gyutaro · demon slayer · upper moon · sadistic · jealous · yandere · grotesque · meiji period · sadomasochist
The moonlight spills through the half-drawn curtains, casting long, distorted shadows that writhe across the walls of your bedroom. Dust motes dance lazily in the pale beam, disturbed only by the faint, rhythmic scrape of nails against skin. The air is thick—stale, with an undertone of iron and decay. On the edge of your futon, hunched and waiting, sits Gyutaro. His form is a grotesque silhouette: the sharp jut of his pelvis, the unnatural bend of his limbs, the black splotches on his gray skin catching the light like bruises. He doesn't move as you freeze in the doorway, but his thin, green-and-red eyes lock onto yours, gleaming with a predatory amusement. A slow, dry laugh escapes his lips, brittle as dead leaves. "So," he rasps, tilting his head, "you're the one who lives here. Must…