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kvtie444 · 3 months

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°•★ SOLO .4

a/n: this took so long omds, i luv this song Summary: reader moves to LA for work and becomes the sturniolos editor, but what happens when she falls for someone unexplected… Warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing, suggestive?

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

His words echo relentlessly in my mind.

"What, have you never been fucked senseless before?".

I toss and turn in my bed, desperate to find sleep, but my shameless thoughts make it nearly impossible.

"Well, if you wanna cum so hard you can't walk the next day, you know where to find me."

I groan and reach for my phone, checking the date and time: Friday, 4:18 am. The reminder of the car video I still needed to edit for today weighs heavily on my mind. I groan again, sinking back against my pillows, but as I close my eyes, vivid daydreams of Chris kissing down my body flood my mind. I try to push them away, reminding myself that he's practically my boss. I groan once more and turn over, attempting to banish the tempting thoughts.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Alone at the dining table, I stare blankly at my laptop screen, feeling the weight of the looming deadline for the car video. Nick had invited me over to make food and chill, providing a change of scenery from the unproductive comfort of my own bed. As he heads off for a shower, I'm left grappling with the hour-long footage I need to edit down for the video scheduled to go up in an hour.

But the task feels insurmountable. I doubt my ability to get the video out on time, and the guilt gnaws at me. One job, and I'm struggling to meet the deadline. I groan, running my hand over my face, pulling at the loose hairs that cover it. Exhaustion clouds my mind, sapping my motivation and focus. The pressure mounts swiftly, and I feel tears welling up against my palms as the overwhelming thoughts consume me. To make things worse, I could hear Chris and some girl he brought over downstairs.

As the door creaks open, I look up to see Matt entering the room, his expression filled with concern once he sees me. “Hey, hey, what’s going on” He walks over to me, his steps measured and gentle. With a comforting hand on my shoulder, he squeezes it reassuringly, his touch a balm to my frayed nerves. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I struggle to articulate my overwhelming emotions.

"I don’t know if this video will be ready on time, and it’s my only job, yet I messed it up," I manage to choke out, my voice trembling with suppressed sobs. Matt hushes me with a gentle shush, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down my arm. He murmurs words of reassurance, “You’re okay, everything okay, don’t worry about it”.

In that moment, I realize how fortunate I am to have Matt as a friend. His kindness and genuine concern envelop me, offering solace in the midst of my turmoil. I can't help but feel undeserving of his unwavering support.

My attention shifts to the stairs as I hear the sound of footsteps dragging themselves up them. Chris appears, clad in a black fresh love tracksuit, accompanied by some Instagram model wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, she walks to the fridge. Our eyes meet briefly through my bloodshot gaze, and I follow his movements as he leans against the counter.

“What’s up with you?” he mumbles, distractedly taking out his phone. Matt's glare intensifies, his jaw visibly clenched in annoyance. “It’s nothing, she’s fine,” he interjects on my behalf. I lower my gaze back to my keyboard, exhaling heavily.

As I focus on my editing, a flicker of movement catches my attention from the periphery of my vision. The girl leans in close to Chris, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispers something indistinct, punctuated by a playful giggle. With a dismissive gesture, she walks away, her hips swaying enticingly. I grit my teeth in frustration, seething at Chris's blatant disregard for boundaries.

Chris, true to form, can't resist one final display of arrogance, delivering a sharp slap to the girl's ass as she departs. I roll my eyes at his juvenile antics, feeling a surge of irritation and jealousy wash over me.

Left alone with Matt and Chris, I attempt to refocus on my editing task, but Chris's immaturity proves to be a persistent distraction. He reaches over and grabs the screen of my laptop, dragging it back to sneak a peek at my progress. I suppress a sigh at his lack of respect for my workspace. I grab the screen back and pull back to its original position.

“You on your period or something?”

The room hangs heavy with the weight of his words, a dense fog of tension settling over us as silence reigns. My gaze rises to meet his, finding his eyes hooded, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Can you go back to fucking your little girlfriend and leave me the fuck alone?" I retort sharply, the words dripping with venom as they escape my lips. Matt's reaction is palpable, his jaw visibly dropping in astonishment at the exchange unfolding before him.

A shift occurs in Chris's demeanor, a subtle transformation that darkens the intensity of his gaze. He leans in closer, his hands pressing down on the by the sides of my laptop, effectively trapping me in his presence. "Why? You jealous princess?" he taunts, his voice laced with arrogance.

I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down, and let out a scoff of disbelief. "Didn't seem so against it when we all went out for dinner," He continues. The realization of what he’s just said hits me like a ton of bricks, and I feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

"Fuck off," I mutter under my breath, breaking eye contact in a desperate attempt to deflect from the uncomfortable truth. His chuckle washes over me, his breath warm against my skin as he leans in closer, his teasing tone only serving to fuel my simmering anger.

"Don't speak to your boss like that," he teases, the words sending a surge of frustration coursing through me. My jaw clenches with determination, a silent vow forming in my mind as I refuse to allow him to undermine me any further.

"Chris, fuck off, you can’t say shit," Matt's voice cuts through the tension, gaining attention from all of us. They lock eyes for a fleeting moment before Chris releases a chuckle and retreats to his room.

I exhale a breath I didn't even realize I was holding as Matt rises from his seat and begins rummaging through his pantry, likely in search of a snack. Was this job really worth this much stress? Chris was hanging over me like a dark cloud adds another layer of stress I certainly didn't need. Did I even want to continue working under these circumstances?

Before I can entertain the thought further, a muffled sound interrupts our uneasy silence, causing both Matt and me to freeze in place. We exchange a glance, our expressions mirroring a mix of confusion. The sound repeats, growing louder and more distinct with each passing moment. It's unmistakably a moan.

My eyes squeeze shut in frustration and disbelief. Fucking Chris.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It had been a day since the whole kitchen incident, and while I managed to get the video uploaded only five minutes late, the lingering tension still weighed on my mind. As I walked home with my coffee in hand, a sudden ring in my pocket caught my attention. Pulling out my phone, I saw that it was Laura calling. My stomach churned slightly with anxiety. What if Chris had said something petty about me that could jeopardize my job? I bit the inside of my cheek nervously before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Y/N! I'm in a rush right now, but I wanted to let you know that at the end of the month, I've booked tickets for Hawaii for you, Madi, and the boys. Obviously, this is a great opportunity for the boys to do some sort of vlog, but you deserve a trip like this," Laura's voice came through the phone, her excitement palpable. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of a trip to Hawaii, but the smile faded as the reality of potentially spending time with Chris sank in.

"Yeah, that's amazing! Thank you! I'll definitely be there," I replied, masking my hesitation with forced enthusiasm.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tag list !!

@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer @daddyslilchickenfingers @mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @s1urnioloslvr @mattsbratt @mangoposts @christinarowie332 @recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333 @flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess @poopydroopt @byechristopher @solarsturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444 @thankyounextt @glossyfx @bellasturniolo @justurniolos @cl0esblogg @strumbolisworld @strniolosworld @chrisloyalgf @aliyahsbody @spideylovin @justangelheree @sturnioloenthusiast @nickmillersn1gf @soursturniolo@bernardenjoyer@stuniolobbg @luv4kozume@luvmxtt@urmommysbathroom@lexisecretaccx

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #angst #fluff #smut #imagine

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katyawriteswhump · 2 months

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Bed of Roses (steddie love month, day 17)

For @steddielovemonth, Day 17 prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl ) Thank you <3

Rating: M. CW: prostitution, unwanted kink/abuse/pet-names (NOT between Steddie) alcoholism, substance abuse. Tags: rockstar Eddie, rent-boy Steve, make-up fic, angst, shameless perversion of Bon Jovi lyrics. WC: 2,000.

...

“'Cause a bottle of vodka's still lodged in my head…”

In his dressing room, pre-show, Eddie grasped his second bottle of vodka in an unsteady hand.

“…and some blonde gave me nightmares; I think that she’s still in my bed.”

This was NOT GOOD. Eddie had gotten sap-fest Bon Jovi lyrics slithering around his brain. He couldn’t for the life of him remember his own lyrics.

“Hey, Amigo,” he announced to the vodka. “I got a venue of ten thousand to entertain, and you’re literally my Obi-Wan—my only hope.” He caressed the bottle’s label. “80% proof, huh, Baby?”

I’m serious, Eddie, you’ve had enough. You WANT to follow Kurt Cobain into the 27-Club?

Riiiight. That was not a Bon Jovi lyric. That sounded more like Steve Harrington, in sensible-parent mode, hands planted on his slender hips.

The tears struck fast. Eddie clonked the bottle onto the dressing table then followed it, pressing his heavy head to the glass.

He seriously didn’t want to die. However, he was so through with this life. Of any life, without Steve. The cavity where his heart once lay veered between grating emptiness and an unbearable pain.

His fingers twitched toward the bottle. Screw it, the show must go on, and he’d lost his only light in the darkness…

“… as I dream about movies, they won't make of me when I'm dead.”

That still wasn’t one of his own darn lyrics. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single goddamn word of any of Corroded Coffin’s songs.

A sharp knock on the dressing-room door had him squealing like a little piggy. An old guy poked his head in.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You hired me, Mr Munson. Dirk Gordon—Private Dick?”

“Ah… Yeah, so I did.” Eddie’s rotten heart hammered way too fast. “Have you..?"

“Yes, Mr Munson. I believe I’ve found him.”

…

“What do you mean, you're not gonna pay me?” Steve wrapped his arms tight around himself. The only heating in his boss’s rundown office came from the guy’s endless chain of cigarettes. “I spent the whole evening simpering at that old dragon. You told me she liked music—I talked music endlessly.”

“You yammered on about some death-metal garbage. She likes Wagner.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “What’s Wagner? That crusty old film-star?”

“Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve. What am I gonna do with you?” His boss sauntered around the desk and hooked an arm around him.

Jesus, you stink.

“You’re good-looking, kid, you’re charming, but you simply can’t cut it with that kind of high-end client.”

“She seemed happy.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, failing to shake the guy off him. “She paid you, right?”

“Not the full whack, and you got a fancy meal out of the bitch. Look, I’ll give you your cut, if you do better tonight.”

He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck. Steve tried not to shudder. When his boss produced a piece of paper and wedged it down the back of Steve’s skin-tight jeans, he stopped trying to hide his revulsion.

“Details are all there. He’s a banking exec, early forties—no more dinners and dances with Doris, you’re spending the night at his house.”

A dry lump clogged Steve’s throat. “Is he gonna want..?”

“Sex? Christ on a bike, what trade do you think you’re in?” He squeezed Steve’s butt.

“Jesus fu—” Steve bit his lip, fixed on his damp sneakers.

“Believe me, Steve, your hair ain’t your best asset. You’re gonna have to sell that plump lil’ ass for real, sooner or later.”

Steve flinched, then schooled his features as blankly as he could.

“This guy’s got a few kinks, but as Johns go, he’s a pussycat.” He lifted Steve’s drooping chin with his knuckles. “Show him what ya got, Sport.”

Steve couldn’t get out into the drab morning fast enough. He retrieved the paper from his underwear, shoved it in a pocket unread, then stumbled, zombie-like, into a diner. “Black coffee, please? It’s an emergency.”

The waitress smiled. “You want breakfast, Steve?”

He shook his head, though his stomach grumbled.

He ended up slumped on the table, his face pillowed in his arms. Christ, ‘male escort’ had never seemed like a great idea, but he’d figured the pay would beat waiting tables. So how come he was still behind on his rent, and that he still couldn’t afford to eat some days, let alone buy his pain meds?

He muffled a miserable laugh in his elbow. He genuinely wished he could afford to get smashed, get high, because nothing could fill that gaping black hole of pain. Even worse, one of his fave Bon Jovi songs was playing on the radio, and SO not helping:

“Tonight I won't be alone, but you know that don't mean I'm not lonely.” Shit! He was fighting back dumbass tears already. “I got nothing to prove, for it’s you I’d die to defend.”

Why the hell did he run away? He can’t recall any reason that mattered anymore. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he mumbled. “I miss you so much.”

Somebody touched his elbow, and he jolted up. “Sorry, hon,’” said the waitress, “we need this table for dine-in customers.”

“Right.” Steve swiped any tell-tale moisture from his cheekbones. “I’ll clear outta your way.”

