Imagines And Such

Prince Wrath

 During a Crisis

Instinctively, he steps forward to lead since he is the General. but when you steps up first with clear authority. Then he stops, watches, and lets you take command.

Every order from your mouth is a spark in his chest. His golden eyes darken with each confident command knowing he had found his equal. 

If soldiers hesitate to follow you, his voice cuts through: “Did you not hear my general?” (He definitely is not above dropping a mountain on anyone who questions Wrath’s equal.

When it’s over, he’s bruised, bloody, and proud. “You were magnificent,” he says simply. As he plots how he will get you down to the Hell library for a reward.

 In Court

His patience for politics is thin, it’s one of the things he does not particularly enjoy about ruling. So he’s grateful when you handle it with precision. The first time you dominate a negotiation, he sits back on his throne, smirks and murmurs, “You just conquered without lifting a blade.” Courtiers learn quickly, when you speak, Wrath’s silent approval is warning enough. Do not mess with what is his.

If a courtier challenges you, you can bet he will level the courtier if you don’t beat him to it. 

He loves seeing you fight passionately for what you believe and if you exhibit his sin while doing it…oh he will be waiting to kick everyone out of the throne room to show you what you do to him.

After meetings, he pours you demonberry wine himself, muttering, “I’ve never found diplomacy so attractive.” 

Your composure reminds him that strength isn’t always loud, sometimes it’s elegance with teeth.

In the Bedroom 

He loves it when you set the pace. Especially when you have that look of conquering. Oh! Wrath is telling you that he is at your command.

Loves being challenged; your control sharpens his restraint. Though he also loves testing your control too…

When you touch him with purpose, his breath catches, and he admits softly, “You undo me more efficiently than war.”

Sometimes he will let you chain him up. But be prepared for him to flip it on you later.

In Domestic Life

Pretends to complain about you giving orders, but follows them to the letter. 

Loves calling you his queen/king whenever he can. 

You organize; he builds. You cook; he taste-tests (happily! He’s the Cannoli King). You two function like a battle-honed team.

He loves pushing your buttons with minor things. Anger is his aphrodisiac. He knows what he’s doing.

Loves domestic simplicity because it feels like peace, and you are his peace.

Your leadership at home reminds him not all battles require armor.

Prince Pride

 During a Crisis

His instinct is to lead, but watching you do it makes him pause in genuine admiration.

If someone questions your orders, his sharp tone ends it: “My wife/husband speaks for both of us.”

He doesn’t like being overshadowed, yet your brilliance feeds his pride instead of wounding it.

He, like Wrath, will often sit back and watch you with admiration as you take the lead.

Later, he tells you in private, “I’ve ruled centuries, and still you make me feel like I’m learning.”

He boasts about your victory to everyone afterward…in extensive detail.

 In Court

Stands a step behind your throne or sit on the arm of your throne deliberately, the perfect show of support and power combined.

Corrects anyone who addresses him instead of you: “You were speaking to her/his Majesty, were you not?”

Thrives on your dynamic; you grace and his grandeur. Together, you two command every gaze.

He definitely would love to compliment you in front of his court. 

Afterwards, he praises you endlessly, voice thick with affection and ego: “No one commands a court like my queen/king.”

Every triumph of yours feels like his because, in his mind, you’re an extension of his own perfection.

 In the Bedroom 

When you take charge, he fights the urge to tease you, then loses the battle entirely. “Trying to impress me, love?”

I am convinced Pride would love you taking control. Having him on his knees worshipping your body. 

Secretly revels in it. It humbles and excites him in ways he’ll never admit aloud.

Watch your every move with reverence, memorizing the way you lead. Tracking how slow your fingers move, removing clothing or slowly tracing your fingers along his body. 

Will praise you afterward, softly but seriously: “That was... regal.”

Finds your power intoxicating because it mirrors what he values most, control executed flawlessly.

 In Domestic Life

Declares he’s in charge, yet follows every plan you make.

Making this canon too mwahaha, he can get needy… following you everywhere and hating when you go off on your own to do a task or travel.

Loves the way she commands servants, schedules, and routine like a queen/king of small empires. Occasionally rearranges things just to see you reassert authority, it’s his version of flirting.

Says things like, “You make domesticity look divine. I almost envy it.”

Prince Greed

During a Crisis

Finds your leadership enthralling, crisis or not, he’s captivated by your confidence.

Like his brothers, he will quietly watch with pride in his eyes as you take the lead. 

He loves when you are in charge.

If you’re shouting orders, he’s already in motion, ready to give you whatever you need to succeed. 

He’ll eye his soldiers who move too slowly or hesitate with a warning glare. 

Loves how you don't hesitate to claim control; to him, that’s a prize worth hoarding.

When it’s over, he murmurs, “You just proved you’re the rarest treasure in all creation.”

Never lets you forget that your competence is his greatest obsession. Definitely praising you in many ways afterwards.

 In Court

Proudly indulgent; supplies you with gold, jewels, and arguments that make you shine. 

He definitely makes sure your wardrobe is as deadly as your words. 

Whispers mid-meeting, “Take it. It’s already yours,” when negotiating.

Treats your victories like trophies.

Defends you fiercely against any insult, no one devalues what he treasures.

