sammy and his pretty little wife are so cute. you drive him totally mad.
sammy had dogs growing up. golden retrievers, labs, a pitt bull for a week, before his dad gave it away. however, this, is something else. sammy's childhood dogs, slept outside, in the dog house. at most, they slept downstairs, in their crate. they were trained. good dogs. a man's best friend.
the exact opposite, of the tasmanian devil you brought home to him. a long haired golden mini dachshund. what good is a mini dachshund? not even big enough to fight off any intruders.
you tell him you've named her waffle. he should've said no. in fact, he did say no. then you started, with the kisses, and the sweet talk. he can't deny his baby. he tries and always fails.
waffle, is nothing but trouble. he's got a wife and a dog for trouble. trouble. trouble. trouble. it seems to follow him wherever he goes. the dog is more spoiled than you are. he's pretty sure you bought her a leash with swarovski crystals in it. he can't prove it yet, but he's waiting for the credit statement to come in. he just knows it.
it started off small. little things. but little things pile up overtime.
first, there's toys all over the stairs. he falls halfway down the stairs, grabbing onto the railing for some stability. it's one of his first weekends off in forever. "honey!" he yells on his ass. a pink chew bone is in his peripheral, the object of his current demise. "your dog is leaving shit on the stairs!"
you slip out of bed, rubbing sleep out of your eyes, waffle padding behind you. "what's wrong baby?" you push down the stairs groggy.
sammy is seething. his teeth are gritted. "waffle," he starts with vitriol, "left one of her chew bones on the damn stairs."
you help him up from his ass, not that he needed your assistance. though clearly, he could take a chill pill. you kiss his cheek. "morning baby."
he exhales heavily from his nose, "honey did you hear me? almost fell down the stairs and died. you would've had a vegetable for a husband."
"mm," you grunt. "glad you're still with us." you press a chaste kiss to his lips. "what do you want for breakfast?" you don't give him a chance to answer, before you walk down to the kitchen.
then, she started getting up on the couch. she'd tried it before. little jumps here and there. she'd landed on her back a few times. sammy, always rushes to her rescue. scooping her up in his arms rubbing her back. he heard somewhere minis have sensitive backs.
"you really gotta stop doing that." he talks to her, in full fledged conversation.
he never thinks, she'll actually find her way up to the couch. that's ridiculous. the little thing doesn't weigh more than ten pounds. but then, you got her a ramp. sammy thinks it's one of your little gadgets or something. he barely pays it attention till he sees it in action.
he's watching the game. you're cooking up some dinner. not a bad way to end the night. waffle comes waltzing into the living room, strutting her way up the ramp and onto the couch. she finds her way onto sammy's lap. he's not paying attention. at first he thinks it's a stray throw pillow. you're always decorating the house. that is until he hears a whining in his lap. he looks down and he can't believe it.
"honey," he calls over. "your dog's on the couch." he nurses his beer.
you don't even peer over from the kitchen. "yeah baby," you say casually. "she does that from time to time. just rub under her chin." sammy rolls his eyes. his finger runs under the golden girl's chin, tickled by her baby whiskers.
"she shouldn't be on the couch, honey." he calls over, though still stroking the baby.
"babe," you say ignoring the subject all together. "you want quinoa or rice tonight? the chicken should be done soon."
sammy squeezes his nose bridge. "quinoa's good baby." he calls back to you.
then, you pushed him to the edge. he was fine with her sleeping in your room. though, that defeats the purpose of a dog. since, they're supposed to guard the home, she should be downstairs. in a crate. but, you begged and begged to keep her upstairs. sammy just can't deny you. he never tells you no, even if he ends up shooting himself in the foot.
you'd set up a portion of the room for her. a little bed with her name monogrammed into it. she's got some blankets. even a few toys, in her area. the squeaking in the middle of the night drives him crazy. but he can ignore it, when you cuddle up into him in the middle of the night. your soft skin ontop of his.
it's fine. it's fine. that's all he keeps telling himself.
he comes home late one night. it's been a long shift. he missed you. he can't wait to just lay down and snuggle. he's slipped off his work shoes, tie's already loosened, buttons half undone. you'll be mad in the morning he didn't take a shower before he got in bed, but none of that matters now, as the sleep deprivation is slowly taking over his body.
sammy lifts up the covers and slips into bed. he goes to wrap an arm around you, and his arm is met with a stripe wetness. his face is filled with confusion. "what the fuck?" he's then met with a warm nuzzle. "i swear to god."
can't a man lay in bed with his wife in peace? clearly not.
