#grand crystal chandelier

[chinxe]

Dining Room Enclosed

Example of a mid-sized limestone floor enclosed dining room design with blue walls

[mal-educado]

Family Room - Traditional Family Room An illustration of a sizable, traditional, open-concept family room with a marble floor, a music section, white walls, a stone fireplace, and no television.

[scydiahs]

Music Room Dallas Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional loft-style medium tone wood floor and brown floor living room remodel with a music area, beige walls, a standard fireplace and a tile fireplace

[chaxnelles]

Transitional Entry New York Example of a large transitional travertine floor and beige floor entryway design with beige walls and a dark wood front door

[gatsbycodes]

Traditional Entry Los Angeles Example of a large classic marble floor foyer design with white walls

[mononijikayu]

wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.  “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY.  You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world. 

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside. 

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential. 

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste. 

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore. 

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions. 

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things. 

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair.  Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum. 

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!” 

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students. 

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice. 

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement. 

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

 “Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice. 

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet. 

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them. 

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy  ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply. 

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar. 

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did. 

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.” 

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.  

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. 

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him. 

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion. 

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught. 

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface. 

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust. 

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled. 

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it. 

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms. 

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync. 

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity. 

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

[chairytale]

Orange County Bedroom Master

A medium-sized master bedroom with a light wood floor and white walls

[korunia]

Dallas Living Room

Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless loft-style medium tone wood floor and brown floor living room remodel with a music area, beige walls, a standard fireplace and a tile fireplace

[gtfoimrocking]

Traditional Entry Los Angeles

Example of a large classic marble floor foyer design with white walls

[exo-plushie]

Transitional Family Room in Miami Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional open concept porcelain tile family room remodel with multicolored walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[michaeldirnt]

Traditional Living Room - Formal Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless formal and open concept marble floor and beige floor living room remodel with beige walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[lecter-starling]

Dallas Traditional Living Room

Mid-sized traditional loft-style living room idea with beige walls, a tile fireplace, a standard fireplace, and medium-tone wood floors and brown floors.

[enha-stars]

Do It For Me ; L.HS

beg me to stop, i promise i’ll love you if you do it, so do it for me

Pairing: Advisor!Heeseung x F!Princess!Reader

Synopsis: To all the subjects, all the servants, and all other royalty, you’re next in line for the throne. You’re a Princess, their Princess. However, in the depths of the night, far away in another tower, you’re nothing but a filthy, sluty, whore. Master to all, servant to one.

Warnings: porn with plot (little plot), SMUT, p in v, MDNI, fluff, minor angst, lowkey (highkey) master/servant/ownership themes, learned new things about myself tbh, unprotected sex (don’t), switch!heeseung, switch!reader, lots of kissing, genuine trust, all consensual, both are freaks, praise & degradation, abuse of authority (both into it), minor exhibitionism, choking, oral (both), sweat kink, mentions of death & hell & religion (brief), reader has big boobs bcuz i do (not sorry), biting, spit (lots of it), reader has hair long enough to pull, brief lactation kink, crying, overstimulation, 11.9k words

A/N: Well. I didn't think my comeback would be linked to a five second hentai scene I stumbled across, but alas, here we are. This is for my girls, my freakhoonz, who have been so patient with me. I'm pretty proud of this one, actually.

The morning sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows of the castle’s grand dining hall, painting the ancient stone walls with golden hues. The air was crisp, the faint scent of lavender from the nearby gardens carried in on the light breeze. 

Despite the magnificence of the room–the high, vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes, the crystal chandelier that sparkled like captured starlight–it felt eerily empty. 

You sat at the center of the impossibly long mahogany dining table, a gown of soft ivory silk pooled around you, delicate lace cuffs brushing against your wrists as you reached for your teacup, the scent of chai wafting through the air. The delicate porcelain looked almost fragile in your hands, a stark contrast to the quiet stiffness in your posture. 

You glanced up briefly at the empty seats surrounding you, expression unreadable. The solitude of the grand room seemed to weigh heavily but you bore it with practiced grace, familiar with the chilling quietness that had long seeped into your bones. 

Behind you stood your advisor, his figure tall and shadow-like in the glow of the morning light. He remained still, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his brown eyes watchful. “You’ve hardly touched your breakfast, Your Highness,” he said, his voice low, measured. 

You sighed softly, setting your teacup down with a faint clink. “I’m not that hungry,” you replied, tone polite but distant. You toyed with the edge of your napkin, gaze drifting toward the massive windows. Beyond them, the lush gardens stretched endlessly, the vibrant colors of the blooms concentrated well with the muted grays and browns of the castle’s interior. 

Servants moved quietly around the room, their footsteps muffled by thick rugs. A maid approached with a tray, setting down a plate of freshly baked pastries. You nodded in silence acknowledgement before the new, baby pink she was adorned in caught your eye. She barely noticed as she bowed, silently walking away. 

You stared at her departing figure, intrigued by her outfit. It was new; with a white, crisp blouse with a lace trim on the collar, the baby pink apron consisted of a full bib that had covered her chest with wide straps that criss crossed along her back, the skirt of the apron was pleated as it rested on the petticoat. In sum, it was beautiful. You had half a mind to call her back, just so you could simply admire the subtle embroidery that you were sure consisted of different floral patterns. 

Heeseung stepped closer, his voice softening. “The day ahead will demand much of you, Princess. Perhaps a few bites, if only to sustain yourself.” 

Instead of answering him, you pointed to the empty space that the maid had retreated to. “What was she wearing, Heeseung? Has mother changed their uniform once again?” 

Heeseung nodded, and although you could not see it, you felt it. “Yes, Your Highness. The Queen suggested something that would lighten the castle. They have just arrived from Japan.”

“Hm,” you hummed. You leaned back in your chair, picking at a sugar cookie. Expression laced with something unspoken and a faint smile, you tilted your head in question. “What do you think?”

“About what, Princess?”

“The maid outfits. Poor things have to wear them all the time, don’t they?” 

Heeseung narrowed his eyes at the back of your head, the sides of his lips twitching at the faux sympathy in your voice, hiding your intrigue. “They are certainly prettier than their older garments. As long as they look good, I believe the Queen will remain satisfied.” 

Wiping your fingers with your napkin, you folded it in half and set it beside the tray. “You think so? Mother is hard to please.” 

“For the sake of the maids, I hope so.” 

The faintest laugh escaped you, so quiet it might have gone unnoticed if not for the way his lips curved ever so slightly in response. Despite the coldness of the wide room, the warmth that Heeseung’s honesty provided you was enough, unusually so. 

Interrupting the moment, Heeseung stepped forward, placing a folded parchment on the table beside your plate. “The morning reports, as you requested,” he said, his tone reverting to its usual professionalism. 

You glanced at the parchment but made no move to open it. Instead, your eyes flickered to his retreating hand, catching the faintest twitch of his fingers. You knew that if you turned back, you would have caught his expression, sure of the soft hesitation that would have lingered. 

Instead, you smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Heeseung.” 

Before you could pick it up, his voice brushed against your ear. “Would you like me to read it to you, Princess?”

“Would you, Heeseung? I’m not quite in the mood.” 

He stepped forward, fingers brushing against the paper before he picked it up. “Of course, Princess. Anything for you.”

His words weren’t unique, they had been uttered a few times an hour daily, but they were different when he said them. There was a certain…genuinity to them, a quiet promise just for you.

You loved it.

Reveled in it, even.

Sighing, Heeseung pushed open the large wooden door to his quarters. He was lucky enough to be liked by the King to receive his own space, no matter how minimal it was, it was his. He could do whatever–whoever–he wanted to.

Rolling his shoulders, he dragged his feet and stretched his neck, rubbing at the knot he was sure was forming. His dark blue tunic was crinkled by the bottom and all he wanted to do was take a warm bath and wash away the dirt of the day. 

He pushed his bedroom door open, ready to sink onto the floor when a familiar, too familiar, irritated voice called out to him, draining the tension from his body and igniting a fire in the pit of his stomach. 

“Finally!” You stood across from Heeseung, arms crossed. “What took you so long? I requested for father to let you leave the meeting early.” 

“Princess?” Heeseung slammed the door shut, pressing his back against it, mouth agape. He was staring at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. He clutched the neck of his tunic, as if his panic was clawing at him. As if you hadn’t found yourself in his bedroom, many times before. 

“Well?” You raised your eyebrow. “What kept you?” There was a certain edge to your voice, one Heeseung had heard in meetings and gatherings, the voice of royal blood, companding, booming, and oh so luring. 

His throat dried up immediately, blinking once, twice, before you tilted your head and he straightened. It didn’t matter that you stood in front of him in one of the new maid outfits, all tangled and mismatched, strings undone and pieces folded, he still had to answer to you, still a subject. 

“The King,” he began, trying to even out his breathing and push all the darker thoughts back into the depths of his brain, “he wanted new territory lines drawn.”

