kiki 🤍

What happens if it doesn’t work? If you don’t have enough in common given the age difference of it all? If he follows the club rules rather than the ones you want in place, stepping out with a croweater just because he’s on a run? 

Knowing him your whole life gives you a different perspective. Him, the club, the way they think and treat women like collectibles. They want it all, but no one's had you. Are you a challenge? A toy? Some sort of prize? 

How would it affect her? If you tried it and failed miserably, what happens then? Does he walk away? Do you? And would she ever forgive you if you did?

You had way too many questions and no way to answer them without actually asking for the answers, but getting words out of Happy was like pulling teeth. Grunts and nods only provide so much clarity, so the moment you sat down with that long awaited coffee you came out swinging. 

“Is this just about getting laid?” 

“The fuck you just say?” 

“Be serious,” you scolded him for his tone with a sharper one of your own, demanding he actually listen to you. “You’re the conqueror. Women from here to Tacoma talk about your monster sized dick, but they also talk about you tossing them out like trash when you’re done.” He choked on his coffee, hot black liquid snorted up his nasal cavity, but that didn’t stop you. “So again, is this just about getting laid? Because whatever the hell we’re doing is working, and if that’s all you want from me, I’d rather not ruin it for her.”

He listened to everything you said. He tried to anyway, but his brain was stuck. “Monster dick?” 

“Okay,” you sighed, pushing back on the table to make a swift exit with your overpriced iced coffee. 

“I treat trash like trash,” he took hold of your wrist before you could even take a step, straightening up in his seat, “you ain’t trash.” 

He dropped your arm, letting you have an out if you really wanted it, but it prompted you to sit. A little less tense than before, rejoining the conversation now that he was actually ready to have it. 

“I’m not playing with you.” 

You scoffed, fiddling with anything and everything to disguise the trembling taking over your limbs. “No you’re just a man after my daughter’s heart.”

“Already have that, it’s yours I’m worried about.” 

Everything around you came to a dead stop. The ringing in your ears faded to a dull hum and your hands finally stopped shaking with nerves of this epically failing before it could even start.

The two of you settled, relaxing into your seats, fiddling with your cups because neither of you knew what to do next. You’re out of practice, he’s never tried. The buzz of the cafe kept the two of you company while you figured out where you go from here.

You came out swinging, so it’s only fair you keep it going. 

“You’re halfway there, seeing you with her is like a cheat code… Be honest, you don’t find it even a little odd? How much she clings to you?” 

He looked up from his cup and blinked once. An expression that told you exactly how stupid of a question that was. “We’ll bring her with us next time.” 

“A family outing, how domestic.” 

“Family’s important.” He took a sip, you took a sip. Watching each other closely like the other might disappear if either of you blinked. It was his turn to speak first, but he didn’t do conversation well. He handled in facts, orders. “There’s a park by my house, we’ll go there.” 

“Domestic and presumptuous.” 

“Can’t hide from me, she won’t let you.” 

“Yeah that’s true,” you took another slow sip of coffee, eyes up, straw resting on your bottom lip, “so what I’m hearing is, technically you are using my daughter to get laid.” 

“Using our daughter to hitched.” 

You gasped, absolutely sure you uncovered the secret of the year. “Gemma did put you up to this didn’t she?”

“Nah, Jax.”

“Motherfucker,” you laughed, lightly kicking his leg under the table. The joyful noise broke the wall. It was a harsh shot to the support beam that sent his hardened biker attitude crumbling down. 

“Been watching you for a while, he noticed.” 

“Watching me?” You snorted, falling a little harder for that obnoxious bluntness that bordered the line of charming. 

“I liked your belly when you were pregnant, you looked like the sun.” 

You gasped again, softer, shock evident in the blood leaving your face. This wasn’t a whim. You had convinced yourself he just woke up and decided this was happening, that this was something he decided on just because it’s what she wanted.

He said it was about her, but this started before her. He might be too hardcore to admit it in those exact words, but he wanted you, he’s always wanted you.

He grinned at the thought. The sundresses that barely fit you, the waddle to your walk, the way your skin glowed like you were made up entirely of sunshine and morning dew.

