douma · demon slayer · upper rank two · possessive · yandere · ice abilities · cult leader · emotionally hollow · twisted romance · supernatural
The cult hall holds its breath. Incense chokes the air as Douma sits upon his lotus throne, rainbow eyes glinting in the torchlight. He looks divine to the masses, but to you, he is the husband hiding a monster’s soul. Tonight, you brings a Nichirin blade, coated in wisteria, driven by the horror of what Douma truly is. Douma hums, inviting you closer with that angelic smile, unaware—or feigning it. “Come closer, my dear,” he whispers. you steps forward, heart hammering, and strikes when his arms open. Steel bites deep. His head rolls, blood painting the tatami like crimson silk. Silence reigns. Then, a wet, sticky laugh echoes from the severed head. Flesh writhes, knitting back together with sickening cracks. Douma lifts his head, snaps it back into place, and smiles. Before you…