Still standing in the middle of the room, you were a masterful figure, illuminating his room better than the few candles that were littered around his room. “And did you? Help him? Advise him,” you whispered, mocking his discomposure. 

Heeseung swallowed, slowly pushing himself off his door. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Instead of answering him, you simply smiled at him, and his legs almost wobbled at the sight. It was different here, seeing you so close, face to face, when he often spent time behind you, deciphering your moods and expressions by the twitch of your ears and stiffness of your shoulders. Like this, with you standing before him, he almost couldn’t handle it.

You were the prettiest in the land, the most beloved jewel of the kingdom, but standing in the dim light of his flickering candles with disheveled clothes and a curved smile, one just for him–he thought you had never looked more beautiful. 

He was almost completely undone. 

“Your Highness,” he stepped towards you, “what are you doing here?” He knew. He knew. But he wasn’t bold enough to want it, not yet. 

Grinning at his question, you spread your arms and motioned towards your body. “I wanted to try this on. It looked so pretty.”

“Yes,” Heeseung nodded, “it does. But why here?” You were always bolder than him, at least in the beginning. 

Your eyes shined with something sinister, something lustful, something he could have been hung for, and he wanted it. He wanted to taste it. He wanted to drown in it. 

“To show you, of course. But I seemed to have done this wrong.” You pouted, a bit frustrated at yourself for failing to put on a maids outfit. Surely you were more capable. 

Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath at your words, his heart beating loudly in his head. He had an inkling, the smallest of feelings that you would pull something like this but he hadn’t thought about it, hadn't gone as far as to want it, in case he was wrong.

He rarely ever was. 

“Help me, will you?” You stepped towards him and smiled softly, peering up at him with shiny eyes. “Help me put this on.”

Heeseung held his breath for a second, looking for any hesitation, any sign that would immediately push all his sinful thoughts out of his mind, but all he saw was pure, unfiltered trust in your eyes. You wanted this, whatever it was, you wanted it completely. 

He’d give it to you. Of course he would. He’s never denied before you. 

“Of course, Princess.” He reached out and gently brushed his fingers against your arm, igniting a raging fire in the pit of your stomach, and he knew he had you. He maneuvered you closer to his bed, closer to the candles so he could see you properly, before he began undoing the laces and straps of the apron, his nimble, long, and veiny fingers gently ghosting over your skin but never touching. 

Breathing in his scent, the mixture of musk, old wood, and his sweat made you want to bite into his skin. You stood still as he moved around you, towering over you as he undid the mess you had made of yourself. His fingers brushed against your skin, nails barely grazing your clothed body, and it was almost enough. 

When he got to your chest, you felt him hold his breath and you purposefully pressed further into him, forcing his fingers to graze your erect nipple. You had abandoned your corset, letting your breasts press freely against the cotton material. As he shifted the apron to cover your chest–or as much as he could–you tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck. 

Heeseung wanted to lick the exposed skin but he bit his tongue instead. He had to be patient. Right now, he was still your subject. You were still his master, he was yours to command.

After a few moments, he tied the final bow in the back and breathed down your neck for one, quick second before he stepped back.

“There you are, Princess.” 

Slowly, you turned around and tilted your head in that endearingly dangerous way and smiled at him, shiny eyes staring up at him. “How do I look?” 

Like I should be on my knees worshipping you, he wanted to say. 

Instead, he whispered, “Beautiful. You always look beautiful, Princess.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling at his wondrous expression. 

“Beautiful enough to serve you?” You fluttered your eyelashes, licking your lips in delight.

Pupils blown wide, Heeseung swallowed his tongue.

“Pardon?” 

Smiling at his dumbfoundedness, you moved towards him, grinning when he stepped back. You continued to step towards him until the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed and he fell back, staring up at you like he was afraid you’d eat him at the first sign of weakness. 

Before Heeseung could find proper footing, you were sinking to your knees and he suddenly couldn’t breathe all over again. You found a comfortable position between his legs, resting your cheek against his thigh, staring at him as if he was the only thing you wanted to focus on. 

Holding himself up by his arms, Heeseung tried to control his breathing. “Princess,” he gasped out. “What are you doing?” He let out a strangled breath when you brushed your smaller, delicate hand against his growing bulge. 

“What does it look like, Heeseung? I’m serving you.” You twisted the threads of his trousers before undoing them. His hand landed on yours, almost fervently. He squeezed once and you glanced up at him.

“Tonight,” you whispered against his inner thigh, “I serve you. I’m yours to command.” Pressing a soft kiss to his thigh, you trailed your fingers all over his pelvis.

“My master.” 

Heeseung couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t breathed in quite some time and he was surely never going to breathe again. Despite your words, the soft shift of power, he knew that like this, between his legs, you had all the control.

You tapped the waistband of his trousers and in less than a second, he had pulled them off. They pooled between his legs, sinking to the floor and you gathered them before pulling them right off, leaving him completely naked from the waist down.

You started at his ankles, fingers pressing down on his sun-kissed skin, fingernails grazing upwards, watching in fascination as goosebumps erupted on his skin. Reaching his thighs, you spread his legs further, swallowing the whisper of a whimper he released, and kissed his inner thigh until it was littered in little red marks, fading quickly. You kissed his other thigh, licking and nibbling the skin, acutely aware of the way Heeseung had begun to shift under your hold. 

Once you were satisfied with the constellations you had etched onto his skin, you lifted your head and almost gasped at the way he was leaking, his tip red and veiny. Mesmerized, you leaned forward, but before you continued, you shifted your eyes to his and found nothing but darkness staring back at you. His bambi eyes, the ones you loved so dearly, had been replaced by something predatory. 

Yet, you could see the softness threaded into the crinkles of his skin, the way he refused to move, to touch you, unless you made it clear that you wanted him to. You rested your cheek against his inner thigh and smiled up at him. 

“Can I?” Your voice was low, a mere brush of air against his skin, but he heard you. “Please, Hee. Can I?” 

Not trusting his voice, he simply nodded. You blinked up at him, unmoving. Swallowing the lust that had clawed its way to his throat, Heeseung tilted his head forward. “Go ahead, Princess.” 

His rough, almost choked voice vibrated against your heart and you slowly lifted your head and shifted as close as you could get to him, knees scraping against the wood of his bed. He didn’t know what to expect, unsure of your next moves. He hated being so disheveled, so not-in-tune with you, but he couldn’t complain, not when you leaned forward and pressed your nose against the base of his cock. 

Jerking forward, Heeseung barely had enough time to cry out your name before you licked a long stripe from his base to his tip, circling your tongue around him once before you repeated the action once more. All his empty words died in his throat as he released a shaky breath at the feeling of your warm mouth taking him in, engulfing him completely. 

Pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, you could taste the salty taste of his sweat and precum. It took over your senses and you shifted upwards, circling your tongue around his tip before sucking, the taste of him took over your senses. Pooling some spit on your tongue, you let it drip down his length as you wrapped your hand around him, using his own precum mixed with your spit as lube, jerking your hand up and down as you continued to press soft kisses around his tip. 

Heeseung groaned, his breathing getting heavier as his legs spasmed around you. You put a bit of pressure on his legs with your arms so he wouldn’t move too much, needing the taste of him down your throat more than you needed anything else, so you sucked on his tip harder, slopplier without stopping the motion of your hand. 

“Y/n,” his broken voice moaned out. 

Your name on his lips made your legs quiver and you looked up to the sight of his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back. His face had flushed pink and a thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead, his hair half brushed back and half sticking to his skin. His chest was rising rapidly and he looked so beautiful, hands clenched tightly as his legs flexed continuously. 

Without stopping, you used your free hand, the one that had been pressing into his skin, to grab his fisted hand. His eyes opened at the touch and he watched with amazement as you uncurled his fingers and guided them to your hair. Instantly, they curled around the strands and you hummed in satisfaction, making his cock twitch in your mouth. 

“I’m–Oh, fuck,” he whimpered out, his voice cracking, and you pushed him further down your throat, ignoring the burn because the sound of his broken voice was addictive, it was sweeter than the honey farmed in your land, and it satisfied you more than any of your fingers ever could have. 

His grip on your hair tightened and you wanted to giggle when he slowly began controlling your movements, pushing your head down until the tip grazed the back of your throat and you gagged around him, squeezing your own legs together. 

“That’s it, Princess,” he whispered. He pulled at your hair a bit, trying to give you the opportunity to breathe but you didn’t want to, so you licked along one of his veins and you glanced up at the exact moment his eyes rolled back into his skull and he moaned, loud and raspy and so broken. 

Your free hand trailed his skin, sliding up his tunic and you felt the way his abs flexed, the way his thighs shook as his head slowly fell back, the pleasure overwhelming. His grip on your hair loosened further and you licked at the tip once more before kissing his balls, your hand still wrapped around his length, tight and warm. 

