#lou x you

[momoiro-hime]

putting my ocs in every AU i want part. 34791

| Do NOT repost or use without permission.

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[tommylovingho]

bucktommy + hands

[meep-meep-richie]

proof that tommy is the perfect first boyfriend for buck

[redwhitebuddie]

[buddie-buddie]

Buck drums his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel of his Jeep, his left knee bouncing as he waits out the red light in front of him. His shift ended half an hour ago, but the tension in his shoulders hasn’t budged. He thought the drive across town to Tommy’s would help— windows down, music blaring— but it’s done nothing to quiet the anxiety buzzing beneath his skin.

The light turns green, and Buck presses the gas pedal a little too hard, the Jeep lurching forward. Driving through the quiet, tree-lined streets of Tommy’s neighborhood usually settles him, quiets his mind in the way that only the promise of strong arms and that warm, familiar smile can. But tonight, even the hum of crickets and the soft glow of porch lights can’t soothe the unease twisting in his gut.

He pulls up in front of Tommy’s house and sits for a moment, his hands resting on the wheel. He stares at the front door, watching as a couple of moths flutter around the porch light Tommy always leaves on for him. It’s something so small, yet it hits him right in the chest every time. It makes Buck’s skin flood with warmth, makes those three little words rise in his chest until he can practically taste them on the back of his tongue.

In every other relationship, those words felt like a lifeline— something he had to cling to, something that had to be said and something that had to be heard, just to make sure he wasn’t standing on shaky ground. He found himself constantly waiting for that reassurance, always needing to feel wanted. Even when the words came, they didn’t bring the safe, steady feeling he was so desperate for. Instead, they left him restless, chasing a sense of belonging that slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on.

It’s different with Tommy.

He doesn’t feel rushed, doesn’t feel pressured. He doesn’t feel like there’s a countdown ticking in the background, waiting for the moment those words will finally fall from his lips or Tommy’s. He’s content to let it be what it is, for as long as it takes.

Because with Tommy, it doesn’t have to be said. He can feel it.

He hears it in the quiet moments that hang between them on slow mornings, when they’re curled up together in bed, limbs tangled beneath the sheets, the world outside forgotten. He feels it when they’re in the car together, when Tommy’s left hand rests on the steering wheel and his right hand settles on Buck’s thigh like it belongs there.

It’s in the small, thoughtful things— like the porch light, glowing softly and guiding him home. It’s in the way Buck’s favorite coffee quietly appeared in Tommy’s cabinets, how his fancy, hard-to-find body wash showed up on the ledge in Tommy’s shower one day.

It’s in the way Tommy leans in close, steadying him when his mind runs too fast, grounding him without a word. How he always remembers the little things— like Buck’s complicated coffee order from the cafe down the street from the loft, or how he always wakes up thirsty in the middle of the night. 

It’s in the glass of water that’s always on the nightstand next to Buck’s side of the bed. It’s in the feel of Tommy’s hand on the small of Buck’s back when they’re out, a touch that says I’m here without needing to say anything at all. How, when Buck has had a hard day, Tommy makes space— quiet, gentle space— for him to just be, without asking for anything in return.

It’s in those little moments, tucked away between heartbeats and breaths, where words aren’t needed. 

Tommy leaves the porch light on. And even if they haven’t said as much yet, it feels like love, all the same. 

Buck leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes for a second, exhaling slowly through his nose. The knot of unease in his chest hasn’t disappeared, not entirely, but it’s loosened just enough for him to get a deep breath and turn the engine off. 

He finally gets out of the car, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat. He walks up the path to the front door, the sound of his boots quiet against the brick. The porch light casts a warm glow over everything, and Buck finds himself smiling, just a little.

Before he can dig out the key Tommy gave him a few weeks ago, the door swings open, and there’s Tommy— hair mussed, barefoot, wearing one of his old threadbare t-shirts that’s too soft for its own good. Buck’s heart unclenches just a little. 

