"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?!" You yell out at the man sitting on your counter, next to the boiling pot. "You summoned me." He simply answers, cocking his head a little in a motion that almost seems innocent. "I was trying to cook- not summon a demon!" You yell out, frustrated- and he can't help but smirk. "Well- I'll be having dinner either way."
Your grandma sure used weird ingredients.
But then again, she'd passed away in a different time- and you were no one to judge. With the memory of her cooking in mind, and in desperate need of a pick-me-up, you'd started to read through the worn down book in hopes of finding something that was easy enough for you to recreate. You're not that good at cooking- you know how to make instant ramen and how to open any wine bottle using the kitchen utensils you got, but that's about it for you. Your mother had always scolded you for that.
'You'll never find a man like that!' She'd shout at you with a shake of her head, while you'd scarf down your instant meal.
But things are different now. You're an adult, you live alone, and you have no one to do the home-cooking any more than yourself. The problem is, that you're just… Not talented in cooking at all. Even the most detailed tutorial on the World Wide Web can't help you, it seems- something always goes wrong, as if you're just followed by bad luck. It frustrates you constantly, even led you to take cooking classes at some point.
But it was nothing but wasted money.
It'd quite sad really. Maybe your mom was right when she said you'd stay lonely without 'womanly qualities' like that- but oh well what did she know. With four divorces under her belt, she certainly was one to talk.
The pot on the stove suddenly begins to sizzle, before you notice it's overflowing- weird smoke coming from it as it suddenly blinds you like a flashbang, making you fall onto your butt on the tiled floor of your kitchen. When you open your eyes, you're not alone anymore- a man sitting on your counter dressed in black, crimson eyes watching as you hassle to grab the next best thing for your self defense; a whisk, in this case. "What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?!" You yell out at the man sitting next to the boiling pot.
"You summoned me." He simply answers, coking his head a little in a motion that almost seems innocent.
"I was trying to cook- not summon a demon!" You yell out, frustrated- and he can't help but smirk.
"Well- I'll be having dinner either way." He says, and you furrow your brow.
"I'm not giving you my soul." You warn, and he chuckles before shaking his head, arms crossed in front of him.
"Dont want it anyway." He says, and you feel a little oddly offended. Your soul was totally fine- a bit tainted maybe, but still fine. "I can see you're not up for a contract." He shrugs, and you shake your head.
"I'm absolutely not." You agree, and he smiles.
"Considering your rather sour mood-" he starts, before he leans over to turn off the stove. "I can think of something that's benefitting both of us." You look at him, unsure what he means, before he leans back a little- crimson eyes looking at your chest before he bites his lip in amusement. It's only then that you notice the buttons of your shirt slipping open, before you instantly reach to cover yourself. "Aw come on-" He complains, but doesn't interfere.
"This is a dream right?" You ask hesitantly, before he shrugs as an answer.
"If it makes you feel better about it, sure."He says. "Now come here, I'm not wasting a pretty thing like you." He mumbles, before he jumps down from the counter, caging you in instead before he helps you sit on the table behind you. "Lets hope that flimsy thing holds together." He hums lowly with hooded eyes. From the proximity, you can see that his pupils aren't really round like yours, but rather cat like. And before you can even think about his lips, they're on you, practically devouring you as his tongue slips in. You've always daydreamed about being kissed like that- it's sad that its happening in dreams still.
"What a shame." He breathes out between his antics. "No one's ever quite taken you the way someone like you should be." He says, almost annoyed as you gasp out when his hand finds your core between your legs, heel of his palm pressed against you. "Humans are so wasteful." He mumbles.
You think to yourself how you want someone to talk this highly of you in real life as well. He uses words that makes you feel cherished and special.
"Hm, that you are." He chuckles, watching you with amusement as your eyes widen. "Reading your thoughts is an easy task, pretty thing." He explains, as you roll your hips a bit. "You deserve to be feasted on every night." He growls, other hand slipping onto the cup of your bra as he plays with your breast, making you arch your back. "You need someone to take you right." He says, before he chuckles, as his hand unbottons your jeans, sliding them down until they're at your ankles while he undoes his own pants as well. "Too bad I'm going to fuck you in ways no one will ever be able to." He tells you, before you feel his hot length at your entrance.
"Look at you."He coos, eyes intently watching the way he runs the head of his cock through your by now soaked folds. He's honest when he says you're something special- he'd been following you around for a few years now, seeing you go about your day and basically watching over you as part of his contract with your grandmother. He's supposed to stay out of sight however- but oh well.
Demons rarely ever play by the rules.
And how can he if you look so delicious like that? A five star meal, ready to be tasted, and he licks his lips before he does just that- pulling a chair before sitting on it, grinning in amusement at your scandalized look, before your head falls back as he starts to eat you out. His tongue is nothing but sin- drawing patterns and swirling lines making you feel almost dizzy, before he flicks his wet muscle over your clit, your hips starting to jolt. His hand assists him further down the line, fingers entering and stretching you out, teasingly prodding at your most sensitive spot deep inside, never bringing you over the edge however.
It frustrates you a little, but oh God does it feel good.
"Dont you dare think of that cunt when I'm down here eating yours." He grits out at that thought of yours, detaching himself as his hand slaps your soaked center. Not too hard- but nowhere near gentle either. He gets up, chair falling over behind him as he readies himself to slip inside you. It's such a perfect fit, he thinks, while smiling at your thoughts turning fuzzy, clouded. "You're such a sweet thing aren't you." He jokes around teasingly, starting to thrust.
You're a whining mess as soon as he picks up his pace, hand reaching out to move over stomach, ribs, playfully slapping your breast before his fingers run up your throat. Your mouth opens almost on instinct, making his gaze focus on the sight of his fingers pushing down your tongue, obscene noises escaping you without shame. And still, you manage to sound so sickeningly sweet.
He can't stop himself.
His hands push your legs towards you, opening you up further so he can reach even deeper. The kitchen is filled with the sound of skin against skin, his grunts and huffs, and your whines and whimpers. They turn higher in pitch as you suddenly arch your back, orgasm hitting you full force-
But he doesn't stop.
He almost thinks it's funny; the way you start to squirm and shake as he pushes you through your moment of oversensitivity, straight up leading you into another orgasm right away; release staining his thighs and probably running his pants in the process as he groans out, pushing into you in desperation as he spills his seed- hot cum painting your insides while he keeps his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily alongside you.
When you open your eyes, you're in your bed, room dark and silent as you sit up. This was one of the weirdest and yet clearest dreams of all time, you think to yourself as you spot your grandmother's cookbook on the bedside table. You turn around and close your eyes, unaware of the man standing in the corner of your room;
Making sure you're asleep, before he vanishes into the shadows again.
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