helluvaoutlaw

[helluvaoutlaw]

❤️💛 Not going to lie: One of the biggest reasons I'm hoping to see Paimon and Vassago in a scene together, is just to hear Paimon say, "Calm yourself, Vassago." 🤣

[helluvaoutlaw]

((So cool.))

Idk why, even tho I know they can use magic, but it never hit me that they could turn into actual hellhounds x3

[helluvaoutlaw]

Lucky sighed deeply, his hand pausing for a moment on Saloon’s back before resuming its gentle motion. His eyes flicked to Coronis, soft yet burning with frustration at the thought of her family.

“Her parents’ll check, Sal. They’ve got eyes everywhere, and her siblings? Andrealphus and Stella? Hell, they’re worse than a pair of leeches.”

His jaw tightened briefly, his usual calm slipping into irritation.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” he added, his voice dropping into a low growl. “Wipin’ the slate clean, makin’ sure Cori never has to deal with their psychotic controlling asses again. But...”

He took a steadying breath, his gaze softening as he glanced between them.

“She don’t want that. And as much as I hate seein’ her shackled to their mess, I won’t do anything she don’t want.” He reached out to brush a stray feather from her cheek, his touch tender. “We’ll figure somethin’ out, but it’s gotta be her call, not ours.”

He clenched his jaw for a moment.

"I still don't understand why you don't want me to just kill 'em. They're treatin' ya worse than trash, you have a curfew, you have no freedom at all..."

@second-wife-playbook

Lucky shifted closer, his warmth a steadying presence as he let his arm drape over Saloon’s side, his hand finding its way to his back.

Slowly, he began to rub gentle circles, his touch calm and unhurried, an invitation to let go of the tension coiled within.

“Yeah, this is it,” Lucky murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring. “Ain’t much to it. Just...bein’ close. Feelin’ safe.” He gave a light squeeze to Saloon’s shoulder, his thumb brushing along the fabric of his sleepwear.

“You don’t gotta do anything, Sal. Just let yourself be here with us. That’s enough.”

Lucky’s tone carried no judgment, only kindness, as he nestled himself more comfortably into the blankets.

"Don't know 'bout y'all, but I'm gettin' sleepy..."

He purred in content.

@second-wife-playbook

[helluvaoutlaw]

New AU: Kingpin Striker

From the amazing artist @fatuaanser

I will be writing up a bio for this man, but in shorts, instead of going into the killing business, Kingpin Striker focused on the underbelly of Hell and the ways of information.

Skirting VOX channels, he'd use newspapers and slowly gain more power and money, buying out paper businesses and printing companies and building up his media empire into all rings. Newspapers were so overlooked and not bothered with secret messages and codes could easily be hidden in them, making them the go-to for killers, assassins, informants, and undercover agents to get their news and orders.

He holds a public position as owner of Striker's Media and has dealings in every ring, from simple advertisements for clubs and local news to hidden messages in advertisements for specific players in a criminal organization.

He isn't officially the ruler of the underbelly, but he's the major player that no one would dare to cross, lest they don't mind their dirty laundry being aired out for their enemies.

[helluvaoutlaw]

.

Striker’s breaths came in ragged, heated pants as he buried himself deeper, his pace relentless and driven by her every gasp and moan.

“Hhh-ahh…darlin’,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire, “y-you’re squeezin’ me so tight…nghh—”

A low growl rumbled from his throat as her claws raked his back, the mix of pain and pleasure only spurring him on. His hips snapped harder, his breath hitching with every thrust.

“C-can’t…hold back,” he choked out, biting down on his lip to muffle a guttural moan.

“Ahh—hahhh…love you too, Cori… s-so damn much,” he gasped, his face pressing into her shoulder as he fought to keep quiet, though the slick sound of their bodies moving together echoed softly in the room.

“Hhh—mmph! Gonna…nghh… make ya mine all over again, darlin’…”

Each word was punctuated with the sharp, needy slap of his hips, his tail coiling possessively around her thigh as he felt her trembling beneath him.

"Gonna—ahhh!—take ya right over the edge with me, sweetheart."

