pages of attraction [kny x reader|oneshot]

desire 1 - douma (fluff)

The desire he has for you makes him weak,

___

The solemn whisper of the howling breeze tickled the demon's ears in sobriety, followed by the clanking of the souzo amidst its gentle running water. The evening is hailing - a normal occurrence in mid-winter of late January - and it painted the world of darkness with the gift of abundant white.

The pitter-patter of soft frozen rain and its bitter wind would deter anyone with a sane mind to enjoy the evening outside. And yet, Douma did not shy from the night's frigid embrace. He took it in; uncold of the weather before him, smiling forlornly at the cloudy sky with glazed eyes, and his slow, beating heart longing deeply for someone by the title of (Name).

Douma finds himself enjoying his freshly-brewed tea in such an evening. Something he does not participate in, even if he has nothing to do when he's bored.

It might be the first time he'd done this - to drink human beverage that used to be worthless to him - but he found himself thinking he might've drank tea a thousand times in this long life of his with how fulfilling it is for the demon.

One would ask why he's doing something so out of character, and he would not hesitate to answer them with an adoring whisper that it's all because of this familiar cup in his hand.

This ordinary object reminds Douma of you, and how you make him feel: cold, before filled with the contents of warm love. The feel of seasoned porcelain, even just the mere sight of it - felt natural... smooth, and languid.

To think that the demon even started this pseudo party for himself was already an indication enough that he wanted more of your presence in his life.

The warm cup nestled perfectly in his large hands - creating an obscure the image of your own hand in his. The beverage steamed against his pale expression in silky wisps as he sipped at it tenderly - lips cupping over the feel of the stolen ware with a giddy smile rather than enjoying the taste itself.

The black tea is nothing but bland water to his tongue compared to the excitement of drinking human blood - still, after visiting your dainty little tea shop - it was all he could do to reminisce about you as he willed himself to enjoy the numb flavor with fevered ardent.

His blonde strands are messy and unkempt, still wearing his old clothes from yesterday - almost as if trying to prolong the night spent with you in hopes to bring you into his dreams. Yet, they were uneventful much to his distaste - quite the opposite with the times he spent with you.

A wistful breath ghosted his lips, replaying the notable events that caressed his soul in rhythmic thrum. Your smile, your eyes - even the flaws you carry; everything about you makes him wanton.

How selfish, he thought to himself - he's indulging the idea of you, without you.

Perhaps, if you'd give him a chance, he'd do much more than just stare and be playful with you. He'd give you everything your mortal life would want, anything under this dark sky - because you are the everything his longing heart desire.

And he never wanted more but to have you share your eternity with him.

How unique, and spectacular you are; to capture this man's interest with nothing but that denying personality of yours.

___

"I'm sorry, but I don't serve creeps."

Douma's chest rumbled at that, the sound of wholesome entertainment whispered above his lips; chuckling at the memory of your own curling in disgust when he pulled you to his lap.