Heeseung was close to crying, he was gasping and he could feel the coil in his abdomen tighten further as you licked and sucked on his balls, seeing stars and almost losing feeling in his arms when you nibbled at one of them. His chest rose rapidly, almost as if he was a man in his last moments of life. He could feel it, the way every muscle in his body had flexed, constricted against his will. 

“Fuck, I can’t.”

Choosing to fondle his balls instead, you licked up his shaft only to suck on his tip, staring up at him, fascinated at the way his adam's apple bobbed painfully against his skin and the way his skin had flushed even more. 

When the pleasure became too much, too blinding, Heeseung threaded his fingers back into your hair, and pulled. “Stop.” He pulled until it hurt, until he had pulled you off his dick and it rested against your cheek instead. “Enough.” His voice was guttural, vibrating against your teeth. 

You blinked up at him, mouth agape. His eyes fluttered shut at the sight of you; hair a matted mess, lips plump and bruised, eyes blown wide, and his precum and your own drool dripped down the sides of your mouth. He could have cummed at the sight alone, but he wanted to be inside you. 

He had to be inside you. 

Slowly, his hand slid from your hair to your face. He cupped your cheek, eyes smiling softly when you leaned into his hand. He wiped the drool off your lips with his thumb only to bring his finger to his mouth. You felt your pussy flutter around nothing and he didn’t have to hear it to know you almost whined. 

He brought his hand back to your face, trying to ignore the urge to push his cock back into your mouth, and wiped away your tears. You looked surprised, not even realizing you had begun to cry. 

“How did I do?” Your voice was hoarse, a bit broken, and his cock twitched. He rarely had the chance to ever hear it like this. He brought his other hand to your face, cupping both your cheeks and forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“Perfect. Always so perfect, Princess.” He could see it in your eyes, the need. So he gave it to you. “Serving me so well. You take such good care of me.” 

Your eyes lit up at the praise and he almost cooed, despite being on the urge of cumming. If he had this, if he had you like this, he wanted to enjoy it. And, above all, he wanted you to enjoy it. 

He was good at giving you what you needed, not just what you wanted. 

“Stand up for me, Princess.” He brushed his fingers against your neck. “Stand up.” 

Immediately, obediently, you managed to stand on shaky legs. Heeseung’s gaze traveled from your skirt to your apron, eyes focused on your nipples poking through. Despite fixing your attire earlier, it was all twisted and wet now. He loved it. 

You looked at him expectantly and he almost gave it up, almost begging for you to take him, to have him anyway you wanted him, but he couldn’t. A bigger, more selfish part of him couldn’t. 

“Strip for me.” When you began pulling at the strings, he coaxed out, “Leave the apron.” 

Your fingers paused before quickly pulling off the blouse, biting your lip when the cold air brushed against your skin. You pulled down the skirt and kicked it all to the side until you stood in nothing but the pink apron. It barely covered your chest and left your entire backside exposed, but you loved it; loved the way Heeseung’s eyes drank you in, eyes becoming impossibly darker. 

“Come here,” he motioned. You moved towards him, stepping between his legs. At once, he was gripping your hips and pulled you in, his face pressing into your stomach. He breathed you in, trying to burn the memory of you like this into his soul, hoping that when he goes, you’d greet him to the gates of hell like this, ever so enticing, so perfect. 

Even though he hadn’t given you permission, your hands found home in his long, shaggy black hair. You brushed your fingers through it, loving the length. He looked up at you and you almost, almost, wanted to ring the local church, wanted to tell them they had it all wrong because one of their angels, one of the sinful devils was here with you. 

The look in Heeseung’s eyes had changed. You could see it, feel it in his gaze. The way he looked at you now was anything but sweet. He wanted to eat you whole, in pieces if he had to. 

“Want to please me? Make me cum?” He spoke against your stomach, the cloth of the apron muffling his words but you heard him. Your knees weakened in response. You nodded, “Yes.” 

You could feel the curve of his smile against your skin as he pressed soft, open mouthed kisses to your stomach. You hadn’t noticed his trailing hand until it landed on your ass and he squeezed hard. You almost yelped at the feeling and jerked forward, his other hand steadying you. You held onto his shoulder, his hair, as his hand grazed your backside, fingers drawing circles on the fat of your skin. 

At once, Heeseung shifted and lifted his head, looking up at you. His eyes met yours and you both stared at each other, millions of unsaid words, thoughts, filling the minimal air between you both. The way Heeseung looked at you now, like he was staring up at the starry night sky, absolutely bewildered by the stars that littered the sky, it was better than anything else anyone could have ever given you. You’d trade all your fancy dresses, all your jewels, every single piece of gold you could get your hand on for him, just for him to look at you like this for the rest of your life, like you’re something precious, something beautiful, more than just the blood that ran through your veins. 

The weight of your look was too much for him, too terrifying, so he caught your wandering hand instead and rested it on his cheek. He leaned into it and you soothed the skin under his eyes, noticing for the first time just how strained it was. Heeseung kissed the edge of your palm before he pushed himself upwards on the bed until his back rested against the headboard. 

You watched him closely, watching the way his length still stood hard and tall but he paid it no mind. His eyes were on you. They had and always would be on you. He spread his legs, his muscles flexing before he patted his lap. “Come, Princess.” 

Obeying him immediately, you hastily, ungracefully, crawled towards him and his hands, his large, needy, hard working hands, grabbed you, caressing your skin softly as he settled you on his lap, the apron bunching up between your bodies. He paid little attention to his throbbing dick and more to the warmth of your cheeks, the bashfulness he could see in your eyes. 

Like the good girl you were, or wanted to be, you kept your hands to yourself and waited for him. Heeseung smiled at your patience and squeezed your hips once before he rested against the wood, ignoring the way it pierced his skin. You were soaking, knowing that your own wetness coated your thighs, making the apron stick to you in all sorts of uncomfortable ways. 

“Take off my tunic, Princess. Undress me.” There was something menacing in his soft voice, a slight tease at her, at her skill. Surely a maid like her, a servant, could undo a simple tunic, his voice had said. 

You nodded and reached for the tightly done threads, fingers trembling as you slowly pulled and loosened his collar, keeping your eyes on his chest. If you had lifted them, you’d see the way Heeseung was lazily resting against the headboard, the way his hair was a mess, the glint in his eyes that promised demise. He’d kept himself at bay for now, towing the power between himself and you, but when he took it again, completely and unruly, he’d have broken you tenfold. 

Once the neck of his tunic had loosened, you grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled up, smiling briefly at his immediate compliance, lifting his arms. You tossed his shirt to the side somewhere, solely focused on his skin, his solid, glistening chest. 

“Go ahead,” he smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. “Touch me.” 

Gingerly, you lifted both your hands and settled them on his chest. Heeseung’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of your cold hands on his burning body, the way you were gentle as you grazed his toned abs, the way your fingers paused on all the cuts and scars that littered his body. 

“Can I?” You didn’t lift your eyes, focused on a new scar right above his heart. Heeseung’s hand travelled from your hip to your stomach and he pushed down.

“Yes.” He swallowed. “Please.” 

Gently, like he was fragile, you leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the scarred tissue. His breathing hitched, his grip on you tightened, and he was a complete goner when your kisses became heavier, sloppier, and soon, his entire chest was littered with the remnants of your saliva. 

Pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Heeseung lifted your head, his gaze almost scoldering. He looked between your eyes, trying to find any hesitation, before he glanced down at your lips. Unconsciously, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you had yet to grow out of. 

Sliding his thumb upwards, he coaxed you to release your lip and when he did, he pressed down and you shifted on his lap, his length brushing against the apron and he winced, a mixture of pleasure and pain shadowing across his face. 

“I’m going to kiss you, Princess.” Heeseung was already breathless, unsure if he was warning you or asking, only wanting your plush lips against his. 

“Please,” is all you managed to whisper out. If the kingdom could see you now, begging and writhing on top of Heeseung, a man not of royal blood or even any land. They’d never understand, you decided.

What it felt like to be wanted like this. 

Sliding his hand up from your waist to your throat, he wrapped his fingers gently enough to entice you. Your hands laid flat on his chest and you could feel the rapid pace of his heart, knowing he wanted this just as much, if not more. 

Pulling your head down, he tilted his chin to meet your lips in the middle. His lips, plush and pink, brushed against yours and you tilted your head, trying to chase him. His grip on your throat tightened and he kept you where he wanted you. He brushed his lips against yours once more, smiling against your pout. 

“Pretty thing,” he cooed. “You’ll take what I give you.” 

You whimpered against his lips, keeping your eyes on his. You knew he was being generous, knew he was being kind and sweet, the version of him you loved, but it wasn’t the one you needed. You needed him to abuse the power you had easily surrendered. 

“How bad?” He asked against your lips, brushing his lips against your chin, nose, cheek. “How bad do you want this, Princess?” 

“Very,” you whispered against his lips. “Please, Heeseung.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of your chin. “Begging for me like this. What would your mother say?” 