“Did they let you out early for good behavior?” Tommy says by way of greeting, his mouth curling into that little lopsided smirk Buck loves so much. He steps to the side, his back against the open door to let Buck through.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Buck mutters, pausing as he steps inside to meet Tommy’s lips in a soft kiss. While Gerrard didn’t technically let him out early, it was the first time in the last few weeks that he didn’t approach Buck in the last twenty minutes of the shift to saddle him with a ridiculously tedious task–– the kind that takes at least an hour–– and tell him he wasn’t to leave until it was finished. Which meant that Buck actually left the station on time for the first time in the better part of a month. 

“Hi, baby,” Tommy murmurs against Buck’s lips.

Buck exhales, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit as he leans into Tommy, chasing the kiss for a moment longer. His hands come to rest lightly on Tommy’s hips, grounding himself in the familiar feel of his steady, solid warmth.

“Hi,” he whispers back, his voice low and tired. He lingers there, forehead pressed gently against Tommy’s, letting the moment stretch between them. 

Tommy pulls back slightly, his thumb brushing along Buck’s jaw in a way that feels like both a comfort and a promise. “Rough shift?”

“Uh,” Buck toes his sneakers off, leaving them beside the door next to Tommy’s boots. “Weird one,” he says, trying and failing to suppress the weariness that pulls at the corners of his voice.

He lets his bag drop to the floor beside his shoes as Tommy turns to close the door with a quiet click. Buck watches as he locks up and flips the porch light off, a quiet confirmation of Buck’s suspicions that Tommy turns it on for him, a 60-watt beacon guiding him here, guiding him home.

The realization settles deep in Buck’s chest, spreading warmth through him like a slow-burning fire. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of being cared for like this— so subtly, so consistently, without any sort of fanfare or obligation. It’s not something he had to ask for or fight to get. It’s just here, waiting for him.

Buck swallows hard, the tight knot of exhaustion and frustration from his shift loosening just a little more. Tommy catches the look on Buck’s face, his expression softening as he steps back into Buck’s space.

“C’mon,” Tommy murmurs, his hand finding the small of Buck’s back, the same familiar touch that grounds him every time. 

Buck leans into the touch, letting Tommy steer him toward the couch. He slumps onto it, dropping his head into his hands with a low sigh. Tommy sits beside him, close enough that their knees bump, but doesn’t say anything else. He’s good at that— letting the silence sit until Buck is ready to speak.  

“Gerrard hugged me,” Buck blurts out, his hands tugging at his hair. 

Tommy goes still for a second, and then— “He hugged you?” There’s disbelief in his tone, and when Buck lifts his head to meet Tommy’s eyes, he sees that crooked smirk forming again, fighting to stay serious.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Buck mutters, voice tight with frustration. “He— He told me he’s gonna take me ‘under his wing.’” He tears his hand from his hair long enough to make air quotes around Gerrard’s words.

Tommy blinks. Then snorts.  

“Under his wing?” Tommy echoes. “That’s where all the love and joy of life go to die.”  

Buck huffs out a laugh. He leans back against the couch cushions, his hands falling to his lap. “You’re not helping.”  

“I’m not trying to help yet,” Tommy replies, smirking again. He nudges Buck’s knee with his own. “I’m trying to make you laugh so you don’t spiral. Looks like I’m halfway there.”  

Buck shakes his head, but the small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth anyway.  

“Okay, seriously,” Tommy continues, his voice softening. “What happened?”  

Buck sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I– I don’t know. He had us line up at the start of shift. Went down the line and was his… usual self to everyone else. And then he got to me and– and…” Buck’s voice trails off, discomfort curling in his gut as he relives the moment. “He– He told me I saved his life and then he hugged me.” He drags his hands down his face. “And now, suddenly, I’m his pet project.”  

Tommy’s brow furrows. “He really hugged you?”

Buck makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Yeah. A hug. Not, like, a friendly slap on the back, but a full-body, completely awkward, get-in-here-son hug. You should’ve seen everyone else’s faces. I thought Eddie was going to keel over.”  

Tommy lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “That’s... something.” He leans back, resting an arm along the top of the couch behind Buck. His fingers slip into Buck’s hair, running through his curls as the silence hangs between them. Buck relaxes into the touch, tipping his head toward Tommy, leaning into the warmth and steadiness of his hand.

“Under his wing,” Buck mutters again, almost to himself. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means you’re officially his new favorite. Congratulations, babe. You’ve leveled up.”