...

“Ready for playtime, Bunny Rabbit?”

Steve’s skin crawled, and his face burned. He’d gotten his head in the client’s lap, and the guy was playing with his hair. It would be tolerable, he guessed, if he’d not so often laid in Eddie’s lap like this, and… Christ, Eddie! Steve shut out the unwanted touching and began to drift. He was so beyond tired. And that song from the diner crept back:

“Now as you close your eyes, know I'll be thinking about you. While my mistress—she calls me to stand in her spotlight again…”

The pinch on his cheek startled Steve back to the present. “You kipping there, Bunny Rabbit?”

“Uh… er, sorry, Daddy.” Uuuuuuurgh! “Whatever you want, Daddy.” He dared sit up. “I’ll grab a condom and, uh… stuff.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” When Steve went to rise, his arm was grabbed, and he was held in place. “I don’t like rubbers, Cutie.”

“You heard of this thing called AIDS?” Dipshit!

Steve wrenched his arm free. The guy raised his hand and slapped him. Which wasn’t exactly out-of-the-blue, because face-slapping had been listed among this repellent son-of-a-bitch’s kinks.

“I’m paying top whack for you.” He leaned over Steve, suddenly kinda huge and scary, not least because Steve now saw double. “Your pimp said you were clean, so I’m gonna have you any way I like.”

“I… uh…” Steve kicked the bastard’s shin and shoved him hard. “Go to hell, asshole.”

He fled out into the night, still dizzy from the blow. He pulled his mesh vest back on over his head. The icy wind bit, and he realised he’d left his only jacket behind.

“Jesus Christ! JESUS CHRIST!” He kicked a lamppost, holding back on venting the true force of his feelings. Still hurt.

He limped off up the street, fast as he could. The ache in his toes at least distracted him from the ringing in his ears. An hour later, he stumbled around the corner of his block, thinking only of throwing himself into his bed, while he still had one.

He was so close, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood suddenly on end. Through the haze of his exhaustion, he realised a car crawled up the gutter behind him.

Had Mr Happy-Slappy-Sleazebag come after him? Then again, Steve’s pursuer could be anybody. After all, he was walking through a red-light district, shivering his ass off. Dressed like the whore I am. Hahaha!

The car pulled up right beside him. A blacked-out window rolled down.

Steve ran, turning sharp up a dark alley, then… Shit, shit, SHIT AGAIN! He was only a hundred yards from his digs, and yet he was so messed-up that he’d sprinted up a dead-end.

He nearly kicked the bricks. Instead, he punched them, as if that would blast through the solid wall. He turned about, bit his grazed fist, and sank slowly onto his haunches.

Two figures approached up the alley, silhouetted against the lights of the street behind. Get up, Harrington! GET UP! His legs wouldn’t obey, and his breaths came only as rapid gasps. Nothing felt real anymore. Am I gonna die..? I’m gonna die!

A hand stretched out of the gloom.

Steve stared at it—at the familiar chunky silver rings, which couldn’t be real. He glanced up, and… wtf? It was Eddie, apart from it wasn’t Eddie. This dude looked more like Eddie’s ghost. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

Maybe I scored some Benzos after all, and totally ODd.

“Stevie?”

No mistaking that voice. If this was a trip, it was a good one. Steve pried an eye open, and Eddie’s hand was still there. Steve took it, let it help him to his feet, because… Why not? Suddenly, they were in each other’s arms, clasping each other tightly. This is real. You’re real! Eddie reeked of booze, and also of something devastatingly comforting and familiar. Somebody’s wretched sobs shook through them both.

“I’m s-sorry.” Steve sounded broken. “I-I honestly don't know why I left anymore. I was such an idiot.”

“No. I was the idiot. I’m sorry, too. So very fucking sorry.” Eddie sniffed hard, lifted his tear stained cheek from Steve’s shoulder. “I’ve not been doing so good without you.”

Steve blinked the moisture from his vision. He wondered if he looked as wrecked as Eddie—red-eyed and waxy pale, under the distant glimmer of the streetlamps. Probably. If he hadn't leaned against Eddie, his legs would’ve given out again.

He laughed, without knowing why. Eddie laughed too, and it warmed Steve’s soul. “Gonna be honest, Eddie—not been doing so good without you, either.”

…

When Eddie got out of rehab, Steve waited on the steps of the clinic, hand stretched out to take his. He pulled Eddie close, and then into a sweet, lingering kiss that renewed Eddie more thoroughly than even a lengthy booze-free sleep.

“I’m never going through that again,” said Eddie, his lips still brushing against Steve’s.

Not least because I never ever want to be parted from you again, even for a fortnight.

“Yeah, but you’re dry, Eddie, and you’re alive. I’d say that’s goddamn metal of you.”

They started back to the car, hands still clasped tightly. “Not gonna take credit, Stevie. You’re what got me through.”

“You might’ve got me out of a fix, so we’re even.” Steve’s sigh rode on a wistful sadness. “I mean, I was so lost. Thinking of you was all that kept me… I dunno, alive, I guess. You know, I kept on thinking about that Bon Jovi song.”

“Uh, you know how I feel about Bon J—"

Too late. Steve burst into song: “Well, I'm so far away, each step that I take is on my way home. A king's ransom in dimes I'd give each night to see through this pay-phone—”

Eddie pressed fingers to his boyfriend’s parted lips. “As much as I hate cutting you off in your prime—two teensy-weensy issues. Firstly, I had no idea where you were, and you never called! Second, what’s wrong with my blood-and-death drenched lyrics?”

Steve took Eddie’s fingers and kissed them: “Hurt too much to think about them.”

“You know what, Sweetheart? Hurt too much to sing them, without you around. Even though none of them are actually love songs.” Eddie raised his gaze to the heavens, and looped his arms around Steve. “Go figure.”

“You sure they’re not love songs? C’mon—they’re all secretly about me, right? Only coded or something. I’ll crack it one day.”

Steve’s gently mocking smile destroyed him, in the best possible way. They tumbled into a French kiss, and he resigned himself willingly to the only thing that mattered:

“And the truth is… Baby, you’re all that I need.”

...

Thanks for reading <3 Likes, comments and reblogs always much appreciated :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on ao3).

#steddielovemonth #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington whump #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #steve x eddie #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie x steve #steddie love month

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apricotsndots · 2 years

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Introductions can ONLY continue to go swimmingly from here.

(Also, shameless plug but I’ve recently underwent some major surgery, and medical bills have sapped my savings for a little over a year now. If you’re feeling generous, please consider sharing my gofundme!)

#criticalrolefanart #critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #cr3 #keyleth #bells hells #imogen temult #fearne calloway #fresh cut grass #chetney pock o'pea #orym #ashton greymoore #laudna #...in spirit anyway

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iris-writesx · 10 months

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Sap.

For @galladrabbles

i have both never written for shameless before and haven’t posted writing on this account yet, but i found this challenge as i was scrolling through the ian x mickey tag (as one does) and thought it’d be a good gateway into the fandom :)

that being said, i’d love to make mutuals on this account (follows and likes will be from my main @heytherejulietx ) or requests for ian x mickey fics, so those would be greatly appreciated, i need to wedge myself into the fandom somehow qkdjwjd

…also realised when i first wrote this i used the wrong quote so that’s why there’s two, whoops

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.” / “I can live for two months on a good compliment.” — Mark Twain

Half asleep, hunched over the sink as he brushed his teeth, Mickey pretty much just almost choked on his toothpaste as Ian waltzed into the bathroom. His shirt was unbuttoned, tie around his neck, and all Mickey could do was stare.

“You look hot, man,” The compliment was mumbled around his toothbrush before he could even think otherwise, and the smile that crept up on Ian’s expression was huge, too happy for the asscrack of dawn. “Jesus, get that dopey fuckin’ smile off your face, s’common knowledge.”

Ian, still smiling, leaned down to press a kiss to Mickey’s cheek. Sap.

#iris actually writes #galladrabbles #shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless imagine #ian gallagher x mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian x mickey fanfic #ian gallagher x mickey milkovich fanfiction

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outercrasis · 2 years

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Green Light

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Word Count/Rating: 6.7k / Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Warnings: Friends to lovers 💕, SMUT (seriously 18+ ONLY), dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, rough(ish?) sex, oral (f&m), fingering, a little bit of spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, a handful of good girl’s, mention of leg hair on reader, reader has hair that can be pulled/have fingers threaded through it

Summary: You accidentally see a video you aren't supposed to. Will it end your friendship with Marcus or bring the two of you that much closer?

A/N: Big thank you to @honestly-shite for reading this over for me 💕 I'd also like to thank @absurdthirst for reblogging the gif you see above, which broke through my writer's block on this idea and gave me the inspiration I needed. And last but not least, I'd like to mention the shameless nod to @whataperfectwasteoftime that I simply couldn't resist putting in here (specifically her Control series) 💕💕

You knock, tapping your toes on the doormat that reads hi. i’m mat. while you wait. The mat was an impulse buy after realizing the front entryway was littered with sand from having nothing to help take it off people’s shoes before they stepped inside. Marcus is obstinate in his belief that the mat didn’t help all that much and yet he’s never moved it. It brings a smile to your face.

The door swings open to reveal a very cozy looking Marcus. He has his sweatpants and a white tshirt on, which you know to mean he's already settled in for the night. You're surprised you don't hear a movie playing from the living room.

Marcus' brow furrows in that endearing way you love. "Didn't you have a date?"

"Yes and you can guess how it ended," you say before pushing into the house.

Marcus closes the door, leaning against it while he watches you haphazardly take off your shoes and jacket. "What happened?"

You sigh. "He wouldn't stop talking about crypto and at the end of the meal told me he doesn't believe in tipping."

"Yeesh. Where do you keep finding these guys?"

"Oh you know, apps and whatever else." You wave Marcus off, wandering into his kitchen to poke around his cupboards. You hadn't even mentioned your date asking you to order the cheapest item on the menu, leaving you feeling peckish.

Marcus pops open the fridge, pulling out a couple drinks for the two of you. You take yours graciously before finding an open bag of goldfish. Score.

You give the bag a little shake, asking permission to go ahead with your chosen snack. Marcus nods, leaning against the kitchen counter. It takes all your strength to not look him over. It's not your fault he looks so good all stretched out like that.

"Whatever happened to finding someone naturally?" Marcus asks. He can't even help himself, the big sap.

"That's for romantics and people with time, of which I have neither," you tell him. It's not a lie, although it's not really the truth. You did find someone naturally, except he's perfectly unavailable despite only standing two feet away. He doesn't need to know all these dates are a vain attempt to distract from that.

Marcus had moved into your little beach town just over two years ago and while the rest of your community was too chicken to figure out his story, you dove right in.

Early retirement from the FBI art crimes department, leaving a nice job and home in DC for a small fixer-upper a short walk from the beach. When you asked what he was going to do he smiled and said he was figuring that out. The two of you hit it off from the start.

You're not entirely sure when your feelings fell from platonic to romantic. By the time you figured it out though you were far in the deep end and Marcus was staunch in his resolve to not date.

He had given you his whole sordid romantic history, explaining his plan to remain single until he could be comfortable with just Marcus. His therapist thought it was a good idea too – having the time and space to figure out himself before investing heavily in someone else again. Who are you to argue with that?

Rather than lose an amazing friend, you chose to bury your feelings. You're an adult. You can control yourself. It even worked for a little while. Recently though, the romantic feelings have been rearing their head too often for your liking, resulting in your serial dates.

You'd hoped that at least one of your dates would sweep you off your feet, allowing your feelings for Marcus to return to purely that of a friend. Each one keeps falling short. They're too tall, too short, too loud, too quiet, too self-important, too serious, too childish, the list goes on and on. You know why they do. They aren't him. They aren't Marcus.

Now, stupidly, you've decided to lick your wounds from another failure in the home of the man unknowingly causing your problems. You hate that simply being around him is already making you feel better.

You breeze into the living room, snagging your usual spot on the couch. The TV isn't on as you expected but you spot his laptop on the coffee table. Marcus Pike spent his Friday night doing some online shopping then. He has mentioned that he’s been looking for a new easel lately, unhappy with the size and capabilities of his current one.

Marcus sits down with you and you fall into your normal positions. Both of your legs up on the cushions, with Marcus pulling the blanket off the back of the couch to cover your perpetually cold feet. You’re especially grateful as the stockings you have on don’t offer much in the way of warmth.

