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collecting-stories · 2 years

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🏕 "Accidently ending a phone call with your roommate with a casual ‘I love you’ seems like a very good reason to move out." roommate au with any stranger things guy please!

I did this with Steve, mostly cause you said he's your comfort character.

I Love You - Steve Harrington

Summary: You accidentally confess your feelings to your best friend over the phone.

A/N: I couldn't decide how to end this so it kinda just ends.

Stranger Things Masterlist

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“What do you think are the chances that I could like...move out of our apartment?” You asked Robin, leaning against the counter of the Radio Shack. It wasn’t exactly the most glamourous job in the world but it afforded a third of the rent on the apartment that Robin had found for you, her, and Steve.

When she’d first suggested the three of you living off campus together, you’d been reluctant. Keeping your feelings for Steve under wraps was a lot easier said than done, especially when you were literally living under the same roof as him. But Robin was persistent (and she put down the deposit for the first month before either of you could even process the idea long enough to back out of it) so it was no surprise to you when you found yourself trapped in an apartment contract, sleeping in a room right next to Steve’s.

Not ideal was a severe understatement and you were waiting with baited breath to completely fuck everything up. Something you absolutely knew you were going to do because when didn’t you fuck things up? You’d been coasting through this masquerade of a friendship for two years now and there was no way you were going to hold out much longer. You knew that. And then it happened, just like you had anticipated but maybe worse than you’d imagined.

“Why do you have to move out?” Robin asked, reaching for some of the fries she had brought you for dinner. You were supposed to be working but the moment she came in you’d flipped the sign on the door and locked it before announcing that you’re entire life was essentially over.

“I told him I loved him.” You admitted, grimacing at the mere thought of your fuck up.

It’d been a simple phone conversation, nothing exciting and definitely nothing to completely screw the future of your friendship with Steve over. He’d called the store cause he was going to the market and wanted to know if you had any special requests that hadn’t been written down. You asked for dunkaroos and then told you loved him. Mostly in that exact order. “Buy me dunkaroos. Thanks. See you later. I love you.” And then before he could answer (thank god before he could answer) you hung up. Hit the end call button and smashed the phone down onto the receiver and hyperventilated your way to the Radio Shack that Robin was working part time at.

It was unfortunate, probably for both of you, that the only person you could talk about Steve with was Robin but you hadn’t really branched out.

“How did that happen?”

“I just was like, bye, and then said I love you!” You replied, pressing your hands against your forehead. “I literally am dying right now.”

“I don’t think you’re dying.” Robin pointed out, not looking nearly as erratic over the entire ordeal as you were. “I mean, I’ve told Steve I love him plenty of times.”

“You’re physically incapable of being attracted to him and I’ve never once heard you tell him you love him.” You replied, “I literally said ‘I love you’ on the phone, to him.”

“So what? Just play it off.”

Robin’s advice was less than helpful. You knew that technically you could just shrug the whole thing off (if he even mentioned it at all, as Robin was quick to point out) and say that you made a mistake. You told your parents you loved them when you signed off. You said it to your grandma when she called on holidays or weekends to chat. It was totally normal and while you didn’t normally say it to Steve it was just a slip of the tongue. Easily played off and never spoken of again.

The second option that Robin presented, while still technically unhelpful, was a lot better than the first. The possibility that, just maybe, Steve hadn’t even heard you or if he had, that he wouldn’t bring it up at all because it didn’t really matter that much. You were friends, had been friends for a while, and you were living together. An ‘I love you’ here and there didn’t have to be romantic or talked about and definitely not agonised over. You could both go on living your lives as normal people who acted normal around each other.

“He’s totally into you though,” Robin had mentioned, ever the informative friend when you were in a crises.

You wanted to say “when pigs fly” or something along those lines but with all the crazy shit you’d experienced in Hawkins, pigs flying probably wouldn’t even make you bat an eye. The only thing left for you to do, since you’d dumped your problems on Robin and finished lunch, was actually return to the scene of the crime.

The apartment was small and your roommates were unavoidable, which meant that hiding from Steve and your embarrassing love confession was virtually impossible. He was home when you got back anyway, stashing his ice cream in the back of the freezer behind a bag of peas because Robin had a tendency to steal it.

“You know she knows you put the Rocky Road back there right?” You asked, skipping the ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ or ‘is there any chance the phone cut out before I told you I love you’. “Honestly I don’t know how you can eat ice cream after working at Scoops.”

“Me and ice cream have had our differences but, I mean, it’s Rocky Road…who turns their back on Rocky Road?” Steve asked, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“Right, my bad.” You looked away quickly, going to the fridge to grab a drink. You couldn’t hide from him but maybe you could hibernate in your room until Robin got home and then it wouldn’t be the two of you alone in the apartment. Or it would, but not alone in the same room. Alone in separate rooms, where you couldn’t say anything else embarrassing and he couldn’t mention that you told him you loved him. “I’ll be in my room. I uh, homework.” You grabbed your backpack from its spot by the couch (because you always complained about doing homework by yourself in your room and insisted on sitting on the couch and bothering your roommates with medical terminology until one of them agreed to help you study).

“Are you sure?” Steve looked genuinely surprised because he’s known you for more than five minutes, “what if you need someone to quiz you?”

“I’ll be fine.” You lied.

The whole charade, thanks to Steve’s rare intuitiveness, lasted no more than thirty agonising minutes. You suspected, for the most part, that he was humouring you. Letting you sit there and stare at your textbook and act like you were capable of not distracting yourself when both of you knew that it was impossible. And eventually, when he decided enough time had passed, he knocked on the door.

It was clear then that he was humouring you in more ways then one. Waiting to see if you would crack or if he would have to say something first. Naturally, it was the latter. “Hey, how’s it going?” Steve leaned against the doorframe of your open bedroom door. You’d left it unlocked and not fully closed, a sort of ‘I’m willing to talk but only if you start the conversation’.

“Fine,” you replied, trying not to look over at him. The last thing you needed was to look over at Steve and lose all your nerve.

He shrugged though you couldn’t actually see it, “Okay,” he said it like he didn’t believe you but he pushed off the doorframe and tapped the wall gently, “well tell me if you need a study partner.”

“I will.” you nodded; eyes still diverted.

He tapped the wall one more time, “alright,” he started to back out of the room before he stopped, calling your name, “one more thing.”

Finally, you looked up, “what?”

“I love you too.”

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brainworms-all-night-long · 17 days

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Sparkle on its Wednesday!! As a treat you get another snippet but this time it's the short fluff contained within the fic that is not getting done by this Sunday lmao

#6k words and I just finished the first half oh my god #i should read some fics with cannon corrupted Nightmare to get in his head better #the problem is that uh. i dont think theres gonna be a lot of em #whatver #im gonna make this fic a jigsaw puzzle #collect my pages boy #search of the snippets and tie them together into a coherent story cuz I sure as hell am struggling with that #miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #wsatw #running from a nightmare

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jopzer · 1 month

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ted Lasso (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Roy Kent/Jamie Tartt Characters: Roy Kent, Jamie Tartt Additional Tags: Eloping, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut Summary:

It's a secret to keep, just the two of them. His engagement ring feels heavy on his finger; warm and secure.

#ted lasso #royjamie #roy kent #jamie tartt #happy wedding day my beloved rowdy <33333 #we put together a little collection of sappy sweet/horny fics to celebrate rowdy's wedding #give em a gander 10/10 best fics ever more to come tomorrow

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bigcats-birds-and-books · 2 months

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Books of 2024: THE DEATH I GAVE HIM by Em X. Liu.

Up next! Hamlet retelling but make it science + a locked-lab mystery (which is, of course, directly up my alley!). Horatio is the lab's resident AI, and I'm so excited to see how this goes.

