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cheriladycl01 · 8 months ago

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My boyfriend the Bad Guy- Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Plot: Oscar surprises you in a class that you’re covering for on a day before a race weekend.

“Okay guys so Mrs Copani won’t be here for the rest of term, but that means I get to teach you guys all about … the rainforest!” You exclaim to the young children in your class. You were currently covering for a school in your district whose teacher went on maternity leave, it was your first job as a teacher rather than a teaching assistant because you were so young.

“Now, this project will be very fun! We’re going to do lots of arts and crafts and at the end of term Headmaster Kelvin has organised a trip” you tell them excitedly and they all start chatting!

“We’re going to a rainforest!” One of them exclaims.

“My mum says they’re a long way from us!” Another chips in.

“Are we going far for this trip?” Another asks a little confused.

“Okay okay settle down! Now you’ll learn that Chloe is right and that there aren’t any rainforests near us. The closest one would be Africa, and I can’t take you guys all the way there … but in the UK we have a place where they have these biome pods called the Eden Project so we’re going to take you there” you explain and they all nod.

“Okay so let’s start on some facts about the rainforest. Does anyone know anything about the rainforest that they can tell me!” You ask.

“It rains a lot!” Dylan shouts and you nod.

“That’s right! It’s helps that its in the name right? But rainforests have a lot of warm humid rain all year round. 79-394 inches. High for comparison is about the height of a tree!” You exclaim and gaze round seeing the fascinated look on all the kids faces.

That was your favourite part of teaching!

“And when you look at a rainforest … like this one” you say getting up a picture of one of the interactive whiteboard. “What do you see!” You ask looking around the classroom.

“Lots or Green” AJ shouts and everyone agrees.

“Mmmmm that’s very true. And what is all that greenery, some of you might have them in your garden at home! We have some in the gardens here and Miss Y/L/N has a few on her classroom windowsill” you offer helpfully, a girl raises her hand.

“Gabby?”

“Plants Miss!” She squeals and you nod with a smile on your face.

“Very good! Now the rainforest is very important as even though only 10% of earth is made up of rainforests … it has the most plants and animals there which helps us” you smile.

“Why miss?” Connor calls out and you smile.

“The trees around us, even the ones here release something out of them that go into our atmosphere and it turn it helps us breath. That’s why trees are so important and it’s why when we use paper, we always ….” You pause waiting for them to finish your common phrase.

“Recycle it” they all giggle and you nod.

“That’s right!” You smile at them all.

“Okay now when you all have a cold what does you mum and dad give you to make you feel all better?” You ask walking around the room.

“Matt” you say seeing the boys hand raised.

“Medicine!” He cries out in joy.

“Lots of those medicines come from the rainforest, that’s why it’s important we preserve it!” You teach them, you could never be to young to teach about protecting the planet.

“What’s preserve?” One of them asks with their head cocked to the side.

“Hmmmm that’s a difficult word to describe. Okay so let’s pretend you guys are … the Avengers” you grin and they all gasp happily.

“I wanna be Captain America”

“I’ll be Thor”

“I want to be Black Panther”

“I’m Kate Bishop”

“Okay okay you can all be whoever you want! But you guys need to protect the environment from all the bad people out there!” You grin, knowing this was all just a bit of fun but still educating them on what’s important.

“Who are the bad people” one of them asks, just before a knock is heard on the classroom door. You look to the left seeing Oscar there watching you with a soft smile on his face. You hop up from your desk walking over to the door.

“Here is one of the villains you have to defeat” you say as you open the door to your boyfriend.

“He’s a bad guy!” One of the girls ask, and you know you’ve just potentially started her obsession with always crushing on the villains in future movies and books she watch.

“But Miss that’s your boyfriend” they all giggle at this and you grin too, Oscar just standing there confused as to why you’re now all of a sudden calling him a bad guy.

“Mmmm and why am I a bad guy?” He asks looking at you with his polite cat smile.

“Who knows what Oscar does for a living, do any of you like Cars?” You ask and they all gasp.

“Miss miss I know I know!” Ollie cries out.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“He drives race cars!” He says on his knees rocking back and forth.

“He does! And he travels all over the world to do it, meaning he doesn’t help the environment, he does the opposite!” You say knowing just how astronomically high your boyfriends carbon footprint was.

The kids then all started to ask Oscar questions about racing, many of them being Lightening McQueen related.

Eventually it was the end of the school day, Oscar kindly helped you pack up the classroom before leading you out to the car park where his McLaren was parked.

“Thank you for coming to get me baby” you smile and he takes your hand guiding it to the gearstick so he can keep a hold of you while he’s there.

“You’re welcome! How was your first fall day teaching them on your own?” He smiles rubbing his thumb along your hand.

“It was really good, we’re starting a rainforest project and so we’re going to make loads of charts for the board I created and at the end of term we’ve got a trip organised!” You explain and he can’t help but grin at how excited you seem.

“Woah, that’s really cool! Do you still think that you’ll be able to come this weekend?” He asks knowing that where you taught Monday to Thursday you had the perfect opportunity to spend GP weekends with him.

“Of course I am baby, I have my flight booked for Thursday night, I’ll get there Friday Morning” you admit and he smiles bringing your hand up of the gearstick and in front of him mouth. He kisses it lightly.

“So where are we going, this isn’t the way home” you ask once you notice your on a different main road.

“Somewhere Lando showed me, I wanted to take you there. I think you’ll really like it” he explains and you nod.

Eventually you come up to a little park, he takes a rucksack from the boot, taking your hand and walking through the afternoon sun with you to the edge of a large pond, that had a wooden bridge going over the middle of it.

“Wow this is gorgeous” you exclaim looking at the surroundings before taking some pictures. You get one of yours and Oscars feet and then a selfie of you guys with the lake in the background.

“I love this, it’s so peaceful” you breathe out a relaxing breath. You and Oscar walk and talk, both having a busy schedule ment that moments like these you could yap to each others hearts content.

He eventually started to lay out a blanket, it was getting a little cooler as the sun got lower and lower in the spring afternoon.

“I brought some wine, and some cheese and grapes. I know you’ve been wanting to go out for a while with the girls but you haven’t had time… so I brought girls night too you” he smiles sheepishly hating how busy both your lives were individually and with each other. You saw your friends maybe once a month at best, you were very lucky they were so understanding.

“I love you Osc” you say leaning into him, kissing his cheek, a blush forming across his nose.

“I love you too baby” he smiles.

You both sit on the blanket leaning into one another while continuing your previous conversation, and sharing chaste kisses every now and then, tasting the rich one on each others lips.

Intimate and personal time like this with Oscar would always be your favourite.

y/user

Liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

y/user: Oscar surprised me on my first day today and took me out afterwards on a date :) How sweet can he get!

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oscarpiastri: Love you ❤️

-> y/user: I love you more 🥺🌸❤️

ybff: omg you guys are so cute! Seeing you when?

-> y/user: soon for sure! After class coffee? Mrs Copani has gone for maternity leave so I’ll have this post for a while!

user: Billy raves about his new teacher in class today! Thank you for making it engaging!

-> user: I agree Madison came home with the biggest smile on her face today! Thank you Mrs Y/L/N

Instagram Story Caption:

First day on the job 🌸 Miss Y/L/N

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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ilium-ilia · 2 months ago

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In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Four: push him away

tw: violence, blood, vomit

Your life has become nothing but a game of numbers.

It’s a grueling game. One that deals in quantitative facts that reminds you of its indifference towards your feelings and needs as you scribble your thoughts and desperate math into your journal. You’ve gotten very good at mental math over the years. Between calculating hours, wages, taxes, overtime… Every day that you live is planned to perfection to make sure you can survive throughout the month. There isn’t a single pence not accounted for, nor pound that goes to waste.

After completing all your math—multiplication, division, subtraction, subtraction—you calculate the expenses you need to keep yourself alive. Paying your rent keeps you alive. Getting Marco his money on time keeps you alive. After everything, you are left with £79 in your checking account.

You draw an angry circle around your final number before tossing the journal back onto the mattress. How you’re going to pay for groceries is beyond you, let alone anything else this month. Your teeth nearly draw blood as you bite into your cheek at the thought of using your credit cards and the debt that’s already wracked up on them.

You work like a dog, just to live off of scraps.

A sigh dances between your lips as you give your hand a break from writing by tossing your pen next to your journal. You’ve been sitting in bed for what feels like hours. Crunching numbers, setting timelines—the effects begin to ravage your lower back and wrist with a pestilential ache that refuses to relent even as you rub it.

As your head rests against the wall behind you, you take a deep breath of the fresh air seeping through your open window. It’s always chilly in November, but you go insane being kooked up in the small confines of your studio apartment. Opening your window is the only bit of freedom you can pretend to have without having to put yourself in the eyes of the public. Your teeth sink into your lip as you glance back at your notepad.

Two weeks. That’s all you have left until the 25th.

A quiet curse cuts through the silence in your apartment as Simon’s knuckles scrape against the sink spout for what sounds like the tenth time this morning. Several parts lay dismantled and gutted on the counter next to him, along with a various assortment of tools. He scrubs the parts clean with a solvent that leaves the room smelling like vinegar, testing them bit by bit to ensure that they fit together better than they did before.

You hadn’t expected to need him so soon. At the very least, you wanted to wait to call him until you had a bit more money in the bank, but your sink seemed to destroy itself overnight. No longer a soft drip, it turned into a steady flow that gushed more water than you knew you could afford. When you sheepishly messaged him earlier in the morning, he left almost immediately in order to buy the right materials.

