uncle tigggyyyyy 🌶️ please tell me you have more planned for this else I fear I will simple cease existing x (your writing is fabulous I am immediately making my way through your masterlist)
word count: 0.71kish
CONTENT WARNING BAE THIS IS FUCKING MEAN AND NASTY. 18+. MDNI. nasty dbf trope. uncle!tiggy being uncle!tiggy. dacryphilia. degradation if you squint. plan b pills. breeding. finger sucking. uncle tiggy loves seeing his baby cry, but he loves watching her try and hold it together while he tells her to shut the fuck up. not proofread well. intentionally lowercase.
an: i am not kidding yall please if anything taboo triggers you do not move forward with reading this. my work is all disgusting and brain worm powered here and i am not your mommy. you are responsible for your media consumption. thank you for looking!!!!
the house was dark, the only lights on above the stove and out on the front porch. dishes were drying on the rack, dinner packed away in the fridge. to the outside world, it was a quiet night—but just down the hall in your bedroom, your right leg was hooked over his shoulder, his dark curls sticking to his neck and forehead, as he grunted, burying the rest of his length inside of you. your whimpers and cries filling the stale air that reeked of scotch, cigarettes and pussy. tears were bubbling up on your waterline. incoherent sounds rambling from your lips. and above you as his hips met yours, he was fucking mocking you. “look at this poor baby, fuckin’ cryin’ cause she’s so full of this cock, hm?” his stark blue eyes catch your even in the dark. his hand rising to cradle your jaw, the cold silver of his rings giving a light burn to your reddened cheeks. “c’mon baby, stop cryin’ fer me..know you can take it all. you always do.” there go his lips pressing themselves to yours.
you’re so overwhelmed a sob croaks out of you. “uncle tiggy, please…it’s t’much.” your eyes wrench shut as sobs continue to rack your body, your breathing uneven as he presses further into you.
he scoffs, “no it’s not.” the tip of his cock digging into your cervix moving his hand from your jaw to your belly, pressing down on the bottom of it so he can feel where he’s at. “buried so deep in there baby, c’mon you know it feels so good, tell uncle tiggy how good it feels right here.” he presses further, and you’re a moaning mess under him.
without warning, that tight coil in the pit of your stomach snapped, and your walls clenched around him repeatedly as you cam around his cock, your slick splattering against his dark pubic hairs. tig speeds his pace up, chasing his own high as you continue to bite your lip and sob through the rest of your orgasm.
your breath quickly catches in your throat when his fingers and palm lay on your throat, squeezing it a bit. “told you to quit that fuckin’ cryin’. not gonna tell you again.” he grits in your ear. you bite your lip so hard you taste fucking blood.
with a sputter of his hips and a groan out of his lips, tig ruts into you once more, fucking his release back into you. “should make this one fuckin’ take. fill you up for good.” his head crashes down onto your shoulder, as he pulls out and rolls next to you.
the tears are silently rolling down your cheeks as you hold the cries in your throat. seamlessly, an arm threads between your shoulder and the mattress, tugging you closer, a prickley kiss pressed to your temple. “s’okay baby, let it all out now. i gotcha.” he shushes you as the hot tears roll down your neck. “poor thing, huh? just cryin’ for cock. you got your fill, yea?”
after you calmed down and got cleaned up together, you’re sat on the counter in the kitchen wet hair sticking to the baggy samcro t-shirt you have on, and he’s fumbling with the packaging of the pill. “open.” he turns to you and you stick your tongue out for him to place the pill on the back of your tongue. his salty fingers dragging their way off of your tongue. next he’s offering you a drink of his scotch to chase the bitter taste out of your mouth.
he rubs your thigh after and extends his hand for you to grab the cigarette he's lit. you oblige and breathe in a drag of the deep tobacco smoke, blowing it out the side of your lips. “uncle tiggy come lay with me?” you hand it back to him and grab his hand that’s still stroking your skin.
