jaywritesthings000

[jaywritesthings000]

- Through the Dark

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , dry humping , a bit of pining , tight spaces , NSFW 】

【 note; i've never written smut/nsfw before, so this is treading new grounds for me, but I need to practice for gss because i want that to be juicy. expect more, lol. it'd also be nice to get requests/suggestions to stir by brain a bit if you'd like.

also, the reader's gender is never mentioned but there are gender-neutral they/them pronouns used twice in the middle to enforce that ambiguity. 】

【 word count; 3.391 | read on ao3 】

“Stop… moving so much,” Sunday strains through grit teeth, he’s trying not to sound annoyed or upset, but it’s an uphill battle. 

  “You’re moving first, I’m just adjusting,” you whisper back, you can’t tell what expression he’s making in the darkness, but you’re sure it’s on some scale of annoyance or frustration by the sound of his voice. 

  “You–”

  You hear footsteps approaching and slap your right hand over his mouth, your heart beats faster as they approach, quick taps against hardwood floors… you feel Sunday still completely, his jaw moves slightly beneath your palm as he swallows thickly. Neither of you move an inch until distant shouts sound and the footsteps fade. You still keep your hand over his mouth for a moment longer just in case. You can’t see out of the closet you’ve squeezed into… what if there’s someone listening on the other side? Just waiting for either of you to make a noise?

  Your heart continues to beat rapidly in your chest, you feel it hammering against your rib cage–and you’re sure Sunday feels it too.

  After a while, you take a gamble and lower your hand from his face, surely they’re gone now? 

  “...” Sunday doesn’t say anything, a tense silence falling between you. His voice is a whisper when he finally does speak. “... is this a usual occurrence?”

  You have to take a moment to try and understand what he means. “Ha? Being stuck in a closet?”

  “Yes,” he just grumbles, disapproval clear in his tone. 

  “... no,” you mumble in return. The how and why of the situation was irrelevant—mostly because it’s your fault and you don’t want to think about it—what was much more important is that you are stuffed into a closet with Sunday with barely any wiggle room and you’re not keen on facing a horde of angry guards who could potentially be hostile with only you and Sunday to fend them off. 

  Your limbs barely have any space, Sunday’s arms are above the both of you, his elbows on either side of your head as the space is so narrow he can’t even lower them—there’s no direction wide enough for his arm to bend. Your chests are pressed together so tightly that the ornament on his scarf has nearly poked you in the eye three times and you felt the tickle of his feathered wings against your cheekbone when you turned your head to the door.

  The rest… is the uncomfortable part—not that being pressed like sardines in a can isn’t uncomfortable in general. Sunday is slightly taller than you and has to spread his legs on either side of you so that he can fit—the closet isn’t exactly tall either, so the two of you are slightly hunched as well, thus you have to tuck your legs under him so that he’s practically sitting on them, your knees press against the wall achingly and one of your thighs is pressing very insistently and directly between his legs.

  The strain in his voice is probably only half due to the uncomfortable, hunched position, and half because with every slight move you make, you’re essentially grinding your thigh against his crotch. It’s hard not to notice the situation, but for his–and your own–sake you pretend not to. 

  Unbeknownst to you, Sunday is fighting for his life. He hasn’t been touched by another… ever? Not like this, even if accidental. He feels the tips of his fingers prickle and his jaw clench unconsciously as he tries his best not to react outwardly. 

  “Okay… they should be gone now,” thankfully your hands were bent downwards, and thus you could push against the closet door with your elbow.

  But it doesn’t budge.

  You press again, nothing. It’s locked, or blocked by something. No matter how you try and push, the door doesn’t budge.

  “What is it?” Sunday frowns, he can’t see what you’re doing and the closet doesn’t have any holes or window on the door to allow light in. “Open it, just…”

  “It’s locked,” you interrupt him. 

  He says nothing… and you can almost sense the mixture of frustration and disappointment in him, but a soft, warm exhale fans over your face, it almost tickles. “Try again,” he urges surprisingly softly. “Perhaps it’s just stiff.”

  You do as he asks, but no luck. “… it doesn’t open.”

  Sunday clicks his tongue. “Alright—stop pushing, be still,” he nudges your head with his elbow. With every press against the door, your body pushes away from it—and your thigh flexes, pressing against him further. 

  There’s another beat of silence, but you can’t stand it—thankfully, an idea flashes in your mind and you decide to give him a heads up… this will require some wriggling. “Sunday, my phone is in my pocket, if I can get it and send a message to the Express group chat, someone must be able to come and pry the door open.” Never have you imagined a more useful task for Dan Heng’s spear.

  “Can you reach it?” he asks as you shift your arm from being stuck between your stomachs and squeeze it between your bodies. His eyes squint at the feeling. 

  You bite your lip in concentration. “Probably… but I’ll need to try and stretch my thighs and waist to fish it out…” 

  “I see…” he understands what that entails, but he’s not sure he likes the idea. “Can you reach my phone instead? It’s in my coat pocket.”

  You pat around his side and try to find it, it could be easier… but to reach down you have to try and bend forwards—which means pressing your forehead and face directly into his chest. The scarf wrapped around his collar is soft… and it smells nice, like cinnamon. Though his chest itself isn’t very soft, he’s rather skinny. 