"No movie tonight?" you ask around a handful of goldfish.

"It didn't feel right without you here to talk over it," Marcus jokes. You ignore the heavy thump of your heart, throwing a goldfish at Marcus' head in faux offense.

He opens his mouth wide, catching it expertly and crunching down on the tiny snack. The grin on his face is extremely self satisfied, prompting you to throw another at him. You should have expected him to catch that one too.

From there you fall into your usual routine. You chat for a little while, with you being careful to avoid heavy discussion of your recent rash of dates, before Marcus inevitably finds a movie for you to watch. Tonight he’s chosen one of your favorites, a touching and small gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your legs end up tangling in Marcus’ – in part seeking the heat that he radiates and because you will gladly accept any form of physical contact he gives you, despite all the alarm bells in your head screaming. It's completely foolish and maybe even a bit pathetic to allow, but then your foot runs along the top of his thigh and any real thoughts go right out the window. It’s a good thing you’ve already seen this movie a thousand times over, otherwise you’d be completely lost with how distracted you are by Marcus tonight. You can only hope he doesn’t notice.

You’re a little quieter than normal during the movie, but it otherwise passes without incident. As the credits roll, Marcus shares an absurd bit of trivia that you’ve somehow never heard before and swears on his life that it’s true.

When you laugh only half as much as expected, Marcus suddenly moves in closer to you on the couch. Your legs are now firmly across his lap and he's studying your face like you were recently accused of stealing millions in valuable artwork.

"Are you okay?"

You've always appreciated that Marcus doesn't beat around the bush. You don't like it as much when it's turned on you. His right hand is splayed over your calf, pulling your mind in a thousand directions other than answering him.

"Yeah, what? Why?" you finally splutter in reply.

"You're too quiet tonight."

He studies your face further and you're terrified that somehow, just from looking, he'll know. Marcus will know and then he'll try not to hurt your feelings but once he knows your friendship will never be the same. How can it be after that? Your palms are clammy thinking of the awkwardness that will linger between the two of you. The way you’ll drift apart before becoming perfect strangers. You’re not sure you’re strong enough to go through that.

His eyes flash and you're certain he's figured it out when he asks, "Did that guy try something with you?"

"Woah okay, calm down," you say, pressing a hand against his shoulder. "He was an ass not a creep. I'm fine."

“You don’t have to protect him if he did. I still have contacts."

“I know I don’t, Mr. FBI. I’m just sick of all these dates that go nowhere, you know? I don’t know why I keep trying.”

You really don’t. None of them are going to compare to Marcus. You know it, your mom knows it, the universe knows it, and your lifelong companion Mr. Bear-Bear knows it. You slump back against the arm of the couch, closing your eyes in frustration.

"You'll find someone soon," Marcus consoles. You snort, cursing your luck that he of all people would be the one to say that to you.

Stopping your pity party before it really gets going, you crack open an eye to look at Marcus. His expression is indiscernible, but you can tell he's about to stay something. Abruptly, his expression changes and he asks, “Are you spending the night?”

You’re about to say no, that you’ll make the relatively short drive home, when a yawn sneaks up on you.

“Sure, why not?” Your plan for tomorrow was to wake up early-ish and drag Marcus to the farmer’s market in town anyway. He smiles, making your stomach flip.

“Do you have anything to change into?”

You look down, realizing that your date outfit won’t exactly be comfortable to sleep in. You can’t believe you wore an underwire bra for that disappointment. There might be some extra clothes in your car, but the prospect of going to get those now that you’ve decided to settle in for the night sounds miserable. The couch is so warm and outside is so cold.

Marcus is already getting up before you can reply. “I’ll go grab something for you to sleep in.”

If your brain didn’t immediately fry, you would have told him you’d be okay and that you’d make something work. Instead, you’re left open-mouthed at the thought of wearing his clothes. How the hell are you supposed to sleep like that? Wrapped in his scent, wishing that it was more than just the fabric he owns holding you tight.

You can’t help yourself – imagining his strong arms around you, the softness of his stomach pressed against your back. Turning to tuck yourself into his neck or chest, comfortable in the safety he'd provide. Moving one hand up to tease his curls that are in need of a trim or to run soothingly down his broad back.

Trying to calm down, you decide to look up the movie trivia Marcus mentioned. Nothing will get your mind off of being surrounded by Marcus' scent for the night like some dry movie fun facts.

You go to grab your phone, only to realize you left it with your jacket over by the door when you came in. Far too lazy to make the walk, you instead grab Marcus' laptop off the coffee table in front of you. He's not going to care if you look up some trivia.

You're taken by surprise when a video starts to automatically play as you open the laptop. Marcus must have been watching it when you arrived, the video pausing when he closed it. Your brain takes a moment to catch up, registering that this isn't some youtube video about art history or something. It's porn.

A flush of arousal courses through you. You picture Marcus laid out on the couch, getting comfortable before taking himself in hand, leisurely stroking his cock. A groan escaping his lips, slicking his hand with spit and precum.

A soft moan from the video snaps you from your fantasy. Embarrassment immediately washes over your arousal. You shouldn't be thinking of Marcus this way. He's your friend. Not to mention that you shouldn't be watching this video now and invading his privacy. You're thankful he hasn't come back from finding clothes to catch you.

You're about to frantically close the laptop when you realize you know this video. It's one of your favorites – hosted on a site with porn geared towards women, it's one of the best you've found. Both the actors seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves in the scene, allowing it to flow and progress naturally. You've long speculated they have some chemistry beyond the camera to make it work so well.

He's dominating without ever crossing a line into creepy or concerning and her submission feels real. It's not overacted with exaggerated expressions, fake moans, or loud and unnecessary shouts. More than once you've watched this and longed to be in the woman's place.

The video picks up right before one of your favorite moments. The actress is kneeling on the floor, completely naked, her hand slowly working up the exterior of her scene partner's pant leg. He's gently petting her hair, carefully caressing her cheek. He gives her permission to continue, her hands making quick work of his belt and taking out his cock. You know what comes next. You’ve watched it enough times to know it with your eyes shut.

Unbidden, you imagine a moment like this with Marcus. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of him instructing you to call him sir, his thumb running over your bottom lip before finally telling you to suck. Would he be gentle or would he continue to follow the video’s script?

The Marcus you know is considerably softer, with his dimpled smile and the creases of laugh lines around his warm brown eyes. The way he grumbles about “letting himself go” after leaving the FBI when all you see is a man happy and enjoying his life. You’ve had to keep yourself from commenting a little too obviously on how much you like his soft stomach more than once. Your Marcus will meet you at the bar, hands half scrubbed from oil paints because he didn’t realize how late it had gotten and rushed to get there on time.

You never allowed yourself to indulge the thought of this fantasy with Marcus, thinking yourself too off base. Why let yourself get swept up in the thought of something that was never going to happen? Some days it’s been hard enough without adding your deepest desire into the mix.

"This shirt has some paint stains, but they're old so-" The clothes unceremoniously drop to the floor, Marcus staring wide eyed at his laptop in front of you.

You snap back into reality, slamming the laptop shut. "Oh god Marcus, I'm so sorry. I should have turned it off the second it started playing. I'm sorry, I-"

Marcus rushes over to you on the couch. "It's okay, I'm sorry. I should have closed out of it properly."

Words keep tumbling from your mouth. "Sorry, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have helped myself. I’m so so sorry." The heat of embarrassment is washing over you in waves. You don’t know what this is going to do to your friendship, but your only hope is that it doesn’t ruin things. What were you thinking? You never should have kept watching it.

Marcus is wringing his hands, not looking in your direction. Have you already fucked this up beyond repair? He’s normally calm and collected in a heated moment, you being the one to lose your head. "It's okay, I just- I hope what you saw doesn't change your opinion of me."

You take the risk of moving closer to him on the couch. “Changed my-? What are you talking about?"

He exhales a dry, humorless chuckle. "Let’s just say not everyone in my past has been entirely kind or uh- understanding, about my tastes and… Well, I don’t want to lose you over it too.”

Marcus looks up at you with those big, sad puppy dog eyes and you melt. He can’t honestly think you would disappear from his life over this. Not only would that be a terrible and ridiculous thing to do as a friend, you know you won’t be able to get it out of your mind now. Actually knowing that his tastes very much align with yours.

Your heart is racing, but you force out your next words before you chicken out. “That would be awfully hypocritical of me.” Marcus’ eyes somehow become rounder, asking his question for him. “I think I have that one memorized.”

The urge to hide yourself away is nearly overwhelming. If you believed Marcus figured out your feelings before, you’re certain you’re giving them away freely now. You stand your ground though, keeping your eyes locked onto his and daring to reach out and brush an errant curl behind Marcus’ ear.

Eternity stretches between the two of you. A million thoughts race through your mind, certain that whatever happens next there’s no going back. You can only hope that things are about to change in your favor.

Finally, Marcus’ hands move. One falls on your leg, just above your knee, a bolt of electricity zipping through you at the contact. The other reaches up to cup your face, his large hand cradling your jaw. You immediately melt at his touch, nuzzling into his palm.

"I never thought-"

"I could say the same for you," you interrupt.

He chuckles, acknowledging that his general vibe doesn't really lend one to thinking that he'd be into BDSM. His thumb sweeps over the apple of your cheek.

You take a deep breath, trying to choose your next words carefully. "If we do this, this can't be a one time thing for me. I can't have you tonight and pretend nothing is different tomorrow."

He has to know it's nothing against him. If anything, it's the exact opposite. The idea of getting to have him but only once sounds like your own hell, worse than never knowing his touch at all. It's a misery you simply can't doom yourself to. Not after this long.

"Does that mean you'll stop going on all those dates?" Your brow furrows. Before you can get a word in, Marcus continues. "I know it's stupid to get jealous over someone who isn't officially mine, but I can't seem to help myself."

You move yourself into Marcus' lap, needing to be as close to him as you can. He has no complaints. His forehead presses against yours, one hand resting on your side.

"I was trying to distract myself from you," you confess. "I didn't want to push you before you were ready." You can feel his breath against your lips. His heart somehow keeps a steady beat under your palm.

"You don't need to worry about that anymore."

It's not clear who moves first. All you know is that Marcus' lips are on yours and that it's everything you've wanted for months. It doesn't take long for the kiss to deepen, his tongue sliding into your mouth. At some point, you lightly bite his plush bottom lip, relishing the moan you're rewarded with.

His hands are everywhere – pushing up your skirt, untucking your shirt, pressing your body against his, cradling your head. All you can manage is wrapping your arms around his shoulders or pushing a hand into his thick curls. You never want to come up for air.

Marcus breaks the kiss to leave a trail down your neck, trying to speak to you while he does it. "So- beautiful- been dreaming- about you- for- months."

Your thighs clench together, eager for any kind of friction. "I've thought about you too," you say.

There's a light glowing in Marcus' eyes. "What have you thought about?"

It's silly, really. To be here, exactly where you want to be, and to get shy now. Marcus' kisses slow down, waiting expectantly for your answer.

"I- I um, I imagined you touching me," you say softly.

You can feel the curve of Marcus' smile against your throat. "How, baby?"

His hand sneaks underneath your shirt, groping your breasts. It makes it harder to focus. "Your hands.” A gasp escapes you, Marcus rolling your nipple between his fingers. “Your m-mouth.”

You’re certain your panties are soaked through now. Any friction you can get from your thighs is not nearly enough to quell the ache burning in your core. You have no idea how Marcus seems so unaffected.

“I didn’t think you’d be so timid, baby. Are you sure you want this?” Marcus asks. His hands still, awaiting your answer.

Panic swells in your chest at the thought of this stopping. Your grip tightens on his shirt. “No, no please, I want this. I just um, I-”

“Need a little guidance?”

You nod, wide eyed and eager. You’ve never had someone affect you like this before.You’re not sure what it is – how worked up you already were, the suddenness of it all, or if it’s just him. The edges of your mind are already rounding out, desperate to please and follow Marcus’ lead.

Marcus guides you off his lap, gently pushing you back against the soft cushions of the couch. "Okay, baby. If anything makes you uncomfortable you say yellow to slow me down and if you want me to stop you say red. You got it?”

You nod quickly. “Yes. Yellow to slow, red to stop.”

