pages of attraction [kny x reader|oneshot]

desire 2 - douma (lemon)

Warning: Non-con – also known as rape.

If triggered, please do not continue.

___

"How dare you."

Your throat felt constricted with how hard he pushed your head over the wooden counter, your chest felt constructed against the furniture. His sharp nails digging painfully into your scalp with harshness that terrifies you, and you listened to him breathe harshly, the sound bringing fear in your shaking heart.

You can't scream, you wanted to scream – but the rag in your mouth gagged you, and the taste of cotton makes your tongue dry. You felt something warm dropping on your cheek – and even if it hurts; your eyes rolled to your side and there you caught a glimpse of him.

You saw him pushing a finger deep in his temple. The sight made your knees weak and you find yourself breathing in with panic – not out of lust, no; it was one of fear.

And the way he was smiling angrily at you, with those rainbow eyes wide – nerves bulging on his face with sharp row of teeth displaying for you... Douma froze a scream in your throat.

"I gave you my affection, my mercy, my love." His voice trembled, cracked and his eyes looked forlorn as he looks down at you. But that broken look easily faded with the anger that took a toll on his expression. "And this is how you repay me?!"

He pushed you on the wood again, and you cried with a glare that feels permanent in your eyes.

The low light from the lanterns outside illuminated in the shoji windows you have in your shop, and the shadows that gripped Douma's face made him more and more of the demon you knew him to be.

You should have told him about Kyoujurou before he left. You should have—

"You dare try to play around with my enemy when you belong to me?" You stared at him with all vile spite you can have in your being, and he pushed your face even harder on the wooden surface, now pooling with your lukewarm tears.

'I don't belong to you,' You screamed through your makeshift gag, but they sounded nothing but indecent words muffled by walls. You bit on the rag, gritted your teeth, and moved your body as you try to fight him off – but his strength is as terrifying as the way his eyes softened at your helpless struggles.

"Sweetheart..." His words were uttered with a loving whisper one would give to their lover – but you're not his, and that only further irked you.

His finger squelched disgustingly away from his head, and your eyes widened at how easy his bleeding stopped. You threw your shoulder away from him as you felt his blood mixing with your tears, his maroon finger brushing tenderly on your cheekbones.

His caresses were soft, and supposedly they are warm because of his blood – but they felt so cold against your face. Disgustingly cold.

So cold that it made feel like vomiting every insult at him.

You don't want him to touch you, you'd rather die – and your determination spiraled with the way your binded wrists below you rubbed harshly against the ropes he tied on you. Douma noticed it easily, and even with your vision blurred; you saw how his eyes gazed at you with fascination.

He chuckled – as if your suffering was something so amusing for the likes of him.

"You looked so beautiful, even if you cry like this." He sighed warmly, and you felt his chest pressed on your back as you glared at him – his soft stare hardened into irritation. "But I don't like it when you look at me like that."