He might take a page out of Wrath’s book and remove a tongue or two. 

After court, he rewards you with lavish gifts as if to say: Your success is worth its weight in everything. And he will reward you on his throne.

 In the Bedroom

Watches you take the lead like a worshiper at an altar. This demon prince will happily get on his knees for his love.

Your confidence is the most expensive thing he owns, and he knows it. 

Loves praising you and reminding you that you are the most valuable thing he has. 

“You own me,” he will tell you as you take the lead in the bedroom. 

Whispers, “Command me, love. I’ll never tire of your demands.

Responds to your authority with indulgent praise and devotion..

In Domestic Life

Buys whatever you need before you even ask because having you comfortable profits him emotionally.

Loves when you take charge of his house of sin; it means you’re s claiming something he also loves.

Collects your routines like treasures: the way you hum, organize, and plan.

Your domestic life is luxury and laughter in equal measure.

Prince Gluttony

 During a Crisis

Panic doesn’t last long; seeing you step up steadies him. 

Becomes hyper-focused on your voice, following your commands without question.

The more chaotic the scene, the calmer he gets under your leadership.

If you are leading a hunt with him, you can bet he is plotting how he will celebrate your leadership later that night.

When it’s over, he teases lightly to mask his awe: “Didn’t know watching you save lives would be such a turn-on.”

Deep down, he’s addicted to your confidence, it’s another flavor he craves.

In Court

Let's you dominate conversation while he lounges with a drink, eyes full of pride.

Definitely has two thrones for you two. He wants everyone to know you are equals

In the beginning he may not have the second throne so he has you sit on his throne and lead from there while he sits on the arm or stands beside it. 

Interrupts only to affirm you with lazy charm

If someone insults you, the mask drops and his smile turns venomous. But he doesn’t step in unless you allow him to. He know you can handle your own.

Afterward, he brags to his circle: “Did you see Y/N? I could dine on that brilliance for years.”

He is definitely feasting on you on his throne after court. 

Adoration is his constant, you contro his favorite indulgence.

 In the Bedroom

Loves to obey. It’s not submission; it’s devotion in its purest, hungriest form.

Want to tie him up? He is ready! Want to tease him until he questions his faith? He will happily do it! But be prepared for him to take back control later and reciprocate with even more effort. 

Every soft command she gives makes him melt. “Again,” he’ll whisper. “Say it again.”

Finds peace in letting you guide pace and rhythm. 

He loves when you push back against him or boss him around. 

When you’re in control, he feels fed; emotionally and spiritually.

Afterwards, he thanks you like you are a meal that nourished more than his body.

In Domestic Life

If you’re cooking, he’s right there to taste-test and compliment everything. He might also try to assist but cause more distractions than anything. Lets you control your routine. He enjoys watching you make order from chaos.

Jokes that you’re the only person who can curb his excesses.

Loves slow mornings where you’re  the one directing your time together.

Every mundane task becomes a feast when you’re the one in charge.

He often plans the dates but when you lead he loves it because it reaffirms your love for him.

Prince Sloth

During a Crisis

Appears detached, but you know that’s when his eyes narrow, he’s thinking.

If you take control, he lets you, quietly lending advice only when needed.

When you fix a problem he predicted, he just hums approvingly.

Later: “See? Told you you’d handle it.”

Crisis solved, he’s already planning a trip to the sauna with you before taking you to bed to read and snack.

 In Court

Leans back, letting you manage conversation while he watches you shine. He knows you got this and don’t need his help.

Steps in with a perfectly timed remark that ends arguments instantly.

Your leadership is his rest. You keep things running, he ensures they stay efficient. 

If anyone doubts you, his soft-spoken words carry enough weight to crush reputations.

After, he thanks you for saving him hours of talking. A lazy smile on his face as he watches you take a seat on your throne, tired of the day.

In the Bedroom 

Loves letting you take control. It allows him to study you and track each bit of pleasure for future use.

Loves you steady rhythm and confidence. “You’re my peace,” he murmurs.

Your authority melts into intimacy and calm.

Your moments together are quiet, balanced, and grounding.

In Domestic Life

Will follow your lists without complaint, if you write them for him.

You two definitely have a mini bookclub where you take turns choosing a book for the week. When it’s your turn to lead he lets you. His attention to you.

Appreciates your organization because it means fewer interruptions to his naps and reading.

You keep things running smoothly; he keeps things peaceful.

When you scold him for dozing mid-task, or sneaking off during a party at one of his brother’s circles, he smiles: “You run this place beautifully. Why would I interfere?”

Domestic life with him is unhurried harmony.

Prince Lust

During a Crisis

Focuses entirely on you; your voice, your expression, your command. This demon ignores anything else.

Encourages you subtly: “Yes, love. Keep going. They’ll follow you.”

His charm becomes weaponized to back you up, drawing attention so you can lead.

Afterward, tells you, “You were breathtaking. Power suits you.”

He definitely rewards you afterwards.

Your confidence, to him, is the purest kind of allure.

Wouldn’t be surprised if he is plotting ways to worship you after you skillfully averted a crisis for him.

In Court

Stands close, deliberately making you the center of attention.

Flirts with danger by letting you lead; it thrills him to see you handle the crowd.