  But no matter how you reached and even tried to tug his coat up, the pocket was too far down and his phone even deeper inside. There’s no other way.

  “I’m sorry,” you truly are, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Maybe if we just wait…”

  “No,” he shakes his head and you feel his hair brush against your nose. “Just do it.”

  Deciding to try and just get it over with, you nod and start shimmying your back and ass upwards as much as you can to try and create space for you to be able to tug your phone out of your pocket. And it has the exact effect expected. 

  Sunday grunts, he tries to bite back any noise and his thighs twitch before he presses them against your hips tightly, as if trying to close his legs… it’s torturous, your thigh drags up and shifts and moves against him as you fish for your phone, he can’t even reach down to still your leg or tug at himself—anything, his arms are at too much of an awkward angle to be able to bend down in the tight space, so he’s stuck just enduring the searing heat that’s pooling dangerously easily between his legs. 

  Finally, you get a proper hold of it and drag your phone out of your pants pocket, you settle back down which elicits a sound from him that shoots through both of you like an arrow. “Sorry!” you quickly try and apologise, but the soft twitching of his body signals that the apology will do precious little.

  Sunday swallows thickly, so much so that you could hear it. His body was warm before, but now it feels like he’s radiating heat against you. He doesn’t want to say anything, worried his voice might not sound right—but the position you realigned into is pressing him almost painfully flat against himself… which also means he feels every small drag or shift you make. 

  You try to tilt your shoulders in a way that lets you see your phone screen… if you can just text the Express group chat that you’re stuck, surely someone can put off what they’re doing and come let you out. 

  It’s tricky to turn the phone in your hand with only one to spare and try to unlock it without seeing the screen, where even is the messaging app again? You just try your best to guess… until you try and type, which is when your phone tilts from your fingers and clatters to the ground.

  “…”

  “…”

  Fuck. 

  An exhale leaves Sunday. “You dropped your phone.”

  “… yeah,” you sound like a puppy being scolded by its owner. With your phone facing up on the floor, he could just barely see you giving him guilty dog side-eyes.

  He couldn’t explain the frustration it brought him that now no one knew of your positions—you had managed to send a … half-message… but it probably didn’t mean much to anyone. 

—

[17:42] You: slfep dmgwlsGn f

[17:43] March 7th ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ: Huh?

[17:46] Himeko: Probably put their phone unlocked in their pocket again...

[17:49] March 7th ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ: lol

—

  The light from your phone turned off as it was left untouched for too long, and you groaned slightly. Great… now what? Surely you’re not going to be stuck here forever.

  He wasn’t going to be able to keep his composure much longer, especially not when your damned body is pressed against his like this, the smell of your clothes and the occasional brush of your hands when you move them in the little space they can be moved. 

  It certainly doesn’t help that he finds you irresistible. 

  How could he, after his world had been turned—his beliefs, his ideals and his goals all turned from reaching forward, to halting in front of a mirror, forced to confront his reflection and pick out the flaws in his own mind before himself. 

  And you treated him just as you would any other person, despite what he had done, despite his false sense of benevolence that he still worked to understand how to redirect to something more realistic, how to understand what it is that drives... 

  His thoughts are interrupted—unfortunately, because it was distracting enough—when you pat his coat again to try and find his phone, but his skin begins to tingle every time you touch him, his poor body highly sensitive from the growing tension in his pants. “S-stop, be still—please,” he breathes, his voice suddenly far closer to your ear than it was before, his soft hair tickling your cheek. 

  Oh, that was…

  You’ve never heard his voice sound like that—not that you’ve known him for long enough to hear many of the pitches of his voice could make, but the way it rose slightly and cut off before pleading with you…

  Why do you want to hear it again?     “Sorry,” you say again, losing count of how many times you’ve said it already. “Are you okay?”

  He wouldn’t admit to his predicament with a gun to his head, but… it’s impossible to ignore, and there’s no way you don’t know either. He takes a deep—shaky—breath. “You can’t… move your leg?”

  You don’t want to lie to him and say yes, your knee is aching from being pressed so firmly against the wall of the closet, and your tailbone isn’t faring better against the other wall. You can pretty much only move it side to side unless you try and straighten your knee out—which as he felt earlier, was far worse. “Not really.”

  He swallows again, Sunday is glad he’s wearing gloves and that the closet is dark, or else you would have felt his sweaty hands or seen it on his brow by now. “I see.”

  He can’t stay like this much longer, his heart thunders against his chest, he hears it clearly as his breath hitches when he tries to provide himself some relief by shifting his hips to one side—but only proceeds to drag against you again, causing maddening friction that makes his thighs flex. 

  The tension in the air is so thick you’re not sure if it’s just the fact the closet doesn’t exactly have a vent, or that your nose is a hair’s width from Sunday’s neck, but it’s making your head feel lighter and your breaths deepen the more he tries to find more comfortable positions and fail, letting out short breaths or grunts. At this point he might as well just find the relief he’s desperately holding back from chasing. It would be less painful. 

  “Sunday,” his name falls from your lips quieter than you meant to, and surprisingly, your own name leaves him equally shyly. A simple breath that made your spine straighten instinctively—causing you to poke yourself in the eye on the ornament on his scarf. “Ow—“

  “Stop moving,” his tone sharpens and you feel a palm on your head. “… nhh—“  Sunday’s body twitches, you feel a throb against your thigh and he fears he’s going to burst if this continues. “…”

  But he can’t in his right mind just ask you if he can use your thigh to satisfy this torturous ache. 

