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servicepen · 9 months ago

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Chains ⛓️

Satan x reader

Tw: They're fighting, a bit of angst

5,7 k words

This was so fun to write

The story begins after the cut

The tension in the air was suffocating, thick with the weight of unspoken words and lingering resentment. It was as if the warmth you once shared with Satan had been replaced by an oppressive heat that burned rather than comforted. For the past year, your relationship with him had been unraveling thread by thread, each argument leaving you more frayed than the last. It was exhausting, a slow erosion of everything you had built together.

It wasn’t just the fights—though those had become more frequent. It was the silence, the distance. Satan had always been temperamental, his emotions running hot and fierce, but he had also been someone you could rely on, someone who made you feel seen, even in his dragon form where his monstrous size should have been intimidating. Now, his anger felt like a barrier, something that kept you at arm's length while simultaneously threatening to consume you.

And tonight, it had reached a breaking point.

“Satan, just act mature for once!” you snapped, your voice sharp with frustration. You hated how desperate you sounded, but the words had clawed their way out before you could stop them. His behavior had been unbearable lately—erratic, short-tempered, possessive. You had tried to reason with him, to understand what was driving this change, but every attempt had been met with anger or icy dismissal.

His eyes, those blazing golden eyes you had once found so captivating, narrowed at your words. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he began to transform before your eyes. His human form melted away, replaced by the towering, terrifying figure of his dragon self. Scales rippled across his body, catching the dim light and reflecting it in flashes of gold and crimson. His wings unfurled, their shadow stretching across the room, and his tail thudded against the ground with a force that made the walls quake.

“You’re calling me immature?” he snarled, his voice a guttural growl that made the ground beneath you tremble. “You’re the one who’s never satisfied! Always pushing, always demanding!”

The oppressive heat of his anger pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. His size alone was overwhelming, but it was the raw fury in his eyes that made your heart pound with a mixture of fear and defiance.

“I’m pushing because you’ve changed!” you shouted back, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re not the same person I fell in love with. I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words needed to be said, even if they hurt. Especially if they hurt.

His roar shook the room, a sound of pure rage and anguish. Steam hissed from his snout, and the temperature in the room rose sharply, making your skin prickle. “You think you can just walk away from me?” he growled, his four golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “You think I’ll let you?”

You took a shaky step back, your hands trembling at your sides. “I’m not asking for your permission, Satan,” you said, your voice quivering but firm. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

The words felt like shards of glass leaving your mouth, each one slicing through your resolve and leaving you raw. But you couldn’t stop now. You had to leave, for your own sake.

His body tensed, his claws digging into the ground with a sound like grinding stone. “You can’t leave me!” he roared, his voice reverberating through the room. He lunged forward, his massive form looming over you, and you stumbled back, your heart hammering in your chest. His tail lashed out, smashing into a nearby pillar and sending chunks of stone crashing to the floor.

“You’re mine, Y/N!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cutting through his fury.

“No, I’m not!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. “I’m not your possession, Satan! I’m my own person, and I won’t let you trap me here!” Your voice broke on the last word, and you turned, your legs trembling as you forced yourself to walk toward the door.

But Satan wasn’t finished. His massive clawed hand slammed into the ground in front of you, blocking your path. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, and you staggered, barely keeping your footing. The heat radiating from him was unbearable, and the sheer size of his claws—each one as long as your arm—made your stomach churn with fear.

“You don’t understand,” he growled, his voice lower now, almost pleading. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t lose you.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your resolve falter for a moment, but then you looked up at him—at the towering, menacing figure he had become—and felt a fresh wave of frustration and anger. This wasn’t love. This was control, possessiveness, obsession. And you couldn’t live like this anymore.

“Satan, you already have,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart.

His roar of anguish was deafening, and before you could react, his tail lashed out again, this time catching you in its path. The force of the blow sent you flying across the room, your body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. Pain exploded through your ribs and shoulder, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Satan’s voice was a mixture of horror and rage, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Tears blurred your vision as you clutched your side, the pain making it hard to breathe.

He moved toward you, his massive form trembling, and for a moment, you thought he might reach for you. But then he stopped, his claws curling into fists as he growled low in his throat. “You can’t leave me,” he said again, his voice softer now, almost broken. “I won’t survive without you.”

