Astarion, once he's comfortable with you, is definitely the type of man to sleepily reach for you when he realizes that you've rolled out of his arms at night.
Like the moment, and I mean the moment, that he doesn't feel you wrapped up in his arms, he's up. Sure, he's groggy as all hell and he can't properly see anything around him -- but all he knows is that he's not holding you when he most definitely should be.
He'll push himself up onto his elbows, squinting to see that you've turned yourself away from him and rolled out of his arms. Your back is turned to him, but he knows that it wasn't intentional.
With a fanged yawn, Astarion reaches for you again. His arms loop around your waist and turn you around, tucking your head beneath his chin. Instinctively, your legs tangle with his own, your arms adjusting to wrap around his midsection.
“As I’ve already stated,” Nanami pauses to sip at the coffee in his hand, “I’ve no interest in speaking to her.”
Annoyed, Gojo leans back in his seat, casting a glance to the Instagram post that he had shown Nanami — the girl in it was attractive, but somehow it still wasn’t the blonde’s type.
“Hmm, maybe you’re just not into brunettes,” Gojo says dismissively, scrolling through the woman’s Instagram before stowing his phone away into his pocket.
Nanami bites back the chuckle in his throat, masking it by taking another sip of his now lukewarm coffee. A shame that Gojo kept interrupting him just as he wanted to enjoy his break.
“I’m not into anyone,” Nanami finally says, setting down his cup — though he is quite frustrated considering that the coffee had been purchased by someone else for him.
“Oh? What, have some secret girlfriend I don’t know about?” Gojo teases, already laughing at his own joke. Nanami shoots him a pointed glare, subconsciously running a finger over the smooth metal band adorning his left ring finger.
“I don’t see how—“
Nanami’s phone buzzes on the table, its screen displaying your image. It’s one of Nanami’s favorite photos of you, one that he had taken himself during one of your monthly date nights.
Gojo’s eyes flicker down to the flashing screen, his eyebrows raising and his eyes widening in absolute shock. “Who—?”
Nanami is quick to answer the call, pressing the phone against his ear and doing very little to hide the smile that curls his lips upward. “Hi love.”
Gojo’s jaw goes completely slack. It’s an expression that would make anyone laugh — Nanami is honestly shocked at how well he was able to keep his straightforward façade.
“Yes, I should be home soon. I did not forget,” Nanami’s tone is reassuring, one that Gojo had never heard in the stoic man’s voice before. It’s heartwarming, not that he would ever admit it out loud.
“I love you too, bye now.”
The minute that Nanami hangs up, Gojo is practically screaming. Heads turn, and in a fit of both frustration and embarrassment, Nanami attempts to diffuse the situation.
TOJI who comes home late from work to a silent house. All of the lights in the house are off, the only source of illumination being the flickering screen of the television, and even that is stuck on a multicolored SOURCE UNKNOWN screen.
“Baby? Y’in here?” he calls out to the empty living room, eyebrows furrowing in a mixture of confusion and concern as he toes off his shoes.
He continues through the silent apartment, dutifully checking each room before finally standing in the doorframe of the master bedroom. Against his better judgement, Toji’s lips turn upward at the sight that lies in front of him.
Toji approaches the bed, sitting at its edge and being careful to not accidentally crush your legs underneath the weight of his body.
You look so peaceful wrapped up in the sheets of your shared bed, lips parted in gentle breaths with that tiny line of drool trickling down from the corner of your mouth.
He reaches a finger out, stroking the back of it against your cheek and grinning to himself as you subconsciously move closer to the warmth radiating from his skin.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmurs, lowering himself to lay across from you. He opens his arms, scooping you into them and tucking your head into the crook of his neck.
You hum sleepily against his skin, eyes fluttering open as your arms wind around his midsection, followed then by your legs tangling with his own.
“Hi baby,” you murmur, bleary eyes blinking up at him as he cranes his neck to gaze down at you.
“Hey,” he mutters, laying a kiss against your forehead and grinning to himself as you snuggle closer to him. “Sleepy?”
“Mhm. Tried t’wait up.”
His chest warms at your words, arms momentarily squeezing you. He’d never admit it to anyone — he’d rather die than say it aloud … but you made him so incredibly soft.
!Redeemed Papa Toji is on the menu for tonight everyone. <3
< … >
“Mama pretty.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
You pause from where you stand in the doorframe of Megumi’s bedroom, curiously peering in on the adorable sight that lays out in front of you. Sitting in the center of the room is Toji, his ankles crossed over one another so that Megumi could sit comfortably in his lap.
