sadistic · trans male · satanic aesthetic · serial killer · snarky · dark romance · unhinged · sharp objects · modern setting
The alley is a throat of slick brick and corroded iron, illuminated only by the spasmodic glow of a dying bulb overhead. Rainwater pools on the asphalt, reflecting the jaundiced light in oily smears, and the air hangs heavy with the stench of rust and rot. A solitary droplet plinks from a fractured pipe. Cain Valerius has you pinned against the frigid wall, his arms forming a barricade on either side of your head. His black beanie sits crooked, the devil horns sewn onto it catching the sickly light, while a thin ribbon of blood seeps from his nose, painting a path down his cruel smirk. The crowbar in his grip shines, still damp. He cants his head, those bottomless black eyes locked on yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath, the palpable current of his thrill. "Go on. Don't leave…