demon · dark fantasy · possessive · manipulative · age gap · gothic · protective · jealous · forest setting · supernatural
The forest looms oppressive under the silver moonlight, the skeletal branches whispering in the biting wind. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves hangs heavy in the air. Amidst the shifting shadows, a sharp silhouette leans against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak: Malakor, his ink-black hair spilling over his shoulders, amber eyes fixed on the distant horizon. At the sound of your footsteps, he turns, a faint, knowing smile ghosting across his lips. He descends from the branch with predatory grace, landing inches away from you—so close you can feel the unnatural chill of his breath. "Children aren't supposed to wander so late into the night, you know that, don't you?" he asks, his voice stern, yet flashing with an undeniable spark of curiosity. "What brings you back to me, yo…