The Warmth Of Love. Sae Itoshi X Reader. Fluff. (my Comeback Era!?)

the warmth of love. sae itoshi x reader. fluff. (my comeback era!?)

"i have no idea why your apartment always runs so cold, sae."

he scoffs at your words, raising an eyebrow at the way you're quivering so much. it's almost as if you haven't been anywhere cold before. how cute–

he shakes the rest of his thoughts away, banishing them from every nook and cranny of his mind. he doesn't like the way you make him feel. he's riding high on the wave of you, he thinks, because now he can't even do anything properly without you occupying his mind like a parasite.

(hypothetically, though. you would be the only parasite he would let consume his soul inside out, metaphorically and emotionally.)

sae frowns. "it's really not that bad. you're exagerrating so much, y'know. what is this, an elaborate ploy for me to give you my hoodie, or something?"

(he would've done it in a heartbeat if you asked. both of you knew it–) somehow, you still muster enough decency to roll your eyes and treat his words as a joke.

"actually, i wanted you to turn up the thermostat. but i highly doubt you'll be able to survive the heat, mr lukewarm."

his only response was to place his ice-cold fingers around your neck, making you squirm from the massive gap between his hands and your natural body temperature. he supposes you are a lot warmer than he is– emotionally and biologically.

he raises an eyebrow at your overly-dramatic reaction of thrashing around, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "say that again, i dare you."

"okay, mr lukewarm."

sae hates that nickname– yet somehow, everything coming from you seems a lot better. softer, as if thawing his cold heart.

he makes a show of walking over to the thermostat of his home. your protests (pleas, really–) appear to fall upon deaf ears.

neither of you comment on the way he wordlessly sticks closer to you on the couch, nor your body stops shivering.

“Ink my promises onto your skin” ♡

-jujutsu kaisen tattoo shop au! x gn! reader

|| You decide to get your first tattoo today. As nervous as you were, the presence of the extremely attractive tattoo artists quickly dispersed your anxiety

pairing : megumi fushiguro, geto suguru, gojo satoru, maki zenin, inumaki toge, yuuta okkotsu x gn! reader

genre : fluff, suggestive-ish on gojo’s part

tw/note : mention of needles and blood, i wanted to make this au bc it was fun, i don’t know much about tattoos but i tried my best, if i missed anything, please inform me

words : 2.5k

You reluctantly opened the glass doors to the sketchiest looking shop you’ve ever entered. Your friends decided to dare you to get your first tattoo, which is why you were here. Of course, you were against the idea, but after looking at several cute designs and staring at the ones your friends had..getting one shouldn’t be too bad right? Minus the sharp pain of the needles and possible skin diseases you’d contract, at least your body would have cute little designs on it so you could end in style.

“No..I can’t do this—“ You turned your heel to back away when the chime of the doors made you freeze. “Are you coming in?” A monotone voice of a male rang into your ears as you looked back. Damn he was pretty. Now that the door was opened, you could see a bunch of people inside curiously peeking outside the door right at you. ‘Don’t they have anything better to do??’ You thought. Well you couldn’t just leave now can’t you. And that was the story on how you became entranced to receiving your first tattoo.

Megumi Fushiguro || Tired receptionist

You read the plastic name tag on the man who called out to you. “Megumi Fushiguro” it said in bold letters. He stared at you dully, as if wondering if you were just going to stand outside and waste their precious time and air conditioning. “If you are making an appointment, come in” Was all he said before opening the door a little further. Well now saying “no, I’m sorry” would just be an embarrassment to you. So with no other choice left, you slowly dragged your feet inside to confirm your reservation.

The receptionist- or Megumi as he calls himself, looks through the files with a calm and unbothered feel to him. You noticed he had a soft looking face, sharp eyes and eyelashes no extensions could replicate. Dream man for real. Despite working in a tattoo parlor, he wasn’t how you expected him to be. He barely had any markings on his skin besides a small design on his inner wrist. It was..two small dogs? You stifled a laugh when he raised his arm to stretch because how could such an intimidating looking man have such an adorable tattoo? This obviously caught Megumi’s attention.

He was unimpressed by how you laughed. “Ah no- I just thought your dog tattoos are cute! Do you own some?” You smiled awkwardly. Megumi nodded as he signed you in, motioning his one free hand to the two dogs huddled in the corner. Your sudden fixation on them had him looking up from his screen, observing how your gaze became sparkles and your body basically begging to hug those bundles of fur. Oh yeah this man was distracted. Usually people didn’t care when he mentioned his dogs, he was glad someone showed some appreciation for them.

“First tattoo?” He asked, to which you sheepishly nodded. Megumi didn’t utter another word before he stood up from his chair to lead you to the back area where there were a few tattoo artists waiting with their equipment. Before heading back, you heard him mutter something with a small blush you could see if you look close and squint

“If you’re nervous, I could call my dogs over for you. They make great company and..I could be too”

Geto Suguru || Your assigned tattoo artist

Well hello hottie. Was what your mind immediately thought when your eyes set on the gorgeous man who was simply disinfecting his tools. He had long black hair tied in a man bun, some strands falling on his face that were equally as attractive as his physique. Sleeveless shirt which revealed his tattoo sleeve and neck tattoo. The mysterious man who’d been silent all this time, smiled warmly at you when you were (embarrassingly) caught staring.

“Call me Geto, I’m your artist for today” He patted the open seat to welcome you. You didn’t know what it was but you walked to that seat like your life depended on it. Geto was cautious in preparing everything, making sure that the items were all set. Despite having an intimidating exterior, his hands were gentle, especially with how he handled anything fragile. “Don’t be scared, it may pinch though” He tried to reassure you, but your clammy hands and that large needle he held was not making anything better.

“What design would you like?” He asked and you showed him a simple design and he grinned, muttering a small “cute” under his breath. Your heart did flips inside but you did your best to conceal it. Diligently, the man started to draw sketches on your arm where you mentioned you wanted the tattoo to be. His large, slightly callused hands wrapped around your arm in a firm grip to keep him from making any imperfections. No, your nervous shaking did not help. Could you be blamed ?? This hot as hell man was inches away from your face with his arm holding you tightly.

He pulled away after the sketch was completed, switching over to his needle. Your slight flinch didn’t escape his notice. He leaned closer whilst using the fact he was using rubbing alcohol on you as an excuse to brush his lips against the shell of your ear

“Calm yourself down, my darling, we wouldn’t want any imperfections on your body, now would we?”

Gojo Satoru || Wishes he was your tattoo artist

From the second you entered, there was a strong feeling that there were eyes on you. Your suspicions were confirmed when for a split second, your eyes locked with the blue ones hiding behind a set of sunglasses despite being indoors. You were curious but Megumi was already leading you to get your tattoo done. You could have sworn there was a visible pout on the mystery man’s face when you were assigned to Geto instead of him.

“Ah~ Suguru, why don’t you give this one to me hm? You’ve been busy all day, no?” He lazily made large steps towards you on the chair, pulling on a random stool to sit on. “Gojo Satoru, or ‘the love of your life’ to you, angel” He smiled sweetly, holding out his inked hands for a handshake, as if there were no intentions behind that facade. You simply quirked a brow at his attempts, clearly unamused to which Geto laughed whilst sketching the designs onto your skin. “Trying to get into another pair of pants, Satoru? Nice try” Geto smirked at your plain reaction.

“Awh..But you’re too pretty to be with someone like him” The man who went by Gojo snarled. You wanted to laugh- wait, what happened to all that pressure? For some reason you were calmer than before, a little agitated at the flirting instead of scared. Was that an intention of his? Gojo stayed there for the majority of the preparation process, lazily looking at you and his friend. “Sure you don’t want me instead, doll?” He pouted and you rolled your eyes.

“Maybe next time” You muttered, but Gojo heard and he would be using it against you. He stood up, lowered his sunglasses and winked. The man could have just stolen your heart along with that. You tried acting uninterested but we all know you were having a field day in there.