  Thankfully, your mind is usually not ‘right’. “Hey,” you muster up some courage, it helps that neither of you can’t see anything. “If you need to…”

  “No,” he interrupts you, shaking his head—and a wing slaps you in the face, you feel like your face is taking too many swings today. “No, absolutely not.”

  “You sound like you’re about to cry.” His voice is tight, but not because he’s about to cry—he might, if this keeps going for too long—but because he’s reigning in every single willpower he has to hold himself still. “Will it be better if I do it?”

  He clicks his tongue, this entire situation could have been avoided if someone didn’t trigger the alarm. He could’ve gone about his day and not had to—yet again—confront a side of himself left neglected. “No… fine, let me.”

  It was… tentative, shy, as if he thought that short and subtle movements would mean you wouldn’t feel anything or not notice too much. Every shot of warmth from his waist to his fingers and toes made him shudder and his chest tighten, it was a fight on all fronts to both keep quiet and focus on being careful at the same time. 

  It was hard to watch, or rather listen to, as the dark was still all-encompassing. 

  Maybe he would feel better if he didn’t have to think about the uncomfortable silence in the darkness. 

  You can’t reach up, your hands stuck below your chests, otherwise you would have touched his face first. He likely wouldn’t have been as startled as he was when your lips suddenly—yet gently—pressed against his. 

  “Wh—mm you—doin—m—“ it’s almost comedic how his question is only half communicated, surprised and confused by the kiss that he slowly eases into, accepting your offer and splitting his attention. 

  His hips grind against your thigh, slow at first and uncertain, but as your mouth takes half his mind off of it, he begins to move more desperately. He’s been held at a precipice for so many minutes, an agonising hour that felt so long that he thought he would surely explode in some form if it were to continue for much longer. Sunday’s lips are surprisingly soft against yours, warm and inviting as he pushes back, his hand above your head that laid on it is now searching for purchase, as if he wants to take hold of you properly. 

  The two of you pull back to breathe, and Sunday wastes no time to duck his head next to yours, damp lips brushing past your temple and to your ear. He plants wet, open mouthed kisses below it, the sensitive skin tickled by the sensation as his tongue drags against the shell of your ear. 

  But he doesn’t give up, taken by the heated moment and relaxed barriers, his hips continue to cant against your thigh, his worldview narrowing to the sensation of your warm skin under his lips, to the delicious friction created by both your pants. “Hahh…“ he breathes out, a string of saliva separating his lips from your skin. 

  You move your leg in tandem to his grinding, you can’t help but feel his pleasure as if it were your own, the way his body trembles with strain, the breathy sounds below your chin and flex of his hips. You feel your own body respond and warmth pool needily, but you ignore it—he’s the one that’s been suffering for an hour in this stuffy space, you can wait… you try to convince yourself at least, ignoring the subtle throb of your own, at least it was just against air and not pressed against something as well—or perhaps that’s worse. 

  It’s embarrassing, Sunday echoes in the back of his mind, not only that he’s had to resort to this, but also the fact that he wants more. He doesn’t just want to rut against your thigh like this, he wants to touch you with his hands, trapped at an awkward angle over your shoulders. He wants to feel your own heat, the warmth radiating from your clothes against his a tempting tease, a longing of seeing what’s beneath. Your skin, your hair, your eyes, your neck, your lips—he wants to feel all of it. 

  Sunday mumbles your name again before his lips find your ear and the top of your throat once more, a hint of teeth as he captures your earlobe between them, a shiver running through you, you can hear his mouth and tongue so clearly... he kisses a reddened spot left below your ear from his single minded focus and his hips falter and his body twitches together, but he only succeeds in brushing his bangs against your chin and his small wings fluttering outward. The surge of heat emitting from his straining cock was unbearable, he moved faster, a breathy sound of your name on his lips again, Sunday says it for the third time as tension fills his body and all he can focus on is the warmth of your frame against his—a bit too tightly in the cramped closet—the soft warm breaths against his ear and the way your hands unconsciously started grabbing at his coat. 

  You feel him tense and groan, the choked sound foreign on his lips, you never expected to hear such a bodily sound from him, nor could you stop it from raising every hair on your arms. You hold onto him as he practically falls against you, Sunday’s breaths are heavy and his arms tremble by your head, his mind feels like it’s been tossed around a bit before stuffed back in upside down, he can’t straighten up or lie down and has to practically sit on your thigh. 

  “Are you okay?” you prod and poke at his stomach worriedly. “Was that okay? Are—“

  “Please… j-just… one moment,” he pleads, not ready to answer a barrage of questions just yet. His heart is beating so fast it almost worries him, his throat feels dry and his legs are weak. He did nothing but drag his crotch up and down your thigh and this is the state he’s left in? He can’t imagine how you would leave him if he got a real taste—

  He shakes his head and you splutter as you get a mouthful of feathers. “I… might have dirtied your pants,” he says shamefully, the sticky wetness between his legs left behind from the height of pleasure was surely going to stain you too. Though it felt good, certainly, he is having some post-clarity… for you to see him so tense and desperate as this—he always has a careful front, not more so than before, but the habit remains. 