“Oh, yeah. Lucky me,” Buck deadpans, dragging his hands down his face. “Just what I’ve always wanted—mentorship from a guy who makes my skin crawl.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers still threading gently through Buck’s curls. The silence between them stretches, comfortable but charged, like Tommy is waiting, watching, reading Buck the way he always does. The humor fades from his face, replaced by something softer, more careful. “Okay,” Tommy murmurs after a moment, his fingers brushing lightly along the nape of Buck’s neck. “What’s really going on?”

Buck freezes for a second, caught between wanting to say it and wanting to shove it down. Tommy always has this way of coaxing things out of him without even trying. He approaches him with equal parts gentleness and insistence, like peeling back layers until Buck has no choice but to lay it all bare.

“It’s nothing,” Buck tries, voice thin.

“Evan.” Tommy’s voice is low, steady, patient. His thumb sweeps a slow circle against the back of Buck’s neck. “Talk to me.”

Buck blows out a breath, frustrated more with himself than anything. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair as if it might shake the thoughts loose.

“I don’t even know that I meant to save him,” Buck admits, his voice tight. “I can’t... I can’t tell if I pushed him because I heard the blade, or if I just— snapped.”

Tommy stays quiet for a beat, letting the weight of Buck’s words settle between them. His hand doesn’t leave the back of Buck’s neck, fingers still working in soothing circles. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Both?” Buck glances at him, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah.” Tommy shrugs, his expression steady but kind, his gaze warm with quiet understanding. “You’re not exactly known for your patience, Evan. But that doesn’t mean your instincts aren’t solid. Maybe you snapped, and maybe you also saved his miserable life at the same time. Those things don’t cancel each other out.”  

Buck lets the words sink in, his jaw tightening as he rolls them over in his mind. He exhales slowly, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit. “I– I don’t know. I keep thinking, what if– what if it wasn’t instinct? What if it was just... me losing control?”

Tommy’s thumb strokes a slow path along the back of Buck’s neck, and he leans in even closer, their foreheads almost touching. “You’re human,” Tommy says, his voice gentle. “You get angry. You hit your limit. But you wouldn’t have let him die, even if you wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Buck huffs out a wet laugh, shaky but real. “I definitely wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Tommy grins, brushing a kiss against Buck’s temple. “Rightfully so.”

Buck closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink into the warmth of Tommy’s presence, the steadiness of his voice, the way his hand stays firm and reassuring on the back of his neck.

“I just don’t want him anywhere near me,” Buck admits, well aware of how petulant and childish he sounds— and yet, he doesn’t care. Something about Tommy makes it easy for Buck to drop the mask he wears everywhere else, to let the frustration and helplessness spill out without fear of judgment. With Tommy, he doesn’t have to be composed or tough all the time; he can just be— messy, tired, and human. Tommy’s presence is like a safety net, one that will catch him no matter how ridiculous he sounds or how tangled his emotions get.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this,” Buck mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“You will,” Tommy says without hesitation. “Keep your head down, lean on all of us who’ve got your back, and wait him out. He's going to burn out or screw up sooner or later. You’ve just gotta outlast him.”  

Buck huffs a tired, bitter laugh. “I’m not good at keeping my head down.”

“I know,” Tommy murmurs, his lips brushing the top of Buck’s hair in a soft, steadying touch. “But you’re good at the important stuff— like saving people. Even assholes who don’t deserve it.”

Buck closes his eyes, leaning into Tommy, the familiar weight of his hand still resting on the back of Buck’s neck. The knot in his chest loosens just a little more, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit under the warmth of Tommy’s words. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m getting tired of being good at that.”

Tommy’s arms tighten around him, pulling Buck closer. “That’s okay, too,” Tommy says simply. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, low and steady and full of quiet, unwavering conviction. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself.”

Buck closes his eyes, sinking deeper into Tommy’s embrace. This time, when those three little words rest on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t swallow them down. Even though he knows they won’t ever be enough, he can’t think of anywhere better to start. 

“I love you,” Buck whispers, the words slipping out like an exhale, simple and unforced.

