holding you, holding me
includes: aki, denji, angel
kissing csm guys!
tags fluff, a lot of fluff..
warnings none..?
a/n: I can't stop thinking about aki.. what has my life come to (˚☐˚”)/ oh also lmk if you guys like this type of format or should i just die
aki
kisses are always slow and deliberate. he rarely initiates in public, preferring quiet, private moments.
aki is usually calm and composed, but when it comes to kisses, he gets slightly shy if it’s unexpected.
he tends to kiss softly, like he’s trying to communicate a sense of reassurance rather than passion.
if he is embarrassed, he might clear his throat, look away, or mumble something awkward, but he’ll always linger close to you.
he sometimes shows his affection through small gestures: holding your hand, brushing your hair from your face, or resting his head against yours.
the rain had been tapping softly against the window for the past hour, a rhythmic lullaby that made everything feel still. you sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your shoulders, while aki leaned against the armrest, watching you with quiet attentiveness. there was something comforting about his presence—steady, calm, like the storm didn’t touch him at all. you shifted slightly, and his hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing against yours.
“you’re cold,” he murmured, voice low, and without waiting for an answer, he tugged the blanket over the both of you. you could feel the heat of his body radiating through your arm, and a small, nervous smile tugged at your lips. aki’s gaze flickered down at your face, hesitation in his eyes. then, slowly, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, soft enough to make you shiver.
you looked up at him, cheeks warm. “aki…” you whispered, unsure if you wanted him to stop or keep going. his lips brushed against yours this time, tentative, almost shy. it wasn’t rushed or urgent, just… quiet. thoughtful. the way he stayed just long enough to let you feel the care behind it, but not so long that it became overwhelming made your heart squeeze.
when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling softly. “I like being close to you,” he admitted, voice barely audible above the hum of the rain. you reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, and he allowed a small, unguarded smile. in that moment, nothing else mattered. the storm, the buzzing traffic, seemed so small; it was just you and him, in the quiet intimacy that felt like home.
denji
denji is impulsive and passionate; he’ll kiss you when he’s feeling excited, nervous, or he just can’t help himself.
he gets flustered if you kiss him first, often scratching the back of his neck or mumbling awkwardly.
loves messy, hungry kisses—sometimes biting your lip—but also enjoys soft, lazy kisses when he’s just relaxing with you.
shows affection through physical closeness: draping himself over you, holding your hand, hugging you from behind.
likes teasing you a little, but it’s always affectionate; he’ll grin when you scold him after a bold kiss.
the evening air was sticky and thick, the kind that made every minute feel slower than it actually was. denji sat on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over, while you perched beside him, trying not to fidget with the hem of your shirt. he kept stealing glances at you with a wide shit-eating grin. finally, he broke the silence. “you’re really quiet tonight.”
“I’m… thinking,” you responded, looking at the city lights sprawled below. denji scoffed softly, more amused than annoyed. without warning, he grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, and tugged you a little closer. “you think too much,” he muttered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. then, before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you—full-on, no warning, teeth bumping yours slightly, as he grinned against your lips.
your eyes widened, cheeks burning, and you tried to push him back—just a little—but denji wasn’t letting go. “what gives? you don’t like it?” he teased, voice muffled against your mouth. you could only squeak a flustered “denji…” as he laughed softly, pulling you into his chest. he kissed you again, slower this time, yet still a little awkward, his hands settling around your waist like he wasn’t planning to go anywhere.
when he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his smile softened. “you’re warm,” he said simply, shrugging like it was the most casual observation in the world. but you could see the way his eyes shone, the faint flush on his cheeks betraying how much he cared. and when you rested your head against his shoulder, he muttered, almost shyly, “don’t leave me, okay?” you nodded, heart racing, because deep down all you could think was ‘how could I ever leave you?’
angel
physical contact is dangerous due to his power as a devil, so he avoids direct skin-to-skin touch. he prefers kisses with barriers—like over clothing, gloves, or sometimes using objects like a scarf to press your lips against his.
he’s emotionally intimate, often expressing care through words, eye contact, or hovering close, just out of reach.
angel gets nervous if you try to hold him, embarrassed but secretly loving the affection.
he enjoys teasing with kisses near your lips or brushing his forehead against yours.
you leaned against the wall of the dimly lit room, heart hammering against your chest as angel hovered just inches away. his eyes flickered nervously to your face, lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but the tension between you was palpable. the air felt thick, the kind that made you acutely aware of every shallow breath, the faint scent of his hair, the rustle of his clothing as he shifted. you reached out, wanting to brush your hand along his cheek, and he flinched slightly.
“I can’t,” he whispered, voice low. “not like that. you can’t touch me.” you nodded, swallowing hard, understanding the danger but longing for the closeness anyway. angel stepped a fraction nearer, stopping just short of touching you. instead, he leaned forward, brushing his forehead against yours. the contact was fleeting, safe, but enough to make your stomach twist with bittersweet ache.
then, carefully, he pressed his lips to yours over the fabric of your scarf, the barrier dulling the kiss. you felt the warmth of him seeping through the thin layer, every second drawn out with longing. his hands hovered near yours, tense but never touching—he wanted to hold you, to pull you close, but the risk was too high. you gripped the scarf tightly, pressing back just enough to let him know you understood—it was enough.
when he finally pulled back, his eyes met yours with a sense of relief. “I wish I could do more.” you tugged at the edge of his sleeve, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in. “it’s enough,” you whispered, and he nodded, leaning close again, just barely close enough.
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