THE MOST ATTRACTIVE PERSON IN THE ROOM
timeskip iwaizumi x gn!reader ft. msby + osamu, akaashi | 1.5k words, swearing, implied alcohol, suggestive?
“okay, iwaizumi, i dare you to…” hinata drawls, tapping the wooden floor beneath him—the beat of the song that he’s gotten stuck in everyone’s heads today, you note.
“hmmm….”
“this is why we can’t play truth or dare with you, shoyo.” atsumu groans, though there’s a lopsided smile that accompanies it, before taking a sip of his drink. condensation drips down the side and he wipes it with the sleeve of his jacket.
“as if you didn’t steal my dare idea last turn!”
“can’t steal somethin’ that was never yours in the first place.”
“huh? i literally said it out loud.”
“i thought it before y’said it.”
“what?!”
“holy shit, get back to the dare.” osamu snorts and throws a pillow at their heads. “’m gonna have to retire by the time hinata comes up with 3 syllables.”
you laugh softly from your spot on the couch above. hajime snickers next to you, his arm hanging loosely above you.
not around you, of course. just above, on the couch, close enough to brush your head every time you lean a little too far back—which is why you’ve curled further into the edge instead, feet tucked under the throw blanket you had gifted hinata a few months earlier.
emboldened by the conversation as distraction, you let your eyes shift to loom at him. his cheeks are flushed, and eyes crinkled as he watches his team in amusement. there’s an almost empty drink in his left hand, more clinking ice than beverage. but he brings it to his lips to take another sip, and you watch, and you wish you could stop watching, but your eyes seem fixated on his lips as they meet the edge of his glass, and the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
the sound of bickering is muffled, and you should look away, really, it’d be embarrassing if he caught you, but he’s scratching the side of his neck, and he looks really good, and—
“okay, fine, iwaizumi.” hinata brings your focus back to the room and stares with sudden determination. “i dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.”
the two stare at each other. no immediate snarky remark or laughter follows.
you blink.
you think everyone blinks, actually.
your eyes flicker to hajime again, and you watch his mouth again, though this time it opens and closes twice, three times, as if words would appear if it silently lured them. “...i—what?”
“pfft—”
“don’t feel like getting kissed tonight, sorry, bro. alright, bo, you’re up next, right?”
“oh! yeah, wait, we’re skipping iwa?”
“oh, shut up, ’tsumu, like yer dumbass is the most attractive person in here.”
“i am, actually. objectively, even.”
“you have a twin, atsumu.”
“not seein’ your point here ’kaashi?”
“y’callin’ me ugly?”
“technically jus’ less attractive, but yeah, yer ugly.”
“guys,” you warn. you think bokuto’s still confused on who’s turn it is, while osamu’s put his drink down and sitting up straighter. “drop it. and hajime, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“yeah, but you’ll have to take a shot,” atsumu interjects.
“thought you as the self-proclaimed ‘most attractive person’ were gonna stop him anyway. was he supposed t’drink a shot if he picked ya?”
“no, we would’ve both taken shots.”
hajime raises a brow. “what? as the guy who’s supposed to have the dare—what the hell kind of logic is that? you know what—”
he lets out an exasperated sigh and moves his arm from behind you to rest on his thigh. and it’s not like it was touching you in the first place, but the vacancy makes the back of your neck feel a little colder. “fuck it, i’m tipsy enough.”
“fine, y’can kiss my cheek—”
“i’m not kissing you, atsumu,” hajime just less than growls.
atsumu puts his hands up in surrender while hinata snickers, and you think osamu’s building up to an “i told you so,” but you’re too busy watching the man next to you to really know.
there’s tension in his shoulders as he places his glass on his coaster—one of two that have actually been used, the other drinks leaving rings of water in their place. it’s a wonder that hinata has any in the first place.
your eyes move from his leg that’s started to bounce, to his hands that start to fiddle with the watch on his wrist, and then his mouth where he bites a lip.
and then they move up again, just a little higher, to his eyes—
which are already set on you.
neither of you say anything. but then his eyes flicker down to your lips, and a quick heat builds in your face, your ears, your neck. something in you thinks it must be a joke, but hajime’s already flushed face turns more red, and the (big) part of you that has a crush on him is just a little happy it seems to be because of you.
there’s no time to process that further though, his silence is enough to get the attention of the others anticipating his choice.
atsumu only looks between the both of you for a second before clapping his hands together. “ohh, ohoho—”
“ooh, iwa!”
