Markiplier Imagines

42 // •really• simple

She stared into his brown eyes, watching as numerous things swirled behind them. His eyes were like the universe: so vast and full of stars, galaxies, mysteries, wonders. She had fallen in love with the man's eyes when she first met him, and when she got lost in them, it was like she was seeing them for the first time all over again.

He thought the same about her (e/c) eyes, wondering what secrets they held and what kind of universe was behind them. How he had torn his eyes away from them everyday confused him in this very moment, as when he was as close as he was, they looked like they could hold the answer to everything with one simple look; one simple glance, and they could outsmart scientists. Before he had met her, he had never gotten lost in someone's eyes – at least not the way he got lost in hers – and it almost scared him before he realized that it was okay and that were true works of art meant to be marveled upon.

His eyes flicked down to her lips, her eyes mirroring his gesture. Her mind was full of words that meant absolutely nothing, which only distracted her. She shook off the thoughts and fluttered her eyes closed while leaning in about halfway before being met by his lips. The soft collision sent a spark up and down her body as if it was the first time she had ever kissed him. To her, there was no way to explain the sensation she felt. All she knew was what kisses like these did.

They were the cause of wars, the way that two people would fight for each other, just so they could love each other without it being in secret and behind the walls. This was why people said that when you find the one that you're meant to be with, that you would feel something unlike any other feeling you had ever experienced. This is what love would feel like, how it would be so soft and loving, but passionate and rough at the same time. His lips were the only thing that occupied her mind as the kiss turned into a continuous one.

The things that really got to her was what he did when they kissed like they were now. He would softly whine when her lips would leave his, or he would pull her closer when he felt she was straying too far for his liking. When he wanted to deepen the kiss, he would tilt his head to the right, giving both himself and her easier access to each other's soft lips. 

His hands always stayed in one place – her waist; to him, if he moved them anywhere else, it wasn't a kiss, a continuous one at that, it was something that was becoming heated, and he didn't always want that. Her hands would find their place as well, but moved a little more. Sometimes they would be on his cheek, other times they would be connected behind his neck; any place they were, he still loved the fact that she touched him and wasn't afraid to hold him like he was hers, which he was.

When the kiss finally broke, their foreheads rested together as they took their breaths of oxygen in an effort to get their breathing to steady. Both of their eyes remained closed, but he pulled on her waist, bringing her closer to him to the point where barely three centimeters apart. He wanted so desperately to feel her lips back on his, moving in sync. She wanted – needed – the same, but the need for oxygen was a tad bit bigger. Once she caught her breath, their lips collided again, not a word spoken through their voices.

The only things that were heard were the soft breaths they took while kissing and the slight sound of music coming from her recording studio.

It was official for both of them:

there was never going to be too much kissing. ever.