@helluvaoutlaw

With Sinsmas only two weeks away, Coronis had been excited to set up the family for their first Sinsmas together.

She was still mindful of finances. Even with a good savings pocket and regular income, now buoyed by her able to sell her small-batch alcohol products, she was careful to set a clear budget for gifts. For herself at least. Striker had his own money, and would likely spent it as he wished. But where the household and farm was concerned, Coronis was very cautious not to overshoot.

However, there was a good first sign. She had sold four crates to the local saloon, and three to the grocery in town to sell behind the counter. The grocery had sold out, and the saloon had turned down multiple offers to buy bottles full out, citing the need to save them for their mixed drinks and shots.

Coronis had a waiting list of locals wanting bottles for their shelves, and double the amount being brewed for next time.

So that meant there was money for an extra special Sinsmas meal, presents, and a holiday bonus for Virgil and Flint. Though she wasn't sure if they were going to be staying with family for the holidays, she trusted her husband to catch up on all the necessary work with the horses before they left.

At the very least, it was a warmer Sinsmas. Holidays back home would be frigid...because Andrealphus would host in his ice palace and Coronis would near freeze as winter was laid atop the already frozen household. In fact, it never dropped below fifty degrees, at worst. Nighttime was colder of course, but not by much.

Walker and Match were crawling. Their tails seemed to be getting more agile along with their little legs and arms too. As Coronis sat with them on the rug in the living room, making a few last details on handmade hat for Burt (the inner brim lined with an iron plate to protect him from...mole people, she thinks?), she watched them work out their little bodies. Their tails liked to grab on to things, and Match was quite insistent on trying to drag as many toys with him as possible, twining his tail and grunting as he tried to manage the weight.

Walker was still...slow to start. His tail was hugging his little stuffed crow tightly, but he only scooted in short bursts, and seemed more fascinated watching his twin brother go at it with endless energy.

[helluvaoutlaw]

.

Striker’s breaths came in ragged, heated pants as he buried himself deeper, his pace relentless and driven by her every gasp and moan. “Hhh-ahh…darlin’,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire, “y-you’re squeezin’ me so tight…nghh—”

A low growl rumbled from his throat as her claws raked his back, the mix of pain and pleasure only spurring him on. His hips snapped harder, his breath hitching with every thrust.

“C-can’t…hold back,” he choked out, biting down on his lip to muffle a guttural moan.

“Ahh—hahhh… love you too, Cori… s-so damn much,” he gasped, his face pressing into her shoulder as he fought to keep quiet, though the slick sound of their bodies moving together echoed softly in the room.

“Hhh—mmph! Gonna…nghh… make ya mine all over again, darlin’…”

Each word was punctuated with the sharp, needy slap of his hips, his tail coiling possessively around her thigh as he felt her trembling beneath him.

"Gonna—ahhh!—take ya right over the edge with me, sweetheart."

@helluvaoutlaw

With Sinsmas only two weeks away, Coronis had been excited to set up the family for their first Sinsmas together.

She was still mindful of finances. Even with a good savings pocket and regular income, now buoyed by her able to sell her small-batch alcohol products, she was careful to set a clear budget for gifts. For herself at least. Striker had his own money, and would likely spent it as he wished. But where the household and farm was concerned, Coronis was very cautious not to overshoot.

However, there was a good first sign. She had sold four crates to the local saloon, and three to the grocery in town to sell behind the counter. The grocery had sold out, and the saloon had turned down multiple offers to buy bottles full out, citing the need to save them for their mixed drinks and shots.

Coronis had a waiting list of locals wanting bottles for their shelves, and double the amount being brewed for next time.

So that meant there was money for an extra special Sinsmas meal, presents, and a holiday bonus for Virgil and Flint. Though she wasn't sure if they were going to be staying with family for the holidays, she trusted her husband to catch up on all the necessary work with the horses before they left.

At the very least, it was a warmer Sinsmas. Holidays back home would be frigid...because Andrealphus would host in his ice palace and Coronis would near freeze as winter was laid atop the already frozen household. In fact, it never dropped below fifty degrees, at worst. Nighttime was colder of course, but not by much.