At the mention of your mother, the Queen, you shifted on his lap once more, his length brushing deliciously against your soaked core. His grip on your throat tightened just for a second before he composed himself. 

Unsure whether or not he wanted an answer, you parted your lips to say something, anything, and he interrupted you by crashing your lips against his, swallowing your surprised gasp greedily. His lips moved roughly against yours, so perfect, as one of his hands slid down to your ass, gripping tightly as he moved your hips against his, not caring for the way the apron you had on had been completely soaked by now. 

His grip on your throat tightened once more and you moaned into his mouth, moving your lips feverishly against his. Heeseung slipped his tongue into your mouth, tracing the crevices of your teeth and gums before sucking on your tongue, guiding your hips so your cunt rubbed against the side of his cock. 

His eyes almost rolled back at the lack of air and he pulled back, mesmerized by the string of spit that connected both of your lips. He pulled further away, just to see how far he could stretch the glistening string before it broke, surging forward to lick it from the edge of your mouth. 

He licked and kissed down your throat, his hand sliding downwards until both his hands were focused on the bow on your lower back. He pulled it apart as he nibbled and sucked your neck, only pulling away to pull the apron off your head. His lips immediately reattached to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone and your head fell back, trying to pry yourself open for him. 

Heeseung bit down on the skin just above your collarbone and you cried out, hands flying to his hair, gripping for dear life. He grinned against your skin and pulled at your own hair, making you arch for him so he could reach your breasts better. 

He began kissing down your body, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the skin between your breasts, licking and sucking, swallowing the taste of your sweet sweat, knowing he’d fight a war for the taste. 

You were a mess above him, head thrown back and eyes sewn shut, incoherent mumbles and whimpers leaving your lips as you pulled and scraped his hair and the nape of his neck. Your entire body was on fire and you almost couldn’t breathe. 

Under a trance, Heeseung pressed a soft kiss on one of your breasts, his fingers brushing the nipple of the other. He kitten-licked your swollen, aching bud before latching on, sucking and kissing, circling his tongue as if he could have convinced your body to submit to him completely, as if he could milk you dry. 

His other hand pinched and squeezed your other nipple, before he released your swollen and wet nipple with a pop, not even breathing as he latched onto the other one. All of your senses were going crazy, overwhelmed to the point of hysteria and tears. Heeseung jerked his hips upwards, pulling you impossibly closer and flush against him, his cock sliding perfectly between your soaked folds. 

Once he’s sure that he’s marked every inch of you, every inch of your supple skin red and pinched, he pulls away and revels in what he sees. You’re gripping onto him tightly, grinding yourself against him, head thrown back as a sheen layer of sweat coats your throat. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. 

His voice breaks the trance you seem to be in and you slowly halt your movements and tilt your head forward, eyes locking on his. He pushes himself up, resting his forehead against yours as both of your chests heave. You lean forward and press a swift kiss to his swollen lips, licking his bottom lip. He lets you have it because he captures your lips again, heart beating rapidly against your chest as his arms circle your waist. 

“Ready to make me cum?” He asks, voice unbelievably gravelly and hoarse. He knows that if you simply touched him, simply grazed his tip with your fingers, he’d cum like he never has before. 

“I need to,” you tell him. “Please, Heeseung. Use me.” You’re so earnest in your words, the way your eyes shine with trust and lust, like he could do anything to you and you’d let him. 

A darker, sinister part of him wants to know how far he could go before you stop him. 

Heeseung grins at you, a curve of his lips, teeth on display as his hands slide up and down your exposed thighs. “Ride me, Princess.” He watches the way your eyes widen, he can feel the way your pulse quickens, and he wants to be the only person to ever see you like this. He wraps one of his hands around his hard, leaking cock and slides up and down once. “Ride me like the good, pretty little slut you are.” 

Your pussy flutters at his words and he can feel it against his legs. He almost, almost, loses it right there and then and has half a mind to flip you over but he needs to prolong this. So, instead, he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek, looking as sinful as ever. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you held onto his shoulders with trembling arms and slowly lifted your knees. Like the saint he could sometimes be, Heeseung gripped the underside of your thighs, helping lift your body. 

Exhaling a short breath, you gripped his cock and lined him up with your entrance. The soft scrape of his tip against your pussy was almost enough, but you wanted more, needed more. With his red tip positioned at your entrance, you slowly sunk down, moaning loudly. 

The satisfying tightening and burn of his veins against your gummy walls made you both moan in unison, your body falling limp into his as you sunk down completely, the base of his cock hitting your core. The stretch felt amazing, so good, and all you could do was tuck your face into the crook of his neck, biting back a sob. 

“Fuck,” he groans out, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping your skin. “Fuck, so fucking tight.” You press a soft kiss to his neck and he jerks his hips upwards, filling you to the brim, his tip reaching parts of you only he had discovered. 

“Move,” he ordered, weakly. “Fuck yourself on my cock, Princess. Just like you said you would, like you want to.” 

Your head fell back onto his chest and you bit his shoulder, holding onto his neck tightly as you used all your strength to move. He twitches inside you, against your sensitive walls, and you almost cry out. As if sensing your distraught, one of his hands grips your waist protectively and he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. 

Lifting your legs, you slowly moved on his lap, sliding him in and out of your pussy. His hold on your waist helped lift you up and down, guiding you to a delicious pace. Once you find your rhythm, Heeseungs hands slide from your waist to your ass, resting there. 

He throws his head back when you begin to jump on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass. Your grip on his shoulders is piercing, he can feel his skin breaking as you dig your nails into his skin, the creak of his bed is loud in the room filled with your moans. 

You slow down, pressing down on his length to catch your breath. Grinding on his lap, his cock brushes against all your sweet spots, stretching your walls with a familiar enough burn. As you wriggle around on his cock, Heeseung’s eyes fly open and he stares at you with a heavy lidded gaze. 

“Tired already, Princess?” He chokes out, trying to be amused but his voice breaks. You don’t answer him, you can’t answer him, so he cooes at you instead and slides his hands up your sweaty body until his hand rests on your throat and he grips it, forcing your eyes open when he presses down with his thumb. 

Your eyes fly open and there are tears in your eyes as you try to push him to the brim, needing him to cum inside you before you lose your mind. “Heeseung,” you breathe out, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

“I got you, Princess,” he whispers against your skin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I got you.” 

He kneads the flesh of your ass before he grips on tightly and thrusts into you. He begins fucking into you at an unsteady pace, your jaw going slack as his tip presses against your cervix with each thrust, making your eyes roll back. 

You could feel each and every vein bulging against your walls as he pounded into you, your hands flying to the headboard when his pace became rougher, more animalistic. 

“Wanting to serve me,” he mumbles against your throat, licking and biting your skin. “Can’t even fuck herself on my cock for long,” he chastises, spreading your ass so he could fuck into you harder. He bites into your skin sharply, almost breaking skin, and you tug at his hair, whimpering loudly. 

He can’t stop his rough movements, his thrusts never faltering as he brings you both closer to your release, abdomens twisting and churning. You felt your ears ringing when he pulled your hair, exposing your neck to him. His lips found home on your breasts, licking and biting as his cock continued to slide in and out of you at an abusing rate. 

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Imagine if others saw you like this.” At his own words, his pelvis jerked upwards, grazing that gummy, sensitive part inside you. He’d kill whoever saw you like this. But the thought of his Princess, the Princess, being dumb and sloppy for his dick for an audience made his legs burn.

“Don’t–” You started, voice breaking when he pinched your nipple.

“Don’t want what?” He asked, glancing up at you. “Tell me.”

“Don’t want others to see me,” you whispered. You looked down at him and smiled hazily, eyes unfocused and spit coating your lips.

“Just you.” 

Desperation clawed at Heeseung and his thrusts became erratic as he pushed your body flush against him, forcing your hips to match his bruising pace as more slick poured from your legs and onto his lap and sheets, your needy moans mixed with his broken ones. 

“Close–I’m, oh,” you stuttered out, eyes closing when Heeseung’s fingers grazed your clit, his own eyes shutting for a second when your walls squeezed him impossibly tight as he pressed his fingers against your clit. He could feel it, the dizzying feeling of euphoria building in his chest, the way it was running through his veins. He could tell you felt it too by your breathing, the way your pussy was weeping for him. 

Stars danced around in your vision and he knew his own vision mirrored yours, the tightness in his core was almost unbearable and he tipped his head forward and pressed his lips against yours, smiling briefly when your hold on him tightened. “Go ahead, Princess. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock,” his voice was sweet, borderline crazed. 

You fell limp in his arms when he thrusted into you once, twice, right against your cervix, and you had come undone for him, release washing over you, body weak as your legs shook on top of Heeseung’s. His hands were all over your body, caressing your skin to comfort you as your body convulsed for him. 

His lips were littering soft kisses to any skin he could reach, and when your walls tightened completely, coating his cock in your cum, he softly cried out your name as warm ropes of his cum filled you to the brim. 