"sammy?" you ask, the fog still in your voice from a good rest. "how was work?" you lean over for a kiss. he presses one to you.
"fine," he says. "dog's in the bed baby." he sighs. "she's in between the two of us. we're not gonna be able to cuddle."
"waffle keeps me safe," your hand goes to lay atop of his round stomach. "someone's got my back when you're not here. she missed you almost as much as i did."
"what about her bed?" sammy's trying to find an out. he wants to hold his wife tonight. that's all he wants.
"sammy," you whine. "i'm tired. got a pilates class in the morning." sammy sighs. he closes his eyes, trying his best to sleep off his agitation.
it doesn't help once you start dressing her. sammy's never seen such a thing. waffle's jumping up his leg and she's got some pink sweater on. sammy's scratching her head, while telling her down. girl doesn't listen anyway. he doesn't know why he bothers. you're getting ready to go out in the bathroom, putting some makeup on.
"baby," he's calling you over. "waffle's got some clothes on. i've never seen a dog with clothes baby."
you walk on out, with a matching sweater. your husband, cannot, believe you. "yeah hon, we're going to the dog park. we're matching!" you scoop your pretty girl up in your arms. "do we look cute?" you hold the puppy up to your face. "we're practically twins."
sammy shakes his head with a smile on his face. "very cute baby. the cutest girls," he grabs his phone to take a picture. "smile for the camera, hon." you pose for him and he snaps the photo.
on fridays, you bring sammy lunch. every friday without fail, he knows you'll be at the station with something for him.
he'd been working a case, hyper focused. you step to his desk, paper lunch bag in hand. you've got your purse on your shoulder. "made you a hoagie today baby," you place the bag on his desk. his back is still turned to you in his desk chair. he's typing something up for a case file. "had a little help from a friend."
sammy swivels around. he gets up from the leather stuffed memory foam to give you a kiss. to his surprise, he hears a bark. a bark.
"baby don't tell me," he raises a brow at you.
nate is watching from his desk, soda cup raised to his lip. "lovers quarrel," he utters to the desk next to him.
"ok," you smile. " so i won't tell you." waffle peaks her head out of your purse, tongue flopping out of her mouth.
"we've got a future k9 applicant up in the station bryant," nate teases. he pulls the burger to his mouth, chuckling through the beef.
sammy whips his head to him, face visibly scolding him. it bears no weight over his partner. "she missed you," you tell him. you bat your eyes. it's your eyes. always your eyes, makes him weak everytime.
sammy attempts to frown. he can't. you make his heart go a million miles a minute. "yeah, i missed my girls too." he reaches over to scratch her head. waffles body relaxes under his touch.
"sammy boy's whipped," nate chuckles.
"yeah yeah," sammy sighs to the unrelenting jeers of his partner.
hi you!! this is really weird but i got the idea from a movie i watched. so Brendon and reader have been married for sometime, they both work in the hospital and it’s been a rough few months so they’ve been distant…in bed you know, like they don’t do that at all and reader feels guilty and thinks that if they don’t sleep together again he’ll cheat on her if he doesn’t already (of course he’s not)
Your day goes by in a haze. Work was the same as always but you’re distracted.
You’ve been distracted a lot recently.
The last few months have felt heavy. Not only has work been overwhelming but your husband, Brendon, well, that’s been the heaviest part.
Between both of your jobs becoming busier, you both haven’t had much time together.
You both used to have ample time in a week to meet up for lunch, go explore downtown, go out to dinners, have date nights, and everything in between. But lately these things have become dry, especially in the bedroom.
During your five years of marriage, this has never been a problem. Not to this extent.
You didn’t think much of it until it had stopped completely. Some days you were too tired or other days Brendon was tired too or busy working and not home as much.