“huh? ohh—”
“can you guys be normal for 2 minutes?” sakusa sighs and leans back into his chair, deciding to stare at the ceiling instead of his teammates if only for a moment. “and if you two are going to kiss, can you do it faster before my brain shuts down?”
“rude.”
hajime ignores them and clears his throat before facing you properly, shifting so one leg is propped on the couch underneath him. taking it as your cue, you sit up and collect your blanket to one side.
the room hasn’t been this quiet since you arrived first and offered to help set up. but it isn’t suffocating—the quiet is a buzz, and seems to sit in anticipation just as much as you.
“can i?” hajime asks softly.
you nod, your only hesitation is in wondering if he’s serious.
but even a little hesitation is enough. his lips purse, and a concerned crinkle appears between hajime’s brows that you almost want to reach to smooth out, its existence, you promise, unnecessary. he says your name. “seriously, we don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”
you’re shaking your head before he’s done his sentence. “it’s okay, haji.”
“ooh, haji—”
“shuddup, ’tsumu.”
“is it weird i feel awkward watching this?”
“aw, c’mon, ’ji, they’re cute.”
the conversation is an odd comfort as it dulls the sharp attention on you, the tension your body seems to hold everywhere.
hajime moves closer, shrinking the gap between you until your legs touch and you can count the inches between you on two hands. his cologne is easy to notice, and you wish you could pinpoint the fragrant notes, maybe write them down in your head to look for later. (you wonder if that's a weird thing to do.)
the lips your eyes had lingered on maybe a dozen times just tonight are a lot easier to watch as his tongue pokes out to lick them. subconsciously, you do the same.
then a hand comes up, hesitates before finding place on your cheek, and you let yourself lean into its touch. it’s odd—how you wished the arm behind you on the couch would accidentally move a little closer just a few minutes ago, and now your face is being held instead. you wonder if you could ever get used to it.
for a split (embarrassing) second, you even let yourself wonder what it would be like to wake up to the same touch and owner in bed beside you.
hajime looks at you, and you smile when your eyes lock. and maybe it’s your own drink kicking in, but you reach for his free hand to lace your fingers in between his as you nod once more, look at his lips one more time.
his chest rises as he takes a deep breath.
“seriously, guys, if ya don’t kiss already ’samu’s gonna start going bald.”
“the fuck?”
you can’t help the laugh that escapes you or the warm breath that hits hajime’s skin, nor can you fully get rid of the smile on your face as hajime murmurs what sounds like a “for fuck’s sake,” beneath one of his own and leans in.
and then he kisses you.
and you think there’s cheering, clapping and something about losing a bet on who’d kiss who first.
but it doesn’t matter—not while you’re finally finding out how soft hajime’s lips are, while his grip on your hand tightens, while his thumb rubs your skin and fingers moves closer to the back of your neck to pull you closer, closer.
your free hand comes to wrap around his shoulder, and he lets go of the other to reach around your back. somewhere in the back of your head you wonder how long (how deep?) a kiss is acceptable in front of an audience, but you can hear, feel, hajime take a deep breath as he pulls you close enough that his chest is pressed against yours, and you think the others can look away themselves when it’s too much—there’s someone more important to you.
me after writing atsumu myself: wow he's so funny silly stupid 🫶 mann i don’t necessarily Want to know about perfumes and alcohol until i’m writing a fic and go ah. what the hell is a good scent. like girl what is Cedarwood ? not everyone can smell like..mint and vanilla. and how am i supposed to know what this guy would drink when all i’ve had is soju with raspberry gingerale / mango concentrate. which is rlly good btw. yummy...
