her seat despite his grumbled protests, reaching in her bag to hand him some copper coins, “For your trouble,” she explains. 

“You’re paying me for kissing you?” He chuckles.

“No! It’s for rowing me here from the docks.”

“I didn’t do it for the money.”

“I know but I insist,” she states firmly.

He examines the coins in his palm and laughs. “I don’t understand how you haven’t been recognized in the markets. These are the shiniest copper coins I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he comments. 

Harry’s right. The Princess had no use for copper coins, she only used gold. The coppers denominated smaller values of money and had no place among royalty. She usually goes out of her way to request some from the mint in the capital, telling her father that she needs them to throw into wells when she makes wishes. Y/N thinks wishes were lame and if her father knew her any better, he’d catch on to the fact that she had been using the coppers to visit the markets. People rarely had brand new coins because it dulled and discoloured from use. No would have so many on them at once.

Their farewell was brief. Harry helps her to the shore, telling her how to sneak back into her castle. She interrupts him when he lets her know that there's a spot  - one that’s covered in vines and deceptive to the untrained eye - low in the stone back wall of the butterfly garden of her grounds, telling him that she was the one who designed it to aid in her sneaking out. He pulls her in a long tight hug, breathing in her floral scent as he mumbled goodbyes against the column of her throat he was busy trailing kisses on. It wasn’t lost on Harry that Y/N was trying to sneak some of the candy she’d purchased into his pockets.

“Show this to the soldiers,” she pulls out her golden ring, which bore the sigil of her family. “You won’t need to sneak in. Tell them I sent you and show them the ring, they’ll take you to Karthi.”

He nods, slipping the ring on his pinky, before kissing her with reckless abandon as his hands move down her back, grabbing a fistful of her bum and squeezing it. Y/N laughs, poking his side before getting on her toes again, to plant a kiss on his cheek. He wades into the waves, pushing the boat further out into the open water.

“Be careful, Harry,” she calls out from the shore when he hops on the boat. “You know with the storm and all. Don’t want you getting lost in the middle of the ocean,” she jokes weakly but even from far Harry could tell that her eyes were full of concern.

“Promise,” his voice rings out with sincerity. “Got someone to come home to now, haven’t I, Princess?” He teases one last time, giving her a wave.

[lxnababy]

I. PRINCESS

wc: 7.3k

read part 2 HERE

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I. PRINCESS

Charlotte’s eyes fluttered shut, eyeshadow being painted on her tired lids in the makeup chair. Her head felt heavy from the rollers tucked in her hair, her body lulling itself back to sleep from having to keep her eyes closed. “Oh, darling, you’re looking beautiful!” Her makeup artist, an older lady with purple highlights, gushed loudly, her clap piercing the thick morning air.

She opened her eyes to plaster a fake smile on her lips, laughing gently at her artist’s reaction. “Thank you,” she said softly, puckering her lips so the gloss slid on easier.

Despite her eyes being closed, she felt a pair of eyes glaring at her from across the room—she always felt that, though it was much more prominent this morning. She had a theory it was because he overslept a little; hair and makeup started at six, and Harry hadn’t reported down in the lobby until 5:58. Not that Charlotte cared; she knew it must be extremely annoying to keep tabs on her every day, but Harry was always punctual.

The shoot was only a few minutes away, and had much less clothing than she knew when she signed up for it. It made her extremely uncomfortable and her hands sweat, but she knew her manager would kill her if she backed out now.

So, here Charlotte was, the dawn of the morning climbing up the horizon, sitting in a white puffy robe with a full face of makeup. Her nerves were skyrocketing—the studio was packed with people she’d never seen before, all waiting and watching her every move. She was sure there was a plethora of paparazzi outside and it had her breaking out in a cold sweat.

Harry, her bodyguard, closed in to sit beside her as people began coming up to her, running over concepts, asking for signatures, touching up her makeup and hair. She knew he got iffy when anyone got too close, and she couldn’t call him a stickler—the reason he was hired was because of a fan that seemed to know her every location, found her number, and began sending questionable letters to her.

It was one person in particular, though, that had Harry tensing up. “Well, this is a topless shoot, so you can keep your robe on when you’re just walking through the studio. Jean here has to contour your chest, though. Would you like to do it in private?”

Charlotte’s head whipped over to Harry. She thought this was a lingerie shoot, not a topless shoot. “Harry?” Her voice cracked slightly. His jaw ticked.

“Did you know this?” His voice was hard—it was always intimidating, but now even she was scared. She shook her head slightly.

“Did you?” She asked, dreading the answer. From his reaction, she assumed he didn’t know this either, but she knew he was close with her manager. And this, for sure, is something her manager would pull. “Um, is it possible to maybe… not be topless?” Charlotte ripped her eyes away from Harry and back to the man in front of her, though she knew Harry’s intimidating glare hadn’t shifted from her figure.

The man stifled a laugh as he shook his head. “We paid for a topless shoot, honey,” he replied, not giving Charlotte a chance to respond before walking away. Her eyes widened, a frown falling onto her lips. Topless? She knew the world had seen a lot of her; from runways with belts as shirts to photoshoots with men in compromising positions, they’d seen everything.

But never something so intimate. She would show the world if she wanted to show the world, but after years of ridicule and vicious attacks, her body was not something she was very comfortable in. It made her sick to think about—giving the world something to laugh at her about.

She turned to her bodyguard, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked at her, his usual stony expression cracking slightly to show pure hopelessness in his eyes. “He’ll fire me,” Harry said quietly. Charlotte knew it was true; if Harry helped her escape this shoot, she’d never see him again.

Charlotte nodded slightly. “Can you… maybe not look, though? If that’s okay. You’ll probably see the shoot anyway, it’s just…” she huffed in frustration at being unable to spit out the words plaguing her mind.

“Of course. I’ll be right here if you need me,” Harry agreed. He was never known for being the softest—his friends would laugh at him if they heard his tone of voice when speaking to Charlotte, but he didn’t care. The sweet girl was under his care, trusting him fully with her safety, and he had now failed her with a dumb photoshoot she definitely did not need.

He watched as she pranced through the studio, standing still as people tugged curlers out of her long hair, holding onto the edge of her bathrobe as she took directions from the director of the shoot, chewing on her plump, pink lip.

Every few minutes, he’d tear his eyes from her figure to survey the room around her. Anger spiked when he caught people’s eyes lingering on her like he had been; he hated that he couldn’t cover her up in his jacket and usher her out of the shitty establishment before she caught the attention of every person here.

Right as she was tugging on the belt of her robe, her eyes met Harry’s. He quickly turned away, focusing on the exit door as his skin prickled and his fingers curled into a fist. She was standing behind him, the only garment on her body a tiny pair of panties, looking like his fucking wet dream and he couldn’t turn to look.

Obviously, he’d rather not see her like that in this setting. He wanted her to want it, wanted her to climb into his bed down the hall from hers and whisper dirty secrets as he took care of her in all aspects. He wanted to protect her from every outside source, every devilish activity in this world.

And he wasn’t. Right now, she was doing something that made her sick and uncomfortable, and he couldn’t stop it. He wasn’t doing his job—he was hired to protect her, right? And she didn’t seem very protected, did she?

Harry’s jaw locked. What if he shut the shoot down? Would she be angry at him? The ‘E’ on the exit sign was flickering red and blank, staring him down almost as if it was taunting him. He wanted to grab her and carry her out of that door and away from the creeps that designed this shoot; he was sure they would make millions from this and give Charlotte the smallest sliver.

His head was spinning, filling his ears with the sound of ocean water so loud he couldn’t feel his nails digging into his palm until trickles of blood streamed down his fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment, shivering softly. He needed to get a grip—this was his client, and he was a professional.

“Harry?” The voice behind him had him whipping around, crazy eyes quickly assessing her for any injuries despite her being gone for less than fifteen minutes. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She laughed softly, tugging her robe tighter around her petite frame. “There’s sandwiches in the break room, so I brought you one.”

Harry’s eyes softened as his body deflated. “Thanks, Charlotte,” he said quietly, taking the sandwich. “Is it as horrible as you thought?” He didn’t really want to know the answer, and judging by her expression, he already knew it.

“Worse,” she said simply.

—

The ride home was quiet. She was silent, staring out the window as Harry gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Charlotte felt like a child being chastised, and sunk deeper into her seat to avoid accidentally looking at his disappointed face.

Sometimes having Harry around felt like she was constantly disappointing him. He never spoke much, and never disapproved outwardly of Charlotte’s antics, but he also never tried to engage with her. It was like he saw her as a paycheck.