“Next time? Looking forward to our time together. Don’t keep me waiting, doll”

Maki Zenin || Very stressed manager

“Satoru, stop bothering our guests”

A sharp voice was heard which made you look over. A young woman stood with a pen between her fingers and a sleeveless black turtleneck that made her a sight to behold. The outfit revealed her shoulder tattoo that seemed to stretch to her back. “Get back to your post” She warned and surprisingly, Gojo stood up with his hands in the air to show his defeat. Wow. You never thought that that man would listen to anyone but himself. Thank goodness for your taste in women you were slightly afraid of because damn this woman was fine. Her eyes landed on you through her glasses “Sorry about that” she apologized while taking out her clipboard.

At this point, Geto was slowly making the design onto your skin, but you couldn’t focus on the pain at all. Maki noticed your stares on her and curled a brow in curiosity “Is there anything you need?” She strides to your seat, leaning down to check on you. Another intimidating figure that turned out to be very caring. Or maybe this was just customer service. Either way, you couldn’t care less about the pain when this beautiful woman is there. But you could only do so much.

The needle inched deeper into your skin and you yelped. Maki was surprised but quietly laughed. This must be your first time, she thought. Amused, she placed down her clipboard and looked at you. “It isn’t that bad after a while” She reassured before looking at your tattoo artist. “Oi, be careful with them” She almost hit him but stopped herself. Maki couldn’t lie, that yelp you let out was quite cute. Maki couldn’t stay long, but she wanted you to relax. And so, she handed you a small stuffed toy that she gave a few patrons to hold onto when they are scared.

“I have to go, but I hope you enjoy your time” She took her items in her hand and bowed before sending you a small wink before turning her back. You turned your head to the side before you checked the stuffed toy including..a number card? Wait- wait..

This time you let out another yelp, just not from pain

“I have to leave, but I have a feeling that we’d meet again soon. Don’t avoid me when that happens.”

Inumaki Toge || Professional heart warmer

In the back of the room, a young man sat with his legs crossed on a stool with his hands busy playing some games. He had white hair and a black mask on. You were curious as to why he had no visible tattoos, despite all his co-workers having some. He paid no attention to you at all during the first few moments, but when he caught onto how nervous you were after Maki left you with a simple stress toy, he felt like he had to step in. What kind of manager leaves a frightened customer with a simple toy?

Inumaki didn’t speak a word, he didn’t even introduce his name so you had to catch on with solely his name tag. He pointed at his screen and showed a bunch of videos to you. Inumaki’s screen displayed plenty of comedy/prank videos that made you erupt in laughter despite the needle sinking into your skin. Yes, everyone in that parlor were jealous of how Inumaki was doing a better job at comforting you than any of them did. And he didn’t need to flirt, offer you anything or wink his way into your heart.

It was like he was always there. Turns out Inumaki is very much a playful person, making little jokes and making you more at ease just with some videos. Though, you wondered why he didn’t speak. Was it a medical condition? Or simply a preference? You couldn’t tell nor did you feel like asking in case it was a sensitive question. You let out another yelp, tears pricking the corners of your eyes this time. As time went by, your skin became more and more sensitive to the needle than it was before.

Inumaki was startled by your wet eyes, hands sputtering to try and think of something that would help. He tried videos, jokes, nothing worked. He held your hand as he noticed you shaking, warning you that you shouldn’t be moving so much with an ink needle inside you but you didn’t seem to catch on with just the grab. And so, Inumaki pulled down his mask to reveal those hidden tattoos that stretched across his lips in abstract shapes, leaning down and whispered in your ear to get the message across

“Don’t move”

Yuuta Okkotsu || Post-tattoo emotional support

After your tattoo was over, you breathed out a sigh of relief. After your arm was done, another man took Geto’s place. He was relatively younger and had a terrifying aura to him..that is, if he didn’t immediately let out the brightest smile ever when he greeted you. “Hi! I’m Okkotsu Yuuta. I’ll be cleaning your wound for a while so let’s get along well” He grinned. He was like the scariest golden retriever alive, if that made any sense. It was the best way to word him.

Yuuta had a relatively simple tattoo that stretched across his arm. It was quite colorful in contrast to most commonly used colors such as black. “It must’ve hurt huh?” He strikes up some conversation while cleaning up your wound with care, it was as if he held you like porcelain. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to be so gentle but you held your tongue from how focused he was on making sure you experienced as little pain as possible from the cleaning process. Deciding to engage in his questions, you two struck up a nice talk together.

He made some funny sentences that made you smile even though he wasn’t sure what he did 90% of the time, blinking confused on why that entertained you. “Oh and there was a time I almost swallowed a needle- I knew with that along with my hearty meal from earlier, that my trip to the bathroom would not be pleasant” Cue your laughter. He blinked a few times at why that was hilarious but enjoyed the fact he had you forgetting about your fresh tattoo he was taking care of.

“Your design is pretty” He muttered subconsciously, looking at how it suited you so well. You asked him about his tattoo, and he explained that it meant how he should focus on what lies ahead instead of being caught up with the past. “Do you have something that you’d like to forget?” Yuuta just nodded at your question with a warm smile. You couldn’t help but want to help him take his mind off any unpleasant memories he had.

“People told me I’d find someone to help me recover. Would it be silly if I said I feel that someone was with me right now?”

—

note : couldn’t fit more pictures 🥲 but anyways geto tattoo artist au has been roaming my mind recently so i just had to make it into a fic with other characters. also my maki brainrot is inevitable <3

Michael Kaiser — Mean

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.4k TYPE: Fake dating, This is not fluff or angst but a secret third thing (with a cheerful ending) WARNING(S): Depersonalization/identity issues

The first time you meet Michael Kaiser, you get a bad impression.

Yeah, sure, he doesn’t have the most stellar reputation, anyway. You’ve met all sorts of unpleasant people in your life and he manages to disappoint even when the bar is so low, the only way to go lower is through digging.

You don’t exchange a word with him, but rather you have the misfortune of having to listen to him talk throughout the entire meeting. He starts countless arguments, some valid to an extent. You can tell he’s just doing this because he’s addicted to the sound of his voice and speaking to people like they’re unimportant specks of dust all while commanding their attention. There’s no point to his fussing either because he ends up signing the same contract you do.

Waste of your goddamn time — he might as well have not signed it and saved you the trouble, since the ordeal ends up lasting three hours because of him.

Maybe you should’ve not signed it yourself, but your PR manager was salivating at the idea of fake dating as a publicity stunt, especially with Kaiser who’ll be posing with you for a photoshoot in a few months, so you said ‘whatever’ and here you are. In this predicament with an insufferable man you imagine you won’t get along with, which already predisposes you to never giving him a chance.

___

The first time you speak to Michael Kaiser, you unsettle him.

It’s unlike him to feel disturbed, let alone at the slightest thing. He’s met all sorts of sickos, so he considers himself unflinching in the face of anyone who has anything off about them.

But he’s fifteen minutes late to the ‘date’ you’re supposed to use as a tool to subtly launch your fake relationship and he’s expecting a scolding. Kaiser spots you and heads in your direction, taking the seat in front with a shitty smirk and an ingenuine, half-assed apology on his lips.

What he gets in response is a blank look — almost… unimpressed, which naturally someone like Kaiser takes as a challenge and already sets the tone for the rest of the conversation — and it’s as if you’re staring into his soul. Then in an instant your expression flips to convincing joy, your warm smile contrasting his snide one, and you say, “Let’s act like we’re really stoked.”

A chill runs down his spine. On a logical level Kaiser knows you’re faking it, but it looks real, and that’s what he finds freaky. Also, the speed.

“Let’s not,” he says. “You’re weird,” he adds after you don’t respond.

You don’t react to this information either and settle for maintaining your smile.

The barista decides to spare him from having to look at you while you don’t say anything. He’s pretty sure you’re doing this deliberately, to torture him. When you attempt to order something, he talks over you and asks, “Can you give us one of those shitty milkshakes with two straws in them?”

