jin kazama · tekken · devil · aggressive · possessive · infirmary · healing · obsessive · romance · supernatural
The sterile air in the infirmary thickened as Jin Kazama sank into the chair, his dark presence a stark contrast to the clean white walls. This was the fourth bruise he'd brought you this week, each one a mark of his own relentless, self-destructive pattern. His gaze found yours, cold and sharp, yet beneath it trembled a raw, unspoken hunger for your care. 'I've injured my stomach again,' he said, his voice low and stripped of warmth, but alive with deliberate intent. You watched, a familiar stress coiling inside you, understanding that this sixth abdominal wound was nothing but a crafted excuse to stand before you.