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limitless (satoru gojo x reader)
notes: uh. should be working on my halloween fic lmaoo. but uh. thought i'd bang this out. inspired by a conversation with @shotorus about the names we use to refer to certain characters in narration. lmao.
contains: fem! reader (the only physical trait is that reader is shorter than gojo, gojo almost uses a gendered term for reader, but is cut off), established relationship (me: coughs up blood), typical gojo antics, nickname usage (darling, honey, sweetheart, babe), part of the infinite loop fic verse
wc: around 720
"...I have a question."
You look at Gojo expectantly. Normally, he just says whatever is on his mind without pause, without filter, so you don't get why he's standing on ceremony right now. "Yeah?"
"We're dating, aren't we?" he asks.
You nearly spit out your drink. He's not wrong; for better or worse, he is your boyfriend now. The fact of it is actually kind of unbelievable when you think about it. Not just you dating Satoru Gojo. But you dating Satoru Gojo. If you had told yourself that it would have come to this ten years ago, even five years ago, you would have thought yourself a liar.
Now he's the one giving you the expectant look, his lips curved upward that little smile that always manages to get your blood boiling. The cocky bastard probably just wants you to admit it.
You consider saying 'no' just for the hell of it.
You decide not to. It feels almost as if you’re pulling teeth when you respond, “...we…are.”
Gojo’s mouth puckers and you brace yourself knowing full well that he’s about to start whining about something. There’s always something with this guy…"If we’re dating, then why am I still just 'Gojo' to you? I call you by your first name!"
"You've always called me by my first name," you dead pan.
"That's because I've always loved you!"
You roll your eyes. You know that's a lie, but you don't intend to argue with him— at least not head on because you know that it’s just going to lead to a dead end. "No, you love disregarding proper social etiquette. Or rather, you don't see the point in it."
"Oh, darling, you know me so well!" Gojo gives you a saccharine smile and you almost gag.
"Don't call me that."
He pouts. "Well, if you say I always call you by name, shouldn't I call you something else to show how special you are to me?"
"...no, actually, just my name is fine." A nickname from Gojo sounds dangerous. The thought of being called some cutesy nickname in front of everyone you know is mortifying. In fact, Gojo would do it solely to embarrass you.
So, naturally, he ignores you. "If darling is no good, what about... babe? Honey?"
"Gojo, really, you don't—"
"Sweetheart? My love? Oh, I know, I bet you'd love to be called pr—"
"Satoru."
He immediately stops talking, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. You didn't think that that would have that much of an effect to be honest. For once, it feels like you have the upper hand. You make sure to savor the moment because you know they are far and few in between.
"Just my name is fine," you repeat. "...okay?"
He gulps and answers, "...okay."
You try not to let your mind linger on the fact that his voice just now was lower than usual. "Good. So—"
"Say it again."
You blink. "Huh."
"My name," Gojo says, his voice thick with emotion. "Say it again."
When you don't say anything he takes a step toward you, the infinite cosmos in his eyes staring you down. You feel defiant. It's not fair of him to ask you anything when he looks and sounds like this. Gojo takes another step closer and you think that if you're adamant about not giving in to him you better do it before he gets too close.
"You've... " you start and hate how breathless you sound. This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to you. "You've hit your daily limit."
Gojo pouts and takes another step. "Well, that's not fair."
"You're not fair," you retort.
He doesn't argue and you take that as Gojo admitting that he's playing dirty. "I think you should up the limit."
You hold your ground as he takes one more step closer.. "No. You think there shouldn't be a limit."
Gojo chuckles and leans down to bridge the rest of the distance between you. He cups your cheek, bringing your face closer to him. Your breath stills as you feel his own on you and it’s damn near intoxicating. His mouth is barely touching yours and your thoughts shift from trying to keep the banter going to how the slightest movement from either of you will result in a kiss.
“You’re right,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours. “There shouldn’t.”
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