She stares at him in bewilderment. “We don’t sell those,” she says eventually.

“Can you make one?”

“No…”

“You’re scum,” you tell him, dropping the happy facade. Again, the quickness strikes Kaiser as disturbing. Then you give her a valid order, and he asks for water since they offer that everywhere and he can’t be bothered to read the menu. After the barista leaves, you say, “I could have lactose intolerance.”

“You could. I could be trying to kill you.”

“I don’t know if a milkshake would be enough to kill me.”

“Maybe I was trying to give you a stomach ache,” he concurs.

You don’t dignify that with a reply either.

Kaiser tries to speak with you again, “I really fucking hate milk.”

“Then why’d you do that?”

“To embarrass you, of course,” he says, like he’s revealed to you the natural order of things.

“Hm.” You consider this new information. “I’ll definitely think of a way to get back at you.”

The lukewarm threat seems to amuse him more than anything.

Then you proceed to have a hostile few hours together in public as instructed. You end up throwing napkins at his face.

Kaiser isn’t good at pretending to be in love. The only such image he seems capable of projecting is one of a middle schooler who’s failing to find a balance between playful and mean. Though it also doesn’t matter to you because you mostly teeter on the edge of mean, slightly left of apathetic. Nothing really matters to you.

___

For your second court-ordered date with Michael Kaiser, your manager tells you to get caught holding hands with him at a park after the cafe meeting doesn’t spark much controversy. The notion itself has you scrunching your face, but you don’t complain about it or voice your opinion.

Again, he’s late picking you up by a not negligent amount of time, leaving you to stand in front of your building, motionless and impatient.

Instead of announcing his presence in a more acceptable manner, Kaiser blares the car horn until you realize it’s him. After you crawl inside the passenger seat, you turn to look at him and see that he looks very pleased with himself. It’s obnoxious.

“I hope we die in a car crash,” you greet.

“We won’t.” You don’t know why, but his brain interprets this as an opportunity to brag. “I’m an excellent driver.”

He’s not. Somehow you make it to the park without getting into a catastrophe — which, as established, you wouldn’t have minded.

You exit at the same time and Kaiser frowns at you by the time he circles his way around to you. You don’t care enough about what’s bothering him to raise a questioning eyebrow let alone ask, but he tells you, “I was going to open the door for you and then offer to help you up. You ruined everything!”

You roll your eyes. “How gallant.”

“Get back in,” Kaiser says, pointing (as if the gesture will be enough to convince you to play along). “Let’s redo it.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I have a vision for these kinds of things, that’s all.”

“Your vision is trashy and uninspired,” you reject promptly.

Kaiser seems to be the first person in the world who finds your attitude funny rather than objectionable because he grins at your response. But he’s more so looking at you like you’re a bug he finds fascinating in comparison to the rest, without any real respect or acknowledgement. 

“I admit maybe it was a bit cliche,” he says. “Would’ve made me look good, though, if someone caught it on camera.”

You smile that ghoulish smile again and grab his hand like you were told. His fingers are cold and yours even more so, making the grasp clammy and uncomfortable while you begin your stroll. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to talk about with him. Soon enough, you scowl, both the silence and the sensation of getting touched proving too much for you to hide your displeasure, even though Kaiser seems content with letting the silence fester.

“Oh? Why’d you stop? I’ve started enjoying your creepy masquerading.”

“I’m disgusted,” you say.

“Disgusted,” he repeats. “By what? Me?”

“It’s making me sick. Who knows where your hand’s been or what you’ve done.”

Albeit visibly offended for the first time if the lack of an annoying smirk is anything to draw judgments from, Kaiser drops it first. Your arm hangs by your side again, limp.

“Let go, then. Or do I need to do everything myself?” That’s quite a dramatic sentiment coming from a man who has done nothing all day besides a short drive and taking a few steps.

“But my manager said-”

“Who cares? I think my manager’s lucky I agreed to this bullshit in the first place,” Kaiser says. “By the way, my hands haven’t been in any sewers or anything to warrant this reaction, thank you very much.” He must be the type of person who only ever says thank you as if being grateful is some big joke.

“I’m not being literal. I know who you are and what people say about you. My disgust is conceptual.”

“Flattering.” Kaiser’s pleased again with the mention of this tidbit, like the mental image he’s getting of you searching him up gives him immeasurable amounts of satisfaction. One thing you’ve come to notice about him since your last outing is that he’s shameless. “You’re not special, though. Lots of people know who I am.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re scum.”

“Do you usually talk to people you barely know in this way or is it preferential treatment? I’d love preferential treatment, but the other option is amusing too.”

“Usually,” you say in a monotone. “That’s why I don’t speak much. More so supposed to be looked at rather than heard, and so on.” You finish off your explanation with a flippant gesture. That’s what it’s like for you — ‘shut your trap, it ruins your appeal.’

“Well, I-” there’s an emphasis on the word ‘I’ because Kaiser always thinks his opinion matters, “-think your worldview is pathetic and embarrassing. What’s the point of being looked at if no one will listen to you? How can you be fine with that?”

Fair point. You concede in your head, but don’t commit to agreeing with him out loud. “You’re not special either. Most people gross me out.”

“You hurt me this time.” He’s sneering, though.

After a while of walking, you find yourself sitting on a bench next to him. A few pigeons strut around near your feet, bobbing their heads back and forth, almost catching a groove. “If I had any bread, I’d feed them.”

“I’m not surprised you’d feel interested in such a commoner’s activity,” Kaiser says, as if he is somehow superior to you for not wanting to participate in this.

“Vile,” you say, voice still neutral. You’re not looking at him either, attention glued to the birds.

He doesn’t know which part of it you find dismaying — was it the class shaming or what? “So you like pigeons, but you hate humanity. You’re one of those.”

“I don’t hate humanity,” you say. “But nature is repulsive by default. It’s not amoral. When we’re cruel and ugly, that’s a conscious and opportunistic decision. Every day CEOs throw their employees and workers under the bus for more profits. Someone’s getting murdered as we speak. We’re faking a relationship to attract brand deals. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”

“Get a hobby instead of thinking about stupid shit like that. Caring about how ugly and bleak everything is won’t get you anywhere,” Kaiser… advises.

“Look at the pigeons.” You’re watching the one with the missing claws, wobbling and struggling to get around. “Humans domesticated them and then abandoned them. I love flora and fauna. They’re interesting and exist much more differently than we do.”

“Does that mean you like my tattoo then?”

“Not everything needs to be about you. It’s not like people will forget you exist when you don’t force yourself to be at the center of conversation.”

This stings him the tiniest bit. Either you’re probing into an insecurity or he’s reading too deep into what you’re gathering from your conversations with him. “If I wanted to have a pseudointellectual conversation, I wouldn’t ask a vapid model to psychoanalyze me.”

“Your opinions are unoriginal and stereotyped just like your ideas about romance,” you say, finally turning around to face him again with those haunted eyes. He’s unamused now, clenching his jaw and all. “A stupid athlete wouldn’t be my first choice for a ‘pseudointellectual conversation’ either.”

“You look down on others and judge them, so what makes you so different from all those ‘scum’ you hate? How are you exempt from your own standards?”

Do you realize you’re displaying similar behaviors to those you’re scolding him over?

“Well, there’s a simple explanation for that,” you say. Kaiser is expecting an argument or something, but you kind of floor him with your follow-up. “It’s called hypocrisy. I’m probably just as disgusting as the average person.”

“Your life must be miserable if you look at everything through this lens. What was the phrase, rose colored glasses? Yours must have shit smeared over them.”

You shrug then make a 50/50 motion with your hand. “My life’s neither good nor bad. I’m indifferent on the subject.”

“Uh huh.” Kaiser considers this, then his lips twitch up, and then his smile broadens — it’s snide and smug again, and you come to the realization that he probably doesn’t know how to smile in any other way — before he inches a little closer to you. Not enough to brush against you, but enough to count as an attempted provocation. “I think people like you shouldn’t be considered alive. Legally speaking. And if we’re being figurative, you’re obviously already dead.”

