Imagine Book 2

Wrath's Soothing Flame- Satan (Helluva Boss)

Fem Y/N

The Court of Wrath was empty, save for a few smouldering embers scattered across the obsidian floor. The chaos of the day had finally subsided, leaving behind the echo of wrathful judgment and a ruler whose temper burned hotter than Hell itself. Satan sat on his massive throne, towering and infernal, his four blazing eyes glaring at nothing in particular. His hands gripped the arms of his seat so tightly that the blackened metal groaned under the strain.

"Imps," he spat, his voice rumbling through the hall like a coming storm. "My creations! Stirring trouble! Testing my patience!"

The day's events still lingered in his mind—the trial of Blitzo and the interruptions that followed. Stolas taking the blame, the pleas of Asmodeus and Beelzebub—it all gnawed at him. He had wanted to deliver swift punishment, to remind the denizens of Hell who was truly in charge. Yet, here he was, frustrated, seething, and far from satisfied.

Y/N watched him from the shadows of the hall, her crimson tail flicking nervously. She was a succubus, curvaceous and radiant, her skin glowing faintly in the dim light of the court. Satan had won her from Asmodeus in a wager long ago, and ever since, she'd served as one of his maids. But she was no ordinary servant; she had a way of soothing the flames of wrath that constantly raged within her master.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She carried a tray with a tall bottle of moonshine and a plate piled high with barbecued meats. "Your Majesty," she said, her voice soft yet firm, "I thought you might need something to help you unwind."

Satan's blazing eyes flicked toward her, his expression still tense. For a moment, he said nothing, and Y/N wondered if she'd overstepped. But then he exhaled sharply, the heat in the air cooling slightly as he leaned back in his throne.

"Moonshine and barbecue?" he rumbled, a hint of amusement breaking through his fury. "You think mortal food and drink can calm the King of Wrath?"

Y/N smiled gently as she approached, setting the tray on a table beside his throne. "It's not just the food, my lord. It's the care that goes into it." She poured him a glass of moonshine and handed it to him, her fingers brushing against his clawed hand. "Sometimes, even the greatest flames need a little tending."

Satan regarded her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he took the glass, downing the fiery liquid in one gulp. He grabbed a piece of barbecue, tearing into it with a ferocity that matched his mood. Y/N stood silently by his side, her hands folded in front of her as she waited for the tension to ease.

But it didn't. If anything, Satan's anger seemed to simmer just beneath the surface, his claws tapping impatiently against the armrest of his throne. He finished the plate of food and set the glass down with a loud thud, his four eyes narrowing as he stared into the distance.

"Imps," he growled again. "Ungrateful, insubordinate imps. I gave them life, purpose, and what do they do? They defy me. Mock me. Disrespect the order of Hell."

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, her touch warm and soothing against his fiery skin. "My lord," she said softly, "your creations may falter, but they can never diminish the strength and wisdom of their creator."

Satan's eyes flicked toward her again, and this time, the fire within them seemed to waver. Y/N began to massage his shoulders, her delicate fingers kneading the tension from his massive frame. She felt the heat radiating from his body, the raw power barely contained within him, and yet she pressed on, her touch firm yet gentle.

"You carry so much," she murmured, her voice like a balm to his frayed temper. "The weight of Hell itself rests on your shoulders. But even the strongest need moments of reprieve."

A low growl escaped Satan's throat, but it wasn't one of anger. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, his rigid posture softening under Y/N's ministrations. Her fingers worked their way up his neck, tracing the lava-like veins that pulsed with molten energy. His wings twitched slightly, the flames along their edges dimming as his wrath cooled.

Y/N's heart pounded as she moved closer, her hands sliding down to rest on his broad chest. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, strong and unyielding, and it filled her with a strange sense of comfort. Gathering her courage, she climbed into his lap, her soft curves pressing against his muscular frame.

Satan's eyes widened slightly at her boldness, but he made no move to stop her. Instead, he rested his massive hands on her hips, his claws grazing her skin as he held her in place. Y/N cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his jaw.

"My king," she whispered, her voice trembling with both fear and desire. "Let me be your calm amidst the storm."

For a long moment, Satan said nothing. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a smirk, and the fire in his eyes softened into something warmer, something almost tender. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close until their foreheads touched.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and rumbling, "you have always been my favourite."

Her breath hitched as his words sank in, her cheeks flushing with heat. Before she could respond, Satan tilted her chin upward and captured her lips in a searing kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, yet there was a surprising gentleness to the way he held her, as if she were something precious.

Y/N melted into him, her fingers playing with his horns as she returned the kiss with equal fervour. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them locked in an embrace that felt both primal and deeply intimate. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads still pressed together.

Satan's four eyes bore into hers, his expression a mix of adoration and something far more primal. "Tonight," he said, his voice a low growl, "you will join me in my bedchambers."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her lips parting in surprise. But before she could respond, Satan scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he rose from his throne. His wings unfurled, their fiery glow illuminating the dark hall as he carried her toward the towering doors that led to his private quarters.

The journey to his bedchambers was a blur, the air crackling with anticipation as they ascended through the labyrinthine halls of Wrath's palace. When they finally arrived, Satan pushed open the massive doors with a flick of his hand, revealing a room that was both opulent and imposing. The bed at its centre was enormous, draped in dark silks and framed by carved obsidian pillars that seemed to pulse with an inner fire.

Satan set Y/N down gently, his hands lingering on her waist as he gazed at her. "You have a gift," he said, his voice softer now. "A way of calming the storm within me. And for that, you deserve more than mere gratitude."

Y/N reached up to cup his face again, her touch as light as a feather. "I only wish to serve you, my king," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

Satan's lips curved into a genuine smile, a rare sight that took her breath away. He leaned down, capturing her lips in another kiss, this one slower and more deliberate. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve as if committing her to memory. Y/N shivered under his touch, her own hands tracing the lines of his muscular chest and shoulders.

As the night unfolded, the flames of wrath were replaced by a different kind of fire—one born of passion and connection. Satan's usual arrogance and ferocity gave way to a tenderness that he reserved only for her, and Y/N found herself lost in the intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his touch, and the sound of his voice murmuring her name.

In that moment, Y/N realized that she had not only soothed the King of Wrath but had also ignited something deeper within him. And as they lay entwined beneath the silken sheets, she knew that she had found her place—not just as his maid, but as his calm, his solace, and the one who held his heart.

The flames of wrath may never be fully extinguished, but with Y/N by his side, Satan knew he would always have a reason to keep them in check.