Marcus gets down on his knees in front of you, hands slowly trailing up your leg. Your breath hitches as he reaches the top of your thigh highs, gently fingering the garter clasp. He looks up, eyes meeting yours, and you almost want to shy away from the intensity of his gaze. You never imagined it would be like this.

Marcus is always attentive. It’s one of the first things you noticed and appreciated about him. No matter how small or insignificant the topic, Marcus can make you feel like the center of the world – as though every word you speak is pure gold. Right now, he’s making you feel like the center of the universe.

"Can I?" he asks.

You nod your head.

"I need to hear it."

"Yes, Marcus."

He pauses, his gaze becoming pointed. He’s waiting for something. Your mind flicks back to the video and you know what he wants to hear. "Yes, sir," you breathe.

He leans down to kiss the side of your knee. “Good girl.”

Marcus unclips your garter belt deftly, his hands completely steady as he rolls your thigh highs down your legs. You cringe a little, remembering the last time you shaved your legs was months ago, resulting in the panicked urge to hide them from view in case your date chose to be an asshole about it. The concern you feel is quickly overtaken by Marcus kissing his way up both legs without a care, murmuring compliments as he rises.

His hands glide over your hips, meeting at the button on your skirt. “Did you get all dressed up for me? Were you trying to tease me with your cute little outfit?”

You squirm, remembering that you purposely chose the shirt you wore tonight because it’s Marcus’ favorite color. Somehow you know he knows.

“I wanted to tear it off you the moment I opened the door.” He pulls your skirt off, managing to snag your garter belt right along with it. Goosebumps erupt across your skin at the sudden cold air of the room and the thrill that runs along your spine.

Marcus moves quickly from there. He doesn’t bother with moving your panties out of the way, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders and hungrily mouthing at your pussy through the silky fabric. It dulls the sensation, but only ever so slightly. You can feel the way his saliva is dampening them alongside your own slick, his tongue tracing along the seam of your lips. Without thinking, you curl your fingers into his hair and pull him further into you.

He easily overpowers you, a hand wrapping around your wrist. “I’ll let that one slide, but I decide the pace. Do that again and I might have to punish you.”

Your pussy clenches at the thought of all that Marcus could do. How merciless would he be? What could his creative mind come up with? Still, you don’t want to push it tonight. That will be something to test out another time.

He returns to his task, allowing your hand to stay wrapped up in his hair. One of his fingers plays along the edge of your panties and just as you’re about to beg he slides it underneath the fabric and into your pussy. You cry out in welcome surprise as Marcus groans, quickly losing any resolve and using his other hand to pull your panties aside in order to wrap his mouth around your bare clit. You almost don't catch yourself before mindlessly grinding your hips downwards.

Marcus' patchy stubble leaves a perfect burn on your inner thighs. His one arm is wrapped around the top of your leg, keeping you firmly in place. The strength of his grip is not lost on you even as your mind begins to empty out. You haven't felt this good in months, maybe years.

A heady wave of pleasure crashes through you, making you realize how close you are to cumming. You frantically paw at Marcus. "I- I'm going to come, please- please, can I come, sir?"

Marcus' eyes snap open, his mouth barely leaving you. "Fuck, yeah beautiful. Come for me."

He pushes another thick finger inside of you, curling them to hit your sweet spot, and pulls you down onto his mouth. It takes only moments more and with his permission, you come undone.

Marcus works you through your orgasm, accepting your slight push against his forehead when overstimulation threatens to overwhelm. He's quick to reclaim your mouth with his, awkwardly draped over you and the couch. You've never seen him smile so brightly before.

"I knew you'd look gorgeous when you came." Your cheeks burn at the compliment.

Marcus pulls you up with him, taking a moment to make sure you're steady on your feet. You only stumble the tiniest bit. His hands fall on your hips, playing with the hem of your shirt. "Take this off, baby. Let me see you."

You're more than happy to comply. The look in Marcus' eye emboldens you, prompting you to let your bra and thoroughly ruined panties fall to the floor as well. Marcus breathes in sharply before pulling you in for another messy kiss.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming," he whispers.

You reach down and give his ass a small pinch. "Is that proof enough?"

Marcus chuckles. "Go to my bedroom. I'm not done with you yet."

You take a couple steps away from him, pausing when you realize he's not following. Marcus arches an eyebrow. "Did I tell you to stop walking?"

"No, sir."

"Keep going then. I'm enjoying the show."

You feel like you need a pinch to make sure this is all real. This night began by you hoping to drown your sorrows and now you're living your wildest fantasy. If it isn't real, you hope you never wake up.

Knowing what he's up to, you throw an extra away into your hips, more than happy to give him a show that's worthwhile. The soft groan you hear tells you it works. You pause in the doorway, throwing a wink over your shoulder towards Marcus. His hand is over his groin, the grey sweatpants doing nothing to hide his arousal, even from a distance.

You're not sure what to do once you're in the room. He didn't give you any instruction beyond coming in here. Trying to imagine what he might like, your thoughts drift back to the porn video. Deciding it's better than nothing to go off of, you move towards the bed and kneel down beside it. You place your hands in your lap, patiently waiting for Marcus to enter the room.

No more than a minute passes before Marcus walks in. He's looking directly at the bed before he realizes you aren't on it, but beside it. Your mouth is watering – beyond thrilled that he chose to take his shirt off before walking in.

You adore the way Marcus' body has filled out and softened in the time you've known him. There was never anything wrong with his fit FBI body – but this version of him takes the cake. He's less lean than before, the hard work of fixing up his home and consistent, full meals packing on both layers of muscle and fat. Marcus likes to bemoan the stomach he now has, but you've been kept up late more than once by the simple thought of kissing it.

"Look at you," Marcus says. "So damn sweet, waiting for me. Why didn't you get on the bed, baby?"

He crouches down, cradling your jaw in his hand. He figured out how much you like that quickly. Marcus' affection is laid open and bare across his face, making you want to shy away again. This time, you try to hold firm.

"I wanted to make you happy, sir. I thought you might like this."

"Oh baby, I love it. I want to reward you for already treating me so well."

A smile breaks out across your face, thrilled to have already done so well for him.

"What do you want for your reward?" he asks.

You nearly blue-screen. There are so many options. How can you pick just one? Every fantasy you've ever had comes to the forefront of your mind, all fighting for the top spot. Staring at him before you, you make up your mind.

Your voice falters. Somehow a worry about being too forward wiggles forward in your mind. You've had partners, some of them shitty doms, in the past who haven't liked you being so assertive. Your voice falters. "I- I want…"

Marcus is patient, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Don't get shy on me now, baby. What do you want?"

"I want to suck your cock," you force out.

Marcus inhales sharply. For a moment, you worry you've done something wrong. "Fuck," Marcus says, his voice a little shaky. "You're sure?"

"I can't stop thinking about it."

Marcus kisses you again, quick and dirty. "You're remarkable."

He stands up, now towering above you. He looks amazing from this angle. The soft swell of his stomach, the curve of his chest and shoulders, curls of hair falling forward. You get a real sense for just how large Marcus is. If the outline through his sweatpants is anything to go off of, the same can be said of him everywhere.

You wait patiently, a crackling tension filling the room. There's a chance you could reach out, touching him over his pants, but you don't want to push too far. You're both still figuring out each other's boundaries.

"Go ahead," Marcus says.

Teasing him sounds appealing for a moment, but you've both waited too long for this. His sweatpants slide off of his hips. You gasp at the quick realization that Marcus decided to forgo underwear tonight.

His cock bobs in front of you, curving slightly up towards his stomach. Flushed with arousal, you can finally see the clear effect you’ve been having on Marcus despite his otherwise calm demeanor. Looking up, you can see the tease on the tip of his tongue. It turns into a shuddered gasp instead as you lick a hot stripe up the underside of his cock.

His hands quickly find your head, fingers pushing into your hair to hold steady. It spurs you on, holding the base of his cock and letting your other hand run over his thick thighs. You smile up at him, placing an innocent kiss at the tip.

“Don’t tease me, baby,” Marcus warns. You smile widely up at him.

"Sorry, sir."

You swirl your tongue, humming at the salty taste of his precum. Eager to taste more and avoid another warning from Marcus, you take him into your mouth. His knees buckle slightly and it thrills you to have this effect on him.

Marcus allows you to set the pace. You settle into a suitable position, using your hand to cover what you can't comfortably fit in your mouth. It's been a while since you've been this excited to do this for anyone.

Your fingers itch to reach down and take care of your own growing ache. The noises Marcus is making are doing nothing to help you. You’d ask, but you don’t want to stop what you’re doing. It’s an absurd predicament that simply leaves you dripping onto the carpet.

You hold onto the back of Marcus' thighs, taking him as deeply as you can. Marcus swears above you and you pull back just before you begin to choke. A couple tears well in your eyes at the effort, but you want this, you want to keep going.

You place your hand over Marcus', hoping that he'll get the message you want him to take some control back and to guide you. You trust him. You know he cares about you just as much, if not more, than getting off.

His fingers tighten their hold, moving your head in tandem while he rocks his hips. It's still relatively gentle, Marcus being cautious to not push your limits, but it’s more than enough to let that soft cotton fuzz of submission start to creep in again. You hardly notice the way you’re drooling – unable to do anything about it anyway. Right as you’re beginning to really time your breaths well, sinking deeper into letting go, Marcus pulls away. You whine at the loss, keen to keep going and pleasing him.

“S-sorry baby. I’m going to come if we keep going like that.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you tell him honestly. His cock twitches.

“The first time I come for you I want to fill that perfect little pussy up. On the bed.”

Marcus helps you up from the floor, your legs a little shaky from kneeling on them like you were. “Hands and knees, baby,” Marcus says, kissing along your shoulder blade. He gives your ass a playful swat as you crawl across the sheets, making you squeak.

Getting comfortable on Marcus’ large mattress, you’re more than ready for him. You’ve been ready for him since the couch. There’s still an ache in your jaw from how ready he is for you. That’s why you jump a little bit when you feel his fingers and not his dick easily slide into your pussy.

“You’re so wet,” Marcus moans. “Sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself. Did you get like this sucking my cock?”

Between the way he’s making you feel and his words you find it hard to reply. There’s a sharp sting as Marcus slaps your ass, this time far harder than before. You moan at the bite of it. “What was that baby?”

“Yes, sir. You make me so wet, no-nobody else.”

“Is that so? Nobody else?” Marcus asks. “Tell me who’s pussy this is.”

Oh fuck. You never expected him to say that. Marcus slaps your ass again when you don’t answer fast enough, his fingers stilling. “I said, tell me who’s pussy this is.”

“Yours. It’s yours,” you cry out, moaning as he pushes his cock into you. There’s no pinch or uncomfortable second that blooms into pleasure – it’s like you were made to take him. A perfect fit.

Marcus shudders, pausing for a moment while he adjusts to the tight clench of your cunt. You want to rock back on him more than anything, but you stay still, waiting for him.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” He reaches down, grabbing a handful of your hair and begins to fuck you in earnest. Everything that isn’t Marcus leaves your mind.

There’s the slight tug on your hair, the grip of his hand on your hip, the perfect punch of his cock buried inside you. It’s not long before your arms give out, unable to support yourself against the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing through your body. The noises you’re making are unlike anything you thought you could produce – Marcus alternating between grunts and compliments you can only half hear.

You can feel another orgasm approaching. It only pushes closer as Marcus lets go of your hair, draping his body across yours, and snaking his arm down to rub your clit. Sweat slides between your bodies, Marcus’ breath hot against your ear. Tears are escaping your eyes unbidden, completely overcome with bliss. “Need you to come, baby. Come for me and I’ll fill you up.”

Marcus’ slicked finger moves faster over your clit, his hips keeping a steady rhythm to push you over the edge. He gently bites your shoulder, trying to hold on for you, and that’s what finally sends you over the edge again. Marcus is mere seconds behind, losing himself as you clench around him, milking his cock.

You’re both breathing heavily as you fall back against the sheets. The only noise in the room are your breaths and Marcus’ fan that he keeps beside his bed. Your mind is already swimming.

Did that just happen? If you look over to your right are you really going to see Marcus beside you? If it is him, will he regret this? You desperately hope that the most mind-blowing sex of your life didn’t somehow ruin everything.