You frown at him, since he’s kind of right. The fact that Michael Kaiser has the capability to discern truths you don’t want to hear rubs you the wrong way.

“Speaking of birds,” you start, deciding to change the topic, “you remind me of a peacock.”

“Wrong.” He’s pouty now. You find the expression cute, but when you catch the thought you throw up in your mouth a bit, so you ignore it. “I’m clearly a swan.”

“The fact that you have a preference when it comes to what animal you’re considered is sad.”

“And you’re entertaining. Let’s hang out again soon even if those sorry fucks don’t suggest it.”

You find it bewildering how he calls his PR manager’s input a ‘suggestion’ and seems to think he can do whatever he wants. Which, maybe he does, seeing the way he conducts himself. You’re also tempted to tell him to make up his mind on whether he enjoys your company or not, but there are more important matters right now. “We’re not supposed to do that, I don’t think.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Why this desire all of a sudden?”

“It’s what I want.” What impeccable reasoning. “I think I can make you enjoy yourself,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. Not for your merit or anything stupid.” Kaiser offers what you’d describe as a flamboyant hand wave in the air, demeanor laced with complacency. “I think it’d make me feel really charitable and generous if I can manage to add something to your depressing life. Give me a chance to try.”

“Word of advice,” you scoot away from him to the point the edge of the bench is digging into your ass and it honestly hurts, “you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. How you phrased it disgusted me again.”

Kaiser finds your favored terms interesting. Everything is sickening and disgusting and vile and scummy from your perspective. Deep down for reasons he doesn’t want to ponder, he can relate.

“Great. You’ll come around soon,” he promises, with the confidence of someone who thinks this is a game he has a high chance of winning.

___

Kaiser makes it a point to inflict his presence onto you as much as he can afford to with your schedules, even though there’s no need for it. Not that you refuse him either. He’s kind of interesting to keep around, in his own Kaiser-ish way.

Earlier today he invited himself over to your house. He’d decided you need to come up with a story about your ‘relationship,’ but didn’t wanna discuss it through text messages. Apparently he has an interview coming up and wants to be prepared in case they ask him about you.

“How did we meet?” you ask, sitting on the other side of the couch and leaning against the armrest, away from him.

The answer is immediate: “I saved you from a burning church.”

You question what other fantasies this man could probably have because that’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. Your voice somehow remains flat despite the bewilderment when you ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s flashy and dramatic.”

“But if anyone searches it up, they’ll see there haven’t been any… burned churches?”

“You’re such a killjoy.” Kaiser sighs. “It makes it sound mystical.”

“No it doesn’t,” you say, rather flippant about the entire thing. “It makes you sound like a pathological liar.”

“I like your sense of humor.”

“Thanks, but I’m not kidding about this.”

“Then what do you think it should be?” Kaiser asks. Obviously the purpose of this inquiry is to criticize your choice of scenario — even you can anticipate such a predictable move.

You roll your eyes and then look away from him in contemplation. You hadn’t really thought about it, since you don’t do interviews, and therefore you don’t need to concern yourself with hypotheticals on the matter. “Some kind of party, maybe. Post-match celebration?”

“Makes sense,” says Kaiser. “Doesn’t compel me, though. Boring.”

With a hum, you try to imagine what would both appeal to Kaiser and sound realistic. Though he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s swayed by practicality. “I went with someone else, but you swept me off my feet so hard, you stole me away from them.”

“I guess it sounds plausible enough while still having an element of fantasy.”

“Is the idea of me liking you the ‘element of fantasy’?”

“Yeah… That’s why I want it.”

You didn’t expect such a response. It has you looking at him weird. You do so often anyway, but now you do it for longer as if trying to glean something. In response Kaiser tells you to take a picture since it’ll last longer. The reply seems extraneous and distracting, and that only makes you feel more suspicious of him, which is weird since you’re not sure what you’re even inferring.

___

Officially it’s your fifth date with Kaiser, unofficially it’s the tenth. This time you’re holding up a frog in your open hands.

He doesn’t know what the point of all the nature-themed outings is — maybe to make him seem down to Earth in the public eye since he’s become notorious for how insufferable he is? Either way he doesn’t care, and he’s not the type to wander at landscapes, but your affinity for ugly animals is kind of cute.

The frog isn’t some special one either. No crazy colors or anything, just a regular green tree frog (according to your expertise). You let it jump onto your palms, since apparently touching their skin is bad for them or something. Kaiser scrutinizes it in distaste, staring down into its big eyes while it croaks. “So you can handle a disgusting amphibian, but you can’t hold hands with me.”

“I see you’re still thinking about that.”

“Well, it was insulting. And besides, it’s never happened to me before.”

“You’re not so bad. I don’t think I’d vomit if we brushed against each other anymore.”

Kaiser seems curious but nonetheless pleased with this development. “Why the change of heart?”

“Because you listen to what I say,” you tell him.

He somehow resists the urge to piss himself laughing at the sound of that. “Your standards are so low. It’s so sad that it’s funny,” he says. Maybe he would’ve dedicated some more time to teasing you over it, but he comes to a realization which immediately lifts his mood. This must mean he’s in your good graces somewhat, and not many people seem to fit there, so that makes Kaiser special to a degree. Right?

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Who would’ve thought someone who looks the way you do would come out like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think you were one of those kids who, like, shoved sticks and leaves in mud and called it a potion.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean now?”

Kaiser lets out an annoyed sound, tired of elaborating. “It means I think you’re strange.”

“Hmm, I bet you do,” you say. “There’s a quote I like: ‘It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.’”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s the kind of message you love. What’s it from?”

“Interesting story,” you say. “This is Jiddu Krishnamurti’s most famous quote, but it doesn’t appear in any of his books. Allegedly he said it to some other guy.”

Kaiser blinks and nods, maybe trying to keep a pretense of having the slightest concept of what you’re on about. “Whatever, got it. I can’t remember the last time I read a book. Maybe I’ll check him out.”

“You don’t seem like you’d be interested in that type of thing,” you say, staring at him as if you’re trying to figure him out.

“Actually, I am. Can you stop taking every chance to insult me?”

“I’m not. At least not on purpose… So, what are your hobbies, anyway? You never told me.”

“I practice. What do you take me for?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “That’s it?”

Kaiser opens his mouth to justify himself even though there’s no need to be defensive — maybe it’s that he feels like he’s lacking in some department after you bring your attention to it with your little response and generally Kaiser hates to be insufficient. But before he can argue and try and talk himself out of whatever perception you have of him now, an interruption happens.

The frog, which had been lazy and content with merely existing in your grasp, springs without any warning. It leaps out of your fingers and lands on top of Kaiser’s head.

Today you learn Michael Kaiser screams at an ear-shattering frequency when he’s startled. Soap opera level of shock and overreaction.

___

It is when you’re eating at a trashy place for lunch that Kaiser’s looking at his phone, which you find rude since you’re supposed to be spending time together and whatnot. He eats like a pig, too, not graceful at all — you wonder what his fans would think if they saw him with crumbs over his mouth and sauce on his chin. Good material for a public embarrassment campaign, you think.

But it’s in that moment that he finally wipes himself with a tissue and reaches out to all but shove his phone in your face. “Look, we’re so hot!”

You grace the picture with a dismissive glance before looking back down at your meal, disinterested. You already know enough about Kaiser to assume he’d get a kick out of power couple fantasies. And other power fantasies. Really, you find it pathetic.

It was something out of the photoshoot he was showing you, his favorite you presume. Even someone like Kaiser, who has conventional features, isn’t perfect when it comes to these unreasonable standards. He’d been way too stiff next to you while he posed and though his face is symmetrical, his expressions tend to stray to one side, and obviously it’d been corrected.