Except that one night. That one night where she swore Harry thought of her as more. She had been leaving an event early in hopes of escaping the nagging paparazzi, but it wasn’t the case. Harry was close behind her, dressed in a black suit with his hand guiding her towards the car waiting.

But then the hand got closer, or her body was drawn towards it, and it eventually fell to her hip. He gripped the skin tightly, almost possessively, and glared at any paparazzi who would mention the action. And when he helped her into the car, he leaned close to her with a soft ask of, “do you need help?” 

Charlotte thought she imagined that night. Harry never touched her since, never looked at her with the same fondness. She reduced his actions down to pity. He pitied her, seeing how she was practically an act in a circus, constantly being looked at. That was why he was so kind—not because he thought she was attractive. And Charlotte didn’t care about this night because she definitely did not think he was attractive.

Her eyes wandered from the tattoos snaking up his arms to the chain wrapped loosely around his neck to his face, which was hardened and stony. “Are you angry with me?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows. It didn’t seem plausible, but it would explain his behavior.

Harry looked over at her. “No,” is all he responded. She nodded, but stayed silent.

—

She woke up the next morning to complete silence, like usual, with the only presence being Harry holed up in his room. Last night she vaguely remembered Harry talking angrily on the phone with someone when she passed his door on her way to the bathroom, which might have explained his curt attitude.

Trotting down the stairs in the cotton pajama set of shorts and a tank with a large knitted cardigan, she tied her hair back loosely and started the coffee maker. Her apartment overlooked the city, a view she was sure people would kill for, but it just made her feel small. Down below, there would be paparazzi waiting there for her, drooling at the thought of making a profit off of unflattering photos of her.

She was sure there was not a single soul on Earth that wanted her for nothing more than her presence. Harry wanted her money, paparazzi wanted her fame, her manager wanted her image. Charlotte couldn’t even remember the last time she went on a date where he didn’t mention her list of accomplishments or her net worth.

“Charlotte,”

The voice startled her, her eyes widening as she whipped around. “Harry, oh my God,” she laughed softly, hand covering her heart as her eyes crinkled in a smile. “Good morning.”

Harry tilted his head at her. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t know that was the photoshoot,” he started walking towards her, frown prominent on his face. His hair was a bit more unruly than usual, like he had been tugging at the strands and making them frizz. His eyes had a red ring around them, his lips chapped and bitten.

Charlotte frowned. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” She offered kindly. “I agreed to it,”

Harry scoffed. “Your manager agreed to it,” he corrected. “I was looking into canceling it. I know the pictures are already taken, but I was thinking I could convince them not to release it.” His eye contact was so intimidating Charlotte had to look away, blinking down at the tile on the floor of her kitchen.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s impossible, anyway,” she laughed humorlessly.

Harry slid into the barstool on the other side of the island. “Yeah, that’s what they told me.” He grabbed a cup of coffee Charlotte offered, thanking her quietly.

If Charlotte thought hard enough, it felt domestic. He lived with her, spent meals with her, drove her everywhere. Of course, it was only because he was paid to, but sometimes she thought that was the closest she’d ever get to a long-term partner. She rarely got into conversations with him that didn’t involve her safety or her agenda for the week, but his presence was always there, and it seemed to calm her.

Harry watched as she hesitantly peered out the window at the crowd below them, then opened the cabinet to read the nutrition label on the granola bar she pulled out. He furrowed his eyebrows—she always did that, and he always caught her frowning at her appearance in the mirror, like she hated what stared back. It made him angry; millions of people saw how beautiful she was—he saw how beautiful she was, why couldn’t she see it?

She didn’t know, but he noticed all of her quirks. He noticed how she always tied a bow in her hair before an interview (he swore she thought it was good luck), how she hated smoothies but always drank them when one of her pilates friends would drag her to the health bar, how her favorite perfumes were always flowery with a pink tint. He even knew that her favorite flowers were white tulips, even though he’d never seen anyone buy her any.

He watched in soft yearning as she huffed at the calories written on the bar before tossing the empty wrapper in the trash and disappearing into the hallway. She was getting more frustrated and upset by the day, he noticed. She needed help.

—

That night, Charlotte was ready to rip her hair out. Her eyes were so heavy she swore she fell asleep on the elevator up to her apartment, her heels squishing her feet into inhuman shapes. Harry was permitted to leave early since they had dinner with her manager, and she was almost certain he was in bed by now despite the early hour—Harry was a man of routine.

She pushed open the door, sighing softly in relief when she kicked off her shoes and pulled her hair from its tight ponytail. When she wandered into the kitchen, though, something caught her eye.

A wicker basket filled to the brim with candy, a bouquet of white and pink tulips sitting just beside it. Her eyes widened and her heart plummeted. What if it was her stalker? What if he had found her apartment?

It was only until she noticed the crude scrawl of Harry’s handwriting that her fear subsided and a new, overpowering feeling collapsed in her chest. The note attached to the tulips read;

Hi Charlotte,

Hope you like these flowers, they smell like your perfume. I know this week was tough, maybe these tulips and candies will help. I’m always here for you.

Love,

H.

Her lip wobbled as her eyes filled with tears, her thumbs digging into the thin paper as she read the note over and over again, memorizing each dip of his pen and mistakes in his penmanship. 

Harry was quiet, never revealing his feelings towards her. This could be anything from a professional helping hand to a jaded spill of his feelings. She had no clue, but she knew the note accomplished what it intended to do—she didn’t feel alone anymore.

Harry was here. Harry noticed her. Harry wanted to help.

Tears spilled from her eyes and created wet spots on the note, forcing Charlotte to look away and peer into the basket. She wrinkled her nose at the sheer amount of junk food, piled to the brim of a large basket intended for fruits. Letting her curiosity overcome her, she picked up a chocolate bar and flipped it over.

Only to find that the nutrition label had been blacked out by Sharpie, run over multiple times to make the marker opaque. Her heart lurched as she quickly grabbed a bag of gummy worms, flipping it over to find the same fate.

Harry had blacked out every single nutrition label on the gifts he had given her.

Charlotte let her tears flow freely now, knowing Harry will hear her burst of emotion and most likely regret ever extending an olive branch, but she couldn’t seem to care. With shaky hands and teary eyes, she placed the tulips in a vase and placed it on the windowsill, kneeling down in front of it to admire each flower against the backdrop of a dark city.

“Got my gifts?” Harry was leaning against the doorway of the living room, hands shoved in the pockets of his red plaid pajama pants, curls tucked behind his ears.

Charlotte whipped around, sniffling softly. “That was so sweet, Harry. I love everything,” she gushed, eyes watering once more at the reminder that this boy in front of her cared enough to reach out to her. “I don’t want them to ever die.” She laughed, looking back at the bundle of tulips tucked against her window.

Harry swore his cheeks began to heat despite never blushing before. “You know I have your back, right? Not just because it’s my job,” Harry’s voice was quiet; he said it was because he never spoke and had a hard time projecting his voice, but he knew it was because he was nervous.

Charlotte turned back to him, rising back to her feet. “You don’t have to lie,” she said softly. “I know it’s part of your job. I’m happy either way,”

Harry frowned. What didn’t she understand? He was obsessed with her, he needed her to know. “Sending you flowers isn’t in my job description, Charlotte.” He prompted, taking his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms in front of him. The usual stony expression crossed his features as he stared down at her, his posture straightening to tower over the small girl.

“Then why else would you?” Charlotte was confused. She paid him—that was why he stayed. Every smile and jive between them was simply for a paycheck to her.

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “Sleep on it and figure it out, princess.” He turned back towards the hallway, not looking back once as he closed the door to the bedroom behind him.

Charlotte groaned, leaning back against the window and closing her eyes for a moment. Princess. It wasn’t the first time he’d called her that nickname—she assumed it was because she was prissy and under constant surveillance, but she never asked Harry the origin. She was afraid of the answer she’d receive if she asked.

But his tone of voice sent shivers down her spin. Figure it out, princess. He seemed just as frustrated as her; they never communicated like normal people, but they’d never had a problem with their limited conversations until now.

Had he noticed all those times she would watch him do push-ups in the living room? Had he finally read through her gestures of gripping his hand when he guided her through crowds of people? She was embarrassed if he had—although she’d disguised every touch and excuse to stay near him as a way to feel safe, she knew it was much more than that.

Her dream that night left her covered in sweat, waking up at one with the sheets tangled around her feet. She ripped off the hoodie that was now drenched and laid in her tank, staring at the ceiling.