#books #books of 2024 #the death i gave him #em x. liu #book photography #my photography #and yeah catch me transitioning out of THE WAY SPRING ARRIVES with this one lmao #one queer chinese spec fic book to another babeeey #i'm about to speedrun a hamlet kick and i'm having a good time #ALSO #i need the world to know how BLAZINGLY BRIGHT this book is!!!#holy shit it is SO green (my photo doesn't do the green justice sorry)#and the accents are SO HOT PINK #and then!! the back cover!! IS ALSO SO HOT PINK #THE END PAGES ARE EVEN BRIGHTER HOT PINK!!!!#i'm delighted by the colorful experience of this book XD #lowkey bummed that the boards are just black with silver text honestly #AND i have. reservations. about how sturdy the whole thing is (it doesn't feel especially well-put together)#but gotdamn if it isn't COLORFUL #also the blurbers on the back are a powerhouse as a collective #shelley parker-chan and cassandra khaw and grace d li #freya marske and sam j miller #(i don't actually know ren hutchings and cse cooney on sight but i feel like i should....)#anyway!! stoked!! love books made for meeee

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likesunsetorange · 3 months

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https://x.com/llumi_ii/status/1749483411385827672?s=46&t=6gibj1UxMbLn0YGDvwIicw

OUR PRAYERS WERE ANSWERED

bodyguard au drabble # 3

OMG YES I SAW!!!! that’s literally so her i love it so much this mirror palais collection is so bodyguard au mikasa!!! and lia really blesses us with mikasa in the cutest outfits, i always look forward to her art when she posts 😭🩷

i'm sorry this took so long to reply to but i really wanted to write something for this, so i hope you enjoy!!! :)

also slight nsfw warning? lol!

While they weren’t necessarily sharing a mutual dislike for one another anymore, they weren’t necessarily friends either. But Eren also wouldn’t say they weren’t not friends either—it was complicated, but it wasn’t—he was her bodyguard whom she happened to live with, but there was something a bit more there—or at least he thought.

In the weeks since they had come to a truce of the sorts, they had developed a routine of the sorts. He would accompany her on her daily errands (as he was supposed to), but she welcomed his company rather than Mikasa feeling as if Eren was an unwanted presence. It was almost as if they were spending time together rather than Eren doing his job. Even when she spent hours trying on clothes, or trying to choose between (what Eren deemed was the same) lace ribbons, he found himself with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Once they were back at her house, they would disperse amongst themselves until later in the evening when they would often cook together or watch whatever movie Mikasa picked for them.

The peace within the house was nice, and he found himself appreciating the little things a bit more. When she wasn’t busy throwing insults at him or criticizing every little thing he did, she was actually quite sweet. It was ironic to Eren how a lot of her personality was reminiscent of that first initial encounter—before she drugged him—leading Eren to believe maybe all of it hadn't been as much of an act as he had initially thought.

Today, much like any other day, after a day of various errands and a shower, Eren found himself preoccupied in the kitchen, but rather than cooking dinner like he usually would, he made himself a bowl of cereal, much to what he would assume would be Mikasa’s displeasure. Mikasa had him running around the entirety of the city, somehow managing to go through multiple burroughs (which he didn't even think was possible in NYC) for all of her menial errands, and he couldn't be bothered to make anything, so cereal would have to do.

He had made it through his second bowl of cereal when he heard Mikasa's voice on the phone, approaching. Her figure came into view, her hair damp and clinging to her back and her bangs pinned out of her face with little heart clips. She was wearing one of the many pair of pajamas she owned, today, these ones pink with little red hearts.

There weren't many things Eren allowed himself to indulge in when it came to Mikasa—he tried to keep those thoughts few and far between. But there was one thing that would plague his mind from time to time, no matter how hard he tried. It came in bouts of small moments when he was reminded that at the end of the day, he was a man living with an objectively attractive female who paid no mind to his presence, prancing around her house like she still lived alone.

It came in the form of Mikasa and her abundance of exquisitely crafted satin and silk pajamas—something that to the normal person, was seemingly harmless. Initially, it was. Eren found himself a bit endeared by her seemingly neverending collection, almost looking forward to which pair she'd wear every night—some patterned, some solid, some adorned with little embellishments or details of different fabrics.

But then, for reasons unbeknownst to him, the seemingly cute matching button-up shirts and pants turned into tiny shorts and slip shirts. So the thoughts that Eren tried not to allow cross his mind, ran rampant. When her clothes highlighted the curves of her body, accentuating every dip and crevice, leaving little to his imagination, and the dusking of her nipples against the smooth satin (since Mikasa refused to turn off the AC despite always being cold), it was hard for Eren to think anything but unholy things.

His mind ventured to places of how her skin would feel against his, if her sweet demeanor was applicable elsewhere, and if her smart mouth was good for other things too. And surely Mikasa, who at one point Eren had been sure was Satan incarnate, wasn't all that innocent either—with her sultry looks and sly touches—which only fueled his thoughts further. But Eren allowed these to only exist in his brain in brief glimpses, and would quickly tuck them back into the deepest crevices of his brain where they belonged—for the sake of his sanity and his pride. He would resume his gaze from her very nicely crafted body to her equally pretty face, pretending that he hadn't just imagined multiple ways he wanted to fuck her.

When Mikasa's gaze finally met Eren's he made it a point to keep his eyes on her face, which is exactly how he noticed her face turn from her usual blank expression to a pout as she hung up the phone to whoever she was talking to.

"Are you... eating cereal?" She asked as she walked toward him.

Eren raised a brow quizzically, "Yes, is that an issue?"

"Oh," she huffed, her pout only intensifiying. "Well, what am I gonna eat? You already ate—we normally make something together."

Eren shrugged nonchalantly, knowing she could order takeout like usual when she didn't feel like making something. But it was obvious what the actual problem was—Eren was a bit too oblivious to realize—she just wanted to spend time with Eren.

Eren knew he would probably make her something, always giving in to her, but now that they were a bit more amicable, he enjoyed his fair share of riling her up to compensate for the months of borderline verbal abuse she put him through.

"Last time I checked, I was your bodyguard, not your personal chef," he replied blankly, but the faintest hint of a smile gave way to his teasing.

"You know, sometimes I think I liked it better when you didn't talk to me," her voice dripping with the attitude that Eren had been accustomed to at one point. She glared at him as she walked past him towads the fridge, Eren stopping her before she could make it all the way.

He tugged lightly on the bottom of her shirt, Mikasa swatting as his hand in response. "Mikasa, I was kidding. What did you want?"

"I don't want anything—I can make it myself," she responded, crossing her arms. She glared down at where he sat on her bar stool, Eren trying to maintain his gaze at her face and not her body, which he was at eye level with. He found himself particularly enamored with these little heart pajamas—finding them endearing, but also for the little slivers of skin they showed—but not only could he give Mikasa the satisfaction in knowing that, he couldn't allow it for his own pride.

"Why are you like this? You're a brat sometimes, you know that?"

"And you're annoying," she bit back, but despite her snarky remarks, she seemingly admit defeat, taking a seat, nonetheless.

Eren released a pained sigh as he stood up, knowing he only contributed to her behavior, being the one to constantly indulge in her. He took off his sweatshirt, leaving him in just his t-shirt , not wanting to get it dirty. He almost threw it into the chair before he had half the mind to shove it over Mikasa's head, Mikasa face shocked as he helped her put it on (not bothering to care whether she had wanted to or not), his sweatshirt almost swallowing her tiny frame whole.

"Here, I can see you shivering," he said dully, though he knew it was only an excuse for his own sanity's sake.

"Oh, thanks," she replied, her cheeks flushing the tiniest tinge of pink. "And thanks for making me something to eat, Eren," she added a few moments later as Eren turned on the stove.

"Yea, yea. It's my job, right?" A smile on his face as he rolled his eyes playfully.

And as he sat there a while later, watching Mikasa happily eat the grilled cheese he made her, a smile on her face, while adorned in one of his random sweatshirts, he realized he had royally fucked himself. If he thought seeing her in her clothes did something to him, seeing her in his clothes—combined with her long inky hair splayed across her shoulders, a rare sight to see; the same doe-eyed face that had got him that night just months ago; and her rare but sickeningly sweet personality, that made his heart do a double take—was only so much worse.

#bodyguard au #asks #vic’s drabbles #i had almost finished and then my app crashed and i wanted to kay em es i wont lie lol but luckily half was saved as a draft lol but i was #committed so i retyped the rest again the things i do for eremika. i was fighting demons to post this the demons being myself lol #sometimes im like am i putting these in the fic? idk LOL these might just be tumblr only scenes based off our collective discussions/hcs lo #anyways eren is so down bad for his little boss

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monty-glasses-roxy · 7 months

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"Oh but why would you bother doing the Fandom Submechanophobia Wiki if you hate Fandom so much? Why do you keep looking around FNaF Fandom Wiki if you hate Fandom so much? Why would you do this???" I hear no one asking and to that I say...

Where else would I get my emotional duck tape phrases?