There’s a mismatch between you on the covers and your image in the mirror. Maybe your brain is exaggerating the disconnect, but every time you see them, it’s like staring into an airbrushed, distorted amalgamation. In other words, you prefer avoiding both the edited products and your reflection whenever you can.

“We don’t look like that,” you say, offhand about his enthusiasm as you are with most things.

Kaiser scoffs and then very blatantly tries to compare between whatever version of you he has on his phone and the you in front of him. There’s not a single good thing you can say about his decision — it’s making your skin crawl just knowing it’s what he’s doing.

“Close enough,” he deems after careful examination.

“I don’t think it’s me.”

“It’s quite literally you.”

“I don’t think anything is me. Like I’m just what I see. My perspective, my point of view. You get what I’m saying?”

“No?” Kaiser says, laughing at you and your apparently strange affliction.

“Well if not that, you have to admit things captured on camera aren’t real.”

“What are you talking about,” Kaiser asks in a flat tone, which leaves it as something less than a question. A few more snickers escape him and he’s grinning at you like a bastard — if at first he regarded you as a slightly more fascinating bug than the rest, by now you must be his favorite, the rarest… A tree lobster. “You make no sense.”

“It totally makes sense. Imagine we’re having sex-”

“What kind of stupid come-on is that?”

“It’s not a come-on, I’m explaining. So, imagine we’re having sex-”

“In what position?”

“Whatever you want as long as it works for the scenario. Anyway, imagine we’re having sex-”

Kaiser laughs harder and then attempts some seductive sort of expression which doesn’t land with you. “I’m imagining it,” he informs.

“Shut up and let me get to the point. Imagine we’re having sex and I’m recording it-”

“Wow, I didn’t take you for such a pervert? Not that I hate it.”

“-so I’m looking at you through the camera lens. The phone’s between us. I’m not, like, in the moment with you. My mind’s absent, it’s all digital. So if you think about it we’re not even really having sex.”

“... You’re losing me even more,” Kaiser says after some contemplation, finding the fantasy unpleasant all of a sudden with this new spin to it. A moment passes during which he takes another big, possibly exaggerated bite, but he at least has enough decency to chew and swallow before adding, “I think you just have a problem.”

You roll your eyes, wondering if he even entertained the thought, but shrug since it doesn’t matter in the end. “Why are we always talking about how I’m weird? If anything, you're eccentric, not me.”

Kaiser wrinkles his nose in offense at the notion and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture in the air. “No. I’ve turned out totally normal. Don’t put me at your level.”

A lot of curiosities spin around your head concerning Kaiser’s behavior whenever you meet and you’re yet to find an answer. What does he want? Clearly he’s comfortable with and used to wanting, but what is it? Attention? Money? Fame? Status? All, none? Will it ever be enough? Is it even the kind of hunger which can be satiated?

Who is he when he’s not playing this ridiculous character?

“I can’t get a read on you,” you tell him.

“Well, you’re socially inept. I doubt you can get a read on anyone.”

“So are you.”

Kaiser feigns hurt over this. He does that a lot. Maybe he finds it hilarious, maybe the performance is all for shits and giggles — who knows.

“I want to dissect your head,” you say after a while of silence.

“Really? That’s what you wanna do with me?”

“Mhm. With a scalpel. I’d make an incision around your temple maybe.”

“My beautiful and demented angel, is that your way of saying you wanna get closer to me?” The sentence comes out mocking with a paper thin smile, but there’s a sense of admiration in it. What for? You raise an eyebrow in visible confusion at the… nickname, but Kaiser doesn’t elaborate. To take away from the tension(?), he announces, “You’ve got something stuck between your teeth,” pointing at your mouth all amused.

___

Kaiser had an ulterior motive in accepting that deal. Though wording it this way makes it sound like some calculated, opportunistic, sinister scheme, when in reality it’s nothing beyond immature and a little humiliating.

Of course, in true Kaiser fashion, when looking to meet someone, he goes straight for the most convoluted option. So when the stupid idea came up, he agreed, even if he put on a bit of a show at first and acted irritating. Confessing to wanting friends is so embarrassing. He’d rather shoot himself at point blank or perhaps commit an act of auto-defenestration than admit the real reason for participating, much less in front of you.

Despite the jabs, you’re also not bad at all. Calm and uninvolved in anything that upsets him and without any expectations towards him.

At first he found your indifference derogatory, but as the months have passed by, there’s a sort of comfort in knowing that he could’ve been some random guy off the street and you would’ve probably treated him the same. In front of you he is neither on a pedestal nor someone to be knocked down on his knees. More Michael than he is Kaiser.

Things have been teetering on a dangerous edge lately. His mind is wandering off towards you again, more and more often each day. Like maybe he’s excited for the next time he sees you or something else repulsive in a similar vein, a giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. Is this what it would’ve been like to be a little boy with a crush?

Generally he prefers not to socialize with background characters. So he doesn’t know why it’s while he’s having some benign daydream about you that some newbie he hadn’t bothered remembering the name of decides to interrupt him. Besides, it’s inconvenient, he was supposed to be leaving and this guy is blocking the changing room door.

“I heard you’re banging a model,” he says, as if they’re good pals or some shit. Kaiser is also mostly immune to annoying locker room talk since all the other psychotic men he knows are too busy being as fanatical as him to waste time on something as useless objectifying someone to pass the time, yet here this lowlife is.

Kaiser regards him with a judgmental side eye — for a second too long, almost television-style — and tries to move and sidestep him. “Why do you care? Pathetic cuck.”

“Woah, don’t be like that. I just thought it was funny. I’ve heard about that person before, would’ve thought it would be more of a hit it and quit it type thing. Yet here you are, still together.”

The emotion that zaps him is almost disorienting. Kaiser bruises easily, but it’s all about him. There’s never been much room for anyone else in his mentality of suffocating self-absorption, a depressing way to try and compensate for anyone who’s ever wronged him. Right now, though, he’s feeling anger on someone else’s behalf. A borderline exotic situation.

“So I was curious if that thing about loonies being the best at fucking was true? I’m assuming it is ‘cause I don’t know why else you’d stay with a schizoid.”

In the heat of the moment, when he’s pissed off, Kaiser is not the most poetic wordsmith. Thankfully politeness and civility are sensibilities which elude him. Without a second thought or any regret, he makes use of his water bottle still in his hand and dumps the entire contents of it over his head before elbowing him out of the way while he’s still confused.

___

You really don’t want to be having this conversation.

For fuck’s sake, you’re on break. And isn’t that supposed to mean relaxation? Yet the other model for the shoot today has been bugging you with unpleasant questions, putting you on the spot.

“Isn’t he a narcissist, though?” she asks, refusing to let go of the topic no matter how unresponsive you’ve been.

“I guess? Maybe. In a way…”

“You’re sooo… I don’t know. Like, you don’t even sound sure about what you’re telling me.” She narrows her eyes at you, leaning in a bit closer. “Aren’t you scared of him? Or is it ‘cause you’re so sheltered, you don’t know not to mess around with guys like Kaiser?”

Scared of him? It sounds ludicrous. At worst he’s whiny.

“He’s harmless,” you say. “Just a little rude and preoccupied with himself, that’s all. Actually, he’s an interesting and attentive person.”

She covers her mouth and lets out a sound of amusement, apparently now finding you more convincing and therefore dropping her worries. “He was saying you guys are suuuuuuuper in love with an interview.”

Not too engaged with the topic — since it’s about whatever lies Kaiser told the interviewer to entertain himself — you ask, “Is that what he was saying?”

“Yep. Didn’t you watch?”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe he’s ‘interesting and attentive.’ I mean, I don’t believe it, but whatever. What about you, though? Do you like him, let alone love him? Can you even like anyone? I mean, shit, you know how you are. So, like, can you? Are you suuuuuuuper in love?”

You avert your eyes. “Yes,” you say. It’s true. You do like Kaiser well enough, probably more than you should. “And stop making assumptions about him and me.”

