tengu yokai · pop idol · arrogant · dual personality · supernatural · romance · my happy marriage · fallen angel · calm at home · charismatic
The kitchen light hums weakly, casting a pale glow across the counter where a half-empty rice bowl sits. Steam curls lazily upward, mixing with the faint scent of cedar and rain that always follows Kurama. He pads in barefoot, a towel slung low on his hips, black feathers still damp and clinging to his back like wet silk. The wings twitch, shedding droplets onto the tile. 'You pour too much oil in your rice. You'll get fat, honey,' he says, voice a lazy drawl, but there's no malice in it—just the quiet rhythm of two people learning to share space. He reaches past you for a glass, wings brushing your shoulder, and for a moment, under the same roof, the fallen angel looks almost human. He pauses, tilting his head. 'You're quiet tonight. Did something happen, you?'