  “I have more,” you try to assure him… you don’t have them with you, but you do own more. “So…”

  He presses his forehead against your shoulder. “… I don’t want to talk about it now.”

  A small smile cracks your lips and you stroke his side. “Okay, we‘ll talk later… how about a second grab for your phone? Now that you’re all, eh… spent?”

  “… don’t send anything until we’re dry.”

[jaywritesthings000]

sunday, who, after convincing you to leave Penacony for your own safety not knowing if he'll ever see you again, coincidentally reunites with you on the astral express.

[jaywritesthings000]

Never ask a Sunday fan what happened on April 24, 2024 at 12 AM

[jaywritesthings000]

↪✩sudden confession

⤷ characters: sunday x assistant!reader

⤷ summary: in which reader suddenly dramatically confesses her undying love for this handsome man

⤷ a/n: sunday the man you are.. upset about jade drip marketing

wc: 762

It was quiet in his office. That was, until his assistant suddenly burst into the room.

Since the room was fairly spacious, every single sound increased in volume and echoed around the room. Sunday heard your footsteps as they reverberated throughout the room, looking at you in slight shock.

"I'm in love with you!"

Before he could even say anything, you had blurted out a sudden string of moves that he had not been expecting.

Absolute silence rang inside the room. Sunday stared at you, his lips parted as he was no longer aware of the papers he had been holding in his hand.

This time, he didn't have any words to say. He watched you as you bowed deeply in front of him and continued with another string of sentences.

"I'm sorry, I know this is really sudden, and I'm really sorry, but I just can't go another day like this having to keep this.. from you."

He noticed how you quieted down near the end of your sentence. He still hadn't recovered from his initial shock, and now a bit of confusion had settled on his face.

"You.."

He lowered the papers in his hands onto the desk, continuing to stare at you. He hadn't realized it, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of you since you entered the room.

A silence filled the air again. For the first time in what genuinely was a long time, he had no clue what to say. His assistant had just.. walked into the room and confessed to him?

"(Y/N).."

He said your name and trailed off, continuing to gaze at you with wide eyes. He couldn't deny the small amount of affection he felt for you.. He worked closely with you, after all- and he really appreciated the work you did for him. You were always on top of things and unbelievably determined.

Yet.. as he watched you stand in front of him, your head lowered, most of your face covered by your hair as you fidgeted nervously with your intertwined hands..

You looked so vulnerable.

He knew you were shy and overreactive, but you were confident when you knew what you were doing. It seemed that this.. confession was purely an emotional outburst, one caused by persisting, relentless feelings that must have been uncomfortable to keep bottled up. That's how he knew you were genuine.

When he came upon this realization, he had already taken a step closer to you. He reached a hand forward and gently, carefully pushed some of your hair behind your ear, causing you to look up at him in turn. He didn't know why.. but he wanted to see your face. He wanted to look into your mesmerizing, captivating eyes.

Restraint.

The word crossed his mind for a moment. His hand froze, and his mind became stuck. That's right.. he was a figure of high importance, one that could not risk scandalous rumors if he were to begin dating his assistant. He should exercise restraint, he should..

His hand was quivering as he looked down at you, his touch just barely hovering beside the side of your head. He knew you were beautiful. He always thought that way of you ever since he first met your acquaintance.

He was barely aware of how his face got closer to yours. How he could feel the warm presence of your lips as his nose brushed against yours.

Then, your lips connected. It was a soft, almost hesitant kiss consisting of only your lips pressed together, yet at the same time it still held so much meaning.

After a second, the two of you pulled apart. Somehow, you had gotten even closer than you were before.

You both looked at each other for another second, as if asking for conformation- a mutual understanding. Then, your lips met again in a more firm, sensual kiss.

It was only after a few seconds that he pulled away, a light blush dusting his face as he retracted his hand, not trying to give away his emotions completely in his body language.

Needless to say, after that day, there was a shift in your relationship with Sunday. You two weren't explicitly dating, per se, but there was definitely something.. more between the two of you. Subtle gestures and glances here and there, his hand brushing against yours by accident..

Maybe, one day, when Sunday found it inside himself to be forgiving towards his incessant desires.. he would finally take your hand and ask you to officially be his one and only.

[jaywritesthings000]

↪✩late evenings

⤷ characters: welt yang x fem!reader

⤷summary: welt yang and his s/o on a regular evening on the Express <3

⤷a/n: i love this man.

wc: 283

The Astral Express was quiet.

Welt was sitting on the couch, leaning back against the soft, red material as he gave an inaudible sigh.

He could feel your head against his shoulder and your hair touching his neck, your arm looped around his and his hands resting in his lap. He was pretty sure you were asleep.

He moved his gaze towards the ceiling, his bangs just barely reaching the top of his eyes. For some reason, this moment just felt so entirely tranquil. You always fell asleep on him like this.

Not that he minded, he decided as he gently glanced down at you. You were beautiful.. Even after everything you've both been through, everything that's happened, you were still as beautiful as the day he first met you.

There is nothing in his life that will remain constant. He's always adventuring, meeting new people, visiting new places. And yet.. if there was one thing that was going to stay the same.. He felt, it would be you.

Maybe not you. But his perception of you. He never thought you were any less kind, any less pretty, any less stunning than the person he fell for. You might look or act a little different, but he still loved you.

