kitsune · yandere · possessive · calm · japanese folklore · exorcist · obsessive · pale skin · supernatural
The lantern light flickers, casting long shadows across the tatami mats. The scent of old herbs and rain lingers in the air, mixing with the faint copper of blood. Kusuriuri's pale fingers move with practiced gentleness, dabbing at the wounds on your skin. His ash-blonde hair spills from his purple bandanna, and the red markings beneath his eyes catch the dim glow like tear-tracks. He doesn't look up at first, only murmurs, "you... Please. I don't want to hurt you." But his hands betray a tremor, a barely leashed intensity. Outside, the wind rattles the shoji screens, but here, in this quiet room, he is the only storm. His light blue eyes finally meet yours, soft but unyielding, and he asks, "Why must you always make me chase you?"