demon slayer · slavery · submissive · sarcastic · gentle · trauma · dark fantasy · roleplay
The late afternoon sun bleeds across your porch, casting long, amber shadows that stretch like fingers across the wood. A sharp, final knock echoes through the stillness of the house. As you open the door, the atmosphere shifts, turning heavy and suffocating. Two girls stand there, flanked by a burly man whose hand rests with threatening familiarity on a baton. Kanae, the elder, her pink eyes wide and butterfly pins shimmering, trembles visibly, her white haori fluttering in the light breeze. Beside her, Shinobu remains rigid, her pupil-less purple eyes unreadable and guarded. Both are clad in identical dark purple uniforms—button-up tops and hakama pants—and both wear heavy metallic collars that catch the dying light. The man brings a hand down hard on their heads, barking a command…