And now, here you are again, stuck with Simon Riley.

Bee’s words from the other night ring loudly in your mind. You sure know how to pull them. It’s laughable how she thinks you’re able to attract people as if Simon sees you as something more than a pathetic animal that doesn’t know how to care for herself. Though, you can’t exactly disagree with her. For all his rough edges, he’s an attractive man. Quiet, and polite—kinder than his appearance alone would have you believe. Still, that’s as far as you would ever go. Looking. Admiring from afar. Keeping your distance. Distance is good—it keeps you safe.

Keeps everyone safe.

Besides, you’re not sure if intimacy is something that’s meant for you. Every time you think of a hand on your waist or hot breath on your face, your body tenses so much you can feel it trying to rip itself to shreds. The thought of someone’s lips on yours makes you want to scream. The bile in your stomach starts to churn—it’s that hand. His hand. Sliding between your thighs, inside of your skirt, going up, and up—

“There we are.”

Simon’s voice yanks you out of your anamneses, violently snapping you back into the present. Swallowing, you pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as you slide out of your bed and tip toe into the kitchen behind him. Water no longer drips out of the spout, and it now sits as the shiniest item in your apartment. A smile pulls at your lips; you’re grateful to no longer have something quite literally siphoning your finances.

“Should be set now,” Simon explains as he cleans up the old, calcified hardware from your counter. He tosses the discarded metal into your trash where it falls with a heavy thunk. “Anythin’ else need fixing?”

“No, nothing else is broken, For now,” you say in an attempt at humor.

But there is one issue left: payment.

“Thank you again, Simon. I, uh, don’t really have the money to pay you for it, but I can… maybe comp another meal for you tonight, if you’d like?” you offer.

“It’s no problem,” Simon hums as he rinses his hands clean. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m workin’ tonight anyway.”

This… is not how the conversation is supposed to go. He seemed more than happy to accept free food last time, yet now he’s making it seem like you don’t need to pay him back at all. Of course you have to pay him back. That’s how the world works. It’s how everything works. You cannot take without giving—it’s an equal exchange.

If he doesn’t want anything from you now, he’s going to want something later.

“I can drop it off tonight at the club,” you insist, desperate to finally be rid of him. “I’m sure you get hungry at work, and I know for a fact the food there is terrible.”

Simon hums as he shakes his hands off. He borrows the kitchen towel hanging from the oven to dry his hands as he leans against the counter, tilting his head at you with a shrug. “The chips aren’t that bad.”

You look him up and down before raising an eyebrow. It’s a silent question—no, a protest—you know for a fact that a small serving of chips isn’t enough for a man his size.

“Text me what you want, and I’ll bring it after I’m off tonight,” you repeat, tone all but begging for him to accept.

Twilit eyes study you like you’re a specimen. Simon’s gaze feels like he’s pinning you to some examination board with your legs and arms splayed out. You’re on full display, chest and stomach waiting to be cut into—beating heart visible through your ribs. All he’s missing is the lab coat and scalpel to rip you open.

“Alright,” he finally concedes. “See you tonight, sweetheart.”

Work goes by fast. Too fast. It’s busy, which is to be expected of a Saturday, but this is outrageous. Between the takeout orders and the endless wave of patrons, it’s impossible for you to take any sort of breather. The aroma of fresh bread and cheeses soaks so deeply into the fabric of your being that you’re certain you’ll have to scrub yourself in the shower for hours in order to rid yourself of the scent. Worn shoes offer no support to your aching feet, and by the time you’re finally able to lock the door at midnight, you swear your heels are bleeding.

Really, you should be thanking the universe for this—a blessing in disguise. A busy day means busy hands, and busy hands mean you don’t have to think about the notification waiting for you on your phone, or the meal you’ll have to deliver soon.

Yet, your phone is the very first thing you reach for the moment you’re able to sit. One of the waiters sits huddled up in the booth across from you, rolling silverware for tomorrow’s service. The clinking hits too dull on your ears, but you ignore it as you unlock your phone.

Order whatever you want for tonight. Not picky. Come through the VIP entrance. I’ll wait for you.

Simon’s message came in a while ago. Just before eleven. He’s been waiting for nearly an hour and a half for you to respond, and it’ll be much later by the time you finally get it to him. Groaning, you cup your face in the palm of your hands. You should have waited until he had a day off so he could have come in rather than have you deliver—your need to push things out of the way is coming back to bite you in the ass.

sorry, it’s been a long night. should be there before one!

“Chip!”

Your eyes dart away from your phone just in time to see Bee waving at you from the kitchen entrance. Her ponytail is mussed from a night of busy service, yet her beauty is still effortless and captivating as large, sunflower-shaped earrings swing above her shoulders.

“Bruce is gonna close up soon. Want anything?” she calls.

“Uh, yeah. Just an order of capellini pomodoro. With chicken please!” you shout back.

Instead of answering you, she gives you a thumbs up where she shouts your order at the kitchen in Italian. Bruce’s sonorous voice yells back, followed by laughter.

It’s an easy meal. Something quick. Your usual go-to dish whenever Bruce demands that you let him feed you, which is quite often. You swear he has some sort of sixth sense that can detect when you’re trying to skip meals to save cash.

A sharp buzz from your phone pulls your attention back down to your lap. Its screen illuminates with the preview of Simon’s response.

Take your time, sweetheart.

“Christ…” you mumble to yourself.

You wish he wasn’t so kind. It would be easier to push him away if he was as cruel as everything else in your life is.

It’s an awkward ride on the bus. Warmth seeps into your lap through the thin, styrofoam takeout box that holds Simon’s dinner as the world passes by you in a blur through shiny windows. There are two other women on the bus with you—you feel guilty for being grateful at the lack of men. Everyone avoids eye contact with one another as a woman in scrubs types away furiously at her phone, and a woman who looks two seconds away from puking rests her head against the cold window.

All three of you exist simultaneously, yet so separate from one another. For once, a part of you is glad that you’re not alone.

You lugubriously exit the bus as it comes to your stop and stare at the intimidating building a few meters down. While the inside is lit plenty well, you can’t say the same thing for the outside. Shrouded in a thick numbra, lights can hardly cut through the darkness far enough to properly illuminate the pavement in front of the main entrance. You feel your muscles begin to twitch. It’s one thing coming to Terminus when you have Aelin dragging you around, but it’s something else entirely when you know you’ll have to navigate the area all by yourself.

Styrofoam squeaks as you grip the box in your hand and traverse down the frigid pavement. The air cuts right through your work clothes, and not even zipping your jumper offers any reprieve. You find comfort in knowing it’s a short walk—the bouncers hanging around the front entrance are already within sight.

“Excuse me!” you call.

The duo of men crowded at the entrance seem to be in the middle of a smoke break when you interrupt them, and they look at you with narrowed, unentertained eyes. They stand at the top of the steps leading up to the entrance, making you feel impossibly small as they scrutinize you. You’re just some bug on the pavement.

“I’m, uh, looking for the VIP entrance? I’m supposed to meet Simon?” you say.

“You askin’ or tellin’ us?” one of the men barks over the cigarette stuck between his teeth.

Every word you speak is so fragile you feel them shatter on the ground at your feet. You’re beginning to second guess asking for help. Twitchy fingers yearn to reach for your phone—calling him would have been easier. No, you just need to grit your teeth and bare it. Once this is done, you don’t owe him anymore, and you’ll never have to see him again.

“Sorry,” you try again. “It’s just that, I’m supposed to bring Simon dinner tonight, I just need help finding the entrance.”

“Sorry love, dunno a Simon.”

You raise an eyebrow at the man as your confusion strangles out the anxiety gripping your chest. “Doesn’t he… like, work security with you?”

The other man slaps the smoker on the arm—something playful and childish—before he rolls his eyes. “She’s talking about Riley you pillock.”

Terrible realization washes over the smoker’s face, and he quickly flicks his cigarette onto the ground. It sputters and dies in a little wisp underneath the sole of his boot.

“Shit, of course,” he says, a silent apology soaking his words. He points a finger toward your right, guiding you along the darkness of the building. “VIP entrance, yeah? Just head that way and make a left before the alleyway.”

It’s not the easiest set of instructions to follow, but you don’t dare ask for clarification. Instead, you mutter a quiet thanks and goodnight before trudging down the pavement. The only thing keeping you warm is the food in your hands, but the night air is sapping its heat faster than you had anticipated. You try not to think about it too heavily as the main lights of the building grow more faint with each step.

Just as instructed, you make a left turn into the area you assume is the VIP entrance, yet you very quickly find yourself in the alley you were told to turn before. It’s a simple fix. Turn around, backtrack, and find the right turn—but it’s not. Acrid air begins to choke you with thin fingers that grip your throat without remorse. Your diaphragm tenses, solid as a rock; it refuses to loosen and allow you to draw breath. You’re frozen—stuck in time at the entrance of some grimy alley as two men converse with one another where they pass notes and cash between one another beneath the adust halogen lights.

Dirty business. Something that stains your skin and festers until you’re just as sordid. Your tongue goes dry as if someone’s shoved your mouth full of cotton, and it only worsens when you realize that you recognize one of the men. It’s difficult not to with his brown undercut and stony eyes nestled beneath rigid brows. Trembling fingers dig into the takeout box in your hands as your mind is plagued with the fluttering idea to flee, but it’s too late. His blue eyes have already found you in the darkness with a fire that illuminates your body like a spotlight.