For a moment, Tommy stays perfectly still, as if letting the words settle between them. Then, slowly, a smile curves against Buck’s temple. 

Tommy presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s birthmark, soft and reverent. “I love you, too.” 

And just like that, everything feels lighter. Not perfect. Not fixed. But it’s enough.

It’s quiet between them, the kind of silence Buck used to hate. The kind he used to scramble to fill with words, desperate to bridge the gaps. But here, in Tommy’s arms, the silence feels different. It feels easy. It feels safe. 

It feels like home.

also on ao3

[ellieswyfe]

Positions

"oooh waitaminuteee.." the position he had you in was absolutely nasty. he had your knees pushed up to your tits in missionary and was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot which drew stars from your eyes. "unghh...all i-in my tummy pa," you looked up at him teary eyed.

"yea? you like that baby- show me where you feel it at mama." he responded. a mixture of wet sounds, moans, and the bed-board, was all that could be heard in the room. it smelt like straight sex- pure sin and if you weren't in the position you were in you would probably be disgusted- you should be but it felt too good to even care. "looook, i-it's right hereee," you sobbed, reaching your tiny hand past your belly pudge to show him where he was pleasuring you.

in between feeding you deep, long strokes, he looked down at the connect of his dick inside your thick wet pussy and moaned. flipping you over on your belly, putting you into a new position, while beads of sweat dripped down his forehead and abs. "mhm gonna make me nut ma..fuck” he threw his head back in satisfaction at the delicious sight.

“s-shit aah..too much sl-slow downn” you whined when feeling his tip prod at your cervix. the pleasurably painful thrusts becoming too overwhelming for you in this position after you’ve came countless times already. you make a damn near deadly mistake when you reach down to push at his lower torso hoping to stop the extent of the thrusts.

“nu-uh move ya fucking hands..not done wit you yet,” he said picking up the pace smacking your hands away…not being in the position to complain all you could do was take it and hope your not too sore the next morning. </3

mood song

: ONYYY, connie, erenn, maybeee jean if you squint

a/n (not my best work but ive got writers block 😔 so send me some asks nd ill write them!!)

[marscardigan]

babysitting

joel miller x reader

Not a lot, just forever universe

Summary: Ellie and Joel have one mission that seemed way harder than killing an infected: taking care of a toddler.

friendly reminder that requests are open! if you want to se anything about this universe, just ask! <3

It was the first time in months you had the chance to have a girls dinner with Maria and your friends. It wasn't because you didn't have time, in fact, these last weeks you have been bored. But you didn't want to make any plans because your daughter was in a phase where everything that she did was new. What if you missed something important? What if she said her first word, or took her first step?

After days of Joel eating your ear off of how you needed to go out and socialize for a bit, you finally agreed. It was only one afternoon, it wouldn't happen anything special. You trusted Joel with your baby. He proved you again how a great father he was. How there is still caring and greatness inside that tough outside.

You had been gone for an hour - an hour - when everything started to go downhill. Clementine threw up her dinner all over Ellie's shirt, and Joel couldn't get her to sleep.

"What are we supposed to do?" He sighed, rocking his daughter's body. "I’ve tried everything at this point"

"We?" Ellie shouted from the bathroom, still cleaning her shirt. "She is your daughter!" Joel ignored the comment. "I don't know! Normally she would be asleep by now."

Both of them almost started crying from desperation when Clementine's cries turned to screams. "You could try to sing to her, I guess?" Ellie shrugged, looking at her little sister's face.

"Yeah, we could try that"

Joel started mumbling your favorite song, a lullaby that always calmed down your nerves, and used to sing it to your belly when you were pregnant.

Clementine's wails started to get quieter and quieter, until her eyes started to close. Ellie sat down at the couch, welcoming the sudden silence that now joined the house. "Ain't no way you just did that."

Joel left the baby's little body inside the crib, sitting alongside the teen. "You could've just told me to sing her sooner, you dipshit"

Ellie let out a tired laugh, and then the room fell silent again. Until.