If nobles underestimate you, his smile turns razor-sharp: “Underestimate Y/n again. Please.” Lust would challenge the noble. Don’t let his lightheartedness fool you. He could be just as wicked as his brothers.

Later, he tells you, “You don’t just command them, you seduce the whole room with grace.”

Every time she takes charge, he falls a little harder. And he shows you how hard he has fallen.

In the Bedroom

Your authority excites him. 

This demon prince is kinky, you know he is happy to let you lead knowing that it will bring you both immense pleasure.

He lets you guide everything, not as surrender but as worship.And he loves to worship.

Whispers, “You’re divine like this. Don’t stop.” Especially if you are on top. He enjoys the view.

Sees you confidence as beauty incarnate, it inspires his gentlest affection. Power and trust intertwine, that’s Lust’s real devotion.

 In Domestic Life

Constantly teasing you while obeying your directions to the letter. 

Loves watching you plan and organize, it’s your way of caring, and he knows it.

Says things like, “You rule even our mornings, darling. I’m helpless.”

Prince Envy

During a Crisis

Can’t help but watch you lead with a mix of admiration and ache.

If you outshine him, it stings, but only briefly. Then pride replaces the envy.

Always follows your orders, even if his jaw is clenched the whole time.

Afterward, he’s quiet, murmuring, “You were incredible,” almost shy.

Each crisis teaches him your power doesn’t lessen his, it strengthens both.

 In Court

Stays silent but observant, watching the way the court responds to you.

Pride and jealousy flicker like a duel behind his eyes.

Tries his hardest not to argue or undermine you. 

Definitely makes sure your wardrobe makes others envious. 

Also makes sure his gestures to you makes others envious too.

If anyone tries to undermine you, his venomous wit ends them with precision.

Later, admits softly, “You made them all look small today.”

Secretly adores your confidence because it makes him feel chosen by someone extraordinary.

Worships you on his throne. Definitely putting that mirror to use. 

“Look at my queen/king, first you conquer my court and now me.” He says while you ride him.

 In the Bedroom 

Finds peace in your command; it reassures him that you want him.

You control his insecurities. “You still want me?” he’ll ask softly.

Loves the gentleness behind your confidence, it’s dominance without cruelty.

Watches you lead, awed, and whispers, “You’re everything I can’t be, and I love you for it.”

In Domestic Life

Sulks when you rearrange things, but secretly likes the order. Especially when you pick the artwork in his house.

Acts jealous of your efficiency but depends on it.

Occasionally insists on helping, even if he’s terrible at it, just to feel useful.

Later apologizes: “You’re better at this than I am. I just… wanted to matter.”

Your steady control gives him something solid to hold onto in his storms.

He secretly loves when you give him words of affirmation. 

Prince Sloth was not one to often give into one of his brother’s sins. He was careful, calculating and as many believed, one who enjoyed the quiet. So coming to a house Lust party to watch one of Lust’s favorite demons dance and laugh and flirt was not something any of his brothers had expected him to do. And yet… Here he was not off in a corner reading but standing at the edge of the dance floor nursing a glass of champagne as he watched and studied the form of his new fascination. 

“Sloth?” Lust asked curiosity in his charcoal eyes, there was also a hint of amusement because Sloth had asked for entry into his circle four days in a row. “What exactly are you doing?”

Sloth reluctantly peeled his eyes from his fascination to look at his brother. “Can I not just visit?” Not a lie because it was a question. He was surely not going to confess to an infatuation with one of Lust’s emissaries who had appeared in his circle with communications from their prince. He was definitely not going to confess how y/n had captured his mind in ways no text had ever. No, Lust would run with this information and gossip to no end and somehow scare off his emissary.

Lust arched an elegant brow, swirling his wine as if to mask the wicked grin tugging at his lips. “Visit? My dear brother, the day you choose to ‘visit’ a party rather than avoid one is the day Wrath takes up embroidery.”

“Perhaps I’ve turned over a new leaf.” Sloth says, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Or perhaps,” Lust drawled, stepping closer, “you’ve turned your gaze toward something particular. Maybe my adorable emissary who I have been sending to your circle for months now?”

Sloth’s eyes flicked back to the dance floor despite himself. You were laughing again. Head tilted, light catching on your throat as you spun away from your partner. It was the kind of laugh that carried warmth into places that had long been cold.

He swallowed. “They’re... spirited.”

“Spirited?” Lust echoed, amusement gleaming like a knife. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

Sloth’s voice stayed even, but the hand around his glass tightened. “It’s a compliment.”

“Mm.” Lust leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial purr. “Then why is your pulse doing that? You look like a starving man pretending he doesn’t smell bread. If I didn’t know any better, I may think you are toeing the line of my sin.”

Sloth’s jaw flexed. “You see hunger everywhere, brother. It’s your curse.”

“And yours,” Lust said softly, “is thinking you can watch without wanting.”

Sloth turned to respond—but you were suddenly there, crossing the floor in a shimmer of laughter and movement, a touch of perfume trailing behind like a spell. You offered a polite bow to Lust before your gaze found Sloth, mischief lighting your irises.

“Prince Sloth,” you greeted, smiling just enough to undo him. And it was working. “You look... awake tonight.”