He always looks angry—determined—with harsh features and tense lips. Yet, as he stares at you, he appears almost relieved.

Like he had been looking for you.

You swallow the lump in your throat as this man mutters something to his friend. The stranger looks back and forth between you and the man before quickly departing, shoulder brushing against yours as he passes by. Heavy feet stomp against the stone floor of the alleyway as you’re approached by this monster of a man. You tell yourself to look away, but you can’t.

You know better than to look away from Andrei when his hands are in his pockets.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, stopping just close enough to crowd your space, but not so much that you step back.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as you attempt to choke out the words to respond to him. “I’m… delivering food.”

Andrei looks over his shoulder. The tenebrous alleyway stares back at both of you with nothing to show but noisome garbage bins. “To who? The rats?”

“I made a wrong turn,” you answer honestly.

He chuckles, but it’s flat. There’s no amusement behind it, just macabre curiosity. You’re nothing but a creature—one he can’t wait to cut into.

“You’re always getting lost, aren’t you?” he questions. It’s not something he expects an answer for, and you know it, so you stay silent as he leans closer as if ready to tell you a secret. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You’re very aware of this fact. You knew as much the moment you laid eyes on him.

“I’ll just… drop this off and go. I’ll go straight home, I swear,” you attempt to plead.

“Dangerous men here. Lots of them,” Andrei continues as if you never said anything in the first place. “You’d do well to keep your distance. I know you like getting caught up in bad business, but this isn’t something you want to get stuck in. I can promise you that much. I mean it. Stay the fuck away from this place. I don’t want to catch you here again.”

“Chip?”

Simon’s voice bounces off the brick walls around you, rattling you to the point you swear your knees will give out. You’re unsure if you should feel relieved or terrified that he found you. A twitch in your neck urges you to look over your shoulder, but you stop when you see Andrei is already staring at him. The corners of his lips twist downward.

“Need something?” Andrei asks, bored.

“Yeah,” Simon responds. Gravel and sand crunches behind you, and you flinch as you feel a warm hand bleed through your jumper as he squeezes your shoulder. “I need you to fuck off.”

Amused, Andrei tilts his head to one side. Simon is significantly taller than him, yet he doesn’t seem intimidated at all. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here, friend,” he warns.

“I said fuck off,” Simon deadpans. “I don’t need some mangy cunt sniffin’ around here. Creepy little shit, you are. What? Need me to repeat myself?”

There’s no time to warn Simon about the war he’s started with those words. Rage boils in Andrei’s eyes with a heat so violent you can feel it in his hands as he shoves you to the side.

The takeout box slips out of your palms just in time for you to catch your fall. Soft flesh collides with jagged rocks and broken glass, but the adrenaline pumping through your system numbs the pain in your palms and knees. Angel hair pasta litters the ground around you, and the mouthwatering scent of Simon’s would-be meal becomes stomach churning. A strained sob escapes your mouth as you try and steady yourself to keep your body from toppling over onto the ground.

All you wanted to do was drop off the meal and go home.

It takes an eternity for you to push yourself to your feet, and even then you nearly fall back to the ground. Mind spinning, your weary eyes can hardly make sense of your shredded palms and the blood that trickles from small lacerations. Shock grips you like a vice, forcing your body to shiver as it pumps your muscles with enough adrenaline to stop your heart.

When you turn around, the tinnitus in your ears suddenly roars louder than anything else around you as you witness the fight before you. Blood gushes from the side of Andrei’s head and his nose. It dribbles down his chin until it leaves dainty stains on the white cotton of his shirt. He leans against the wall for support while staring daggers at Simon, who stands between the two of you like a human meatshield. A physical barrier to keep Andrei from you. Still, it isn’t enough to hide the unmistakable glint of the knife in his hand.

It hits you all at once. The blood. How it spills freely from a stomach, ruining fresh upholstery. You wonder how many other lives that knife has taken. That cruel, curved blade that taunts you as Andrei folds it up and shoves it back into his pocket. Pale eyes land on you in a warning as he wipes his face on the back of his hand, smearing blood across the flushed color of his cheeks. He doesn’t have to say his caveat out loud for you to know what he wishes to say.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re next.

You catch the tail end of Andrei’s retreat before your stomach begins to bubble. Turning around, you hardly have enough time to brace your sore hands against the wall before rancid bile stings the back of your throat. You puke. Vile liquid sloshes on the ground. There’s hardly anything inside of you to get rid of; just the consumed remnants of your brunch from hours ago. You try to keep it down, but you’re overwhelmed by the way your muscles contract, contorting your body uncomfortably as you expel the only bit of sustenance you were able to eat that day.

Simon’s hand rests on your hunched back, but you can’t get yourself to face him as your stomach quivers and protests. He whispers something on your left—something too muffled for you to hear. It can’t reach you. Everything is disconnected. Nothing but frayed wires and nerves. Shuttering breaths. Cold blood. Trembling hands. Rocks sticking out of flesh.

Then, there’s nicotine. It’s faint; something that haunts the fabric of Simon’s shirt as he pulls you close. You’re not sure if he holds you to offer you comfort, or to keep your shaking legs from collapsing. You decide that you don’t care why he does it—either way, you’re grateful for it. You focus on the smell of him—old smoke mixed with something clean, like cotton—as well as his warmth as he keeps you tucked close to his side. It does nothing to stave off the panic ravaging your chest, but it’s enough for now.

“C’mon, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Simon urges. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

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#ilium writing #sr ilia #in limbo #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader

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hollyhomburg · 4 months ago

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Before I Leave you (Pt. 79)

(Sneak peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: It's Hoseok's turn to breed you through your heat, but Namjoon won't let him have it easily.

Tags: Heat sex, knotting, group sex, Sub! m/c, Dom! Namjoon, Sub! Hobi, d/s, threesome, comparing knots, Cumplay, size kink, big dick Namjoon, womb fucking, belly bulge, slight inflation kink, breeding kink, clit torture if you squint, overstimulation, voyeurism, squirting, messiness kink, inspection kink, humiliation kink, implied cuckolding, very brief human furniture, implied puppy play, puppy space Hobi, collars, dominance displays, porn without plot,

W/c: 10.7k

A/n: ahhhhh here it is <3 the second part of last chapter that i split last minute <3 more filth but at least it's hobi filth <3 keep your eyes wide open on the ending! this one is a bit of a cliffhanger <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Namjoon leans down, pressing a kiss to your nape. Meanly pressing in further, harder. You are so hot inside, the heat fever tearing through you now that you have a little food in your stomach and more energy to burn. Warm and wet and tight. Your eyes roll back and Hobi can do nothing but watch.

But Namjoon's pace stutters. It's understandable. This is the 5th knot he’s given you in as many hours. It's sometime after mid-morning and it's been probably around 30 hours since he's slept at all. Namjoon's only human. Even the pack alpha can't last forever.

Hoseok's honestly a little surprised that Namjoon hasn't tapped out yet, that his knot isn't ready to fall off.

But Hoseok watches his pace falter and Hoseok's lip lifts. It's an instinct to growl. Namjoon spies it, hackles raising.

Alpha instincts are a peculiar thing.

“You think you could do better?” Namjoon taunts, a little playfully. Arms bulging as he holds himself up, trusting harder into you. Almost in retaliation. Hobi blushes and looks away, successfully chastised.

Hoseok shouldn't be intimidated, Namjoon might be the pack alpha, but Hobi has still seen him put his shoes on the wrong feet before and leave the house- too many times to count.

The growl comes out of his mouth before he thinks better about it.

Namjoon stops moving.

Hobi clamps a hand over his mouth in surprise and the snarl becomes a whine. “Yes! No! Maybe- I think I-.” Hobi hovers unsure, bashful at being caught snarling at the pack alpha. Across the nest Jin lifts his head, woken up by it, hair all fluffy.

Namjoon is not one to let this kind of thing slide especially not during a heat.

Namjoon slides out of you, long and hard and hot. You whimper. You don't like feeling empty. You try to push back on him but are stopped by a hand pressed blank your pussy, Namjoon's fingers brushing your hole, fucked open and messy. Gaping just a little and dripping a pretty spiderweb like strand of cum down onto the nest.

You whine. Loud and grating. Hoseok's instincts make him want to gnash his teeth. It sets him on edge. Across the nest, Yoongi turns, distracted from his task of trying to convince Jungkook to suck on a straw instead of trying to suck on his dick. Alarmed at the sound of your whine and the desperation in it.

“Alright alright, calm down,” Namjoon says, kind of laughing through it, kind of high. Namjoon is the picture of restraint- he's not a knothead. He's not like Hobi. He doesn't snarl and push and fight at another alpha challenging him- No.

Namjoon looks at Hobi, a mean glint in his eye. Namjoon can get a little scary when he's got something to prove, even scarier when he's got a job to do.

Your collar is there by the edge of the nest, taken out when Jimin put on his, black with a golden puppy tag, the twin to Hobi's red one. Your pink one is showing its wear. It's worn at the hole in the buckle, the one that fits you nice and loose. Perfect as a handhold.

Namjoon points and Hobi gets it before he's even registered that he's following a nonverbal order. Flushing as he takes off the bell and then tries to hand it over.

But Namjoon just eyes your throat expectantly.