Walker and Match were crawling. Their tails seemed to be getting more agile along with their little legs and arms too. As Coronis sat with them on the rug in the living room, making a few last details on handmade hat for Burt (the inner brim lined with an iron plate to protect him from...mole people, she thinks?), she watched them work out their little bodies. Their tails liked to grab on to things, and Match was quite insistent on trying to drag as many toys with him as possible, twining his tail and grunting as he tried to manage the weight.

Walker was still...slow to start. His tail was hugging his little stuffed crow tightly, but he only scooted in short bursts, and seemed more fascinated watching his twin brother go at it with endless energy.

[helluvaoutlaw]

((Oh cool! Thanks!))

((Hey, do you guys think we're going to get more helluva shorts between the finale and season 3?))

[helluvaoutlaw]

((Hey, do you guys think we're going to get more helluva shorts between the finale and season 3?))

[helluvaoutlaw]

((So.

The finale was, uh....

A lot.

I won't say anything else, no spoilers from me, don't worry, just...

Wow.))

[helluvaoutlaw]

.

Striker let out a low, muffled groan as he buried his face into Cori’s soft, fluffy breasts, trying to stifle the noises threatening to spill from his throat.

Her warmth, the way she clenched around him, it all drove him wild, making it damn near impossible to stay quiet.

“D-Darlin’...honey...”

He whispered against her skin, his voice shaky with pleasure as he picked up his rhythm, thrusting deeper and more deliberately.

“You feel so good…so damn good, I—”

His words were cut off by another muffled moan, his lips pressing kisses to her chest in an attempt to keep quiet.

His hands slid up her sides, one tangling in her hair while the other gripped her waist tightly, guiding her to meet his thrusts.

“Can’t…keep this up much longer,” he admitted breathlessly, his movements becoming more erratic. “Oh Satan, oh fuck, nnnhh...You drive me crazy, Cori.”

@helluvaoutlaw

With Sinsmas only two weeks away, Coronis had been excited to set up the family for their first Sinsmas together.

She was still mindful of finances. Even with a good savings pocket and regular income, now buoyed by her able to sell her small-batch alcohol products, she was careful to set a clear budget for gifts. For herself at least. Striker had his own money, and would likely spent it as he wished. But where the household and farm was concerned, Coronis was very cautious not to overshoot.

However, there was a good first sign. She had sold four crates to the local saloon, and three to the grocery in town to sell behind the counter. The grocery had sold out, and the saloon had turned down multiple offers to buy bottles full out, citing the need to save them for their mixed drinks and shots.

Coronis had a waiting list of locals wanting bottles for their shelves, and double the amount being brewed for next time.

So that meant there was money for an extra special Sinsmas meal, presents, and a holiday bonus for Virgil and Flint. Though she wasn't sure if they were going to be staying with family for the holidays, she trusted her husband to catch up on all the necessary work with the horses before they left.

At the very least, it was a warmer Sinsmas. Holidays back home would be frigid...because Andrealphus would host in his ice palace and Coronis would near freeze as winter was laid atop the already frozen household. In fact, it never dropped below fifty degrees, at worst. Nighttime was colder of course, but not by much.

Walker and Match were crawling. Their tails seemed to be getting more agile along with their little legs and arms too. As Coronis sat with them on the rug in the living room, making a few last details on handmade hat for Burt (the inner brim lined with an iron plate to protect him from...mole people, she thinks?), she watched them work out their little bodies. Their tails liked to grab on to things, and Match was quite insistent on trying to drag as many toys with him as possible, twining his tail and grunting as he tried to manage the weight.

Walker was still...slow to start. His tail was hugging his little stuffed crow tightly, but he only scooted in short bursts, and seemed more fascinated watching his twin brother go at it with endless energy.

[helluvaoutlaw]

.

Striker couldn’t help the satisfied growl rumbling deep in his chest as he lapped at her folds like a dog, savoring every shiver and muffled cry she gave him.

His hands squeezed her soft flesh, fingers digging in just enough to keep her still against his mouth.