She barely slept for two hours, her mind running with every possible meaning behind Harry’s. And the obvious seemed the most plausible—he was into her. She wasn’t stupid, she knew it was a possibility, it just seemed so far-fetched. Sure, she’d never seen Harry with a girl since he moved in a few months ago, but she thought he was maybe in a dry spell. It’s not like she had been with a guy, though she blamed it on the fact she only seemed to attract assholes—not on the fact that she was crazy attracted to the boy a few doors down.

Nerves flowed through her steadily as she rose to her feet, the cold hardwood stinging her toes as she quietly peered down the hallway. Harry’s light wasn’t on, she was sure he was sleeping. But she needed to talk to him; the delirium from the lack of sleep was kicking in, and she was confident enough to make stupid decisions at this moment.

The knock on his door was so loud it made her cringe. It was loud enough to wake Harry, who groggily sprinted towards the door while grabbing his gun from his nightstand. His shoulders dropped when he opened the door just to see his small girl chewing nervously on her lips. “Oh my fuck, Charlotte, I thought you were in danger.” He groaned groggily, dropping his gun down on the top of the wardrobe and opened the door wider for her.

“I’m sorry,” her eyes were impossibly large, like the motion startled her into a more clear headspace. “I just… had a thought.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, watching as she struggled to rip her eyes away from his shirtless, tattoo-covered chest. He always slept shirtless, hating the way the fabric would twist and turn around him when he slept, though with the way Charlotte was staring at him like he was a ghost, he figured he should dress himself.

“Wait! You don’t have to—” she cut herself off, cheeks flaming bright red as Harry paused from grabbing a t-shirt from the floor of his room. “I mean, I’m not bothered by it, but if you’re more comfortable.”

He let out a soft laugh. He knew why she was here. “What’s your thought, Charlotte? It’s late,” he prompted her gently, dropping back onto his bed and leaning back until he was halfway propped up on his pillows.

Charlotte blushed, her tongue suddenly tied. The confidence seemed to be draining her like a dam that had broken, and she was now felt as small as she looked. Squeezing her fingers together and rocking back and forth on her feet, she forced out the question plaguing her mind. “Are you into me?” She blurted out, the sentence coming out choppy and uncharacteristically loud.

He cracked a smile—had she ever seen him smile before? “What do you think?” He asked.

She wanted to kill him and his stupid smile. 

“Harry,” she groaned. “Just answer,” she squinted at him in complete annoyance, crossing her arms and staring at him with a glare so powerful Harry felt a laser boring into his face.

“Yeah, princess. I’ve watched you get less than you deserve for so long, I just… it’s not fair. You deserve everything,” he sighed, finally admitting what had been weighing heavily on his mind from the first time he met her.

Charlotte hesitantly lowered herself so she was perched on the very edge of his bed. “I’m pretty sure the entirety of the world disagrees with you.” She said with a soft frown, holding onto her stubbornness so she wouldn’t have to confront her own feelings.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t care. It’s me and you against the world, anyway,” he sat up, his presence suffocating her as he leaned in the slightest bit. “Look, Charlotte, if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. But I want to show you that you don’t have to hold onto this scared thought that everyone is against you. I’m not,”

Her lip wobbled once more as she tore her eyes away from Harry’s and settled them on the white fluff of his bedding. His tattooed hand was inches from where her knees were folded though didn’t dare touch her.

Surprisingly, it was Charlotte who made the first move. She slid her hand into his, like she’d done hundreds of times, and pulled it into her lap. He wordlessly rubbed the softest circles against the back of her hand, his eyes trained on hers despite her head being fully faced downward.

“Can I sleep here?” She finally asked. “Because I think I’m into you, but I need a trial run.” She teased playfully, meeting his eyes and squeezing his hand as tight as possible before releasing it playfully.

Harry rolled his eyes, but opened the covers for her to dip into. “Making sure the mattress doesn’t have a pea hiding under it, princess?” He teased, watching as she kicked off her fuzzy cream-colored slippers and slipped under the sheets, her legs bumping his.

She pouted. “Why do you call me that? Is it a mean nickname?” She asked, laying on her back with her hair fanning out into a crown, Harry’s elbow which was propping himself up just inches from her temple.

“No, it’s just… you’re a princess. It’s a good thing,” he explained with a soft shrug. “Royalty,” he added like it was an afterthought.

Charlotte blushed, reaching up to trace soft circles over the tattoo painted across his chest. “Princess,” she reciprocated thoughtfully. “How did you know my favorite flowers?” 

Harry’s eyes traced her figure, drinking in every detail of her silhouette. “I know all your favorite things. Peanut butter ice cream, coffee with vanilla, a really dark color of blue—”

She cut him off with a kiss. A long, passionate kiss she tried to pour everything she couldn’t say into. He noticed her, even when she thought she was hiding herself. And he didn’t use it against her; he used it for her. She nudged her nose against his, shivering when he climbed over her, transferring his weight to both elbows so he hovered over her.

He was everywhere—his hair falling into her face, his scent enveloping her senses, his belly pressed against hers. “—how you haven’t kissed anyone since that stupid photoshoot in Rome.” He finished, pulling away with the softest smirk.

Charlotte tucked his curls behind his ear. “Guess I have to make up for lost time,” she answered cheekily. “I thought you left that photoshoot early, though.” She pouted, finding it hard to focus when her eyes kept drifting back to his lips, now slightly swollen and a shade darker than previously.

Harry shook his head. “Had to go break something,” he answered before rolling off of her. “He was getting too touchy.”

Charlotte let him lay beside her, his hand traveling down to hold onto her thigh. He was touchy, she noticed. Not that she minded; it gave her peace of mind knowing Harry was right there, knowing she was safe with him. “Yeah, he was,” she agreed softly. “I love those flowers. And the candy,”

Harry smiled. “I’m glad,” he replied.

—

She woke up warm, a heavy arm thrown across her stomach, a steady presence pressed against her back. She couldn’t stop smiling, her hand touching the thick one on her belly, the back of her thighs pressed against the front of his.

He was breathing heavily, a soft snore emitting every few seconds. She thought it was cute, though. Somehow, he looked intimidating even in his sleep—not to her, though. He looked like her protector even in his sleep.

When she shifted slightly to grab her phone off the nightstand, his grip tightened and his breathing pattern became interrupted. “Not yet,” he mumbled sleepily, pulling her back into his chest. His voice was raspy, his eyes still closed.

Charlotte swore her face would split in half if she smiled any bigger. “Harry, I’m hot,” she whined softly. “Let me go.” She giggled, elbowing him gently. Harry groaned louder, his hands tightening around her waist.

Huffing in annoyance, she flipped over in his arms and faced him, reaching up to tap his lips with her pointer finger. After the sixth or seventh tap, Harry finally opened his eyes. “Let me sleep, princess.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it into his chest, his eyes fluttering shut once more.

“Can I still kiss you today?” Charlotte asked, biting back a laugh when his eyes flew open and he nodded vigorously. “That means you have to wake up, though,” she reasoned, pulling her hand from his loose grip.

“I’m awake,” he answered, eyes widening as he tried to blink the sleep away. She granted him with a soft peck, though his dissatisfied groan had her deepening the kiss, their tongues tangling together in a hasty rage of trying to get closer.

Her mind was spinning and blank all at once, thoughts filled with different shades of Harry. His hands tugged at her cotton tank, falling to the hem of her matching shorts, then back to the strap of her shirt. He moved from her lips to her jaw, down her neck, then to her shoulder, all the while leaving a trail of sloppy kisses.

She gasped, letting him push her onto her back as he worshiped her skin, finding every nook that made her twitch or let out a breathy moan. When he dipped down to her collarbone, she arched her back. “What? You want more?” He teased, his large hand fanning out across her stomach, dangerously close to her peaked nipple.

She nodded excessively. “Please, Harry,” she whispered, then paused, backing up slightly. He froze too, eyes snapping to hers.

“What’s up?” He asked, her fingers digging into his shoulders where she was grabbing him.

“I wish you were the only one to see me like this,” she groaned, head falling back on the pillow with her eyes closing in embarrassment.

Anger flashed in Harry’s eyes. “I never looked, you know,” he said quietly. “Felt disrespectful. And I’ve been trying to cancel the release. They’re being bitches, though.” He added, climbing up her body so their eyes were level.

“You’re perfect,” she said quietly. “Like, really perfect.”

Harry laughed. “Charlotte, I punched a door because some random dude kissed you for a shoot.” He rolled his eyes. Charlotte instantly missed his warmth when he rolled away from her.

