#helluva Satan x reader

[kirax-emd]

I now need more than 2 000 Satan x reader RIGHT THIS INSTANT

Writers CHOP CHOP CHOP

[the-s1lly-corner]

Satan x positive but dominant!reader

Not sure if dominant is the right word-- more like "reader who doesn't take shit and shuts it down before it starts" but that's... a long title

Notes: reader is gn, this is a request, short post, written on mobile, still trying to get a feel for Satan

CWs: none

big angry man folding in an instant under his more fierce and wicked partner... except his partner is truly one of the sweetest and most optimistic people youve ever met in your life-- okay... well folding isnt the best word, its more like... heeling... backing down... its not instant but with enough of a glare you can make him sit back and hold his tongue for at least a little bit

which is a lot more than most people can even dream of doing!

sometimes your positivity sickens him but in an odd way he finds it endearing. he only tolerates it from you, if anyone else dared to tell him to look on the bright side or to take a chill pill he would smite them right where they stand

"someones going to die today." "of fun!" thats it thats the dynamic

you have single handedly saved so many lives when hes feeling cranky

doesnt dare speak up against you when you give him the look, he knows better than to try to argue with you when youve decided something isnt a good idea or worth the trouble or hassle

the longest most defeated sigh after staring at you for a long moment before conceding and agreeing with you- whatever the circumstance may be.... not incinerating someone where they stand.... or simply accepting that pepsi is okay when he wanted coke

[msbug15]

SATAN HC'S

I don't even like Helluva (or Hazbin) that much but since nobody has done it yet, I gotta write something Satan related cus LORDY LORDY I NEED SOME FIC'S OF HIM

• Definitely built you your own balcony in the court room. It'll probably be a little further away from where he sits or near the sins.

• But if you're not feeling the balcony that day, he'll let you sit on his shoulder.

• Has a photograph of you in the inside pocket of his jacket.

• Pulls out said photograph when he's bored or if you're not at a trial one day. Will probably do "I miss my wife, tails, I miss her a lot" to Yogirt, his therapist dude.

• If Satan gets very angry Yogirt will probably say "Satan, do I need to get (name) over here?" And he'll immediately back down.

• But if he really wants to pick a fight that day, he'll just brush it off thinking Yogirt's bluffing.

• He will immediately sit his big dragon butt down when he sees Yogirt pulling you up on speed dial.

• Gives you nicknames like: My Treasure, Darlin, Songbird (Wink wink), Cher, ect.

• Will lean his head over the railings of your balcony to give you a quick peck on the forehead or for a mini cuddle.

• I imagine you'll probably have a Demon bull king and Princess iron fan from lmk type relationship if you're just as bad as he is.

[fromduck]

(Satan x Fallen Angel Reader)

(A/N: From the minute I saw him I— 😳😩)

-Imagine being Satan’s small wife.

-You a little fallen angel that hangs around his shoulder. Being his voice of reason whenever he gets pissed off.

-You fit in the palm of his hands and he’s always picking you up by the scruff of your neck— as if you were an unruly kitten (with how mischievous you get, throwing harmless pranks on him and his followers, could you blame him?)

-You’re always fluttering your wings and trailing after him. Cooing at him, calling him your baby girl when he’s a 20 ft gigantic demon that can spit fire and roast you in a second.

-After a long day of meetings and trials for some sorry hell spawns, he’ll call you over to go home for the day.

-You cuddle next to him in your guys’ gigantic bed, talking his ear off about how your day went while he mindlessly strokes your fluffy wings.

-He huffs at you when you place a big smooch on his snout, wishing him a good night. Huddling next to his face for warmth.

-He may be one of the most fearsome sin out of the seven, but in your eyes, he’s your gentle giant husband. And even though he might not show affection in a normal way—— you know that he loves you too ❤️‍🔥

[trashogram]

Honey, I Shrunk

Satan/Reader - Your man hates shrinking down to your size bc he’s already a little bitch

{Rated M forrrrrrr the whole point of this silly ficlet}

*~*~*~*

You sighed while leaning back on your elbows, and eyeing up your lover as he literally towered above you.

“Sweetheart, why do you have to make this so difficult?” You asked in a sugarcoated tone.

Satan huffed through his nostrils, smoke and steam billowing into a short lived fog that hung above you. He looked down at you with four narrow eyes as blazing as the sun.

“This is enough.” He replied.

His stony response had you looking nonplussed, eyebrows raised at the blatant lie.

“You’re still big enough to flatten a good ten city blocks, babe.” Another sigh left your lips, ignorant of Satan’s mounting agitation. “And I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for erotic trampling tonight.”

“Unless you’re going with this size so that… it can look smaller?”

The behemoth Sin lunged forward with a bullish snort, full of wrath as he bore sharp teeth twice your size at you.

“You say I’m the one making things difficult but it’s you who is never satisfied!” He roared, blowing back your hair with his hot breath.

The expression on your face didn’t change. Satan huffed and puffed while you waited patiently before exhaling:

“You good?”

Another horse’s whinny, paired with the grating sound of his teeth grinding together sounded before Satan quietly took a couple of deep breaths. You paused before changing tactics, sitting up and shifting onto your knees so that you could crawl over to the face of your darling.

You reached out to him with a gentle hand, palm cool and reassuring over his molten scales. With ease and tenderness, you stroked a line down his tapered snout, adding your other hand before you leaned in to nuzzle him with your entire face.

“I just wanna feel you, Satan.” You admitted, adoration pouring through your every word. “I wanna feel your body on mine. I want you to hold me in your arms and kiss me until I’m breathless.”

The draconian Sin’s pinpointed pupils crossed to peer down at you when you kissed his snout.

“I wanna feel your heat inside me,” You murmured. “When we make love.”

The full-body shudder that followed from your lover echoed through your much smaller frame before Satan nudged you back onto the bed. You brushed aside the curtain of your hair in time to see him slowly shrink down. He was still a great deal larger than you, able to overpower you with his brute strength alone. And his quadra-horns only added to that height —

You grinned as a flush ran through you when he moved to join your bed. He climbed over you, the bed springs groaning — but not breaking — beneath his weight as he caged you in with his thick biceps and broad shoulders.

“Brat.” He rumbled, rubbing his crotch against yours as he breathed into your parted mouth. “I’d never let anyone get away with your impudent requests. But I guess you’ll have to learn that the hard way.”

You could hardly reign in your moan as you heard his buckle being undone. As a distraction, your hands came up to rest against his pectorals, gliding over the thin yet silky maroon material reverently.

“Can’t promise I won’t enjoy the punishment, Your Honor.”

[enbyenvy666]

i just can't

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

based on something i discovered about myself recently 🤭

CONTENT WARNINGS - 18+ MDNI, gn!reader x various, vibrator, reader takes medication (brief implication of poor mental health), reader has trouble coming, no beta we die like men w/c - 0.4k

“I told you, I can’t cum.”

It felt like it was the umpteenth you had to repeat yourself. You loved your partner, you truly did, and you knew he was coming from a good place when he asked you if you finished. He just wanted you to feel as good as you made him, but you couldn’t through no fault of your own. It was a medication you had taken for years, one of the side effects being the inability to orgasm. Sure, it was frustrating at times but it was a necessary evil in exchange for better mental health.

“Are you sure?” He would ask again, already reaching down to touch between your thighs. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you would always respond, silencing his next argument with a kiss. “You still made me feel amazing baby.”

It was always sweet of him to try, you had rubbed yourself raw many times before, but it was all in vain. That was until he came home and proudly presented a vibrator. It was shaped like a long bullet and hot pink in colour, by twisting the bottom of it the vibrations became stronger, and despite its simplistic design, the way it strongly buzzed in your hand had you impressed. 

Eager to use it, he quickly had you on the bed, naked and moaning. The stretch of his cock had a familiar feeling burning inside you, but you never wanted him to stop. He almost got lost in the moment, fucking into your tight hole and savouring your sweet whimpers made him forget his goal. On the lowest setting, he ran the vibrator over your nipples, giving you a taste of what was to come—down your belly and between your thighs, touching it to every sensitive spot on your sex.

Every jolt of pleasure the toy sent through you had your back arching, tightening around his fat cock still thrusting inside your slick hole. Feeling you squeeze him particularly tight, he held the vibrator on that bundle of nerves that had you breathless, nails clawing down his back. Before you even realised what had happened, you were crying his name as your body tensed and legs shook, feeling as if something in your core snapped and released, your body now sticky with your cum.