The few times you had been eager to be under him, it never made it past a heavy makeout and some groping.
You acknowledged it had been a combination of you both not being up to it but then your mind began to wander.
Recently you had been trying to get things back to how they were only to have your advances turned down. Brendon either acted oblivious, was asleep before anything happened or ended up working late.
You thought it had been a mutual disinterest at the time but now?
You’re not so sure.
Was it you?
Maybe he was bored of you?
He did spend a lot of time at the hospital these last few months. And again you guys hadn't had sex in maybe a month or two?
No, no Brendon wouldn’t do that.
Right?
Maybe you could really initiate it. Buy new lingerie, get your nails and hair done.
That could work.
Hopefully it did.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The next day is your day off and you decide to put your plan into action.
You get your hair refreshed and styled first. Then you go to the nail salon and pick out his favorite color.
Perfect.
Your last stop was a lavish lingerie store in downtown Pittsburgh. The selection was a bit overwhelming but then you find a winning piece.
It accentuated your breasts and made your ass look fantastic. A bonus was that it matched the color of your nails.
He wouldn’t be able to resist.
Once you’re home you fix your hair a bit and apply a light makeup before changing into the lacy material.
—-
About thirty minutes later you hear the front door unlock from your spot on the bed. You adjust your hair and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your hands.
Heavy footsteps make their way down the hall towards the bedroom.
Brendon steps through the doorway, scrubs in disarray and a slight frown on his face.
“Hey baby” you say gently.
He briefly looks up as he drops his bag by the dresser.
“Hey.”
You’re taken back a bit.
Hey?
Just hey?
You knew things had been a bit rough these last few months but this is the most distant he's ever seemed.
Like he just acknowledged a roommate and not his wife.
You don’t let the dry greeting deter you.
You stand up and walk up to him.
Running your hand up his bicep and the other up on his shoulder.
“Everything okay Bren?”
He huffs a bit sarcastically “Is it ever?”
Ouch.
You bring your hand from his bicep to his face.
“Maybe I could help you relax, hmm?”
You see a ghost of a grin but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone.
“That’s nice but not tonight.”
He gently moves your hands off of him and walks around you to the walk-in closet.
You stand in the same spot for a moment. Your heart drops into your stomach and a chill runs down your spine.
What. Just. Happened.
Is this it?
Does he not find you attractive anymore?
Is he….
Is he gonna leave you?
You hold back the tears and make your way to the ensuite bathroom and lock the door.
Gripping the counter and leaning against it, you look into the mirror.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
One tear falls, and then another.
Then another until you can’t stop them from falling.
You hold both hands over your mouth to quiet the sobs that rack your body.
You back up until you meet the wall and slide down.
Your chest heaves from the sobs and agonizing pain in your heart.
He’s gonna leave me.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Brendon cracks his neck as he walks back out from the closet, scrubs discarded and now changed into fresh pajamas.
He sees your side of the bed empty but then sees the bathroom door closed and hears the shower running.
He lets out a sigh and gets into bed as he waits for you. All he wants is to get some rest and have you cuddled up against him.
Brendon knew things had been a bit strained lately and he felt a bit guilty for not being as present in your relationship like usual but things were starting to get better at work and he hoped you guys could get back to normal now.
Today has been rough like the last few months but things would change come his next shift.
He just needed to recuperate from today and then he’d have a good talk with you and apologize. Maybe take you out for dinner and a movie.
He smiles at the thought.
——
It’s been over an hour before Brendon still sees you’re not in bed.
He goes up to the bathroom door and presses his ear against it.
The shower is still on.
Weird.
He can’t hear anything else.
“Sweetheart,” he knocks lightly “you good in there?”
No response.
“Baby?” He grabs the door handle to open it but he finds it locked.
Panic starts to seep into his veins.
“Baby please open the door.”
He’s still met with silence.
Brendon’s heart starts to race as he reaches a hand up on the top of the door frame and grabs the spare key sitting there for emergencies.
Once he has the door open he looks around and then towards the shower.
His blood runs cold.
“Sweetheart!”
He runs to the shower where your naked form is sitting, slumped inside against the wall.
He practically rips the glass door off its hinges as he gets into the shower still fully clothed.