“I think that’s hot,” she stated, sitting up and running her fingers through her tangled hair. Harry laid on his back, hands folded over his sternum. “And… if you’ve never looked…”

His head shot up when he felt her climb into his lap, ass resting dangerously close to his crotch as she tugged on his wrists. He couldn’t seem to form words when he saw her play with the hem of her tank top, pulling it up just enough to show a sliver of her belly. “Charlotte…” he warned, eyes locked on every inch of skin that was slowly becoming more exposed.

“What?” She asked innocently, tugging the fabric up the rest of the way and leaving her top bare, the chill pebbling her nipples. He let out a strangled groan, eyes fluttering closed before opening once more, like he was addicted to her.

He pulled himself up, hands grabbing at her hips as he smashed his lips onto hers once more. It was all passion and heavy breaths, her hands shaking as she arched herself into him, craning her neck to meet his kisses.

Morning light filtered through the windows as he dipped down to continue his trail of kisses until he found her breasts, kissing sloppily against the flesh as she leaned back to give him more room. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, laying her back and palming her breasts as he trailed hot kisses down her stomach.

She was starting to get restless, bending her legs at the knees as they opened just wide enough for Harry to push himself between them. “How long has it been, princess?” He asked, thumb resting just barely over the wet spot in her shorts.

She bucked her hips against it for any semblance of relief. “I-I don’t remember,” she stuttered, pupils blown out as she waited with a tense stomach for Harry’s next move.

“Been that long, sweetheart? Must be aching for me, then, yeah?” He teased, watching as she unashamedly nodded, her head bobbing and falling back as he pressed his thumb against her clit, hard enough it had her moaning out.

“Aching, yeah,” she repeated mindlessly. “Can you take my shorts off? Please, please?” Charlotte asked, Harry groaning softly at her willingness to comply. She was dirtier than he thought, and it made him harder than a rock. He swore he’d never been so turned on in his life.

He slid the cotton down her legs, pushing the white cotton of her undies back. She was dripping wet, her body practically singing for him as she wiggled her hips in a sorry attempt to gain non-existent friction.

“Want my tongue, Char?” He asked, voice deep and pained as he stared at her heat, fingers digging into her thigh so hard he was sure he’d leave bruises. Bruises he made, bruises everyone would see and wonder. But they would know.

“Please,” she slid her fingers through his curls, tugging at them and sending a shiver down his spine. “I’ve h-had dreams about you—a-about this,” she gasped when he dove into her, tongue thrashing through her slit and sucking on her clit.

He took his time, finding what made her legs shake and how to make her breath hitch. “Dreams about me? I’m flattered, princess,” he pulled away, her wetness dripping down his chin, his pupils dilated and his finger haphazardly finding her clit and rubbing in brutal circles as he caught his breath.

The rhythm had her legs twitching uncontrollably, a breathy laugh falling from her lips. “Y-yeah, oh my God, Harry, can I have a kiss?” She removed her hands from his hair and back down to his shoulders, hips bucking against his fingers as he moved back up her body to kiss her hard. Hard enough his lips would be bruised and sore.

The second he dipped his fingers inside her and curled them against her walls, she pulled away and slid her nails down his chest. “Gonna cum,” she whispered, her voice already fucked-out as he kept up the mindbending pace, lips attaching to her jaw.

The noise that escaped her throat as her body contracted and tensed around him had him thinking he died and went to heaven. Her warmth flooded over his hand as she shook and whimpered softly, sloppily meeting his lips with her eyes closed. “Holy shit, I need to be inside you or I think I’ll die.” He groaned, hands shaking and eyes shutting as he shuddered when Charlotte’s greedy hands tugged at the hem of his sweats, pulling them down his thighs.

“Please, H,” she whispered.

There was only a split second when their bodies were pulled apart so Harry could situate them, but it felt like forever. “Gonna be good? I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry asked, hands climbing to the underside of her ass and tugging her against him.

The view was sinful—her petite, flawless body pressed against his dark swirls of ink and scars—and only made it hotter for Harry. “So good,” she promised, hair now a frizzy mess around her head.

He pushed himself in slowly, pausing as her features pinched up in pain. “Wait, wait,” she whispered gently, letting him fold himself over her body to kiss her forehead. “You’re so big, oh my fuck.” She gasped as he moved forward another inch.

She was so tight and hot, his entire body was on edge. He couldn’t come now, that’d be horribly embarrassing, but he swore it was almost inevitable as she gripped him impossibly tighter. “Princess, relax,” he said gently. “Let me in, baby, it’s okay.”

Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck, frowning in a soft pout. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to—”

“You’re okay, silly girl. Just need you to relax a bit, hm?” He asked softly, tapping her hip as he pushed further. Her muscles relaxed—finally, Harry thought he was going to suffocate—and he slid all the way in, breathing hard through his nose as he struggled to regulate his breathing. “Fuck, Char, you’re incredible,” he groaned, giving her a testing thrust and watching as her mouth dropped open, her eyebrows furrowing.

It took him a minute to find her sweet spot. He was concentrating, moving her legs at different angles and watching how she reacted. When she spasmed and whimpered, her arms flailing out to grab onto his wrists on her hips, he knew he found it. “What is that—” she gasped out in shock, throwing her head back as Harry pounded into that spot over and over, his hands tightening and his eyes closing.

“No one’s ever fucked you like I have, yeah? Can’t find your sweet spot like I can?” He taunted, watching as she squirmed beneath him, pushing back on his thrusts as her body jolted forward. “Can you feel me in your tummy, baby?”

Charlotte whimpered, opening her eyes to show a hazy sheen, her head lulling to the side. But she complied with his request, one of her hands sliding down her belly to touch just below her belly button.

It was subtle, but she felt a soft thud every time Harry pushed into her—and it had her drenched. “Oh my God, H, feel,” she grabbed one of his hands and put it beneath hers. He pressed his hand deeper against her belly, meeting his cock beneath her stomach.

“Princess, I’m not gonna—fuck, Char, can’t squeeze me like that,” Harry shut his eyes tight once more, dropping his head to her shoulder as she giggled playfully. “You’re so perfect,” he mumbled so quiet it was almost like she wasn’t supposed to hear his confession.

Charlotte gasped, a knot tugging against her belly as Harry’s thrusts got sloppier, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing uncoordinated circles. “Please, I’m gonna cum, H, please, please,” she chanted, though was sure her words were just a jumbled mess of vowels at this point.

Her body felt like jelly as she came around him, his fingers making her immediately over sensitive as bursts of flowers bloomed around her eyes. “Oh my God, Charlotte, fuck,” she vaguely heard Harry’s grunts as he spilled into her, buried so deeply inside she could feel the contents of him slide through her.

She was twitching with aftershocks as he collapsed on top of her, hips bucking in sensitivity as he rested his head on the pillow beside her. “Jesus Christ,” he finally spoke, picking his head up to meet her eyes.

She smiled lazily. “I feel so good right now,” she giggled softly, reaching up to play with his curls. He slid out of her only to lay so close he might as well have kept himself tucked up inside her warmth, letting Charlotte play with his hair as if time was nothing more than a distant concept.

“I like that name. H,” Harry hummed, squeezing her hip. “Gonna keep calling me that, princess?”

Charlotte blushed, turning on her side to face him. “Only when you deserve it, Harry,”

—

Harry grabbed her hand, tugging her behind him as she used his body as a shield against the cameras. She was leaving an event early, an idea she asked Harry to execute for her. She had one too many vodka crans and her vision was hazy, and if she stayed any longer she knew she’d accidentally flash someone with the tiny dress her manager made her wear.

“Watch your step, princess,” Harry warned, eyes widening in shock as she tripped over her heels trying to climb into the car. She huffed in annoyance, looking back at his stony face (a face she’d grown to hate once she saw what his smile looked like) and turned pink in embarrassment. “Up you go.” He said teasingly, grabbing her waist and lifting her into the car.

Before she could chastise him, he had the door shut and was on his way to the other side. “Got tipsy,” she grinned at him as he started the car.

It had been three days since that morning, and they didn’t seem to speak about it, but things had changed. They were so busy they barely had time to speak about business, let alone pleasure. She slept in her room, but she never slept as well as that night she spent in Harry’s. Sometimes, late at night, she debated sneaking into his room again, but she always chickened out.

“Am I gonna have to hold your hair while you puke tonight, Your Majesty?” Harry teased, sliding his hand to her thigh comfortably and squeezing the flesh there playfully.

“No, lady’s don’t puke, silly goose.” She swatted at his hand as she looked out the window. “But tomorrow morning’s meeting is going to be rough.” She giggled gently, her eyes widening at the thought of showing up hungover to the weekly talk with her manager.