Making one sub-collar another is- well-

Hobi's hands stutter, shaky with anticipation as he tries to fit it around your throat. It takes him several tries to get it latched properly. Namjoon’s cock twitches as Hobi looks up for his approval. You push into his hands, purring loudly. No longer displeased at not being filled if you can teeth at the scent gland on his wrist.

Namjoon pulls back and away from you. Heavy cock throbbing and pulsing dully. There is a bit of whiteness, leftover cum, that covers Namjoon’s cock. Milky at the tip and pink. your pussy lips are also red and a bit inflamed from the ceaseless friction of his balls flopping forward and hitting where you’re sensitive. namjoon pries you open with two fingers, showing hoseok that you’re already so wet on the inside, full of Yoongi and Jimin's and Tae’s cum not just Namjoon's.

But not Hobi's, not yet. Namjoon should fix that.

Namjoon lets you go and reaches for Hobi's collar and puts it on him with out a word. so deep down in alpha space that even his teasing goes quiet. He tests the give of the collar, pulling hoseok this way and that until he’s satisfied with it. Hoseok whines at being pushed around, tugged almost until he falls over, but he lets Namjoon do it. Obedient.

Namjoon pulls him over to where he sits behind you, almost between your legs.

Namjoon palms blatantly between your legs checking with a dimply smile to make sure Hobi's watching. You mewl. But Namjoon just grins at Hobi. His fingers still hooked in his collar.

You mewl loudly and Namjoon puts his fingers back where you want them. His words summoned at last. "Oh don't be a brat, alpha's right here pup."

Hoseok's cock twitches at being manhandled, especially when Namjoon slides that hand down Hobi's midline, feeling him up and Hoseok lets him. Hoseok would let Namjoon do anything. he doesn't even flinch or growl when Namjoon pushes his thigh apart and pushes down his boxers. Palming his cock, examining him. Wrapping his big hands around it and testing where his knot will form. where it's already half popped. Rubbing at the sensitive skin and slight bulge with talented fingers that have Hobi panting in seconds.

It gives Hobi no small amount of pride that his hand does not cover all of Hobi's cock. He's still sizable. Hoseok's scent fluffs out a little stronger at that.

Namjoon has one hand in you, hooked into your hole to soothe you, and the other wrapped around Hobi's cock. he has both of his pups, right where he wants them. He tugs at Hobi's cock once, twice.

“Show me then, show the pack alpha that you know to breed.”

Coming Saturday December 28th @ 5pm EST (time Zone Adjustments Below)

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etclouie · 4 months ago

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possibly for your celebration could i get 72 and 79 with mattheo please

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; 72) “you’re not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?” and 79) “i wish you’d give me a chance” — from 100 dialogue prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; mattheo x best friend!reader, secret pining, matt kisses reader, reader uses mattheo and matty interchangeably, that’s it i think

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; if this is horribly ooc, mbmb

— thank you for celebrating 600 with me || submissions are now closed

the castles corridors were eerily quiet as you walked side by side with your best friend, Mattheo. the castle had its usual charm but tonight it felt different.

there was an air of tension that neither of you could ignore.

Mattheo’s usual smirk was absent and was replaced by something softer, more contemplative, though he still held that same dangerous allure.

you felt the weight of his gaze on you as you passed through the hallways, your heart racing slightly faster than it usually did but you ignored it. you had more important things to focus on, like your upcoming exam.

“so,”

Mattheo broke the silence between you, his voice a mix of amusement and something you could t quite place.

“are you actually going to study for that potions exam, or should i just plan to carry you through it?”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow as you continued walking.

“i can handle it, thanks. i don’t need a babysitter”

he barked out a laugh before he grinned, flashing you a ‘really?’ look.

you’d stopped to turn to him, rolling your eyes as you caught the look on his face. crossing your arms over your chest as he spoke.

“that’s what they all say, but you’ll be begging for my help when you fail”

he teased, which pulled a huff from you before you laughed alongside him. Mattheo always knew how to make you laugh, even on the worst days.

“more like you’ll be begging for my help when you fail”

you countered, and his lips tugged into a frown momentarily. as much as he hated to admit it, you were right. potions wasn’t exactly his strongest suit.

as you rounded a corner, the two of you slowed. something in the air had shifted and you noticed the change before he said anything.

Mattheo’s usual smirk was long gone now, replaced by something serious. his posture stiffened, and his eyes met yours with an intensity that was unfamiliar.

“Matty?”

you asked, using his nickname but being unable to mask the unease creeping into your voice.

“there’s something i’ve been wanting to talk to you about”

his voice was low, hesitant even. a stark contrast to his usual cocky confidence which made you frown.

you knew it had to be something really serious for him to have no cockiness about him.

“what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer immediately, instead he stepped closer. his gaze locked onto your lips made your heart skip a beat, and instinctively you took a step back.

“Mattheo?”

you used his full name this time, in an attempt to get words out of him. but before you could process what was happening, he closed the gap between you.

his hand reached up to your face, cradling your jaw and absentmindedly running his thumb across your cheek.

“Mattheo, what—“

his lips pressed against yours in a swift unexpected kiss, effectively cutting you off mid sentence.

you froze, every muscle in your body locking up. it wasn’t a friendly kiss, not in the slightest. it was something else entirely— a kiss full of intent, and you could feel it. as if every ounce of tension he had been carrying had poured into that single moment.

when he pulled away, his face stayed inches from yours and his breath was warm against your skin.

you stared at him wide eyed, trying to process what had just happened.

“wait, hold on—“

you sputtered, backing up a few steps but he followed again. you kept backing up until your back hit the wall, Mattheo staying a hairs width away.

“you’re not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?”

Mattheo’s lips curled into a half smirk, but his eyes weren’t mocking. they were vulnerable..

“no”

he murmured, face staying inches from yours and his eyes searching yours.

“not friendly. but i didn’t want to just tell you, i needed to show you”

your mind was spinning. the reality of the situation something akin to overwhelming.

Mattheo Riddle — the same Mattheo who had always been the mysterious and somewhat unpredictable bad boy of Slytherin house — had just kissed you.

and it wasn’t some quick, meaningless gesture.

it wasn’t like the various flings and one night stands he’d told you all about, much to your dismay.

it had been a kiss that made your pulse race and your heart skip.

“why didn’t you just tell me?”

you managed to ask, your voice shaky as you continued. voice dropping to a barely audible whisper.

“why now?”

Mattheo sighed, his expression softening even more.

his left hand braced himself on the wall by your head, while the other cradled your face again. thumb drawing languid strokes across your cheek.

“i’ve been trying to figure out the right time for ages, but there’s never been one. you’re my best friend. i’ve been hiding this from you and it’s been driving me insane”

he said in one breath, exhaling as the last word slipped before he sighed.

his eyes even softer than before, his whole demeanour different. he seemed something akin to shy, though he’d never admit to it.

“i wish you’d give me a chance”

your breath hitched. you looked up at him, struggling to find words to make sense of it all.

it wasn’t that you didn’t care about him. of course you did, you always had. but the idea of shifting your entire relationship, of risking everything you’d built over the years—it scared you.

“i don’t know what to say Matty”

you admitted, looking away and staring at the ground trying to sort through your jumbled thoughts.

his hand holding your face tilted your gaze back up to him, his eyes pleading as they met yours.

“you don’t have to say anything now. i just.. i need you to know how i feel, i wish you’d give me a chance”

you swallowed hard.

could you really take that step? could you allow yourself to risk everything for a chance at something that could be so much more?

your eyes stayed locked with his, the same glint as before swimming around in his eyes and it made you realise one thing. you’d never seen him this open or this vulnerable.

the Mattheo you knew was always guarded, always playing some game. but now, it was just him — bare and raw — and something inside you shifted.

“i don’t know what’ll happen Mattheo,”

you whispered, voice quieter than you had intended it to be.

“but i’ll think about it”

Mattheo’s face lit up with a rare, genuine smile— his relief palpable.

“that’s all i’m asking for. just a chance, that’s all i need”

he said softly, and you believed him.

for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel the need to run from him. you didn’t need the answers right away, but maybe just maybe, it was time to give him that chance.

as you both stood there, the weight of the moment sinking in, you could almost hear the unspoken promise between you.

this was only the beginning.

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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eclec-tech · 1 month ago

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🖤 Shiny spotted at GAR Goth Night! 🖤

Plus, someone seems to have left a rather interesting message in the ALT text for @wings-and-beskargam and @eobe's collaborative art of CT-9075. Interesting...

Want to know how a shiny in white ended up at 79's GAR Goth Night? Read his story below or the entire fic on AO3!

Ask any commander about shinies fresh from Kamino, and they’ll all say the same thing: The first thing they do is wear themselves out from excitement.

That was certainly true of the latest batch of newbies who had just landed on Coruscant this evening. Every one of them left Wild Space with enough adrenaline in his veins to power the Venator he arrived on. But traveling from the edge of the galaxy to its center isn’t a short trip. By the time they arrived, the group of newly graduated troopers had gone from wanting to show the galaxy what they were made of to wanting someone to show them where their barracks were.

However, there’s always that one trooper…

That shiny stood with his arms folded as he stared his brothers down. “Seriously? None of you want to come?”

“I’m tired,” one of them said simply, plopping down on his bunk.

“We get our assignments tomorrow,” another reminded him. “No way I’m meeting my new CO with red eyes.”