You forced yourself to your feet, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through your body. “You don’t need me, Satan,” you said, your voice shaking. “You just don’t want to be alone. But I can’t be the one to fill that void for you anymore.”

His wings drooped, and for a moment, he looked almost small despite his massive size. But the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Isn’t that enough?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. Love isn’t supposed to hurt.” Your voice broke, and you turned, forcing yourself to walk away from him despite the pain in your body and the agony in your heart.

Behind you, Satan’s roar echoed through the room, a sound of pure, unrestrained fury and despair. You felt the ground shake as his tail lashed out again, smashing into another pillar, and the sound of stone crumbling filled the air. But you didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

Each step felt like a battle, your body screaming in protest, your heart shattering with every movement. But you kept going, because staying would destroy you.

And as the door closed behind you, muffling the sound of Satan’s anguished roars, you let out a sob, your tears falling freely. You had done it. You had walked away.

But at what cost?

__________

Satan was more than just angry—his rage was primal, a force of nature that couldn’t be contained. The walls of his lair trembled as his enormous claws raked against them, sending shards of stone and debris crashing to the ground. His tail lashed out, smashing into a crystal chandelier that shattered into a rain of glittering shards, scattering across the floor like fallen stars. The air was thick with the acrid scent of destruction, the heat emanating from his body warping the very air around him.

He was a storm, a whirlwind of fury and pain, and nothing was safe from his wrath. Bookshelves that once held ancient tomes toppled under the force of his claws, their contents spilling onto the ground before being crushed underfoot. The ground beneath him cracked with each step he took, fissures snaking out in every direction. He tore through furniture as though it were paper, ornate carvings and polished wood splintering into jagged fragments. Every piece of glass he came across was reduced to glittering dust, the sound of shattering crystal echoing like a symphony of despair.

The lair, once grand and majestic, was now a battlefield of his anger. Flames licked at the edges of the room, ignited by the heat of his rage, casting flickering shadows that danced on the walls like restless spirits. Satan didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the pain coursing through him, a deep, gnawing ache that he couldn’t escape. His roars shook the very foundation of the underworld, a terrifying sound that sent lesser demons fleeing in terror.

“HOW COULD SHE LEAVE?” he bellowed, his voice cracking with emotion. He swiped his massive claws at a marble column, obliterating it in a single strike. The ceiling groaned in protest as debris rained down, yet Satan paid no heed. His golden eyes blazed with fury, his pupils mere slits as he continued his rampage.

It was only when his claw struck something small and fragile that he hesitated. A faint clinking sound cut through the chaos, barely audible over the destruction. His golden eyes snapped to the source, glowing faintly in the dim light of the burning room. Amid the rubble and broken glass, something gleamed—a photo frame, miraculously intact, lying on its side amid the wreckage.

Satan froze, his massive form looming over the small object. For a moment, his breathing was the only sound in the room, heavy and ragged. Slowly, he reached out, his clawed hand trembling as he picked up the frame. It was absurdly small in his grasp, almost laughable compared to his immense size, yet he held it as delicately as if it might shatter at the slightest touch.

The photo inside was of you and him. You were smiling, your face lit with a happiness that felt like a distant memory. Satan was beside you, his human form serene, his eyes soft as they looked at you. The image was a snapshot of peace, of love, of everything he had lost.

His rage faltered, the fire in his eyes dimming as he stared at the photo. The destruction around him—the shattered glass, the toppled furniture, the scorched walls—blurred into the background. All he could see was the picture, the reminder of what had been. His claws shook as he held the frame, his vision blurring as something wet and unfamiliar welled up in his eyes.

For the first time in eons, perhaps millennia, Satan felt tears streaming down his face. They fell hot and heavy, sizzling as they hit the ground. His chest heaved with a sob he couldn’t contain, the sound low and guttural, filled with a sorrow that seemed to echo through every corner of Hell.

He fell to his knees, the ground trembling beneath his weight, and let out a roar that shook the very fabric of the underworld. It wasn’t a roar of anger, though there was still rage simmering beneath the surface. It was a cry of despair, a sound so raw and unrestrained that it rippled through Hell like a tidal wave. Lesser demons cowered, their own instincts screaming at them to flee, while the air itself seemed to shudder in mourning.