"Diship"

Joel and Ellie glanced to each other, without moving a single muscle. "Did you just hear tha-"

"Diship"

The male got up and rapidly went alongside the crib, where Clementine was very awake and very smiley. Ellie slapped her hand into her mouth to stop the giggling. The little toddler laughed at her father's pale face, repeating that gibberish word that sounded quite like the infamous insult. When Joel tried and failed to make her forget that word, he raised his hands, defeated, and he looked at Ellie.

"You are going to tell the boss tomorrow about it"

Ellie's big smile faded, getting almost as pale as Joel.

"Ohmygod she's gonna murder me"

[veilofwinter]

#HOW SHE LOVES YOU

pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

tags: smut, fingering, MY BITCH

Her rough and calloused hands strumming her guitar strings with ease as she sings her song to you quietly. Her eyes, occasionally scanning over you to get an overview of your reaction to the lyrics.

"I just want to touch you all night long."

She looks at you as she says those last words, a smirk dawning her face. "What'd you think?" She sets the guitar aside, leaning back against the chair she was sat in.

"It was good, I enjoyed it." You chuckle. "The lyrics were a little erotic though, even for you."

Ellie laughs. "Erotic for me? You don't know who I am do you?" Ellie sits up, leaning forward against her knees. "I can get erotic." Those words cause your face to heat up, your skin getting small goosebumps. "I never said you couldn't, it's just that-" "That what? I'm too innocent or somethin? Not showing you correctly, cause I can show you."

She approaches you, standing over you. "Can I show you?" She says quietly.

Suddenly your spread out on her bed, your legs on her shoulders as she pumps her fingers in and out of your core. "Feel good yeah? Erotic enough for you?" She teases, curling her fingers to hit the one gummy spot within you that pulls a whine from your throat.

"Wait wait-!" You grip her hand, but she swats you away. "I'm tryna show you, you agreed to this remember?" She grins, plunging her fingers deeper into your walls. "Squeezing around my fingers like your enjoying this, so why are you tryna stop me?" She fake pouts, blowing softly against your clit. "E-ellie, m'close, gonna-" She curls her fingers once more, your head falling back against the bed. "Go ahead and cum for me pretty." She says softly in between your legs.

With one last groan of her name your juices flow onto her fingers, her pace slowing as she feels you tightening around her knuckles. "Did it feel good?" She laughs, causing you to sit up and close your legs.

"Was that erotic enough for you?"

an: I THINK IM IN LOVE WITH ELLIE GUYS....

[aaronsinferno]

[sidneywasfound]

Cindy Lou Who ⊰⁠⊹ฺ | FRUIT CAKE ♡

—⁠☆Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Model!Reader

—⁠☆Warning: Angst,Lando Cheating,Inappropriate language,Probably Bad English Writing.

—⁠☆AUTHOR'S NOTE: Pictures from pinterest,Thank you so much for the support you give me!!, I really appreciate it (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

dec 6 2024 via Twitter

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

dec 7 2024 via instagram

yourusername

Liked by Pacificawest and 5.467.803 more...

yourusername: 🎵The snow's gonna fall and the tree's gonna glisten🎶 Because Christmas is coming to Victoria Secret and I was thrilled by all your support for the show, Merry Christmas!

View all coments...

User: YESS GIRLLL SHOW HIM WHAT HE'S MISSING

User: Omgg,Cindy Lou who refference...? Oh she is very self aware

User: HOW COULD LANDO CHEAT ON HERR?? 😍😍

User: She's not Even that gorgeous...glad lando change her... └User: umm stfu as if you were the most popular Victoria Secret model

yourbffusername:I LOVE YOUU └Yourusername:🤍🤍🤍🤍

User: can someone tell me why Pacifica liked this post???

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

Dec 7 via Instagram

Pacificawest

Liked by Landonorris and 134.502 more...

Pacificawest: him 🤍

View all coments...

Landonorris: 🤍 └user: Always menn...

User: Gorgeous!!

User: Did anyone notice that she posted a photo of both putting the tree together like Reader did with her friend...?

User: such copycat...

User: LETS GOO PACIFICAA

User: It's good that Lando finally left his slut of an ex..

User:They Kissing....🤢🤮

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

"and i'm gonna puke at the tought of You kissing"

"the boy who i love is now in love with You..."

୨୧

"Cindy Lou who..."