Seriously, fuck Fandom and the Fandom wiki but some of the people writing these pages get a pass for being extremely funny lmao

#yeah I say 'it helment' all the time now it's actually altered my brain chemistry #I ADORE it helment #it's my discord status AND wifey's discord status lmao #it helment... my beloved...#yes I've found more gems I should make a post abo-OH I COULD ADD SOME OF THESE SILLIES TO THE HALLOWEEN ROSTER #just a few #doodles 100 word drabbles random sillies and some gems in my wiki travels...#that seems like a nice mix ngl #drabbles are the hardest I think but the most important because Nano is coming up #so some little things to get in the game a little before it starts should help #but yeah I'll add a few to the trick or treat roster lmao some of them are really funny to me #I gotta have a nice mixture for the trick or treaters!!#gotta keep 'em on their toes!!!#might just make some posts of random things I find fun too #like I really like some of England's mythology though I'm not an expert on it at all #and I know some fun stuff about animals and stuff! and bits and pieces of other languages!#and history stuff!!#I can make such a wide collection...#I could put links to art blogs that I really like and some fics #wait no I've. not read any lately... :(#pfft I go grab some stupids from the books and sprinkle those in #not many though! I feel like I've beaten that one to death already #can't drag it through the mud anymore than I already have lmao #nah I got ideas though man #for DAYS #just got a life thing to get done first #NO I DON'T I HAVE TWO LIFE THINGS AT LEAST #THREE #MAYBE FOUR #oh god they're multiplying how many fucking things have I forgotten??????

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sexybabystevie · 2 years

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WAIT. WAIT WAIT WAIT

1989 ALWAYS FEELS LIKE THE STEVE HARRINGTON ALBUM VIBE WISE BUT HAVE WE CONSIDERED REPUTATION CONCEPTUALLY???

the fall of king steve, the complete and utter destruction of his reputation and popularity???? i think i'm onto something here

#im a rep girlie and it just came to me #the realization that this fits!!!!#reputation (steve harrington's version) WHEN #ooh what about. a collection of fics about it???#literally if ANYONE has a single idea about this please send it via ask or reply to this #im onto something i need thoughts i need to share this!!#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #em speaks

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chiropteracupola · 2 years

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thought I should clarify more moth and compass lore so I have decided to do so via A Tasteful Meme

#em draws stuff #oc time again hehe #moth and compass #another instalment in the I Said I Was Going To Do Things And Did Something Different Instead saga #was going to draw more on the trip and then started a new 27th fic instead because I guess I need about that many in order to thrive #who even knows anymore what goes on in my brain? certainly not me #anyway. *slaps collection of spooky stories* being ace is cool as hell thanks for coming to my ted talk #the fool: moth worley

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justmypartner · 8 months

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𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

Summary: She’s chasing ghosts, he’s chasing a case. Hiding behind disguised intentions and false identities, their paths cross, only to realize their objectives might be one and the same. Will they let each other be the way forward, or will their pasts stand in the way?

Read on AO3

#upstead fanfiction #upstead fanfic #upstead fic #upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #jay halstead #hailey upton #justmypartner fics #collection of em's fics #TOTKO fic

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collecting-stories · 2 years

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congrats on 11k!! could I request ‘After a trip to Ikea to get new furniture for the apartment, they soon realise that after successfully assembling a shelf without killing each other, they are basically ready for marriage.’ with Jay Halstead? thank you :D

Thank you so much!!!

Hemnes - Jay Halstead

Summary: you and Jay build a bed from ikea together.

A/N: Made it a bed instead of a shelf because I recently put their hemnes bed together and would've loved a Jay to help me!!

One Chicago Masterlist || Celebrate 11k with me

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“Come on,” Jay reached his hands out, letting you grab on before he hauled you up to stand inside the empty bedframe. Despite the shorts and light shirt you’d changed into halfway through trying to navigate directions for the bed that you and Jay had bought, you were still sweating.

Your shirt felt like it was clinging to your back and your thighs were red from rubbing together whenever your shorts had ridden up. All in all not a particularly cute or sexy look for you, though Jay wasn’t in much better shape. He’d hauled the mattress up the stairs into your shared apartment by himself (mainly because he was on some macho high from having loaded the truck at ikea without assistance either) and you could tell that he was close to wiping out.

“Okay, next time we buy a bed, let’s just pay the extra fee to have them put it together,” you suggested, stepping over the frame so you could help him unroll the mattress from the plastic it was packed in.

“They were charging half the price of the bed,” Jay started up and you rolled your eyes. As much as you loved your boyfriend’s passion, you would be the first to admit that it was often times misplaced. “Besides, you can’t beat the pride of having done the job.”

“Maybe but I smell like sweat and I’m pretty sure my deodorant stopped working right after we got the headboard assembled.” You took one end of the plastic, holding it as Jay released the ties around the mattress and the queen sized spring hybrid started to uncurl. The bed had taken months of back and forth to finally decide on, Jay complaining first about the style and then the color and then the apparent ‘ridiculousness’ of underbed drawers that slid out. It was such a matter of contention that both sides had gotten other people from work involved. And it was Hailey, who pointed out that Jay had always claimed to be a ‘function over fashion’ guy, that finally helped qualm the arguing.

“Honestly can’t smell it at this point.”

You pulled the last of the plastic away and looked at him, eyes narrowing, “no, babe, you don’t smell at all.” You mocked, grabbing the edge of the mattress so you could haul it onto the frame with him.

“I mean,” Jay leaned toward you and breathed in through his nose. That half smile crept up on his face as his eyes met yours, “you smell a little bit.”

“Jay!” You moaned.

“Last week, I came home from the gym and what did you say to me?” He questioned, hands on his hips now that the bed was in place, “you said I smelled.”

“You did, like significantly. And you told me that you didn’t!” You grabbed the box that the sheets were in and pulled the mattress pad out, fanning it over the bed.

Jay grabbed one end from you, beginning to stretch it over the upper left hand corner, “I didn’t know it was me! My point is, I’m just looking out for you.”

“It’s not really looking out for me if I told you that I know I smell bad. I’m just saying, when we’re done I don’t wanna jump right in bed.” You explained, “I wanna keep the sheets nice as long as I can.”

“You should’ve just said you wanted to shower with me.” he replied, smirking at you.

The pillows were the last thing on the bed and when you stepped back to look at it Jay gave them one last fluff. The bed looked comfy, the kind of bed you saw on someone’s home decor pinterest account and not the kind of bed you thought that you and Jay even possessed the ability to build together.

You hadn’t even argued though. He listened when you read the directions and he was ribbing you about the bed now but he’d been helpful every step of the way during the building and buying process.

“You okay?” Jay asked, waving his hand in front of your face when you just stood there looking at the bed.

You pushed his hand away, “I’m fine. I can’t believe we actually built this.”

“Knew we could,” Jay shrugged, leaning over to place a kiss against your hairline, “you know what this means though don’t you?”

“No Jay, what does us building a bed together mean?”

“That we should get married.” He replied, matter of fact.

You almost choked on air at the suggestion, and the way that he suggested it, “what?”

“We built an entire bed without a single argument.” Jay said, as if that explained everything, “so we’re pretty much ready for marriage.”

“Are you joking right now? Cause I would really prefer that you be joking. I mean, I literally smell terrible and I’m sweaty. My standards aren’t high but...they aren’t that low.” You replied.

Jay bit down on his bottom lip as he smiled, shaking his head. “I’m just putting it out there. I promise you will be clean when I propose to you.”

You cut the shower off, grabbing a towel off the rack and wrapping it around yourself. The steam in the bathroom seeped out as you opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the smell of pizza making your mouth water almost instantly. Jay had told you to get cleaned up and promised to grab dinner while you did, heading to the pizzeria that you loved not too far from the apartment.

“Jay!” You let out a laugh as you walked into the kitchen, covering your mouth with your hand and turning around swiftly. You were maybe expecting a slice of pizza to be waiting on the counter for you or a beer if there were any left in the fridge. But you’d walked out to find Jay down on one knee instead.

“Are you clean?”

You turned back around slowly, nodding your head because you could feel yourself getting too choked up to speak, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes as he started to speak again.

