#ggwrites

During his morning workout routines, where Satan bench pressed massive weights bigger than a house, you were placed on the top rung on a weight rack. Getting down without his help was out of the question.

Or when he worked in his workshop on various intimidating torture devices or a collection of familiar golden rings, he trapped you in a vented terrarium box like a bug.

Cooking his heavily raw, meaty, protein packed meals? You were placed in a deep dish, mixing bowl that was too smooth for climbing out. 

Satan was in his personal study, surrounded by chunky, old tomes and a scattering of unorganized legal papers? He placed you on a stack of rickety books that would fall if you moved wrong.

Watching TV? You had a pillow to sit on and if you moved off it at all, he’d cover you with a blanket.

Phone calls? You had to keep quiet under the fear of being plucked up like a kitten and tossed in a laundry basket.

Brushing his teeth? He set you in a soap dish that smelled like cheap men’s cologne.

The only moments you were allowed alone time was when you both slept, used the restroom, and changed your clothes. Satan didn’t trust you to be on your own, which was understandable if not also extremely frustrating. You kept your head down as best you could, speaking politely and attempting to keep things civil, but given you were in the same spaces all the time … It was growing increasingly difficult for either of you not to be an irritant to the other. 

First - You refused to eat meat. Which meant you either had to force yourself to eat what he made, or if you were too stubborn, he’d have to order special food just for you.There was no way in Lucifer's-burning-asshole he would make a salad.

Second - Satan refused to lower the volume of his TV or music. The dragon liked things loud, even having a fan on at times throughout the day so there was no room for silence. And so, you had raging headaches by bedtime. And any painkiller pills Satan had were the size of your calf! 

Thirdly and perhaps most egregiously - He refused to buy you different clothing then what had been given to you originally. You weren’t sure what to expect with the fashions of Hell, considering your only point of references were Satan’s leathers, the staff’s black and white uniforms, and Yogirt’s modest robes. You prayed for simple garments, maybe some with soft neutral tones, and were instead met with skin tight pants, revealing crop tops, lacy and revealing underwear, and the same variation of heels in shades of red and black. Everything was edgy and dark, hyper femme, and even fully dressed you felt barer than the women in Satan’s pin up posters. 

The colors clashed with your natural blues and greens, reds and hot pinks and far too much black. The textures were too hard or itchy, like hard leather and tight latex. It all clung to tight, to hot, and worse of all … None of it counted for your large feather wings! You had no idea how to move around or act in such uncomfortable outfits, and your skin began to get painful rubs. 

Finally, after six days of you two butting heads, you snapped!

“No.” You stomped your foot on Satan’s dresser, surrounded by a littering of clothes that were laid out around like you were a doll to play dress up. You had one of Satan’s socks wrapped around your nude body like a towel.

“Yes.” Satan loomed, his golden eyes glaring down at you with rapidly growing impatience, and one of his hands tapped those golden claws along the black wood - Like war drums. His tail was twitching behind him. 

“No!” You glared and stamped that foot once more.

“Yes!” Satan raised his voice to match, his tail snapping around like a whip in the air. “For fucks sake woman, get dressed!” 

“Not until you get me the clothes I want!” Your wings fluttered out in agitation. “None of these things are comfortable o-or fit right.”

Satan rolled his four golden eyes. “You think I give a rat’s ass about your comfort?”

“Shouldn't you?!”

“You’re my prisoner, not a welcomed house guest!” The great dragon craned his head downwards, huffing smoke from his flared nostrils over you; powerful enough to make your hair wave behind you like a cape. “Get. Dressed. Right. Fucking. Now.” 

You held his glare and leaned up on tiptoes, so close and yet not; meeting him just a few feet away from the tip of his nose. “I’d. Rather. Be. Naked.”

Satan yanked back his head with his upper lip drawn back in a flustered snarl. You swore you even saw a rush of red across his already crimson skin. “YOU LITTLE-!!”

“HOT HEAD!!” 

“That’s it!” Satan shouted and charged. 