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

Dividers by @bohnerrific69

[existential-queeer]

"I like Buck and Eddie together"

"I like Buck and Tommy together"

Me:

[incognit0slut]

🌸Lou’s Reading List🌸

To celebrate reaching a milestone of 6k (how did that happen??), I'm doing something different! I usually write something special for these occasions, but this time, I want to share some of my favorite fics. I've received so much love and support from so many of you, and I hope you'll give the same amount of love to these talented writers too.

Disclaimer; This list is just my personal preference of stories I’ve read recently or in the past. You can check each author’s masterlist for more of their amazing works!

ANGST

We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend by @aliteralsemicolon To lean on you by @lavenderspence Post Mortem by @actually-safer-to-kiss Crossed off, Third by @mindfullycriminal Spencer grieves your death by @mandarinmoons Epiphany by @pathologicalreid Say don't go by @mrs-weasley-reid No second chances by @spencerreiddddd His sunshine by @rreids

(I don’t read much angst I’m so sorry)

FLUFF

Take my breath away by @atlabeth In every other life by @irndad You’re too sweet for me by @januaryembrs Reader admires Spencer, Spencer comforts reader by mandarinmoons Spencer makes you fluster by @avis-writeshq Where's my wife by @reiderwriter Slumber party by @nereidprinc3ss Hold you by @radioactiveinvisible In sickness and in health by pathologicalreid Love like the sea by @rynwritesreid 24 hours by @radiant-reid I'd wait for you by @unseededtoast Innate response by @reidsdaisies Candles by @icarryitin Cute, outrage genius by lavenderspence Wingwoman by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi Love drunk by @dr-spencer-reids-queen

SMUT (18+, MDNI)

Rumoured Nights by @fortheloveofwonderland Dailing up for trouble, Check your window by @reidmotif Trophy wife, Headache relief by @gubsbuubs Flashed by @sinfulspencer Bringing your work with you by pathologicalreid There are ways to visit heaven without dying by @faunalune Good luck by @luveline Elixir by @foxy-eva Vegas Redemption by @stairain Safe and sound by @little-miss-dilf-lover Malicious Compliance by aliteralsemicolon Love bites by @spencerreidenjoyer Light of the morning by nereidprinc3ss A little less conversation by @springtyme Lingerie, hot tub by @golden1u5t Feverish by @reidsdimples Wine or wine out by @reidrum Dirty impulses by @minswriting Two sides of the same coin by @reids-slut

And while you’re at it, please take the time to check this Palestine Masterpost🇵🇸 and share as much information as you can. Posting on what is occurring right now will not ruin your aesthetic. I promise.

If you can reblog a good story, you can definitely reblog about the genocide too.

[apdreadful]

Tommy Kinard is one of the best characters to be (re)introduced to 911 since Maddie Buckley.

Not only does he have a history with the 118, he’s perfect (so far) for Buck. I mean holy shit that’s some genius casting and chemistry there.

And given the chance, his backstory has the potential to be a minefield of heartbreak and character development.

And Lou Ferrigno Jr. is knocking it out of the park. The actor and this character was obviously brought back for a reason. For an expanded role that draws on him to be funny and vulnerable and brave and a love interest. He has earned the chance to be part of a major story on a majorly successful show.

But for whatever reason some keyboard fan-squirrels are slagging the storyline and him and waving their torches because…what? They’re mad he’s doing TOO good of a job? He’s too likable as Tommy, too perfect a fit for one Evan Buckley?

This story started out getting all this positive press and chatter about the realistic and authentic portrayal of Buck embracing his bisexual side without angst or guilt. And we celebrated!

But then it turned into a bag of feral cats with a bunch of stans acting unhinged. Even the actors have said it is overwhelming.

I want Tommy (and therefor Lou) to stay. I want Tommy to be Bucks boyfriend. I want to learn more about him. I want his origin story. I want to see a queer love story that looks a lot like any other love story.

And I want Lou Ferrigno Jr. to spend some time enjoying playing a popular character on a hugely popular TV show.

[meep-meep-richie]

´´sweaty palms, saucy events, buck and tommy are thriving´´

[buckxtommy]

this art piece brought to you by my descent into madness bc of lou ferrigno jr's acting choices