Challengers And 5sos So Based Op - Tumblr Posts
THE FIT GOES HARD 🔥🔥🔥🔥
boxers / timeskip!miya atsumu x reader
genre(s) - slice of life??? friends with endless romantic/sexual tension between them, mutually oblivious pining up until the end, atsumu being a little BITCH :/, reader is so hot btw im saying it now you guys are so hot, hotter than the little BITCH atsumu (ngl i do fw his ass tho...)
warning(s) - suggestive but not nsfw!! atsumu being FUCKING ANNOYING, tiger balm if you get it you get it, and like crude humour which is just my branding atp sooo
wc: 1039
tldr; if you're going to make atsumu fulfil your fashion dreams, you better at least look good, which shouldn't be a problem if the only person judging is atsumu himself.
author's note 1: a man who yearns is a man who earns ;) and sometimes a girl just wants to write yearning men to escape from finals so
"'Tsumu, how does it look?"
You reveal your completely renewed, upgraded, rejuvenated outfit, with Atsumu's boxers peeking through the top of your jeans loosely. Perfect, down to the minute details. Once again, you had graced Atsumu's apartment in the middle of the night, for some redundant reason. Last time, it was to take his carton of eggs. This time, it was to borrow a pair of his boxers, of all things.
"It looks cool. Are we done now?" It looks better than cool, much more than cool encompasses. His favourite pair of boxers (definitely a coincidence) sits lopsided across your waist, your jeans holding them in place. The tie sits around your neck, trailing down your torso atop the half-buttoned, collared shirt. You look much better than cool. You look hot, and that is a problem. So much of a problem that Atsumu is resisting the urge to run up and press both hands against your waist, even tug at the waistband of his boxers. You know, just to adjust them. Like best friends do.
You shake your head boldly, contemplating whether you should drop the idea. But alas, you've come this far, even managing to secure a pair of his boxers. It's all or nothing for your fashion discovery now. You stare back at Atsumu, eyeing him up and down as your heart pounds and you consider your next words very carefully. A confused look greets his face, the same one he's made ever since he was in high school. The look that he makes at you when you offer to visit him and rub tiger balm into his shoulders in the middle of the night, or agree to go to all his volleyball games every single time, no matter the day.
"Can you kiss the collar?"
And that just about does it for Atsumu's fragile constraint. His face flushes instantaneously, a hand shooting up to rub across his mouth, before travelling behind his neck to massage it. You wait for a response, your clasped hands becoming clammier with every stagnant second that passes. A stick of red lip stain sits in your back pocket, all you need now is his green light. The air of his living room becomes a pool of slick oil, impossibly heavy, suffocating.
"Yeah, sure."
Your mind blanks. He was not supposed to say yes. You wanted him to, yes, that did not mean that he should have. However, it is too late to regret your proposition now, as you pull the lip stain from your back pocket and approach him on the couch. He winces at the colour, and your hand reaches to cradle his face, angling it just enough to apply the red all over his lips.
"So glamorous, Atsumu, you should be thanking me."
"Shut up, annoying," you manage to scarcely make out from his attempt to speak without moving his lips. He means that out of love, considering he used to call you annoying for actually showing up to his house to massage his shoulders after each match, nagging at you to get rest and leave his soreness be. All out of love between best friends, you're sure of it.
You let go, giving him free reign of your shirt. He looks up at you, pointing at the pointed collar, and you nod in approval. Risque, exactly what you intend to emulate. Shaking, he grabs ahold of your shirt, pressing a firm kiss into the fabric. You smell of the perfume he bought you in celebration of MSBY's first win. Oakwood, orange peel, vanilla. Of course, it was just returning your favour of offering to visit him in the middle of the night, and massage tiger balm into his shoulder blades for two hours.
He pulls away, taking a look at the shirt. Judging by your peculiar choices of a tie, boxers, and a half-buttoned shirt, this is far from risque enough for your liking. He tugs at your top again, peppering kisses across the hem, and you swear you are ready to drop dead right then and there. Not that he's never kissed you before, eight years of friendship does lead to his occasional kisses on your cheek at parties when the two of you would end up drunk off shitty mixers, or your affectionate kisses at the top of his head after match losses as he sits against changing room lockers. All a part of being best friends with Atsumu Miya. Yet as he continues his assault on your shirt, hands grabbing at the fabric tightly and hair tickling the skin of your neck, for the briefest of moments, you wish that he would bring the kisses up instead of across. Fleeting thoughts, pay no mind.
He stops, looking up at you. The lipstick is smudged across one side of his cheek now, and it takes everything in you not to grab his face, and kiss it off of him. His eyes flicker from your face, to your collar.
"Is this enough?" More than enough. You grab his face anyways, rubbing your thumb across the right side of his cheek with a click of your tongue. What a pity that your lipstick isn't ending up on you instead.
"You know, you look really good right now." You babble out before you can catch yourself, and Atsumu's eyes return to your face, boring holes into your eyes. You release his face, a knot forming in your throat as you register your sudden confession. Atsumu breathes out a chuckle, glancing and tugging at your collar.
"I did a pretty good job too, it's a shame I want it off."
He returns to your face, colour matching his red boxers, and your maroon tie, and finally fulfils your wishes as he brings his kisses upwards to your mouth. The remaining lipstick smudges around your lips as you hold his face, body positioned between his legs and your knee pressing onto the sofa. His arms fall back to prop his body up on the couch, surrending all control to your will. You pull away from him, and he almost sulks at the separation. God, he looks so fucking pathetic, staring up at you as if you're the subject of his waking dreams. He should definitely keep this going.
"Stay over tonight? Please?" He mumbles, nestling his face into your palm the way a cat does to its owner.
"Yeah...yeah, I'd like that."
author's note 2:
head empty, no thoughts, just mike faist in challengers, kissed collar shirts, and yearning men. Sometimes a girl just needs to listen to some 5sos and write about looking pretty in someone's boxers and lipstick stains :) Last happy fic I'll write for now, we're going back to giant bittersweet fics next time, might need to try some other characters from diff animes though...
also! this is a total change of style in how i usually write, i wasn't feeling particularly inspired, just wanted to rot and write to kill time, hopefully it's not too bad because it's definitely not my best work imo mmmmm :/
anyways tags!!
@starlysama @chuuya-brainrot @bailey-reeds @fiannee
ok im gonna go now love u bye bye kids