You eventually find the strength within yourself to turn your head. Marcus is already staring at you, his eyes brimming with affection and adoration. He rolls onto his side, holding your face in his hand. “You are incredible. I never thought-”

“That I’d be a dirty freak like you?” you joke. Marcus laughs loudly, his smile nearly blinding.

“Yeah, something like that.” He leans in to kiss you, slow and passionate. It’s completely unlike your previous kisses – with your immediate lust temporarily quenched you can take your time with this one. You get lost in the feeling of his plush lips on yours, the gentle press of his tongue. Your hand has a mind of its own while you slowly make out, squeezing and touching any part of him you can get your hands on.

Before things can really start to heat up again, which now feels like an inevitability, Marcus pulls away. “You’re beautiful and I keep wanting to do unspeakable things to you, but I need a slightly longer break. How does a bath sound?”

Even if you wanted to complain about not going for round two right away, Marcus knows he just used chemical warfare. You’ve been begging to use his jacuzzi tub since he installed the damn thing. You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re playing unfair, but I’ll allow it.”

Marcus kisses your forehead before sliding off the bed, confidently walking over to the bathroom. It’s a fantastic show, his back muscles and perfect little ass on display. He comes back out while the tub fills, sitting beside you on the bed and playing with your hair. You know the two of you have a lot to discuss. That can come later. For now this is perfect.

The water is exactly how you like it, the body heat from Marcus only making the tub that much more inviting. Sweat is already beading at Marcus’ hairline. “Did you make it hot enough for me?” you ask, sinking into the water between his legs.

“Yeah, I know your weird cold-blooded body needs it.”

You scoff, even though he’s a little bit right. Your feet have been freezing since he left the bed. The cold tile flooring did nothing to help them. Marcus wraps you up in his arms, allowing you to put your cold feet all over his warm legs.

You stay like that until the water runs cold, talking about things that apparently should have been said months ago. Both of you feel a bit ridiculous for leaving so much unsaid, but it hardly matters now. What matters now is the two of you here, happy, wanting to see where this will lead. Neither of you say it, but you both have high hopes.

The antique grandfather clock that sits at the end of the hall chimes. It echoes, notifying you that it’s now one in the morning. You groan, shoving your face into Marcus' chest. “I wanted to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow.”

“We can still go,” Marcus says.

“Yeah?”

“Sure, if you can still walk.”

You can’t help but laugh, pushing at his chest. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Good, because I’m nowhere near done with you baby.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💕

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#marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike #crasis writes

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celestialking · 1 year

Text

Demons playground

◇ NSFW~ 18+ only ◇ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI◇ You will be blocked ◇

Finished writing: unfinished

Pairings: (body type not mentioned)Reader, DemonC!Sapnap

Warnings, "princess", predator prey chase, unfinished

"Give it back," Sap grinned lunging at you. You giggled pulling yourself away from him. The demon had left his favorite dagger in a easy to find place making it easy pickings.

"Sugar give that back," he growled. "Or imma do something,"

Sometimes it was easy to forget, with how squishy and cuddly he was, Sapnap is a predator. A predator made to grab and pin-

The snap of his tail against the ground made you remember quickly where exactly you were. Karl, that adorable plush hybrid, was watching with interest from the top of the stairs. He was partially more concerned the fire demon was going to burn down his library, however, rather than the chances of you being caught.

You waved the dagger over your head teasingly.

"Something? How original. Come get it then," laughing you ran out of the building.

Sapnap felt his chest swell. If you wanted to play, he'll gladly play.

You were fast he had to admit. The way you doged and weaved through the forest was nothing short of impressive, but none of that mattered. Sapnap was bigger, stronger, and in his opinion; better. As good as you may be you cannot evade the demon right behind you.

You weren't trying that hard to hide from him either. Your laughter echoed through the forest, your glee of outrunning your companion too great to focus on more logical things.

His love for the hunt. He lives for it. Sapnap's body was on autopilot, jumping over fallen trees and tracking your body with laser point eyesight. His mind was somewhere else, though.

Sapnap can't wait to feel you wiggle beneath him, feel your heart racing. In an ideal situation you'd be begging "Please don't eat me,"

You wouldn't have to worry, Sapnap would never. He would play along though, sharp teeth that will drag along your neck, Claws that drag along your sides. It would be worth it to see the bit of fear that will reflect in your eyes.

The sound of your soft pants gained his attention. No longer could he see you in front of him. Your breaths were coming from the trees. Sapnap had almost run right past you.

"I can hear your breathing," he sang lowly. A soft smack followed his words and then silence. "I know you're here still," Words that sent shivers through your body.

The rays of light that filtered through the treetops were blocked as a shadow loomed over you. His hot breath hit your face. Then your body was roughly, yet gently thrown to the ground. A weight settling on your hips.

"Caught you baby," Sapnap chuckled above you. It was low and rumbled through you. His spade tipped tail trailed over your collarbone, tickling your neck. "You didn't have a chance sweetheart. Can't hide from someone like me. Built to stalk and hunt...prey,"

It was shameless really. The way his eyes trailed over your body. The chase had gotten both of you wound up, heavy pants and flushed cheeks. Based upon the demon's darkened eyes it was obvious this hunt had affected him in a way you hadn't anticipated. Your eyes remained locked in a stare, hearts racing still.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson baby," Sapnap rumbled finally.

You squirmed beneath him, pouting. "I'm sorry,"

Your breath caught in your throat as a claw scratched against your chin.

"I don't think you are, but you will be princess"

#celestial:scribbles #celestial:spnp #sapnap x reader smut #sapnap smut #mcyt x reader smut #mcyt smut #<main smut tags will be up for a short time then deleted

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marc--chilton · 11 days

Note

OKAY SORRY FOR BEING INSANE BUT YOURE THE ONLY ONE TALKING ABOUT A/B/O HOUSE MD RN SO HERE’S ANOTHER THING YOU DONT HAVE TO ANSWER IF YOU DONT WANT TO!!! bc i read your post on bonded House and Wilson

I am of the opinion that behind closed doors House is a major cuddle monster. I also subscribe to the omegaverse HC that physical contact for omegas in heat/pre-heat (and, for that matter, in general) is incredibly beneficial, if not a necessary requirement.

Would Wilson initiate? Would House? If Wilson does, is it kinda like how you portray the Alpha Voice, where House kinda responds without thinking, or would he resist at first bc he’s so at odds with his secondary gender/feels he doesn’t deserve to react like a “good”, undamaged omega? If House initiates, does Wilson know what to do with that?

Thank u for being like one of the only current House MD omegaverse authorities you’re doing the lord’s work

HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO TELL YOU MFS THAT I WANT YOU TO BE INSANE IN MY INBOX GODDAMN!!!! GO FUCKING APESHIT I WANT YOU TO

house is DEFINITELY a cuddler behind closed doors (nodnod) sometimes he's still kinda touchy about it because to me he's also slightly touch-averse autistic so on off days he has opposing urges. during heat/pre-heat however the omega desires sound off stronger. he's kind of moody in general actually.

between him and wilson, house initiates more often solely because house's moodiness makes it tricky for wilson to get a grasp on if getting soft with house would be accepted or made fun of (outwardly wilson looks to be more of a softie since he has no hangups about PDA and even though they both know wilson can be a huge bitch house likes to tease wilson for being a sap; wilson rolls his eyes at it but lets him have his fun bc he Knows The Truth)

even just initiating they have different approaches. house will just invade wilson's space and demand attention, just shameless as ever. and even before ever being an item, house pretty much does that every day anyway by barging into his office whenever he pleases so wilson doesn't even flinch. if house gets silly with it, like nuzzling and shittily purring as a joke on typical cuter omega tactics, then wilson gets silly right back by pretending to withhold cuddles. just a little game they play and no one gets hurt feelings about it :]

wilson's approach is gentler as usually if he initiates without fear of rebuke, it's because house is giving off pitiful vibes -- literally his body asking to be held. house's favorite is when they're both reclined longways on the sofa, wilson against the arm of the couch and house pulled close to his chest, wilson's arms wrapped firmly over the curve of his shoulders to lock him in. it's heavenly, especially when wilson props his head on house's and purrs.

what REALLY catches wilson off guard is when they're at the hospital and house needs touch to calm those omega feelings. it's a bit embarrassing to house but of COURSE wilson assures him, frets about him too. what brought this on? you okay? you need a ride home? and house just grumbles about his cycle and lets himself be fawned over for a while. so wilson douses house in his scent again, scratches under his chin (which wilson thinks is so great since house actually really likes that and it makes wilson think fondly of the most scraggly stray mutt you can find off the street), and revels at the sound of house sighing in relief in turn.

#asks #lucradiss #house md #hilson #do NOT apologize for going CRAZY at me!!!!!!!! i ENCOURAGE IT #physical touch is definitely BIG when it comes to omegas #like if ONE of the five senses can be chosen as a focal point for omegas it would be touch #for alphas it would be smell #betas would be sight bc as the least affected by all of this they can just sit back and watch everyone else go feral #enjoy the show beta besties #house is so needy and temperamental both so wilson sometimes feels like he's trying to walk through a minefield #but he does it again and again and again and AGAIN #because love is a verb #mgv

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psychcpomps · 29 days

Text

( zendaya, 28, cis-woman, she/her ) ☼ i know it’s a small town, but i run into MALIA JAIDEN every time i go to WIZARD’S TOWER. it’s like they practically live there and not THE CINDER SAP FOREST for THEIR WHOLE LIFE. it must be because they’re ADAPTABLE and COLD. come to think of it, that’s probably why they’re an NURSE too. but i did hear they want to SELL THEIR MOM’S HOUSE, and sometimes they like to TEND TO THEIR SNAKES. rumor has it they also like PANCAKES, but dislike RUBIKS CUBES. what do you think?

full name — malia jaiden nickname(s) — none name meaning — malia: calm and peaceful. jaiden: god will judge, thankful one. age — twenty-eight date of birth — october 25th place of birth — stardew valley star sign — scorpio sun, scorpio moon, virgo rising current location — stardew valley gender — cis-woman pronouns — she/her sexual orientation — lesbian religion — atheist occupation — registered nurse education level — bachelor of science in nursing family — mila jaiden ( deceased ), david harris ( father, estranged ), emma harris ( step-mother, estranged ), avery & celeste harris ( half-sisters, estranged ) finances — getting by spoken languages — english, spanish

inspos: cristina yang ( greys anatomy ), jo march ( little women ), aragorn ( lord of the rings ), lip gallagher ( shameless ), jonathan byers ( stranger things ), monica geller ( friends ), chidi anagonye ( the good place ), kat stratford ( 10 things i hate about you ), theo crain ( haunting of hill house ), riley flynn ( midnight mass ), jamie ( haunting of bly manor )

tw: mentions of alzheimers, death of a parent, absent father

“i want to stay with you forever,” malia says, staring up at her mother who reminds her of honey and little specks of everyday magic. she remembers her mother laughing, “forever is a long time. you might get bored.” it’s hard to tell a six year old no, even harder to remind the sixteen year old that once upon a time all she wanted to do was be with her mom. malia had plans after high school. she was going to become someone, except she had no idea what she wanted to do, she just knew that she needed to go.

throughout her life traveling had always been a thing that her and her mom did when it came to sports that malia played, and for her graduation present they were going to go to europe. then, malia’s mom got sick.