On his knees he grabs you by the shoulders and turns your face towards his.
He’s met with puffy, red rimmed eyes staring back at him.
“Hey, hey what’s wrong baby? Are you hurt? Did you fall?”
His fingers press gently but quickly around your head looking for any blood, bumps or injuries.
You slowly shake your head.
“M’fine” you mumble.
He furrows his eyebrows at your quiet words.
“You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that to convince me. C’mon let’s get you out of here. It’s freezing.”
He scoops up your cold body and sits you on the counter by the sink.
He grabs your favorite fluffy towel and wraps it around you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to help warm you up.
His heart breaks at your sad demeanor.
“Baby,” he lifts your chin up to look at him “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Tears build in your eyes and your chin trembles.
“Please don’t leave me.”
Then the tears fall as you lean your head into his shoulder.
Sobs rack your body and Brendon holds you, tears building in his eyes.
“Leave you?” He asks confused
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Y-You don’t want m-me anymore.” You manage to say between the tears.
“What?” he leans you back and gently holds your face in his hands.
“Why wouldn’t I want my wife?”
“You’ve b-been distant. I th-thought maybe we could just have s-some fun tonight but then you didn’t want me a-and I’m scared you don’t want m-me at all. That you want someone else..”
The words completely shattered Brendon’s heart.
Had he really withdrawn from you that much that you felt he didn’t love you anymore?
That you thought he’d leave you?
For someone else?
Fuck.
He had to fix this, quick.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
Your tired eyes meet his.
“First, hear me and hear me clearly. I’m never leaving you. I fucking love you. So damn much.”
He takes a deep breath.
“Second, I’ve not been honest these last few months. Gloria has been making big cuts. Letting go lots of staff, including surgeons and attendings. I heard my name was up on the list of potential ones to go. It got to me and I’ve been hauling ass every fucking day for my job. I didn’t want to admit that I was scared. I’m supposed to support you and give you everything. Give you the world…I couldn’t let you down.”
A tear falls down his cheek and without thinking you reach up and wipe it away.
“Lastly, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry I let all of that affect our marriage and make you think I didn’t love you. That I’d leave you. I swore in my vows I’d love you forever and I meant that. Every word.”
You sniffle and take a shaky breath.
“Then why’d you turn me down tonight?”
“I was so upset earlier over everything. I found out I’m for sure not getting let go but I was angry. Angry my name was even brought up for it to begin with. I didn’t want to take that out on you in any form, especially sex. But I think I already did with the lack of it over these last few months. Which again I’m sorry. I just was so overwhelmed with everything and didn’t want to force things and fake it with you. I never want that for us.”
He closes his eyes, willing himself not to cry in front of you.
Then he feels you wrap yourself around him.
“Brendon. I love you. You could never let me down. Even if you did lose your job, I wouldn’t think less of you, be disappointed in you or love you any less. I know that stuff can be scary but next time please just talk to me. This is a marriage. I’m here for you as much as you’re here for me. I can’t support you and be there for you if you don’t let me in. If you’re not in the mood for a conversation or sex or anything, just tell me. I’ll always understand. But I really thought you were gonna leave.”
He shakes his head rapidly.
“God no, baby. Never happening.”
“Good. Because I don’t think I’d survive it.”
He grabs your face and kisses you slowly.
“Also I know I didn’t say it earlier but you did look hot as hell. I’m sorry I ruined that for you.”
You chuckle a bit.
“You can make it up to me later Bren. Right now I just want to get in bed and cuddle my husband.”
Ghost's favorite position, hands down no argument, is prone bone.
Him on top, of course, one arm nestled under your torso and holding you close. The other slung above his head, forearm resting just above you in a lazy sprawl.
You've learned that this is his go-to position after eating. Something about a fully belly and feeling safe, warm in your presence just makes him too tired for the more ambitious stuff you usually do. Ghost would much rather lie on top of you, squishing you under his massive figure.
"Fuckin hell— hold still, lovie." Ghost groans when you squirm at a particularly harsh thrust. Not like you could actually go anywhere when he completely settles his weight into you and switches from thrusts to grinding.