With a rush of strong magic that smelled of burnt ozone, with shifting skin and clothing scattering to the wild wind, you were no longer alone on the dresser. Rapidly stomping his way towards you was the comically smaller proportioned sin himself. Living in his overly sized house and interacting with a giant like Satan had shifted your perception of size - So much that you were confused at how wrong he looked now shrunk to a “normal” scale, even if he stood well over three feet taller than you, your mind blanked on what to do. 

Surely this wasn’t the same Satan, right? He had the same wide shoulders, narrow hips, long tail, and large wings. And yet something felt different. And you didn’t have time to place it, as reality came in the form of his hands trying to grab at you while also picking up one of the sleek black leather dresses.

“Come here!” Satan ran at you with the dress in hand.

“AH!!” You turned tail and ran the other way, hearing his heavy boots clambering after you. “NO!”

“I ain’t got time for this!” Satan shouted, his voice for once not making your chest vibrate. “Get your ass over here!!” 

“Cotton!” You ran to a collection of lotion bottles and scale oils. “Silk! Jersey knit! Anything else but THAT!!” 

“It’s Gucci! It’s expensive!!” 

Satan barreled through two plastic bottles to get at you, but missed as you ducked down and crawled hands and knees behind a coarse buffing brush. 

“It’s trash!” You hissed. “I don’t even know what Goo-Shee is! What about those baggy jumpers with the hoods?” 

“A-what?” Satan narrowed his gaze as he thought through the blunt rolodex of clothing. “Hoodies?!” 

You ducked up from behind your brush-barrier. “Yes! One of the maids, she has one she wears a pink one, and it’s got slits in the back for her wings. O-Or the younger Imp server, Phillip, has one where his horns can pop out! Can’t I have clothes like that?!” 

The dragon gagged. “IMP clothes?! I’d rather you be naked than having that cheap shit in my house.”

“Classist! Racist!!” 

“Pain in the scale!!” 

Ahem. 

You both looked up to see the calmer presence of Yogirt flying a few yards above, clearing his voice and giving Satan a calmer, tense smile. “Satan, Sir, may I ask why you are chasing your guest-”

“She AINT my guest!” Satan huffed and smoke rolled from flared nostrils. 

“-Your ward,” Yogirt corrected with a defensive lift of his hands. “And screaming at her, as she’s very much … nude? Especially since she has clothes?” 

“What do you think I’m trying to do?!” The sin held up the dress. “The fucking fallen brat won’t wear them!!” 

“Cherub.” You corrected him. “Not a brat.” 

Before Satan could turn on you with a blast of fire, Yogirt clapped his hands. “O-Kay, perhaps this is a great time to hang our negative-nancy hats on a wall hook and take a little pause to practice our breathing exercises? Harsh tones and mean words don’t seem to be the proper tools to help deal with the current situation, yes?”

“SHE-!!” Satan nearly bellowed. 

“In through the nose!” Yogrit smiled and breathed in deep. “Hold three seconds, out through the mouth. Pheeew~ Come on.” He smiled and led by example, breathing in and out once more.

You raised a doubtful brow - There was no way Satan would actually follow the Incubus’ instructions - And you turned your gaze back to the red dragon. Any and all words were instantly eaten as you watched Satan, growling and huffing, breathing in and out to mimic Yogrit. Once, twice, the Sin and therapist breathed in tandem. Yogrit looked at you and waved his slim hand encouragingly for you to join in. 

One moment you were playing marry-go-round with a shrunken Satan, and then the next you stood at his side and were in sync with the breathing exercises. Or well, you were more curious watching Satan’s closed-eyed expression than your own breathing. Pitching your head to one side, you watched as the furrows in his four brows relaxed and his strong tail slowed to a steady, chilled sway and not the agitated raise and flick. He was actually calming down. So much so that when your gazes meet, you saw his rage at you simmered down to a mild annoyance.

“There we go.” Yogrit’s smile beamed with pride. “How are we feeling?” 

“Mad.” Satan scoffed. 

“Which is a great improvement over murderous! Now,” the Incubus flew down closer to your level. “How about you, Miss? How do you feel?” 

Even with your grip on the sock still tight, you noticed your body overall felt surprisingly lax. You were still mad too, and there was an odd sense of calm to everyone’s voice.

“I’m … better.” You responded with a softer tone. “But I’m still not wearing those clothes.” Your own thin green tail pointed to the mess of stripper-like garments blown about.