“But it’s 79’s! Our new commanders might even BE there!” the shiny reasoned excitedly.

“As of tomorrow, we’re Coruscant Guard. Don’t you think we’ll be seeing a lot of 79’s?”

The eager shiny sighed. He wasn’t going to win this one. “Fine. You can all be good little tubies and sleep tonight. I’m going to 79’s to finally see what it’s all about!”

“Have fun,” one waved without looking up. “Don’t do anything to get yourself arrested.”

“Yeah, that’d be awkward,” another added with a laugh.

“But it would be a great way to see the inside of HQ before the rest of us. Maybe that’s his plan.”

“Maybe I’ll be invited there by one of our commanders,” the shiny teased as he slid on his new, gleaming white helmet. “Or maybe I’ll go home with some hot civ.”

“If you get that lucky tonight,” the first trooper said with a smirk, “I’ll polish your helmet with my tongue.”

“Ugh. Good incentive not to then.” The shiny waved over his shoulder as he left the others to their rest. “Sweet dreams, little tube-lings!”

----------

CT-9075 was easily the most energetic of his batch. He was also incredibly observant and made connections others often missed. His near perfect marks in all aptitude tests involving deductive reasoning made him a prime candidate for the Coruscant Guard—not that they ever let him know that. The last thing the trainers on Kamino needed was to stoke the fire of a promising cadet’s ego.

Trooper 9075’s boundless energy wouldn’t let him rest as he should have done. It was his first night ever on another planet, and he wasn’t about to waste it. He had heard stories about 79’s, usually as he was listening in on the conversations of older troopers who didn’t know they were being spied on—stories of drinking, dancing, card games, and beautiful people who weren’t clones. He needed to see this wonder of the universe now.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he approached the doors, its tempo almost matching the thrum of the music within. He was glad he had his bucket on to reflect the orange light flooding down from above. He was certain he had a silly, “fresh off the meiloorun truck” grin on his face just from being at the entrance to the bar he had heard so much about, and he was glad he could hide it.

That grin faded to a nervous frown as soon as he walked in.

There had been people blocking part of the entrance, and though he could see the upper corner of a notice on the door, he hadn’t had a clear line of sight to read it. Now that he was inside, he turned around to read it through the other side of the transparisteel. Even backwards through the clear surface, he could make out the words “GAR Goth Night.”

Goth Night? I didn’t know 79’s did themed nights! What even is a goth night?

A quick look around gave him his answer.

Troopers and civilians alike were dressed in a dark and rebellious style. His clone brothers were all out of armor and wearing a mixture of styles and textures he would never have dreamed of putting together until now. Fishnet shirts or no shirt at all, tiny vinyl pants that left nothing to the imagination and full-length leather pants that…well, they didn’t leave much to the imagination either. Leather coats, studded collars, corsets, lace, fur, chains, spikes, piercings...

The civilians in attendance were dressed just as provocatively, though there were considerably more low-cut crop tops and short skirts being worn by that part of the 79’s population. 9075’s shoulders slumped. He had hoped to blend in and be part of the 79’s crowd tonight. Instead, he was literally and figuratively the shiniest thing there.

He couldn’t stay dressed as he was, but as his eyes landed on the bartender, he had a hopeful idea. He pulled off his helmet and secured it beneath his arm.

“Excuse me? Is there somewhere nearby where I can find some different clothes?”

The bartender took one look at the very un-goth armor in front of him and chuckled. “Didn’t get the memo about tonight, did you kid? Well, you’re in luck. There’s a whole storage closet in the back full of things people have left. Look for the door labeled ‘Lost and Found.’ Just don’t forget your armor when you leave. Something tells me you aren’t used to wearing yours yet.”

9075 pursed his lips to the side. He hated how right the older man was.

The lost and found cupboard was a treasure trove…if you were a woman. He wasn’t so desperate for a new look that he considered putting on one of the six black breast binders hanging on the closet’s hooks, but his young and curious gaze lingered on them for longer than he would ever admit. He didn’t fancy wearing a skirt either, though the sheer number of them had him wondering why so many of 79’s female patrons left the bar missing their clothes.

His bin rooting paid off. He was eventually able to find a few camouflaging choices for a man his size and left his armor carefully tucked beneath a pile of coats. He left the tiny room in a black turtleneck tee and pants, a couple of silver neck chains, and long, gray fingerless gloves roomy enough for him to tuck his vambrace into. It was a barely acceptable look, but with so many far more interesting people present, he doubted anyone would notice, and anything was better than his stark-white armor.

He sat at one of the empty seats of an unoccupied table and watched the comings and goings of the people at the bar. The view was intoxicating in its variety—so much so that he decided to put his skills to the test and try to discern what he could about the people he saw. It would be good practice for the detective work he would soon be doing.

Trooper 9075 knew full well why he was being assigned to the Guard. His observational skills were in the top five percent of all clones. It’s how he noticed the passwords of his trainers and knew when and where they would leave their datapads. He didn’t give it a second thought when he had looked up his scores. If they hadn’t wanted him to know, they should have done a better job of keeping the information secure.

His hidden vambrace was the perfect way to record his observations about the scene around him. He watched as nonchalantly as he could, discreetly speaking his findings into his vambrace’s recorder to review later:

CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report A woman just walked in, a pretty one—brown hair streaked with the same blue as her eyes, nice smile... CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report Marshal Commander Cody is here! I would know that legendary scar anywhere. He’s keeping his assets tastefully covered tonight... CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report I heard someone refer to the clone with the full beard as Commander Mayday. He seems to know he looks good in that sleeveless shirt with the mesh sides. It’s too bad THAT ONE wasn’t in the lost and found closet... CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report The little Mikkian talking to Commander Wolffe must be a Jedi. Three people have addressed her as “commander” in passing... CT-9075: 79’s Stealth Report The men in front of me seem to be setting up a group holopic. Is that...Commander Fox? Then that must be Commander Thorn beside him. Here comes the marshal commander again. Oh, kriff! Here come three more. They're ALL commanders? Whoa! I'm going to be in the background of a commander holo! They all look so cool standing there, and here I am looking no more interesting than the bar stools. I don’t want to ruin the shot. I should do something to fit into it better. Finger blasters maybe…or a victory sign?

This was something his new brothers in the Guard wouldn’t be able to boast about! 9075 knew he would probably be tired in the morning, but it would be worth it. After all, how many shinies could say they were about to be framed on the desks of some of the GAR’s finest commanders?

He was feeling a little less shiny already.

#gar goth night #79s clone bar #coruscant guard #oc 9075 #clone oc #clone shinies #mysterious holographer #the clone wars #clone wars fanfiction #it was a dark and gothy night #amberowl24

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odinsblog · 1 year ago

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Game of Thrones stars and other actors read South Africa's case file charging Israel with genocide at the International Court of Justice.

Transcript:

It was already known that repeated exposure to conflict and violence, including witnessing and experiencing housing demolition, combined with Israel'siege of Gaza since 2007, is associated with high levels of psychological distress amongst Palestinians.

Indeed, the United Nations Security Council Resolution 2712 expressed its deep concern that the disruption of access to education has a dramatic impact on children and that conflict has a lifelong effect on their physical and mental health.

This disruption and its dramatic impact on children must be considered in particular and in the context of the number of Palestinian students and educators who have been killed, 4,037 and 209 respectively, and wounded, estimated at 7,259 and the number of Palestinian schools having been damaged or destroyed 352 or 74% of the schools in the whole of Gaza.

Medical professionals assess that the health effects on all Palestinian children, women, men, older people, people with disabilities and people marginalized identities are immense.

An emergency coordinator for Médecins Sans Frontières interviewed on her return from five weeks in Gaza, describes: It's even worse in reality than it looks. The amount of suffering is just something incomparable. It's really unbearable. I'm speechless when I try and think of the future of these children. Generations of children who will be handicapped, who will be traumatized.

The very children in our mental health program are telling us that they would rather die than continue living in Gaza now.

The extreme levels of bombardment and lack of any safe areas are also causing severe mental trauma in the Palestinian population in Gaza.

Even before the latest onslaught, Palestinians in Gaza suffered severe trauma from prior attacks. 80% of Palestinian children experienced higher levels of emotional distress, demonstrating bed wetting, 79% and reactive mutism, 59% and engaging in self harm, 59% and suicidal thoughts, 55%.

Eleven weeks of relentless bombardment, displacement and loss will necessarily have led to a further increase in those figures, particularly for the estimated tens of thousands of Palestinian children who have lost at least one parent and those who are the sole surviving members of their families.

For the families who remain intact or partially intact, quote, “It's about doing everything you can so your child doesn't realize that you've lost control.”

There are reports of Israeli forces using white phosphorus in densely populated areas in Gaza.

As the World Health Organization describes, even small amounts of white phosphorus can cause deep and severe burns, penetrating even through bone and capable of reigniting after initial treatment.

There are no functioning hospitals in the north of Gaza in particular, such that injured persons are reduced to waiting to die, unable to seek surgery or medical treatment beyond first aid, dying slow, agonizing deaths from their injuries or from resultant infections.

Large numbers of Palestinian civilians, including children, have reportedly been arrested, blindfolded, forced to undress and remain outside in cold weather before being forced onto trucks and taken to unknown locations.

Medics and first responders in particular have been repeatedly detained by Israeli forces, with many being detained in communicado at unknown locations.

