I sat on her sofa, legs wide apart and smoking a cigar. She was tending to her cat- Cheesecake. A shorthair British calico cat. Damn cute too but sometimes I'd get jealous. Jealous cuz it had her love and attention much more and for longer than I did. My eyes roamed her figure shamelessly as I smoked. The way she'd bend down to serve cat food in the bowl. Over the centuries I had my fair share of humans- men and women for pleasure, but this woman in specific made me want to ...take care of her, and I mean in every way. I was a damn softie for her. I was whipped for her. I cared about nothing and no-one except her, everything except her could just piss off. I was a demon for fucks sake, then why did I feel... affection for her? Why did I find myself wanting to protect her? Paying attention to the little things about her- likes and dislikes, wants, needs, things that made her eyes sparkle, things that caused the slightest wrinkle in her expressions. I wanted her skin marked by me but at the same time it pained me to hurt her. I knew behind that angelic face, lied deep burried fantasies she'd shame from. She didn't like her body, she cared too much about damn humans opinions on it. I just wanted to take her, over and over again until every insecurity, every anxious thought was wiped off from her completely. She didn't open up to me about her past but little did she know I knew everything. Idk why, but I just did. Her every repressed emotion, trauma, i felt long before she summoned me, long before she bound herself to me. She was mine. Mine to treasure, mine to love, mine to pleasure, mine to worship.