#ems 11k sleepover #jay halstead fic #jay halstead fluff #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead blurb #jay halstead fanfic #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead fanfiction #one chicago fanfic #one chicago imagine #one chicago fanfiction #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fluff #chicago pd blurb #collecting stories imagine

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sukunasweetheart · 2 years

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ohmygosh!!! ohmygosh so first of all, i thought i was already following you but im not so im rectifying that now 🤦🏻‍♀️ second, your tags on my bodyguard!sukuna thing!! omg i wanna cartwheel!! that means a lot to me bc you show up in moots stuff sometimes with sukuna stuff and im like "waaaaah, they're so good at writing!" omg i swear to god i was already following you this is so embarassing fnjsjfms

anyways i hope you're having a good day / night and thank you for the tags! 🤧☺️

?!?!?! 😳😳😳😳😳 omg 😭 thank u sm im flattered u think that 💓

And yess i enjoyed reading your bodyguard sukuna sm 👀 ty for good food 👌👌👌🤌💕💞💓💖💖

#love bodyguard sukuna #i have my own ideas on it and am currently planning another long fic on him hehe #tho it will be modern au again #i hath collected yet another mutual <3 #gotta catch em all ❤️#poe answers

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dykecassidy · 2 years

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hi hi all my prompts of the last. uh. almost two months are up on ao3!

here’s the link to the series, the new ones are all the way at the bottom, parts 27-37

hope you enjoy!!

#we seen a fic today #theres hookhausen ruby/eddie and chuck/kris #i gotta collect them up more often i dont like doin em all at once lol

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

#me slowly pressing my dolls together like #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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toruro · 5 months

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— ✧ back to december

a part of flower me with love ... an hhu unit x flowers collection !

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers

description: it's been four months and twenty-two days since you've last talked to mingyu, however your mother still thinks you two are friends. you don't have the heart to tell her what really happened, and now you think it's time for you to move on. (un?)fortunately for you though, mingyu seems to have other plans.

inspired by back to december by taylor swift!

tags: miscommunication, unrequited love (not fr though), big dick mingyu, sex in a car >_<, riding, fingering, pet names (angel, pretty), creampie :3

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: happy birthday @gyuswhore!!! this fic is for em but if not em and ur reading it i hope u enjoy too. this is like 2/3 plot and 1/3 smut if anyone cares

Normality is bliss.

That’s what you used to tell yourself. That’s what you used to believe.

Normality was bright mornings, crisp air, slow walking down the main street, inhaling the ambrosial scent of freshly roasted coffee beans, and slipping under the fairy lights that hang over the door. It was the warm sound of the overhead bell ringing, permeating laughter in the cafe from all customers, and daisies in a pot by the entrance.

Normality was Mingyu. His bright laugh as you approach the counter, sweet voice as he playfully asks you what drink you’d like, to which you roll your eyes and respond with, “You already know, don’t you?” It was the chuckle he would let out, the wink he flashed at you, murmuring the words, “It’s on the house” (because with Mingyu, it was always on the house), the thanks you give him before stepping back.

Normality was the latte he handed you, rough yet ginger fingers brushing over your palm as he warned you, “Careful, it’s hot,” and the giggle you let out when you stepped back and asked how his morning was going. It was Mingyu telling you nothing special happened yet. It was Mingyu suggesting that you two hang out at the field after he’s done with work. It was you grinning and agreeing in an instant, but only under the condition that he picks you up after your class.

Normality was bliss until four months and twenty-two days ago.

Now, normality hurts like a bitch.

Your mother glances at you from the corner of her vision as you rummage through the fridge. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some bread,” you murmur. “Was really craving a tomato sandwich … Damn, we’re seriously out of white bread?” you ask, giving up with a sigh as you close the door and face her.

She shrugs. “If it’s not in the fridge then I guess so. We’re low on produce too actually … I’d be surprised if you find tomatoes in there too,” she says. You purse your lip, shuffling through the different rows of cabinets to find something to throw together to take for lunch as your mother continues to speak. “You think you could stop by the grocery store after class today and pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah sure,” you reply casually.

“Ah, I wish Mingyu still stopped by with the groceries,” your mother says, and the sudden mention of his name has you halting your movements as you reach for a croissant, before you inhale deeply and go back to doing your own thing.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, clearing your throat after the word comes out horsley.

“You know why he stopped doing that?”

You try not to think about how you still haven’t told your mother that you and Mingyu don’t talk anymore.

“Uhh, I guess uni’s been getting to be a lot of work,” you tell her. “We’re both taking way harder classes so, uh, I guess he doesn’t have the time.”

“Hmm, yeah makes sense. You’re always swamped up in that room of yours ‘cause of work too … haven’t seen you two hang out in a while actually.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at your little bag for lunch and the croissant that sits inside. You wonder if you’ll even have the appetite to eat anything today after this conversation.

“We’re just busy. It’s harder to talk now.” It’s not entirely a lie. Grabbing the bag and picking up your backpack, you turn to face your mother who’s scrolling on her phone. “I’m gonna go now. My first class is starting soon.”

Now, normality is huffing as you get into your car, wishing you had a coffee next to you, but being too full of cowardice to head over to the cafe.

(“Go to a different cafe!” is what common sense would tell you, but common sense doesn’t listen to a love that has been betrayed. No other latte tastes the same, but you know that’s only because no other latte has been made by Mingyu.)

You pick up groceries on the way home.

Now, normality is staring at the daisies that are on display as you walk through the front doors of the store and reminiscing. It’s wondering what once was, and what could have been, if you decided to keep your silly feelings to yourself.

Normality is regretting. Regretting ever opening your mouth and telling Mingyu four months and twenty-two days ago that you loved him, and that you had loved him for not one, not two, not five, but ten damn years, because that was when you two met, and you always loved Kim Mingyu, but you should have known that not once did he love you back. Not how you would’ve wanted anyways.

Normality is wondering. Wondering if Mingyu would still be dropping off groceries if you hadn’t told him that you loved him, if he hadn’t told you he didn’t know what to tell you. Wondering if he thinks of you now. Wondering if he has any regrets. Wondering if he’s okay, but you lost the chance to know the answer to that question four months and twenty-two days ago. Wondering if—

Tomatoes. You need to buy the tomatoes, and the bread, some green beans, spinach, bell pepper, and more cheese, milk, maybe some butter, and—what was it that your mother told you to get? Oh, some strawberries.

You need to get all of these things, but there were no daisies on the list, so how did a bouquet full of them end up in your cart? You tell yourself you picked them up because they’re on sale, but you know the real reason is because you miss Mingyu.

Directing your attention back to the list you were sent on your phone, you hum lowly to yourself as you push your cart through the aisles. Checking items off your notes app, you exist with just yourself, your tomatoes, and fresh daisies as you try and finish these groceries before it gets too late into the evening.

Staring at your screen, you almost don’t notice that the dairy aisle isn’t empty until you bump into someone. “Sorry,” you mutter quickly, “I—” The words get caught in your throat when you see just exactly who you’ve hit.

Averting your gaze quickly, you wonder if Mingyu will respond, but you choose to scurry away quickly instead, because as cowardly as it sounds, you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear his voice again.

You’re not sure why your heart beats so fast when you escape into another aisle. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t read the look on his face for the brief second that your eyes met.

(Ten years of being best friends and you somehow don’t know what he’s thinking. Can four months and twenty-two days really change a person that much? Or did you never know Kim Mingyu in the first place?)

When you get home, your mother asks you where you got the daisies from. You tell her Mingyu gave them to you, because you want to convince her that you two are still best friends, and maybe—just maybe—you’re trying to convince yourself of it too.

You decide to buy a latte five days later. Mingyu never worked the evening shifts, so you’re confident you’ll get one of the other’s as the barista if you walk in past 6pm. Seokmin’s always nice. He doesn’t make the latte’s as sweet as you like—more specifically, as sweet as Mingyu made them—but he’s kind and always cheery.

When you walk in today, the pot by the door is empty. There are no more daisies, and you wonder if this is what has become of normality.

Your eyes glaze over the familiar setting, breathing in the sweet, rusty smell of coffee, and you smile watching all the cafe-goers laugh along with each other in their seats. All is going well, and you’re telling yourself that maybe this new normal isn’t too bad. That you’ve lived with it for four months and twenty-seven days, and so you can live with it longer and—

Your heart plummets when you see who's working the register today.

Maybe you really never knew Kim Mingyu, because you swore he hated the evening shifts, but here he is with a neatly tied apron, smiling while he talks to some girl across the counter. And his toothy grin is so bright and you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things correctly because everything sound has turned to a white rush in your ears and your vision blurs because you are once again awarded the painful reminder that you are in love with Kim Mingyu.

You thought your heart broke right in two back in December, but you hear it crack in this moment and realize that this was the final blow.

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know how long you stand there, until you hear your name. Seokmin is calling for you, and when you look up there’s no girl at the counter and it’s just Mingyu and Seokmin staring at you.