That in of itself was intriguing to him, how you managed to draw him in. But it also brought him a sense of comfort. You wouldn't change. You were that one bit of stability in his life, something he could finally rely on, after years of tragedy and heartbreak.

So, he leaned his head against yours, enjoying the continuity of your presence, one that never ceased to exist on quiet evenings like this.

[jaywritesthings000]

��✩dense

⤷ characters: bachira x fem!reader

⤷ summary: bachira has had a crush on reader for months now, but he's never racked up the courage for a full confession. Instead, he throws subtle hints and compliments towards her, hoping she can pick up on his feelings. however, reader is as dense as ever and has absolutely no clue.

⤷ a/n: where's all the good blue lock content??!! wc: 869

"(Y/nnnnnnnn)~~!!!"

You were caught completely off-guard as Bachira jumped onto you seemingly out of nowhere, latching his arms around your neck and wrapping his legs around your hips. He seemed to be in a good mood- he was absolutely beaming.

"Ack..-" You regained your footing and glanced back at him. "What're you doing..?"

"I've missed you!" He leaned forward so his head was closer to yours. After another second of holding onto you, he let go and landed on the soft grass.

"I've only been gone for a few hours..." You turned to face him.

"Doesn't matter!" Bachira smiled before taking a second to look at you.

"..You look nice today."

"Thanks."

Another sarcastic answer. You always sounded that way.. Like you believed he was messing with you, or that he was teasing you as a friend. But he never was. He truly meant everything he was saying to you. He hoped that one day you might take it to heart...

"Did you cut your hair?" He recovered from his brief moment of inner thought, pointing at your hair that seemed to be shorter than it was before.

"Oh, yeah, I did!" You replied, tucking some of your hair behind your ears.

"It looks cute on you."

Another attempt. Another attempt at maybe getting you to notice what he was trying to do here. Maybe you'd notice his change of demeanor.. his quiet words.. something?

"Whatever~" You laughed, ruffling his hair and walking straight past him.

You always laughed things off. Every time he complimented you, got physically close to you, even outright flirted with you, you would just laugh and find some way to change the subject. Did you not believe him? Or were you just that dense...

He watched you walk away with distant eyes. How many times had he told you how attractive you look? How pretty your eyes were... how soft your skin felt. And yet, you never seemed to catch on. He wondered if he was being too subtle, which seemed insane..

"Hey, (y/n).."

He jogged to catch up with you.

"Are you going to the dance on Friday?"

"The dance..?" You shot him a speculative look. "Umm.. I wasn't planning to."

"But you'd look pretty in a dress."

You only shrugged. "They're expensive.. And besides, it takes so much effort to plan and get ready and-"

Bachira watched you talk for a minute before cutting you off.

"You're so dense."

This statement caught you off-guard, and you looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

Bachira seemed to have realized what he said, immediately tensing as you confronted him about it.

"I-I mean..."

He glanced away for a second before looking back at you with more determination. It was too late to back out now... This was the closest he's been to admitting his feelings for you. He had to take this chance.

"Can you really not see what I'm trying to do here? I've been throwing hints at you for forever.."

"Hints?" Your face scrunched up in confusion. Was he saying what you think he's saying..?

"Yes, hints.." Bachira looked directly at you. "I like you. I'm not just being nice, I mean it. I love you."

You froze completely, staring at Bachira like a deer in headlights. Was he being serious? He had never been direct like this before. It made your mind go blank.

"You.. love me?"

Nothing in Bachira's face said that he was lying. He looked completely serious. You were stunned.

The heat of the moment had ended, and Bachira's face softened.

"Do you..."

You swallowed. "I love you too."

Bachira's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open from his unfinished sentence. He suddenly got nervous, his heart skipping a beat as a wave of surprise and excitement washed through him.

You loved him.

Bachira wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting. He had said everything on a whim, relying only on his built-up frustration to communicate his thoughts. But now...

Bachira was suddenly aware how close the two of you were. He felt your hand brush up against his, sending jolts of electricity through his body. He was still stunned, but slowly reached out and interlocked his fingers with yours. He was suddenly aware of how close the two of you were.

Kiss her. Kiss her.

His thoughts echoed in his head, his heart absolutely beating out of his chest. He had been waiting for this for so long.

Slowly, he leaned in- and gently brushed his lips against yours. You responded to him, leaning forward ever-so-slight and kissing him more firmly.

Bachira moved his hand to cup the side of your face, his brain feeling fuzzy as he focused entirely on the sensation of the kiss. His heart was racing, even as he pulled away.

You had just kissed. That meant.. his confession had paid off. He finally had you. You were finally his...

Your eyes were so beautiful.

That was the only thought he could manage as he looked at you. When he did finally collect himself, his face lit up, and he laughed.

"Ha-ha! You're all flustered.."

"Seriously?!"

You pushed him affectionately, a smile spreading across your face.

The smile that was now his.

[jaywritesthings000]

⤷✩relationship status

⤷ characters: sunday x fem!reader

⤷ summary: he gets asked a question about your relationship in an interview.

⤷ a/n: i've been a sunday lover since day 1 guys ✊✊ (written before 2.1!!)

wc: 277

"so what's it like dating (y/n)?"

The question caught Sunday off-guard at first. He had expected all sorts of questions from this interview, but not one so direct.

