𝙨𝙚𝙩, 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠, 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙪𝙣𝙩 | 𝙖. 𝙢𝙞𝙮𝙖

6 ᡣ𐭩

The dream felt more vivid than any I'd had before, as if every detail was sharpened to a point. I was standing in a dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight flickering around us. The air was thick with warmth, the kind that pressed in on you, making it hard to breathe, but in a way that felt intoxicating.

Atsumu was there, close, too close. His presence filled the space between us, his eyes darker than usual, searching mine like he was seeing something no one else could. There was something electric in the air between us, a tension that hummed like it was waiting to break.

He stepped closer, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, his hand brushing against my arm, slowly trailing down until his fingers barely touched mine. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a shiver down my spine, making the space between us feel both unbearable and electrifying.

"Is it okay?" His voice was low, rough around the edges, and it sent my heart racing.

I nodded, unable to form words, my throat tight as the air thickened between us. He took that as permission, his hand moving to the small of my back, pulling me against him, the warmth of his body instantly enveloping mine.

My breath hitched as his other hand came up to gently brush my hair away from my face, his fingers grazing my skin in a way that felt far too intimate, far too deliberate. His touch lingered, his thumb brushing against my cheek as his eyes flicked down to my lips, making my pulse quicken.

"You have no idea how hard it is not to kiss you right now," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The way he said it, raw and unfiltered, sent a jolt of heat through me, making it impossible to focus on anything but the nearness of him.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as his hand slid down from my cheek to my neck, fingers curling lightly against the sensitive skin there. His thumb brushed over my jaw, and the way he was looking at me—like he was holding back something more—made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.

I leaned in, almost instinctively, the tension between us snapping tight. I could feel his breath against my lips, the heat of him so close that it felt like I was burning from the inside out.

He hesitated, just for a second, and then he closed the gap, his lips pressing against mine in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was deep, hungry, like he had been holding back for too long and couldn't stop now. His hands tightened on me, pulling me even closer, and I could feel the heat of his skin through my clothes, every point of contact making me dizzy.

His lips moved against mine, slow but deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. My hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as I felt the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm, strong and quick.

He broke the kiss for a second, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing heavy. His hand slid down my side, fingers brushing my waist as he pulled me closer again, his voice rough with something I couldn't quite place.

"I don't want this to stop," he whispered, his words sending a rush of warmth through me that left me breathless.

Neither did I.

Before I could say anything, his lips found mine again, this time slower, more deliberate. There was a heat between us that made the air feel thick, each kiss deepening the connection, making it harder to think, harder to breathe. His hand slid up my back, fingers tangling in my hair as he tilted my head back, deepening the kiss until I was completely lost in him.

I could feel every inch of him pressed against me, his touch igniting a fire beneath my skin. My heart was racing, and I felt like I was drowning in the warmth of him, the heat of his lips, the way his body seemed to fit perfectly against mine.