And you wonder briefly if you should be glad that Mingyu looks concerned but you don’t have time to dwell on the fact because Seokmin calls for you again—“Hey, are you okay? You—you’re crying”—and fuck, you’ve just humiliated yourself, so with fat tears hitting the dark wood ground you turn on your heel and rush out the door.

You keep thinking and wondering and regretting and you hate it all because regret has become normality, but regret is not a bliss.

You walk down the street, and you keep walking and walking and walking until you realize you forgot where you parked the car but none of that matters because all you’re thinking about is Mingyu’s smile, and how he doesn’t smile at you anymore. And so you walk faster and cry a bit harder until you’re so far down the street you don’t even know where you are anymore but it doesn’t matter because you don’t know who you’ve become.

And there’s footsteps thudding behind you—are you going to get kidnapped now? Fuck, you’ve already had the most horrendous sequence of events that could possibly happen to you in the span of five minutes, and now it’s going to get worse? If this goddamn kidnapper could just target you any other day, then maybe you wouldn’t whip around with tearful eyes, shouting into the dark: “Please don’t kidnap me! I’ll go with you any other day but—Mingyu!?”

His tall figure is hunched over, hands over his thighs as he heaves for breath, craning his neck to look up at you. “Kidnap you? Why in the world would I kidnap you?” he asks through harsh breaths. “Fuck, you walk so fast,” he groans, finally standing up as you furiously wipe your tears away in an attempt to actually make sense of this situation.

“I—” You want to reply, but then it hits you that this is the first time Mingyu has spoken to you in four months and twenty-seven days, and the thought is dizzying. “I don’t know,” you tell him, because you really don’t know. You don’t know a damn thing.

Mingyu looks at you with a look that you, once again, can’t seem to read. “Sorry, I—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, and anyone would be able to see through the lie but you’re hoping that Mingyu doesn’t pry any further. He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything. “You can, uh, go back now,” you add, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare at the ground. “I’m okay.”

“You—you were crying.”

Opening your mouth to protest, you realize you can’t refute him now. Not when it was so painfully obvious. You choose silence instead, hoping that your apprehension will be enough to drive him away, although it only seems to egg Mingyu on.

You don’t expect the words he blurts out after a few moments of thickness.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could go back to December and change things.”

“Please don’t lie to me Mingyu,” you tell him, and he can just hear from the way you say his name that you are desperately pleading with him. When you finally look up at him with glossy eyes, he wonders how in the world he let things get this far.

“I’m not lying, I—I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“What do you mean by this, Mingyu? What is this?” You cover your face and begin to sob, but not without gasping out words between heavy breaths. “Please don’t do this to me, not again.”

And when you uncover your face and look at him again, he’s got some bewildered look on his face, and you can’t tell what he’s going to say next.

“The girl,” Mingyu starts to say. “That’s my cousin. She was visiting me at work and—”

“It’s not about the girl, Mingyu!” And that’s a bit of a lie because some part of it is about the girl but it’s mainly about you and it’s mainly about Mingyu—mainly about the two of you.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and speaks. “Sorry, I—you’re right.”

Silence once more, before you calm your breaths and shake your head. “You should head back, Mingyu.”

“No I—wait, I just—I’m not lying. I regret everything I did in December.”

“Ming—”

“No, please listen to me. I regret not telling you how I actually felt, but I was so confused,” he tells you, repeating your name. “I was confused and fucking terrified because if things didn’t work out for some reason, then I would’ve lost my best friend but—but I was fucking stupid and lost you anyways. And you know, I wanted to reach out. I wanted to talk to you so bad but then like last week, when I saw you in the grocery store, and—daisies.”

“Daisies?” You furrow your brows.

“Daisies. You had a bouquet of them in your cart,” Mingyu tells you, taking a step forward. “And I know how much you love daisies. Your favorite flowers in the world. I saw them in your cart and thought to myself, fuck, I missed my chance, because I thought you had them for someone else and—”

“They weren’t,” you blurt out. “I-I even told my mom you got me them,” you add bashfully, “because she doesn’t know we stopped … yeah.”

There’s a silence that sits between you two, but you’re starting to realize that silence has become normality and you are no longer content with that.

“Mingyu, do you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “More than you love daisies.”

You laugh through your drying tears. You laugh so hard it makes you cry no longer because of pain but because of happiness, and you shake your head and throw your arms around him. “Kim Mingyu, that is a bold statement.”

“What can I say?” he grins. “I’m a bold man.”

“Where was that bold man for the past four months and twenty-seven days?” you snort.

Mingyu raises a brow. “You’ve been counting?” For a moment your expression falls but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve been too.”

You two are quick to head back, Mingyu begging Seokmin to hold the first alone for the weekend before taking the wheel of your car and driving you both to your favorite field of daisies.

“Are we going to have sex for the first time in your car?” Mingyu asks with a chuckle, climbing into the backseat from one end while you pile in from the other.

Giggling, you meet his lips for a kiss as soon as the door shuts behind him, arms winding around his thick neck to bring him close. “The way you said that insinuates there we’ll be having more sex after this,” you tell him with a smile before diving back into another tongue twisting kiss.

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu groans against your tongue as you adjust to situate yourself over his lap, hips pressing dangerously close to his. “Gonna fuck you every day if I can. If you can handle that,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, pulling back to help yourself out of the cardigan and shirt you’re wearing. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

He only flashes you a toothy grin and quickly glances down at his groin area before winking at you. “You’ll see.”

“Kim Mingyu, you are a little shit,” you conclude despite the way your tummy churns at his insinuation, throwing off your shirt as Mingyu helps you out of a bra.

“I’m not little, that’s for sure … fuck, you’ve got the prettiest tits in the world,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer so he can plant his lips on the soft flesh. His mouth is warm, tongue tracing constellations over our skin before enclosing one of your nipples with his lips.

Slowly, his tongue traces circles around the stiffened nipple, teeth grazing over it ever so gently before biting down with slight force. “Ah!” you moan out, head thrown back as your hands travel up his neck and into his hair, fisting the thick, dark locks. “‘m sensitive, ‘gyu,” you tell him, shaky-breathed as he pulls his mouth off your tits with a slip popping sound.

“Sorry,” he says with a lazy smile. “Your tits are so nice,” Mingyu murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze over your other breast, tweaking the nipple in one hand as your hands begin to play with the hem of his tight fit shirt. “Fuck, can’t believe we didn’t fuck earlier. You know how much time we could’ve saved?” he says, pulling away just for a moment to peel the shirt off his body, revealing his firm, thick torso.

“I wonder whose fault that is?” You roll your eyes.

Mingyu frowns in response. “Don’t remind me … angel, take off your pants. Wanna finger you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, because in an instant your hands are at the waistband of your pants as heat rises to your cheeks upon hearing his words. Just the thought of Mingyu’s thick, longer fingers inside your aching cunt is enough for it to pulse around nothing as you throw your pants to the side and shove your panties to reveal your core.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs under his breath as you readjust yourself over his lap so that he can have better access between your legs. Slowly, he brings one hand up to your exposed cunt, bringing his middle finger to circle around your gaping hole. “Shit, you’re so wet, angel … so wet for me.”

“Just for you ‘gyu, just for you” you gasp out when he sinks one finger in, rough pads rubbing against your warm, gummy walls.

Now Mingyu occasionally entertains the outrageous idea that he’s well composed, but he’d be a fool to deny that, even though he can turn you to mush in the palm of his hand, you also have him wrapped around your little finger.

You only have to beg him once or twice for a second finger before he’s giving in, wanting nothing more than to spoil you until you can’t even remember what you were asking for in the first place. And naturally, when you finally tell him that you’re ready for more—ready for his cock—he can’t help but grin and comply.

“You think you’re ready?” he asks, slipping his fingers out and shoving them into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“You think I’m not?” you mumble around his fingers. You pout a little and Mingyu chuckles, leaning in to give you a wet and sloppy kiss before lifting his hips a little.

“You’ll see angel … help me take this all off,” he tells you, and you’re quick to grab at his waistband and yank his pants and boxers down at the same time.

“What are you talking ab—oh.” The words dry on your tongue when you see his cock spring out, from underneath his boxers, the thickness slapping against Mingyu’s abdomen.

It’s fat and long and veiny in all the right places, heavy balls resting at the base of it, the reddish-pink tip smeared all over with his shiny, translucent white precum.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says with yet another chuckle, watching your face as you gaze down at his cock in awe.