They fell into a serene silence, but Charlotte’s mind was whirring. Harry hadn’t made any sort of move to touch her again after that—sure, he’d hold her thigh when he was driving or her hand when he was navigating her through crowds, but it wasn’t the same. She wanted to repeat that morning over and over until she was satisfied. Which would never happen, but she wouldn’t admit that to Harry yet.

The city roads were strangely empty, and she found herself watching Harry’s hand as it turned the wheel smoothly, lifting up to rub his chin or run it through his hair when they were stopped. It made her stomach flip and her fingers shake.

“Why are you avoiding me?” She blurted out—and immediately blamed the outburst on alcohol.

Harry turned toward her for a moment. “Char,” he said softly, sighing. “You’re technically my boss.”

She frowned. “I didn’t hire you,” she reasoned. “My manager did.”

Harry groaned, dropping his head to the seat rest at a red light. “It’s not that I’ll get fired for seeing you, it’s that your manager will probably kill me.” He said finally, his jaw clicking. “He’s been trying to set up some relationship between you and actual royalty in England, princess. I can’t keep you,”

Her eyes began to water, her jaw dropping. She knew Harry had meetings without her, but she never thought about what they could be talking about. But dating a prince was not something she thought could be a topic of discussion.

Until it all clicked. Princess.

Bile rose in her throat.

“Oh,” she managed to choke out, a few tears slipping down her cheeks, her thigh beginning to burn where Harry was touching her. He quickly removed his hand, deciding to grip the gear shift instead. Her mouth opened a few times, but when nothing came out, she abandoned her attempts.

“I just want the best for you,” he said quietly. “And if it’s safe in some prissy kingdom with a prince that has better security than me, then I want that for you.” Harry pulled into the parking garage of her apartment, the silence in the car becoming suffocating.

Charlotte didn’t speak to him for the rest of the night. She fell into a fitful sleep and woke up with a nasty headache, dreading the moment Harry would emerge from his room and she’d have to see his handsome face; the face she had only once.

Her tulips were wilted and drooping, the water in the vase almost completely evaporated, but she made no attempt to refill the glass. As a future princess, she was sure she’d get many more flowers, she couldn’t be arsed to take care of them as if they were priceless.

read part 2 HERE

[nativegirltapes]

princess!reader ────୨ৎ──── the people's princess

one of the sweetest girls you'll ever meet. she's been acting since she was 9, starting with small commercial gigs, moving onto disney shows, and even eventually landing her first role in an A24 movie; playing halley in "the florida project". and finally getting her big break in one of the newest romance movies; "we live in time." for her role as almut alongside with her love interest tobias, played by drew starkey.

she comes from very humble beginnings, which has really helped her be grateful for all the loved she's received on her projects! she lives in LA, but rarely stays there due to having to constantly go back to her hometown to help her grandparents out, who raised her.

princess!reader is more on the introverted side. she's more of a listener and observer but can talk your ear off when she's comfortable with you. she’s got a close knit group of friends who has stuck by her side through good and bad times. her shyness shouldn't fool you though, she'll always take an opportunity to stand up for herself or others she thinks deserve justice.

princess!reader who often finds herself taking on roles that are the exact opposite of herself. she loves a good challenge! when getting into character she’ll make playlists, visits places she thinks her character would visit, reads books her character would read, and try her best to surround herself with people her character would act like.

princess!reader who always puts her work first! she's not in it for the fame, power, or money. she's in it because she loves it and couldn't see herself doing anything else. the fame kind of overwhelms her but she does her best to show up and out for her fans! she promised herself she wouldn’t fall for one of her costars, but ultimately broke that promise after meeting drew starkey.

[billsxmm]

Passenger princess. (b.e.)

bsf!billie x fem!reader

warnings. slight smut, not proof read. (sorry for poor language in some places.)

—————

One moonlit night, your best friend took you out to go on a ride, as you often did. it was 3AM, dark outside, only the yellowish soft, street lights coating the cars interior through the windows. some quiet music coming from the radio.

billie had one of her hands on the gear panel, and the other gripping the steering wheel. the watch on her wrist glistening a little, as she looked over at you from the passenger seat. the windows were slightly down, as the cool air breezes through your hair, as she watched you, her eyes sparkling. you were so pretty.

billie always been attracted to you, of course- you were gorgeous, but to add to it, you had the sweetest personality ever. and she knew and saw it from the first time she laid her eyes on you, even if unfortunately, that day, 2 years ago, she got to know about your boyfriend, she still couldn’t help but fall in love. she didn’t care about your stupid boyfriend.. she could treat you so much better.

and now her soft fingers gripping your thigh, going just slightly under your skirt, didn’t help at all.. she was nervous, scared to push too much, even if you two had always been touchy. but you never seemed to mind one bit. slightly spreading your legs for her hand.

billie looked at the empty road in front of them again, that shit-eating grin on her pretty face.. as she slowly moved her hand higher up your thigh. she was toying with the fabric of your skirt, so nonchalantly, if she isn’t already shaking herself.

she hit the brakes, speeding up. exactly like your heart. you loved when she went fast. you would go anywhere she takes you..

one moment, and you felt her hand reach the lace of your panties, her fingertips against your heat, as you let out that soft whimper. it was over for her. next thing you know, the car was stopped, and her leaning over to you.

“Backseat.” she whispered, her tone laced with desire, like she couldn’t wait to have you. the look in her eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Oh, this was gonna be a long night..

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋdie for you.ᡣ𐭩

after an attempt on your life, the royal family turns to promising young blood, hoping to find someone to protect you. katsuki was chosen and ended up dedicating himself to you in a way even he never predicted.

✩pair. knight!katsuki x princess!reader tags. fem!reader, royalty, no quirk au, swords, violence, pet names, reader is referred to as she/her, fighting, fluff, happy ending, wc. 7k

✩note. this is like really old, i decided to let it graduate from draft jail while i work on the otherr

A sword at your throat. the familiar weight of your crown on your head.

that's all that you processed before it faded to black.

who knew a walk in the garden would be so dangerous? the attempts on your life were growing more frequent by the day, the recent tensions between your kingdom and the villages surrounding it just fueling the violence.

of course, this, much like the other three attempts in the past week hadn't worked. the witches and wizards around you successfully poisoning the man holding you and killing him instantly.

it barely shook you anymore, the feeling of waking up in your bed safe and sound after being threatened. perhaps you were getting too used to the sensation of being in danger.

but this didn't help you in the case of your mother, who worried, and rightfully so. they had called you into the grand courts the next morning, giving you a day of reprieve before letting you in on the plans.

“[name].” your father, the king spoke. his eyes looking sorrowfully down at you, as if he pitied you. “we will be searching for new crowns guard members and keeping you under full time surveillance from now on. these attempts are

becoming more and more common, and you have no means of defending yourself.”

you sighed, crossing your arms. “i don't have any say in this? being under constant watch is disgraceful.”

“my dear, it is only what's necessary! i argued over this in your stead for days, but with these recent attempts.. it is what needs to be done.” your mother pleaded with you.

a moment of silence passed over, thoughts flowing like a waterfall through your mind. knowing she had the final word, you bowed in mock agreement. “i give you my full permission to do whatever needs to be done.”

“very well then, fetch me the fresh blood.” the king barked. “only the best, i want a good bunch weeded out before the trials.”

at this, the consultants bowed and rushed out to the villages. the trip to the village was almost an hour away, and people working for the royals were not very favored at this moment because of the strained relationship. the horses led them to the villages, the sound of their stomps the first evidence of the new arrival's presence in the town.

katsuki, who had been sharpening his swords outside, was the first of the young men in the village to see the royal carriages arrive. with a glare, he waltzed over to the central square, where many others had already gathered.

“i apologize for the intrusion!” a man, wearing silks worth more than a house stood, speaking quite loudly. “we have job opportunities for any young soldiers in training! if you pass the king’s trial, your family will be greatly compensated. any willing to enter, please,” he stepped over to gesture to the carriage with empty spots. “gather your belongings and settle into the carriage before sundown. thank you!”

katsuki scoffed, looking over at the other imbeciles who thought this would be their big break. did he care for royals at all? no. but this would be a way to climb to the top. a way to become a big name. so, he'd go.

he walked right back to his mother's store, a tailoring business, and starting packing. “i'm leaving.” he announced to her and his father, a satchel packed and swung around his arm as he looked nonchalantly.

his mother only waved a hand. “go do whatever you'd like, but don't die.”

his father, with a tearful expression, wished him good luck with a smile. “you'll do amazing son.. though i don't know where exactly you're going. you've always been destined for greatness.”