He blinked, momentarily forgetting to breathe. “I was told it’s impolite to sleep at another prince’s gathering.”

You laughed, the sound lighting something low in his chest. “Good to know you can be convinced to stay upright when properly motivated.”

Lust’s smirk deepened. “Careful, little one. You might just be the first creature in existence to tempt him out of bed for something other than a nap.”

“Temptation is your circle’s specialty,” Sloth said, his tone even, but his gaze didn’t leave yours. “Perhaps I’m simply appreciating the craftsmanship.”

You tilted your head, curiosity softening your grin. “And you would know how to appreciate it, given your extensive library.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Your library has a whole section on the art of seduction,” you pointed out, “I noticed it during my last visit. Surely that means you are well versed in the topic to appreciate it. Perhaps you can show it to me on my next visit.”

Lust let out a strangled sound and you just gave him a wicked smile.

For the first time in centuries, Sloth didn’t have an answer ready. He only watched you. Your mouth, your eyes, the small, deliberate pause before you turned to walk away. Every instinct in him, ancient and slow, screamed to let you go. To return to stillness.

And yet… 

His hand twitched, as though reaching out might keep you there a second longer. He didn’t. But the want was there, coiling tight in his chest, heavy and unfamiliar.

Lust leaned closer, whispering with a smile that wasn’t unkind. “Careful, brother. That’s how it starts. One look. One heartbeat. Then you’ll know what it is to ache. And y/n will make you ache.”

Sloth stared into the champagne glass, its golden bubbles reflecting the light of the dance floor and the way your laughter carried through it. As you returned to the dance floor.

He didn’t answer. But his next breath trembled like a man who’d forgotten how to sleep. He was losing his steady control to an emissary.

Lust watched him a moment longer, clearly savoring the rare sight of his brother coming undone. “You know,” he murmured, taking a sip of his wine, “I should have sent them to your circle ages ago. Look at you—standing, talking, even blinking on occasion. You don’t even have a book in your pocket! I daresay they might be performing miracles.”

Sloth didn’t rise to the bait this time. His gaze remained fixed on the dance floor, on the way your hand brushed your partner’s arm as you turned, the soft light catching the curve of your smile.

“They are playing with you,” Lust said, his tone fond and cruel all at once. “And it’s working beautifully.”

Sloth’s fingers drummed once against his glass before he set it down. “They are intelligent,” he said evenly. “Observant. Curious.”

“Dangerous combination,” Lust hummed. “Especially when they know you’re watching. That smile wasn’t for their dance partner.”

Sloth’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re imagining things.”

Lust’s grin widened. “Am I? Then why are they glancing this way again?”

Sloth’s heart stuttered, just slightly, but enough that Lust’s sharp gaze caught it. You were indeed looking in his direction, amusement flickering across your face like a secret you weren’t yet ready to share.

You raised your glass to him in silent toast, lips curling around the rim as though aware of the effect it would have. Sloth’s composure fractured by a hair’s breadth.

Lust’s laughter was quiet, wicked. “Oh, brother. You’re doomed. You’ve mistaken curiosity for safety. Do you know what happens when curiosity decides to test its theory?”

Sloth tore his gaze away at last, but it did nothing to loosen the knot in his chest. “I’ll handle it.”

“I bet you will,” Lust purred. “And when you inevitably fail, do send me an invitation to your downfall. I’d hate to miss it.”

But Sloth barely heard him. He didn’t care if Lust gossiped to his brothers. He was infatuated, enchanted by you. Because as the night waned, his mind was no longer on the party, or the crowd, or even Lust’s smirk. It was caught on the echo of your words:

“Perhaps you can show it to me on my next visit.”

A challenge wrapped in silk. 

And Sloth, the careful, calculating prince who never chased anything, realized with quiet horror that he wanted you to ask again. He wanted to show you everything. He would show you everything. Because he liked being around you. Desired your laugh and voice when you left.  He needed more time with you. Craved your scent. Wondered what you would taste like… He was a scientist and he wanted to know everything about you. 

When he finally left the party, the first hint of dawn catching in his pale hair, the champagne glass was empty and so was his composure. He’d spent centuries mastering stillness and patience, yet one mortal heartbeat from you had stirred him to motion.

The halls of House Pride were trembling. Ice crawling up the walls and floor as Pride moved quickly through his house of sin looking for Y/N. 

The stained-glass skylight cast fractured gold across the marble, but the beauty was lost on him. His magic pulsed in erratic bursts, rolling like thunder beneath his skin. Servants had long since fled. Even the marble lions carved along the pillars seemed to avert their eyes from their master’s rage. His subjects quivered when they felt their prince's wrath, reliving when Lucia had left him all over again.

She was gone.

He had searched every corridor, every garden, every balcony overlooking the city below. Her scent lingered faintly, a trace of warm honey and parchment, but her presence was gone, snuffed out like the last candle in a storm.

No note. No message. Nothing.

Just silence. When he awoke that morning to an empty bed. 

His jaw locked until it ached. “Not again,” Pride whispered. The words trembled against his control.

The last time he’d felt this way was when Lucia had left. No explanation. No farewell. Just her absence echoing through eternity. He’d spent years pretending it hadn’t destroyed him, pretending that kings do not bleed as he drowned himself in drink and lovers.