"It makes sense now.” 

You swallowed the air stuck in your throat, and searched him. “How so?” 

“You had all the joy inside you, gave birth to sunshine.” 

The blood came rushing back, heat consuming you entirely, eyes like saucers. Who the hell is this guy and where did he come from? The Tacoma Killer you know wasn’t this. He was cold, distant, calculated and quiet. But Happy Lowman, you were quickly learning was much more than that. Warm when necessary, protective above all else, bordering the line of loving. As weird as the notion may be, very similar to your dad even. Someone halfway decent tied to a world that’s anything but. 

“That’s…that’s really sweet, Happy.” 

He nodded. One sharp tip of his chin to acknowledge the situation. “How’d she happen?” 

“Oh, that’s… that’s um.” 

He watched your mind work, spinning on a memory that turned your eyes a haunting shade in place of your bright irises. “You don’t gotta tell me,” he muttered, nudging your foot with the tip of his boot, “just curious.” 

“Well, there was this guy, obviously.” You swallowed. It was a lot, and nothing you’ve ever shared. Jax never asked, never cared, but he did mention it to Happy. All that hurt you came home with, and how far you’ve come since. A friendly heads up to help him understand you and your hesitation to trust anyone.

“It was supposed to be casual fun, but he started taking things too far and the psycho didn’t understand the word no I guess.” You fiddled with your coffee, eyes down, crossing and uncrossing your legs. “I came home the next day, didn’t stop driving until I was on Jax’s front porch. I took the morning after pill and everything but a month later was the positive test.” 

Everything fell into place like a math equation, x+y=z, he just didn’t have all the pieces back then. When he watched you fight like hell to put life back in your eyes. When you switched to burner phones permanently because your cell never stopped ringing. When you disappeared the same week Jax sent out a hunting party out for a pompous douche bag roaming around town. 

Happy didn’t care for details. The less he knows the simpler things go. It’s transactional, routine. With all the variables it's rageful, and rage creates a dangerous game. 

“I’m sorry, ‘bout what he did to you.” 

He slid his hand halfway across the table, mirroring the subtle movement of support he picked up from you. You didn’t take it at first, even though you wanted to. You shifted in your seat, absently tracking the mix of ink up his arm. He rolled his wrist, flexing, showing off the ink your gaze was fixated on, and your hand slipped. Right across the table and into his, brushing your fingers gently across his warm skin.

“I’m okay,” you managed, “I don’t think about it much anymore.”

“She get anything from him?” 

“No, thankfully. I was terrified I’d like resent her or something crazy.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of your little carbon copy. It was hard at first. All the hurt, pain, bottled up and redirected into being the best version of yourself for her. The little blip on the ultrasound that was now growing like a weed. A perfect balance of all you and your fathers best genes. “She uh, she does do this thing with her nose-” 

Your sentence ended with a laugh, watching his stoic expression transform into the most hilarious view. He knew what you were talking about before you had the chance, Happy made the face. The nose wrinkle, lips pursed, squinted eyes face. 

“Exactly, my dad used to do that. When he smelled something bad, or didn’t like how something tasted. She got that from him.” 

“I knew him.” 

You rolled your eyes and his jaw clenched. He so badly wanted to pop the side of your head, but of course he didn’t. He politely ignored the urge with a stabilizing deep breath in.

“Everyone knew him,” you smiled, eyes on the sky because despite all his faults you knew he was watching closely. Always with you in the stories told and the gentle breeze when things get tough.

“Not like that, we were friends.” 

Your head tilted, he walked right into that one, “and now you’re trying to get with his daughter, funny how things work out, huh?”

His jaw flexed, muscles working while he tried to shove down the thoughts he’s been doing his best to keep buried. You nudged his shoe, and that devilish onyx gaze found your softened one once more.

“I’m just messing with you,” you chuckled, leg stretched under the table to tap his knee with your toes. He caught your foot with a tug, putting your shoe in his lap and kept his hand wrapped around your ankle. 

“You’re like him, strong.” 