“of course i am. don't fail the business in my absence.” he turned and walked out of the only home he'd ever known, to go and see what these royals were all about.

he was sat next to a lot of the village boys he'd grown up with, a bunch of them must have lost hope, because the numbers dwindled down severely. with a smack of a whip, the horses began to move, guiding the now twelve men to the kingdom.

the estate was even more huge up close, the golden sunlight from the fleeing sun making the castle seem all the more impressive. even katsuki couldn't help but voice his opinion, muttering under his breath, “wow.”

they were dropped off in front of the main door of the castle, leading to the main chamber. the twelve nervously walked in, greeted by the sight of the king’s piercing eyes, and the queen's grateful smile.

“is this all who came then?” the king said, his voice bellowing throughout the castle. at a man’s nod, he began to address the villagers.

“you all, i offer my thanks for your participation. recently, multiple uprisings have been taking place in different villages. ones that have threatened my daughter’s life. we've done our best to keep this out of the news, so most of you have not heard of this before, correct?”

the boys all nodded, surprised at the revelation that the princess might have been killed.

“the reason why i sent out for you, is because i want not only a personal guard for my daughter, but a crowns guard protecting the perimeters of the castle. all of you, for even arriving here, will be getting paid handsomely.

but, to ensure only the best is personally assigned for my daughter, you will all be dueling right now.”

surprised gasps echo and bounce off the walls, none of them were prepared, but katsuki was determined to win even in this odd situation.

“you may be forced to fight in the middle of the night or the middle of a garden, being ready at all times is key for a successful knight. if you fall to the floor you lose, this is an all out battle, so do what you must to win.”

the queen personally handed out training swords made of wood to each of them, making them all bow in thanks. even katsuki felt honored in a way, the queen’s presence the very essence of royal.

they all assumed fighting stances. since there were no rules other than to stay up, it meant they'd need to be aware of all possible threats from any direction.

“begin.”

katsuki went in with guns blazing, knocking a man to the floor instantly. others charged at him at the same time, so with a timed dodge he made them collide, then eliminated them simultaneously.

it was obvious that the king had been taken by katsuki. his eyes locked onto him, small commentary between the queen and him as they examined the way he fought, his fighting style brute yet calculated.

there was now only three left, the weaker of the men being taken out the fight in a flash. katsuki let them take the first move, them naturally charging at eachother because of their proximity.

with a smart move, katsuki knocked them over as they were on the offense, kicking the other’s lower body to knock them over.

applause rang out through the court, servants and consults clapping for him. even the king and queen gave him their respects. katsuki could only smirk, he really was destined for greatness.

“it's decided then, you my lad, will be assigned to my daughter’s detail tomorrow morning. tell me your name.”

he pointed his sword at the king, making the servants appear applauded at his audacity. “katsuki bakugo. don't you forget it.”

the king could only let out a hearty laugh. “i don't think i could bakugo. as for the rest of you, you all fought valiantly. you will all be assigned your positions tomorrow by the head of the knights. bakugo, follow that young lady over there. you will sleep in only our best chambers.”

he smirked victoriously as he followed the older servant, his satchel in her grasp. with a polite smile, she walked with him down the hallways. he decided to question her about this princess, wondering if she'd be stuck up. “hey, lady.” he asked, making the girl jump.

“ah.. yes?”

“this princess of yours, how's she act? stuck-up?” he questioned, noting the way the servant’s eyes seem to get offended for her. “no, no! i've worked for many princesses you see, and she's been the most gracious one i've had the pleasure of serving.” he nodded to signal he was listening, as she continued.

“she has her moments of frustration, but never takes it out on her staff. she's a very kind princess, the future of this kingdom is safe in her arms. that's what i believe young man.” the lady finished, stilling in front of a large door. “this is where you'll be staying, the princess herself stays in the room across the hallway. from when she wakes up you will need to be there, so get some sleep.”

she opened the door, revealing a huge bedroom the size of his shop. the bed weaved of silk and linen, pillows feathery soft, a gorgeous window offering a view of the moon. there was even an area dedicated to just weaponry, not to mention his own private bathroom. he felt speechless as he was left alone there, the clothes he wore feeling unfit for this new environment.

he fell asleep pondering this new life of his. wondering if this was going to be worth the headache of being at some princesses hand and feet.

he was woken up by the same old lady, embarrassed of how deep of a slumber he'd been in. those sheets were heavenly, he'd have to get some for his parents back home.

he was given royal clothing, the cloth feeling light and refreshing on his skin. a purple band around his arm signifying his connection to you. as he put his sword on his back, he walked over to the room across his. he knocked on the door and waited.

the sight that greeted him made him think he had died and went to heaven. the old lady had never mentioned just how gorgeous you were, the silk night robe clinging to your figure in all the right ways, your face still dreamy from being half-asleep, your hair slightly messy from how you slept on it.

“hello?” you said, your hands holding the door open while eyeing the handsome knight outside your room. he was very clearly eyeing you, you'd be flattered if you weren't so sleepy. “are you my new knight?”

those words finally snapped him back into reality. “um.. yes. yes i am. im bakugo.” he replied, standing tall and at attention now. “oh, okay. come in bakugo. i'm [name].” you stuck your hand out for him to shake, but he had to bite back the urge to kiss it.

he didn't know why he was panicking so bad, this had never happened before. he had known several gorgeous women back in town, ones that had even come on to him, but you were on a different league to them.

he had always laughed and joked about those knights who'd willingly lay their lives down for a princess, but he'd never understood them more then when he was just in your presence.

he shook your hand tightly, before letting go and just standing awkwardly. “i don't really.. know what to do.” he said honestly. “you don't have to watch me all day, just don't leave me alone. i think.” you said before going back to lay on your bed. “i don't have any meetings or stuff today so, i can give you a tour around here if you want? i don't feel like just doing nothing all day.”

“anything you want princess.” the words had slipped out his mouth before he could process it. he'd smack his hand over his mouth if he could, but he didn't want to embarrass himself further. you didn't seem to notice his turmoil though, stretching and walking over to your bathroom. “okay, that settles it then. you can lay on my bed while you wait for me bakugo.”

you changed into a casual everyday dress, choosing the one with the easiest corset to tie yourself. basic makeup and hairstyle aside, you walked out ready to take him around.

after styling your hair, you grabbed his hand off where he was sat on the bed. “let's go!”

you were going to be the death of him.

your words were barely processed as he was enthralled by the sight of you. your mouth was moving yet he couldn't hear anything more than the sound of his beating heart. your skin was glowing, lips soft and plump, eyes shining and full of intrigue.

his hands grew sweaty, he hoped you didn't notice as you pulled him along with you for the fifteenth time today. you'd finally finished he though, until you revealed you'd only gotten through one floor. you laughed at his distressed expression, and brought him out to the garden instead.

“this is my favorite spot.” you admitted, taking him to farthest side of the garden where you could get a view of the village. his village. “i wish i could visit, it seems so.. inviting, you know?”

“that's where i live.” he pointed to the house on the edge of the village, although it was small from his perspective, he could recognize the cloths laying outside from miles away. “my family owns that shop, i practiced outside there everyday.”

your eyes grew wide, smiling at the news. “really? that was you? i always saw someone running around there.”

he flushed, he'd never realized he'd had an audience. especially not a royal one. “youre not lying right?”

“of course not. people watching is all i really do out here, besides almost get killed you know?”

“huh.. those are two very interesting hobbies.” you smacked his arm playfully. he decided to keep telling you about the village. pointing out the villages, explaining what happens inside, telling you about his daily life back there.

he felt your eyes on him the entire time, though thankfully he was starting to get more used to your presence.

they had brought dinner out for the two of you, the spread being larger than katsuki ever had in his dreams. the amount of meats, salads, cheeses, and wines on the table would've lasted his family for months he thinks.

“choose whatever you'd like bakugo.” you invited. he nodded and started to eat, you did too. most of the items went uneaten though, you two getting full before even eating half of it.

“it's okay, they'll save this so don't feel bad.” you assured, taking his hand a final time. “i'm kind of sleepy though so, i'm gonna head to bed.” he followed you back to your room, feeling like a boyfriend leaving his girlfriend at her home when you left him with a, “goodnight bakugo.”

the next day was one where he actually had to work. sitting around your bed as the servants surrounded you, tightening the corset around you, doing your hair, and finishing off with your makeup. he followed you and your entourage as they led you to the meeting room.

he stood by your chair as various other royals came up to you and your family. he was surprised at the utter lack of awareness they seemed to have, asking for large sums of money and help with no embarrassment.

