#he was so angry at him his anger personified itself into Satan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dontenchantme · 4 years ago

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garden of eden - part two

Rated E, Satan x MC.

[no rad au] he was the serpent who had lured her out of paradise. she ought to hate him, but she didn’t.

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She woke up gasping, still able to feel phantom fingers wrapped around her throat.

Cold sweat trickled down her forehead, and she found that her hands were halfway reaching towards her neck – with a sigh, she turned onto her side and closed her eyes, burying her face in her pillow. She wasn’t used to sleeping alone. She didn’t think it would be so…strange.

It had been a long time since she last had to wind down by herself. It wasn’t something that she particularly enjoyed doing. Sure, being single and independent was great, but – she was used to having a warm body lying beside her. And without that, she felt…empty. Incomplete.

She got off the bed and jammed her feet into her bedroom slippers, deciding to go and get a drink from the kitchen. It didn’t feel like she’d be able to sleep again anytime soon.

Shuffling out of her room, she switched on all the lights in the apartment as she walked down the hallway, the sudden illaumination making her feel a bit less lonely. But when she got to the entrance of the kitchen, she hesitated, suddenly thinking about the demon who had come to her earlier in the evening. Satan. Just the thought of his name made her shudder.

It wasn’t quite fear that she felt. She knew it wasn’t. Fear had an acrid stench to it. There was no way she could associate something so bitter with a man that beautiful.

Call my name and perhaps I’ll come to you. She was tempted, honestly. If he was a demon and demons were willing to do anything in exchange for a human soul, then could she ask him to spend the night with her? She peered past the doorway, part of her hoping that he might be standing at the counter waiting for her again, but the kitchen was empty.

Grabbing a glass, she poured herself some water, stifling a yawn as she raised the drink to her lips. She still had work tomorrow and she ought to get more rest, but as the cool liquid slid down her throat it seemed to clear the fog of exhaustion from her mind and suddenly, she was wide awake. Placing the empty glass in the sink, she wondered about what to do next – the thought of returning to bed just to stare at the ceiling was rather unappealing.

Her neck throbbed, and she winced, her hand shooting up to touch the tender flesh – she couldn’t help but dream about him strangling her, dream about how his hands made her nerves sing, how the ruthlessness in his eyes stoked something in her belly and forced sensation into something she long thought numb. Her toes curled at the memory of his smile.

Why was she so obsessed with him? Her eyebrow twitched as she turned on the tap, a flood of water gushing out into the sink – she wasn’t the type to fall head-over-heels for a man she barely knew, least of all when the other party was a literal demon from Hell. But when he kissed her all her normal good sense seemed to merrily throw itself out of the window.

She wanted him with an intensity she’d never experienced before, and that scared her more than Satan himself did. This made no sense. She had to get her priorities fixed.

Annoyed at him, at herself and her overall situation, she washed the glass and placed it on the drying rack, her eyebrows knitted as she tried to think of various ways to pass the time. It was three in the morning. She had a good few hours until she had to get ready for work.

She felt self-conscious, walking down the street with the dagger in her coat. It wasn’t so bulky that she couldn’t carry it around, but knowing it was there made everything feel…exciting.

Not that she had decided whether or not she wanted to use it yet. They were talking about her soul here. And everything she’d heard about sinners and the afterlife made Hell sound like an awful place to be. She’d prefer not to be eaten. Or tortured for the rest of eternity.

The dagger was still warm. She could feel it radiating heat through her sweater – not that she was complaining, the extra warmth was welcome in today’s crap weather. The past few weeks the chill had been relatively mild, but today it was finally cold enough to snow, and God, how she hated the snow. She trudged through the street, desperate to get to her office building.

When she finally stepped into the lobby, shaking the snow off her coat and beanie, she made her way to the lift, pleased that she didn’t have to share it with someone. She purposely came in early today so that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone on the way to her cubicle.

At her desk, she surreptitiously removed the dagger from her coat and hid it in her cabinet. In truth, she didn’t know why she took it with her this morning. But when she was about to leave her room, some eerie impulse seized her and the next thing she knew, she had retrieved the dagger and tucked it inside her outer coat. She still hadn’t figured out what to do with it.