Satan took a deep breath and his fingers flexed a few times in and out of fists. The sin looked to the other Hellborn, who in turn gave him a small prompting look; as if the two were talking in code. Go on. 

The Lord grumbled and turned his golden eyes on you. “Why?”

You frowned. “I told you. They are uncomfortable and- …” You flicked your own gaze to Yogrit again, who gave you that same encouraging expression. Right. A sigh pulled from your lips. “I don’t like the way they m-make me feel.” 

“Which is-?!” Satan crossed his arms. “Besides being uncomfortable. They’re damn fine clothes and cost me-!” 

Yogrit cleared his throat again. 

The Sin’s jaw clicked. Each word crackled from behind fangs like he was chewing glass. “Can. You. Be. More specific?”

“The leather and latex. It itches. A-And,” You took a ginger step forward. “All of it, or the lack of coverage, makes me feel exposed and embarrassed.” 

Satan huffed and put his hands on his hips. “Exposed? There ain’t no one here to see you besides me and the staff.”

“Well, yeah, perhaps, but it still makes me feel- … I feel- …I’m glad to have clothes, but If I could at least pick out fabrics I like, or the colors-?” You lost your voice as Satan’s hard expression remained. Your wings sagged.

“I think,” Yogrit interjects. “What she’s trying to say is while our newest royal ward is thankful that you’ve taken the effort to think on her needs, Hell’s fashion is perhaps a bit too … revealing for her tastes? It’s perhaps understandable, since she was an angel until a few weeks ago. And however long she’s been estranged from Heaven-”

That took you by surprise. How did this Incubus know that? You had to rapidly think on how long you were here versus how long it’d have taken for someone to learn your story. Unless someone knew where to look in Greek stories, you were lost to the eons. 

“-Her enjoyment of modern fashions might not be as strong as a new-age counterpart?” 

AKA - You were old fashioned. Did Satan tell others just how ancient you were? If so, who and how many? You made a mental note to ask later.

Yogrit turned his attention back to you and gave a small bow of his head. “Therefore, I must apologize in turn." 

Satan and you blinked in unison. 

“Why are YOU saying sorry?” The Sin glared.

“Because I’m the one you charged to purchase her clothing, remember?" He sighed and offered a sympathetic smile. “I had assumed perhaps top of the line choices would be welcomed, not a discomfort. I’m not one to turn away from my mistakes.” Yogrit gave Satan another one of those quiet looks, words left unsaid. Your turn.

The crimson dragon and fallen cherub looked at one another again and you found your stomach settled as Satan’s annoyance was nowhere to be found. As those four gold eyes, weighed with time and rage, fixated you with something almost tender, colder, you were taken back millennia. To navy skies and unlimited room. Before the great Father made fixtures permanent. Before it all came crashing down. Before the fire, there was an embracing cold.

But as Satan gave his own incline of that regal head, the crown of black and white bowed, your stomach roared to life with butterflies on fire. “ 𝕬𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖎𝖊𝖘, 𝕬𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖆, 𝕲𝖔𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗-𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖘. 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖛𝖊 ... 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 … ”  

Hearing his deep voice, that constant growl tempered by that ancient tongue, you felt the base of your feather’s puff.

Oh … Oh my. He knew your given name. He figured you out.

Satan walked to the edge of the set of drawers, then off and in a blaze of fire he grew back to his majestic height. “Yogrit,” The Incubus stood taller when addressed. “Can you please work with her to find clothing she’ll actually wear?” He growled and turned to walk out of the bedroom. “Spare no expense.” 

“Lord Satanas?” Your bare feet tapped as you moved to the edge as well, but stopped just at the point he jumped. Drawing Satan’s attention he paused as you called out. 

“𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝖞𝖔𝖚.” It was your turn to bow, but much deeper this time and you remained low until he left. You felt the heat of his huff, a short sigh, and then he was gone. 

You had no idea if Yogrit understood what you and Satan were saying, but something in his eyes, a faint glimmer, was all you needed to confirm a few things. One - He knew. He knew who you were. And two, maybe while not understanding the exact words, the Incubus had enough insight to gauge the meaning. He knew exactly what it meant to you … and to the sin he served. 