"W– what–? Si...c'mon, baby you promised...!" You groan, huffs because he had promised to fuck you earlier!
"I'm inside you, ain't i?" He grunts, slinking the other arm under you too for a proper cuddle, the heavy thickness of his cock still deep inside.
"Yeah, but you know thats not what I— uh....simon? Si...? Oh my god—" steady snoring above you.
Of course he decided now was the best time to nap. Fucking food coma again.
...Hopefully he gets a wet dream and you get that fucking you asked for.
sammy's hosting some barbecue for the squad. he's elated. went all nine yards. sausage link, ribs, spare steaks. the man stuffed your fridge full with meat, and made it near impossible to get to your oat milk. you grit through your agitation, cause sammy is excited. he can't wait to show you off to his colleagues. gonna show off my pretty girl tonight. that's all he kept saying.
over the course of the afternoon, people are trickling in. sweat is warm on your brow. you've been a good host all day. you've socialized and smiled. you've shown off sweet baby nate. he can sing his abc's and one, two, threes, now. he's more than happy to show off all his newfound motor skills.
sammy's been on the grill all day. he looked so sexy. hawaiian shirt, sunglasses perched, and tongs in hand. jesus. you’re getting old. you’re into a home maker now. sammy bryant has ruined your youth, very cruel of him.
the night is slowly coming to a close. sammy's in the corner of your yard, with some of the other members of the squad. they're all getting ready to light up some cigars.
you've already put nate up to bed, given him his bath, made him brush his teeth. he hated toothbrush time, until you introduced baby nate, to an electric one that plays music. who would've guessed? row row row your boat, gets the boy eager to scrub his little teeth.
sammy's lucky to have you. him and his boy. you're coming back to the yard, from the house. your is hair tossed up, shoes long gone, toes extended into the grass. the yard cleanup is going to be a bitch tomorrow, you can see empty cans for miles. sammy calls you over.
"c'mere baby," he looks over to his boys. he's showing off his zippo lighter that you got him. it's gold, got your anniversary date scribed in it. your initials underneath the date.
you pad on over. "what's up? i put nate up for bed. he's wearing those dino jammies you got him." you got close to him. you wrap an arm around his neck, and you're inhaling the heavy smell of his cigar.
"that's real cute, hon." he smiles. he kisses your cheek. "was showing the boys the lighter you got me." you smile. "you want a hit baby?" he sucks in the tabacco. your hand strokes his chest.
you shake your head no. warm summer breeze, shifting your dress. "don't wanna get nic sick," you bat up at him. sammy reaches behind you, pinches your ass, and your body tenses up. "not nice," you whisper to him.
"i'm nice" he tells you. he blows some smoke in your face. there's chatter in the background you're not taking in. your brain is going fuzzy from the lust you have for him.
"you're kinda mean," you pout up at him teasing.
he scoffs, looking down at you, "i'm not." he presses another kiss to your cheek. you inhale his scent of burnt charcoal and macallan somewhere on his skin. you could take a bite out of him if he'd let you.
“you are too.” you smile up at him. he places a hand on your lower back. he shakes his head.
"you get all my sweetness, promise." his thumb runs upon your spine. you lean into his body, an arm wrapped around his waist. you're ready for the night to end. you want to lay next to your man and talk about all that you observed today. your ears were perked. completely. you soaked in a lot of hot gossip in-between your socializing.
murphy's wife is cheating on him. she told you this, three seltzers in. practically pulled you into her lap, to tell you all about her hushed affair. mind you, she lacked all volume control, inebriated.
murphy,himself, is actually fucking a badge bunny. but, you're pretty sure sammy told you about that before. however, you sneaked a peek at the girl. it was your fault. you were listening in on a conversation you weren't invited to. no one paid you any mind. murphy was showing off some young chick on his phone. big blue eyes, long blonde extensions. you had to walk away before your face opened a can of worms before your tipsy mouth did.
then, sherman. sherman, sherman, sherman. you were actually elated he left early. the guy gave you total skivs.
you poke sammy's stomach lightly, grabbing his attention. he's wrapped up in some conversation. cop talk. gun mags. all sounds the same to your tired brain. his eyes quickly snap to yours. "i have newsss for you tonight." you usher into his chest.