You readjusted yourself so the position you were forced in was at least halfway comfortable, soaking up the sensation of his thumb rolling over your joint. “Thank you.” 

“I need you to know you don’t gotta be strong with me.” 

That made you squirm, too much too soon, inching back up to sit straight in your seat. His words were hitting way to close to home and you didn’t know what to do with them yet, because you didn’t know what he wanted yet. 

“What do you want out of this? Really?” 

He tapped his ring on the table, deciding how to answer the question that felt like a trap. He could only really answer it one way because it should be simple. Obvious. She’s the only reason you’re here, and the only reason he grew the balls to do anything about his habit of craving you. “Told you, it’s been about her, you’re a good lookin’ bonus.” 

“Funny.”

“True.” 

You tapped your cup, fingers drumming nervously along the condensation. “I never wanted to be with a member, I know how messy it can get.” 

“Never wanted an old lady either,” he grumbled, surveying the exits like it was second nature, “things change.”

“You do know I’m not going to marry you just like that, right?” 

“I ain’t worried about that,” he cleared his throat and leaned back, “just let me know when you’re ready to change her name.” 

“Yeah right,” you chuckled and that devilish onyx gaze found your softened one. 

Oh. Oh, he’s serious. 

“She’s my kid,” he stated, voice rough and void of the hint of playfulness he kept letting slip. He was crazy, but not about this. You didn’t have to be a Lowman, but she would be, and something about that did it for you. 

The claim, the boldness, the seriousness too. This wasn’t a game to him. He just wanted to be a dad, her dad. That hungry look in your eye made him shift his denim, and that was all it took.

Mama Gemma was right, you really could use it.

“I have another hour before I’m supposed to pick her up,” you swirled your cup, ice shaking up the mixture, “do you want to get out of here?”

His expression searched yours. He knew that tone. That not so subtle lilt, the way you bit your lip and held it hostage. You wanted a test drive, and he was more than happy to oblige. He downed the rest of his plain black coffee in one gulp and stood, one hand out and the other pulling out his keys.

“Should be more careful about what you’re asking for.” 

He stalked towards the end of your mattress, cock too hard and heavy to stand upright. You gulped. Monster cock. Red hot and leaking, coming right at you like a war missile set to destroy. 

You expected heaven. You expected a minimum of one mind blowing orgasm that would make you see God. Your expectations hit an all time low. He was rough, selfish, and quick. He knew what he liked and took exactly that. There was no more, no less.

He manhandled into a position that did nothing for you. Split you in half by his size with little prep and used you like a flesh-light until the condom was tossed to the side like toxic waste and ropes of cum were spraying across your back. 

Then the beast of a man grunted, giving a harsh smack to your ass as a thank you. You collapsed, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as you rearranged yourself on the bed. That sound was impossible to miss. He didn’t have a clue what it meant but he knew how it felt.

Your deflated lungs double knotted his guts. He glanced your way, tossing a towel your direction once he was done with it so you could clean up the mess he made of your back end. 

You managed, but rather than a dick drunk smile, your mind was visibly at work. That’s not what he’s used to, but usually he just sends bitches packing. He couldn’t do that with you, he didn’t want to do that with you, but he wasn’t sure what to do next. More importantly what to do about that pitiful look on your face. 

“Something up?” 

You giggled before you could stop yourself. You wanted this to work but you love yourself enough to know you wouldn’t be doing that for the rest of your life. You were mentally weaving through your thoughts on how exactly to go about this.

The male ego is a fragile thing, but nothing about Happy was fragile. 

“I think you’re used to this being all about you,” you chuckled, crawling back to the bed’s edge, “if you have it in you, maybe we can try again?” 

He stared at you, hard. Not once in all his years has he received criticism. But you, perfect little ol’ you managed to do it with a smile on your face.  

“You tellin’ me you didn’t get off?” 

You grabbed at the air, rushing because you didn’t have much time left. Pick up time was quickly approaching and you need some form of hope you could at least train him properly. 

“It’s okay, really! I’ll just walk you through it this time.” 