'aren't rich people supposed to be fancy? why do they ask for things more than the poor?’ he pondered, looking down at you and your bored expression.

for some reason, the topic of your hand in marriage was a recurring topic whenever the foreign royals didn't seem to get far. they'd talk about you like some object, a prize to be won.

all you'd do was yawn in boredom your father denying every request that day. no wonder everyone wanted to murder you.

a knife was flung at you faster than anyone could process, the only sound was the unsheathing of katsuki's sword in response. he was now in front of you, the knife in his hand as the guards swarmed the royal who had attacked you.

the king and queen looked at him in respect, as you did in awe.

that happened a lot more over the months, you and him grew closer and closer, but any public meeting where your attendance was needed would be a hotspot for potential attempts.

you had started to grow enamored with him too, his name slowly changing to a more familiar “katsuki.” his presence being by your side even when it wasn't required, you would test the bounds of his physical affection more. the sight of you two hugging as you read was not a strange one anymore, in fact it was preferred for the both of you.

he used to only had seen you as a stepping stone for his success, a rock in the bridge for his assent to victory. but as he held you in his arms, hearts in his pupils as he doted over you silently, he knew he was too far gone.

late night talks turned into affection shared between you. forbidden kisses and pleasures untold as you held eachother through the night.

his room began to dust, his bed going unused as he'd be with you eternally. it became an armory more than anything, as whenever he'd finish up any business he'd find himself running back to your side. he wished to live eternally there.

he was in his room once, disrobing after spending another day with you. he was lost in thought, before he heard you scream. he ran out, sword unsheathed, eyes rabid and wide as he saw the tip of a sword pressed against your neck, blood dripping down as the offender held you as a shield.

“you're a villager too aren't you? don't you realize with the death of the princess the kingdom will surely fall?” the man spoke, deepening the sword into your throat as katsuki gripped the hilt of his so hard he thought it'd snap. “i am a villager. im a villager at heart and in soul. but killing someone without any affinity other than blood is purely idiotic.”

the man scoffed, throwing you to the floor and making you groan. his boot pressed onto your back as his sword hung over your vital organs. “i see. you choose to be a dog.

even so, if you do behead me here it will achieve nothing. we want change, change that cannot be achieved without th–”

“shut up.” katsuki swung his sword through the heart of the man. “don't look up [name].” he directed, before throwing the man out of your window where he had broken in from. he watched as he fell to the ground, the blood of his body painting the pristine white roses red. he closed the window, closing the blinds just for precaution. you were looking at him, eyes wide and white with fear. your hands shaking

he looked at you, an expression in your eyes you couldn't place. the hilt of his now bloodied sword was still tight in his hands, until he let it drop to the floor.

he held his arms out, letting you crash into him and confide in his protection.

you sobbed in his arms, this attempt was different, it was calculated. you were all alone, and scared. he stitched your neck up, the blood spilling all over your dress as you whimpered in pain. you didn't want to be left alone now, not ever again. katsuki didn't leave your side though, he slept with you through the night. being there when you woke up.

he held you through the morning, no words leaving his lips. your eyes were swollen from crying, you face buried deep in his chest. he had a thoughtful expression on his face as he caressed you, suddenly pulling you out the bed with a determined look on his face. “trust me.” was all he uttered before leaving the room.

he dragged you down to speak with your father in the morning, he decided he was going to voice his opinions whether you liked it or not. “katsuki no! my father hates being questioned, please listen!”

as you begged him not to, he pulled you along like a ragdoll. “we have to do this princess, it's for your sake and mine.”

that silenced you for the rest of the walk, he didn't have to pull you as harshly now, walking beside you with your hand tightly gripped in his still.

you finally made it to the king's quarters, where he looked surprised at the sudden intrusion. “bakugo, [name], what are you two doing here?”

“why not just change the kingdom and appease the people instead of letting your daughter get hurt over and over? her neck had to be stitched together yesterday, and a man's corpse is rotting outside her bushes.” katsuki ranted, finally letting his inner turmoil's out.

“it's not your job to question me. silence now.”

“i don't think i will be silent, king. you'd rather let your daughter potentially die than give a bit of money to the poor? you hear out so many royals, so many failures of your rich society, yet you can't give an audience to the people who've built your wealth?”

silence loomed over the room, you'd never seen your father so angry. he bitterly laughed, clapping his hands. “so passionate, i knew you village peasants were interesting.”

“father, don't speak of them li–”

“silence. both of you.. since you believe that my kingdom isn't up to your standards.. do you realize that you are committing treason?”

your eyes and katsuki's shot up, you stood in front of him and started to plead. “father no! he was trying to protect me!”

“i know what is best for this situation. [name], leave the room. now.” the king ordered. you looked to katsuki for a brief moment, begging him silently to remain cordial, before waiting outside the door.

“come here boy.” he ordered to katsuki, making him walk closer hesitantly. the king started to speak with a smirk on his face.

“i will not be changing the way my kingdom was built solely because a couple peasants are starving to death.”

katsuki’s eyes widened, he continued. “my kingdom was built on this bloodshed, this suffering. a paradise where all are equal is just a fantasy, besides,

i can always have more children if she dies, i'd just prefer for my wife to not be upset at her death.”

katsuki felt nauseous as the king grew a sick smile on his face. “i like you. i see myself in you. i will give you two options lad. one: leave and do not utter a word to her, go far away and speak nothing of this. or two: i can strike you down right now and act as if you threatened me first.

how about it, peasant?”

katsuki packed up his things silently. ignoring your questions, the heaving of your chest as you begged him to stay. the tears staining your dress, the fear he knew would strike you at every moment.

you had turned him around, forcing him to look at you. to look at those eyes filled with tears just for him, the stitched up scar on your neck, the feeling of your hands pulling his. “katsuki.. why– why are you doing this? did he say something to you?” you hiccuped. “just answer me! please!”

the only safe response he could give you? none at all. he ripped his hands out of yours, breaking both your heart and his as he did so.

he walked away from you, not looking back as he entered the carriage that'd take him to a village, from where he'd have to walk a bit further.

he tried not to think of you, but how could he not when he saw you in everything? in the golden sun that served to mock him, in the grass that flowed freely in the winds, in the flowers that sprung from the ground.

he could never leave you behind. not your memory.. and not you yourself. as he sat in a tavern, drinking his sorrows away with the purple band clutched in his hand, he overheard a group of men speaking.

“so we do it next week, we have to kill the king.” they whispered, cloaks hung over their heads as they pointed out locations on a map. he was walking over before he even realized it, the group staring at him as he examined the map. he thinks it was just his liquid courage, or maybe it was just the desperation to go see you again.

“this is all wrong. the castle isn't laid out like this.” he muttered, grabbing a marker and starting to correct it. “hey– what are you doing man?” a red-haired man spoke.

“i'm fixing your map. you wanna kill the king right? i do too.”

“oh, awesome man!” he cheered. “sit next to us random guy.” he patted the seat next to him as katsuki sat down, finishing up the changes on the map.

“how do you know all this stuff?” a red and white haired man spoke, eyeing him curiously. “i was a knight until yesterday.”

this made them all gasp. “well.. guess that means you'd know it the best then, huh?” a green haired one spoke, “we really want to do this right so, help us with our strateg–”

“you can't kill the princess. that's my condition.” the group of five collectively eyed each other in confusion. “uh.. that's fine i guess. weren't really planning on it.” a yellow haired guy replied, “but we just want the king down. if you wanna keep her safe that'll be your job then random guy.”