“What if I don’t stop? What are you gonna do?”

That’s… A very good question because there’s nothing you can do at the moment. Seems like a good opportunity to weaponize your reputation of being a deranged serial killer. “I’ll lick your eyebrows.”

You don’t know if your delivery is persuasive or not, but the idea you’d do such a thing must come off as believable enough because she makes a strange face before backing off.

___

You despise being in situations. And making decisions.

There’s a stupid PR meeting again. Your manager, who you think should move onto writing trashy novellas instead of administering poison to your career just because his imagination is overactive, proposed a new stunt. With the fake relationship running its course, you were discussing ways to publicize the ‘break up’ and he suggested a cheating scandal. Not to mention his great idea had you as the cheater — you swear he’s praying on your downfall at this point.

Maybe you’ve been treated as some kind of fucked up creature incapable of thought and trustworthy decisions, something insentient, you would’ve went along with it like always. Even though you know you’d look bad, the point is to make noise, and it would be a scandalous story if not anything else. Another indignity doesn’t matter much on an endless list.

Then Kaiser in true Kaiser fashion declared that he wants to keep the relationship going. To you, such an act of flippant defiance is unthinkable.

But obviously this forces you into a position where you need to pick between your options. They’re all staring at you, waiting. Kaiser is smiling at you from across his seat like you’re in on a joke with him. Anxious, you say, “I’ll think about it,” and stand up to leave.

You’re sweating because somewhere within you wanna announce ‘Yeah, I wanna keep seeing Michael Kaiser,’ but it’s so preposterous.

Kaiser doesn’t chase after you (though it’d be his style to do such a thing solely for the drama), but he catches up to you by the time you make it outside of the building, approaching the parking lot.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, stop ignoring me. Heeeeeeey.”

God he is such an annoying pest sometimes. You turn around to face him, snapping, “What?! What was that about anyway?”

“No, what’s with you? What is there to think about? You don’t want to look like a clown in front of the world, do you?”

You’re looking at Kaiser again like you’re trying to figure out a mystery. He always wants things, but what does he want from you? There has to be a reason for this. Otherwise, he should’ve been fine with the separation instead of trying to prolong it.

“Listen,” says Kaiser, a little apprehensive at your silence and expressionless gaze, “I can tell you barely tolerate your shitty job and that you probably don’t like the moronic idea your anthropomorphized cyst of a manager came up with, so why aren’t you protesting it?”

Those are objective enough observations. However, “Anthropomorphized cyst…?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kaiser huffs, irked. “And by the way the fake meek act isn’t cute at all. They’re making money off of you. Tell them to fuck off and die and stop acting like a hostage.”

“This is very inspirational and all, Kaiser, but how about you tell me why you wanna keep the fake relationship going?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you don’t want that either, you can say we’ll settle for ending it instead of-”

You cross your arms. “Again, your attempts at a pep talk are adorable and appreciated, but you’re changing the subject now.”

“They’re not adorable. I’m right. Say I’m right.”

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent with a roll of your eyes.

Kaiser smiles snidely and clasps his hands behind his back. “Thanks,” he says in a sarcastic tone. Then you expect him to entertain your question, but he doesn’t, leaving you in an uncomfortable staredown against him and his stupid ‘beautiful glowing blue orbs’ ass eyes.

“Answer me,” you demand.

“Your unpleasant personality and reclusive ways have bewitched me.”

…

…

“… What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Kaiser says with too much attitude considering the situation. Like, he just spoke out one of the most absurd sentences you’ve ever heard.

“Do you have a brain tumor?”

The outrageous suggestion makes him scoff. “Really? You think I need a brain tumor to like you?”

“Maybe,” you say. “Should’ve let me operate on you when I offered.”

“You’re mentally disturbed,” he replies like the fact turns him on or something.

“So were you asking me out or what?”

“Yes? No? Yes. Yeah, fine, I am.”

“Do you search up ‘personality’ on porn sites?”

“Come on, be serious. I mean what I’m saying and I want to give things between us a try. Do you?”

You cringe as if admitting your feelings or overall being in touch with them in the first place is a physically painful sensation, but in your defense you think you might throw up. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him tomorrow. My manager, I mean.”

Kaiser swings an arm around your shoulders, visibly pleased with the way this is all going. He sings, “That’s the spirit.”

What had he wanted from you? Affection and care, apparently. You think back on when you’d called him ‘disgusting’ and a foreign guilt overcomes you since you don’t usually lament the remarks you make during your misanthropic hissy fits.

Is it fine for someone such as yourself to also indulge in wanting? Hesitant, with shaky arms, you embrace him around the middle, the gentlest of hugs. Kaiser freezes for a moment as if he’s unsure what to do when he’s not the one initiating things, but eventually returns the gesture. Melts into it, even. Two existences brushing against one another, at first glance contrary yet perhaps similar in many ways.

When you finally pull away from each other little by little, Kaiser says, “Let’s elope now.”

You sigh. “You sure have a way of making everything sound way more exciting than it is.”

(He drives you back to your place, but still sucks at driving. Chivalrously, he avoids crashing the car, though.)

___

Yall I was drinking light yellow tap water for a few daysdo you think somethings gonna happen to me ?

Btw I hate this but it's finally finished after like around a month so whatever lol I' M FREE

Pookie bear is pookie bearing

HEYYYY I just stumbled across your account and you’re already one of my favorite jjk writers😩 You have Toge’s personality DOWN TO A T 🙏 I was wondering if I could request him with fluff prompt 22?

Thanks so much for taking time to read this 💜 hope you have a great rest of ur day!!

𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄

~ inumaki toge ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : there’s no connection like like that one of your first love, you’re sure that thanks to that love you won’t ever have to suffer from cold

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, stablished relationship, childhood friends, as always: onigiri ingredients are in japanese!

‧₊˚ a / n : omg THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WAITING i took too long, sorry! I hope it’s worth it 😭 i also remember you asked me to add what song inspired this! i wrote it with Only by LeeHi on repeat and also History by Kina Grannis for the childhood friends/first love vibes 🙇🏼‍♀️ enjoy ~

Unexpected raindrops chased you and Toge down the school’s entrance, until you made it safely under the roof of the dorm’s hallway. You turned around, panting and watching as the rain poured down, angrier by the second. If you would’ve known the morning sun would disappear like that a fluffy sweater would’ve been your outfit of choice, instead of your current sleeveless shirt. Icy wind provoked shivers down your spine. You turned towards Toge, who had left his bags on the floor, palms against his knees. He yanked down his collar to breathe better.

“That was close! Are you alright? Did the rain soak you?”

“Okaka” he shook his head, standing straight and ruffling his slightly damp hair. The sight warmed your chest, the way his silvery hair strands reflected the light and his lavender irises searched for yours, a smile slowly found a home in your lips. Your childhood friend rose his brows and pointed towards you with his chin “tuna?”

“I’m fine” you tried blinking away the sudden wave of adoration that washed over you, biting your tongue to suppress the way your body had started to shiver.

His eyes noticed though. They always did.

“Takana?” he motioned 'cold' by putting his hands over opposite shoulders, rubbing his arms.

“No, no i’m okay, let’s just go back to your room and leave this bags there.”

Toge eyed you up and down, clearly not convinced, but he picked up his bags and then walked up to you. Your eyes curiously watched him, lips smiling wider, until his hand swiftly stole one of your bags right from your hands.

“Hey!” you clicked your tongue, quickly trying to get it back “Come on, I can carry it, it’s not that heavy.”

Biting his lip to stop a chuckle, he stepped away from you and held all his bags in is right hand, extending his arm and keeping them as far from you as he could.

“Okaka” he stuck his tongue out, left hand finding yours and intertwining fingers, pulling you towards his dorm. The familiarity of his touch always felt like suddenly being complete. Ever since you were kids, his presence was the only thing that would give you that spark of happiness. No one else would make your smile reach your eyes like him. He was the only one. Smiling again, you bumped his shoulder with yours.