Satan’s massive form hunched over the photo, his wings drooping as he clutched it to his chest. The chaos around him felt hollow now, meaningless in the face of his loss. He had destroyed everything in his path, but it hadn’t brought you back. It hadn’t filled the gaping hole you had left in his heart.

“I… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. His claws tightened around the frame, careful not to crush it. “Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I stop? I should have stopped…”

Another sob wracked his massive frame, shaking him to his core. His mind replayed every moment he had pushed you away, every argument, every cold silence. He had thought he was protecting you by keeping his distance, by burying his emotions deep where they couldn’t harm you. But instead, he had only driven you further away.

The lair was silent now, save for the crackle of the remaining flames and the sound of Satan’s quiet, ragged sobs. The destruction around him felt insignificant, a monument to his failure. His golden eyes, dulled with sorrow, remained fixed on the photo, the only thing left of the happiness he had taken for granted.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, kneeling amid the wreckage with the photo clutched tightly to his chest. Time had no meaning in his despair. All he knew was that he had lost you, and for the first time in his existence, he felt truly powerless.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

But the words felt hollow, echoing in the emptiness you had left behind. And for the first time in a billion years, Satan, the great and terrible ruler of Hell, wept.

________

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single lamp casting long shadows over the chessboard between you and Coraline. Your fingers brushed absently against the edge of the table, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts that you couldn’t quite corral into coherence. The weight of the past month bore heavily on your shoulders, the silence between you and Satan stretching endlessly, a chasm neither of you seemed willing to cross.

“Don’t you think you’ve given him enough of a silent treatment? It’s been over a month now,” Coraline said, her voice even as she moved one of the chess pieces with deliberate precision.

You crossed your arms, your gaze fixed on the board but seeing nothing. “I’m not sure,” you muttered, your voice thick with frustration. “He’s Satan. He’ll never let his pride down to go talk to his *little girlfriend*.” The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, and they cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Saying it out loud made it feel too real. You weren’t just doubting him—you were doubting the foundation of everything you had with him.

Coraline tilted her head, her expression sympathetic but firm. “I heard down in Wrath that Satan isn’t in a good mood. Maybe he does miss you. Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment to apologize.”

You let out an exasperated huff, your emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface. “I’m not responsible for him!” you snapped, the words coming out sharper than you intended. Your hands found their way to your hair, clutching at it as if the action could keep you grounded. “If he’s so sorry, he would’ve already found me! He’s Satan—he could do anything if he really wanted to.”

The truth in your own words stung. You weren’t just angry at him—you were hurt. And that pain felt like a wound that wouldn’t heal, no matter how much time you gave it. “He has Yogirt to calm his temper,” you continued, your voice quieter now, the edge dulled by the heaviness in your chest. “I’m not his therapist.”

You leaned back, finally taking a deep breath, as if trying to fill the void inside you. But it didn’t help. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your grip tightening around the soft plushie you had borrowed from Coraline’s daughter. The poor thing bore the brunt of your frustration, your fingers wringing it as though it could somehow absorb your emotions.

Coraline sighed, the sound long and weary. “You know, I won’t stop you from feeling how you feel,” she said, her tone gentle but laced with that undeniable edge of truth. “But remember who we’re talking about here. This is Satan. If he’s keeping away, it’s probably because of Yogirt. He doesn’t like being without you, Y/N. You know that.”

Her words struck a chord, though you didn’t want to admit it. You sank deeper into the couch, your body curling into itself as if trying to shield yourself from the reality she had laid bare. Coraline was right. Satan hated being apart from you. He had proven it time and time again, in ways that were both endearing and suffocating. When you had left him before, his rage had been terrifying—but beneath it, there had been a desperation that you couldn’t forget.

But this time, something was different. This time, you weren’t sure if you could forgive him.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… he let his title get in the way. He let his status mean more to him than I do. And that hurts. More than anything.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you quickly looked away, as though avoiding Coraline’s gaze would make you feel less exposed. But you couldn’t escape your own thoughts. The image of Satan—his fiery temper, his golden eyes blazing with authority, his voice commanding entire realms—clashed with the softer moments you had shared. The moments where he had been vulnerable, where he had held you close and whispered things you never thought you’d hear from one of the Sins of Hell.