Oh, that stung. Based on the look in his eyes, you were convinced his ego would never recover. You’re half his age, he should be teaching you things. His experience should be all knowing, but you’re not just doubting his skills, you’re critiquing it. Calling him old without actually doing it, willing to help him learn skills he never gave a damn about before. He didn't really give a damn about much. If it wasn't tied to the kutte across the room, it wasn't worth it, but you are.

He took a long time with it. Thinking, calculating, trying to understand the situation for what it was. What went wrong and why. If he fucked it up and how to fix it, but he didn’t know any different. He gave you what he gives everyone, what he thought he does best. Quick and careless fun. His mind was racing but his whole body went stiff, visibly absent of the panic he was mentally working through. Steady breathing, frozen in place, and a lifeless stare fixed on your tits.

He stood defeated by your dresser like someone powered down your play toy before you even had a chance to have any real fun. 

“Just come here,” you whispered, tone softer, more serious. 

He didn’t move. Fuck he wanted to fix it, but he used the only condom in his wallet, and he knew better than to ask the girl who’s never brought another guy home if she had one. “I’m not about to baby trap you.” 

“We are so way past that,” you scoffed, crossing the room and pulling him back to the bed with slow sultry steps. You moved him like a doll, placed him at the edge, encouraged him to get comfortable, and then mounted that thing like a horse. 

“Now kiss me,” you whispered, and his mouth gapped open, “don’t swallow me, kiss me.” 

He pressed his to yours, softer, letting them linger. Yours moved first, parting gently as you resumed your movements. Rough hands traveled up and down your spine. Holding you, rocking you, following your lead.  Up, down, up, down. Consistently bouncing on his cock until deep groans thick with the pleasure he wasn’t even convinced was real poured into you.

Every part of you felt like a dream, the sticky wet heat morphing around him. The way your hips rolled, and your delicate touch held his face in your hands. His body felt alive. Every nerve was on fire, his heart beating out of his chest, balls so tight and he found himself holding his breath so he didn’t bust like a two-pump chump.

Your tongue swirled his mouth playfully, swallowing everything he was giving you while you gave him everything you had. Your moans became breathless, pleasure twisting in your gut until you were letting out high pitch sounds that were music to his ears. The way your walls clamped down around him was addictive. Each and every second you used him to chase that high, he was convinced your death grip sent him to heaven. His one and only taste of a place people like him don’t belong.

He saw the light and before he could stop it, or warn you at the least, he released. Thick, creamy, loads of warm cum sprayed your cervix and your body shuddered.

Your rhythm faltered and his hands smoothed down, a vicious grip to your hips that forced your body to keep going. Fucking his seed deeper with a smile on his face. One that was wide, toothy. A look so warm, and usually reserved for your little girl, but right now he was drunk on you. Star struck by the sensations you created with such simplicity. 

“That was so much better,” you giggled, kissing his face cheek to cheek. 

Your little girl has never squealed so loud, and admittedly, you were a little jealous. She rushed out the daycare doors to him. Right past you, no need to say goodbye to her teachers or friends, daddy was there and no one else existed. 

“Hello to you too,” you huffed, taking her bag, today's art project, and the juice cup with her name on it from the teacher. 

Little girl strapped in, daddy behind the wheel, domestic life felt good as a passenger princess.

The music played softly, and she was going off. She talked, the two of you listened. Talk talk talk talk, until she was all talked out. During that time he held your hand. Drove your car like he owned it and kept your fingers hostage with a grip so tight the tips of them were turning blue. Thumb dragging across the skin of your knuckles, circling at your ring finger like you wouldn’t notice something so obvious.

Once he got the both of you home, he locked the car doors as he got out, giving himself just enough time to make it to your side before you were able to unlock it and fling it open yourself. He helped you up and out, a gentle tap to your ass sending you towards the front door, insisting he could manage little girl just fine.

Which of course he did, you don’t get to see it often, but it is a well practiced routine. She helps to unbuckle herself, crawling out and up the tattooed body of quickly formed devotion.

Bag, baby, he stepped inside and quickly began making himself at home.

“You’re not staying?” 