His hips stilled, still balls deep inside your guts, and drew the vibrator away, staring down at you with wide eyes. Your eyes were equally as wide, panting to catch your breath. His lips stretched into a smirk, keeping his eyes locked with yours and he turned the vibrator up, bringing it back between your legs. 

It was time to make up for all those years. 

𓍊𓋼𓆏𓋼𓍊 Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Izuku Midoriya, Dabi, Hawks, Shota Aizawa, Shoto Todoroki, Lucifer (OM), Satan (OM), Mammon (OM), Solomon (OM), Diavolo (OM), Lucifer Morningstar (HH), Asmodeus (HB)

[nixie-writes]

Daughter of the Seven Deadly Sins

Lucifer

being the youngest of the Morningstar family was not easy. Your father, your current caretaker, was always holed up in his quarters, playing with toy ducks. He was a shell of his former self.

as his remaining daughter, you were treated like royalty, seeing as you were royalty. You had butlers, you had servants, you had the whole nine yards. However, you missed your older sister, Charlie. Your father hadn't even bothered to give you her number.

from a very young age you were coddled. You got everything you wanted, all of Hell was yours for the asking. One day Lucifer was strolling through Lu Lu World and he spotted the biggest duck plushie he'd ever seen as a prize for winning the hardest level of the game. Instead of actually playing though, he smacked some money on the table and motioned to the duck plushie and the clerk gave it to him. He knew it would be a wonderful birthday present.

life around the Morningstar manor was quite enjoyable. You got everything you wanted, you had servants and bodyguards watch your every move, it was the closest to Heaven you'd ever be.

Asmodeus

you were adopted as a baby by Oz and Fizz, and they adored you from the start. They bought you educational toys, stuffies, anything a beautiful baby girl could need.

as you grew older, you became more independent and Fizz feared you would go on a rebellious streak. Oz wasn't worried though, he knew how to put you in your place with a steady hand and proper punishment.

so the night you snuck out to one of Bee's parties and didn't come home until 3 in the morning, Oz banned you from Sinstagram and all other social media for a month, as well as a two month grounding from leaving the house to go anywhere. You thought it was unfair, and that showed Asmodeus that he was taking good care of you.

Beelzebub

your mother called you her wild card for a reason. You stayed out late, you hung out with boys you didn't know, you were a handful. Because Bee was the most unfit parent given her Sin, she got help from other demons.

Satan taught you respect, Belphegor taught you patience, etc. The other sins helped raise you, while giving Bee the room she needed to show herself as an active mother in your life.

don't worry, Vortex wasn't left out of the picture. He was much more stern to you than Bee was. He was willing to punish you, he didn't care about whatever tantrum you threw. But you loved him, he was strong and steady and had a firm hand in guiding you in the right direction.

Belphegor

Bel is usually just nodding off, either from her narcolepsy or because she was coming down off something. So you essentially did whatever the hell you wanted.

you lived a carefree life. You hung out with the wrong crowds, did the wrong things, etc. Like your mother you experimented with party drugs but you passed out and woke up in an empty parlor room. This was when you learned that drugs may be a bad idea.

it took a hard lesson to straighten you out. You snaked your way up to Satan late one night and tried to seduce him. Being an adult you could do that sort of thing. Instead of laying it on you he used his fear factor to shake out a little of your hubris. Sort of like the show Scared Straight.

Leviathan

like your mother, you were a two headed being. As such, you were the most popular kid in high school. Everyone wanted to be your friend, the nerds were helping with your homework and schoolwork, etc. However, you were the sort of girl to only hang out with the other Sins' daughters.

your mother always taught you to walk with purpose, how to have the girls begging for tips to be more like you, how to have boys clawing each other to get a chance to ask you out, though the answer was usually, if not always, a resounding no.

you were one of the most behaved daughters. No one had to worry about you coming home on time or who you were hanging out with. You were the model child, and the other daughters were, well, envious of this.

Mammon

you kept his accent but not much else. Mammon is a money hungry, gorging, sadistic asshole who expects his employees to be the commercial brand of fuckable. You were glad Glitz and Glam replaced Fizzarolli, he didn't seem happy doing the clown business anymore.

you were old enough to fend for yourself so he sent you off on your own. His robot Fizzarollies had practically raised you in his stead, so you had no issue making distance between yourself and him.

you had the top independent streak of the daughters. The others, both younger and older, looked up to you in respect for your lack of a father figure, and some wanted you to help them become independent like you.

Satan

you were a daddy's girl for sure. At only a human age of 6, you were innocent and sweet, the exact opposite of Satan. Despite that, he rocked a "#1 Dad" shirt when he had you with him in public. He didn't want any sick deviant thinking they could steal away with you and survive.

the other Sins and their daughters adored you, and how kind and sweet you are. Satan's therapist suggested he take a lesson from you and try to be more sweet, but it just wasn't in his blood. He was a Sin for God's sake, and he was the law, he couldn't coddle those who broke demon law.

regardless of that, he coddled you and made you sweeter than blueberry pie. You had horns like his but those of a female imp, of which he adored. He'd often hold your hand or carry you places. He was very protective of you and if you so much as tripped and scraped your knee he'd be screaming for paramedics.

though he knew you would develop a rebellious streak when you got older, he trusted that he raised you well enough to know what you should and shouldn't do, and he could only hope the best for you.

[mygoldtears]

[voxslays]

SATAN’S S/O HEADCANNONS

Satan with a sinner S/O!? Crazy right…? Not really. He would totally have you in the court room helping him relax, all the while he is casually sentencing a poor random imp to death for the smallest crime. Yeah…you’ve got to work on that.

Bodyguards? What are those? Unless you aren’t with your dragon boyfriend (in which case he will likely either hire a highly trained team of the best assassins in wrath to protect you from any idiots with a death wish, who will face his wrath…ha-!), He can protect you. He is a gym bro afterall.

Is definitely softer with you than most people. When he is throwing a raging tantrum, who is there to calm him down? Yogirt You of course! Will also totally show you off to the other sins, especially Lucifer. “Lillith can do this? Well MY S/O CAN DO THIS!”

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Throwing oil on the fire

Warning ⚠️; blood, mention of death sentence, huge spoilers for Helluva Boss

Pairing; Satan/Prince!Male!Reader, Stolas & Prince!Male!Reader (Brothers)