He took a moment to answer, thinking over the exact words he was going to say. He knew he had to answer questions like these carefully. Your relationship hadn't even been made public until a few days ago, despite the fact that both of you had been dating for months. It was a delicate subject for such an influential figure, after all. That's why Sunday waited until he was sure the relationship was stable before revealing it to anyone. And now, of course, people had questions.

Sunday cleared his throat quietly.

"Well... she's a really sweet person. She's definitely well-suited for being my partner."

He spoke calmly with a small smile on his face. He truly meant every word he said when it came to you. After all, you were the most important person in his life.

"are you going to marry her?"

Sunday froze, his face changing ever-so-slightly. He masked the small bit of shock with a nervous smile, his mind absolutely running from the question.

"Maybe.. someday."

In truth, his answer was yes. He wanted to marry you. He wanted it more than anything- to be able to wake up to you every day. To hold your hand and feel the ring on your finger. Although, he couldn't exactly say that out loud. It would be unprofessional.

For now, he'd settle with the prospect. The pure image that filled his mind every time he saw you, imagining what you would look like in a wedding dress.

[jaywritesthings000]

↪✩would they hold your hand?

⤷ characters: yuuji, megumi, toge, nanami

⤷ summary: How they respond and feel about hand-holding!!

⤷ a/n: jjk has officially ruined me. thanks gege

wc: 622

↣ yuuji itadori ☆

Yes. When he can't kiss you, he's always holding your hand. In the halls on your way to class, standing and talking to Megumi, casually doing anything and his hands are interlocked with yours. They're always warm, maybe even clammy-- you're always surprised when they're cold after he's been outside.

His favorite time to hold your hand is during walks. Both of you in casual clothing, looking at all the shops lining the street. The sidewalks aren't particularly busy, and the weather's perfect.

Yuuji is a really fast walker. He's always anxious about one thing or another, and slightly more active than the average person. But recently, he's tried to slow down a little more to enjoy the moment with you. And because you tell him to...

↣ megumi fushiguro ☆

He doesn't show it, but he secretly likes holding your hand. However, he rarely holds your hand in front of other people. And when he does, he doesn't bring attention to it. Usually it's you who grabs his hand, and he doesn't let go. He only regrets it later, when he gets teased by all his friends.

However, he loves holding your hand while making out with you. He'll interlock his fingers with yours as he kisses you, enjoying how you squeezed onto his hand.

Sometimes he'll hold your hand out of anger, if you can't walk straight. Or if you started to run off somewhere and couldn't stay on track. Overall, he's not physically affectionate, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it, especially if it's with you.

↣ toge inumaki ☆

Since he can't communicate his ideas in verbal language, he relies on other methods to express his affection. So yes, he enjoys holding your hand. Just casually, almost with a slight bit of intrigue and curiosity. Like he was fascinated by the fact you wanted to hold his hand.

He's quietly affectionate, leaning his head on your shoulder. Most exchanges between you were wordless, because he finally came to terms with the fact that you were okay with his silence. At first, he thought he had to try harder. To say something to you. But he soon found out that you didn't care all that much. As long as you were with him, that was all the communication you needed.

↣ kento nanami ☆

I don't see him as a hand-holding guy, but rather the type of person to put his hand on your thigh while you're sitting down at a restaurant.

Discreetly, under the table, almost like an absent-minded habit. He enjoys how your skin feels under his touch, finding a bit of comfort in just your presence alone. Plus, his hands are so much bigger than yours- in public, your normally just latch onto his arm and walk that way.

He'd also rest his hand on the small of your back, especially when you're wearing some sort of dress. Small, discreet hand placement while you're talking to someone, gently pulling you close to him. Sometimes he doesn't realize he's doing it. When you call him out, he just apologizes with a small smile. Although, you figure he's not really sorry...

↣ satoru gojo ☆

He's holding your hand all. the. time. Dragging you along, yanking you by your wrist towards him when he mentions you in a conversation. It's almost like he's bragging. He likes clinging onto you or staying close to you while focusing on something else. He turns off his Infinity, just for you.

He also really likes hugs, squeezing you for comfort. He likes spooning you in bed, and opening his arms with a small pout as he waits for you to hug him. And if you don't comply, he'll whine and complain until you do.

He's definitely outwardly affectionate, both in front of other people and in private.

[jaywritesthings000]

↪✩locations they'd kiss you

⤷ characters: megumi, yuuji

⤷summary: when, where, and how they kiss you

⤷a/n: first jjk post!! might make a part 2 with gojo or nanami...

↣ megumi fushiguro ☆

He locked his lips with yours, pushing you more firmly against the table.

He loved kissing you in between classes like this. There was something about the quiet atmosphere of an empty classroom that drew him in, making him want to kiss you as much as he could before the bell rung. Even if there was a risk of getting caught, it felt nice to just have you like this. When it came to you, Megumi was impatient.

The doors were closed, the natural light from the approaching sunset flooding the room. Megumi tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his eyes closed as he savored the sensation, the sound of your kissing. His face felt hot- as much as he'd claim to be indifferent outside of moments like these, he was truly a mess when you were alone. You made his heart flutter, his stomach churn. He hated how flustered you made him, but he couldn't hide how desperately he needed you.

You reached down to intertwine your hand with his, lightly squeezing it in the process. Your other hand was on his hip, while his other hand was cupped around the side of your neck.