But they do.

And when they do, it burns.

He has thought y/n was different. That she wouldn’t leave him like Lucia. But maybe it was his pride talking because she was gone.

A shattering sound cracked through the chamber — the mirror above the mantle fracturing under his magic. Gilded shards fell like dying stars. His reflection stared back in pieces — a king undone by his own sin.

Then a ripple of energy surged through the air, heavy with divine heat and smoke. Wrath appeared in the doorway, black coat unbuttoned, golden eyes flaring with irritation.

“Brother,” Wrath drawled, though there was a warning edge beneath the calm. “I felt your temper all the way from my Circle. Care to tell me why your palace feels like it’s about to implode?”

Pride tried to ignore the unannounced visit. His brothers were not allowed to enter another’s circle without permission. He should stab his brother and send him back but he couldn’t. His pride and wrath was controlling him.

“She’s gone.” Pride’s voice cracked like ice. “Vanished. No one saw her leave.”

Wrath’s gaze sharpened. “Gone,” he repeated slowly. “You think she left you?”

The word left hit like a blade.

“I know she did,” Pride bit out, though there was uncertainty beneath the fury. “Just like Lucia. Just like—”

“Enough,” Wrath interrupted, his tone cutting but steady. “Don’t do this to yourself. Y/n is not Lucia.”

Pride turned, his silvery blue irises burning. “You don’t understand. I give everything, Wrath. Loyalty. Luxury. Love.” He spat the last word like it was poison. “And still they leave me. Do you know what that does to my pride?”

Wrath crossed his arms, unbothered by the heat rolling off him. “I know exactly what it does. It makes you blind.”

But before Pride could respond, the heavy doors creaked open.

A soft voice, the one that haunted his thoughts and dreams, that pulled him from his drunken depression years ago, broke the silence. “Pride?”

He froze. The magic flooding the room stuttered, faltered, then surged again with something sharper. Panic.

She stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed from the cold, hands clutching a small box tied with silk ribbon. “Where were you?” he demanded, the words leaving him in a snarl before reason could stop them. “Do you have any idea what—”

Her eyes widened at the volume. Her gloved hands tightening on the small box as if it would be a shield against him.

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. “I searched the entire court! I nearly tore through the wards looking for you, and you—” He broke off, pacing like a caged thing. “You vanished. Without a word. Without—”

Her lip trembled.

And then he saw it. A single tear sliding down her rosey cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice small and trembling. “I wanted to surprise you.”

The words cut through the wrath like a blade through silk. His fury collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but silence and regret. The realization hit him with such force he staggered a step back.

Wrath exhaled softly behind him, murmuring, “I’ll leave you to it,” before vanishing in smoke. 

Pride’s throat constricted. He reached for her. Stopped. Then finally touched her cheek, thumb catching the tear. “You… wanted to surprise me?” he managed, voice low, raw.

She nodded, holding out the small box. “I went into town. You’ve been working so hard… I thought—”

He took the box with trembling fingers. Inside, nestled on velvet, was a gold lion pin shaped with delicate artistry; his crest, refined and humanized, as if she had tried to soften the symbol of his arrogance into something tender. It was one of the sweetest gestures anyone had done for him. She didn’t expect anything in return like most would. It was one of things he loved so much about her.

His chest ached. The wrath was gone now, replaced by something heavier: shame.

“I frightened you,” he said, though it wasn’t quite an apology. His pride wouldn’t allow that word to leave his tongue.

She sniffed, nodding faintly.

“I thought…” He exhaled through his teeth, his voice a quiet rasp. “You had left me. Like she did.”

Her gaze softened. “I’m not her.”

“I know.” His jaw tightened. He wanted to say I’m sorry. He wanted to beg for forgiveness. But his sin strangled the words before they could form. Instead, he drew her closer, forehead pressing against hers. “Next time,” he said against her hair, “don’t go without telling me. Even if it ruins the surprise.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped her. “Yes, my prideful prince.”

He closed his eyes at that, the title both balm and curse. His thumb traced her jaw, reverent now. “You terrify me,” he whispered. And it was the truth, because she had been his undoing. Pulling him from his debauched rake persona. Sobering him with a laugh or making him want to drop to his knees with her sharp tongue.  She terrified him for many reasons but the fear of losing her scared him most of all, because he didn’t think he would survive her loss.

Her fingers curled into his coat. “Then we’re even.”

He finally smiled faint, weary, and human. “Next time, I’ll try to remember that love is not a crown I can command.”

She rose on her toes and kissed him, soft and forgiving.

The music swelled, low and thrumming, echoing through the bonfire circle like a heartbeat. It was one of his outdoor parties.The flames painted the grass in gold and crimson, and bodies moved in rhythm, sin given shape and breath.

From the edge of the dance circle Prince Lust watched, nursing his third glass of demon berry wine as if that would dull the raging demon inside him.It was a rare sight indeed. Usually, he was the one in the center; hands guiding, lips teasing, laughter sparking with every movement. But tonight, his gaze was caught by someone else.

