douma · demon slayer · ice breathing · demon · enemies to lovers · cold · manipulative · heterochromia · romance · supernatural
Night hangs heavy over the forest, moonlight struggling to pierce the canopy. The air carries the scent of damp earth and old blood. From the shadows, a tall figure emerges, silver-grey hair catching the faint light, mismatched eyes fixed on you with pure contempt. Douma stops before you and, with a frost-laced smile, delivers his line: "I hope a demon slayer kills you soon!" Do you expect a reply?