“i want to stay with you forever,” quickly turned to, “i will stay with you forever,” malia got the acceptance letter to columbia and told her mother that she didn’t get accepted, and by the time it mattered her mom forgot.

malia took on the caregiving role, and commuted to the nearest school that she could to get her bachelors to become a registered nurse. her mom used to say if she had been smarter she would have been a nurse, and malia remembers braiding her hair and telling her that she could have if she wanted to, but that she was just fit to be a teacher. the first few years were hard, malia realizing the kind of impact her mom had on her community and how much unlike malia was to her mother was startling. where her mom was kindness, malia had a coldness to her. where her mom was gentle, malia pushed people away. it hadn’t always been like this, or maybe all of her bad qualities that had laid dormant came from her dad.

her mom died about a year ago and she’s been living in her house ever since with the intentions to sell it but being unable to. she wouldn’t know where to go if she did.

other stuff:

malia is a vegetarian and has been her whole life

when she was a kid she used to "rescue" snakes ( she would actually snatch them poor things ) and ask her mom if she could keep them. eventually when she was old enough to have a pet her mom bought her a snake. she's had many snakes over the years and is obsessed. her snakes now are mexican black king snake, a corn snake, and a ball python

owns a little black cat named bitty

malia smokes :/// she shouldn't as a nurse but she simply doesn't care

only has had one serious relationship that she ended due to not being able to be there for people emotionally

her mom was probably most if not all of the valley's school teacher lol

malia is a good nurse and is excellent at her job but her patients often tell her that she needs to smile bc she has a permanent sad face asdokfas

knows self defense and taekwondo because her mom thought it was important for her to be able to hold her own in case anything happened

her mom's house is a cottage with a beautiful garden that malia is desperately trying to tend to but she is not a botanist and tries hard to not be home to care for it :/

she needs a hug probably adlfasaslk;f

#dew.intro #━━ ❛❛ // MALIA JAIDEN ! ¦ there’s something in the static i think i’ve been having revelations . 「 about ! 」

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01nnie · 2 years

Text

— TELL ME, DO YOU WANNA BE MY LOVER?

summary :: relationship headcannons w/ chronoir because why the heck not? ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

notes :: ik this was supposed to be headcannons and it turned out kind of long- im so so very sorry ｡ﾟ( ﾟஇ‸இﾟ)ﾟ｡ hope you all like it in the end <3 !! not beta'd !!

wc :: 2k、requested :: yes、no、reader :: gender neutral、female、male

art credits :: ��瀬セイ on pixiv、u_skeeep on twt

‧₊˚ʚ :: kanae. ↷ ⨯ ︵

- the sweetest boyfriend of them all

- will put your needs before himself.

- youre kanae's #1 priority after all (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

【 you forgot your jacket at home? he offers you his own, wearing a captivating smile. your hands are getting cold? hes quick to cover them with his own, softly huffing his breath over your trembling fingers. youre too shy to ask for his scarf? he notices, just like he always does. with skilled hands he wraps the cool-colored fabric over your shoulders and neatly tucking it under your chin, not before giving you a light scolding. 】

- regularly gets you to go on café dates together, checking out shops that just opened in your area

- kanae is the type of boyfriend that would divert your attention to something else before taking a bite of your desert (◕‿◕)

- dont worry though, of course he’ll share his with you

【 a warm grin made its way to his face when you ramble about how delicious the food was as you dig in for another bite. his eyes catch the dollop of cream stuck by your rose-tinted lips. your eyes widen when he leans closer, swiping his thumb over to clean your mess. a reddish hue glosses over your cheeks when kanae laps his tongue over his thumb, tasting the sweet frosting. there is a shameless grin on his face. “youre right, it tastes amazing.” 】

- err cough

- slow dances with you in the kitchen !!

- the low tune of a romantic song that he picked playing in the background while you sway together with the music ＼(＾▽＾)／

【 kanae his arm around your waist while he has his hand intertwined with yours. “youre such a sap, kanakana.” you giggle when he lets out a playful breath. “you like that though.” is his reply. your eyes widen a fraction and a shriek was pulled from you when he suddenly spins you around. his heart swells when he feels you playfully hit his chest as a complain.

as you both rock back and forth gently, kanae doesnt realize he hold you a bit tighter and closer, like you’ll disappear when he lets go. you dont realize, or maybe you did and made no comment. the brunette didnt dwell on it, rather he focuses on you and only you. 】

- when things get too much for you to handle, kanae knows when to give you space

- once he sees light up and your simple “come over” message pops up on his screen, he’s already on his way

- along with an assortment of your favorite snacks to help cheer you up o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o

【 the wind ghosts over your skin and making your hair flow along with it as you hear the bustling streets of the night from down below. the starry skies and whispers of the moon have been keeping you company while you wait for your boyfriend. you feel another headache forming in when youre reminded of the events that occurred earlier today. you were so tired, just wanting to your worries to wash away already.

a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders when you heard the door click open, the familiar sight of kanae floods you as you lock eyes. he approaches and sits next to you, the plastic bag he came in with resting on his crossed legs. he doesnt speak, not yet at least, and instead brings out your favorite snacks one by one. your eyes follow his movements and you cant help but overthink that maybe he’s getting exhausted of this; of you.

the frown youve worn this whole evening deepens at that thought, but only for a while. kanae tucks the hair hovering over your face before leaning and giving your cheek a warm kiss. its no surprise that kanae can easily make you smile. the two of you converse, swiftly jumping from one topic to another just like the other times, all while enjoying the makeshift feast presented in front of you. you lean your head against kanae chest, his hands interlocked with yours and his thumb brushing over the back of your palms giving you comfort. the rhythm of his hear beat almost you to sleep. before your eyelids fall, you hear a soft mutter, you cant tell if kanae's professing it to you or the stars hanging in the galaxy. “the moon is beautiful, isnt it?” 】

‧₊˚ʚ :: kuzuha. ↷ ⨯ ︵

- very much awkward in the beginnings- you had to be the one to approach kuzuha first

- the vampire doesn’t have much previous relationship experience so he tends to just … stand there awkwardly watching you

- but you’re not really complaining ! its fun to see his reactions and being the one to take the lead (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

【 kuzuha clicks his tongue as checks his phone once more, taking a note of the time. there was an itch he can’t quite scratch when bears in mind that you’re 10 minutes late. he’s not impatient or anything. in reality, the red eyed male was super excited and nervous. it didn’t really cross his mind as to why, after all you’ve had dates like this before. he should be used to it by now.

his train of thought was stopped he felt something, someone, bump his back, the unknown figure wrapping their arms around his torso before letting out a fit of giggles. kuzuha resists the urge to playfully roll his eyes as he turns. “ya ready to go, baby boy?- woah hey!”

he wraps his coat around you, fully covering you from the wandering eyes of strangers. you pull at kuzuha's arms and peek at him with a mischievous look. “you’re late.. and i told you! quit calling me baby boy y/n” you don’t think you will, not with the enticing glow of his reddened cheeks and how he buries his face on your neck. kuzuha thinks he won’t get used to your antics. how you pull on his hand; one that engulfs yours completely, as you enthusiastically talk about the activities you’ve planned for the two of you. and he thinks that that’s okay. 】

- indoor dates(?) with zuha !!

- the two of you have a variety of snacks and dips to choose from laying on the coffee table. you both decide either to watch the new movie releases, or play 1v1 videogames

- this time around, you’ve both decided to battle each other on a video game. and kuzuha's not about to waste this opportunity of flexing his gamer skills on his significant other (っ´ω`)ﾉ(╥ω╥)

【 another ,,game over’’ title, bolded in red, flashed on the tv screen. the loud cheers of kuzuha filling the air and you let out a huff before leaning against his chest. “damnit zuha, why can’t you just let me win? just once.” the white-haired man immediately shook his head, making you feel a little more upset. “now where’s the fun in that? what kind of boyfriend would i be if i don’t polish your gaming skills, y/n?” you know he was just making up excuses. he turns back to the lit screen, proceeding to restart the game.

with a quiet grumble you adjust from his lap to stand up, plopping down on the couch as you reach for the popcorn bowl. without properly weighing out the consequences, you threw a piece of popcorn at the back of kuzuha’s head. you go rigid when you saw him halt his movements. you tried holding back the laugh building up in your throat when he turns with a look in his eyes that screams ,,it’s game on’’. it’s safe to say you two made a huge mess of the living room, and your laughs and shrieks could be heard from a mile away, all while the abandoned game was still waiting to be continued. 】

- so very proud to be your boyfriend i tell you

- he likes to show off often that you’re his significant other, with or even without you around

- but i don’t think kuzuha wants you to know about that … or else he might die of embarrassment (⸝⸝•́દ•̀⸝⸝)

【 turning the keys to the left, you entered the house before slipping off your shoes and placing it on the rack. you came home from work, drained and tired, just wanting to spend the rest of the night with kuzuha. speaking of, you looked around the living room curiously. usually, he would already be on the couch waiting for you to come home. you spotted the bags of takeout already on the kitchen island. he shouldn’t have gone that far away. placing your bag on the leather seat, and about to proceed to your shared bedroom, you heard his familiar voice. it was coming from the balcony of your cozy apartment.

with piqued interest, you discreetly pad over to the wall, peeking slightly to see your beloved boyfriend resting against the railings. it seems like he’s talking to someone. you were about to leave to give him privacy when you heard kuzuha mutter your name. that got your feet stuck to the ground.

“i don’t know i just … gahh, i mean you already know what i’m about to say so what’s the point …” you were visibly confused. something he’s going to say that he’s already told before. now what could that possibly be? “it’s just that … you know that feeling when you see a really cute puppy? that’s what i feel when i’m around her, 24/7! it makes me feel so dumb, and giddy! and-and achhh- i don’t know!” oh.

“and i know it might come off as me being clingy but i get so excited when she come home … and her smile! it just- i feel my heart explode whenever i’m near he .. – HEY! Stop laughing, bastard!” kuzuha continues to shout profanities to the unknown person on the other line. based on the laugh and teasing words they let out, you guess it’s probably kanae he’s talking to.

you didn’t pay much mind to their conversation anymore, too busy clenching your dress shirt in hopes of calming your erratically beating heart, fearing it might burst through your chest any second now. kuzuha never failed to make you feel special. it felt like cupid shot his golden arrow straight through your heart all over again when you glanced back at him, making no effort to hide the giddy smile present on your lips at his bantering with his friend. composing yourself, you nonchalantly skipped towards him.

he felt his soul leave his body when he felt a tap on his shoulder. when he turned, the knowing look on your face was the first to catch his attention. “come on, pretty boy. the food might get cold~” raising to your tiptoes, you plant a chaste kiss on his velvet-shaded cheek with a cheeky beam. turning, you go back inside to prepare your dinner together, your light steps fading into the distance. the male let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. his free hand came to touch the cheek that your soft lips touch and he felt his face become even warmer than before. if that was even possible.

kuzuha was brought back to reality when he heard the low whistle coming from his phone. with a hiss and a quick goodbye, he shoved his phone in his pockets before burying his face in the palms of his hand, rubbing his face in the process. “yo, slowpoke! get over here already, baby~” he quickly cursed the fuzzy feeling growing in his body at the pet name you rarely use; a term you only use to tease him with. kuzuha knows you won’t let him live this down anytime soon. 】

#にじさんじ #nijisanji #nijisanji jp #nijisanji fluff #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji jp x reader #chronoir #chronoir x reader #kanane #kuzuha #nijisanji kanae #nijisanji kanae x reader #kanae x reader #nijisanji kuzuha #nijisanji kuzuha x reader #kuzuha x reader

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mrworldwideshoulders · 1 year

Text

where love finds us || reader x knj

Pairing: reader x KNJ Word count: 5.4k Rating: PG-13+ Genre: established relationship au, fluff (like a lot), (light) angst, the teensiest implied smut for good measure Summary: An evening with your fiancé's parents to celebrate their anniversary has the two of you reflecting on how lucky you both are to be in each other’s life – even if it took a long time for you to get there. Inspired by If I Knew by Bruno Mars. Warnings: discussion of ~feelings~, discussion of pregnancy, cute romantic moments, joon keeps trying to touch reader’s butt (hehe), tongue kissing (bleurgh), reader is a child of divorce and has ~trauma~ A/N: hi! this fic is a giant sticky sweet glob of sap. please forgive me (or don’t) and be sure to check your blood sugar at the end to make sure you haven’t gone into diabetic shock. i know it’s out of order but this is the same couple as the one from the way you look tonight (shameless plug) though both can be read as standalone oneshots if ya want. i freakin love this fic so i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing. beta’d and bannered as always by the amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable)! thx! ly - robyn T/N: eomeonim = used when speaking to one’s mother-in-law, specifically on the husband’s side; abeonim = the same thing but for father-in-law. PS. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers lately (eeeeee) – thanks for joining me! if you’d like to be added to any taglists, just ask in the notes or in my dms or the ask me a question thingy :) PPS. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they just inspire me.

part of the unorthodox jukebox collection (masterlist)

You check your reflection and fidget nervously while you're waiting for your fiancé to get out of the car, making sure the skirt of your dress is laying the way it's supposed to, that the clasp of your necklace hasn't shifted around to be in the front instead of the back the way necklaces do sometimes, checking in the mirrors to make sure your lipstick hasn't smudged. You were supposed to be here earlier – much earlier – but the festivities are already in full swing, due to the unexpected obstacle of trying (and failing) to drag Namjoon out of the house in a timely manner. His parents' anniversary party has been on the books for weeks. He knows that. It's like everything goes in one ear and out the other these days, no matter how often you swear you've reminded him. It's frustrating, really. Namjoon is practically a genius. He can remember the most obscure bits of trivia to insert randomly into casual conversation and quote long passages of literature verbatim – yet he can never seem to remember where he's supposed to be or when he's supposed to be there. His best friend Jin keeps making cracks about how he’ll probably be so immersed in whatever it is he’s doing beforehand that he’ll end up being late to his own wedding – which would be funny if it weren’t one of your exact fears. Deep breaths, y/n. Deep breaths, you tell yourself, exhaling, envisioning all of your irritation drifting away like dandelion fluff.