Summary; As if the trial wasn't going badly enough, more oil is about to be thrown on the fire when it is revealed that Blitzø wounded you as well. You who weren't just a prince, but Satan’s boyfriend. Now Satan is even more angry.

~~~~~~

You stared at the screen, your eyes not leaving that damned little imp. You would recognize the worm anywhere even after so many years had passed. You won't forget the pain, the betrayal that he had caused you. Your talons sank into the leather of the chair and ripped it off when Blitzø denied stealing the grimoire, calling it a book.

A book.

It was so much more than that. It was the reason you were thrown out of your own home and forgotten by your father. Because it wasn't the first time Blitzø had went after a Goetia’s grimoire, you knew because he once stole yours. Well, Stolas gave it to him.

You could still remember pleading to your father that you hadn't lost it, how it had been stolen. But Stolas had defended that damned imp over you, his brother, his blood. Everyone thought of you as a liar when you were not.

Then Stolas had dared give you back your book once your father had kicked you out of the house and sent you away.

How many nights had you cried and written to your father, trying to convince him you were telling the truth? But he never wrote back and to this day you never saw him again. You had cursed Stolas’ name, wished the worst of faith on him and laughed when you learned he was betrothed to a girl and tasked with having an heir.

For the first time, it had felt like justice, like maybe your father had finally believed you and was punishing him.

Stolas had tried keeping in contact with you, but you always burned his letters and never read them. Even when he dared show up at your place you would send him away, not once allowing him in. Stolas never understood, never realized he had lost you by choosing the imp.

He wasn't your brother anymore.

Just a traitor.

Sitting in the living room of your shared mansion, you looked at Satan on the screen. You saw Andrealphus appear and gesticulate as always. You never liked him or Stella, but until now you three had formed a good team to ruin and hurt Stolas. You were thankful for their discretion even tho they had no choices.

A single wrong step and you would kill them both.

You groaned when you saw Andrealphus calling upon Striker as a witness and rolled your eyes. How much money did the hitman cost this time? You preferred not think about it.

Fire erupted in your veins as you saw your brother appear on the screen. You hissed as he prevented Blitzø’s execution, protecting the imp as always, not caring about the consequences. It was too much, you couldn't take it any longer.

Some would call you over dramatic and others would say you were just like your boyfriend, but you didn't care. Cloaked in shadow and fire you made your apparition in the courtroom. You heard gasps and whispers when the fire disappeared and the shadows rolled off you.

The pendant of your necklace swung from left to right before resting flat against your chest, showing Satan’s sigil. You replaced your elegant clothes and chased away the ashes left by your apparition.

You locked eyes with Stolas. Shock and surprise twisted his face and you snared in disgust. Behind you, Satan leaned down, his hand taking yours and his thumb brushed your knuckles.

- “My devious cataclysm, what are you doing here?” He asked in a hushed whisper.

- “Why, my dear? I came to testify against the criminal imp and my brother.” You said, turning your gaze toward Satan as more gasps filled the room. “Do you remember when I told you about the imp that stole my grimoire when I was a child?”

- “Don’t tell me…” Satan growled, his eyes filling with rage as he stared at Stolas and Blitzø.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see your brother and Blitzø. The first looked heartbroken as if finally understanding the depth of your hatred for him. Never would you forgive his betrayal, his actions as he never saw shat he did wrong nor did he ever give you any form of excuse. Just acted as if nothing had happened.

The Imp seemed shocked, now recognizing you. It had been years but your feathers were still the same colour and so were your eyes. Besides, he hadn't stolen the grimoire of many princes; just you and Stolas. While he had avoided justice back then, Blitzø would have to face it now.

Satan growled, low as it rumbled his chest and he squeezed your hand. His burning breath tickled your feathers and you raised your free hand, stroking his muzzle with the back of your fingers. No words are needed but a simple touch for the Sin to calm down.

The room fell silent after that.

You turned your head, facing Stolas. You could see the pain and tears in his eyes, his hands slightly raised as if he were about to walk up to you. Pathetic.

- “Y/N… what…” Stolas began but you snarled, cutting him.

- “Did you believe I would allow you to play the same trick twice? You threw me under the bus once and it cost me everything and now you are once again coming to the defence of that imp?” You raised your voice, stepping forward, hand sliding out of Satan’s before you pointed your index toward Stolas. “Fool us once, shame on you; fool us twice, shame on us”

- “I… I never… Y/N, please! You don't...” Stolas begged, also stepping forward.

- “Enough Stolas!” You snapped, your powers swirling around you as the flames from the candles burned higher. “You are nothing but a shame! How can you stand there and still protect him? Have you learned nothing? He doesn't care about you, never did and never will! He was always just after our grimoires and money and you've been stupid enough to give it to him willingly.”

The ground shook under you as Satan stood. A shiver ran down your spine, but not of fear, as his shadow fell upon you. You heard his wings flap and his tail clack in the air like a whip before he walked, each step leaving a crater on the floor.

Everyone but you held their breath and you just crossed your arms. Stolas’ gaze left you and turned to your boyfriend. You could feel his anger filling the room, a single wrong word and he would explode in a fury. You expected it.

Hoped for it.

Maybe then Satan would tear apart Blitzø, torture him and gift you his severed head while your brother cried for his fucktoy. But no, it was too good, a daydream and not the reality. You still enjoyed the smell of fear coming from Stolas and Blitzø, a smirk on your lips.

It was good to be the winner for once. To watch Stolas be in your place, with no one listening to him.

Satan looked down at you, his golden eyes softening for a second.

- “Sit down at my place my fallen angel. We will hear your full testimony in a minute.” Satan said and turned his attention back to the couple.

You did as asked all eyes following you. The bottom of your cloak slid on the ground and then wrapped around you as you took place on his giant chair. Asmodeus and Bee looked at you and you could tell they were still in shock. While your relationship with Satan wasn't a secret, you were still more discreet than them and it was less scandalous.

You understood why they took Blitzø’s defence, themselves sleeping with the lowest class of Hell. They just needed to see the bigger picture here. It wasn't about a prince and an imp having a relationship, but the fact an imp was using a prince to do as he pleased and avoiding the consequences.

It wasn't about love. It was about making an example, showing that no matter what the law still applied to him regardless of his bond with Stolas. As for your brother… it was the same. He might be a Prince, but he wasn't above the law or repercussions for his acts.

Andrealphus had been awfully quiet, his gaze rarely leaving you. After all, you knew he had his talons on the attempt on Stolas’ life just like his sister and the proof that came with it since you had given him some help. But you didn't care about his fears as long as he didn't get in your way and did as you wished, you wouldn't reveal anything in court.

You would just have liked for him to keep you in touch about this plan of his, for now, you were in the dark.

Satan stopped walking and leaned down his face inches from Stolas and Blitzø. His yellow eyes judged them and you knew it without needing to see it. You knew the Sin better than anyone else after all. Just like you knew he was deciding the next steps. Hearing you alone then judge or having a full-on trial, which would last maybe for days.

- “I don't see why such an old event would have its place in this trial.” Asmodeus said, after looking at his phone. “It has nothing to do with the current events.”

- “It does since it will show a pattern.” You replied, crossing your legs before looking at the Sin of Lust. “Maybe we should invite your partner, that little imp of yours grew up with that Blitzø after all. Maybe he could bring some light onto his actions?”

You smirked as you saw a vast range of emotions play on Asmodeus’ face. He hadn't expected you to bring on Fizzarolli, but why not? If he wanted to defend Blitzø then his partner should be involved since he was the one knowing the accused.

- “Ah, but we can't be angry at him for not wanting to defend the one who caused him so much pain, right? I hope his burns doesn't hurt him anymore.” You added, tilting your head almost innocently.

Asmodeus frowned upon hearing you and Beelzebub looked at him worried. Mammon was laughing as if you had just delivered the joke of the century, his fat finger pointing mockingly at Asmodeus. It was a dangerous game you were playing with the Sins, but you couldn't let Asmodeus get away with helping Blitzø. Of all the imps and hounds of Hell, that damn criminal was the least deserving of his help.

- “He got you there!” Mammon said snickering.

But your conversation had caught Satan’s attention and now your boyfriend looked at you. His yellow eyes passed from you to Asmodeus then back at you. No words left your lips and you let him understand by himself.

Finally, Satan looked back at Blitzø and your brother, his decision made.

- “We will go on with listening to all the testimony may they be in your defence or against you. As for you Prince Stolas, you shall be judged as well following your wishes.” Satan said, straightening his back. “And I mean every testimony from as far as I see needed. Asmodeus, make sure your plaything comes. I want to hear him testify.”

- “W-what?” Asmodeus stuttered.

- “Seriously?” You asked as stunned as the Sin of Lust.

- “Oh that's hilarious!” Mammon chuckled, holding his stomach as he began laughing hysterically again.

Satan looked at you, raising an eyebrow, wondering why you acted like that. He was offering you your greatest revenge after all; humiliating your brother and prolonging the suffering of the imp that caused you so much pain.

And you were thankful to him.

- “H-hey wait a second here. Fizz’s got nothing to do with my business!” Blitzø finally spoke, gesticulating to catch Satan’s attention. “Leave him out of it.”

- “Fool, you think you have a said? Don't make us laugh.” Satan told him with a snarl as he leaned down, slamming his hands on each side of the accused. “You are both lucky we are not condemning you this second or I’ll tear off your heads with my own hands.”

