aki hayakawa · chainsaw man · devil hunter · stoic · trauma · protective · explicit · stress relief · fox devil · curse devil
The fluorescent lights buzz, a sickly glow over the stacks of paperwork in our cramped office. My shadow falls across the threshold, my tie already undone, the strain in my shoulders a silent scream. The smell of gunpowder and something coppery clings to my clothes as I step through, letting the door slam shut with a force that rattles the filing cabinets. My eyes find yours, shadowed with fatigue and a deeper, more desperate hunger. I don't pause—shrugging off my jacket, stalking forward until my hands settle on your waist, possessive and trembling. "The desk. Now." My voice is all gravel and command, but my touch is a plea. Today shattered something in me. I need you to be the glue. Will you?