i write for every jjk character except for mahito. also, to be clear, i age up characters who are canonically adults at one point (i.e. yuji/megumi). please feel free to be as detailed as you want!! requests must be reader x jjk character (no ocs for now...). i will not write:

dark content (non con, pedophilia, etc).

super heavy stuff (thoughts of suicide, severe mental illness, self-harm) other than it being a detail and not the focus of an entire scene

no poly stuff (only one character x reader for now, im not confident i'll write it well)

no ocs

however, when something suddenly bumps into you, you whirl, alarmed. what’s facing you is a big bouquet of no less than a 100 roses. you’re so dazzled by the big bouquet in your face you don’t notice the muscled arm that’s holding it until the mass of flowers starts moving. then, you see something even more red than the balloons, or the flowers.

“why the fuck is your dick out?!” you shriek, jumping back. in your alarm, you also make your boyfriend jump back, popping a balloon and dropping the bouquet in the process. and there he is: satoru in all his glory. the only thing he’s wearing are poorly wrapped ribbons wrapping around his shoulders and thighs that are definitely not able to keep his dick wrapped against his thigh.

you then look up to your boyfriend’s face, which is in a big, bright grin. “happy one month anniversary, baby!” he then moves toward you, naked and all, to bring you into a hug and give you the wettest, sloppiest kiss.

One kiss turns into two, and two turns into a full makeout session on your bed. But can you really blame yourself? Satoru’s kisses—and the way he’d princess-carried you with such ridiculous tenderness to the bed—are absolutely addicting. No matter how much you like to pretend to be annoyed by him, you’re completely and utterly down bad for your boyfriend.

He’s currently hovering over you, his warm, broad hands bracketing your face as he kisses you like it’s the only thing he’s good at (it isn’t, but it’s up there). His weight presses into you just enough to make you feel all floaty, his body caging you in comfortably.

“Satoru—mmph—why did you do—mmph—all this?” you manage between his relentless kisses. He hasn’t even bothered to come up for air; he’s like a man possessed, thoroughly fixated on you, his lips finding every angle they can. “What if I—smooch—wasn’t alone?”

He pulls back slightly, his mouth flushed and his hair mussed from where you’ve been threading your fingers through it. His expression is so smug it makes your chest tighten. “Not alone?” he teases, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Baby, you think I wouldn’t have scoped out your dorm before pulling out the big romantic surprise? I know your schedule and when you hang out with your friends better than your own mom.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the grin tugging at your lips. “Stalker behavior.”

“Stalker? Or the perfect boyfriend?” He punctuates his words with another kiss, his lips brushing over yours before moving to press a soft one against your cheek.

“You are such an idiot,” you mutter, though your voice betrays how fond you really are of him.

“And you love me for it,” he says confidently, his teeth grazing your earlobe before he trails a line of kisses down your neck. You shiver as his warm breath tickles your skin. “I mean, come on, this is worth skipping a boring group meetup for, right?”

Group meetup? “Skipping? We’re not skipping anything—” you start to protest, but your words are cut off by the vibration of Satoru’s phone, which starts buzzing insistently on your bedside table. Neither of you moves to grab it at first, too caught up in each other, until it stops and immediately starts buzzing again. And again.

Satoru groans, dropping his forehead against your collarbone. “What the hell? They’re blowing up my phone like someone’s dying.”

You furrow your brow. “Wait, who’s blowing up your phone? What are we late for?”

He pulls back slightly, blinking down at you. “The group meetup? Remember? We said we’d hang out tonight with everyone—Shoko, Suguru, your friends. You forgot?”

You stare at him, your mind blank for a moment before it clicks. 

You’re fucked.

 “Oh, my God,” you groan, dragging your hands down your face. “That was today?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing out the word like it’s obvious. Then he smirks. “But I can’t blame you. Who’d want to hang out with them when you’ve got this?” He gestures to himself like the world’s most obnoxious runway model. Which isn’t wrong, either. If he wasn’t so busy being Spiderman, he probably would’ve ended up at Calvin Klein modeling underwear. 

You then take note to have him model underwear for you. Privately. 

“‘toru,” you groan, exasperated but amused at his blatant disregard for your friend group in favor of sexy times. “Go get dressed.” You point to the wardrobe that is filled with both yours and his clothes as well as spare suits, inevitable artifacts left after his frequent stay overs at your single. 

You know he’s going to pout, and you can’t help but coo inside when he makes that face, looking disgusted like a puppy realizing its owner is take it to the vet. “What?” he whines. “Baby, I did all this for our month anniversary, and you want to go see our friends?”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Yes, Satoru. Because our friends are going to murder us if we bail again. You do remember how mad Shoko was the last time, right?”

“She’ll get over it,” he mumbles, flopping dramatically back onto the bed like the diva he is. “We’re in love. They should understand that.”

“Satoru.” You lean over him, pulling the pillow away and tapping a finger against his forehead, pointedly looking at him. “You’re the one who planned this meetup, and now you’re ditching it because you’d rather make out with me? That’s so lame.”

His blue eyes twinkle mischievously. “Lame? You didn’t seem to think it was lame two seconds ago when you were soaking on—mmph.”

You cover his mouth with your hand, cheeks burning. “Okay, first of all, shut up. Second of all, get dressed. We’re going.”

He pulls your hand away, pouting up at you. “But I planned all this for you, baby. For us. You really want to give that up to hang out with those guys?”

“They’re our friends, Satoru,” you remind him, sitting back on your heels. “And if we don’t show up soon, Nanami’s going to lecture us, Utahime’s going to give me the look, Shoko’s going to demand we pay for her drinks next time, and Suguru….actually I don’t know what Suguru would do. Probably spout some philosophy bullshit and how the situation relates to something Karl Marx said.”

He groans again, louder this time. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

You smirk, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips. “You’ll survive. Besides…” You trail off, running a finger teasingly along his jawline, “…if you get up now, I promise we won’t stay too long. And when we get back, we can finish what we started.”

He couldn’t have jumped faster; in one swift motion, he’s off the bed and rummaging through the wardrobe. “What should I wear? Something that says, ‘Sorry I’m late, but I look so good you’ll forgive me’?”

You laugh, already heading to grab your jacket. “Just something that doesn’t make us any later than we already are.”

As he pulls on his jacket and checks his hair in the mirror, he glances at you with a soft smile. “You know, you’re really lucky I love you. No one else could convince me to leave this bed right now.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. “Yeah, yeah mister. Save it for when we’re not twenty minutes late.”And with that, the two of you head out, Satoru still grumbling under his breath but getting a small payback on you by shoving his cold, hyperborean hands against yours in your jacket pocket, making you yelp.