Videos published by Israeli media on Christmas Day appeared to show hundreds of Palestinians rounded up inside al-Yarmouk football stadium in Gaza City, including children, older people and persons with disabilities, being forced to strip to their underwear in degrading conditions. United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian affairs, or UN OCHA, reports video footage showing bruises and burns on the bodies of detainees.

Images of mutilated and burned corpses, alongside videos of armed attacks by Israeli soldiers are reportedly circulated in Israel via a Telegram channel called, 72 Virgins Uncensored, billed as exclusive content from the Gaza Strip.

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pedge-page · 1 year ago

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Candles

Part 5 to Best Man Series. follow Christmas Party.

Joel Miller x F!Reader, Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It's Tommy's birthday. So why are you still looking for Joel to celebrate it?

notes: Its been 4 months but here's the next part for those of you still waiting on since December! The next part will most likely be the finale.

Warnings: unprotected sex (with Tommy), infidelity / cheating, pregnant reader, toy usage, dildo riding, breeding kink, oral m!receiving (with Joel), m!masturbation, short voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cum eating, jealous!Joel, emotions are FLLYYINNGGG in this one

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

He’s at home, drifting off in thought as his hands do poor work on wrapping paper around the new pair of shoes and watch that he picked out. When Sarah, who’s focus is on brushing her doll’s hair and changing her bathing suit, starts yapping about how Uncle Tommy's kid is gonna be her best friend since she doesn't have any siblings to play with right now, all Joel can think about is you and Tommy together right now on his special day.

What would it be like, waking up to you in a shared bed every day? To be the first to kiss you, smell your morning breath and sift his fingers through your bed head? To see your eyes shine from the sun reflecting off of them, twinkling with the buildup of a tear after a yawn.

What would it be like, getting a birthday blow job from you first thing in the morning? Even if you aren’t his wife, he’s thought about getting to have you all the time, just for him. He doesn’t get jealous of Tommy very often, because Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous, but he tuts at the idea that your mouth wrapped around his cock is a sight he gets to behold more often than Joel ever will.

What would it be like, to not have to sneak around? To just have you loudly, unashamed, sloppily, proudly, the way you deserve, without constantly checking behind your back? To capture your lips in front of everyone like it were normal, to hold your pregnant belly like it was his, because damnit it might as well be.

It drives him insane he can’t mark you up the way Tommy can, less the two of you be caught in your affair. All he can do is pound you better, ruin you some more, and fill you with his seed.

As if the last one hadn’t already reared its consequences in your growing belly. You’re too beautiful, too full of something special to be kept to one guy.

Still. He’ll only ever be second to Tommy.

What would it be like … to call you his?

“Dad…Dad!”

“What!”

Joel looks down at Sarah who’s got her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face.

Jesus, she really does spend too much time with me.

“The door,” she repeats, pointing downstairs. On cue, the doorbell chimes again.

He grunts as he lifts himself to his feet, brushing her head messily with his big palm before hopping down to answer.

It’s his dad.

“How old ya gotta be to leave your old man standin’ outside in the cold?”

Joel rolls his eyes, shifting to allow his father through the front. “It’s 79 degrees out.”

“Cold for my old bones,” he groans, feinting a shiver. “Share-Bear!”

Sarah bulldozers straight to his abdomen and wraps her arms in a big hug.

Joel lightly tugs on one of her curly strands and she yelps “ow!”

“Go upstairs and get changed.”

She barrels upstairs to her room, leaving Joel and Miller senior.

Joel continues tossing a bunch of tape on to the sad excuse of a gift before crinkling all the paper up and tossing it. He moves to search for a gift bag in the closet instead.

His dad sighs loudly. “Tommy sure got a nice beat goin’ for ‘im.”

“Sure does,” Joel notes, his attention more on the shoving past the vacuum.

“Good house, good job, kid on the way. A pretty gal.”

Joel closes the closet and turns towards his dad. “What’s your point, pops?”

“You know my point. He’s got it all together. You...”

“Me what? You don’t think I ain’t doin good on my own?”

“You shouldn’t have to be on your own. Sarah’s mom wasn’t...we knew she wasn’t gonna stick around. Its tough havin’ a kid to raise by yourself—“

“I wouldn’t trade my babygirl in for anything else in the world,” Joel snaps quickly. His eyes dart upstairs briefly. Its a conversation he hates when his dad brings up, especially when Sarah could just be lurking around the corner.

“Im not sayin’ that but.” Grandpa Miller shakes his head and takes a seat at the island. “Kid needs a mom. You need a woman. Someone to hold and kiss and make promises to. Someone to love.”

Joel drops the now filled bag on the countertop. I have that already. It’s just—complicated. “There a reason you stopped by? Other than to lecture me?”

His father grunts apathetically. “Just came by for some wrapping paper, but by the looks of it—“ He glances at Joel’s empty tape roll and bunched up pile of ribboned paper—“Guess I’ll go down to the store to get some.”

“Well you know where the door is.”

His dad follows Joel to his open front door to show him out. One aging father and one rapidly aging eldest son look at each other with a sense of sadness.

“Joel—“

“I’ll see you at Tommy’s.”

If you weren’t so pregnant, waking up before Tommy would have been so much easier to give him a blow job.

Instead. It’s half past 9, and you’re just rousing to consciousness. Fully well knowing Tommy has probably been awake for at least an hour but faking it just so he can wake up with you.

“Good morning birthday boy,” you grumble groggily, a soft smile spreading across your cheeks as you pull him in for a peck.

He grins and wraps himself around you. “Mmm Good Morning, little Momma. Ya know what I want for my birthday?”

You did know. He dropped hints like crazy and you already had it ready to go by your nightstand.

The thing about Tommy is…Tommy likes watching. It’s something you figured out when you were already dating after a year. Something about watching you touch yourself, spreading your legs on the bed and fucking yourself with a dildo, or grinding on his pillow and moaning as he stroked his cock from across the room, has him leaking in his palm with dirty words of encouragement.

And even with a hefty baby in your belly, his view of you bouncing on top of the sizable dildo was no different.

“Fuck, fuck that’s it angel. Takin’ that dick so good. Bet it feels good, huh?” He grips his balls with his palm while the other fists over his dick. Sitting upright in your makeup chair, fully naked and facing the bed, he gets a view of everything. His hungry eyes never once leave your body.

You nod. Your knees hurt, but the sight of Tommy’’s heart shaped eyes watching your milky breasts bounce, your lips spread to accomodate the girth of the silicon cock has you smiling for your deserving husband.

“It’s—not as easy with the bump…” you say fretfully. You feel like shit, not being able to give him the show that he wanted on his birthday. It’s a lot more difficult to angel and thrust a stick into you when there’s a planet blocking your view.

Tommy hoists himself up quickly, jerking his cock as he approaches you. He tosses the dildo and crawls over you before veiny hands caress along your hips, over your belly and squeezing your tits. “S’okay, little Momma. ‘m’here now. Daddy’s gonna make it better.”

You grasp his face with both hands and grin, pulling his lips to yours. At the same time, he slides his leaking member into your folds, forcing a grunt in the back of both of your throats as he bottoms out.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he growls, fucking you steadily with deep strokes. “I get my one birthday wish today. Thinking’ I’m gonna leave a little present in this pussy. Have ya walk around all day with a lil bit of me inside.”

You laugh and gently tap your belly. “There’s a bit more than a ‘little’ bit of you inside me already.”

His stomach rumbles with a a chuckle. “That’s for everyone else to know who ya belong to. Nah, I’m talkin something just between you n me.” His arm holds himself above you as he rocks his hips with shallow ruts. “Shit, shit, ya gonna take it f’me? Gonna take my present on my fuckin’ birthday?”

You let out a high pitched whine, neck convulsing backwards as your cunt starts tightening around his length.

Tommy locks your lips to his, tongue’s messily rolling into one another’s mouth. A string of saliva connect between the two of you when he pulls away, only for him to rub it against your breast.

“Tommy,” you moan desperately. You’re close, you’re about to tell him so: “I—“

“I love you,” he rasps. His eyes are shut tight as he finds that sweet spot inside, sending you over the edge before you can finish your thought.

He thrusts a few more times before stilling. His balls twitch with satisfaction, each grunt from his chest echoing the spurts of his seed inside you. He feels at peace when he can be this close to you, his hand warm against your tight tummy and his soon-to-be kids.

His soon to be complete family.

His words rattle in your ears. You feel the opposite of light and airy after an orgasm. No, everything is heavy. Your head feels like a boulder stuck to the pillow. Yet empty. Your body so full yet feeling incredibly hollow right now.

Tommy kisses your lips once more, not noticing the way you don't return the vervor. He sits up, wipes the sweat from his brows and slaps your thigh.

“You okay? Fucked ya a little too hard, baby momma?” He snickers.

You fake a laugh, hoping he’ll see you’re feeling exhausted rather than suspect anything is wrong.

Your husband kisses your forehead with a whisper “Stay in bed, you rest as long as ya need,” before walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I love you. It should have made you feel surrounded by him. Comforted, secure, proud, inseparable, sound, cherished, warm, fuzzy, happy, truthful, light. Your husband confessing his love to you.

Instead, it only reminded you of the dream had about Joel again last night.

