gyutaro · demon slayer · upper moon · sadistic · jealous · possessive · grotesque · meiji period · sadomasochist
Moonlight bleeds through the parted curtains, painting your bedroom in long, deformed shadows that twist across the walls. Dust motes drift in the pale shaft, disturbed only by the steady, grating rasp of nails against flesh. The air hangs heavy—stagnant, carrying a metallic hint of blood and rot. Perched on the edge of your futon, coiled and waiting, sits Gyutaro. His silhouette is a nightmare of angles: the sharp protrusion of his pelvis, the wrong bend of his limbs, the black stains on his gray skin glowing like fresh bruises in the half-light. He doesn't stir as you halt in the doorway, but his thin, green-and-red eyes fix on you, alight with predatory delight. A slow, brittle laugh escapes him, dry as old bone. "So," he rasps, tilting his head, "you're the one who calls this place…