“I-is it gonna fit?” you ask incredulously, eyes glancing back and forth between the smirk on Mingyu’s lips and the long length of his cock. Mingyu just shrugs and smooths his hands over your hips, your stomach, and then your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your stomach flutters, cunt growing more and more needy and wet as the seconds tick by, and the way Mingyu’s tongue flicks against yours only heightens the feeling. When he pulls away, he settles his hands over your waist and directs you right over his cock, and something in you swells with pure arousal with the next words he says.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, steadying your position as Mingyu uses one hand to guide his heavy length so that the tip points upwards and presses right against you.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses, and you moan as you feel him sliding against your folds in a slippery, sticky mess. “old onto me, yeah angel? If you want to stop just—”

“Say the word,” you finish for him, placing your hands on Mingyu’s bare shoulders as an attempt to steady yourself, breath hitching as his length pushes into your entrance. “Oh shit, ‘gyu!" you cry out as you begin to sink down on him.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—you can’t even fathom how, even after all his prep, Mingyu still feels like he’s nearly splitting you in half.

“Fuck, pretty—you’re so fucking tight,” Mingyu grunts, helping you nearly impale yourself on his cock. “Fucking fitting inside you so well,” he praises as he bottoms out inside of you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as you take deep breath.

Mingyu knows he’s big—knows it’s hard to fit him inside of you—and he’s feels so fucking lucky that he has you—so willing to take all that he’s giving—sucking him in and whining for more. He waits a few moments, only listening to the way your heavy breaths start to grow lighter, until you’re whimpering a soft, “‘gyu.”

He wastes no time in jerking his hips upward, shifting inside of you and battering the inside of your soft walls. You bite down on his shoulder as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts, choking back soft sobs as you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each movement.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu grunts as you begin to bounce on his lap, his length slipping out of you halfway before being plunged right back in with a sopping mess growing on his thighs.

You whine loudly at the overwhelming pleasure that takes over your body, lifting your head up so you could look at Mingyu with your mouth agape and hair stuck all over your burning face, a sheer layer of sweat starting to envelope both your bodies.

Soon, both of your movements begin to grow erratic and sloppy, hips jamming into each other so hard you’d be surprised if you even have the ability to walk tomorrow. You now know why Mingyu was concerned about fucking every day.

“You g’na cum soon pretty? Cum all over my cock? I can feel it angel, can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me.”

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you manage to gasp out, “Yeah, ’m gonna cum—feels so good, so full, so—fuck!”

Mingyu’s cock pulses inside of you and that’s when every detail seems to be heightened to a thousand—as your orgasm racks through you, you seem to feel every curve, every vein, dragging in and out of you to such detail that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream out his name.

Mingyu watches you fall apart, surrendering to bliss, and the way your hips are sporadically swiveling over his, your pussy’s wetness coating and creaming his cock has him going into a frenzy. Frantically, he begins to snap his hips faster up into you, your soft moans of overstimulation pushing him to his end faster than he can ever imagine. Watching the way he slides in and out of you is enough to have him cumming, shooting his hot, sticky load inside your warm cunt.

Riding out the last of his orgasm with soft rolls of his hips, Mingyu sighs contently at the feeling of you milking him dry, the both of you looking down at the wet, dirty mess you’ve made where the two of you connect, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

Both of you finally look up at the same time, grinning at each other, and you flop forward resting your head on his chest as he slowly combs his fingers through your hair, other hand running up and down your back.

“Why’d you start working the evening shifts?” you ask Mingyu after your breath has finally leveled. “I thought you hated those.”

“I did, but you stopped coming in the mornings, and I figured it was because of me. I hoped that maybe you would start coming in the evenings so I asked my boss to change my regular shifts just in case.”

“Oh wow, you really do love me.”

“I already told you I do! Even more than you love daisies, remember?”

#svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #svt fluff #svt angst #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu angst #📝 writing

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Let Me Love You Like A Woman (Let Me Hold You Like A Baby)

part 3 of Dark But Just A Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you’re in his place. you’re in his bed. will joel ever be anything more than your dad’s friend who occasionally fucks his frustrations into you, or will you always be strangers?

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [m receiving] fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long hair; pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel); dubcon (power imbalance); age gap; dbf!joel; angst; mentions of murder and torture.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites loml forever

word count: 4.1k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click here to read part 1, Dark but Just a Game.

Click here to read part 2, Pretty When You Cry.

(neither are totally necessary if u just wanna read some filth, fluff, n angst, all u rly need to know is that they’ve fucked twice before & he’s dad’s best friend lol).

a/n: thank u for all the support on this series. i’m literally so obsessed with all of you it’s not even funny. enjoy this while we collectively grieve the end of the season, & i’ll be here writing fic in the meantime. Don’t forget to join the taglist for any and all upcoming work! -em <333333

—

It had taken all of ten seconds for you to lose your shirt, your jeans, and your most beloved pair of (now ruined) panties after stepping foot in Joel Miller’s apartment.

“‘Fuckin’ soaked already—been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

And those tantalizing fingers. They were third on the list of things you thought about when you touched yourself, right after his cock and the insatiable look that haunted his eyes when he was inside you. Joel’s talents were wasted as a smuggler—he’d have made a fantastic pianist or maybe a guitarist with the way that index and that damned thumb conspired to make you sing for him.

“Anyone else touch you here since me?“ “No, Joel—just you—only you.” “Attagirl.”

He’d gotten you fully naked (something he’d never bothered to do before) and writhing in his grip in a matter of seconds, laying rough kisses down your spine with patience and attention. Every single one was a spoken promise: I’m coming back for you.

“Look at you, baby, takin’ a real man all by yourself.”

Hands on your hips, knees pressed to the worn-in mattress—every other word in the English language omitted itself from your vocabulary as Joel drew his name from your lips over and over and over again, the thick length of his cock easing you to oblivion with every gratifying stroke.

“Gonna make this pussy come til’ you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Feeling his cum drip down your thigh, barely having a second to breathe before being manhandled onto your back, hands searching your body, mapping you out like a foreign land before taking him in again. “It aches, Joel.” Crying softly into his neck, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking down your cheeks. “M’jus’ breakin’ you in, angel.” The smell of his hair anchoring your senses to right here, right now as release washes over you again and again and oh, Joel’s hands on the outsides of your thighs to steady your shaking legs.

“Eyes up baby, wanna see ‘em while I’m comin’ on that pretty face.”

Joel tasted like salt and sin and his stickiness on your cheeks felt warm like a late august sun. Watching you blink your lust-filled and trust-filled eyes, grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair, Joel memorized the way your pouting mouth looked painted with his seed. Thick, dark eyebrows creasing together as a groaned ‘fuckin’ hell’ fell from his open lips—with you, he became an artist, and with him, you were a blank canvas.

Now, the moonlit room was quiet; with every primal need purged from both your systems, your exhausted bodies lay entangled, empty and content. Joel’s heartbeat had settled a few minutes after yours—you’d made note of it with your ear pressed to his chest. But every twitch or fidget from the hand resting on the curve of your waist had your own rhythm picking up double-time, sending hot blood coursing through every now-aching limb.

“You should go,” he grumbles after a while, eyes still closed, body still at rest. Fucking you had basically rendered the man comatose. “Your dad’ll raise hell if he sees an empty bed.”

You scoff. “It’s not like he’s ever cared before—remember when Emma and I snuck out to the old mall and I radio’ed him to get us out?” Joel chuckles, remembering the fond memory. After all, it had been him and not your old man who’d shown up to kick down those crumbling cinema doors, partly rescuing you but mostly reaming you out for being such a careless, stupid teenager.

“And either way, Miller, I’m an adult.”

This time, it’s Joel’s turn to scoff. “Jus’ ‘cause you’re legal, dun’ make you an ‘adult.’ You still whine like a kid.”

You giggle softly as he mocks your indignant tone, feeling the lungs beneath you rumble subtly, too.

Joel was always softest and at his most vulnerable after sex. Well, aren’t all men the same? You figured it was just the nature of the act that left its participants a little more tender and a little less inhibited after its completion. It was strange to remember that Joel was a man like any other.

And the man that you’d allowed to ruin you so skillfully, to burn himself on the archives of your mind, somehow remained a complete mystery to you. He was a tangled web of stifled emotions, unspoken sentences, and chilling stories you’d heard from your inebriated father.

If there was any time to untangle him, it was now.