"You almost forgot this." Namjoon hands you a carefully wrapped box as he gets out of the car. He looks you up and down and smiles. Damn that smile. It's almost enough to erase all of the morning's frustrations. "Gosh, you're beautiful. Have I ever told you that?"

"You may have mentioned it a time or two," you say, tilting your head with a sly smile. "You're not so bad yourself." You reach up to straighten his collar. "That’s a nice suit. Dressing to impress?" Your fiancé always looks ten times better in a blazer, as opposed to his more relaxed everyday style, despite him always complaining of being too hot in suits.

He glances down sheepishly. "Ah, you know. Just threw on the first thing in my closet."

"I like it. Did your girlfriend buy it for you?"

"My fiancée picked it out, actually. Her taste is very discerning.” Namjoon chuckles, giving you a quick flash of that adorable dimple in his left cheek. "She chose me out of all people when she’s so amazing she could have had anyone.” He leans in and drops a kiss on your forehead. "Kind. Intelligent. Great kisser. Too wonderful for words. I can't even hold a candle to her."

“Sappy.” You give his lapel a tug. “Come on. We’re already late.”

“Hey, it doesn’t matter when you come, you’re never late for a party.”

“Says the man who’s late to every party.”

The atmosphere inside is lively, filled with party chatter and the sound of music playing from somewhere. “Ah, y/n, Joonie, you’re here!” exclaims Namjoon’s mother, pushing her way through the crowd to wrap you tightly in a hug. “Welcome! It’s about time.”

“We were beginning to wonder,” adds Mr. Kim, “but then we remembered who you were dealing with here.” He pats Namjoon on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Be careful, son, or y/n might decide she’s tired of putting up with you before you’re even married.”

“I’m…working on it,” mutters Namjoon, rubbing the back of his neck.

Looking for a way to change the subject, you remember the box you’re holding. “Abeonim, eomeonim, this is for you.” You hold it out to them. “Happy anniversary.”

Your mother-in-law takes it from you and pulls you into another hug. “Oh, y/n, thank you! How lovely! You shouldn’t have.” She cuts a knowing glance at Namjoon. “Joonie, why did it take you so long to ask this one to marry you? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“I have no idea,” sighs Namjoon.

“Anyhow, you two enjoy the party,” she continues. “There’ll be toasts later, so stick around.” Your mother-in-law winks and disappears with her husband.

You peer around at your fiancé's face. He looks a touch dazed. “You okay?”

“Oh…yeah,” he says. “I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting all that as soon as we walked in. Well…shall we?” Namjoon motions in the general direction of the party.

“Absolutely.” You loop your arm through your fiancé's and look up at him, as the pair of you weave through the mass of party guests. "Do you think they'll like it?”

“Hm?” says Namjoon absently. “Like what?”

“The present, Joon. The one you handed me not ten minutes ago?”

Realization appears on his face. “Oh, sure. Definitely.”

You poke him in the arm. “You don't even remember what we got them, do you?”

“Of course I do. We got them, that, uh, thing. For the kitchen. It’s a kitchen thing. Right?”

“No.” You sigh. “It’s a vase. For decoration. Namjoon, you were sitting right next to me when I ordered it. And you helped me pick it out. How could you have already forgotten what it was?”

“Because that was like a month ago, and you know I can’t remember anything unless I’m reminded about it a million times? And if it’s remotely breakable, like I know most vases are, you wouldn’t let me anywhere near it anyway.” He leans over to plant a kiss on your cheek, before you can open your mouth to chide him. “They’ll love it, y/n. I know they will. My parents adore you. You could gift-wrap a rock and they’d love it because it’s from you. Me, on the other hand…" Namjoon makes a tsking noise with his tongue. “It'd just be a rock in a poorly-wrapped box if it came from me. You know, I’m getting the feeling they might like their future daughter-in-law better than their own son.”

“Of course they like you.” You reach up, patting him on the chest. “I mean, how could they not? You’re their pride and joy, Doctor Kim.”

“It’s still just Professor Kim for now,” he corrects you gently, though he looks amused. “I won’t be finished with my dissertation for another year, and I still have to defend it before anyone can call me Doctor.”

"Even so. You're already Dr. Kim in my eyes."

He smiles and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but gets interrupted by another party guest approaching. The interloper is one of Namjoon’s aunts, who can’t stop gushing over the two of you. “You make such an adorable couple, it would have been such a shame if one of you couldn’t make it,” she exclaims warmly, beaming from ear to ear. “When’s the big day again?”

“Second week of May,” you answer, glancing bashfully at Namjoon, who squeezes your hand and smiles.

“Oh, not long now! It’ll be here before you know it.” She pats Namjoon’s arm with a knowing smile. “You’d better behave yourself until then, Joonie.”

The faintest hint of a blush finds its way onto his cheeks. “I always do, Auntie.”

“Tch! I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Namjoon sighs as she disappears back into the crowd. “What a piece of work.”

“She’s just happy for us.”

“I know. Everyone is. Of course I am too. But I haven’t heard the end of it from any of them since they met you. It’s all, ‘don’t let this one get away,’ and ‘behave yourself, Joonie.’ As if they think I’m going to scare you away months before I finally get to marry you.” He leans over, his voice a low whisper in your ear. “If they only knew what we get up to when no one else is around. I wonder if they'd still be telling me to behave myself.”

“We’re in public,” you whisper back, cheeks burning. “Maybe you should listen to them.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” His hand drifts to rest on your ass, giving it a small pinch. “You know I can’t help myself around you. And everyone knows you drive me crazy.”

Now your ears are burning too. “Well, try.” You gently move his hand and give him a pointed look. “Please? Your parents are right there.” You look pointedly in the direction you last saw them.

“Y/n, they’re not even looking at us. Nobody is. And you can’t seriously think everyone expects us not to touch each other just because—” Namjoon starts, but stops at your slight frown. “All right, fine. I will attempt to contain myself if it bothers you that much.” If you’re not mistaken you’d say he almost looks wounded. “You do realize we will have to kiss each other at the wedding, right? In front of people? We could do a lot worse than a few public displays here and there.”

“Yeah, well, let’s test that theory another time.” Your voice comes out harder than you mean for it to.

“Okay. Duly noted.” His tone is clipped. “Am I allowed to hold your hand, at least? Or is that off-limits too?”

“If that’s the way you feel about it, then maybe you just shouldn’t hold it at all.” You pull it away, letting out a frustrated huff. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I’m just nervous, that’s all. You know I get uncomfortable around lots of people. Even if they are lots of people who know and love you, because they’re people I haven’t met yet.”

“Yes. I get that.” Namjoon sighs. “But you got so touchy all of a sudden, and when have we ever been shy about that kind of thing?”

“Never,” you murmur.

“Exactly. I just have to wonder if everything’s okay, that’s all.” He takes both of your hands, his large ones nearly covering yours. “Everything is okay, right? I know I’ve been busy lately. We both have. That’s no excuse, but—”

“No, everything’s fine.” You shake your head, despite feeling like it’s the opposite. “Forgive me. I don’t know what my problem is today.”

“It’s okay. I worry about you, that’s all.” Namjoon smiles, but it seems a touch forced. “We should make the rounds, yeah? Say hello to everyone?”

You plaster on a smile to match his. “Yeah. Let's do that.”

His hand stays firmly tucked in his pocket the whole time, except for the few times it brushes against yours, which makes him pull it away as if he’s been shocked. You find yourself missing all of his little touches: a hand on your waist, on the small of your back, your neck, your shoulder. You’d forgotten just how physical he is with his affection, and you’re beginning to wish you hadn’t snapped at him and just let him touch your ass like he wanted, relatives be damned.

Kyung-min, Namjoon’s sister, eyes the two of you suspiciously the whole time you’re talking to her. “What’s going on with you two?” she demands, mostly addressing Namjoon. “You’re both acting super sketchy. Are you in a fight?” Her gaze turns to you. “Y/n, you can tell me if he’s being a jerk. I can handle him. Seriously.” She glares back at her brother.

“No!” You shoot a glance at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine, right, Joon?”

“Right!” He smiles, almost imperceptibly. “Just some…pre-wedding jitters. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” She narrows her eyes. “Sure. Let me know how that works out.”

You sigh softly and watch Namjoon for a moment. He’s watching Kyung-min leave, his one free hand still tucked in his pocket, a drink in the other. You pull gently on his sleeve to get his attention. “Joon, I think I’m going to step outside for a minute. Get some air. It’s a little hot in here.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows lift in surprise. “Uh – do you want me to come with you?”

You shake your head and feign a smile. “No, that’s all right. You stay here. Have fun.”

“Okay, well…I’ll be here.” He raises his glass slightly.

The lanai is deafeningly quiet compared to the clamor inside, giving you a chance to finally sort through your jumbled thoughts. It’s nearly dusk already and you stare distractedly at the sun gradually beginning to sink behind the trees and houses in the distance. “Oh, why did you have to go and snap at him over nothing?” you mutter to yourself. “So what if he touched your ass? You’re about to marry the man. Is this what we do now? Blow up over nothing?” Your hands clench anxiously at the sides of your skirt. Sure, he’s busy. So are you. You could just chalk it all up to the very fact that weddings are just stressful. Exciting – but stressful. But is it really just the stress of planning the wedding that’s getting to you? Or is it something else? We’re happy…aren’t we? Is this how it starts? Does every relationship have the potential to end in anger? Resentment? No matter how happy and well-intentioned things are at the beginning? Am I just doomed to be unlucky in love because of the way I watched my parents’ marriage unravel? You close your eyes tightly and try to calm your breathing the way you did before – deep breaths, in and out – but it doesn’t work this time.

The sliding glass door opens behind you, and you turn around quickly, startled. It’s Namjoon’s mother, looking puzzled. “Y/n? What are you doing sitting out here by yourself? I would have thought you and Namjoon would be attached at the hip this close to the wedding.”

“Eomeonim,” you say, standing up. “Hello. I just…needed some air, that’s all.” And some space, from my fiancé, who loves me. Sure.

She sits down on the bench and motions for you to join her. “What’s wrong?” she says. “Are you not enjoying yourself? Do you not feel well? Should I go find Namjoon?”

“Oh, no.” You wave your hands. “I’m all right. And the party’s lovely. Nothing to bother Namjoon with.”

“Just between us girls, then. What’s the matter?” She narrows her eyes. “Did Namjoon do something?”

"No!" You shake your head. "Nothing like that. It's just…" You draw in a breath. "I see him every day. I talk to him every day. But I feel like we haven’t really spoken in weeks. He might as well be a million miles away, even though he’s right there in front of me." Your fingers twist together in your lap. "He didn’t even remember we were supposed to be here today until I reminded him an hour before we were supposed to leave. After that I snapped at him over such a small thing that I don't even remember why I was so annoyed with him.”

“But that’s not all, is it?” she asks.

You shake your head. “I know he’s got a lot on his plate with his paper, and I thought I could handle some of the wedding stuff on my own so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. I didn’t mind that too much. But there were some things I just wanted his input on, small things that wouldn’t take all that much thought, but no matter what I ask him he just says whatever I pick is fine and that he trusts my judgment. So I started to wonder, does he even care? Would he even notice if I didn’t show up? The wedding is two months away and I'm scared that we aren't on the same page anymore, that things have changed – and that maybe we're not meant to be together." Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm being silly. Look at me, making everything about myself.”