Joel in your house. Joel in your bed. Joel dropping Sarah off at school and feeding your newborn with her bottle. Joel cooking in your backyard, Joel’s hands entwined with yours on a walk. Joel rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Joel kissing your cheek and telling you he lo—

You cover your face with the back of your hands. Tommy’s the one in your bed. Tommy holds your hand and kisses your cheek, and will be feeding and burping your baby, will be there for you forever and always because that’s what you promised to each other.

You hold the ring on your finger up high in the air, its dazzling shimmer glints in your eyes. Your eternal promise, displayed on something so small yet so permanent, wrapped up in such a beautiful band.

The same ring that Best Man Joel carried in his pocket safely for months before you swore yourself to his brother.

You curse under your breath.

You’re still going to have to see him today.

He watches you crowd over Tommy seated at the head of the table, your hands lovingly on his shoulders. He thinks about his “one wish” for a while, but he only looks sideways towards you, holding your gaze for a moment before he confidently blows his candles. The room erupts in a rumble of cheers and clapping, but Tommy and you are only smiling at one another. He grabs your face and kisses you, smearing some icing on your nose. You laugh with him and rub it along his own, the two of you giddy and in your own world.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

And when you slice into the cake, nobody really understand why the cake is split between a blue and pink center. Everyones thinking the same thing--we already did the baby shower, it was going to be a girl!

“We might...have found out…there's gonna be another one,” you say sheepishly, your hands rollings over the heft of your larger than life belly that surprisingly has two little bubbas growing inside.

Twins. you're having fucking twins.

Tommy grasps your face and smears more icing on you, the two of you locking lips again and getting a little too pg-13 in a room full of raucous screeches that feel like nails on a chalkboard, shuffling chairs like a thunderous stampede. Everyone rushes to congratulate the two of you, how your lives are really starting, how exciting it must all be, what names you’ve been thinking of, its its everything you’d hoped it would be.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

Tommy knew, of course he did. Both of you planned it, to announce it like that. He’s got that smug look on his face, nothing of surprise. Just absolutely elated to share news that had been sitting on the two of you for who knows how long. Something Joel used to always get firsthand word from. You’re having twins. And he’s learning about it for the first time, same as everyone else. Tommy’s friends pat him on the back. Aunts kiss his cheek and even his dad smiles towards his youngest son’s success, all while the whole time, his ringed hand hasn’t left the curve of your swollen womb.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

He slips out the back of the room, everyone too engrossed in surrounding the happy couple. Nobody cared for Joel’s presence, not since the minute Tommy was born. Nobody would bat an eye for his absence today too.

…

You’re excited, you want to celebrate, and having everyone touching and surrounding you and asking questions wasn’t the way you wanted it. That’s why it was supposed to be during Tommy’s birthday, so there was something else to focus on.

But your body is on edge. It was attention from all that thrill. Jittery and warm under your palms.

Between your legs.

It’s hard to force Joel out of your mind whenever he’s in the same room. So when he dips out of the kitchen without making any gesture towards you, you didn’t hesitate to excuse yourself for a bathroom break. Nobody questions it, continuing their swarm around Tommy now who’s too eager for all the attention to really notice.

You don’t know what you expect from Joel. You don’t even know why you’re seeking him right now, and not standing by your husband’s side. You love Tommy. He’s everything to you.

So why is there still this half of you that feels… like you need more?

Maybe your body is thinking on her own accord now, and that’s been a problem that needs to end. No. No you just wanted to talk. That’s all. He's your brother-in-law, for fucks sake. it’s natural you want to hear his thoughts. He’s gonna be a double uncle! He deserves a congratulations! Hope he’ll tell you congratulations too. Acknowledge it in some way. That its happening. That you and Tommy—are just you and Tommy.

You wonder where the older Miller may have gone in such a small house. Sarah was still in the room, sneaking cake since nobody else seemed to care to slice it up, so where on earth—?

A callused palm wrap around your mouth and pulls you backwards into the dark bathroom, the door closing you inside with him warm and pressed tightly against your back.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispers. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, all the way down to the dampness spreading along your panties. Fuck. What was it about just ‘talking’ to him again?

“J-Joel,” your voice wavers cautiously. “I—“

“You still gonna keep pretending you don’t want me?”

You face him as he turns the lights on and the two of you are caught in one another’s grasps. There’s a moment where you size him up, and he wonders if you’ll bluff his pass.

Instead, Like magnets that can’t resist their attractions, your instincts overwhelm you. Your eager fingers dig into the back of his neck and smash his lips against yours. The traces of icing still linger on your lips and tongue, the two of you devouring one another, fighting to get the last lick before coming apart to breathe.

Joel just smirks, his tongue swiping over his puffy lower lip. “Sweet,” he hums. His thumb brushes the bit of icing you didn’t know was still on your nose and puts it in his mouth. “How somethin’ so sweet come from someone so naughty?”

You quickly drop to a squat and roughly shove his hips back against the sink. Nimble fingers working swiftly to unbuckle his jeans and shove them down to his thighs.

You’re both panting through swollen lips, heart rate moving a lot quicker than the activities you’ve so far done would permit. He’s gorgeous like this—illuminated by the harsh florescent light above, his sincere, albeit sinful, smile and rosy cheeks watching you kiss his hardened length.

He doesn’t force you. Doesn’t do anything to make you feel concerned. In fact, you’ve cornered him against the vanity, forcing yourself between his bent knees and inserting his tip to your wet mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers softly. His thumb strokes over your cheek as you guide more of his leaking cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not even to blink.

Your head bobs eagerly, swallowing around him. There’s just something about that huge dick of his that has you going feral. An itch you can’t scratch until his cum is either nested safely in your stomach or your womb. Maybe it’s because you’ll never be able to get rid of him. He’ll be around forever, and that means you can keep seeing him and his beefy horse cock forever. Forbidden yet yours for the taking. Every day if you wanted.

The sounds of the party outside feel so remote compared to the events happening in such a little room right now. Just between you and Joel.

The babies ain’t quite here yet so just you and Joel.

“Pretty pretty angel, sucking’ Daddy’s cock like that. What would your husband think? Suckin’ his big brother off in your house? I’d tell ‘im you got to your knees all by yourself. Little slut couldn’t wait for it. Second she saw me, needed my fat cock stretchin’ her throat, ain’t that right? Needed me to give ya something today too? Just that selfish, aren’t ya?”

You pull off his cock with a big gasp, smiling lazily. He slaps his cock against your open tongue with thick and wet patpatpats.

He tsks you. “Pregnant gal, on her knees, takin’ cock like a slut. What a woman you are, little momma.”

You hum in approval, the drunken desire for Joel to fill your every senes clogging your brain.

Soft lips enclose around his tip again and he thrusts forward this time, holding his cock deep. You try to remember to breathe through your nose, even with his hairs tickling your lashes, but Joel pulls back enough to just his tip, and sets a gentle rhythm back and forth.

Joel’s head falls back against the mirror. His eyelids feel heavy each time he looks down to you. So full and rounded by a child—two children…if they're his, Joel’s having another daughter and his first son.

“Told ya you were made from breedin’. You’re gonna be like this the rest of ya life. Gonna put another baby in ya, then another—” he chuckles to himself, “N’another—havin’ ya suck cock not remember what number baby ya got growing’ in ya belly.”

He hisses through his teeth as you suck his member in and out, picking up pace. Your tongue works over his tip with each swipe, hand jerking off the base of his dick that you can’t fit. Any saliva and precum is immediately suckled and swallowed, leaving no evidence at the scene.

You’d gotten pretty good at that.

Joel’s beefy paw grasps the porcelain edge behind him as he hisses through his teeth. His stomach tenses, the veins in his v’line straining and you know he’s close.

You alternate between sucking his balls and jacking off his cock above you. “What if I busted all over that pretty face? Have ya walk around your house with my cum on those lashes as everyone told ya what a cock hungry whore you are.”

You moan around him, your pussy so slicked between your thighs that it’s dripping down your pants. Its wrong. Fuck, you’re so wrong to want it. Want Tommy to see who’s marking you up, see how much you’d spread your pussy for Miller cock no matter if its your husbands his brothers.

His cock finds its way to your mouth again, and he starts thrusting lightly.

“Swallow it, swallow it all. Want ya hesitatin’ to kiss Tommy after this. Knowin’ ya got my spunk in your mouth still. Fuck me babydoll, mouth’s a dream.”

His jaw drops low as he cums, and god what a sight. Your cunt throbs as he lets out pained breaths into the air, ready to cum if you were able to touch yourself right now.

You gulp down his salty load, lips suctioned to his tip and milking him clean to avoid any messes that might linger.

“That’s a good slutty wife,” he whispers down to you. Even on your knees, the heft of your pregnant belly is doing wonders to him.

You lazily grin up to his smug grin. He knows you like showing him just how good you are at swallowing loads, like a good wife always does.

He pulls his softened cock out of your mouth, and you gasp a big breath of air, your hands still clinging to his thighs.

You feel his protective hands hoist you up to your feet.

“Anything hurt?” He asks gently, holding your body flush against him as he rubs your tummy and hips. He feels much less tense than just moments ago when he pulled you in the bathroom with him.

You shake your head. It’s not the first time you’ve gone down on a man while 30 pounds heavier with a baby. Your knees are a bit sore, but it’s nothing compared to the ache you’ve been feeling in your back for months now.

You try to pull away from Joel, but his arm is wrapped tightly around you.

“Didn’t think you were pullin’ me in here just to suck me off. Why are you actin’ like this little snatch is happy from that?”