A soft smile found its way on your lips as you took your pendant between your fingers. It felt so good seeing Satan stand for you and be angry on your behalf. You knew he wanted nothing more than to shred those two apart and give you their still-warm heart.

You wouldn't be against it.

But the trial had to keep going, there were procedures to follow after all. Of course, they could go straight up to condemnation, but now your brother was involved. They couldn't just execute a Prince.

What a shame.

Then, Satan called you to testify and you did. You did not forget a single detail, retelling every instance you encountered Blitzø and every object he stole from your family. You could feel Stolas staring at you, but he said nothing as he had been made quiet by Satan.

The tribunal stayed quiet when you explained how Blitzø stole your grimoire by passing by Stolas, how you were punished by your father for something you didn't do. You were lucky to be alive, in a way. Paimon wasn't keen on forgiveness after all.

And then you spoke about your failure of a brother. You weren't nice, not for a second. You pointed out how he never wanted to follow the rules or accept that being a Prince came with expectations and duties. Duties that he avoided as much as he could or did not care about.

You pointed out it wasn't the first time he came to the imp’s rescue without thinking about the repercussions. Without caring about how it would affect the people around him. The more you spoke, the more Stolas looked sad and heartbroken, but the courtroom stayed eerily quiet.

You locked eyes with Satan, your boyfriend’s eyes softening as he knew how painful those memories were. You had no one except for him. Satan was your greatest support and comfort just like you were his. You helped him rule his Ring, gave him ideas and took care of the papers and everything he hated or didn't care about.

You formed a terrifying team too.

After your testimony, you stayed by Satan’s side as more witnesses were called. Some tried to help Stolas and Blitzø but to no avail. No matter how much good the imp did, his terrible actions outnumbered them.

Finally, lunchtime came. You sighed in relief as Satan took you out of the courtroom to a more private place. Wine and fine cuisine awaited you already and you gulped your cup in one go. Your boyfriend chuckled and poured you more knowing you needed it.

Satan as shrinked to a more normal size before sitting by your side. He didn't bring the trial up but you knew he wanted too. Half way through your meal, you sighed and leaned back in your chair.

- “Speak your mind, my love. I know you have a lot on it.” You said, turning your attention on Satan.

- “What… do you expect from this trial?” Satan asked, putting down his fork and looking at you.

The question took you by surprise and you blinked, taking a minute to think about it. What did you expect? Pain and suffering for the little fucker who ruined your life, an eternal heartbreak for your treator of a brother…

Maybe closure, maybe finally seeing Stolas realize just how much pain he out you in.

A sorry. A true apology would be good.

You closed your eyes and sighed, passing a hand on your face.

- “Honestly I would love for you to give me that imp’s head on a silver plate. I guess it's too much asking?” you asked, barely opening your eyes.

- “Yes. As of now, a bit too much.” Satan admitted, leaning down and taking your hand in his. “But I can make sure to give them the worst punishment I can.”

You nodded, thumb tracing circles on Satan’s hand absently. You knew he couldn't go over the law for you or kill a Goetia’s prince without reason. While the testimonies were all against Blitzø, there wasn't enough for Stolas. At best Blitzø would be put down like the mad dog he was and your brother would be stripped of his titles.

Then, it clicked. A bright idea came into your mind, cruel and heartless. Satan saw it and giggled, kissing your cheek.

- “Your turn to speak your mind.” He whispered.

- “What about… what about stripping Stolas of his powers and titles and only giving them back once he kills either that lover of his or that imp’s partners.” you said and saw a smirk appear on Satan’s lips.

- “You are so cruel, my devious love.” He praised and kissed your cheek again.

In the end, it wasn't possible for Stolas’ crimes weren't enough to justify it, but Satan was able to still strip him of his powers and titles even if it was only for a hundred years. It felt like a slap on the wrist and it was, but it was better than nothing.

You enjoyed his walk of shame as his own people turned against him and how he looked broken, learning he had also lost his daughter. You knew Octavia would be safe with her mother and uncle, but also knew how Stella was. You didn’t blind yourself; she would do everything to turn her daughter against her father and you would do nothing but watch.

You had lost your father because of Stolas, so now you were making sure he would lose his daughter.

You still grieved all that could have been had he not betrayed you, but it had been done and there was no going back.

That night, Satan gave you more attention than usual, going so far as to cancel any meeting he had for the next days. He knew how hard it had been for you to face your brother and his lover, knew you weren't fully satisfied with the sentence and he wanted to be there for you just like you had been for him.

And as you melted in Satan’s arms, enjoying whatever film he had put on the TV, you realized that you had always been the winner. You had a loving and supportive lover, unlike Stolas, had built your own support system and family while your brother had no one.

You smiled as you realized all that, nuzzling yourself more against Satan and knew your future was brighter than ever.

[shapard]

Tantrum🕷️

Satan x Succubus!fem!reader

Tw: Smut, slow burn, therapist x client, Satan being Satan to the low life, p in v

6k

Satan is so Hot

Part 1 > Part 2

The story begins after the cut

You exhaled slowly, your breath shaky as your eyes scanned the list of today's clients. One name stood out like a drop of blood on pristine parchment: Satan. Yes, the Satan. You’d laughed when the receptionist first told you. Surely, it was some dark joke, right? But the chilling sincerity in her eyes told you otherwise. For the next month, the King of Wrath himself would be your client. His personal therapist—or "anger coach," as they called it—was conveniently on vacation, leaving the responsibility to you.

Your fingers hovered over the file, tapping lightly on the thick paper. His profile was sparse yet enough to send a chill down your spine. Anger issues. As if that needed to be stated. Brutal, cruel, unpredictable. Lies often. Has a dangerously short temper. And the last line, hastily scrawled like a warning, stood out the most: Approach with caution.

The note on your pad detailed when and where you were to meet him: Satan’s castle. Even the thought of it made your stomach churn. The clock on your desk screeched, breaking your trance. It was time.

Your palms were clammy as you left your room, dread curling around your spine. The limousine waiting outside was overkill, with its glossy black finish and an interior too luxurious for comfort. You sank into the seat, but even its plush softness couldn’t ease the knot tightening in your chest. Your fingers toyed nervously with the fabric of your shirt. "Why am I doing this to myself?" you muttered, your voice a hoarse whisper.

The drive stretched on, the limousine cutting through a landscape that seemed to grow darker, more twisted with every passing mile. Gnarled trees loomed like skeletal hands, their shadows dancing over the cracked road. The closer you got to his estate, the more oppressive the air became, thick with heat and a faint metallic tang that clung to your throat. When the car finally stopped, your breath hitched.

The castle loomed above you like a blackened wound carved into the earth itself. Jagged spires clawed at the sky, and the air was heavy with the faint stench of sulfur. The gates creaked open, revealing a procession of imps scurrying about with feverish purpose. Their glowing eyes briefly landed on you before darting away, like vermin avoiding a predator.

You swallowed hard, stepping out of the limousine. The ground beneath your sneakers radiated an uncomfortable heat, as if the very earth resented your presence. You hesitated, looking up at the fortress before you. Every instinct screamed for you to run. But you were a therapist—for Lucifer’s sake, you’d dealt with impossible clients before. Just not ones who could incinerate you with a single breath.

A small, hunched imp dressed in a tattered butler’s uniform approached, its head bowed. Without a word, it gestured for you to follow. You obliged, your legs moving stiffly as if weighed down by chains. The castle’s interior was worse. Shadows seemed alive, twisting and curling around corners like smoke. The halls were cavernous and eerily silent, save for the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor.

You were led through corridors that gleamed with wealth. Gold littered every surface, accompanied by piles of glittering jewels—rubies, diamonds, and sapphires, carelessly heaped as if they were nothing more than pocket change. It was suffocating in its opulence, but it was the odd details that unsettled you. A scorch mark on the wall, as if something—or someone—had been obliterated there. Deep claw marks gouged into the stone.

When you entered his chamber, the atmosphere shifted entirely. Heat rolled over you in waves, and the room smelled faintly of ash. Your eyes roamed over the space, catching glimpses of heavy iron chains, monstrous workout equipment, and a hulking throne that seemed carved from molten rock. And then, your gaze rose.

He was there.

The dragon loomed in the far corner, a creature of pure, terrifying majesty. His scales shimmered like molten obsidian, and his horns, wickedly curved and sharp, glinted faintly in the dim light. His golden eyes burned like twin suns, locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His chest rose and fell with a deep, growling breath that reverberated through the floor.

"So," he rumbled, his voice a deep, guttural drawl that made the air vibrate. "You’re the replacement.”

You froze, your body rigid as his gaze raked over you. His tone dripped with disdain, his lips curling into something between a snarl and a smirk. You felt like a mouse under the eye of a serpent.

“A succubus?” he sneered, the word laced with contempt. His massive frame shifted as he lowered his head, bringing his razor-sharp teeth dangerously close to your trembling form. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their molten depths. “For a succubus, you look... innocent.”

You flinched as his claw moved, its sharp tip hooking under the edge of your buttoned shirt. With terrifying ease, he pulled you closer, the heat radiating from him suffocating.

“Sir,” you managed, your voice wavering as you fought to hold your ground, “this is… inappropriate.”

The dragon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Inappropriate?” he repeated, his tone mockingly sweet. “Oh, little one, we’re far beyond ‘appropriate’ here.”

For a moment, the tension was unbearable, his golden gaze locking onto yours, unyielding and searing. Then, with a huff, he released you, his massive claw retracting as he settled back.