One of Sloth’s courtiers, if he remembered correctly. They weren’t supposed to move like that. Sloth’s followers were known for their languor, their half-lidded eyes and their noses often shoved in books. Most didn’t even bother attending his events. This one was different. 

Their movements were fire. Their laughter cut through the music light, unguarded. Every step defied expectation, every spin rejected his silent invitation.

Lust’s lips curved in intrigue.

He had tried to draw them in three times now. Once with a touch on the shoulder, once with a whispered invitation, and once, boldly, with an outstretched hand as the music slowed. Each time, they smiled, eyes gleaming with mischief, and refused.

It bothered him immensely. No one declined him. He was the prince of pleasure. His presence often incited skirt-lifting or trouser-dropping admiration within seconds of him giving that mortal attention. And yet, this demon hadn’t even blushed at him. What. The. Fuck. 

He took a long sip from his glass of wine, the rim glinting in the firelight. “You’re making quite the spectacle,” murmured Pride beside him, watching with an amused smirk. His brother was in a rather jovial mood at his expense no doubt.

Lust didn’t look away. “You’d think I’d be used to being denied by now.”

Pride chuckled. “You’re not.”

“No,” Lust agreed, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I’m not.”

The song shifted slower, heavier, heat rippling through the crowd. And finally, the dancer turned their head. For the first time, their gaze met him directly.

Lust felt it like a spark down his spine. It wasn't submission, nor temptation but a challenge.

They smiled and, instead of approaching, spun away again, vanishing into the crowd with a victorious laugh.

He exhaled a low laugh. “Oh, you’re going to be trouble.”

10 years before...

Silver Spoons & Sins 

Special Edition — The Crown Tour

Seven Nights. Seven Houses. One Calculated Lady.

SHE TOOK A WEEK IN EVERY HOUSE. Lady Lara Solaryn, rumored to be exiled from the Royal House of Seelie, was rumored to have visited the tables of our Seven Princes — seven courteous nights that now read like a careful audit. Witnesses whisper she sampled warmth and counsel, then catalogued what each House might lend to her ambition. Was she researching rule… or shopping for a crown? 

According to a source of House Gluttony, Lady Solaryn was graciously offered a position in one of the seven circles. After a failed assessment in the Sin Corridor, the seven princes graciously welcomed her into their houses of sin for a week each. Many say they caught Solaryn often flirting with the princes but had her sights on Prince Gluttony. 

When it was Prince Gluttony’s turn to host her, a source reported spotting Prince Gluttony and Lady Solaryn often in far intimate positions to be just research. It was quite odd to learn that she chose Prince Wrath’s circle in the end. Another source noted seeing Solaryn and Prince Gluttony shouting at each other in the halls of Gluttony’s house of sin, on the last night. 

Many speculate she is hoping to collect a crown. Will Prince Wrath be the next to endure her antics?

⚜️ Official Statement from His Highness, Prince Gluttony ⚜️

Issued to the Circles and Courts of the Realm (As recorded by the Gluttony Gazette and confirmed by Palace Heralds)

To my Circle,

In light of recent rumors regarding Lady Lara Solaryn and her time within my House, I find it necessary to offer clarification.

Let it be plainly stated: I have never courted Lady Lara Solaryn as consort, nor have I expressed desire to make her such. Acts of courtesy were extended in the spirit of hospitality, nothing more. To suggest otherwise is to mistake politeness for passion — an error unbecoming of any Court that values truth above titillation.

While I recognize Lady Lara’s charm and ambition, I must observe that ambition untethered by grace can often sour what was once sweet. Her choice to visit each House of Sin in turn was her own design, not mine; any implication that her presence was sanctioned as part of a courtship is false. Her week beneath my roof was spent in observation, not affection.

As for her recent declaration of loyalty to House Wrath — I wish her well. Though I suspect that path may yield more frustration than a crown, her pursuits are hers alone to bear. I harbor no bitterness, only the faint regret one feels upon tasting a fruit not yet ripe.

To my loyal subjects and admirers: let not gossip cloud our feast. Indulgence, after all, thrives on truth seasoned with restraint.

With tempered regard,

 — Prince Gluttony

10 years Later...

10 years. 10 years of careful avoiding. 10 years of avoiding the prince of indulgence for the sake of peace…or what I could call peace at this point in my almost two and half centuries of life. My life was complicated for many reasons. Lineage to start; I was the daughter of the late Amalie Solaryn, the former heir of Seelie, and Brannan Solaryn. I had an amazing older brother, Alyx, who had been my protector and rock against the courtiers and the king of Seelie, our grandfather Morgans. The thing was, Brannan was not my biological father. Lennox, the Unseelie King, was and he had ruined my life in many ways including being my biological father, but also implanting a spy Cialan, and kidnapping my parents during the engagement party to Cialan that lead to him killing them. Lennox was the cause to me meeting the seven princes (a story for another day) and my exile from Seelie, leaving my brother alone as the new heir. Alas, the reason for my 10 years of careful avoidance was not for Lennox but for Prince Gluttony. 

Courtiers of all seven circles were gathered in House Lust for the reception of Wrath and Emilia’s union, and as Wrath’s third, I was expected to attend even if an ex was here. I carefully stuck myself with Anir and Fauna for the beginning of the event. Wrath and Emilia had yet to arrive. 