he smiles down at you, eyebrows raised. "good or bad?" he whispers into your ear.
your face wrinkles, "good for our nosy asses, so bad for everyone else." trouble is splayed all over your face.
his face lights up. your man, the gossip, he is. "alright, go inside, come back. come tell me nate's crying. i'll kick 'em out."
you chuckle, padding away. sammy slaps your ass, winking as you walk through the back door. "gonna go check on nate baby," you announce walking into the house.
it wouldn't be long before he'd be upstairs in your spilling his share of news. sammy's trained ears and eyes caught everything. he can already imagine the mess you're waiting to spill for him.
genuinely want to play wifey rn idk what's going on w me
I've said it before and I will say it again the 141 are not immune to the joy of doing USAmerican redneck shit. ghost would take one look at a marines booth pull up bar and take it as a personal mission to be asked to stop. the marines are sweating. get off the bar dude. there's a crowd. he will not stop until he is bodily removed and he very much doubts anyone of these pretty recruiters wants to be the one to try and fight the boogeyman
♡ synopsis: now happily married to the kind of woman sammy could only dream of before, he's a very satisfied man. but... something seems to be bothering you tonight. once you're finally in bed together, you divulge the reason for your quiet disposition this evening. afterward, you prove to him yet again just how smart he was for wedding you.
♡ content: misogyny & internalized misogyny, anti-tammi, reader is a pregnant housewife, blowjob
Sammy often calls you his guardian angel. Because coming home to you is blissful heaven. There's no shouting matches, unhinged hysterics to deal with because you did something ridiculous while he was at work earning a paycheck and putting his ass on the line to provide for you, or a wreck of a house to clean up when he walks through the door.
No, just peace and quiet and calm.
Vacuumed carpet, mopped hardwood floors, polished countertops, freshly laundered uniforms, a fresh assortment of fruits and vegetables in the kitchen, and faintly flickering candles on the coffee table which is complete with tidily organized stacks of magazines for your own respective interests.
And there's always toilet paper under the bathroom sink.
After his mess of a divorce, he was lonely, sure, but also very reluctant to ever get involved with someone ever again. After all, what if the new woman he chose turned out to be just as unstable as the last one—if not more so—and took him for all he was worth yet again, simply because he was trying to do the right thing by being a hardworking man?
Going on a reluctant search was never necessary to begin with, though, because there you were all along... From the very beginning, ahead of his filing for legal separation.
Before Sammy made you a happy little housewife, you'd been a waitress at a local diner, which he soon began to frequent after every shift, in an attempt to unwind and decompress before going home to a wife he resented.
You were a balm to his ragged nerves. Always sweet and sociable, and willing to lend an ear to listen to his woes when he actually had the energy to speak.
It gutted him that you were working ten hour shifts—and on sneakers that were being held together with naught more than duct tape, at that (he always felt guilty anytime he left you less than a $30 tip, even if all he ordered that evening was a glass of ice water). Meanwhile, Tammi was at home getting high with a damn teenager who stole something he stretched himself so fucking thin over to provide her with in the first place.
He should've known photography was just going to be another whim just because she was bored.
At that, instead of being thankful, she instead reminded him of how he wasn't enough—or doing enough—when she harped on and on over the phone about wanting to move into a house he could never dream of affording while he was just trying to do his goddamn job.
Pushing it all down, his anger manifested in other ways before long.
It made him seethe watching other men put their hands on you when you came by to refill their coffee, or bring them their ordered meals because they somehow felt entitled to you.
When he started pulling his badge to get them to back the fuck off, or leave altogether, is when he knew that he was absolutely whipped.
Whenever Sammy would try to flirt, though, your eyes would always drift to that bothersome gold band that he desperately wanted to flush down the toilet and forget about entirely.
He was fucking terrified of losing you.
So, he filed and risked half of everything—his savings, pension, personal property, and financial assets—just for a chance at having something better by your side before the day finally came where you either disappeared from the diner's outdated interior in search of more favorable prospects elsewhere, or you slipped through his fingers altogether while another man put a wedding ring on one of yours.