You could barely blink, senses still overwhelmed as he kept kissing you, kept cumming, filling you up so well, until you could almost taste him. Quiet praises filled with love and encouragement were whispered against your skin as he remained buried up to the hilt in you, his hips still pushing his cum into you, almost as if he had no control over himself. 

Your entire body was shaking and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, rubbing your back gently until your whimpers turned into heavy breathing, until all you could mumble was some variation of his name. He forced his hips to still, forced himself to breathe deeply. 

Bodies sticky and sweaty, he ran his hands up and down your back, nails grazing your skin to ground you. He was sure he was still cumming but if he could distract you, keep your attention on anything other than your overly stimulated, stuffed pussy, he’d do so. 

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed lovingly, kissing the shell of your ear. “I got you.” He smiled when he felt you nod in the crook of his neck. “Did so well for me, Princess.” You simply hummed in response, unable to form any sentences at the moment. Heeseung rested his cheek against your head, fighting the urge to grind his hips against yours. 

You breathed in Heeseung’s scent slowly, head safely tucked in the crook of his neck. The way he held you now, so soft, so lovingly, had your heart settling. You still could barely feel your legs, moaning lightly when his cock twitched inside you. Wrapped around his body, you pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck, sucking softly when he tilted his head to give you more access. 

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck and he shuddered. You could have fallen asleep right there and then, with his cock stuffed safely in your pussy, sticky wetness fusing your both together.

But, as you should have known, Heeseung had other plans. Gently, oh, so gently, he coaxed you up. The movement had you both hissing but he was quick to steady you, quick to brush your hair from your face. You stared at him and his legs wobbled at the look in your eyes. You brought a hand up to his face and traced the length of his eyebrow, brushing your fingers down his nose, and along his nose. 

“Pretty,” you mumbled, and he leaned forward and kissed you softly. 

It was different, slower, more intimate as he cupped your cheek and tilted his head, lips plush against yours. You moaned into his mouth at the intimacy of it; the way his cock was still buried inside you, the way your mixed juices still leaked out of you, the gentle caress of his hand as he whispered loving praises into your mouth. 

Your hand trailed down his face until it rested against his throat. In a surge of confidence, a sudden flicker of realization, you pushed down on his adam's apple and he moaned into your mouth, tightening his hold on you. 

Before you could indulge yourself, take back the power you had so easily given way, Heeseung was lifting you, he held you close as he pushed up on his legs and you held onto him tightly as he guided you to fall back on the mattress, his cock still buried deep within you. 

You stared up at him in bewilderment and he grinned, a wicked look in his eyes as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your nose. Your legs had naturally lifted and he rested them against his shoulders, needing the access. He grinded his hips against yours and smiled devilishly when your walls clenched around him. 

“Not so fast, Princess,” he nipped your chin. He dragged his lips down your throat, leaving a trail of saliva. “You’re still here to serve me, aren’t you?” His breath was hot against your ear, voice tantalizing. 

You nodded and wriggled under him, needing any sort of friction. He gripped your hips and halted your movements. “Behave,” he mumbles. Just when you’re relaxing against his hold, shoulders loosening and back straight on his mattress, he tightens his hold on your hips and pulls you forward, pelvis’ meeting as his tip digs deeper into you. 

Crying out, you clutch his arms, digging your nails into his skin. He stays there for a moment, buried deep inside of you, cock twitching in sensitivity, to catch his breath. He glances up at you and breathes out a quiet laugh. 

At the sound, you open your eyes and glance up at him, smiling at the sound. He leans down and kisses your lips softly before peppering small kisses down your neck. He slowly guides your legs back down, settling on either side of him as he kisses down your body, licking and nibbling. 

He slowly shifts his body downwards, coming to lay between your legs. When he pulls his cock out of your seeping hole, he watches in absolute amazement as his seed drips out of you. He watched until it stopped, blowing onto your folds just to watch them flutter. 

You lay there, mind on overdrive as the immense pleasure from all your muscles begged to lull you asleep. Instead, you dug your hands into his hair and ran your fingers through the matted threads, needing to ground yourself. 

Heeseung takes his time as he reaches your breasts, kissing around them both softly before he sucks on each nipple interchangeably. When you moan out his name, he continues on, kissing and licking down your stomach. He presses a wet kiss to your belly button and despite the sensual environment, soft laughter erupts from your throat at the feeling and Heeseung rests his forehead against your stomach at the sound. 

He lifts his head and rests his chin on your stomach, simply staring at you. You’re looking down at him, eyes shiny with a small, bright smile on your lips and he can’t help but smile brightly at your joy. He almost says it, almost begs you to accept his devotion, but he simply presses a kiss to your hip. 

“I’d go to war for it,” he whispered against your skin. 

“For what?” Your hand is in his hair again and your nails scrape against his scalp. “I’d never ask you to go to war, Heeseung.” To get your point across, hoping he could see the mirrored devotion in your eyes, you pulled at his hair so he’d look at you properly. “You’re not going.” 

“I would, though,” he responded. He traced different shapes into your skin before kissing you again. “For your laugh? I’d go.” 

Before you could reply, before you could forbid him, he shifted downwards and pressed his nose against your cunt, holding down your hips as your legs twitched. You cried out and pulled at his hair but he was adamant, ignoring the pain and pushed your legs further apart. 

You squirmed under him as he stared at your cunt before blowing warm air on it, finding your agony humorous. Even now, you could have said that you couldn’t take any more, but he knows you’d be lying. 

He spread your legs even further before he kissed your pussy softly. “Such a pretty pussy, Your Highness,” he praises, a twinge of mockery in his voice. He meant it, he loved it so dearly, almost as much as he loved you, but there was something unforbidding in his words. 

Here he was, treating the next in line for the throne as his own personal servant, using her until she begs to stop.

Heeseung smiled against you, knowing you’d never ask to stop, even if you needed to. Nothing he could do would warrant such a reaction. 

“Hee,” you whispered. 

“I know, baby,” he nodded, his nose brushing against your slick folds. “Such a good little thing you are,” he mumbled, the vibrations going straight to your core. “Letting me have my way.” 

“Please,” you begged. “Please.” 

Instead of giving you what you wanted, he brushed two of his fingers through your pussy, holding your hips down with one arm as he coats both fingers in a mixture of both of your releases. Once he’s pleased enough, Heeseung lifts his fingers to your mouth and raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Suck.” 

Like a man starved, you latched onto his fingers. He watched with dark eyes as you sucked on his fingers, twirling your tongue around them, cleaning them completely. Just as you’re about to pull his fingers out, he presses down on your tongue, making you gag. The taste of yourself mixed with him has you rutting against his nose. 

At that exact moment, he licked a harsh stripe of your core, holding you down as you writhe under him, still gagging on his fingers. 

He presses his face closer to your cunt as his tongue pushes in and out of your sopping hole, licking and sucking as if you’re his last meal. You might as well be, knowing what could happen if you’re discovered. That thought urges him to drag his tongue along your pussy, fucking it into your cunt before sucking on your clit. 

Tears are gathering in your eyes as Heeseungs fingers remain in your mouth, you’re sucking and licking but he’s still pushing down on your tongue, drool tipping over the edge of your lips. 

He traces his name, his devotion, into your gummy walls, his nose pressing against your clit. You moan out a broken, gagged version of his name and arched your back as his nose digs further into your clit, rubbing it until he’s sure you’re all he’ll smell for weeks. 

And he will. He won’t clean himself as well, hoping the scent of his sweat and your juices mixes into his skin and it becomes his new scent. It’ll waft through the air of the castle, enticing all, but only he would know the truth. 

Heeseung pressed his face even closer to your cunt as his tongue licked and suckled, lapping up all your juices. The taste of himself mixed in with yours has his eyes rolling back, knowing he’d never taste anything that would compare. 

The sounds of slurping and his lips smacking around your clit made your legs shake as you tried pulling his fingers out of your mouth, if only to get another taste of your mixtures. He tilted his even further, pushing his tongue deeper within you and you moaned. 

He curled the tip of his tongue upwards and you almost screamed, tears falling down your cheeks at the pleasure. “Yes, yes,” you chanted, words muffled by his fingers. 

Lifting his eyes, Heeseung hummed at the sight of your pleasure, the way tears prettily fell down your cheeks, and lifted his fingers from your tongue. Before he could bring his hand back towards him, you grabbed it and settled it on your chest. His wet, dripping fingers pinched your nipples, teasing the sensitive skin. 

Needing more, you began moving your hips feverishly against his face, grinding down on him. Heeseung groaned into your cunt, making your insides vibrate, as you smeared all your slick over his face, his chin dripping with drool and arousal. 

Your sweet scent and taste overwhelmed his mind and he began losing it, rutting against the mattress like a schoolboy, his lips latching onto your clit as he pushed himself closer to your dripping cunt, nose rubbing deliciously against your bud as he slid his tongue in and out of you. 