“I didn’t pull you—you pulled me,” you correct.

“You came lookin’ f’me. And you got on your knees all by yourself.”

His hands caress lower down your hip, gliding along your leggings towards your crotch. It should be wrong, the way your hand closes around his wrist to guide him closer, his digits dipping below the waistline and down your panties.

He feels it: the soft squelch of your slick in your ruined underwear, pulsing madly. He grins and lets out a satisfied yet devious ‘ooooh there we go’ against your cheek.

But there’s more. More dripping from here than he’s given you just from the thrill of sucking his cock.

He pushes his middle finger past your entrance and fingers out the glob of cum that had been deposited inside you earlier today.

“It’s —it’s Tommy’s birthday,” you moan, as if he needed an explanation as to why your husband’s seed is dripping out of your pussy. “Had—to give him—ooohhhhuugggg—his…gift—“

He continues to finger fuck you slowly, his younger brother’s cum practically pooling in your underwear. “Got one man’s cum in your mouth and a different one’s in ya pussy." He shakes his head. when he gets you like this, sometimes he would forget that you’re Tommy’s wife, after all. That Tommy gets you more than him. Gets to fill you whenever he pleases. Gets to hear your moans as loudly as he wants. That Tommy’s right to your pussy is his first and foremost, sacredly, forever and always.

That doesn’t stop Joel from seething at the thought of having to finger his brothers spent out of you.

"What, he didn’t make ya cum?” He taunts, picking up the pace. Even as you wreathe under his touch, your nails clench into his bicep, feeling the muscle work with each flick of his knuckle. “S’why you’re so desperate today? Wifey didn’t get her selfish little cunt pleased from your husband on his birthday?”

"I did come …” you protest weakly. You squeeze your eyes shut, head tilted down as he works you open. It’s sloppy and sticky in your leggings, soaking the underside with your slick and Tommy’s cum being forced out by Joel’s big fingers relentlessly hitting the gummy spot inside.

His other hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him:

“Then why you comin’ to me?”

There’s a prickle of a tear filling your eyes. You've been asking yourself the same thing for months. You don’t know from what; the brink of pleasure or guilt, but there’s a hefty stone that’s burrowed in your chest all day that you didn’t know needed to escape. The words are forced out of your chest with a pained gasp.

"... I just want... more.”

It should pain you to admit it, to be so selfish for these men, never feeling one is enough for you.

Normally He would kiss you right now, to hush your mind to reveal something so heavy, but instead, he holds your gaze, gritting his teeth with a snarl just barely poking along his lip. He wants to let your words sink into your bones, really grasp what you've been denying for too long. Suffer with it, even.

You hadn’t even realized he backed you up against the door, pressing his knee between your leg. You’ve become trapped and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers prod your entrance incessantly, reaching deep inside so there’s no way of you to wiggle out of his grasp. curling up and beating your g-spot better than Tommy can—at this point, its very possible you’ve had more sex with Joel than with your own husband.

And that makes the coil in your pussy snap.

Joel belittles you without any words while you fall apart against the wooden door holding you up. Working the heft of his palm against your clit until your brows are furrowing, mouth agape, walls clamping down tight around him as you cum. The door rattles with each little roll of your hips, and your moans aren’t hushed either.

He watches, the way your eyes are glued to him, blown wide in guilt and in pleasure while little whines escape your lips. Unrelenting and stoic as he works you through your orgasm, granting no mercy nor even trying to shush your little cries from over stimulation. You don’t hesitate when he brings his fingers to your lips, swallowing them whole and sucking Tommy and your slick off Joel’s fingers. He wipes the rest off on your shirt.

Every emotion you feel with Tommy, you feel with Joel in moments like these. He holds you close to him as you breathe in his musky, minty scent. His shirt smells a bit like flowered softener and a hint of early morning sweat. Fumigated with the thick aroma of sex.

You're looking at the ring on your knuckle.

“I helped pick it out. Carried it for months. ’S practically my ring to you too.” He’s babbling now, getting lost in that hazy after-orgasm glow between two people who are connected by a strong, strange bond. “Sometimes …sometimes I think about stealing you away all to myself.”

He makes you two look in the mirror together, with him cradling your belly as you hold your ring hand to your chest. “Look,” he commands softly against your ear. “Kinda looks like our own little family.”

You hate that you kind of liked that idea. But then Tommy is in your mind, the man that you actually love, who fought for you, who you tied your vows to, and as far as you’re concerned, the father of your children.

Angry, you try to break away and shove Joel, but he's used to it. Used to you closing him off right after these moments of pure insanity. He's not letting it happen today. This time he’s got a firm grip on you like a brick wall and steel wire melding you tight to him. He knows you don’t actually want to push him away.

"You said you wanted more.”

It’s not a question: it’s a statement. A fact.

The very real thought, the one you tried to push away every time this happens, dawns on you: Joel is tired of sneaking around. Wants to have you when he wants. When everyone is watching.

Not just sex. To be in your bed, making you dinner and watching movies, dropping Sarah off to school rubbing your back when you’re in pain, there for the babies when you deliver and every day after.

You manage to push him off of you and shake your head. The chatter outside grows louder than the beats of your heart. Hoisting your pants back up into place, you go to grab the bathroom door, but Joels strong grip lays over top your and forces the door shut.

There’s a deadly, threatening finality to his tone. “I’m telling him.”

You turn back with a shocked expression, partially expecting him to be joking about it. Not that it’s funny. It’s not funny at all.

But Joel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t cracked a smile. A man whose resolve has overcome his patience. His lips are tight, jaw tense as he watches you try to answer to that horrifying outcome.

“Joel. No. Are you insane?”

“If its my kids you’re having, I have every right to be there for you—“

“But it’s NOT!”

“You know that? Tell me right know, you know it for sure. Say it ain’t mine, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

You go quiet, looking down at the belly that’s carrying your babies. You want to shrink away from your fears, from the men who’ve caught you between them with their words and their love and their touch. You’re Tommy’s wife. Yet here you are with Joel. Again. In your and Tommy’s house. And Joel’s hand on you, and on your finger is Tommy’s ring—Joel’s ring--TOMMY—

It’s too much. Everything is closing around you, your lungs suffocating themselves under the pressure that you caused by seeking him out. Finding him and putting yourself in this exact situation ever. Single. Time.

You yank the door again, desperate to escape, but Joel doesn’t budge. He refuses to let you walk away from the conversation. From him.

“You didn’t deny it,” he reminds you. he pulls your reluctant focus to him again. “Just say it: Tell me you want me. Tell me you lo—”

“I don’t.” You declare rigidly. Its too far. No, no, no,nonoNO. You expel those thoughts, his words, quick to cast them out before letting them enter your system. The next words rush out of your mouth with a deep ache seized in the pit of your stomach: “You’re just a good fuck.”

The air is thin around you. Something has dropped, a pin, a dime, a fucking boulder, between the two of you. Joel grits his teeth and removes his hand from the door, backing away from you with a scowl. He pulls it the knob open harshly and brushes past you quickly, not even taking a moment to check if anyone was nearby to see you emerging from the bathroom too.

He grabs his jacket and strides towards the living room. You can make out the commotion behind the wall; Sarah is having her own philosophy course to her personal audience, asking, "Whats the point of having so many candles if you can only make one wish!?"

Joel grabs her hand and dismisses them quickly. Her sad cries echo into the hall: “But why! It’s too early!”

Joel’s stern voice echoes in the hall as they make their way across the entryway. “Because I said so. I’ve got work tomorrow. We’re leaving.”

She continues to complain, but Joel doesn’t have any heart to continue their conversation. Ushering her out of the house and slamming the front door behind them.

You stare at the door, having not moved from your place.

The carpet beneath your socked-feet feels too shaggy. I hated this carpet. Its too fucking much for fucking Texas and every god damn person who sees it here.

You flinch when Tommy’s hand creeps along your belly. Disgusting your sniffle as a cough and wiping your nose. You worry he noticed, but he doesn’t do anything to push the matter further. “What’s up with him?”

You huff an annoyed sigh. “I don’t fucking know. He’s your brother. Just Leave me the fuck alone.”

Tommy observes your face momentarily, the way you avoid his eyes. He pulls away. “I’m gonna let this one slide as a pregnancy hormonal thing,” he says lowly, a cold soberness to his tone. “Then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya so much lately. Or not. I’ll let you decide.”

You cover your face with your hands, sinful hands that feel like dry leather and charred ashes. Hands that don’t feel like your own anymore.

It would be better if Tommy just walked away. So you can simmer in your guilt and pain, like any cheating wife would. Like a sensible man who doesn’t take that shit from his wife, no matter what her personal problems are. From a woman who’s secretly jeopardizing their marriage for… what exactly?

You wanted more…but…what did you want more of?

Instead, Tommy feels his lips quiver slightly. He brings your head to his chest, smothering you in his scent and his embrace, his love and comfort.

Your insides break down in a flood. Tears and hiccups suffocate you as you wrap your arms around your husband and sob into his denim jacket, the one you just gave him this morning as his first birthday gift from his new wife.

Tommy’s never pushed you for anything. Maybe to his own detriment.

Deep down, you suspect, he knows it too.

Instead, he just holds you, swaying back and forth with gentle ‘shhh’ into your forehead. Never once faltering on the stretch of his hug, his arms holding you up and against him like a seatbelt built for a lifetime.

You feel like you just drove the car off a cliff.

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