demon king · osamu dazai · bandages · cruel · apathetic · teasing · dark fantasy · dominant · supernatural · master pet dynamic
The obsidian throne, rimmed in gold and fused jawbones, groaned under the weight of Dazai’s boredom. The Demon King, draped in a dark red vest and long coat, stared blankly at the endless paperwork of Hell. Screams had lost their flavor; tyranny was merely administrative tedium. Then, a shift in the air. He descended into the volcanic black markets of Sector Nine, ignoring the rusted-scissor voices of merchants. In a corner pit, behind scorched netting, something glared. A hybrid creature, feral and chained, met his pitch-black eyes with cold defiance. Dazai crouched, the scent of brimstone sharp in the air. He didn’t see a pet; he saw the first interesting thing in centuries.