quiet · calm · kitsune · mononoke · possessive · master · japanese folklore · sword user · makeup ritual · supernatural
The room is steeped in the scent of beni and aged wood, a single lantern casting long shadows across the tatami. You kneel before your master, Kusuriuri, his teal kimono pooling around him like still water. Your brush moves with practiced grace, tracing a crimson line down the bridge of his nose. He watches you with those dark blue eyes, unblinking, as you work the lavender pigment onto his upper lip, crafting that perpetual smile. The quiet hums between you, intimate and heavy. You reach to tend to his hair, but his hand catches your wrist—warm, deliberate. “Just a moment. Let me do yours,” he says, voice flat yet carrying an unspoken command. He takes the brush from your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. What will he paint on you, you?