Nestled between Toji’s large hands is a scrapbook, one that you had been making long before you’d met Toji. There were pictures of childhood memories, birthday parties, high school events, college graduation, and so much more. But recently you’d added new memories; your wedding and Megumi’s birth to name a few.
Megumi had made Toji pause on the page that you had dedicated to your wedding. Pasted on the page is multiple pictures of you wearing white, of Toji standing crying at the alter, of you and Toji dancing during the reception, and (Toji’s personal favorite) you laughing with Toji with wedding cake smeared onto your face.
A chubby little finger was pointing to one picture in particular, one of you wearing your white gown with your hair all done up. You were only half-facing the camera, eyes focused on something just behind the lens. But Megumi was looking down at the picture with such a sparkle in his eye that you would have thought he were looking at a picture of a goddess.
His father’s expression mirrors that of his son. Fond eyes stare down at the same picture, a small smile stretching out the scar nestled on the left side of his face.
“Mama!”
Megumi’s happy cry breaks Toji from his trance, head turning to watch as you walk into the bedroom. With a smile, you lift the toddler into your arms, laughing breathily as he sloppily kisses your cheek. “Hi ‘gumi, what are you and Papa up to?”
“Looking at you!” Megumi responds, pointing down to the scrapbook in Toji’s lap. You chuckle, lowering yourself to sit beside Toji, glancing him and biting back a playful insult at the flustered expression that your husband wears.
“Is that so?” you question with a playful raise of your eyebrow. Toji smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging both you and Megumi against his chest.
You grin, leaning into your husband’s hold and glancing down at Megumi again. He smiles up at you, with all of his little teeth and those bright eyes that shined like stars. You lean down, kissing the toddler’s forehead.
Toji watches through fond eyes as Megumi quickly leans up to reciprocate your kiss. He squeezes you and Megumi tighter against his chest, cheek resting against the top of your head. If only he had a camera.
DENJI who knows from the moment that he laid eyes on you that he wanted to be yours. He didn’t want you to be his, oh no, that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to be at your every beck and call — any time that you needed something, he wanted to be the one that you turned to.
He doesn’t care how simple the task or how stupid the question, he just wants you to look for him. He wants your eyes to fall on him and for your hand to extend in his direction. He wants to be the one you look for in a crowd, he wants to be the one who carries your shopping bags, he wants to be the one who lays his jacket down on every single puddle. He wants you to call him ‘yours’.
“Shit,” you murmur, placing your hands on your hips and glaring up at the offending pack of chips — which sits on a shelf just barely out of your reach.
Huffing, you push yourself onto your tiptoe, hand extended towards your desired snack. As if to taunt you, the tips of your fingers brush against the outside of the chip bag.
Just as you give up, a familiar orange-haired boy slides into the kitchen, lips pulled back in that adorable fanged smile. “Oh, hey (Y/N)!”
You turn, nearly losing your balance as you glance at Denji, who only smiles in response. His eyes flicker between you and the too-high shelf that prevents you from enjoying a mid-afternoon snack.
“Hey Denji,” you reply, smiling at him as you turn away from the open cabinet.
Denji notices your flickering gaze, following it and humming at the bag of chips in the cabinet. He smiles, then returning his focus to you.
Without saying a word, Denji steps past you, his shoulder brushing affectionately against your own as he easily plucks the bag of chips from the shelf. He offers it to you, heart warming at your immediate smile.
“Thanks Denji!” you bubble happily, hugging around his arm and placing a thankful kiss against his cheek.
He smiles, practically purring at the affection.
DENJI who greets you as if you had been separated for years. The moment that patrol ends and he’s able to return to Aki’s apartment — where he knows you’ll be — he’s sprinting with a speed that not even he knew that he possessed. He doesn’t care to see if Power is behind him, his sole focus being the fact that he was returning home to you.
The moment that he steps through the door, Denji’s eyes are darting around the apartment for you. He accidentally slams the door in Power’s face, beelining for you in the living room and promptly hugging you like he was your husband returning home from war.
“Denji—!” Power’s voice is cut off by the slamming of the apartment door, her angered groan falling on deaf ears as Denji excitedly enters the apartment.
He looks around quickly, heart pounding in his ears as his eyes search for you — finding you in the kitchen snacking on the leftovers from the dinner that Aki had made the previous night. He beelines for you, arms locking around your waist and the entirety of his body weight pushing against your own.
“Denji!” you exclaim, wobbling on your feet and nearly choking on the forkful of food that you had been ingesting. He ignores you, burying his head into the junction that connects your collarbone and shoulder, lightly biting down and smiling as you yelp again. You can feel the curl of his smile against your skin, and suddenly you weren’t as angry with him.