You shook your head, trying to clear the images that only made your heart ache more. “I needed time,” you said finally, the words trembling on your lips. “Time to figure out what I want. Not what he wants. Not what everyone expects of me.”

Coraline didn’t reply right away, and the silence stretched between you. Finally, she rose from her seat, her movements slow and deliberate. “I get it,” she said, her tone soft but resolute. “You need time. You deserve time. But just remember, Y/N… you can’t run from him forever. You know that as well as I do.”

Her words hit you like a weight, the truth of them undeniable. Satan wasn’t someone you could hide from. Not truly. And deep down, you didn’t want to. But the thought of facing him now, while your emotions were still so raw, felt unbearable.

You sighed, letting yourself sink even further into the couch. “I’ll talk to him next week,” you muttered, the words tasting uncertain even as you said them. “I just… I need to collect my feelings first.”

Coraline nodded, her expression understanding but tinged with worry. “Fine by me,” she said simply, before leaving you alone in the room.

The silence that followed was oppressive, pressing down on you like a weight. You stared at the chessboard, the pieces frozen mid-game, a visual representation of the stalemate between you and Satan. Your fingers traced the edge of the couch absentmindedly, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm of doubt, guilt, and longing.

You knew Coraline was right. Satan wouldn’t take this silence much longer. He would come for you eventually, as he always did. And when he did, you would have to face him. You would have to decide if you could forgive him, if you could let go of the anger and pain that had driven you to leave in the first place.

But for now, all you could do was sit with your feelings, trying to untangle the mess inside you. Trying to figure out if the love you still felt for him was enough to overcome the hurt.

_______

Satan was devastated.

Every passing day without you felt like a blade carving into his chest, a sharp reminder of what he had lost—your smile, your laughter, the way you’d light up even the darkest corners of his existence. The bed felt like a cold, lifeless void without your warmth beside him. He had always taken your presence for granted, but now, with the silence stretching unbearably, he realized just how much you meant to him. You weren’t just a companion; you were his anchor, his solace in a world that often felt chaotic and uncontrollable.

He knew exactly where you were. The moment you left, he had made sure you were safe. He might have been prideful, but his protective instincts were sharper than any blade. Knowing you were sound and secure should have eased his torment, but it didn’t. It irked him, gnawed at him, that he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t see you, couldn’t hold you close and tell you how much he missed you. The space between you felt insurmountable, and it was driving him mad.

Satan’s nights were endless. Sleep was a luxury he hadn’t tasted in weeks. His mind replayed every moment he had with you—your laughter, the way you’d scrunch your nose when annoyed, the softness of your hand in his. And then it would turn to the moments he had failed you, the times his temper had boiled over, the words he wished he could take back. Guilt coiled tightly around his heart, suffocating him.

The phone in his hand was a lifeline and a curse. Your contact sat at the top of his list, the little icon mocking him with its silence. He stared at it, his thumb hovering over the screen as his chest tightened. He wanted to message you. No, he needed to. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to reach out, to bridge the gap, to fix what he had broken. But his pride shackled him, holding him back every time he came close to pressing send.

“Give her space,” Yogirt had warned him. The words played on an endless loop in his mind, but they felt like a punishment. Space? Wasn’t it space that had driven you away in the first place? Satan clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around the phone until his claws threatened to crack the screen. He hated feeling this helpless, this... human.

He scrolled through his contacts in frustration, the names of his fellow sins flashing past. Maybe he should ask Beelzebub or Asmodeus for advice. Bee was grounded and wise in ways Satan couldn’t always appreciate, and Asmodeus—well, if anyone knew the intricacies of relationships, it was him. And they both date the lower class. But the thought of admitting his failure, of revealing just how vulnerable he had become, made his stomach churn.

He threw the phone onto his desk, the clatter breaking the oppressive silence of the room.

His chambers were a mess, mirroring the storm inside him. Books lay scattered across the floor, some torn from his fits of rage. The curtains hung limply, darkened by the heat that radiated off his demon form. He hadn’t been able to revert to his smaller form in weeks—a fact that unnerved him more than he cared to admit. His massive horns curved ominously, his golden eyes burned with an unrelenting fire, and his wings, usually folded neatly, hung low and limp, dragging against the floor.