“bakugo.”

this prompted them to go around the table introducing themselves. kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, midoriya, and shinsou. they had a mix of magic and manpower. but the only way they'd pull this off would be with immense planning. well, them anyways. he only had one goal: to save you.

the plan was for him to go to your quarters and escape with you while they caught the king by surprise. they'd need to cast spells and put the guards to sleep, the only blood they wanted to shed would be the king himself’s.

katsuki sighed. they had a week to prepare, but he didn't know what he'd do for that week away from you. he fell asleep to the thought of you, training vigorously for the chance to apologize. to take you with him, to build a life with you if you'd grace him with it.

to take you to meet his parents, his village. to show you how life entails, what it could be for the two of you:

during the day he'd train, detailing the schedule of not only the king but the servants around, the guard’s hours in full. he'd slash trees and bang rocks in anger and frustration over the cards you two had been dealt.

at night he'd ponder what to say to you. how to approach you, how to confess what had happened. how to convince you to leave with him, leave your life of luxury for one of uncertainty. a lifetime of uncertainty just to live with him.

the more he pondered the more he'd groan in frustration, which would make kirishima smack him on the head with a pillow. “go to sleep.”

he'd grunt and fall asleep to the moon, the same one you'd be looking at too.

you hadn't been faring well since he left. your days consisting of crying and screaming. you didn't leave your room, you didn't attend meetings or your classes. you didn't go to your spot in the gardens, the sight of the village mocking you, knowing he was so close yet so far.

he had rejected you. he probably hated you, the words from the man who wanted to kill you had stuck in his mind and now he was disgusted by royalty such as yourself.

your handmaids approached you with the caution you'd give to a baby, talking to you as if you were on the verge of a breakdown every second, which you were.

you hated that you'd let him into your life so easily, how much he held over your heart. you hated your feelings for him and how safe he made you feel.

what you hated the most was that you didn't hate him at all, you realized as you stared at the haunting moon, not knowing he was looking at it while thinking of you too.

days passed and it was time. they had spent the previous day traveling, bribing some horse traders to let them in through the gate. they all wore cloaks and had magic that would allow them to communicate throughout the kingdom together.

they all split up, katsuki by himself as he fled to your section of the kingdom. they all fled to surround the king.

not like he cared for that old man. all he wanted was to see you.

he noted how they hadn't bothered to clean the blood spilled on the rose beds under your window, the window that he started to climb. he hung on the windowsill as he peeked in to see you, with bloodshot eyes holding yourself. you looked as if you hadn't slept right in days, a look of paranoia over you.

he knocked on the window making you jump. at the sight of.. him with a cloak on? you scurried over, opening the window as he hopped in. “[name], i uh.. i came back for you.”

“why did you leave me in the first place katsuki?” you looked despaired, your hands clenched into fists as you stared at him.

“i.. i don't have much time. and i didn't have much time then. but i need you to come with me [name].”

“what?”

“we need to leave this place. you can't be here for a couple days and i can protect you. please [name].” he bowed down to you, pleading for you to just trust him though he didn't deserve it. the communication magic was setting off rapidly, they had made contact with the king already.

“get up katsuki, just– i'll go okay?” you said, helping him up. “but you're gonna explain everything.”

“right.” he helped you pack a bag full of essentials for you, helped you change into a dress that allowed for more mobility. he helped you down the window, holding you tight as you fled down the castle walls. he even let you keep your crowns and jewelry, your rings and things you'd loved from your birthdays.

you'd boarded the stowaway carriage, waiting for his ‘partners’ to get back. he neglected to tell you they were here to murder your father, the king, but from the spell tugging in his head he knew.

it was a success.

you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, cuddled up to him, snoring slightly. he held your hand as he held you close, you were so knocked out even the yells of happiness from the rebel group didn't wake you. they escaped into the night, kaminari and kirishima teasing katsuki about his relationship with you.

“no wonder you wanted to save her so bad, you're in love with the princess.”

“we can officiate your wedding man! as long as you don't want actual papers–”

“shut up.”

the rest of the ride was filled with that mockery, the rebels filled with excitement of what would become of the kingdom. the king was dead, the queen and princess were missing. well, the princess was safe and sound by katsuki’s side in actuality, but it's not like the townsmen knew that.

you woke up to the feeling of being carried, it was already dawn, the sun had begun to awake. katsuki was carrying you to a house of some sort. your arms wrapped around his neck, your eyes half lidded from sleep. “morning 'suki.” slipped from your lips as you yawned.

he looked down at you with a small smile. “good morning [name], we have uh-.. things to talk about. a lot of things.” he was nervous, you could tell from his tone. he set you down on a bed before sitting beside you, holding your hand.

“so, would you like the good news or the bad news first?” he asked you, avoiding eye contact. “bad news? what bad news?” you questioned, examining both him and yourself for injury. “well, your father is dead and your family has been dethroned.” he said quickly, not allowing for pause.

your eyes shot up in surprise, and just as quickly.. you.. yawned?

you weren't having much as a reaction as he planned for, he planned to have to beg you to stay, console you as you screamed out in terror, but you looked almost unimpressed. “i mean.. he had it coming. he treated everyone horribly, i hope mother is alright though.” you muttered. “anyways, the good news?”

he was flabbergasted to say the least, but he continued. “uh.. yeah. since he died the villagers usurped the throne, destroying the royal structure of the land.”

“can i keep my crown?"

“sure you can.”

“then it's okay with me.”

“oh..”

“is something wrong..?”

“nope, uh. thats all.”

“so, can we explore the village today?”

“yes, yes we can.”

he took you everywhere he imagined in his dreams. you got along with his mother, surprisingly. fitting in like a missing puzzle piece into his life.

wealth had spread throughout the lands, everyone prospering as the people had elected for a people run government.

you'd adjusted surprisingly well. your huge gowns had become modest smaller ones, your jewelry now gone and replaced with leather bands. you'd had to do chores now, jokingly complaining but honestly learning to like the mundane aspects of life.

with your knight at your side, now devoted to you in not only soul but heart, you knew everything would go perfectly.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @hiimsaraaandyou @amayaaaxx

@i-the-fluffo @uy242c @irenne-stans

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[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Knight in Shining Armor

Yandere Monster Knight x Princess Reader

TW: delusional Yandere, Yandere behavior, kidnapping (mentioned), etc.

Ajax had always been princess (your name)’s confidant and source of solace… so why did he have her cornered on the bed of the inn? His large, muscular frame towered over her as his body trembled.

“I can’t do it… I can’t let you marry some other man.” Ajax whispered, his metal mask hiding his expression. There was no doubt in (your name)’s mind that he was shaken up about something. She had no clue why he’d be so upset about her getting married…

“Ajax, it was bound to happen eventually. It’s my duty as the kingdom’s princess-“ (your name) gasped when he closed the distance between them. Ajax’s large palms pulled her into a tight hug. The force of the hug caused them both to land on the small bed with a soft plop.

“Ajax-“ Ajax placed a finger on (your name)’s lips to pause her words.

“I won’t allow it… I won’t allow some other man to sully you.” Ajax’s deep voice made her body anxiously shake. “Not when I’ve wanted you for so many years…”

“Ajax-“ (your name)’s eyes widened when he finally removed the mask that’s concealed his face for over a decade. Ajax was half orc? (Your name) hadn’t a clue and she had been with him for so many years…

“I’m half monster, I thought you knew.” Ajax chuckled as his crimson eyes flitted over (Your name)’s frozen form. She was now a helpless lamb trapped in the maw of the wolf. “It’s why the other knights have been so cruel to me… why the maids avoid me like the plague and your father wanted to send me to war.”

(Your name)’s eyes can only take on his scarred and burned face in shock. Why was half the skin on his mouth missing and his tusks filed down? Who had hurt him so much that he didn’t confide in her, his best friend? What atrocities had he faced while she remained none the wiser?

(Your name) were shocked when he bent down to show you his teeth. His tusks were clumsily filed down to almost look like teeth but they were still rather sharp. “I did the tusk work, but they grow back rather quickly. The skin on my face is still healing from when there was an assassination attempt on you from your future husband’s concubines. Bastard was going to pour acid on your face.”

(Your name) reached up to trace the scars on his face while Ajax gave her a soft smile. “Ajax…”

“You’re the only one who’s never treated me like a monster… you’re so wonderful and kind.” Ajax moved his large, gloved hands to hold her hands. “That old king doesn’t deserve you. No one does!”

(Your name) blushed when Ajax brought her hands up to his lips to press tender kisses over each of her knuckles. Despite how badly Ajax wished to ravish her, he must keep his composure.

“You took this amount of damage for me?” (Your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it made Ajax melt into a puddle.

“Of course I did. I will do anything for you.” Ajax moved himself to crouch on the corner of the bed, his head in a slight bow. Yet (your name) could feel the burning obsessed behind his crimson gaze. “I am in love with you. Madly, deeply, entirely devoted to you and only you.”

Ajax grasped (your name)’s bare foot and brought it up to his mouth to press tender kisses across the top of it. “I will love you until my skin rots off my body and I am nothing but bones. Yet even death could not separate me from you for I will be in every corner of your life like a permanent shadow of protection. I will protect you with my entire being and soul. I will haunt and dismember your enemies if you so much as give them a glance of distaste.”

(Your name) felt her blood run cold when Jax gave her a bright grin that reopened a few of the stitches across his cheeks. The blood dripped down his face and onto her foot, but he merely lapped it up with his longer tongue. “Now tell me… is what I feel not love? I may not be a handsome prince but I swear I’m your knight in shining armor.”