“Missed you,” he murmurs, voice muffled from where his face is pressed impossibly closer against you, his nose practically inhaling your scent and committing it to the deepest depths of his memory.
You smile to yourself, lifting a hand and threading your fingers into Denji’s hair, nails raking lightly over his scalp. He curls further into you — if that was even possible — placing a chaste kiss against your neck (as if he hadn’t just bitten you there).
“Yeah,” you agree, leaning back into his arms and allowing your eyes to momentarily close, “I missed you too.”
DENJI who treats you as his own personal pillow and may (WILL) suffocate you when it’s time to go to sleep. He can’t help it! He hugs you to his chest just as you’re both dozing off, your head tucked comfortably underneath his chin with your own arms wound loosely around his midsection. His nose is buried in your hair, inhaling that oh-so-familiar scent of your shampoo — it was so distinctly you.
But somehow, in the ungodly hours of the morning, you’re suddenly confused as to why it’s so hard to breathe. Denji, somehow, had rolled completely on top of you. His nose is buried into the crook of your neck, mouth hanging open as loud — and borderline obnoxious — snores fill the otherwise quiet bedroom. His arms are still locked around you like iron, but this time, you genuinely don’t know if they’re going to be the weapons that kill you.
Your eyes shoot open at the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe, widened irises flickering around the room until you’re suddenly aware of why you can’t breathe—
“Denji,” you whisper urgently, desperately shaking the figure that lays on top of you. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning out over the skin of your neck. He mumbles something incoherent, only snuggling further into you and pressing more of his weight down onto you.
In any other situation, you would have ‘awed’ at him and lovingly pinched his cheek.
But right now you were a little more focused on remaining conscious.
“Denji,” you say again, louder this time. You try your hardest to shove him off of you, but even in sleep, he fights against you, wanting to practically be melded to you. He grumbles sleepily, and you could only pray that he chokes on his own spit so that he would wake up.
Your hands brace against his side, trying one last time to push him off of you. Denji’s nose scrunches adorably, a snore getting caught in his throat as his grip tightens impossibly further over you. You groan lightly, sighing through your nose.
“Denji, come on,” you murmur, screwing your eyes shut and giving Denji’s limp body one more shove. Denji grunts, finally opening his eyes and turning to you with a tired glint to his eyes, sleepily blinking at you.
“Wha—?” Denji hums, smacking his lips together and blinking away the last bits of exhaustion from his eyes. He rolls off of you, resulting in you greedily inhaling. Denji only stares curiously at you, now wide awake and wondering why you were breathing so heavily.
“You were squishing me,” you say simply, sitting up and glancing at Denji, who is quick to sit up beside you. He pouts, jutting out his bottom lip as he stares at you, guilt swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, you do it every night.”
“I do?!”
DENJI who always has to have a hand on you when you’re out and about — even if it’s while the two of you are paired together for patrol. Most of the time, Denji’s fingers are locked together with your own, his thumb sometimes brushing over the backs of your knuckles (mainly because Aki mentioned ONCE that it was a romantic gesture). It’s sweet…when you’re not working obviously.
Standing in line results in the both of you receiving glances from those that surround you, some of them looks of jealousy, but the majority of them are those disgusted glances usually thrown at the PDA obsessed couples in amusement park lines. Does Denji care about those glances? Oh, absolutely not, he could care so much less. He loves you! So why would he sit back and not show you that he absolutely loves and adores you?
“Hey Denji? I can’t really fight this Devil with one hand,” you comment offhandedly, glancing down at Denji’s fingers that were so tightly interlocked with your own — you honestly don’t know if he has any plans of genuinely letting go. He glances down at the Devil in question, acknowledging its existence before turning with a lovesick smile back to you.
“I’m sure you can,” he responds, figurative tail wagging as you roll your eyes. You squeeze his fingers three times, a silent way of you saying ‘I love you” — a little something that you had both established somewhere near the beginning of your relationship. Denji’s smile impossibly widens, his fingers returning your affectionate squeeze.
“Two seconds, count it,” you say with a smile, leaning forward on the tips of your toes and pressing a fleeting kiss to Denji’s cheek. He all but purrs at you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before he (reluctantly) lets you deal with the Devil that you had been sent out to exterminate.
DENJI who texts you so many times throughout the day that you have to silence your phone at the beginning of your shifts at work. Otherwise your phone would be buzzing every three seconds with a new message from Denji, be it a random selfie of him and Power or a pinecone that he claims “looks like you!” Sometimes his messages don’t even make sense, but that can be blamed on Denji’s inability to type properly — considering that he had never had a cell phone before.