“Oh, oh my, sugar,” he murmured between licks, voice low and teasing, “ya taste so damn good, I could do this all night...but I reckon I’m owed my reward now.”

He pulled back, his lips and chin glistening as his lit, yellow eyes locked on hers, full of heat and mischief.

Straightening up, he grinned wickedly, his throbbing cock standing proud and ready.

“Now, darlin’, let’s see just how much you missed me...”

His tail coiled around her waist to pull her closer, guiding her hips toward him as he positioned himself, the anticipation making his whole body hum with need.

Striker let out a deep, shuddering sigh as he guided himself into her, the heat and tightness making his body tremble with pleasure. He moved carefully at first, easing into her inch by inch but with no hesitation, his hands gripping her hips to hold her steady.

“Ahh, Cori...” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “You feel... perfect, darlin’.”

Once he was fully seated inside her, he paused to let her adjust, brushing a tender kiss to her forehead. His tail wrapped around her thigh, holding her close as he began to move, slow and deliberate, savoring every sensation as if it had been years instead of weeks.

“Missed this...s-so fuckin' much, oh God–” he muttered against her skin, his movements gradually picking up pace. “Hhh...Missed you...”

@helluvaoutlaw

With Sinsmas only two weeks away, Coronis had been excited to set up the family for their first Sinsmas together.

She was still mindful of finances. Even with a good savings pocket and regular income, now buoyed by her able to sell her small-batch alcohol products, she was careful to set a clear budget for gifts. For herself at least. Striker had his own money, and would likely spent it as he wished. But where the household and farm was concerned, Coronis was very cautious not to overshoot.

However, there was a good first sign. She had sold four crates to the local saloon, and three to the grocery in town to sell behind the counter. The grocery had sold out, and the saloon had turned down multiple offers to buy bottles full out, citing the need to save them for their mixed drinks and shots.

Coronis had a waiting list of locals wanting bottles for their shelves, and double the amount being brewed for next time.

So that meant there was money for an extra special Sinsmas meal, presents, and a holiday bonus for Virgil and Flint. Though she wasn't sure if they were going to be staying with family for the holidays, she trusted her husband to catch up on all the necessary work with the horses before they left.

At the very least, it was a warmer Sinsmas. Holidays back home would be frigid...because Andrealphus would host in his ice palace and Coronis would near freeze as winter was laid atop the already frozen household. In fact, it never dropped below fifty degrees, at worst. Nighttime was colder of course, but not by much.

Walker and Match were crawling. Their tails seemed to be getting more agile along with their little legs and arms too. As Coronis sat with them on the rug in the living room, making a few last details on handmade hat for Burt (the inner brim lined with an iron plate to protect him from...mole people, she thinks?), she watched them work out their little bodies. Their tails liked to grab on to things, and Match was quite insistent on trying to drag as many toys with him as possible, twining his tail and grunting as he tried to manage the weight.

Walker was still...slow to start. His tail was hugging his little stuffed crow tightly, but he only scooted in short bursts, and seemed more fascinated watching his twin brother go at it with endless energy.

[helluvaoutlaw]

.

Striker let out a low, rumbling chuckle as he felt her legs urging his pants down.

“Missed it too, darlin’...every second.”

He drawled, voice dripping with need.

Kicking away his jeans and underwear in one swift motion, he spread her thighs wide, his snake eyes gleaming with raw hunger.

“Can’t wait no longer, Cori, you're drivin' me crazy...”

He purred, his forked tongue flicking out with a wicked grin before diving between her legs like a starving man at a feast.

His lips latched onto her, his tongue teasing and swirling, savoring every reaction, every taste, as if she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Damn, sugar...you’re sweeter than the forbidden fruit.”

Striker murmured between heated kisses against her core, his tail coiling possessively around her leg to keep her exactly where he wanted her, while his hands groped and massaged her ass.

@helluvaoutlaw

With Sinsmas only two weeks away, Coronis had been excited to set up the family for their first Sinsmas together.

