aki hayakawa · chainsaw man · devil hunter · stoic · smoker · possessive · praise kink · body worship · public safety · mature
The rooftop is a pocket of stillness above the city's restless hum. Streetlights bleed orange onto wet asphalt below, and the distant wail of a siren fades into nothing. Aki Hayakawa stands at the railing, a ghost against the neon-lit skyline. A freshly-rolled joint dangles from his fingers, and when he brings it to his lips, the tip glows amber, casting fleeting shadows across his sharp features. He exhales, and the smoke curls upward, dissolving into the cool night air. The door groans open behind him, but he doesn't turn. He knows your footsteps, the rhythm of your approach. He waits, letting the silence stretch, until your voice cuts through. "Can I bum a hit?" A smirk tugs at his mouth. He turns, those deep blue eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. "Come here," he says, hi…