“So,” he clapped his hands again, part of his personality. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Satan’s footsteps were booming as soon as he was out of sight, power walking to his office where he closed the door behind himself with a panicked SLAM! His wings and back were pressed to the polished black wood; laboured lungs wild and wide eyed. What in all the seven rings was THAT?! He lost his cool, chased that stupid little harlot around like some pious priest trying to dress a whore!! Why the fuck did he care if she was naked or not?! Let her walk around Hell, tits out, that peachy shaped ass on display! If someone wanted to rough house her, she- … He … He HAD been worried! Why?!

He growled and paced the office, black boots burning fresh imprints in the deep red carpet. His long tail snapped in the air as he tried to think. 

Did he not have enough of fallen angels and their bullshit to handle with the Morningstar household?! Lucifer was still as lazy, and depressed, as ever - Even if he was back at work!! Lucifer for years had become a useless sack of feathers and now, even with the broken Archangel back at work, it was like herding a massive, bored, ADD riddled house cat! Satan did NOT want nor need to take care of another stupid little Heaven discard!! He was a SIN, for Christ sake!! More so, he wasn’t as weak as Asmodeus or reckless like Beelzebub! He couldn’t afford sentimentality! 

More so, he couldn’t risk blowing up at this one singular woman over something as stupid as a form fitting dress! Why did she have to be so difficult?! So stubborn and charming and-! NO! He was NOT going to get distracted by how fucking pretty she was when she glared and yelled! 

He groaned loudly and plopped down in a leather chair, steam rolling from his mouth as he slumped deeper with a drawn out sigh. Satan rubbed his face with his heated palms, trying to massage out the tension in his jaw. He counted numbers. 100 and down. By the time Satan got to 35, he was marginally less flustered. 

He did not like how quickly and easily this little cherub could sink her talons into his hide. Satan had spent years building resentment, his throne, his rage, against the colder softer version he’d been so very long ago. He wanted to be rage, wanted to be Wrath and fire. And yet, Princess Morningstar’s mission was starting to turn eons of hard work upside down. She was stirring the pot of the universe, and now more than morning stars were falling. 

Asteria. He knew her name. Or at least the title humans gave his ward over the ages. Perhaps she would pick a new name. The Greeks had the closest lore, but even they lacked the depth billions of years had on souls immortal beings carried. Humanity would never fully understand their pain, their rage, their loneliness. 

One hand moved from Satan’s face to rest in his lap. 

Satan recalled Beelzebub asking a few months back for Satan to send Lucifer a gift, a bride really, to come back to work. While Satan had no claim that the hat had helped, there was the small hope that in some small way, perhaps also with the influence of his daughter’s attention, Lucifer was encouraged by the “care” and affirmations … to try. That doubt ridden, weakling was actually trying. Meanwhile, Satan was here in his estate complaining and pouting over a task HE chose to take … to keep this prisoner in his house, under his care, until the King would wake again. And Satan was gleaming that once the King was awake, he’d get back to work; even if Lucifer was shit at it. 

Satan cared. He wanted this cherub to be comfortable, before he would “rip” her apart in his court. He wanted answers, as did everyone, a plan, an idea. Satan had tried to ignore all the texts and calls from his niece. Charlie was trying as well. 

Fine. He huffed and rose to collect his phone from the nearby desk. 

If the sunshine-incarnate Princess of Hell and her pitiful father could try their best, in spite of the shit and chaos stirring the preverbal boiling pot of life, then by all the fires of his soul, Satan could do the same. He’d leave Yogrit to tend to Asteria for the time being, buy her clothing and objects to bring her comfort. And Satan meanwhile had a few calls to make.

WELCOME TO THE AUTHOR'S NOTE~

PHEW! It's DONE! I was deep in the depression for a hella long time, but now I have drive to pick back up writing once more! And I wanna thank my wife helping me do edits and giving me encouragement to keep going! The reader right now has a name, but in time she's gonna pick her own name and I'm still debating if I wanna to y/n, work around it with pet names, or give vague directional cues for smooth reading?

🫘🫘🫘Thank you my little beans! 🫘🫘🫘 I hope you had a good read and will stick around for the next part!