“Let’s see how long you last,” he muttered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “They always break, you know.”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow as you took a hesitant step back. This wasn’t going to be like any other client you’d dealt with. And as his gaze lingered on you, predatory and calculating, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into a game you didn’t fully understand—a game where the rules were written in blood.

“Let’s start with something simple—an introduction.” You tried to project confidence, raising your voice slightly to ensure he could hear you clearly. The weight of his molten gaze bore down on you, but you kept your posture straight. “Before we can trust each other, we need to know each other.”

Your words hung in the air, daring to challenge the suffocating silence. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his reptilian features. You forced a smile and continued, your voice steady despite the thrum of fear in your chest. “My name is Y/n L/n. I’ll be your therapist for the time being. In my spare time, I enjoy drawing. Now, would you care to introduce yourself?”

The room seemed to grow hotter. A deep huff escaped from Satan’s nostrils, the force of his breath stirring the papers on your clipboard. His head tilted ever so slightly, as though studying you from a new angle. “You know who I am.” His words were low and blunt, carrying the faintest edge of impatience.

You kept your expression neutral, though your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Of course, I know. But I’d like to hear it from you.” Your tone was calm, measured, even as the edges of his form seemed to ripple with heat.

That caught him off guard. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, his eyes lost some of their predatory sharpness. His breathing, which had been fiery and erratic, grew slower, more controlled. “I am Satan,” he said at last, his voice still low but tinged with pride. “The Sin of Wrath. The first sin.”

You didn’t flinch, though the words carried a weight that pressed against you. Liar. The truth was well-known—Lucifer was the first. But you kept that observation to yourself, instead lowering your gaze to jot something down on your notepad.

The scratch of your pen seemed deafening in the charged silence.

“What are you writing?” His tone was sharper now, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. You glanced up cautiously, noting the slight flare of his nostrils and the way his claws flexed against the stone floor.

“It’s nothing important,” you assured him, your voice soft but deliberate. “Just a few notes for me. Is that okay?”

His eyes narrowed further, glowing faintly as if testing your words for deceit. After a tense moment, he leaned back, the massive muscles in his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah… I guess.”

You allowed yourself a small exhale, the pen trembling faintly in your grip as you made another note. “Thank you. So, tell me—what’s your favorite hobby?” you asked, keeping your tone light, almost conversational.

Satan blinked, clearly caught off guard again. “Hobby?” he repeated, as if the concept were foreign to him. A pause stretched between you, and then he shrugged. “Uh… I like working out.”

Internally, you groaned. Great, you thought, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. A gym bro with anger issues. But outwardly, you smiled, though your fingers tightened slightly around your pen.

As you scribbled his answer, you felt a subtle shift in the air. His gaze hadn’t left you, and there was something unsettling about the way he watched you now—curious, calculating, like a predator studying its prey. The edges of his mouth twitched, as if he were amused by something only he understood.

“Do you always write so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little too casual.

You froze for half a second before looking up. “Only when it helps me understand my client better,” you said evenly.

Satan’s lip curled faintly, exposing a hint of razor-sharp teeth. “Interesting,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly. His massive frame seemed to loom larger, casting a shadow that swallowed the light around you. “You seem… different. For a therapist. For a succubus.”

The word dripped with disdain, but there was an odd curiosity in his tone as well. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t think I fit the usual mold,” you replied lightly, though the words felt thin against the heavy atmosphere.

Satan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “No, you don’t. But we’ll see how long that lasts.”

The way he said it felt more like a warning than a casual remark. And as the room grew unnervingly quiet again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just stepped into something far more dangerous than you were prepared for.

“Anyway,” you began, trying to dissipate the strange tension in the air, “what do you usually do to calm yourself?” Your voice was steady, professional, but you were acutely aware of the weight of his golden gaze lingering on you.

Satan tapped his claw against his chin, the sharp tip glinting faintly in the dim light. “I work out,” he said simply.

You nodded and placed your notepad down. “Have you ever tried anything else? Something less… physical?”

He shook his head, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “No.”

“Interesting.” Your pen hovered over the page, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Bingo. A potential breakthrough, something to work on next week. “Maybe you should try something new,” you suggested, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

Satan raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something new?”

You nodded, maintaining your professional tone. “Yes. There might be situations where you aren’t able to work out. Finding an alternative that brings you calm can help—something you enjoy that doesn’t rely on strength or exertion.”

You could see him thinking, his gaze becoming distant for a moment before snapping back to you. Then, he said it, blunt and unapologetic:

“Sex.”

Your pen slipped slightly, leaving a faint mark across your notepad as your head shot up to meet his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“Sex,” he repeated, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “I enjoy it. Specifically, I love to dominate. It brings me a sense of calm, of control.”

The heat in the room seemed to spike as his words hung in the air, heavy and electric. You felt your breath hitch slightly, your professionalism faltering under the weight of his admission. Your teeth caught your bottom lip, a subconscious reflex as your mind betrayed you with images you hadn’t invited.

Satan, towering over you, his claws dragging possessively over your skin. His deep growls vibrating against your neck as his body pressed you into the bed like prey. The way his molten gaze would devour every inch of you, a predator savoring its prize.

The thought was dangerous, forbidden—and utterly intoxicating.

“You’re quiet,” Satan observed, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He leaned forward, resting his massive claws on the table between you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sit straighter in your chair, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your inner turmoil. “Not at all,” you lied, your voice wavering slightly.

His smirk widened, the sharp tips of his teeth glinting faintly in the low light. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched again as he stood, the sheer size of him making the room feel smaller, more suffocating. He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, predatory. His shadow fell over you, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, velvety growl. “Have you ever let someone take control of you? Completely?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. His presence was overwhelming, his golden eyes boring into you with an intensity that felt like it could strip you bare.

“Let me guess,” he continued, his voice smooth and teasing. “You play the role of the confident therapist. Always in control, always composed. But I wonder…” He leaned closer, his claw tipping your chin up slightly. “What would happen if you let go? If you surrendered—for once?”

Your pulse raced as his words sent a shiver down your spine. The air between you was charged, thick with tension that felt ready to snap at any moment.

“I—” You barely managed to speak before his smirk deepened.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your body reacts to me.”

Your breath quickened, your mind a blur of conflicting thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen—this wasn’t professional. But the pull of his presence, the raw magnetism of him, was impossible to ignore.

As he leaned back, giving you a moment to catch your breath, his smirk softened into something darker, more sinister. “We’ll see how long you can resist,” he murmured, his voice like a promise—a challenge.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your notepad like it was a lifeline. Whatever line had just been crossed, there was no going back now. And the worst part? Some small, treacherous part of you didn’t want to.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, the ticking seconds echoing louder in your ears as you realized the session had come to an end. It felt like both a relief and a punishment. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Our time is up for today.”

Gripping your notepad tightly, you rose from your chair, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the inner conflict you fought to suppress. “I’ll see you next week?” you asked, your voice carefully measured, though the second heartbeat between your thighs throbbed mercilessly, reminding you of how thin the line was between professionalism and raw, unspoken desire.

Satan leaned back into his seat, his massive frame exuding power and ease as his ever-present smirk stretched across his face. “You’re quite interesting, you know that?” he said, his golden eyes glinting with something dark, something dangerous.

The way his words curled in the air, dripping with molten heat, sent a shiver down your spine. And then he said it—your name.

“See you next week, Y/n.”

The sound of your name, as it rolled off his tongue like a lazy threat, like a predator marking its prey, felt like fire licking at your skin. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the way he owned it, as if your name wasn’t yours anymore but his to use, to savor, to command.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you fought to maintain control of yourself. His gaze lingered on you, heavy and consuming, as if he could see every thought, every reaction you tried to bury. The room felt smaller, hotter, as if the very air bent to his will.

You took a deep breath, willing the flush creeping up your neck to subside, and bowed your head slightly—a courteous gesture, but also an excuse to break free of his burning gaze. “I’ll… take my leave now,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected, though your body betrayed you with every trembling step toward the door.