Once she locked her cabinet, she got up from her seat and headed to the washroom – her final moment of privacy before she had to check her emails. There was hardly anyone else around on her floor and no one stopped her to chat, which she was thankful for.

The washroom was empty, and she went to the sink, studying her reflection. Carefully, she unrolled her turtleneck sweater – the bruises were still there, dark and painful. She tilted her head. Underneath the stark lighting, the marks almost seemed to move.

“Pretty bruises, aren’t they?” A vaguely familiar voice suddenly rang off the walls – she whipped around and saw Satan leaning against the door, his hands tucked in his pockets. Amusement danced in his green eyes. “It makes me wonder what you’d look like when you bleed.”

She ought to be afraid of him, afraid of the dark threat that lingered behind his words, but all she could focus on was the curve of his lips and how soft they looked, entirely at odds with the violence that seemed to swirl around him. Satan was smiling, his posture calm and relaxed, but even so she’d never seen someone look so dangerous.

Why wasn’t she more afraid of him? Any rational human being would be. Maybe she had lost her sanity after catching her ex with that woman. “What are you doing in my office?”

“I noticed that you carried the dagger out with you today, so I was wondering if you intended to stab someone.” He shrugged, pushing himself away from the door as he spoke. “It’d be a shame to own something so powerful and not try to use it, right?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Thought you said you were giving me time to consider.”

“Am I not? After all, I’m not ordering you to use it.” His laughter was almost tangible, tendrils winding around her wrists and ankles, coaxing her closer. Rich, inviting, his voice was sin personified. “I just repeated the thoughts that were already on your mind. You know that much yourself.”

He wasn’t wrong, but she’d rather he didn’t say it aloud like that. It made her sound like the kind of person she didn’t want to be. “That’s beside the point. How are you in my office? I didn’t summon you or anything. I’m not even angry right now.”

Satan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not? Really?” He took a step towards her and she froze, her breath trapped in her throat. Was this what it felt like to be cornered by a predator? He walked with the languid grace of someone who had all the time in the world, and every step he took made her more nervous. More excited. More…everything. “You’ve been seething with rage ever since last night, even if you shove your anger below more boring emotions like comfort and satisfaction and glee. Anger isn’t something that can be contained so easily.”

His smile was wry, almost taunting. She wanted to find a way to wipe it off his face. “Right. You seem to do an awfully good job of containing it though, for a demon that represents wrath.”

“You truly think so?” He chuckled, his smile widening into a brilliant grin. He was dazzling. She almost wanted to cover her eyes. “Well, it’d be rather embarrassing if I lacked control over my sin, don’t you agree?” He reached her, and she felt his fingertips brush against her cheek – his skin was cold, so cold. Colder than the winter air outside. Colder than death.

“What do you want from me?” she asked. She had no idea what demons liked to do in their free time but given that Satan was supposedly one of the seven princes of Hell, she doubted he would just pop in to say hello. He must have better things to do.

“You’re a mortal who caught my eye. Nothing more, nothing less.” Satan shrugged again. “It’s been a while since anyone has been bold enough to approach me. To keep thinking about me. To even dream about me.” He leant closer, and her breath caught – she couldn’t move, helplessly transfixed by the tiny distance between their lips. “It’s foolish to be entranced by a demon, you know. After all, the only thing I’m interested in is your fragile mortal soul.”

His hand shifted from her face down to her neck, lingering over the fabric of her sweater. She could feel the iciness of his skin even through the thick material. “But I’ve always enjoyed this. Watching women get their revenge on their worthless lovers. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Melodramatic indeed, but no word rings false.” His fingers tugged at her turtleneck, exposing her blotchy, purpled skin to him. She felt strangely naked.

“Does that make me your newest plaything, then?” she whispered. She still wasn’t afraid. She should be, but she wasn’t. His dark eyes met hers, almost questioning, and then she dragged him closer and they were kissing again, the kind of kiss that devoured the air between them and set fire to her lungs. Her fingers pulled at his blond hair, greedy and uncaring – if he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gripped her hips and effortlessly lifted her so that she was propped on the sink. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist – at this height, she didn’t need to tiptoe to reach him, and something about his nearness made her dizzy.