“Stop looking at the clock,” Fauna teased me, as I stared at the clock again, “people will talk about how Wrath’s third was bored and counted down the minutes to escape.” 

“They wouldn’t be wrong,” I admitted as we moved around the room, “I am counting down the minutes to escape. Before someone claims I was glaring at the prince of indulgence or something far more idiotic.” Lara smiled as one of Lust’s courtiers smiled at her. 

“Oh he’s handsome,” Fauna whispers and Anir shoots her a look. 

“He is,” I agree as I watch the courtier for a little longer before glancing up at the clock again. 

“Lady Lara,” Lust drawls as he approaches his shirt barely on, “why do you look like you are ready to scurry away? Can’t be because my brother has made his arrival?” He smirks knowing that would get me to glance around for Gluttony. And sure enough he was standing beside Envy in a charcoal suit looking devastating – no horrific. Yes horrific.

“Well now that he is here, I definitely will be trying to make my escape.” I deadpan, 

Lust chuckles shakinghis head at me, “how will you insight my brother into his dramatic fits if you aren’t here?” 

“He will surely find someone to occupy him,” I hedge. Anir snorts. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

I moved quickly to the balcony. My steps hurried as I smiled at courtiers but did not stop. I could feel the weight of his eyes on me and I wanted them off me before the reporters picked what was left me in the decade they smeared my name to write the net scandal sheet.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the cool night air. Laughter spilled from Lust’s ballroom — golden, glittering, and unbearably hollow. The scent of rose wine and sin lingered on the wind. I gripped the marble railing until my knuckles whitened. I had lasted an hour. That was enough, surely Wrath would forgive me for an early departure. He had always been forgiving when it came to my departures caused by Gluttony.

Stop thinking about him! I scolded myself as I tried not to allow my hands to claw at my ears. It was the one tick I could never get rid of after years of being in the seven circles. 

“You always did prefer the edges of rooms,” came a voice behind me — smooth, rich, too familiar.

I froze. My heart stuttered once, twice, before I found the strength to breathe again. Of course he would find me. He always did.

“I thought I made myself clear,” I said, staring out at the gardens, refusing to turn. “I didn’t come here to talk to you.”

His steps were quiet, deliberate. “And yet,” Gluttony murmured, “you always end up where I am.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said tightly. “I was here first. You followed me. Now go away before you give your reporters more fuel.”

He gave a soft laugh, humorless and bitter. “Still angry about a headline?”

It was never about the headline and more about the admirers who took it as gospel to attack me for a decade. But I did not say that. I swallowed and then I turned, slowly, until his face was before me — that same impossible mix of warmth and cruelty, eyes a beautiful hazel. “You couldn’t just let me leave,” I said, voice trembling. “You had to make it seem like I was stealing your crown.”

“I told you I didn’t write it,” he replied, tone even but his jaw tightening.

“And ten years later, you’ve still done nothing to disprove it,” I bit out. “You’ve done nothing to find the one who did. Too convenient, isn’t it? A lie that made you look wounded and me… ambitious.”

His eyes darkened, frustration flickering across his face. “You think I wanted that? You think I—”

“I saw you,” I snapped, the words breaking like glass between us. “You told me you loved me. You told me to choose you and your Circle, and then you ran off to f—” I stopped, the breath catching painfully in my throat. “Tell me,” I whispered, trembling. “Did it give you joy to treat me like ex-fiance in Seelie did? To make me fall in love with you and then rip the rug from beneath me? Or were you waiting to do it once I joined your Circle?”

“Lara,” he said, my name a plea, “that’s not what happened—”

“I gave you everything,” I interrupted, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating off him. “I told you things I’d never said to anyone. My fears. My insecurities. My nightmares.” My voice cracked. “I gave them to you because I trusted you! Because I thought you’d keep them safe! You became my everything in that week, hells when we first met! And you used my heart against me!” I got louder and louder forgetting the open door anyone could and most definitely did hear us. I jabbed my finger at his chest with each sentence. I was done shrugging things off.

His expression faltered, the composure slipping like a mask. “That’s not fair—”

“Fair?” I hissed. “You have no idea what fair looks like. You broke something in me that I can’t get back. Did that feed your hunger? Your grace? To leave me bloodied as you played the victim!”

We stood toe to toe now, too close, too raw. The air between us felt alive — like lightning before a storm. His eyes searched mine, desperate, but I wouldn’t let him find what he was looking for.

“Lara.” Wrath’s voice came from the balcony doorway, cold and commanding. “Inside. Now.”

Neither of us moved. I stared at Gluttony, my heart pounding against my ribs, searching his face for truth, for remorse, for anything that would make the past ten years mean something other than what they were; ruin.

He opened his mouth, but I beat him to it. “Just fucking leave me alone,” I whispered, stepping back.

And this time, he did.

Y/n, was still new to Wrath’s circle. She yearned for the freedom to walk around and experience his circle without him scaring everyone off. After some convincing and Anir pulling Wrath to another meeting, Y/n was finally able to sneak off into the busy streets of Wrath’s circle. 

Shocked was not the best way to describe her expression. She imagined that there would be shop after shop of weapons and demons sparring and fighting in the street,  granted, there was, but there were also bakeries, book shops, a tailor, food stands and even a flower shop across the street. And the streets were bustling with cheerful demons moving back and forth between businesses and merchant stalls. 