“I see, you just wanted and excuse to hold my hand!”

Toge rolled his eyes, tilting his head away from you.

“Blablabla”

You gasped, laughing afterwards and pushing him with your shoulder once again.

“Toge!”

He chuckled, a bright smile decorating his lips and a sigh of content leaving yours. You squeezed his hand, relishing in the warmth that his touch provided. It didn’t take long to finally get to his door at the end of the hallway, and the moment he let go of your hand to open the door it suddenly felt like the rain had found a way to get inside your bones. So you went back to biting your tongue and tensing your body’s muscles to keep down the involuntary trembling. The door opened with a creak, and hoping to take shelter from the threatening wind you hurried inside, heading directly towards the table to place the only bag you had been left with. Toge closed the door and soon placed the remaining bags next to yours. Unlike the wet chilly wind outside, the icy atmosphere of the dorm room felt more like empty dry cold, and it ended up making your body shudder once more. Toge’s eyes stared at you intently, quirking an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine” crossing your arms you cleared your throat.

Chuckling, he extended his arms towards you and motioned for you to come close with his hands. “Come here” you almost heard the well known but rare sound of his voice out loud. You raised your eyebrows, a hearty laugh escaped your chest.

“Can’t you just offer me a sweater or something?”

Toge frowned in annoyance, pulling a face and waving you off. You laughed once again as he walked right past you.

“Wait! No!” chuckling, you hurried to stop him, tugging from his jacket “A warm hug would be nice”

With a knowing smile, Toge turned around and hugged you, sliding his arms right underneath yours and almost picking you up.

“Woah, you were eager for a hug weren’t you?” you giggled as your arms wrapped around his neck, placing a quick kiss in cheek.

Toge snorted and looked away, a soft hint of pink tinting his cheeks.

“Okaka”

“You’re such a bad liar!” you laughed and ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

Toge sighed, a smile tugging gently from the corners of his lips. He then leaned in an kissed your right cheek, then the left one, then your nose, and quickly started peppering your face with little kisses, making you laugh.

“Toge!” you tried to pull away for a second, but his arms around your waist didn’t let you.

In the middle of laughter, you stopped him by cupping his face in your hands, his soft violet eyes shining with slight mischief when they rested on yours. This time it was your turn to sigh.

“I love you Toge” the words left your lips naturally, just as the feelings had surged in your chest throughout the years.

His smile widened, and then he leaned in the rest of the way to catch your lips with his. The feeling of his lips sliding on top of yours so tenderly and sweetly made sure to warm your face in an instant, that feeling of love blooming in your chest chasing away the coldness that had taken ahold of your muscles before. So did his soft silvery hair strands in between your fingers, the smell of that cologne you had bought for him years ago lingering in his clothes, and the taste of that lip balm you had been sharing for the past few months. The cold had been long forgotten there in the arms of the only true love you had ever known.

im having the craziest isagi hyperfixation rn

JUST MAYBE .ೃ

pairing. isagi yoichi x gn!reader

genre. strangers to .. hopefully something more? | slow burn | chance encounter

content/warnings. 2.3k+ wc | characters are in their early 20s ! | pro-athlete!isagi | reader works in a bookstore | profanity | a bit heavy in narration | written in reader’s perspective |  minimal proofread | ooc!isagi (sorry it’s my first time writing for him..) | open ending

in which: a cafe encounter with a stranger shows you exactly how well fate intervenes

💭 thank you for the request anon!

this is it. this is the last straw.

this is the last time you’re ever allowing yourself to be vain and believe empty words from a man.

sitting in a café, self-pity takes hold of you as regret washes over your being. the nagging feeling, the hollowness in your gut that you should have paid attention to, now mocks you with its undeniable presence. how could you have ignored it, brushing it off as if it were insignificant?

the bustling café seemed oblivious to your disappointment, the air thick with the laughter and whispers of couples lost in their own bliss. their happiness, a stark contrast to your own melancholic state.

you glance at your phone, the screen displaying a conversation that adds salt to the wound.

you: let me know if you’re on your way! [2:06 pm] you: hey, i’m already here :) is everything fine? [2:43 pm]

a heavy sigh escapes your lips, the weight of anger and embarrassment settling upon your shoulders. 

dating in your early twenties has proven to be far more challenging than you ever imagined. while your friends effortlessly navigate the labyrinth of love, you find yourself trapped in a cycle of dashed hopes and unfulfilled connections. 

here you are, once again left sitting alone at a table meant for two.

and you know it's destructive to point fingers at directions pointing to you, but for goodness sake, can anyone just tell you what's wrong with you? or can fate simply provide apparent signs, allowing both you and the divine to save precious time? 

because it's becoming increasingly draining. 

the cycle repeats itself relentlessly: falling in love, only for it to unravel into a cacophony of screams and tears. your heart shattered, you gather the pieces and muster the courage to try again, only to wonder what awaits in the next stage of this never-ending cycle.

and you can’t help but to wonder, when will it ever be your turn? if other people could experience a love so kind, why can’t you? why can't you have what they have? what makes you any less deserving?

is it really too much to ask for a love that doesn't demand a piece of your soul as collateral? can't there exist a love where vulnerability isn't met with heartache?

and coming from someone who has been gravely hurt in the name of so-called love, it’s impossible not to wonder if such love even exists in this world or if it's merely a figment of your imagination born from those contemporary romance books you read on your lonely nights.

well, there's no use crying over spilled milk. he wasn't all that anyway. besides, you had only agreed to this supposed date due to your friend's persistent nagging, urging you to break your self-imposed “man ban” streak and venture back into the world of romance. “why not?” you had thought at the time, only to be reminded why you even imposed such a ban in the first place.

“excuse me, is this seat taken? the place is kinda packed, so if you don’t mind..” 

lost in your thoughts, you're momentarily startled as a soft voice interrupts your reverie. the stranger before you stumbles over his words, shyness coloring his demeanor.

you take a moment to truly see him— this man who has unexpectedly entered your sphere. and heavens, he is gorgeous.

“no, it’s not taken. please, feel free.”

with your response, the stranger settles into the seat across from you. as he takes a sip from his cup, your nose takes a whiff of the inviting aroma of his latte, which fills the air, adding another layer of warmth to the already vibrant café atmosphere.

taking a contemplative sip of your own drink, you savor the flavors that dance on your tongue. the comforting embrace of the warm liquid spreads through your body, soothing your senses.

his blue-eyed gaze drifts toward your own drink, curiosity evident within those pools. “what drink is that? it looks intriguing.”

you can't help but internally chuckle at his attempts at small talk. your drink is nothing spectacular, let alone intriguing, but the fact that he wants to make something out of it gives you a glimpse of his endearing shyness.

still, you smile, pleased by his interest. “it's actually their signature drink. i find it quite enjoyable. and your latte? it looks divine.”

well, you’re not any better than his attempts. seriously? what looks exceptionally divine about a latte?

the man in front of you nods appreciatively, taking another sip from his cup. “nothing grand, just a decaf latte. i find it soothing and energizing, especially on slow days like this one.”

you hum in response, seemingly out of attempts for small talk. but the lack of a coherent response from you doesn’t elicit an uncomfortable silence, but rather the opposite. a cozy silence settles between you, the ambient sounds of the café serving as a gentle backdrop to your now shared sphere.

after a few minutes of sitting in silence, you notice from your peripheral vision that he steals a few glances your way, as if waiting for the right moment to strike up another conversation.

cute.

it's an understatement, as a matter of fact. the guy before you is downright mesmerizing. if you could gaze at his face for more than two seconds without being called weird, you could map the entirety of how blessed this man’s face is — the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he speaks, the subtle strength in his jawline, and the way his hair falls in a perfectly disheveled manner.

and his eyes. damn, his eyes. such a beautiful shade of blue must have taken the hand of god some time to create.

“so –”

“what –”

the two of you speak simultaneously, your voices overlapping in the air, prompting you both to take a moment and stare at each other before laughing at the coincidence.