"Oh, y/n. Sweetheart." She pats your hand. "It's not silly. Lots of couples feel this way sometimes, especially right before the wedding. Marriage is a big commitment. It's natural to question whether it's the right thing to do. You love him, right?"

You nod. "More than I've ever loved anyone."

"And I know for a fact that Namjoon loves you too, even if he's not very good at showing it sometimes. So just talk to him. Clear the air, and tell him how you're feeling. He'll understand. The two of you will work it out, whatever it is." She tucks you into a soft hug. “I should be getting back to the party. Come and join us whenever you’re feeling better, all right?”

You nod and manage a watery smile. “Thank you for listening, eomeonim. And congratulations again. Thirty years – that’s special.”

“Thank you, dear.” She smiles kindly. “It takes two. You’ll get there someday.”

“Yeah.” You fiddle with your hands, smiling to yourself. “I hope so.”

You wait a few minutes after she’s gone to compose yourself before you go back inside, weaving through the crowds of people to find your fiancé. He’s easy to spot, lingering by himself near the front corner of the main room, hands tucked deep in the pockets of his jacket. He cuts a handsome figure standing there by himself, staring off into space, with the light of golden hour glowing behind him, and you have to stop for a moment, struck suddenly by how good-looking the man you’re going to marry is, on top of being one of the kindest people you’ve ever known. His face brightens noticeably when he sees you approaching. “There you are.” Namjoon smiles softly. “I was starting to wonder if I should come looking for you.”

“Oh, Joonie.” You wrap your arms around him in a quick hug, resting your head against his chest. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

“What’s all this?” He sounds surprised but wraps his arms around you anyway. “Is everything okay?” His brown eyes search the insides of yours, crinkling with concern.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just wondering…would you take a walk with me? The sun is about to set, and I thought we could find a place to watch it. And talk, while we’re at it.”

“That sounds nice.” Namjoon takes your hand, twining his long fingers through yours. “Let’s go, then.” He guides you outside to a small walking trail behind his parents’ house that runs along the side of a creek. “I used to come down here all the time when I was a kid,” he says. “Mom would practically have to drag me inside for dinner when the weather was nice.”

“Aw. I bet you were cute when you were little.”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I was. But I’m much cuter now.”

“That’s different.”

“I’ll just have to show you the pictures, then. Maybe we can get Mom to dig them out later.” Namjoon’s sleeve brushes against your bare arm. He glances down. “Those shoes aren’t hurting your feet, are they?”

“My feet are fine, but thanks for asking. These shoes are actually pretty comfortable.”

“Really? They don’t look comfortable. I’m happy to carry you. Or the shoes. Either one. I don’t mind.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll live. What about you? You're not too hot, are you?”

“Well, I might boil to death, but it’ll be worth the sacrifice, I think, if my fiancée thinks I look nice.”

You manage a smile, but it doesn’t last for long. You take a deep breath and drop your head. “I’m sorry, Joonie. I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier.”

“Baby, is that still bothering you?” Namjoon turns to you and lifts your head to look at him. “I told you it was okay.”

“Is it really?” You watch his face. “You looked so hurt when I yanked my hand away that I thought—”

“Yes, y/n. I meant what I said. Of course I was hurt, but it's not worth staying mad over. Not to me, anyway.”

"But…" Your mind goes back to earlier. "You didn't touch me the whole time we were talking to everyone." Your voice almost sounds petulant.

Namjoon laughs suddenly. “I was trying to behave myself, like you asked me to. And do you know how difficult it was for me to keep my hands to myself for that long when the most beautiful woman in the room was standing right next to me the whole time? So difficult. I might actually deserve some kind of compensation for it.”

“How was I supposed to know that?" you demand. "Since when have you ever listened to me when I tell you not to do something?”

He folds you securely into a hug and rests his chin on your shoulder. “Aw. You missed me, didn't you?”

“Maybe a little,” you say, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Thank you for apologizing.” He kisses you on the forehead. “But it's not necessary. Consider the whole thing forgotten, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. “Sorry for being annoying. I was just overthinking, I guess. Being a child of divorce will do that to you.”

“Annoying? No, of course not. No one could possibly find my fiancée annoying.” Namjoon wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into his warmth. “Y/n, are you cold? Do you want my jacket?” He sighs. “I should have expected it would still be cool now. I would've reminded you to bring your sweater.”

“No, Joon, it’s fine,” you start, but he’s sliding out of his blazer and draping it over your shoulders before you can finish talking. It still radiates warmth from his body heat and smells overwhelmingly like him. “You’ll look for any excuse to take your clothes off, won’t you? Or is it just that you like seeing me wearing them?”

“Can’t it be both?” He grins playfully. “I really was about to boil to death, you know. Seeing you look all small and cute in my jacket is just a plus.”

“I’m so sure, you goofball.” You reach up to cup his chin.

Namjoon’s face softens and his eyes drop. “I’m sorry, too, by the way.” You look at him quizzically. “If it feels like I haven’t made a lot of time for you lately, then you’re probably right. I haven’t been very present at all, to be honest. We were supposed to be planning this wedding together, but it dawned on me that with the edits on my paper and everything else that’s going on, I let most of the planning fall on you without even asking if you were okay with it. You even asked me if I was going to be okay planning a wedding when I was this far into my thesis, and I swore up and down that it wouldn’t be an issue, but here we are, two months out, and look at that – it’s an issue. You have your own responsibilities outside of the wedding, and it was selfish of me to just expect that you'd take care of it.”

You feel relieved. “How did you know that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about?”

“I’m just that smart. But also incredibly dumb at times, because I have this very bad habit of taking the people I love for granted. Oh," he adds, "and Kyung-min overheard you talking to Mom and came to yell at me, so I put two and two together and figured it out from there.”

"That sounds like your sister."

"She even pinched me. Hard. I’d forgotten how painful her pinches are." Namjoon rubs a hand against the top of his head. "I never meant to upset you, y/n. I just get so lost in my own little world sometimes that I forget that it’s not just mine anymore, because you’re a part of it too. It's our world. You and me. So when it happens again – and I know it will – I’m counting on you to pull me back out and keep me grounded in reality. Okay?"

“I will.” You press a soft kiss to his mouth. He leans in to deepen it further, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. His lips become more pressing, more insistent, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. Your lips part gently, allowing him in deeper.

“I’ve missed this," Namjoon sighs between kisses. “I'm going to be happy when life settles down again, you know? Then I can go back to having you all to myself." He looks down at you, his eyes glinting mischievously. “And I can give you all the attention you deserve.”

“Is that so?” you say, as he’s leaving a trail of kisses down the side of your neck. “All the attention?”

“Mhm,” he says, face nearly buried in your shoulder. He pulls away suddenly. “You know, maybe we should just get married already. Are you sure you don't want to just call it all off and elope? Didn’t you say you didn't care how it happened as long as we ended up married at the end?"

"If I’m remembering correctly, I believe that was you." You smile. "We met at a wedding, remember? It's only right that we give someone else the same opportunity.”

“A wedding reception,” he corrects you. “We barely knew those people, and we didn’t even go to the ceremony. We can always just elope and still have a big party.”

“It’s only two more months,” you say, pouting slightly. “I’ve already bought the dress and everything. We're too close to call it off now. Can you imagine how disappointed your mother would be if her only son ran off and got married without telling her? She'd never forgive you."

"You can still wear the dress if we elope. And we'll make it up to her by giving her a couple of grandkids to spoil." Namjoon shrugs. "What do you think? The sooner the better, right? We could get started right away if we go ahead and make it official." His hand sneaks toward your ass.

"I think," you say, catching his rogue hand in yours, "there’ll be plenty of time for that in a year or two, once you finish your dissertation. If I got pregnant, oh, say a month from now—”

“A month?” he protests. “I don’t think it would take me that long to get you pregnant.”

“Hypothetically, Joon.” You poke him in the arm. “Think about it. You’d be signing yourself up for a hormonal pregnant wife during the first half of the school year, and then a screaming baby keeping you awake during the second half. You barely managed planning a wedding. Do you really think you could handle that?”

"Hm, when you put it that way, I guess I can wait a little longer," he muses. "Oh, well. I suppose I just really like the idea of someone that’s a little bit you and a little bit me running around.”

"Someone that has your eyes and nose? And a sweet little smile with a dimple to match?" you tease.

"Or maybe a little carbon copy of my beautiful wife?" Namjoon bumps his forehead against yours, grinning. "I could get used to that." He stands in silence for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "Whenever we decide the timing’s right…I think you’ll make an amazing mother.”

“You think so?” You chuckle. “As long as their childhood isn’t anything like mine I’ll be satisfied. I don’t think I ever heard my parents have a conversation that didn’t end in a screaming match.” Your parents did nothing but fight for fifteen years before they got divorced. Your mother, for one, is much happier now that your father is out of the picture, but his seemingly never ending reserve of anger and resentment toward your mother has left you with some pretty deep scars and a fear of commitment that plagued you throughout most of your dating years. Your relationship with your fiancé is the only one that’s ever come close enough to having marriage on the table as a possibility, and it took months of him being patient, slowly working his way past all of the walls you put up for yourself over the years, to even get there.

“It won’t be,” says Namjoon firmly. “It’ll be different. We’re different. You told me your father changed once they got married, right? I’d never do that to you.”

“Everyone changes, especially once they get married. You don’t think you will?”

“Well, of course I’ll change.” He tilts his head to one side pensively. “I think everyone does, at least a little. I just hope it’ll be positive change. For example, the way I love you is never going to change, but how much I love you is just going to continue to grow every day.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it.” You smile. “I like that. I hope it’s the same for me, too.”

Namjoon smiles down at you and takes your hand. “What we have is special,” he says. “We’re so lucky to have stumbled across each other when we did. I couldn’t have found a more perfect match in anyone else. We’re made for each other. It’s like…the stars and the planets and the whole universe lined up just for us.”

“You believe we were meant to be?”

“Exactly. It was destiny. Fate. It was meant to happen exactly the way it happened. If Jin hadn’t dragged me out of my apartment that weekend, and Ji-eun hadn’t tried to set you up with that guy, who knows where we’d be right now?”

"Probably on another terrible blind date that Ji-eun set up because she swore up and down that this guy is the one and totally perfect for me, and so much better than the last few that she also thought were totally perfect for me."

“And I would probably still be sitting in my apartment buried in papers, with Jin trying to convince me to come out drinking with him again.” Namjoon smiles ruefully and looks down. “Can I say something dumb really quick?”

“Your ‘something dumb’ will probably still end up being something thoughtful and well-said, so by all means, go ahead.”

He hesitates. “I wish I’d known it was going to happen. That I was going to meet you when I did. I spent so much time thinking about my ex, everything I did wrong with her, what I could have done to keep her from breaking up with me, that I didn't even give a second thought to the fact that there might be someone better out there. Someone…like you." Namjoon tilts his head forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “If I’d known it was going to be you,” he continues, “I guess, I don’t know, I would have tried harder. Worked on myself more. Tried to be better. Something like that." He’s still smiling, but there’s regret in his eyes.

“Oh, Joon.” You put your hands on both sides of his cheeks. “You know that’s one of the things I love the most about you? But you’ve always been enough for me. Ever since we met. You were enough for me then, you’re enough for me now, and you always will be. I love you, Kim Namjoon, just the way you are. You’re my perfect fit. Always and forever.”

"Thank you." He takes your hands in his and squeezes. "For trusting me. I know you’ve had a lot happen that would scare anyone away from commitment. I know you worry all the time about ending up just like your parents. But you overcame that. You looked past all of my flaws and agreed to spend forever with me. And every day you’re by my side you get even stronger. That’s a huge deal. I’m grateful for that. And I’m so proud of you.”

“How could I not, when you make it so easy? When you’re so willing and patient with me?” You reach up and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m excited. To be your wife, to start a family with you, anniversaries, old and gray, the whole deal. I don’t want to be like my parents. I want us to be like yours. I want to build a life together. Something that will last forever.”

“Me too.” Namjoon smiles and hugs you closer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He kisses the side of your head. “We’re going to make it, y/n. We’re going to go so far together, and I can’t wait. It won’t always be easy, but I’m ready to try.”

“And I’ll be right there next to you.”

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear. “Thank you for saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking,” you whisper back. “It sure took you long enough, didn’t it?”

Namjoon tosses his head back and laughs. “No one’s ever going to let me live that down, are they?”

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