With a shout of glee that startled a male moving past her, y/n hurried to the flower shop with a plan to get some bouquets for her and Wrath’s suites. Crossing the road she noticed a male in dark clothing eyeing her as he leaned against a wall. She didn’t pay any mind to it as it wasn’t uncommon to wear dark colors in House Wrath. But his eyes held a hunger she did not want to dawn on too much. The plan was to not gain more attention from him as she reached the shop.

The floral shop was gorgeous with walls climbing with florals. The shop keeper gave her a smile as y/n moved between the rows of florals before landing on a flower with petals the golden shade of Wrath’s eyes. She couldn’t help but grin at the thought of bringing these home to him. Something told her he was not used to receiving flowers but she wanted to make sure he knew how much she loved him as much as he loved her. Buying flowers for him was one of the many ways she could do that for him. 

“May I have a dozen of these flowers, please?” Y/n asked the storekeep. 

He beamed at her grabbing a dozen and carefully wrapping the bouquet. “Date night?” he asked, making small talk as he rang her up.

“Not tonight,” Y/n answered, pulling some coins from her purse. “I wanted to give my love some flowers because he is always caring for me.”

The shop keeps smiles, “sounds like a keeper.”

“Oh, he definitely is,” she agrees. “He is like my own guardian angel.”

“Guardian angel, aye?” he raises a brow still smiling at her while giving her change. 

“Hmm, guardian demon,” she amends. A thought of Wrath’s wings remind her that he was once an angel and that he would probably scoff at the title of guardian angel.

“Well, I am sure this guardian demon will love the flowers. They are quite a beauty.” 

Y/n bid the male farewell and made a mental note to drop by often for more flowers in the future. Exiting the shop, she noticed the mysterious male was now leaning against the floral shop wall. 

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful female,” he commented, his dark hungry eyes raking over her body. 

Y/n shuddered at the perusal. “Thank you.” she said but turned away from the male to her next destination, the bakery. Her prince was a sweets fiend, even if he would never publicly admit it. And y/n really wanted to see if there were any cannolis there for him.

The male didn’t comment anything as she walked away. She hoped that meant he would leave her alone now. 

Once she reached the bakery she was overjoyed to find not only cannolis but a variety of flavors and fillings for the cannolis; pistachio, chocolate, candied oranges, peach, strawberry, even one with coconut and caramel. She could imagine the smile on Wrath’s face as he opened the box and then the calculation on how to eat the whole box without her knowing. And she has caught him before with a plate full of cannolis. 

Two dozen should be good for her to at least get a bite of one. After paying for the two dozen she strode out to find the male waiting for her again. 

“Having a party?” he asked, his eyes somehow getting darker. 

Y/n doesn’t answer, knowing he is probably trying to determine if someone is expecting her.

“I love sweet things,” he continues as y/n steps into the street to get to the other sidewalk and put distance between them. Unfortunately this side of the street has cleared out and the busy market is down the block. “Especially things with filling. Do you like filling, Sweet Thing?” 

Y/n tries to walk faster but she hears him keeping pace with her. Her neck starts to tingle, no Wrath’s mark begins to tingle. She lightly brushes it, praying he isn’t too far from her. 

“I have a special-” he is cut off abruptly and y/n turns to see her guardian glaring down the perpetrator. 

“Finish the sentence,” Wrath challenges, his voice is calm but there is an underlying threat in it that both her and the other male pick up on given the stain growing on his dark trousers. 

“Your highness,” the male bows his head, “We are friends. We were just jesting.” 

The ground begins to rumble and ice crawls from Wrath’s feet. 

“I have been watching you and there has not been any jesting.” Wrath points out.

Wait, watching? Y/n thinks as she watches her prince step toward the male with murderous intent. 

“What were you going to do to my Y/n?” he demands. Anir and one his generals, Warwick, come out of the corner with murder in their expression.

“I-i didn’t know she was yours,” the male whimpers.

“Even if she wasn’t mine. I do not allow disgusting vermin, like yourself, to walk my streets preying on others.” Wrath snaps. Anir and Warwick grab the male and drag him into an alley where the male screams and begs. 

Y/n steps toward Wrath. “What’s going to happen to him?” she asks with curious interest. 

Wrath raises a brow, “want to watch?” 

She shakes her head no even though she was curious what happened to predators like him. But she had another question for Wrath. “You followed me?”

He gives her a “really?” look. “You left my house without protection. “ he justifies.

“I don’t need protection in your circle.”

“Clearly you do,” he argues. His golden eyes flick to the box of cannolis and the paper wrapped golden flowers.  His brows knit in confusion as he studies the two items with curiosity. “Who are those for?”

“My guardian demon,” she replies with a smile. “The least I can do for your hard work. I only ask that one cannoli be spared for me to try.”

He laughs at that and steps into her space with a small smile, “I think I can spare one.”

She gives him a mock skeptical look, “hmmm, I know it may be a difficult feat for you, Cannoli King.” She lifts up on her tiptoes and pecks the bottom of his cheek. 

“Cannoli King?” He repeats with a confused look.