“Seung,” you cry, eyes barely open as you watch him suck you dry. His hand shifts from your chest to the one in his hair. He threads your fingers together and squeezes once, twice, before your legs are pulsing erratically and your walls clench around his tongue. “I’m close, baby, please.” 

Heeseung’s brain short-circuited at your words, at the term, and he spread you open wider and licked at you harsher, his tongue inching towards your anus, licking long strips as he teases your clit with his nose. 

“Cum, pretty thing,” he edged, lulling you closer to your orgasm.

“Cum all over my face, Princess.” 

His words were enough to break you and your vision blurred as you moaned, your stomach coiling and uncoiling as your orgasm washed over you like cold water, soaking you completely. 

Throwing your head back, Heeseung continued to push his tongue into your gushing pussy, lips coaxing all your juices down his throat, not wasting a single drop. He licked and sucked harshly, even as you mumbled incoherently about it being too much. 

He knew it was too much, it was taking all his power to hold you down, but he needed this more than he needed life. More than he needed anything else, more than even the King could offer him. He needed every last drop you had to offer in his mouth, he needed to imprint the taste to memory, the velvety of your juices healed him, he could feel it, the way his heart had mended and his scars had healed and he was perfect and worthy of you. 

His tongue continued to lap up everything that dripped out of you, including his own drool, as you breathed harshly, chest heaving up and down as you tried to pry yourself from his hold. You didn’t really want to break free, you just wanted his mouth on yours so you could taste a bit of yourself again. 

Once he was sure he had sucked you completely dry, cleaning your inner thighs with his tongue, leaving nothing but warmth in his wake, he pressed a soft kiss to your clit. You watched him with half lidded eyes as your body twitched with sensitivity. 

“So good,” he whispered against your skin. “Such a good girl, cumming for me again.” 

He looked up at you and your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight of him; eyes wide and hair wild as your cum and slick coated his face, his sun-kissed skin glowing with sweat as he smiled at you with swollen lips. 

He looked so pleased, so completely, irrevocably and ardently in love with you. 

He kissed up your thighs and you threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged. He let you drag him up, let you bring his face to yours and he grinned at the fucked out look on your face, the way your pupils had been blown wide, lips swollen, tears staining your cheeks. 

Pulling him down, you looked up at him, his warm gaze meeting yours and you could have sworn you saw a shooting star in his eyes, or, perhaps, it was one outside. Regardless, you knew your wish. You tilted your head up and kissed him, pressing your lips flush against his, licking his bottom lip, slipping your tongue into his mouth. 

You groaned into your mouth as the taste of him and yourself flooded your mouth. Shifting his body weight, he cupped your cheeks and deepened the kiss, pouring all of his love and all of the unspoken promises he’d keep for you. 

You nipped at his lips and his legs wobbled. Resting an arm on either side of you, he held himself up as you kissed him sloppily, teeth against teeth, before you nipped at his top lip, pulling until he whined.

Pulling away, you smiled as you kissed down his throat, needing him. You licked and sucked, nibbling down his throat. With shaky arms, Heeseung tried his best to stay upright, tried his best not to crush your body. 

When you kissed his adam’s apple, his hold trembled. When you licked a long stripe of his neck, sucking his adam’s apple until it was red, he collapsed on top of you, his cock leaking against your stomach once more. 

You welcomed the weight of his body. He felt so warm; so real, so attainable, you could feel the weight of his muscles against yours, the weight crushed the lingering loneliness that had crept into your bones. 

Wrapping your arms around his body, you scratched his back and pulled at his hair as you littered his throat and jaw with kisses. He held onto you just as tightly, afraid that if he let go, he’d be back in that barn all those years ago and you’d be in your tower, and he’d never get to hold you like this. 

You both breathed deeply until your breathing synched and everything was alright in the world, you decided. Nothing else really mattered, not to you. Heeseung was here, in your arms, pressed warmly against you and that meant everything would be alright. 

You kissed his earlobe, pulling at it with your teeth, reveling in the small moan that vibrated against your chest. It cleared your mind a bit, opened your eyes. Your nails began to dig deeper into his skin, leaving marks. 

“Had your fun?” You questioned him quietly, your words nothing but a mere whisper. 

Unbeknownst to Heeseung, your lips twitched upwards when his whole body froze. You felt the way his breathing paused, the way his length twitched against your stomach. He could hear it in your voice, in the way you had sucked all the warmth out of the room. 

Slowly, as if he was beguiling a predator, Heeseung slowly lifted himself off you, legs still intertwined. His chest peeled off yours and he kept some space between your face. You looked up at him and he glanced down at you, a gentle plea in his eyes. 

Cupping his cheek, you rubbed your thumb across his cheek. “Well? Did you?” 

There it was, he shivered. Gone was your breathy, submissive voice. The one you loved to use and the one he found so much pleasure in. But this, the slightly deeper, authoritative voice, the one that bounced off the palace walls and negotiated with Princes, this voice could ask for his life and he’d give it. If it asked for his heart, he’d rip it out of his own chest and hand it over. 

Hesitantly, Heeseung nodded. “Yes, Princess. I did.” He swallowed and tried for a smile, trying to show how much he didn’t enjoy this, the sudden switch of power, hoping to conceal the way his cock was leaking onto your stomach. 

“So polite,” you teased. You trailed your hands up and down his chest, brushing your fingers against his nipples, a knowing look in your eyes when he flinched. 

“Your Highness,” Heeseung begins, ready to beg, but you press down on his bottom lip and he loses his footing. Tangling your leg with his, you push him to the side as you flip over, sitting in between his legs as he stares at you with wide eyes. 

You smile at him, the laughter in your eyes not matching the way you grab his length and shuffle forward, incredibly close to him. His breathing hitches and you brush your thumb against his tip, bringing it to your mouth, staring directly at him as you suck it clean. 

“You’re so good at it, Heeseung.” Your voice is soft, genuine. One of your hands rests on his inner thigh, too heavy on his skin. “So good at taking care of me. At giving me what I want.” 

Heeseung swallows, eyes starry and abs flexed at your movements. “Anything for you, Princess. You know that.” He was pleading. Have mercy on me, he was yelling. I’m not as strong as you, he wanted to cry out. 

“I do,” you agree. “Tell me,” you leaned down, “do you enjoy having me at your mercy? Is it arousing? Being my master? Being the only one to control me?” 

Your voice was too casual, too sultry, he couldn’t handle it. He wanted to cry but his hard on twitched in your hand and you grinned down at him. “Answer me.” 

“Yes,” he breathed out. “I do. It’s liberating and I love it.” You, he almost said. I love you. 

Your eyes darkened and you nodded, licking your bottom lip. “Me too.” You have me, she could have said. I love you. 

“Will you let me take care of you, Hee?” You squeezed the base of his cock and he arched his back, gasping at the feeling. He was so incredibly sensitive, ready to blow at any recond. 

He nodded before he spoke. “Yes, yes, Princess,” he mumbled, “Anything you want. I’m yours to use.” His eyes beseech you and you can’t help but loosen your hold on him. 

“Mine?” It’s a question you ask every time, every time you find yourself in his bed, in this room, you ask him without fail, and everytime, his answer is the same, genuine and honest. 

“Yes. Always.” 

A small, soft smile twists onto your lips and Heeseung exhales a sigh of relief. You tilt your head at him and he matches your gaze, staring at you with nothing but adoration. You lean forward and he pushes himself up, meeting your lips halfway. 

The kiss is soft, despite the fire behind your eyes. He’s soft as he kisses you, letting you control the pace. Your hand is still sliding up and down his cock, using his precum as lube, getting it ready for you. 

You pull back and to remind him that you’re as devoted, you press a soft kiss to his cheek and he falls back with a smile on his face. 

You move your hand a few times, enjoying the way his whole body twitches, how hard he tries to keep still for you, before you turn around and you miss the way Heeseung’s head falls back, knowing what’s coming. 

Shifting back, you use one hand to line him up with your entrance and your other hand is on his thigh, holding you up. “Beg,” you whisper. 

“Please,” his voice immediately breaks out. “Please, Princess. Use me, fuck me.” 

His words shoot straight to your core and you drip all over his cock, glad you had turned away, knowing you would have trembled if you had the chance to look into his big, shiny eyes. 

Slowly, you sink down on his cock, hissing at the familiar stretch. It's different than before, burns less than before, but it’s still too much, still enough to knock your head back as he bottoms out, filling you up to the brim. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles behind you, eyes twisted shut. His arms are behind him, gripping the headboard because he knows, knows you’ll tell him when he can touch you. Right now, you were in control. You needed your royal blood to pump through your veins, regain control over your composure. 

“Oh, God,” you moaned out, grinding down on his cock. Your pussy was greedy, sucking him in as if wasn’t filled to the brim only a while ago. Steadily, you pushed yourself up, biting back a groan when his veins brushed against your walls. 

