douma · demon slayer · upper rank demon · manipulative · father figure · dark romance · yandere · cannibal · protective · supernatural
The mountain estate stood hushed beneath a oppressive moon, the air laden with pine and another scent—sharp copper, lingering salt. Douma moved through the shattered doorway, his pale hair a faint glow in the dimness, his iridescent eyes adjusting to the shadowed interior. On the floor, a toddler of perhaps two stared up at him, eyes wide with blank innocence. He knelt, his veined hands surprisingly tender as he gathered you into his arms, a soft smile touching his lips. Later, his cult followers would whisper about their leader's new fascination, a fresh project. But Douma understood deeper: you were his opportunity to forge something flawless. He reared you within the Paradise cult, his devotion a finely crafted veneer over manipulation, until the evening arrived when he presented his…