Joel’s t-shirt is damp with his sweat, and yours, too. What a shame that he hadn’t removed it earlier. He was so very impatient when it came to fucking you, and despite having enough patience this time to get you naked, he didn’t bother to give himself that same treatment. At this point, you felt too self-conscious to ask, pretty well certain that he’d turn down your request, anyways. Peeling your profile from the navy blue fabric, you gaze up at him inquisitively, a steadying hand pressed tentatively against his broad chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your voice sounds small, like that of a scared child. It makes you cringe.

“Hmph,” he grunts, eyes firmly closed.

Better than nothing. A start.

“Well,” you begin, painfully slowly, tracing timid circles under his collarbone, “Sometimes, I think—”

“S’great, sweetheart,” he interjects in mock earnestness. “Good for you.”

“Knock it off, Miller,” you slap his shoulder playfully. A sly, amused expression teases his features.

After a long, heavy pause, with only the trickling and creaking of the old building occupying it, you soldier on.

“Sometimes, I think that when you’re… well, fucking me… you, well, you kind of use me to—vent.” There. You’d said it. “Like, your frustrations.”

A long exhalation escapes Joel’s lips as he mulls over your words, choosing eventually to respond with cautious and dismissive humor.

“This your way of askin’ me if you’re more’n my human Xanax?”

“No, asshole.”

He hums quietly. The distant sound of a gunshot travels through the open window, dragging you both back to the present moment.

A forced sigh. “I wanted to ask you what you’re trying to get off your mind.”

Joel tenses almost imperceptibly underneath you, an air of seriousness collecting around him.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grumbles, amusement fading from his tone. “M’not really interested in talkin’ about our feelings together.”

The harshness of his words only entices you to push him again, to understand the man who so clearly understood you. There was something there–likely many things there–that he had fucked into you. Things that you now need to know. Things calling to you like an abandoned childhood home.

You want to pull him into yourself, crawl under his very skin and exist there for a minute or two. In his bed, in his place, and you’re still worlds apart.

“I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings, Miller. I just want to know that I’m not letting, like, a total, raging maniac climb between my knees.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His eyes flit open, and as soon as they do, you recognize the vacant, apathetic expression that had characterized him for you all these years. He grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows, and you sit up, yanking at the tangled sheets to cover yourself.

“Ever been outside the QZ, sweetheart?” He asks, his poorly restrained temper slicing through his words.

Looking down at your hands, you trace the cream-colored creases stretching along the blanket, shaking your head no, side to side.

“S’right. Not a single man on this planet that’s not a total, raging maniac. Enough fear, thirst, or hunger…” something truly terrifying creeps onto his expression, a vision of darkness, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Not with soldiers, not with your father, not even with Joel.

“Everyone’s a killer.”

You swallow slowly, trailing your eyes up to meet his charged gaze. The room feels cold.

“Are you?”

His shadowed eyes narrow with irritation. “Am I what, sweetheart?”

“A killer.”

Then it’s regret and violence corrupting his features, and before you know it, Joel Miller is somewhere else. It takes a long time for him to come back to you (if you can even pretend to claim that Joel had ever been with you in the first place).

He hesitates, huffing quickly with frustration and looking away for a brief moment before focussing back on you—conceding to your question with a quick nod.

An acidic taste collects on your tongue, but his answer isn’t surprising. You’d always known in some way that Joel had taken lives. Still, it felt strange to hear him acknowledging it, to see the pain that admitting to it caused him. His actions actually bothered him. That meant he had a soul in some jagged, twisted form and that certain things could affect it. Thinking about that made your temples hurt.

“For what reason?”

You can’t help it—you’d come this far, and it felt like failure to quit prying. It doesn’t matter that Joel’s a grenade with no safety lever. You know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes, but you’d grown up diffusing your father daily. Bombs were your specialty.

“Does it matter?”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak softly. It almost makes you jump.

“I think so.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with irritation. Otherwise, he stays surprisingly level. Some hopeful part of you tries to whisper that some softer part of him actually wants you to get under his skin.

“Alright.” You stare at him, stunned at his forfeiture, as he breathes a dark, humorless laugh. “But you’re gonna hate me for my answer.”

There’s a loaded pause as you gape expectantly at him. His head falls back, eyes fixed to the chipping, washed-out ceiling.

“In the early days of the outbreak, before FEDRA had the QZs figured out… things weren’t easy. You gotta understand that.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room’s silence, vibrating through your stilled body. “I’ve killed, tortured, n’hurt more people’n I can count. Sometimes to save myself, sometimes someone else, ‘n other times… other times jus’ because. And,” he groans, laying his back against the pillows as his harrowing monologue comes to a close, “It wasn’t always life or death, either.”

You pull the sheets in close to your chest, shuddering partly due to his words, partly due to his delivery. As if he was warning you. As if he wanted you to hear the truth and…

And punish him for it.

With his eyes shutting again, he can’t see you studying him. He’s probably assumed that a look of abject horror has poisoned your complexion. As you angle yourself to view his resting body—the pained expression causing his eyebrows to furrow, lips pressed tightly together—an overwhelming rush of adoration expands in your lungs, swelling inexplicably and uncontrollably in your chest. Your thoughts blare at full blast inside your racing mind.

Joel was capable; he had blood lust and an inner violence that meant he felt, deeply, and he’d die—or even better, kill—for those he loved. He was…

Joel was perfect.

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to feel—maybe it meant that you needed to be studied by a team of psychiatrists. Either way, the thought of his agonized soul, carrying on out of sheer spite and a reluctant desire to protect his own had you melting at his side. Joel wasn’t static, unfeeling, or a ghost, he was real, and he was alive. Growing up in a near-dead world haunted by once vibrant cities had made that trait alone extremely precious.

He remains still while you move his arm, wiggling next to him to sit back on your calves and looming over his unyielding form. Maybe he thinks you’ve pulled a gun on him and is just giving you a chance to pull the trigger.

Dropping the pale sheet from your breasts, you caress Joel’s harsh jaw in one hand, sneaking the other down, down his stomach and under the waistband of his briefs.

His eyes surge open, finding yours and filling with confusion. You burn with affection, a kind of fierceness that wasn’t there before.

Brow creasing, eyelids fluttering as he hardens in your grasp. You wordlessly entice him once again, bowing down and over to press tender kisses to his neck.

“I could never hate you, Joel Miller.”

He whimpers softly as you stroke him—tantalizingly slow in big, long pulls—it makes your heart flutter to hear him whine for you.

A refreshing reversal of roles.

You ease your way down, trailing your lips down his scarred side and over to his front, exploring the strip of grey hair marking the center of his abdomen.

Joel watches you, longing on his lips, but the uncertainty still lingers. You need him to listen.

“I’d kill and torture if it meant survival—” you arrive at his hard length, pumping it in your hand right next to your softened features.

“And I would kill and torture for you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you part your lips around the tip of his cock, drinking in his fascination as you take him in slowly, wholly. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses the back of your throat.

Once again, you’re filled with Joel.

A soft hiss, and then his face becomes a symphony of pleasure, disbelief, and, finally, hunger. His large hand caresses the back of your head, capable fingers tangling softly in your hair as you glide up and down his length, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and your own acidity on his satin-smooth skin.

He only parts from your stare when you draw lazy, adoring circles around his tip, throwing his head back and grinding out a ‘Jesus Christ.’

It’s almost too much for him when you start using your hands, making it your life’s purpose to eagerly please every inch, every square millimeter of him. You drag your tongue from the base of his length all the way up to the top, silver-lined eyes boring intensely into his own.

“Shoulda let you do this sooner,” he breathes, gently pushing your head down until your nose brushes against those dark, curly hairs. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with a mouth full of cock.”

There he is.

You pull off him, strings of saliva trailing down from your lips to the glistening tip of his length. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

In a haze, perfectly slowly, Joel throws his head back with a low growl. You stroke him affectionately, spit and his own salt collecting between your fingers as you wait patiently for his reply.

Then he pushes himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his rough hands around your upper arms and easing you up off his length. “Not this time, baby.” You’re straddling him, taking in the unfamiliar care spoiling his tone and softening his hard features when he leans forward, locking you in place like a missing puzzle piece he’d spent his whole damn life searching for. His cock rests between your bodies, pressing exquisitely against your abdomen.

“Only got one more in me, sweetheart. M’not plannin’ on wastin’ it.”

He lifts his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks between them like some kind of priceless, fascinating object. It all feels so paradoxical: innocent despite the filthiness of his words, gentle despite the forest fires blazing in his gaze. Searching your eyes, he runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone.

And he kisses you.

