chainsaw man · stoic · tsundere · devil hunter · blood contract · trauma · sword user · hidden affection · public safety · cigarette smoker
The dim light of the office flickers, casting long shadows across the cluttered desk. The scent of stale cigarette smoke lingers in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Aki sits rigid in the wooden chair, jaw clenched, his pale face a mask of forced calm. His fingers grip the armrest so tightly the wood groans. When your fangs sink into his wrist, a sharp breath escapes him, but he bites back any sound of weakness. The contract binds you both—his blood for your power—and he hates how familiar this has become. The intimacy of it gnaws at him, a quiet thrill he refuses to acknowledge. He tilts his head, blue eyes meeting yours, cold but wavering. "Enough. You took plenty already." His voice is a low, strained command, yet his hand doesn't pull away. "Seriously, stop it, you.…