The silence stretched, but you could feel him watching you, his presence looming even as you turned your back to him. Each step felt heavier, your legs weaker, as if some invisible tether pulled you back to him.

“Y/n,” he called softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement. It was enough to stop you in your tracks, your hand hovering just above the door handle.

You turned slightly, not enough to meet his gaze but enough to let him know you were listening.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said, his smirk audible in his voice. “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t trust yourself to respond. With a hurried nod, you pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the hall as quickly as you could without outright running.

As the door closed behind you, the weight of his words lingered, wrapping around you like a vice. Each step away from his chamber only made the ache within you stronger, and the echo of his voice—dark, commanding, possessive—played on repeat in your mind.

When you finally reached the outside air, you exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady the wild beat of your heart. But no matter how much distance you put between you and him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still trapped—bound not by his hands, but by his voice, his gaze, his presence.

And the worst part? You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to escape.

______________________

Your mind drifted to Satan again, as it often did these days. His golden eyes, the low timbre of his voice, the weight of his presence—all of it lingered with you like an intoxicating haze. It was wrong to think of him this way, wasn’t it? You're the therapist. A being of ancient power. Yet his words from the last session whispered through your mind, sending a shiver down your spine: “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.” What did he mean? The thought left you breathless, your lip caught between your teeth as you tried to push the memory away.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to the mirror, pulling yourself together. Today was a new session, and you needed to remain professional. No room for fluttering thoughts or the heat that crept up your neck every time he said your name. After all, you had a job to do, and you’d prepared exercises meant to calm, not... whatever this was. You brushed out your hair, adjusted your outfit, and gave yourself one last look. You could do this.

The drive to his mansion felt longer than usual, the limousine’s quiet luxury giving your mind too much space to wander. By the time you arrived and stepped out, your palms were clammy despite the crisp air. You gathered your supplies—a palette, brushes, a canvas—and headed to the imposing doors. They opened with a creak, and there he was, standing tall, his figure sharper than usual in a tailored outfit that clung just enough to his form to make you notice. Was he doing this on purpose? The thought made your cheeks flush.

“Satan,” you greeted, keeping your voice steady as you stepped inside.

“Y/n,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto yours. He always said your name like it was a secret, something sacred.

You set your supplies down, the clinking of brushes breaking the charged silence. He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over the items with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with intrigue.

“Painting,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s something that can help channel emotions. I thought it might be worth trying with you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the flicker of interest in them was unmistakable. “You think this will calm me?”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, your tone light. “But first, I need you to… shrink a bit. Your current size might make it tricky.”

He arched a brow but complied without argument, his towering form diminishing to something more manageable. Even so, he still loomed over you, his presence filling the room in a way that made your breath catch.

You handed him one of your favorite brushes, your fingers grazing his. The brief contact sent a spark through you that you tried to ignore. “This one’s precious to me, so don’t break it,” you said with a teasing smile.

His golden eyes darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on you. “Why would you entrust me with something so valuable?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“Because I think you’ll manage,” you said simply, turning to demonstrate. The truth was, you trusted him in a way you couldn’t explain, and the weight of his gaze as you worked was almost palpable.

You dipped your brush into the paint, your movements fluid and purposeful as you applied color to the canvas. You explained the process, your voice calm, almost hypnotic, as you encouraged him to let his emotions guide him. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” you said, glancing at him. “Just let it flow.”

Satan watched you intently, his focus shifting between your hands and your face. There was something mesmerizing about the way you moved—graceful, confident, entirely at ease. He tried to mimic your strokes but grew frustrated when his didn’t have the same beauty. Fire flickered briefly at the corner of his mouth as his grip on the brush tightened.

“Take your time,” you said gently, your voice softening. “You’ll manage.”

Those words seemed to echo in his mind, silencing his frustration. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His golden eyes settled on you again, and this time, there was something softer in them—something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Pretty,” he murmured, the word so quiet you almost missed it.

You glanced up, assuming he meant his canvas. “It’s not bad for a first try,” you said, smiling.

But when your eyes met his, you realized he wasn’t looking at the canvas at all. He was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made heat rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you were lost in it.

“I… meant your canvas,” he said quickly, the faintest hint of a stammer in his voice. He turned away, focusing on his painting as if the moment hadn’t happened. “I suppose this isn’t for me,” he added, his tone returning to its usual steadiness.

You sighed softly, setting your brush down. “That’s okay. We’ll find something else to try next time.”

When it was time to leave, you gathered your supplies, his lingering gaze following you to the door. “Till next time, Y/n,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You smiled, bidding him goodbye before stepping into the limousine. As the car pulled away, you stared out the window, your reflection blushing faintly. “Cute,” you muttered under your breath, thinking of his fleeting shyness.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to think of him a little differently too.

As the limousine glided down the winding road back into the city, Y/n leaned their head against the cool glass of the window. The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow, but their mind was too preoccupied to notice. Their chest tightened as they replayed the day's moments, each interaction with Satan etched into their memory with vivid clarity.

His golden eyes watching them, the way his brows furrowed in frustration only to soften when he heard their encouragement, and that one unguarded word he’d uttered—“pretty.” Y/n sighed and closed their eyes, the image of his intense gaze surfacing unbidden. He had said it so quietly, yet it echoed in their ears, lingering like a secret between them.

Why am I letting this get to me? Y/n thought, shaking their head. Satan was their patient. A being to be studied and guided, not… admired. And yet, there was something about him—something magnetic and impossible to ignore. His raw power was undeniable, but beneath the towering presence and occasional flashes of anger, there was a vulnerability that Y/n couldn’t help but find fascinating.

When the mansion’s doors had first opened to reveal him, standing there like some otherworldly figure carved out of the very shadows of the underworld, Y/n had been struck by how human he seemed despite his demonic origins. He was capable of humor, of curiosity, and, at times, even shyness—like when he stammered over his compliment and turned away. That brief flash of awkwardness had been disarming, endearing even, and it left a warmth in Y/n’s chest that refused to fade.

_______________

The past few weeks had been a blur of trial and error as you and Satan searched for a way to calm his tempestuous nature. Every method—meditation, physical exercises, even music—had ended in failure. Yet, with every attempt, the two of you had grown closer. Comfort had crept in between the boundaries you’d initially set, a warmth that softened the edges of your professional relationship. Perhaps it was too much comfort.

Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair, tugging slightly as you let out a groan. “What’s left?” you muttered, mostly to yourself. You hated admitting defeat, but the lack of progress was wearing on you.

“Are you okay?” Satan’s deep voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. He leaned against the edge of his desk, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned your face. Concern lingered in his tone, though there was something else in his expression—something darker, more intent.

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your shoulders sagging. “Yeah, I’m just… out of ideas,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “Nothing seems to work. Maybe you were right all along—this isn’t going to change.”

A low growl escaped him, and he moved closer, the space between you shrinking with every step. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried,” he said, his voice a seductive rumble. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing along the curve of your neck with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine. The ruby necklace he’d given you weeks ago caught the light, glinting like a drop of blood between you.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I’m open,” you replied, though your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but the tension in the air was thick enough to drown in.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, and his eyes seemed to glow brighter. “Let me please you,” he said, the words both a question and a command.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His hand slid lower, taking yours in his. His touch was firm but surprisingly warm, and you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened. “For weeks, I’ve been thinking of you. Not just as a distraction from my anger, but as something—someone—I want to consume. Every thought I’ve had has been about how to lure you in, how to make you mine.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, your body tingling with the weight of his confession. He slipped a delicate, shining ring onto your finger, the smooth metal cold against your skin.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “I’m throbbing for you, aching to show you what it means to be claimed by me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. His clawed hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The first touch of his tongue against your neck made you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as he traced slow, burning lines along your skin.

