im also in need of a demon!au so just... hit me up w one if you choose to do so !
You summon the demon Yoon Jeonghan, Destroyer of Worlds, Devourer of Souls, on accident.
It pains you to even think this, but your mother might have had a point when she told you never to meddle in demon summoning, you muse as you stir a fork through the spaghetti, trying to gauge whether they’re done yet. If you’d only listened to her, you might have been able to avoid cooking your fifth meal in a day.
You frown, turning towards where Jeonghan is lounging in one of your rickety kitchen chairs, his feet kicked up on the table. For somebody who eats as much as he does, he’s outrageously skinny.
“Stop asking me that,” you grit out, looking back down at the bubbling water and the golden spaghetti swimming in it. The steam makes your eyes sting and your face is close enough to the water that you’re probably flushed like a tomato by now. “It’s not going to make them cook any faster.”
Jeonghan scoffs, and the sound alone is enough to have the hairs on your arms stand on end. Incredible, you think, that somebody who introduced himself with the titles Destroyer of Worlds, Devourer of Souls could be so goddamn annoying.
“This stuff used to be much easier in the old days,” Jeonghan says. When you glance over your shoulder, he’s already looking at you. There’s something almost shocking to his beauty, his sharp jaw, his large eyes. Something inherently inhumane in the perfection of his features, like somebody took a chisel to a particularly corrupted slab of marble. “People used to scream and spit over their shoulder at the mention of a demon. You millennials are much harder to impress. All that existential dread, I think. You’re not even scared of eternal damnation.”
“At this point,” you tell him, “spending the rest of eternity in a hellfire sounds more appealing than my next exam.”
Jeonghan almost laughs, you think. “See,” he says, gesturing towards you. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
You don’t answer, but you do pour the boiling water into the colander with enough pent-up aggression that some of it splashes upwards and burns the skin on your forearms. Serves you right, probably. It’s your own fault for trying to summon a demon to do your chores for you. Now you’re doing chores for a demon and you’re only three days in but you can already feel your brain disintegrating.
“I…” you trail off when you turn around and come face to face with Jeonghan. He’s close enough that the tip of his nose almost rubs against yours.
“Careful,” he says, gently, taking the colander from you and dumping it back in the sink. It lands with the clanging of metal against metal, but you barely take note of the noise. Jeonghan’s hands are surprisingly warm against the skin of your forearms.
His fingertips trace along the length of your limb, up your shoulder, come to rest on the bottom of your chin, feather light. It feels like the touch might burn a brand into your skin.
“You’re quite fascinating, you know? If you want an eternity of hellfire,” he says softly, tilting your face upward with the slightest pressure of his fingers, “that could be arranged.”
When Yoon Jeonghan, Destroyer of Worlds, Devourer of Souls, presses his lips against yours in the mess of your kitchen, with a colander full of rapidly cooling spaghetti floating in an ocean of dirty dish water, you think that this is much, much better than getting somebody else to do your chores. Even if it was on accident.
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