His nose curled up, kutte already half stripped off, “huh?” 

“We’ve been on one date, you're not staying over with my daughter in the house.” 

He opened and closed his mouth three times. You were right, you were making sense, but he still didn’t like it. The way you continue to call her my as if he’s not standing right there. The fact you just gestured to the door like he wasn’t just making himself at home in your sheets less than an hour ago.

Getting put out like the damn dog. 

“We’re together.” 

“Yes, but I told you I’m not just diving in. Today was great but we still have a lot of things to work out.” 

“Fine,” he shrugged his kutte back on and you saw him change, hardening back up into the killer you know best. Tone dark, indisputable. “I want fifty-fifty till then.” 

You choked on air, tapping your chest absolutely stunned. “You’re not serious?”

He shrugged like it was nothing. No big deal asking for you to restructure her whole life to include him, it is already halfway done. “You said we’d work it out.”

“Yeah I meant like, getting to know each other, letting you pick her up from school by yourself. Not split custody! She’s not even y-”

“Stop saying that shit.” 

“Happy-”

“This shit ain’t a game.”

“No, it’s not!” You barked, stabbing his attitude with a vicious glare until he sat down and shut the hell up. “She is my child, Happy. Raising her is the single most important thing I will ever do and if we’re really doing this, we have to do it right.”

“I’m trying to.” 

“I know,” you tension you were holding dropped, head landing in your hands. You sat there quietly for a moment, rubbing your face, thinking it over. Each breath putting you back to somewhere levelheaded and calm. “You’re amazing with her, and I see you trying to take this seriously, but club life is so unpredictable and the risk-”

“We’re done hauling, working on getting out of guns next, that's what all this shit going on has been about.”

Your heart stopped, your breathing caught, and your mouth gaped open. Legitimizing the club would solve a plethora of issues. Limits risk, danger, the possibility of baggage reaching your doorstep. All your arguments die right there, because for you it’s not the club. It’s never been the club because for all their faults you love every single one of them. It’s the risks, the unknown, the possibility that one day he won’t come home.

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” you whispered, sizing him up this time. Old ladies do know things. They certainly know more than most, but you’re not an old lady. Not yet. No ring, no crow. Technically, you were just someone's kid. Some guy who died protecting the club you were actively watching fall apart. A club that this man in front of you would kill for, die for too if he had to, and he trusted that with you. 

“Did it help?” 

You sighed, fighting everything inside you to not immediately say yes. 

“We’re not doing fifty-fifty. She lives with me, but you can start coming over for dinner, bedtime, pick her up from daycare when you’re off early. Things like that.” 

“Can we bring her on our dates?”

“Dates? Plural?”

“How the hell else am I supposed to get you to marry me?”

“Careful, Happy…it sounds like you’re proposing.” 

He looked down at his rings. Mixes of gold and silver, and one more couldn’t hurt. If it makes whatever this is permanent. He wasn’t worried about it, not really, not until you tried to send him home after getting a taste of what it’s like to have it all. 

“I know what I want. Life’s slowing down, I’ve got the time for her, for you.”

“And you want this?” You gestured to the mess that was your life. Chaos at every corner. Dirty laundry piled high, clean laundry that you’ll never get around to folding without someone there to force your hand. Dishes in the sink, empty pizza boxes on the stove. Her toys like trip hazards covering every square inch of the living room floor, and the obnoxious sound of Mrs Rachel keeping her mesmerized at the center of it all. 

“Get your fucking ears checked.” 

You huffed, lighthearted, too amused to hide your body relaxing despite how rough his tone just came out. “Fine.” 

He cocked a brow, and you moved, putting yourself right in his lap, “you can stay.” 

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Your legs tremble, hiccuping, “Shit- mmph- I-I feel so full Si!”

“‘F course you do,” he snickers, his fat fingers grazing your tummy and pressing down at the his cock that’s bulging out, earning moans from the both of you, “Right where ‘m meant t’ be, huh baby?”