His kiss was punishing. His tongue forced its way past her lips, and she whimpered, unable to help herself. His hands roamed over her body, untucking her sweater and sliding up her bare torso – she flinched at his touch. It was almost like being thrown into ice water. She wanted to push him away and tell him to go warm himself up first, but then his hands found the edge of her bra and suddenly all she could see was nothingness. Everything was white, pure white.

She could hear herself panting, her body trembling with anticipation – a wire drawn taut, almost ready to snap. She was only vaguely aware of him pushing her sweater up. Satan yanked her bra down, exposing one hardened nipple. He met her gaze and there was a satisfied gleam in his eyes that looked almost feline – that was the last thing she thought about before he took her breast into his mouth and began to suck.

She bit her lip, trying her hardest not to let out a sound – the last thing she needed was for a concerned colleague to barge into the washroom and catch her entwined with a demon. But Satan was so good. Where his fingers were frigid, his tongue was warm and wet and he knew how to use his mouth in a way that drew pleas and whimpers out of her, unconscious prayers for salvation falling from her lips. She tightened her grip on him, hooking her ankles together behind his back, and was pleased to feel his hardness grind against her aching core.

It would be so nice to just strip her pants off and let him take her right there. She wanted this. She wanted him. It’d been so damn long since she last felt pleasure from sex. In her previous relationship, sex was comforting but lazy, something neither of them put particular effort into anymore. Sometimes she didn’t even remember what sex was like. But this was different. She felt almost electric. Like she was being reborn somehow, pushed into a world filled with pain and violence, the erotic whispers of pleasure underneath it all – Satan sank his teeth into her flesh, and she jolted into his mouth, her fingers twisting in his hair. It hurt. It hurt so well.

“Satan, Satan.” She realised that was her voice, her breathy whisper calling his name with the kind of reverence normally reserved for the church. He growled in response, the vibrations of his voice shooting into her nipple throughout her entire body, and she shuddered, longing to whip off her damp panties. She wanted to take his cock into her mouth, graze the delicate skin with her teeth before allowing him to fuck her, the tip of him sinking into her throat. God, how badly she wanted this. She was burning with desire and want, and he was looking at her with that triumphant glint in his eyes, his pretty lips still wrapped around her –

Then someone banged on the washroom door, and she stilled, holding her breath. “Oi! I don’t know who’s taking such a damn long time in the washroom but get out already!”

That voice sounded an awful lot like her boss. She let out a groan, and Satan slowly released her nipple with a quiet pop, still looking amused. “This is all your fault,” she said, hopping off the sink and trying to arrange her clothes as best as she could – her lipstick was smeared and the feverish sheen of lust was still present in her eyes, but everything should be fine once she touched up her makeup and splashed some cold water on her cheeks.

“My fault? You seemed very into it,” Satan answered, and his coy smile made her want to slap him. “Maybe if you do something to get my approval, I’ll show you a better time tonight.”

She froze, wondering if she should clarify what he meant, but when she turned around Satan was gone and she was left alone in the washroom, heat pulsing through her veins.

Do something to get Satan’s approval. She twirled her pen between her fingers, considering her options – she had a few ideas, none of which would be good for her soul.

Was this what it felt like to be tempted by the devil? Satan made a very compelling argument. Some tiny, rational part of her mind told her she was stupid for even considering his proposal – to become a sinner just so he would spend the night with her? She wasn’t like that.

She wasn’t supposed to be impulsive or hot-headed. All her life she’d forced herself to study hard, to work hard, to do everything with the utmost effort she could muster because this was the only way she could succeed. But she was so tired. So sick of putting up this façade all the time. Sometimes she could feel tiny cracks forming in her carefully maintained exterior.

He found those cracks, his voice slithering into the fault lines which bypassed all logic, which gave him a direct path straight to her heart. He coaxed her, persuading her to close her eyes and just give in to the resentment that bubbled away in her chest, festering and malignant.