No more does Sammy come through the front door and toe off his black rubber boots before you suddenly appear before him. Pressing yourself affectionately to his chest, you wind your arms tightly around his neck and grant him a soft peck on the lips.
"Welcome home," you whisper. Running your fingers through his soft auburn curls, you rest your forehead gently against his. "How was your day?"
Snaking his arms around your waist, your husband gives you a careful squeeze while a contented smile crawls its way across his lips and feeling of uncontainable warmth fills his heart. "Better now."
Sliding a heavy palm over your swollen belly, the corner of Sammy's lips twitches when your little one kicks excitedly.
"He missed his daddy as much as I did," you murmur.
Falling back a step, you tug Sammy past your two's cozily decorated living room. "Go ahead and take a hot shower. Dinner's just about ready."
He smooths a hand down the back of your head. "Did you—"
"Grocery list is all checked off," you remark with a confident nod. "And the gentleman at the auto store even changed my wiper's for me."
He frowns slightly. "I could've done that, baby."
You pad into the kitchen. "Think it's just something they do," you state with a shrug. "One less thing for you to worry about."
Squeezing your backside, you squeak quietly while Sammy chuckles and heads back to the bathroom to wash up.
It's always the little things that she would've never even dreamed of considering which repeatedly confirms that he made such a great fucking choice in his second spouse. Like a carefully folded pile of clothes waiting on the edge of the bed for him to change into after bathing.
Happy wife, happy life indeed.
While Sammy is all too happy to be chowing down on a heaping plate of steaming hot wings, and sipping from a cold bottle of beer in-between hearty bites after suffering through a grueling day amongst the crime-riddled streets of LA, he's acutely aware of how quiet you are tonight.
Maybe the grocery shopping should've waited until he could make a trip out this weekend instead. You already do so much. What, with cooking and cleaning and growing his baby in your womb...
Tacking on a trip to Sam's Club was a task that should've been placed on his calendar instead, he thinks.
When it came to Tammi, what he wanted mattered little, if at all. But he fears with you—since you never tell him no—that you somehow feel obligated to meet his every demand because he's the breadwinner in the relationship.
You even went so far as to encourage him to sign a prenup incase he "decided he made a huge mistake" and "wanted to undo it with no financial fallout."
Sammy refused to allow papers to be put between you, though. Not a single one.
No way in hell, because he was sure this time.
He just hopes that you don't feel...trapped.
Are you happy? Do you feel safe, loved, protected, and appreciated? Worshipped?
He nudges your socked foot beneath the round wooden dining table you're both seated at, and smiles when you look at him. "You okay, baby?"
You nod and nibble on a piece of chopped celery that's drenched in ranch. "Just tired."
Sam's well of worry deepens.
"Alright," Sammy groans while dragging you into his lap now that you're both in bed. "You gonna finally tell me what's been on your mind all evening?"
Your eyes flit to his and he immediately takes note of the look of hesitation he finds within.
Curling your fingers against the warm, freckled skin of his bare chest, you worry your lower lip between your teeth.
"Is it...somethin' I did?" he questions warily. "Are you—"
"No," you state softly while cupping his stubbled cheek tenderly in your hand. "It was something that happened at the store. I planned to tell you. I just... Wanted you to be fully settled in for the night before I did."
Gripping either of your hips, he leans back against the fluffed pillow behind him. "I'm all ears, angel."
"So..." you begin while resting a hand over his shoulder. "I was done shopping and went into the baby aisle to browse for a bit before I checked out. And..." you sigh exhaustedly. "Tammi was there."
He sits up the least bit straighter.
"Nothing happened, though," you swiftly reassure. "Apart from a verbal confrontation."
"Tell me," he insists.
"I felt like I was being stared at. Turned out I was right when I looked over my shoulder. There was a moment of recognition, which she commented on: Good, you know who I am," you relay in a snide voice meant to mimic her own. "I told her that I've seen photos. When she saw that I was pregnant, she sort of flew off the handle. Started screaming that I was a whore who stole her husband from her and destroyed her life. That I was a homewrecker, a slut..."
You shake your head while blinking back unbidden tears.