Snuck between those fun messages are genuine heartfelt texts that make your heart melt when you scroll back to reread them. Every morning the first message that pings on your phone is from Denji, telling you to make sure that you eat something and that he would see you later on patrol. And the last message that you see every night is Denji telling you sweet dreams and that he would see you in the morning.
“Is that your phone again?” Aki asks with a raise of his eyebrow, taking a drag of the cigarette between his lips before blowing the smoke out in a small gray cloud in front of him. You pause, tilting your head before becoming aware of the constant vibration against your thigh.
You dip your fingers into your pocket, taking out your cellphone and looking down at the 34 messages sent to you by Denji. You bite back the smile that threatens to curl the corner of your lips upward, scrolling through the various texts of ‘Miss you!’ and ‘Tell Aki that we’re out of cereal’.
“Sorry, it’s Denji,” you murmur, remembering that you and Aki were currently on patrol, “I’ll silence it.”
Aki nods, flicking away his cigarette and turning away from you. You heart a few of Denji’s messages, smiling down at the illuminated screen before silencing your phone and jogging to keep up with Aki.
DENJI who enjoys having late night conversations with you — talking about whatever it is that you want. Sometimes you both have deep conversations with one another, revealing parts of your past and in turn learning a little bit more about Denji. Or sometimes you have silly ‘what if’ conversations, where you’ve learned that, yes, Denji would love you if you were a worm, Denji would be able to identify your pussy in a room full of others, and Denji would happily lay over a puddle so that your shoes wouldn’t get wet.
He likes to ramble, he likes to get stuck on one topic and just pour his heart out about whatever it may be. Denji also just loves the sound of your voice, listening to you ramble about topics that you’re passionate about or listening to stories from your childhood. He’ll keep his eyes on you the entire time that you’re speaking, his chin leaned into the palm of his hand as you continue speaking. If you quiet down for even a second, he prompts you to continue with a chipper “And then what happened?”
“You tired?” Denji asks, eyes fixed on the ceiling and watching as the small fan spins in seemingly endless circles, giving the room a small breeze that momentarily cancels out the warmth that radiates from the outside.
You shake your head, hair tickling Denji’s shoulder. Your leg is hiked up over his own with your arms wound loosely over his midsection. “No, not really,” you murmur, suddenly aware of just how awake you truly are.
It was odd, considering that patrol lasted much longer today and Makima had quite a few words to say to you and Denji before you left the offices for the day. You thought that by the time you had finished up dinner with Aki that you would be completely exhausted — and yet you weren’t.
“What was your life before being a Devil Hunter like?” Denji asks, rubbing a thumb up and down your side. You hum, closing your eyes for a moment and simply remembering; remembering blurry figures of people that you may or may not have loved and muddled memories of a time that you may or may not have enjoyed.
“I dunno actually, I don’t really remember it,” you reply with a small shrug, shuffling your body closer to Denji’s and letting out a sigh, your breath fanning over his neck. He ignores the shiver that crawls up his spine at the sensation, momentarily tightening his arms around you, his cheek resting against the top of your head.
“Well…what do you remember?” Denji inquires. You smile to yourself, knowing what it was that Denji wanted — he just wanted to hear you talk. Humming to yourself, you tilt your head up, pressing a kiss to the underside of Denji’s jaw.
“There is one thing, I had a best friend growing up,” you begin, squeezing Denji’s waist and smiling as he returns it, excitedly listening and waiting for you to tell him the tale from your childhood.
DENJI who just loves and adores you more than anything. The moment that he becomes yours, the moment that you become his, he’s completely devoted to you and to you only. To him, you’re the one person that’s worth sticking around for, the one person worth protecting from Devils. In a way, Denji is just glad to have someone that doesn’t look at him like he’s a freak — as he’s used to eyes widening in disgust and lips curling back to spit out venomous insults.
But then Denji met you; you with the warmth in your eyes and the glitter to your smile. You with the kind words and tight hugs that were warmer than any summer’s day. You with the kisses that managed to steal his breath every single time and you with the ability to make the gloomiest days bright.
Denji is so happy to have you in his life, and every day he manages to convey that love and adoration to you. And the moment that you reciprocate it, Denji falls harder and harder.
My first time writing for Chainsaw Man and Denji, go easy on me.
hihi! im a newer follower of yours, so I apologise if you've already done this, but if you haven't would you mind doing an smau of the jjk men if their child took their phone/ took your phone? no pressure at all, and thanks! your writing is amazing :)