The lack of control terrified him. He was Satan, the embodiment of Wrath, a force to be reckoned with—and yet, you held more power over him than any celestial or infernal being ever could. He hated it. He hated how much he needed you. It was a dependency he hadn’t anticipated, one that left him feeling raw and exposed.

And yet, in his heart of hearts, he knew the truth: it wasn’t your fault. It was his. He had driven you away, let his title, his pride, and his temper overshadow the love he felt for you. He hadn’t seen the hurt in your eyes, the pain he had inflicted until it was too late. That image of you—your face crumpling in despair, your voice trembling as you told him you needed space—haunted him. It was etched into his memory, a scar that no amount of time could erase.

Satan ran a clawed hand through his horns, his frustration mounting as he paced the room. “Why couldn’t I just... stop?” he muttered to himself, his voice low and guttural. “Why did I let it get this far?”

He thought of the small moments he had missed, the times he could have told you how much you meant to him but chose not to. He had let his pride convince him that his actions were enough, that you understood the depth of his feelings without him needing to say the words. But now, he wasn’t so sure.

The truth was, he was terrified. You had him wrapped around your finger, and that scared him more than anything else. You had the power to hurt him, to break him in ways no one else could. He had kept you at arm’s length to protect himself, to maintain control—but in doing so, he had pushed you away, and now the absence of you was unbearable.

Satan’s chest heaved with a growl, a deep rumble that shook the room. His eyes darted to the phone on the desk, his mind racing. Should he call? Should he message you? Should he do something? The indecision tore at him, the war between his pride and his desperation leaving him paralyzed.

Finally, he collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his massive form sinking into the mattress. His wings drooped further, the weight of them almost as heavy as the weight in his chest. He buried his face in his hands, his claws digging lightly into his scalp as he fought the urge to scream.

“I miss you,” he whispered, the words muffled but heavy with emotion. “I miss you so damn much.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to hold you again, to hear your voice, to see that soft smile that always melted his defenses. The thought brought a lump to his throat, his golden eyes glistening as he blinked back the emotion threatening to spill over.

You were the only one who could calm the storm inside him, the only one who made him feel human in a way that no one else ever could. And now, without you, he was lost—a shadow of himself, a king without his queen.

He wanted to believe he could fix this, that he could find the words to make you come back. But for now, all he could do was sit in the emptiness of his own making, waiting and hoping that the love you had for him was still enough.

______

A week had passed, and now you found yourself standing before the obsidian gates, their sheer size and dark aura looming over you like a physical weight. It had taken every ounce of courage to make it here, and even now, as your fingers brushed the cool, etched surface of the gates, doubt gnawed at you. Should you have come? Should you have stayed away?

The imps bowed as you passed through, their expressions a strange mix of respect and relief. Some even whispered among themselves, glad to see you back, though their tones held a note of apprehension. It only made your unease grow. What had he done in your absence? The question was a constant thrum in your mind, but the answer was just out of reach, a shadow waiting to pounce.

Your steps echoed in the vast hall as you made your way toward his usual spot. The silence was unbearable, amplifying the sound of your racing heart. When you reached the room, it was empty. The sight struck a chord of unease in you. This was his place of solace, where he usually brooded when things became too much. But now, the chair he so often occupied sat cold and unused. The air was heavy, thick with a tension that pressed against your skin like a physical force.

You turned to one of his assistants lingering nearby. Their face was pale, their movements hesitant. “Where is he?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

The assistant flinched but answered, “He’s been in his chamber. For days now. No one can get in. He... he’s not himself.”

The cryptic reply did nothing to soothe your nerves. Your stomach twisted as you made your way to his private chambers. The corridors seemed darker than usual, the shadows deeper, and the air grew hotter the closer you got. Finally, you stood before the massive door, its surface pulsing faintly with the glowing runes that protected it. Even without touching it, you could feel the oppressive energy radiating from behind it.

Steeling yourself, you knocked. The sound felt pitifully small against the weight of the door. A growl answered almost immediately, low and guttural, vibrating through the air. It wasn’t just a warning—it was a command. Leave.

“It’s me,” you said, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound firm. “Please, Satan. Let me in.”