"Thankfully, an employee was nearby. He broke it up and threatened to call security on her if she didn't leave. Her being forced out of the store when she wasn't done shopping only set her off further. She was yelling the whole way out the door."
He squeezes his eyes shut to force down a broiling torrent of pent-up rage. "I'm so sorry, honey." Opening his eyes again, Sammy cups your shoulder—adjusting the strap of your nightgown where it's slipped down your arm. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I had food to get home and put away. If I did, I knew you would've come running." You chew your cheek. "Or you would've made things worse by having it out with her in the parking lot."
"This bitch..." he murmurs. "Sometimes I feel like no matter what I do, I'll never be rid of her."
"I wanted to tell her that it wasn't what she thought. That you and I never had an affair, but—"
"Not entirely true," he interrupts. "No, we never screwed before my marriage was dissolved, but there was definitely emotions being exchanged."
You rest a hand atop your belly. You've tried to give her grace; understanding in her numerous issues. But you think you've finally reached the end of your rope with it all.
No wonder he was so eager to have you instead after all the bull she put him through. She nearly made a monster out of a good man, but you've done your wifely duty and healed his troubled heart.
"Cunt," you whisper.
Sammy barks a laugh and leans forward. "I'm sorry, did my perfect little do-gooder wife just say what I think she did?" he inquires with an amused, toothy grin.
You study him from beneath hooded lids while smirking salaciously. "She never deserved you," you continue. "I'm the better woman."
Now it all comes out, he thinks with satisfaction.
"Yes you are," he rumbles while cupping your ass cheeks in both his hands and kneading the plump skin. "In every way."
"Mhm," you hum while slowly nodding. "Actually know how to keep house," you add. "I have dinner on the table every night, and I spend your hard-earned money wisely. Except for when you spoil me," you murmur with a shrug while grinding down against his semi-erect cock. "I do whatever you tell me to like a good girl."
"Shit," Sammy rasps while throwing his head back.
"I'm thankful for the home you've provided, and all the nice things you give me," you continue while leaning forward and trailing soft kisses along his chin. "I'm so lucky to have such a good man who gave me his last name. Who's put his baby inside me where it belongs."
His cock stirs against your thinly-clothed pussy.
"Let me help you relax after such a long, hard day," you mutter while tugging off your nightgown.
Lying on your back in the middle of the bed, Sammy is resting back on his haunches while continually sliding his swollen, twitching cock between your shimmering lips.
Gripping the velvety shaft firmly in your fist, you plant a wet kiss atop the oozing mushroom tip before circling it lazily with your drooling tongue.
"Fuck, such a good girl for me," he utters.
You open wide, and Sammy eases his erection into the back of your throat. Cradling the base of your scalp in his palm, he rocks his hips and moans when you eagerly swallow what he gives you, just like always.
"You're right," he whispers while gazing down at you with unabashed adoration. "Better in every fuckin' way."
Gagging happily on his hard length, your eyes flutter closed when your husband sinks two calloused fingers between your slick, fluttering walls.
just had the realization that real bobby shrinks and gets overwhelmed by his feelings for companion while better bobby embraces the fuck out of them.....
something something i watched you have everything i want and do nothing with it.
something something you had her in the sunlight and i only get fluorescent and i am still doing more with it than you ever did.
something something you flinch from your own feelings like they’re a wound and i only flinch from how much more i want.
something something she learned to expect silence and i filled every hallway with humming.
something something you were afraid that loving her too much would make you weak and i am the most powerful thing in this place and i curl around her like a cat and purr.
something something your vulnerability was right there the whole time and you buried it and i dug it up and wore it like skin.
something something i’m the version of you that isn’t afraid to need her.
something something i’m the version of you that holds on instead of letting go.
something something you made her believe love was something that runs out and i am proving her wrong with these hands i stole from you to use them for better things
something something i’ll be better than you by being the thing you couldn’t be. something something i’m the vulnerability you lacked that pushed her away. something something i learned tenderness from watching you fail at it and i will not make your mistakes. i will not make any of your mistakes. i am better. it’s in the name.
well 🧍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.
cannot explain it but there’s something SO BB in the real world about this Finn pic. Because he somehow looks exactly like himself and also nothing like himself?
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