There was something undeniably powerful and dangerous about him, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him, couldn’t bring herself to run away even when he approached her, filled with dangerous intent. She suppressed all instinct to flee, desperate to hear his voice. If Satan was one of the rulers of Hell, then surely Hell couldn’t be such a bad place. Could it?

She pressed her fingers against her temple. Ever since that episode in the washroom, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being split apart – one half of her reminded her that Satan was a demon; that all he wanted was to devour her soul and tempt her to sin. But the other half of her was drunk off him. She wanted his hands wrapped around her neck and his lips on hers, rough and unforgiving. And struggling between these two halves was exhausting.

It would be nice if she could just stop thinking, but probably the only way she could do that was if she went home now and drank until she fell asleep. Did she even still have wine?

Just then, two thick folders were dropped onto her desk and she jumped – when she looked up, she saw her colleague staring at her, chewing on some gum. It was the same guy they all suspected of sleeping his way to a promotion, and immediately she frowned, glancing at the folders he’d so unceremoniously deposited. “What’s all this?”

“Boss wants to start migrating all our data to the new system. We still have data from our old archives, so we need someone to transfer all this over.” He blew a bubble and popped it.

“Isn’t that your job?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. At least that was what she knew based on his job title. She’d never actually seen him doing anything related to data architecture.

“I work with bigger things. This is intern-level work.” He grinned at her – he probably thought he looked cute. She just thought he looked smarmy. “Don’t you have an intern? Just throw it to them. It’ll be a nice change from making coffee all the time.”

She bristled. “My intern left last month, just in case you didn’t notice. And don’t you have staff with capacity? You have an entire team working under you. You don’t need my help.”

Normally she wouldn’t be this confrontational, but something compelled her to stand up for herself today. She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. It was lunchtime, yet she was still at her desk, trying to rush out a report her boss wanted before the end of the day. She did not need an entitled prick trying to flaunt his newfound authority in front of her.

“You’re the fastest at data entry, though! That’s why everyone goes to you, isn’t it?” said prick replied, though she thought his smile dimmed at her response. She bet he had been expecting her to just suck it up and say yes, as always. “C’mon, I need your help. This has to be finished by next week and I’m already struggling with that other portfolio. Please?”

She rose from her chair, picking up the folders and pushing them back into his arms. “Not in the mood to help you today. I’m swamped. Try asking your temp staff – I saw one of them flirting with the receptionist in the pantry.” There was nothing more satisfying than watching his jaw drop, and she hid a smile by ducking her head and turning her attention back to her computer.

He tried to change her mind a few more times, but she was stubborn, and eventually, he left. Though he made a few veiled threats about reporting her to the higher-ups, she didn’t care much – at most she’d look for another job somewhere. Hell, she’d even take up babysitting again if that meant she could escape from corporate slavery.

Her gaze drifted to her cabinet and abruptly, she remembered the dagger she had locked away earlier in the day. She was giddy with triumph and maybe that made her more reckless than usual, but all of a sudden she found herself thinking about using the weapon on all the men who had let her down before, one way or another – starting with her stupid ex, then her asshole colleague, then the boy who had bullied her back in grade school, then the jerk who simply couldn’t stop playing his bass guitar in the middle of the night…

So many possibilities. So many ways to make herself happy. Why did she have to crawl up the corporate ladder just to obtain some illusion of contentment? Things would be much easier if she could just…get rid of the obstacles in her life. And she had the perfect means to do so right there, in her cabinet. She chewed on her lip. It was a frighteningly attractive possibility.

What did it mean to give up her soul? What would happen to her? What punishment should she expect? Perhaps Satan could tell her. She was aware he had no incentive to reveal all this to her, but…if she asked nicely, maybe he would let something slip. Reaching for the cabinet, she let her fingers linger on the lock, her skin brushing over cold metal.

Tonight. Tonight, she’d consider. She wasn’t going to make an impulsive decision, not even if every nerve in her body sang at the thought of getting her way.

#satan obey me #satan x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me

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