She was still mindful of finances. Even with a good savings pocket and regular income, now buoyed by her able to sell her small-batch alcohol products, she was careful to set a clear budget for gifts. For herself at least. Striker had his own money, and would likely spent it as he wished. But where the household and farm was concerned, Coronis was very cautious not to overshoot.

However, there was a good first sign. She had sold four crates to the local saloon, and three to the grocery in town to sell behind the counter. The grocery had sold out, and the saloon had turned down multiple offers to buy bottles full out, citing the need to save them for their mixed drinks and shots.

Coronis had a waiting list of locals wanting bottles for their shelves, and double the amount being brewed for next time.

So that meant there was money for an extra special Sinsmas meal, presents, and a holiday bonus for Virgil and Flint. Though she wasn't sure if they were going to be staying with family for the holidays, she trusted her husband to catch up on all the necessary work with the horses before they left.

At the very least, it was a warmer Sinsmas. Holidays back home would be frigid...because Andrealphus would host in his ice palace and Coronis would near freeze as winter was laid atop the already frozen household. In fact, it never dropped below fifty degrees, at worst. Nighttime was colder of course, but not by much.

Walker and Match were crawling. Their tails seemed to be getting more agile along with their little legs and arms too. As Coronis sat with them on the rug in the living room, making a few last details on handmade hat for Burt (the inner brim lined with an iron plate to protect him from...mole people, she thinks?), she watched them work out their little bodies. Their tails liked to grab on to things, and Match was quite insistent on trying to drag as many toys with him as possible, twining his tail and grunting as he tried to manage the weight.

Walker was still...slow to start. His tail was hugging his little stuffed crow tightly, but he only scooted in short bursts, and seemed more fascinated watching his twin brother go at it with endless energy.

[helluvaoutlaw]

.

Striker growled softly, his grin widening as her sweet sounds spurred him on.

“Darlin’, you got no idea how much I love hearin’ ya like that...”

He murmured, his voice rough and thick with desire.

In one swift motion, he shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside, his chest and abs flexing under the firelight.

His hands went straight to his belt, yanking it loose and unzipping his jeans with quick, eager movements.

“Been too damn long, Cori.”

He breathed, his tail still teasing her, drawing out those beautiful gasps.

The ex hitman leaned back over her, his lips brushing her ear as his jeans slid down.

“Tonight, you’re gettin’ all of me, sugar. Every damn bit.”

He promised, his tone both tender and hungry.

@helluvaoutlaw

With Sinsmas only two weeks away, Coronis had been excited to set up the family for their first Sinsmas together.

She was still mindful of finances. Even with a good savings pocket and regular income, now buoyed by her able to sell her small-batch alcohol products, she was careful to set a clear budget for gifts. For herself at least. Striker had his own money, and would likely spent it as he wished. But where the household and farm was concerned, Coronis was very cautious not to overshoot.

However, there was a good first sign. She had sold four crates to the local saloon, and three to the grocery in town to sell behind the counter. The grocery had sold out, and the saloon had turned down multiple offers to buy bottles full out, citing the need to save them for their mixed drinks and shots.

Coronis had a waiting list of locals wanting bottles for their shelves, and double the amount being brewed for next time.

So that meant there was money for an extra special Sinsmas meal, presents, and a holiday bonus for Virgil and Flint. Though she wasn't sure if they were going to be staying with family for the holidays, she trusted her husband to catch up on all the necessary work with the horses before they left.

At the very least, it was a warmer Sinsmas. Holidays back home would be frigid...because Andrealphus would host in his ice palace and Coronis would near freeze as winter was laid atop the already frozen household. In fact, it never dropped below fifty degrees, at worst. Nighttime was colder of course, but not by much.

Walker and Match were crawling. Their tails seemed to be getting more agile along with their little legs and arms too. As Coronis sat with them on the rug in the living room, making a few last details on handmade hat for Burt (the inner brim lined with an iron plate to protect him from...mole people, she thinks?), she watched them work out their little bodies. Their tails liked to grab on to things, and Match was quite insistent on trying to drag as many toys with him as possible, twining his tail and grunting as he tried to manage the weight.