Another growl followed, sharper this time, like a knife slicing through the air. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” came his voice, deeper and rougher than you’d ever heard it. It barely sounded human.

Your heart sank, the raw vulnerability in his tone conflicting with the primal fear that his growl had stirred. “I don’t care how you look,” you said, your voice softening. “I just want to talk. Please.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a loud creak and a burst of hot air that nearly singed your skin, the door opened. You stepped inside, and the sight before you made you freeze.

He was massive, far larger than anything you’d ever seen. His dragon form filled the chamber, his hulking frame hunched awkwardly in the too-small space. His scales gleamed like molten gold, sharp and jagged, and his claws dug deep into the stone floor, leaving long, jagged gouges. Four glowing eyes pierced the dim light, their golden intensity terrifying and alien. His wings, tattered and massive, cast jagged shadows across the room, and his tail lashed behind him, hitting the walls with enough force to send cracks spidering through the stone.

The heat was overwhelming, the air thick and suffocating, and the primal power emanating from him made your knees weak. You had seen him angry before, in his smaller forms, but this—this was something else entirely. This was raw, unrestrained, and terrifying. For the first time, you truly understood why he was called Wrath.

“Satan...” His name barely escaped your lips, your voice quivering.

He growled low, a rumbling sound that shook the room. Steam hissed from his nostrils, the heat so intense that it stung your skin. His four eyes narrowed, focusing on you, and you felt your heart race. It wasn’t just fear—it was heartbreak. This was the man, the demon, you loved, but in this form, he was almost unrecognizable. He wasn’t just a dragon. He was rage personified, and it frightened you.

“Can you... can you make yourself smaller?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Another growl, this one tinged with frustration. His massive claws scraped against the floor as he shifted awkwardly. His eyes flickered with something—shame, maybe? Then, his deep, rumbling voice came, distorted and broken. “Stuck,” he managed to say, the word guttural and strained, as if even speaking in this form was a struggle.

Your breath hitched. Stuck. He couldn’t control it. He couldn’t even talk properly. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. Whatever had happened while you were gone, it had pushed him past his limits, and now he was trapped in this monstrous form.

Tears pricked your eyes as you took a hesitant step forward. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He huffed, the force of it sending a hot gust of air past you. His claws shifted, and his tail lashed again, knocking over a massive shelf that shattered on impact. His eyes darted to you, frantic and wild, and for the first time, you saw something else beneath the rage—fear. He was scared.

“You’re scared,” you said, the words breaking something inside you. “You didn’t want me to see this. To see you like this.”

He let out a low rumble, almost a whine, and lowered his head slightly. His four eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, they glistened with something you never thought you’d see from him—tears.

The sight broke you. You stepped closer, placing a tentative hand on the edge of his massive claw. “Satan,” you said softly. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. But you have to talk to me. You can’t keep shutting me out like this.”

He let out a long, shuddering breath, the heat of it washing over you. Slowly, as if the effort was immense, his form began to shrink. His horns receded, his wings folded awkwardly against his back, and his scales dulled. Finally, he was back in his more humanoid form, but even now, he seemed smaller somehow. Defeated.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse and cracking. His golden eyes locked onto yours, filled with guilt and anguish. “I didn’t know how to face you. I didn’t know how to ask for your forgiveness.”

You blinked back tears, your hands trembling as you cupped his face. “Why, Satan? Why didn’t you tell me how much you were struggling?”

“Because I’m not supposed to struggle!” he burst out, his voice breaking. “I’m Wrath. I’m supposed to be strong, in control. But you... you make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. I’m terrified of losing you. I’m terrified of how much I need you.”

His confession tore through you. You had always known he was prideful, but hearing this, seeing him so vulnerable, shattered every wall you’d built around your heart. “You won’t lose me,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “But you have to let me in. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

He nodded, his tears spilling over as he clung to you, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. “I’ll do better,” he promised, his voice trembling. “I’ll try. I’ll do anything to keep you by my side.”

And for the first time in weeks, the distance between you felt surmountable. You held him tightly, letting him sob into your shoulder, and silently vowed to face the future together—no matter how difficult it might be.

I Thank you for all the Love and support! it makes me keep going!

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @ayanazoldyck

#I love this so much #satan x reader #helluva boss

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