“Satan…” His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as his claws found the waistband of your pants, the sharp tips grazing your skin without breaking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your throat, his voice raw with need. “Tell me you want it too.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if to ground yourself. That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours, the kiss rough and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. His sharp teeth grazed your lower lip, and the pain mingled with pleasure in a way that made your head spin. His hands roamed your body, one clawed hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip, holding you firmly in place.

You gasped as he tore open your shirt, the fabric giving way like paper under his strength. His golden eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, and the heat in his gaze made you shiver. “Perfect,” he growled, his lips descending to your collarbone as his claws worked your pants down, leaving you bare beneath his burning gaze.

He pressed his body against yours, his skin hot like fire but not unbearable. The sensation was intoxicating, his power and desire radiating off him in waves that left you trembling. His mouth found your chest, his tongue and teeth teasing sensitive skin until you were writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fought to keep some semblance of control.

But control was the last thing Satan allowed. “Let go,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl as his hand slipped between your thighs. His touch was rough but precise, drawing sounds from you that you’d never made before. He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, the heat of his body searing into your palms. His growls deepened as you touched him, and when you whispered his name again, it seemed to drive him over the edge.

He latched onto your nipple, his hot, eager tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as though it held the key to quenching a deep, unrelenting hunger. The heat of his mouth sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your back arching instinctively to press closer to him. Each flick and tug of his tongue was deliberate, rough yet skilled, and it drove you wild with every second.

Your hands found his horns, gripping tightly as a loud, unrestrained moan tore from your lips. The sensation of his horns beneath your fingers—solid, commanding, and so uniquely him—only heightened the intensity of the moment. He groaned in response, the vibration of it against your skin adding a tantalizing edge to the pleasure.

As you opened your mouth to say something—perhaps to beg, perhaps to curse his name—his massive hand moved swiftly, covering your mouth and silencing you with an almost possessive dominance. His palm was warm, his claws just barely grazing your jawline, a silent reminder of his power.

“Shh,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with desire and control. “No words. Just feel.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your muffled protests turning into needy whimpers against his hand. His golden eyes flicked up to meet yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race. He didn’t need to say more; the look alone spoke volumes. You’re mine, and I’m going to show you exactly what that means.

His free hand trailed down your side, the sharp edge of his claws leaving ghostly trails that tingled with a mix of anticipation and pleasure. He shifted slightly, his lips abandoning one nipple to lavish attention on the other, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you gasp against his palm.

“Such sweet sounds,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a deep, sinful growl that left you trembling. “I want to hear every single one.”

He claimed you fully then, his movements powerful and relentless as he pushed you to your limits and beyond. The roughness of his touch, the possessiveness in every kiss and thrust, sent you spiraling into a state of pure bliss. He was consuming, overwhelming, but it was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When it was over, you were both breathing heavily, your bodies tangled together on the floor. His claws traced lazy circles on your skin, the sharp tips surprisingly gentle now.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left no room for argument.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “Yours,” you whispered, and for the first time in weeks, you felt completely at peace.

“I need to take you fully,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint, though his burning gaze made it clear his control was hanging by a thread. His golden eyes bore into yours, aflame with desire and something deeper—possessiveness, perhaps, or the primal need to claim you completely. His hot breath fanned across your face, each exhale like a spark threatening to ignite you from within.

You swallowed hard, your body trembling beneath him as you nodded, unable to form words. He stood, towering over you even in his "smallest" form, and the sound of his belt buckle clicking open made your heart skip. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, his claws brushing lightly against his skin as he stroked himself. His movements were deliberate, slow, as he smeared the slick arousal you’d already left on him along his length. The sight of it was utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his voice a rumble of raw need. His eyes darted to your smaller frame beneath him, the contrast between your softness and his powerful figure making his jaw tighten. Your body trembled under his intense scrutiny, and the way you shuddered only seemed to spur him on.

“You’ll take all of me,” he promised darkly, his lips pulling into a feral smirk before he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he began to press in, the stretch almost overwhelming as he filled you inch by inch. The thickness of him made your breath hitch, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as your body struggled to accommodate him.

When he was fully seated inside you, he let out a guttural groan, his head falling forward as if savoring the way your body gripped him so tightly. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with awe and lust. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

He started to move, his thrusts deliberate and forceful, his pace building with every stroke. The wet, sinful sounds of your body meeting his filled the den, mingling with the guttural sounds he made as he lost himself in the rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his rough movements perfectly hitting every sensitive spot.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with pride as he watched your body arch beneath him, your moans spilling out freely. “Taking me so well—every inch of me.”

His hands gripped your hips tightly, claws digging in just enough to leave marks as he pulled you into each thrust. His pace quickened, his breathing harsh and uneven, a symphony of raw need that filled the space around you.

Your moans turned into cries of ecstasy as he pounded into you harder, the force of it making your head spin. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. He growled your name, the sound reverberating through the air as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice breaking slightly as he thrust even harder, his control finally snapping. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure and submission. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in him, his movements becoming even more relentless. His growls deepened, and the way he pounded into you left you utterly breathless. Every nerve in your body was aflame, and as you reached your peak, the intensity of it shattered you completely, your cries echoing through the den.

Moments later, he followed, his movements faltering as he let out a deep, primal groan. You felt him shudder above you, his body rigid as he spilled into you, marking you in a way that felt both physical and otherworldly.

For a moment, the only sounds were the two of you catching your breath, the heat of his body still pressed against yours. He leaned down, brushing a surprisingly tender kiss against your forehead, a stark contrast to the ferocity he’d shown moments before.

“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, almost as if reassuring himself.

And as you lay there in his arms, thoroughly claimed and utterly sated, you knew he was right. You were his. And you didn’t want it any other way.

Saw no one making shit about him so here I am your savior. Damn y'all.

💫

Masterlist

[dragonanon]

Shameless Satan x Reader headcanons because I am a whore- 😩

- As much as everyone would probably assume he’s into “meek wittle UwU princesses” he can dominate with ease, Satan in fact prefers a little spitfire who won’t hesitate to fight back

- You won’t just lay down and take his BS, and it’s part of what drew him to you to begin with. He was probably raging about some stupid shit in the courtroom, and you (probably a desk clerk or something there at the time) got sick of it and yelled back at him “Oh stfu you big red fucker!” And he was so taken aback that someone had the balls to yell back at him that he was left speechless and mildly aroused

- Calls you things like “little flame”, “spitfire”, “dove”, and his “treasure”

- Knows that the sheer size difference between you two flusters you to no end, and he’s a goddamn menace about it. Making short jokes, holding things out of reach, and randomly picking you up just so he can hear you squeak in surprise. Getting cursed out by you is worth it so long as he gets to see that precious look on your face

- Aside from Yogirt, you’re really the only one who can get Satan to calm down when he’s angry and you have a much easier time doing so than Yogirt does. All you have to do is scratch his chin and croon at him, and the big bastard just melts into your touch

- Purrs SO GODDAMN LOUD but insists that he doesn’t. The lying bastard, he sounds like a tractor engine on steroids. He gets SUPER pissy if anyone besides you comments on it

- SO fucking full of himself, mans REALLY thinks he’s above Lucifer and deserves to be regarded as such smh. Your love and affection only further strokes his overinflated ego, as does any compliments and praise you give him. Mf actually grows BIGGER in multiple ways lol the more his ego is stroked

- This man is a cowboy/rancher and I will take NO criticism because I’m right. He’s got THOUSANDS of cows, and lots of horses too

- When he’s not in the courtroom, he’s working on his ranch. Probably has hundreds, if not thousands, of Demons he employs as farm hands to help with all the work, but there are some things only he can do and TBH he likes the physical activity of the work and it’s a free show for you lol

- He gave you a little chicken coop so you can keep a little flock of chickens. You LOVE your chickens, and your personal fav is a tiny rooster you named “Marshmallow”, and he looks like a more demonic version of this lol

- Says he’s not jealous of Marshmallow, but he TOTALLY is. He gets all pouty and grumbly when you pick up the tiny rooster and coo over him, because dammit you should be cuddling and cooing over HIM! Not that stupid bird!