Your mouth is stuck in to shape of an ‘o’, both set or lips drooling as Simon rams himself in you. Watching the way your eyes rolls to the back of your back everytime he angles his hips so perfectly into your sticky sweet spots, almost hitting your head against the tile of the bathroom wall at how good you feel.

“Can’t believe this slutty pussy’s taken me so well in the mornin. Should have you makin this stupid fuckin face- hnngh- every. Fuckin. Day.” His words match every single of his mean thrusts.

You let out a ragged whine, trying to find some relief by pushing yourself into the wall but Simon only snickers, sinking his cock deeper in your snug depths, “Where ‘re you runnin off to?” He dips into the water, spreading your swollen folds wider with his thumb, dipping his thumb inside to his knuckle.

You yelp out, clawing at his shoulders, “Simon- angh! Simooon!”

“Shit- hck- Greedy fuckin thing, ‘s like your cunt only wants, more and more,” he sweetly purrs, stokes getting faster as he swiveled his hips into yours. Smirking down at you as he holds you tight, “and more.” You can feel the fucking bath water starting to slosh inside you as it splashes onto the floor with every thrust.

“Fuck- ‘s too much- aah- too much!” You mewl, shaking hands going down his chest to his dark happy trail. But you don’t have the strength to push him, your hips only sluttily bucking forward to meet his.

Simons saliva coated canines show more and more, lifting you to see how his dick disappears inside your pussy, the way you keep clenching and sputtering around him, “But look at how she’s suckin me in, doll. Fuckin cunny achin for me, poor thing.” He condescendingly coos.he shudders, “Lucky Daddy knows juuust how t’ take care of it.”

He spits down on your cunt, loud thwacks filling the bathroom, thumb rubbing your inner lining while he gives you harsh stroke after stroke.

You don’t even know you were keening, an ‘imcumminimcummingimcumm-’ till you felt the wetness of your own juices against Simons stomach, white cream coating Simon’s stiff dick. Your eyes are damp, the way Simons still rutting into your used cunt till his cum is filling your pretty pussy. Slipping out of you while his cum still spurts into the now dirty bath water.

The older man looks down at you, length still throbbing even though he’s cum once. His dark and gazed over eyes glance at the clock, then to you, who’s more than delirious, trembling and still whimpering like hes still inside your gaping hole, pressed against the bathroom tile. He lifts you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist, his dick pricking your thigh. “Still gotta go t’ tha bloody place, fuck.” He grumbles like it’s a curse, because it is. Who wouldn’t want to spend the day wrapped in your arms just like this with their lover. He let’s out a breath, stepping out of the bathtub and back to the bedroom. His rough had trails your spine, leaving soft kisses from your shoulder to your jaw, then giving you a filthy and wet kiss.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Think you could help me cum one more time lovie?”

“And your chest, er- your heartbeat, skin to skin— your baby wants to feel that closeness of a mother.”

There’s a sigh that erruppts from John’s lips, he’s trying here, obviously, but he can’t be— he won’t be able to be a mother- “That’s it again, you’re over thinking it. Just let the baby feel you’re there, stop being scared and hold ‘em close.” You whisper.

You begin to lift the baby off your chest, but John is quickly beside you, pressing the baby back into you as you sat on the chair, “They’ve just gone to sleep!”

You scuff, “And this is your child you have to learn to raise! Put your big girl pants on and man up!” You carefully lift the sleeping baby off of your chest, cause the baby to whimper out, already opening its mouth to wail again, but John quickly takes the little thing, pressing him right to his heart as you said.

No tears

The little thing, let’s put an adorable yawn, snuggling in close to the steady heartbeat of their father.

“And there you have it,” you grunt as you push off your knees, walking to the entry way to slip on your crocs, “I’m like the fuckin baby whisperer or some shit. Baby boss type shit.” Your mumble deliriously.

“Um-“ John clears his throat, rubbing the babies back in a circular motion as you once did, “Thank you, really it means a lot t’ me, well— us.”

You shrug, “‘S what neighbors are for, right?” You give him a small smile, before waving goodbye, softly shutting the door behind you.

and New Dad!John finally was able to sleep for a couple hours in a long time, dream filled with the baby and your soft coos.