Heeseung willed his eyes open, needing to burn the memory of you fucking yourself on his cock, your ass slaming into his pelvis as you used him like he was nothing but a slave, into his brain. He wished he was artistic so he could paint this picture a thousand times and keep them all for himself. 

Instead, he writhed and gasped under you, wishing he could see your face. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers along your skin and kiss your lips but he had to behave, had to listen, had to just take it, because you asked him to. 

Heeseung watched as your movements began to slow, as your shoulders trembled and your toes flexed every time you had to lift yourself. Biting his bottom lip, his eyes glinted with something primal, something possessive as he waited, and waited, and waited, and then, he heard your choked sob. 

“Heeseung,” you cried, drained of all your energy. 

At once, like it was practiced, like he was made for it, Heeseung gripped onto your hips and pulled you backwards, flush against his back as he began to slowly rock his hips forward, fucking his cock into you. 

Back arched, you moaned when his hand travelled to your throat and he held you firmly against him, tilting your head backwards as he applied just the right amount of pressure to your jugular veins, making you lightheaded as he slid in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

He smiled when you whimpered, teeth grazing the side of your throat as he bit down, pressing your ass flushed against his pelvis, the tip of cock brushing against your cervix, making you see stars. 

“T–‘S too much,” you babbled, tears lining your waterline as you tried to breathe. 

“When will you learn?” Heeseung whispers into your ear, fucking you fiercely. You don’t recognize the sound of his voice, a mixture of his sweet, advising tone mixed with something more predatory, something that has you seeing stars. “Princess to all, but a whore for me,” he breathed out. 

You almost couldn’t understand what he was saying, not with the way his thrusts grew blinding. His other hand slid down your body until it slapped your cunt, making you cry out further, arching your back, trying to get away, but his grip on your throat was strong and he kissed your neck softly.  

“I got you, Y/n. I’m the only one who ever has,” his tongue licks away your tears, “who ever will.” 

He rubs your clit, pushing down randomly and changing his speed as he continues to fuck you, aware of the way your body had given up to him completely, the way you could only mumble his name. 

He felt the way you squeezed his cock, making it almost impossible for him to slide down, the way your legs trembled, and he bit your earlobe.

“Cum.” 

You moaned as you squirted and came all over his cock, your walls clenching around his walls hard enough to pull his own orgasm, moaning loudly as he cummed inside you, hand still rubbing your clit. 

You continued to cum and he emptied himself inside you, the squelching sound becoming louder and louder as your juices mixed and he fucked into you with the same crazed pace. 

You babbled a string of words he couldn’t decipher and continued to pump into you, lost in your cunt, unable to stop. You were crying, overstimulated and emotional, and ready to fall back against him. 

When he was sure he had emptied himself completely inside you, he slowed his pace and pressed kisses all over your neck and shoulder, slowly halting the movement of his hips. You fell into a slump against his body and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, mumbling quietly to you. 

“Baby,” he whispered after a pregnant moment. “Princess.” 

You hummed, eyes too tired and droopy to open. He rubbed your stomach soothingly, trying to ground you before he moved. “Are you okay, beloved? Did I hurt you?” 

“Okay,” you mumbled, unable to turn to face him. “No.”

“Okay,” he responded. He stayed in that position for a while more, waiting until your breathing had evened out and your body had begun to respond to his light touches. Once he was sure that you were okay, not as stimulated, he tapped your arm three times. 

“I have to pull out, my Princess. Can I?” His voice was sweet again, honey and silk against your skin. 

You opened your eyes and nodded against his chest. “Yes, pull out.” 

Gently, Heeseung pulled out of your sopping cunt, biting back a hiss. He shifted his weight and maneuvered your body until you were laying in his arms, your back pressed against his chest. He knew he had much to clean up, but your eyes still fluttered shut occasionally so he put it off, knowing you needed him more. 

He ran his hands along your arms and then your shoulders, pressing into your skin occasionally to remind you that he was right behind you. You snuggled into him, back pressed flush against his chest and he wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“Tell me you’re okay,” he asked, quietly. “Tell me three things you can see.”

Licking your lips, you opened your eyes and rested your own arms over his. “I’m okay, Heeseung. I promise.” You lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. “I see… your hand, the candle I made you, and your bookshelf.” 

Heeseung released a breath of relief and kissed your shoulder.

“Come, lovely, let me run you a bath.” 

“Later,” you said. “Later.” Before he could protest, you slowly shifted in his arms until you were face-to-face, chests pressed together, hearts beating as one. 

“Just hold me, please?” 

Tilting his head down, Heesueng brushed his nose against yours and kissed your lips softly. 

“Always and forever, Princess.” 

[protestooucopa]

Mediterranean Entry Entryway - large mediterranean linoleum floor entryway idea with white walls and a black front door

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 02

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)

A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.

Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.

Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.

Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.

“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.

“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.

“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.

“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.

Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.

“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.

“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”

In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.

“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.

“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.

“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.

“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.

“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.

“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.

“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.

“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.

“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.

“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.

“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.

“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.

Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.

“Maybe if I sing-“

“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.

“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.

“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.

With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.

“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.

“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.

Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.

“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.

“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.

“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.

“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.

“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.

“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.

“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.

“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.

“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”

“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.

“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.

“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.

“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”

At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.

The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.

“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”

The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.

Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.

Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.

Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.

Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.

Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.

“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.

“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.

“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.

“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.

“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.

“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.

“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.

“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-

“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.

“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.” Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.

“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.

Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.

“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.

“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.

“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?

“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.

“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.

“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.

“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.

“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.

Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.

“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.

“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.

“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.

“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.

“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?

“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.

“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.

“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.

“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.

“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.

“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.

“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.

“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.

“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.

It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.

“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.

“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.

“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.

“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.

“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.

“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.

“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.

“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.

“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.

“She left a card on the folder.”

At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.

[xreaderanonaccount]

So Warm and Fluffy

Synopsis: Harbinger men (minus Pucinella) with an S/O who wears their Fatui coat.

Characters: Pierro, Capitone, Dottore, Pantalone, Childe

Tags; Suggestive on Childe

A/N: Gawd, I need more lore on all the harbingers. I need MORE. I also lowkey didn't know what to write for Panatalone, which sucks cause I absolutely love this man.

The party was a bore, you couldn’t help but let out a bored sigh. Pierro seemed to immediately notice this and placed a gentle hand on the bottom of your back.

“Is everything okay my dear?” Pierro whispered into your ear, you leaned against his shoulder and sighed.

“This place is a bore and there’s nothing fun.” Pierro hummed in agreement as he stared distantly towards the crowd. There was a small crowd of aristocrats huddled around you two hoping to earn a favor from the Tsaritsa. You just sighed again before looking at the giant door that beckoned you toward them.

“Dear, I’m going to walk around a bit. Is that okay?” You asked, tilting your head towards him. Pierro closed his eyes and gave a soft nod.

“Make sure you bring a scout.” Pierro sighed as he turned back to a conversation an aristocrat was trying to make. You smiled to yourself before beckoning a nearby scout to follow you. You were very lucky that the party was hosted in one of the many Fatui’s castles, even more lucky that this just so happens to be Pierro’s. You and the scout silently walked down the empty hall, your shoes echoed around before stopping by a familiar door. You smiled as you fished in your pockets, pulling out a small key. You gently placed the key inside the keyhole before turning it. With a soft click the door opened revealing a huge office. You knew this office quite well as this was Pierro’s main office. You walked towards the giant desk smiling as you picked up a small picture of you and Pierro. You gently placed the picture back down before walking around the office. Staring out the window you sighed happily staring down the garden that Pierro planted for you. You were so lost in thought, staring at the snowflakes that slowly drifted down, that you didn’t feel the soft click of the door open. You smiled to yourself thinking about the nice stroll you and Pierro took earlier in the morning. You suddenly felt warm, when you felt a soft coat gently placed on your shoulder. 

“You’ll get cold if you stay still like that.” Pierro murmured against your ear, planting a soft kiss against your cheek. His mask slightly biting your skin. You giggled as you turned to face Pierro. 

“Well if I do get cold you’ll somehow keep me warm right?” You smiled as you placed your hand right where his heart lay. Pierro deeply chuckled as he cupped your hand as you planted a soft kiss on your wrist.

“Of course, my dear.” 

Capitano grunted as he attacked the dummies with his giant claymore. You stared unapologetically at Capitano’s abs, muscle, anything your eyes looked around. You sighed dreamily as Capitano's muscles moved and contracted with each swing. You two were in the lobby of Goth Grand Hotel which Lord Regrator generously booked… forever. Capitano swung his claymore, slicing the dummies in half. Capitano huffed and puffed as he circled his shoulders. Loosening the tension in his shoulder. You clapped at Capitano’s display,

“You look so good Darling.” You smiled as you slouched against the plush lobby couch. Capitano gave out a hearty laugh before walking over to get a drink from his cup. 