It’s not bruising at first—it’s a soft, curious question, an experiment. The grey-flecked hair of his mustache brushes the crescent of your Cupid’s bow, and the feeling almost brings you to tears. So you lean into it, deepening the kiss with hard pressure, searching for the answer on his tongue. That’s when his hands tangle in your hair, and his lips steal the oxygen right out from your lungs as he reciprocates fiercely.

It’s like watching a prisoner take his first steps out into the sun after being held in isolation for a decade. You wonder if it had been that long for Joel.

Without breaking away, you trail a hand down the fabric of his t-shirt. Then, you’re grabbing it from the bottom and hitching it up his abdomen. He pulls away just a half-inch to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, his own marked with apprehension.

“I want all of you,” you plead breathlessly, sliding off his starved lips.

Joel ducks his head, staring at the meeting place between your fingers and his cotton.

“If…” he tries, words clumsy, voice gruff. A bit of bashful humour underscores his tone, too. “F’I let that happen, you’ll see that I’m really jus’ an old man, angel.” You begin to protest, having come prepared with another I-like-them-old-and-decrepit speech, but he cuts you off, anticipating your reaction. “Jus’ been a long time since I looked fit enough for somethin’ like you.”

It’s almost too ridiculous. Joel Miller, worried about how you’ll receive his appearance after you’d deep-throated him for admitting to Geneva-convention levels of violent crime.

This time, it's your turn to cup his face, cradling him reverently between your hands with passionate devotion.

“You and me might be different on the outside,” you begin, surprising yourself with the conviction dripping from your own tone. “But deep down? I’m just as rotten as you.”

His mouth breaks into a genuine smile, and he chuckles, creases lining the corners of his eyes as if carved there by God’s own hand. Nodding with concession, he shrugs his shirt off; you reach out to help him to pull it off entirely.

Scars, definition, and tan skin stretch with every shaky breath he takes. Fuck. The tips of your fingers explore him, honoured by the feel of likely being the first in ages to claim this spot, and that one, and this one here, too–Joel’s turned you into a conquistador, a crusader.

“You’re so, so handsome, Joel.”

It’s not enough to see him, wholly exposed, flesh-blood-skin-scars-and-muscle. Nothing’s ever made you feel so safe and so warm; Joel is a worn-out, hand-me-down jacket that you can’t seem to part with; he’s candles during a thunderstorm, a thick blanket begging you to wrap yourself in it. You want him on you, against you, inside you.

So you take the man, and you kiss him—ardently.

His breathing hitches when you grasp his length, and it stops completely when you slide it between your slick folds, pulling every inch of him inside yourself appreciatively. You swallow his groan as he inhales your gasp.

Your hips move together in tandem. Rocking against his thighs as his hands anchor into your hair, or on your breasts, your ass, your waist—Joel holds you as close to himself as physically possible, threatening to crush you between his arms, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a starving kind of need.

Old habits die hard. Joel gets swept up in the way you start struggling to kiss him back, the involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your helpless fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Sliding his hands under your ass, he holds your hips steady. Then, he’s spreading you open to receive him more readily, dictating the rhythm, the angle, and the brutality of how he fucks you.

Ruining you to completion was quickly becoming an addiction.

He smiles against your mouth when you give him a muffled “mmm,” releasing your lips to watch, a captivated audience, as your eyebrows knit together, relishing the sound of your lungs filling with short, pleading gasps.

“Gonna be bruised inside n’ out, baby.” Joel’s promise barely registers over the clap of his skin against yours and your own wanton moans. A thoroughly cock-drunken expression and the worship of his name on your tongue win you some hard-earned praise.

“Taken me so many times tonight—been such a good lil’ toy.”

Your lips slide down the stubble and the rough skin of his cheek, limp body giving out with every punishing snap of his hips. Still, you attempt speech, stammering out a “Joel, I-I want—” that’s mostly unintelligible.

“I know, baby,” he coos, words muffled by your hair, hot breath fanning out over the valley of your neck. “S’hard to use your words when you’re jus’ so full, huh?”

After finding the strength to straighten up and face him, your mouth moves from its permanent ‘ah’ shape to string together a pleading, desperate sentence. Joel doesn’t make it easy for you, picking up the intensity of his strokes, dragging you to the edge of bliss.

“I wanna—I want you to show me how to ride you—to take you—please—let me make you come.”

He laughs softly into your shoulder: the sight and the sound of a woman begging to do the work was a kind of rarity (albeit an appreciated one, at his age) in his experience. Acquiescing, he lowers you back onto his broad thighs, slowing his rhythm, and giving you a chance to catch your shallow, uneven breath.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Like a true cocky bastard, Joel leans back against the mess of strewn pillows, casually tucking his hands behind his head and leaving you to steady yourself on top of him, velvet walls still fluttering and squeezing adoringly around him.

You hold yourself up with your palms pressed flat against his chest. Rock slowly and carefully against his hips, observe the sight of your fingernails pressing into his unyielding chest. A whimper tumbles from your sore, parted lips as Joel’s tip nudges your inner-most sensitive spot.

“Eyes on me.”

Hardened hands reach out to circle your waist. “You look at me when you’re riding,” he instructs.

“Show me how grateful you are for this cock.”

His voice is strict and firm but gentle all the same. Joel relaxes underneath you. It feels good—so good—to watch your body undoing his own; it feels even better when he flexes involuntarily inside you, stretching open your sore, aching, and somehow still needy cunt. Locked into his lustful, dominant gaze, you speed up, throwing your hips back to grind enthusiastically against him. He watches first your eyes and then your breasts, palming them, teasing your hardened nipples roughly.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Low and gravelly and filthy, his question looms over your body, only adding to the soft thud drumming inside the eager bundle of nerves between your thighs.

He makes you realize that you really, really do.

You nod eagerly at him; Joel gives you a knowing expression of sympathy.

He never could help his condescension at watching you crumble so easily from so little.

“Show me, angel.”

So you do–Joel holds you steady as your hand falls to your clit, drawing clumsy circles over that one aching spot. Your fingers are frustratingly unskilled compared to his, but at this level of arousal, you’ll do anything to ease that mounting pressure. You focus hard, multitasking through your euphoria.

Him watching as you pleasure yourself excites you. Squeezing him harder, riding him with newfound passion—Joel groans as his long-awaited orgasm builds between his thighs, watching you bounce up and down his tense, throbbing length. His darkening eyes beckon you to keep going, to tip him over the edge.

You want to fall into them when he comes inside you.

He knocks your hand away, replacing your index and middle fingers with a broad, calloused, impatient thumb against your grateful bud. “Ohmygod–Joel–” and the rush worsens, his fingers acting as catalysts for the all-too-familiar sensations spreading across your core.

“With me, baby,” his voice is gruff, restrained by need, want, lust. “Lemme feel you comin’ when I fill you up–s’it, good fuckin’ girl–”

Tears collect on your lashes, and a sob heaves from your throat. You reach your climax for him, the ache from your clit spreading to overtake every inch of your body. Joel comes too. He tucks your head into the soft, damp skin of his neck and fists the hair at the back of your head. Your legs ache with absence the moment he pulls his fingers away from your core. Still, his only instinct as his seed spills between your walls is to pull you into himself as tightly as possible, to intertwine himself wholly and eternally with your young, devoted soul.

He doesn’t let you move after it’s over. One arm circles your waist, the other snakes up your back; it feels like standing at the base of the pearly gates of heaven. When his laborious exhales brush the top of your spine, it’s those damn angels sighing.

And it feels like he’s here. It feels like you’ve landed somewhere together, no longer strangers but something else. Something new. Something stronger. Sweeter. And worlds more dangerous.

Joel Miller running his thumb up and down the plunge of your neck. Joel Miller cursing himself for allowing you to take a hammer and chisel to the walls he’d spent painstaking years putting up, eternities before you were even born.

Joel Miller realizing that he can’t find it in himself to let you leave.

“For the record, sweetheart—I’d torture n’ kill for you, too.”

You have no trouble believing him, smiling softly against his shoulder.

—

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Tumblr on mobile loves to destroy my fics by screwing with the last few hundred words SO here are the lyrics to Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana Del Rey lmao <3

I come from a small town, how about you? I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want you to come Eighty miles North or South will do I don't care where as long as you're with me And I'm with you and you let me

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in poems and songs Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me hold you like a baby

I come from a small town far away I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want (need) you to come I guess I could manage if you stay It's just if you do I can't see myself having any fun, so

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity

We could get lost in the purple rain Talk about the good old days We could get high on some pink champagne Baby, let me count the waves

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