If This Is Bad Ignore It - Blog Posts

˚✶ * too sweet w/ atsumu 

m.list / wc: 466

    it can't be said i'm an early bird. it's ten o'clock before i say a word. music plays throughout a speaker system, a sultry voice ringing through your ears. you rest your head in your palm, free hand creeping towards his back. the midnight moon lets little light into his apartment, just barely illuminating his figure, shoulders and head outlined. 

  your finger, runs up his back, feeling his raised spine. you keep telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. but then you wake up for the sunrise. delicately pressing your finger against his skin, you reach the nape of atsumu’s hair. soft, short pieces of hair stick up, goosebumps forming from your touch. they feel comfortable beneath your touch, hand spreading out to run through his recently shampooed hair. 

  don't you just want to take up, dark as a lake. he shifts in his sleeps, eyelids barely fluttering before his chest raises and falls normally. biting your lip, you lower your hand to his neck, running down to his shoulder. freckles appear as your hand moves, the sprinkles of light brown drawing your eyes. i'll think i'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black, and my bed at three. you're too sweet for me. 

  running your finger down his arm, you feel the hair raise on his arm, trying to call his attention. narrowing your eyes, you outline his bicep, a smile forming on your face as it tightens beneath your touch. following down the rest of his arm, you reach his hand. pressing your palm against his, you interlock your fingers between his. atsumu’s hand is soft, care put into every crevice and spiral. even the callouses brush against your hand with a grain of tenderness.

  but who wants to live forever, babe? you treat your mouth as if it’s heaven’s gate. leaning over him, your eyes trace every aspect of his face. the lightness of his skin, the delicate touch of his moisturized lips. he’s curated every inch of his being, a brightness that only a certain person could love. the rest of you like you’re the tsa. i wish i could go along, babe, don’t get me wrong. staring at his blonde stricken hair and glowing skin, you purse your lips.

  untangling your hands, you lean back against the bed. his silk sheets surround you like a cloud, airy beneath your touch. warmth still pressing against your leg, his tied around yours in an unconscious attempt to cling to you. to cling to the idea of you. you know you’re bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. if you can sit in a barrel, maybe i’ll wait. yet you fear if he clings too hard, you’ll destroy him. 

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