“come sit with me out here.” he nods to the recliner, helping you down off of the counter, guiding you to the living room. he’s got some old movie on while his baby is perched in his lap, playing with his fingers. his fingers grazing your bottom lip where it's bruised from your teeth digging into the flesh, his thumb shoving it's way past your parted lips, for you to suck on. your eyes grow heavy and your head eventually nuzzles into his shoulder as you drift off to sleep in his lap.
remember when tig was turned around when ope took the last blow to his head? he does the same thing when you have to put your animals down at the vet. cannot watch them drift into a sleep. loves them too deep to watch them go. and has cheated death one too many times to continue to watch it happen. hes such a softie. has a huge portrait of your first dog together on his shoulder blade. there isn't a thing he wouldn't do for you or your fur babies.
saw that clip of jax yelling at tara telling her "you wanna be an ol lady? act like one. do what you're told." and i want you all to know i have THOUGHTS about how uncle!tiggy would handle it.
NEWAYSSSSSS. it's some petty ass argument. in the middle of their actual work day for the mechanic shop, you were handing him a new invoice and brought it up. wrong choice because it was NOT going your way, "i know you just wanna help, baby. but s'not safe. need ya to stay home." he brushes a piece of your hair behind your ear and presses his lips to your forehead.
you immediately go full brat. "doin' what gem fuckin' taught me. stand by your man. i'm fuckin' comin with and i'm fucking helping you." you shove him away.
tig hardly moves. "quit makin' a scene, goddammit. you're not goin' with & i'm done talkin' about it with you, go." he warns, hushed, and you have tears bubbling in your eyes, storming to the office.
it's not your fault, babygirl. everytime he leaves the poor guy is getting mauled by a fuckin' dog or worse. you just want to make sure your uncle tiggy comes back in one piece. you love him you can't help it.
it's the end of the night and the guys are all rolling out from church. you serve everyone their drinks, and step out for a smoke.
your ass is parked on the table of the picnic bench, feet resting on the seat as you take a long drag and look out at the parked bikes, noting the bell hanging from the back of tig's that you gifted him the first christmas after your dad passed when he stepped up to help you.
you hear the door open, and don't even move.
"you done poutin'?" speak of the devil.
"not talkin' to you, alex." you flicked the ash from the end of the cigarette.
"c'mon sugar, don't do me like that." he squats in front of you to make you look at him. "you know i'd take ya with me if it was safe. but it's not and it's not just for me; it's for the club. you know the rules. askin' for trouble to happen if i take ya. need you to hold the fort down at home til i come back. can you be a good girl & do that for me?" his ring clad fingers are brushing your bare calves.
you sigh and flick the cigarette to the ground. a slow nod.
"you wanna go home?" he stands up a hand out to grab yours.
another nod. "m'sorry uncle tiggy," you rise to your feet and he helps you step down and your arms are around his torso in a second, your head pressed into his chest.
"s'okay baby." he assures you and presses his lips to the top of your head, smoothing your hair down with his free hand that isn't holding onto your waist.
in a few hours you won't even remember why you were mad at him. uncle tiggy always makes time to love on his sweet baby. especially before he leaves.
uncle!tiggy who does NOT tolerate someone talking crazy to his baby's face. and little ole you who was taught by everyone in that club house to stand on fuckin' business. and you do. especially for uncle tiggy.
you're checking this customer out near the office, reviewing everything that was done to the car. the guys are just within earshot bullshitting while you wrap up their final deal of the day.
when you get to the price, the guy starts to get mouthy with you. you keep your cool explaining the breakdown of the cost for parts, shipping & labor for the boys in the shop.
"an' i supposed their fuckin' counter girl wants a god damn tip on top of that? get fucked!" the man is loud now and the shop falls silent.
before you can even finish registering what was said to you, tig is in between you and the man. "there a problem over here?"
"yea this bill for my car is fuckin' ridiculous, not payin' fer anyuh this shit." he tossed the bill at tig.
"this comin' from the guy who dropped a fuckin' porsche off at the shop? i mean, we can getcha a nice payment plan." (there is no payment plan this man is getting his shit rocked until he coughs the money over) tig holds the bill, and slips it back to you as you step out from around him to file it away.
"look grandpa, i'm not payin' shit! fuck you & fuck this chop shop, you've got a bunch of fuckin' felons workin' in here my shit is probably fried." okay so it's now clear this guy has no fucking idea who the sons are or what's about to happen to him. the guys are all circling a little closer ready to brawl, but just before uncle tiggy can jump rip his head off—
you've got your fists clenched around your 3 hole punch machine from the desk and swing it across the back of the man's head. as his body crumbles to the ground you spit at him, "no one. calls him grandpa, asshole."