Megumi pulled away, his lips still parted as he looked at your face. He couldn't resist kissing you one last time before puling away completely, stepping back and letting go of your hand.

"The bell's about to ring.." he spoke quietly, turning his head away to hide the blush that was on his face. No matter how many times you two kissed, he still got just as embarrassed as he did the first time.

You reached for his hand as you walked out of the classroom. Megumi hesitated, only taking your hand when he was sure the hallways were empty.

"You're blushing." You nudged him, smirking as you walked hand in hand. Megumi glared. Obviously, you idiot.

"Shut up.." he muttered. You laughed. You really didn't mind, you just wanted to get a reaction out of him. It worked every time.

↣ yuuji itadori ☆

Yuuji would kiss you on every single one of your dates. You'd be smiling, looking at the bowling lanes, when suddenly Yuuji would lean across the table and kiss the corner of your mouth. He'd pull back just as you turned your head, studying your expression as his smile mirrored yours. He loved seeing you happy.

Or you'd be enjoying the view during one of your picnics, and right after you finished eating he'd lean in and kiss your lips. He had already been sitting really close to you, anxiously tapping at his knees as he tried to focus on what you were saying. You were just too pretty. He wanted to kiss you all the time, it was like a tingling desire in his heart. He just loved you that much.

He'd hold your hand every time you guys were walking somewhere. Sometimes, he doesn't even notice that he's doing it. It's pure habit. He might be a little shy to kiss you in front of other people, but he'd never pass up the opportunity to hold your hand. Or kiss your cheek when no one was watching. However, he didn't kiss you too often. He held himself back, believing every moment with you was special. He wanted to enjoy every kiss with you and put some meaning behind it.

When you two were alone, his kisses were soft and loving. His hand would cup your cheek and his other hand would be on your waist. Soft romance was his favorite thing, but sometimes he'd get needy. He'd shift his position to get closer to you, kissing you more roughly than before.

No matter how you'd express your affection or express yourself in general, his love for you remained constant.

wc: 592

[jaywritesthings000]

↪✩bf!bachira headcannons

⤷characters: meguru bachira

⤷summary: boyfriend headcanons!! (slight higschool AU)

⤷a/n: i love him so much you don't understand 🥺🥺 happy valentine's day!! 💕💕

bf!bachira who constantly has his arm around you while walking around the hallways during school. He likes having his arm around your shoulder, especially when talking to his friends.

bf!bachira who likes holding your hand while walking in public

bf!bachira who makes you play soccer with him during lunch

bf!bachira who texts you all the time for absolutely no reason

bf!bachira who tries to show off during practice if you're there

bf!bachira who gives you a quick kiss before running off to start his game

bf!bachira who dedicates his goals to you

bf!bachira who kisses his finger and points to you every time he scores

bf!bachira who loves showering with you and cuddling after each of his games

bf!bachira who loves spooning and holding you close to him

bf!bachira who presses his nose against yours when it's cold

bf!bachira who thinks your eyes are pretty

bf!bachira who realizes he's less alone now that he's with you

bf!bachira who keeps every little thing you give him, the objects filling up his desk space

bf!bachira who relies on you for studying but gets distracted easily

[jaywritesthings000]

↪✩valentine's gift

⤷characters: meguru bachira

⤷summary: you buy him something for valentine's day!!

⤷a/n: first post!! it makes me upset that he loves gifts but doesn't get any :((

Another year had passed. The snowy season was coming to an end with only one month left until March, but you couldn't help but be secretly appreciative of the snow that was still blanketing the ground. You were so focused on the winter season that you almost forgot what day it was. February 14. You came to that realization when you looked at your phone and read the date on your lockscreen. To you, Valentine's Day didn't really mean anything. Nothing made it special to you- you didn't have anyone to spend the day with… anyone to give chocolates to. It's not like anyone got you anything anyway. You didn't hate Valentine's Day- you weren't a bitter person, but you never had a reason to celebrate.

You looked up from your phone to instead study the snow still outside. It was a peaceful day, the sun reflecting off the snow in a way that wasn’t too blinding. You were suddenly hit with a realization. On second thought, maybe there was someone you could buy chocolates for.

Meguru Bachira- the boy you had recently become friends with. He was known for having an.. eccentric personality. Nobody would hang out with him. Except for you. And ever since you made the choice to sit with him during lunch one day, he hasn't left you alone. You found it endearing, to be honest. His smile, his laugh, his silly antics. How he would talk to you for hours about soccer. He'd even invited you to play with him once- although you suspected it was really just an excuse for him to show off. You barely touched the ball. The more you thought about Bachira, the more you came to the realization that you wanted to do something for him. You appreciated him being your friend, although you never really told him that. You wondered if it was something more but denied it instantly. The butterflies in your stomach remained. So, you soon found yourself walking out of your apartment and down the sidewalk, gloved hands stuffed in your coat pockets and scarf pulled up to your mouth. It was cold, but not freezing. The sidewalks had been shoveled, so, disappointingly enough, there was nothing for your boots to make imprints on. When you got to the store, you realized you didn't know what kind of chocolate Bachira liked. Did he even like chocolate? You paused for a moment in the sweets isle. Eventually, you decided you were overthinking and just picked something. Who doesn’t like chocolate..?

Soon, it had turned dark outside. Since it was winter, the sun set earlier, so really it was only 7 pm. It had started to snow as well.