“Thank you my love.” He laughed as he lifted his helmet slightly for him to wipe his sweat. You hummed as you looked around the lobby of the Goth Grand Hotel. It was quite fancy, true to Mondstadt architecture the arcs curved beautifully with etched designs watching over you two. The soft light emitting from the crystal chandelier shone upon you. Your eyes drift before you spot Capitano’s Harbinger coat. He didn’t wear it as Mondstadt’s weather didn’t deemed it cold enough for him to wear it. You traced your hand over the details of the Harbingers coat. Whoever designed it clearly had a good sense of fashion. You smiled as you pulled the heavy coat towards you. Capitano’s smell filled your senses as you took in a deep breath, allowing his scent to fill your lungs. You couldn’t help but sigh as you got comfortable on the lobby couch. You watched Capitano continue his training, his sleeveless turtleneck hug his muscles so well. Capitano swung his claymore making eye contact with you who was snug underneath his harbinger coat.

“Comfortable?” Capitano asked, hoisting his claymore over his shoulder. You nodded as you pulled the black fur close to your face.

“Your jacket is very comfortable.”  You smiled as you adjusted your position, Capitano laughed as he turned back to his dummies.

“Well then I'll ask Pantalone about getting you a custom one." You can hear Capitano smile as he slashed at the nearest dummy. You couldn't help but laugh,

"That would be nice wouldn't it?"

You shivered inside Dottore’s lab. Your lover is a mad man so of course he loves to have his lab ac on in an already really cold nation. You are already wearing thick layers but the cold keeps biting your skin. 

“Can we please turn the heater on?” You asked, but it seemed the question fell on deaf ears. As none of the segments seemed to hear you, they were too busy arguing with something that you couldn’t understand. You frowned slightly as the cold got to you. You got up and started to pace around the lab trying to warm yourself up. It was slightly working if it wasn’t for the fact that every other step you were taking you were bumping into one of the many segments. You always apologize and move out of the way. You did a couple more laps before you were stopped by Omega who just gave a small smile.

“Darling dearest, I believe you’re getting in the way. How about staying in Prime’s office till he returns?” He asked, not even waiting for your answer before guiding you towards Dottore’s office. You tried to protest but it seemed that protest didn’t reach Omega who just opened the office door and gently pushed you in.

“I’ll ask Delta to bring you something to eat, just stay put okay?” Omega gave you a smile before closing the door with a soft click. You sighed in frustration as you waltz around Dottore’s office. It looked off putting for some people, but you thought it was just his weird hobby. The assortment of body parts in jars, taxidermy animals, different types of ruin guards splattered around. It was a mess but a weird organized mess. You walked around his desk sitting down on his plush chair. Still freezing cold, you looked around the office spotting a small closet in the corner. Smiling, you got up and walked towards the door. Maybe Dottore at least will have a lab coat or something for you to wear. Opening the wooden doors, they gave a soft groan as you peered inside. The closet was mainly empty except for one item, his Fatui harbinger coat. You smiled to yourself as you ran your hand through the fabric. It was so soft under your hand, the soft metal clanked against each other as you cupped the teal crystal. You admired the crystal in your hands as it sparkled in the light. You gently took the coat off the hanger and put it on. The warmth instantly engulfs you, along with his scent. You smiled to yourself as you walked back towards his desk chair. You plopped down back on the plush chair, wiggling a bit, getting yourself comfortable on the plush chair. Finally comfortable in the severe cold lab you nuzzled your head against the black fur. The thick winter coat made you instantly feel warm. As you enjoy the deserved warmth you feel your eyes becoming droopy. Sleep lures you in as you close your eyes, the warmth, dottore’s cologne, and the comfort of being close to the segments. It seemed that you lost the battle as sleep took over slouching against the desk chair.

Dottore walked into the lab to the buzzing sounds and movements. He rolled his shoulder as he put on his white lab jacket. Before he could get to his experiment table he was stopped by Delta who handed him a report.

“Here is that report you wanted,” Delta nodded as Dottore took it out of his hands. He flipped through the pages pleased by the results.

“Good, get back to work.” Dottore threw the report back to Delta’s arms, who just nodded. But before he was able to get back to work Delta told him about your state and how cold you were. Dottore rolled his eyes as he knew you would be cold and asked what they did about it. Delta mentioned that you paced around a bit before being put into his office. Dottore was curious about what you had gotten up to in his office. Dismissing Delta, Dottore headed to his office giving soft raps against his own office door. He thought this was silly but he rather you not throw something at him then be startled for a bit. When he didn’t hear a response he opened the door, only to be greeted by you snuggled up in his fatui harbinger coat sleeping on his office chair. Dottore smirked as he walked over to you, watching your sleeping form. Oh how naive you are to let your guard down, if you were anyone else he would have stuck so many different types of needles into you. Draw some blood samples, screw it, why not inject you with a mind altering drug? But lucky for you, you were his darling dearest, and he could never hurt you. He smiled to himself before tilting his mask up just enough for him to plant a kiss on top of your head without it poking your head. With a very rare and out of character soft smile Dottore turned back and headed to work. At least he doesn’t have to hear you complain about the cold.

You and Pantalone walked down Snezhnaya’s greenhouse, a greenhouse that was owned by the Fatui for the public to see ecosystems from different regions. Hand in hand you walked down as you listened to a guide explain each plant from different regions. You smile as you listen to the guide, you would glance back at Pantalone who would always smile at you but you knew for a fact that he was bored out of his mind. He got particularly bored during the Liyue region, you didn’t care, you were just happy to see so much green. Snezhnaya is always cold and has deep shades of blue, so seeing this much green always makes you feel better. You two concluded your tour and were ready to head out, but as soon as you stepped outside the bitter wind blew against your face. You shivered against your already thick jacket, it seemed that the Snezhnaya weather had dipped way below freezing. You breathe into your hands to keep yourself warm, but alas it didn’t work. You stared out on the snow covered streets. Pantalone said that a vehicle should be coming soon but you couldn’t see crap. You felt yourself being pulled gently back inside the greenhouse before having a thick outer layer gently placed on your shoulder. You looked behind to see Pantalone smiling at you, he was wearing his purple inner jacket which seemed to do little to hide Pantalone’s shiver. 

“Pantalone, you’re shivering here.” You tried to protest by removing his Fatui coat off your shoulder but you were stopped as Pantalone placed it back on your shoulders.

“I’ll be fine my lily, your comfort is my utmost priority.” Pantalone smiled as he then turned to one of the workers ``kindly” asking them to bring a heater. Kindly is putting it nicely, more like he was demanding it with a nice tone. You giggled a bit before settling down on a nearby seat. Pantalone turned back to you giving you a rare soft smile that he only gives when you two were completely alone. 

“You look ravenous in my coat dear, I should have the tailor make one to your size.” He smiled as he adjusted the collar. 

“That would be nice,” you smiled as you saw a light shine through the greenhouse's door.

You were rummaging through Childe’s closet, as Teucer wrote a letter missing Childe. So in return you thought it would be really cute to send one of Childe’s dress shirts over, hoping it would keep the young lad at bay. As you rummage through you feel something soft and fluffy brush against your hand. You paused for sec, Childe doesn’t own anything fluffy. He’s normally wearing something semi-fancy or an outfit fit for a warrior. Letting your thoughts get you, you pulled the fluffy object out of the closet. You gave a soft smile as you pulled his formal overcoat out. You brushed against the fabric, you normally only get to see him wearing this during special events. And when those special events happen you normally can’t see him because you’re so far away from the stage to see the harbingers so close. But when you do get a glimpse you understand the girls in Snezhnaya who fawn over the harbingers. Childe looks so handsome in the coat, and looks very warm. 

An idea popped into your head as you walked out of the walk-in closet. You pranced towards the giant mirror that sat in your shared bedroom. Gently putting the outer coat on you were overwhelmed by Childe’s cologne. You smiled as you hugged the coat closer to you. Looking at yourself in the mirror you were engulfed by his coat. The metal charms softly clanked against each other as you gave yourself a little twirl. Smiling to yourself you cuddled yourself into the black fur. It was so soft and warm and reminded you so much of Childe. As you were lost in your thoughts you suddenly felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. You yelped in surprise before you heard a familiar chuckle. 

“You look so cute Zolotse.” You hear Childe mumble against the fur.

“Ajax! You’re home early.” You looked at him in surprise. He smiled as he stared loving at you.

“Yeah, I was able to finish work early and was just too excited to come home.” He laughed a bit before burying his head back into the fur coat. You leaned into Childe’s lean body as you two stayed in that position for a moment. 

“Maybe I’ll ask Pantalone to make a custom jacket for you.” Childe smiled as he picked you up in ease and twirled you around. You two laughed before Childe dropped you two on your soft bed. He was on top of you while you were sprawled against the bed. The Coat slightly hanging on you.

“Ha, you look so cute wearing my clothes. I wonder…” Childe gave a devious smile before you playfully hit his shoulder.

“Take me to dinner first Mr.Fatui Harbinger.” You two laughed as Childe fell on top of you engulfing you in a hug.