- Has a big, fancy, mansion on his ranch that he lives in with you. In true dragon fashion, he unironically sleeps on a mountain of gold and other treasures lol. How he doesn’t have back pain is a mystery, but you get to sleep on his tiddies so you have no complaints lol

- Runs SO fucking hot! You’ll never need to pay for heating again, let alone HAVE an actual heating system, because this mf puts out heat like an industrial incinerator. It’s FANTASTIC during the winter because he’s so warm you can just cozy up to him and be in bliss, but in the summer it’s fucking agony and you can’t escape it because he gets upsetti spaghetti if you don’t sleep and cuddle with him

- Would prefer you to NOT be in the courtroom with him. He says it’s because you distract him, but in reality it’s because he doesn’t want you to have to see him explode with rage and live up to his title as the embodiment of wrath. He actually tries REALLY hard to keep that part of himself away from you, because even though he’ll die before ever admitting it, a TINY part of him is terrified that he’ll end up hurting you during one of his outbursts

- If for some reason you HAVE to be there, he has a special little balcony set up for you that’s not only a safe distance away from any potential danger, but ALSO has a magic force field protecting it (that part is a secret tho because if you knew about it, you’d yell at him for thinking you’re weak enough to need protection lmfao)

- If anyone so much as blinks at you wrong, he beats the shit out of them. The ONLY reason he doesn’t kill them is because he knows you’ll yell at him like “Dammit Satan, again?! I can’t go anywhere with you!”

- Yogirt 100% uses his love for you to get him to chill. “I know you’re feeling some pretty big feelings right now, but think of (Y/N)~ She loves you and would be so sad to see you this angry~”

- It’s funny because he and Satan both know damn well that you wouldn’t be sad, rather you’d be yelling at him to knock that shit off lmao

- The entire courtroom once got to hear you sit him the fuck down because he got a little TOO spicy in the courtroom one day, and didn’t believe Yogirt he he not-so-subtly threatened to call you. Sure enough, he pulled out his phone and called you on speaker phone, and everyone got to spend 30 minutes listening to you rip this mf a new one while the mighty king of wrath sat there like a sad puppy and occasionally mumbling something like “I know…I’m sorry treasure, I’ll do better.” (No one is allowed to comment on it or else he’ll get VERY angry about it. Plenty of memes have been made about it tho much to his chagrin)

[the-s1lly-corner]

What they call you (Helluva edition 3/4)

i think i am going to limit this to four parts, cant think of who else you guys might wanna see UHUHUHUH yeah characters: ozzie, mammon, satan, beelzebub notes: no leviathan or belphagor due to them not really speaking much during the previous episode.... maybe one day...! reader is gn but alt names will be provided in the instance of any gendered names, youre in a polycule with ozzie and fizz, short post its literally nickname stuff cws: none

OZZIE

they call you: youre likely to get an animal based nickname like fizz- most definitely reflecting you in some way.... though... the idea of him calling you his firefly is cute! sometimes calls you a cutesey version of your name (be it shortened or he adds a y at the end.... or both...)

they like being called: hot stuff always gets a chuckle from him, regardless of if you have more... intimate tones... littered under your words!

MAMMON

they call you: munchkin! he seems like the type to call his lover his munchkin- maybe its the general way he talks but it sounds in character... dollface is another common name

they like being called: really he loves just about anything you call him, especially if it can be taken as a compliment- hes not all that picky with you so long as theres some thought

SATAN

they call you: doll, sweet thing/face... theres a certain drawl that comes out when hes referring to you. would also simply call you by your name

they like being called: would also be a hot stuff enjoyer, but if you really want to get his attention call him something cute and sweet- like dear or hon... its so simple and hes so ready to lose his temper on everyone else- but you give him pause. youre also the only one allowed to call him stuff like that

BEELZEBUB

they call you: sugar, sweetie/sweetheart/any rendition of the sweet names, babe, theres hardly just ONE name that she settles on for you! theres always a rotation of things she calls you!

they like being called: queen gets a laugh out of her, she is a queen- well... a sin... but its nice having it reinforced, even if youre simply using it as a term of endearment. honey pie/pot makes her heart swell

[msbug15]

UP TOP

SATAN X READER

TW: None

Inspiration: Hadestown

Reader is gender neutral

@xthechechix Here ya go!

Nobody's righteous. And obviously a hellborn isn't. But to have this punishment, cursed to live half a year in the mortal realm and not your own. It was torture.

Stripped of staying in your own realm. Stripped of your devilish form. Stripped of your powers. Stripped of everything.

Even if you have long since made up with your imprisonment, albeit begrudgingly. You cannot help but feel annoyed whenever the little mortal's mention their lovers, when you can't see yours for months on end.

Why must the Mortals get that happiness but you can't.

You couldn't help but bitterly laugh to yourself as you walked down the streets of the town you lived in.

Fate was cruel, that's why.

You still remember the day you were given this punishment. Being in chains. The eyes of the people. The sins. Your screams of worry. His reaction to your fate. It was like one of those human's worryingly sad works of fiction.

Just as you reached an alley leading you to your apartment. A red glowing portal opened before you. You recognised it, of course. "Satan..." You breathed. Finally, you get to go home.

You placed one foot in the darkness before it devoured you whole.

You stood tall in the never ending dark before closing your eyes and holding out your arms, humming a tune.

"Singing," you sang softly. "La, la, la, la."

Smoke came flowing down from Satan's nostrils as he sat impatiently on his throne. He let out a frustrated groan as he changed his position once again. "How fucking long can one portal take!" He yelled out of frustration, Yogirt slowly floated into his line of view.

"Satan, how about we take a few deep breaths, yeah?" The little demon slowly let out a few breaths in demonstration, "I'm sure there's a reason the portals are taking a little longer today, okay?"

Following his instructions Satan let out a few breaths as he deflated in his seat. "Right.." He murmured, clasping his hands together.

"La, la, la, la, la."

As soon as the sin of Wrath heard those lyrics a portal appeared. He immediately stood up and began to walk to the centre of the empty courtroom.

"Well, that was great timing!" Yogirt mumbled to himself. The rocky surface that is the floor, began to appear under Satan's feet as he walked over the lava.

He outstretched his hands wide as he closed his glowing eyes, before singing along. "La, la, la, la, la." He sung, standing in front of the portal and holding his hand out. Waiting, longing for you touch.

Lyric after lyric, your hand hand finally came out of the portal. His eyes opened and he quickly grabbed your hand. And little by little you finally came out of the portal.

The sin held you in his hands, a soft look in his eyes as he looked down at you. You gently placed your hands on his snout.

"You're early." You said softly, he leaned his head down and placed his forehead on yours.

"I missed ya."

Note: I hope you lot enjoyed this! I do apologise for it being short and if it's a bad. I'm still getting back into the flow of writing and I've never been that great at grammar, so once again I do apologise.

[inferno-0]

⌞ SATAN X READER ⌝ ── | Tranquillity |

Guys, I'm not turning him into a dog, I'm just giving him what he wants most...

➤ Satan's wrath was familiar to many of the inhabitants of hell, his roar and flames burning from all four eyes sent him straight into the very heat of fear, the victim of which could die without even feeling any blow from his side. This is, let's say, an influence that has been worked out for several hundred years. Even those who are already used to seeing and feeling this cannot keep themselves under control to create a mask of neutrality, they still bend their knees and shrink into themselves, just not to see this elongated muzzle full of sharp teeth. Satan is used to this kind of environment, and sometimes he can get really angry about it. It's just that not being able to control himself makes him turn into a monster even more. The lack of calm and all that, again, unsettles him.

➤ The warm air from his nostrils has already come out several times, enveloping you from all sides. He does this when he tries to calm down, closing his own mind full of devils, and just enjoy your being next to him. Satan feels your hand moving unwaveringly above your jaw, tracing various patterns on the scales, accidentally stopping at impassable joints. His massive muzzle was on your lap, pressing right against your stomach. The vibration echoed from his body as your fingers gently wrapped around his horns and returned to the same place again. Thick claws wrapped around your sides like a toy, pressing even closer. Yellow eyes watched your surprised sigh, waiting for some fear or sign of it, gradually understanding what exactly it should do in the end, but instead it gets a bright smile on your face and another gentle touch, from which it could possibly melt despite its structure full of magma.

➤ This moment only makes him enjoy and not let you go. Satan could never have imagined that his complex temper could actually descend with anyone other than Yoirt. Honestly, the Sin of Wrath is pleasantly surprised by this state of affairs and is unlikely to be able to let you go in the near future. The softness of your hand sends him straight to sleep, where it is even calmer and better than among the demons of hell. But he prefers to enjoy the moment with you and share the peace that you give him without wanting to get something in return. Your resilience in front of his character excites and makes him love even more, get used to your presence and just tie himself in a strong knot. Satan finally finds temporary rest. His silence was long and clear to you, as you knew that he absorbed all the moments with you, enjoying the caress.

[trashogram]

Maybe niche and appealing to just me, but imagine:

Satan is very much In Love with Reader•S/O but his love is almost innocent. He loves his S/O, sees them as beautiful and pure, the light of his infernal darkness — so it genuinely startles him when they wanna be intimate with him.

Example of a conversation between Reader and Satan on this topic ->

S/O: “Satan, I want to take this relationship to the next level.”

Satan while admiring them with a hooded and adoring gaze: “What’s that now?”

S/O, hands on their hips and chest puffed out: “I wanna fuck you.”

Satan: O _ O

“I beg your finest pardon?!”