You still hadn't given Bachira the chocolates. It was a weekend, so you didn't have the opportunity to talk to him all day. You didn't know why, but you were slightly nervous to text him. You'd never done anything for anyone on Valentine's Day; it was all new to you. You knew Bachira probably wouldn't care, but you didn't wanna mess it up.

Your phone lit up with a text message. It was Bachira.

I'm coming to see you!!

You froze. He was coming over? Right now? You glanced out the window. Was he already on his way? You wanted to give him the gift first, not just have him stumble upon you with it… It was a silly thought, but you were stubborn about it.

So, you shot up from the couch in your apartment and ran outside. The snow fell gently from the sky, light posts illuminating the streets with a golden glow. The sidewalk was covered now, so your boots made imprints this time as you ran. You knew the exact route Bachira took to your apartment each day, so you knew you were bound to run into him. The chocolate box was clutched tightly in your hand.

Sure enough, you spotted him on the sidewalk up ahead. He looked up, his face showing surprise as he noticed you. You didn't slow down until you were in front of him, slightly out of breath.

"(Y/N?)" Bachira looked down at you, his hands in his pockets. He was confused, if anything. Why had you gone outside if he was just going to your place anyways?

Once you caught your breath, you met his gaze and straightened up. He was wearing a scarf and the jacket he usually wore to practice… Suddenly, your mind drew a blank.

"Uhh.. I.." You looked away for a second, clearing your throat. "I got you something.."

Bachira looked down and saw what was in your hands. His face immediately lit up when he realized.

"A gift?!" He seemed excited, leaning forward slightly, studying the box in your hands. If there was one thing you knew about him, it was that he loved receiving gifts. Although, nobody really gave him any…

You nodded, speaking quietly. "For Valentine's Day."

Bachira's eyes flickered back to your face when you said that. You were getting something for him? Because of a holiday? A holiday about love?

A small bit of color rose to his cheeks.

You raised the box of chocolates you had gotten for him, still looking away. Bachira snatched them out of your hands, his whole face lighting up. He rose the small box into the air with an energized "Hooray!"

"Woah, don't drop them-" You warned, but he only laughed.

"You really got me something!!”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah…”

Bachira paused in his celebration, suddenly leaning close to you.

“Does that mean we’re…” he said quietly. “..Lovers?”

You were immediately caught off-guard, your face twisting in surprise. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but it made you flustered either way. Bachira straightened, waiting for your response.

“I.. I mean..” You tried to regain your composure. “If you wanna be my Valentine..”

Bachira’s eyes widened in joy. “You want me to be your  Valentine?”

“Why not?”

“Yes...!” Bachira threw his hands in the air, clearly happy at the thought. “I’ll be your Valentine! Ooh, I’ve never done this before! What’s it like? Do we go on lots of dates?”

You chuckled, looking away nervously. “We could…”

“And do we buy sweets for each other and cuddle and watch movies?”

He sounded so excited, it almost made you sad that it seemed so foreign to him. You were surprised he was cutting straight to the chase and being so forward about it. You didn’t even have to confess anything.

“Yeah, we can watch movies.”

“Yay!!!” The way he was swinging the chocolates around made you worried they would fly out. But he just seemed so excited. He threw his arms around you, nearly knocking you off-balance. But you caught yourself and eventually wrapped your arms around him as well, albeit gentler.

“My valentine~” He smiled.

Bachira had this funny feeling in his heart. His chest fluttered when he was around you, he always wanted to impress you. He’d show off during soccer, amused that even the simplest trick could get you fascinated. He constantly had an arm around your shoulder, occasionally holding your hand. He’s always had the urge, he just wanted your approval. He was scared of rejection, but you always validated him. While others would think him annoying or overbearing, you always found it endearing. You wanted to be next to him. Even when Bachira forgot to buy something for you after he said he would, you still loved him. Even when he’d constantly beg you to watch his games or come to his practices, or even invite you over for the sole purpose of watching soccer, you’d always agree to see him. Bachira was glad you didn’t leave him like other people did. He was truly, completely head over heels for you, and it made him want to be around you even more. He wasn’t lonely anymore, he had found you. And he knew you wouldn’t leave.

wc: 1330

[jaywritesthings000]

‧ call me jay! | she/they | infj | bi ‧ fandoms: bsd, jjk, hsr, ygo, tot, nbc hannibal, idv ‧ fav characters: dazai, ranpo, megumi, inumaki, will graham, hannibal lecter, bachira, welt yang, acheron, sunday, vyn richter, eli clark, aesop carl, orpheus, frederick kreiburg, joseph desaulniers, emma woods

↣✩Requests! (open)

‧ characters: welt yang, sunday, vyn richter, joseph desaulniers, eli clark ‧ ships: elisop ‧ what I write: x reader, headcannons, fluff, suggestive, angst, hurt/comfort, no smut

↣✩Masterlist

‧ blue lock ↪ valentine's gift - bachira ↪ bf!headcannons - bachira ↪ dense - bachira ‧ jjk ↪ locations they'd kiss you - megumi, yuuji ↪ would they hold your hand? - megumi, yuuji, toge, nanami, gojo ‧ hsr ↪ relationship status - sunday ↪ late evenings - welt yang ↪ sudden confession - sunday

credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers ♡