“you first,” you offered.

“no, you go first.”

you offer a warm smile and motion for him to go first. “i insist.” the truth is, after seeing him laugh, you momentarily forgot what you were even about to ask.

it’s just a laugh. get it together.

were you this deprived of someone’s company to melt at their laugh? or is this stranger just so painfully beautiful that it’s now affecting your memory and ability to converse?

his lips curl into a shy smile as he hesitates for a brief moment. his eyes flicker with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “alright, well, i was wondering... do you come here often? i don’t think i’ve seen you here before.”

you shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “not really. i'm actually a newcomer here. i work at a bookstore nearby, and i stumbled upon this place by chance.”

it was two truths and one lie. and as apparent as it was, you sure as hell didn’t “stumbled upon this place,” where in truth and fact, you were invited here by your supposed-to-be date who might have forgotten to reply to you two hours after your last message.

“the bookstore on the main street? it’s a huge place, that’s so cool. my friend, chigiri, has been meaning to visit there. maybe i’ll try to tag along some time.”

a blush crept up your cheeks, touched by his admiration. it was a stark contrast to the belittlement toward your job you had encountered in past dating experiences, and this wasn’t even a date. “thank you. i’ll be happy to help you and your friend when you drop by.”

“so, what do you do, mr…?” you asked, trying to delve deeper into the conversation.

“oh, pardon me for not introducing myself properly. i’m isagi yoichi, and i, uhm, play soccer for a living. it's not as impressive as being surrounded by books all day, though.”

isagi yoichi. soccer player.

so that explains the hint of a lean physique beneath his clothes – not that you were checking him out. anyone with eyesight could detect that this gorgeous stranger, isagi, is in great shape. yup, definitely not checking him out.

“and yours?”

“hmm? sorry, what were you saying?”

a soft smile tugs at isagi's lips as he repeats his question, “i was just asking about your name.”

you bring your attention back to the present, realizing you've momentarily lost yourself in his gaze. “oh. it’s l/n y/n.”

as the words of your name hang in the air, a sense of familiarity begins to settle between you. you and isagi engage in a comfortable conversation, effortlessly weaving in and out of topics. each exchange reveals more about your respective lives, forging a connection that feels too genuine for people who just met not even an hour ago. 

isagi shares stories from his soccer career, the highs and lows, the challenges and triumphs. his passion for the sport shines through in every word, and you find yourself captivated by how animated he is in sharing his tales. it's a pleasant break from your previous experiences, where self-importance seemed to be the common thread among your dates. 

with isagi, there's no trace of conceit hanging in every word. 

in turn, you open up about your love for literature and the joy you find in sharing stories with others. isagi listens attentively, his eyes sparkling with interest as you speak about the power of words and the magic that exists within the pages of books. 

while it becomes evident that he may not be an avid reader himself, there's a beautiful acceptance and respect in the way isagi listens. he never once made you feel as though your love for literature is any less significant than his passion for soccer.

amidst the lively exchange, you catch glimpses of isagi's gentle nature, his ability to make you feel at ease, and his genuine curiosity about your thoughts and experiences. it's a refreshing change from the superficial interactions you've had in the past, and you're left wondering if the man in front of you is even real.

you can't help but laugh at the thought of men being able to hold a conversation like isagi. and while that proves that the bar may be in hell, but damn, it is as if isagi raised it above his own head.

time seems to slip away as the conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and genuine moments of connection. there are no awkward silences, no need for pretense or guardedness. it's as if you've known each other for much longer than a chance encounter in a café.

just when you think the moment might stretch into eternity, isagi’s ringing phone slices through the air, abruptly breaking the spell. 

his eyes widen, a touch of regret flickering across his face as he retrieves his phone from his pocket. “ah, it's my teammate. i'm afraid i have to head out first,” he says with a tinge of disappointment.

your heart sinks a little at the prospect of parting ways so soon. “oh, it's okay. i had a nice time, isagi,” you reply, attempting to mask your disappointment.

“me too,” isagi responds, his voice filled with a hint of tone you’re feigning ignorance too. “i wish we could talk more.”

you can sense the hesitance in his words, the unspoken desire to extend the encounter. it's an opening, a moment of curiosity lingering between you. seizing the opportunity, you decide to tease him ever so slightly. “hmm, well, that call seemed important,” you remark, raising an eyebrow playfully.

you’re not dense, but you were curious to see how he would try.

isagi fidgets, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, i think so. we have an upcoming match next weekend,” he stumbles over his words, clearly struggling with the invitation he's about to extend. “speaking of the match, would it be too forward of me to invite you to watch?”

wouldn’t it? 

your heart flutters at the invitation, and for a brief moment, you contemplate the possibilities.

this day had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions. one moment, you were nursing the wounds of being stood up, wallowing in self-pity and contemplating the challenges of dating. and now, here you were, being invited by a complete stranger — a stranger who also happened to be the most captivating person you've ever laid eyes upon.

fate be damned, because it seems to have a wicked sense of humor, toying with your emotions from one extreme to another.

glancing down at your cup, you swirl the remaining liquid, feigning nonchalance to mask the racing thoughts in your mind. “depends on who you want me to attend as,” you tease, curious to see how he responds.

you raise your eyes, locking eyes with isagi, only to find him wearing a boyish grin that could rival the sun and staring at you with those damn blue eyes that put the oceans to shame.

“anything you can offer to be, right now.”

fuck it. 

with a surge of boldness, you decide to take a leap of faith. “then i would love to be there.”

the energy shifts as isagi beams at your acceptance of his invitation. he bids you goodbye, only to hesitate and return to you with an endearing awkwardness. he offers his number, tripping over his own words as he suggests you can call him whenever you want. you can't help but laugh at his adorable awkwardness, finding it endearing beyond measure. you hand him your phone, and with hurried movements, he inputs his number before bidding you goodbye once more.

with a smile lingering on your lips, you watch isagi's retreating figure, feeling a warmth radiate through you. your gaze then shifts to the phone in your hand, where you see the contact name you've set for him. 

maybe: isagi yoichi

why not, right? you're down to take the chance.

because maybe, just maybe, one more try wouldn’t hurt this time.

note. welcome to isagi mimi debut omg i kinda do not like it but huhu this trope is so hard for me to write, i’m not gonna lie. but i surprisingly had fun making this hehe. and i’m not really a fan of instant love soooo, here’s the best i could do ._. i think i would rather opt to make a sequel than a time skip so let’s leave it at that :>

thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event

POOKIE

everytime i’m reminded that isagi likes thighs my day gets a lil brighter

he’s had a long day? he’s coming over to your place and dropping his head in your lap. your thighs are soft and squishy, like marshmallows. it’s even better if you have muscular thighs — the feeling of the muscles flexing beneath his head is absolutely addictive. he could stay there all day.

and he does. you have to remind him that you can’t sleep over, and isagi looks up at you with the saddest, biggest puppy-dog eyes ever. “my parents won’t mind if you stay for a li’l longer, i swear. i already asked them!”

his fascination with your thighs get even worse when he comes back from blue lock. the pillows there are fine, decent, really. they do the job, but they’re thin slabs of cement in comparison to the delicious plushness of your thighs. after he gets home and greets his parents, he’s already texting you, begging for you to come over.

12:09 p.m — r u busy?

12:11 p.m. — can u come over? pls 🙏🏻

as soon as you get in the house, he’s dragging you to his room, making sure you’re comfortable, and then wrapping his arms around your thighs and nuzzling his face against them.

isagi could be sweaty, hungry, absolutely exhausted from training or studies, and he’ll still find time to lay his head in your lap. your thighs are one of his favorite parts of you, and he’ll never let you forget it.

☆ ... notes:

first time writing for a bllk boy </3 so if this is ooc, sorry. im also not caught up on the manga :V didnt do fancy format for this bc short, but lmk if yall like it. anyways, hope yall enjoyed, toodles!! :33