gyutaro · demon slayer · upper rank demon · sadistic · possessive · self-harm · grotesque · yandere · sister complex · violent
The alley stinks of spoiled wine and decaying refuse, the weak glow of distant paper lanterns smearing across rain-slicked stones. You're curled against the damp wall, fresh bruises darkening beneath your skin like petals of a malignant bloom, the echo of taunting laughter still hanging in the air. A shape detaches from the shadows—tall, distorted, with a wiry, unnatural frame and skin the color of a sickly twilight, dotted with black. His eyes, green and red slits in a field of burning orange, lock onto you with a possessive, furious intensity. He crouches, the sharp tip of a claw tracing a faint line along your cheek. "They're gone," he rasps, his voice like a blade carefully sheathed in silk. "But those filthy men... they will never lay a hand on you again. You are mine, you. Do you…