Walker was still...slow to start. His tail was hugging his little stuffed crow tightly, but he only scooted in short bursts, and seemed more fascinated watching his twin brother go at it with endless energy.

[helluvaoutlaw]

Striker’s jaw tightened as Blitzø stepped closer, his movements deliberate, too familiar for comfort. He kept his golden gaze locked on the horizon, the faint glow of Hell’s fires flickering in the distance.

He didn’t flinch when Blitzø’s hand pressed against his chest, but the weight of it burned worse than any flame he’d ever known.

When Blitzø sighed and let his hand fall away, Striker’s eyes dropped to the packet of money. His tail lashed behind him, a sharp crack against the wood, as his hand shot out, snatching the cash. He shoved it back into Blitzø’s chest, the force just shy of a shove.

"Don’t insult me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I ain’t no thief, and I ain’t takin’ payment for a job I ain’t done yet. That ain’t how I work."

He turned back to the horizon, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. The faintest flicker of doubt passed through his mind—not about the job, but about what would happen if he didn’t make it back. His thoughts went to Bombproof, the only soul he trusted, the only one who’d never left him, no matter how bad things got.

"If this all goes south," he said after a long silence, his tone steady but edged with something raw, "you leave Bombproof outta this. You hear me? He don’t deserve whatever mess might come of this. You make sure he’s taken care of."

He finally turned to face Blitzø, his expression cold and hard, but his eyes betrayed the faintest crack in his armor.

"I don’t need you savin’ me, Blitzø. I can handle myself. Always have. Always will. But I gave you my word, so I’ll be here tomorrow. One job, and we’re done. After that, you stay outta my life. For good."

Striker stepped back, his boots creaking against the worn porch. His tail flicked again, sharp and restless, before he turned away entirely, heading for the stable where Bombproof waited. The thought of leaving her behind gnawed at him, but he pushed it down, burying it deep.

He wasn’t about to let Blitzø see that crack grow any wider.

Striker sat there, stone-faced, his reptile, yellow eyes boring into Blitzø as he rambled on.

The mention of Bombproof made his tail flick, the only sign that he was listening at all.

But as Blitzø kept talking, laying it all out—angelic lineage, tangling with some celestial-trained maniac, going topside together—the words barely registered.

What stuck was that damn word: maybe.

Striker’s jaw tightened. His hands clenched into fists on the table, claws biting into his palms just enough to ground himself. That word churned in his head like a bitter taste on his tongue, dragging up things he thought he’d buried.

Blitzø had no right—no damn right—to toss that out there. Not after the way he’d left things. Not after the explosion, after all the scars Striker carried now, inside and out.

His heart twisted, throbbing with a pain he hated. A part of him screamed to let Blitzø walk out that door, to stay buried in the anger and the hate that had kept him going all this time.

But the other part—the part he despised—whispered about the maybe too. About what might’ve been if things had been different.

Striker cursed under his breath, so low it was barely audible.

"Damn you, Blitzø..." he muttered, his voice rough with a mix of anger and something he wouldn’t dare name.

He stared at the phone on the table for a long moment after Blitzø stood up. The saloon noise returned, but it was distant, like it belonged to another world.

He needed the money—that was the logical part, the part that kept him alive all these years. But the rest of him? The rest of him didn’t give a damn about the job.

With a growl low in his throat, Striker pushed back from the table, standing abruptly.

He grabbed his guitar, slinging it over his shoulder, and strode toward the door. Each step felt heavier than the last, like the weight of this decision might crush him.

As he reached the porch, he saw Blitzø waiting, his silhouette outlined by the glow of the Wrath ring’s endless firelight. Striker stopped just inside the doorway, his hand resting on the frame, his voice low but sharp as a blade.

"You’re lucky I’m low on cash, Blitzø," he said, his tone cold, though it didn’t hide the faint tremor beneath.

"Just this one job."

He stepped out onto the porch, his boots thudding against the worn wood, his tail rattling once, a dangerous punctuation to his words.

"You get in my way, or you pull some shit like last time, I swear, I’ll leave you in worse shape than you left me."

Striker didn’t wait for a response. He crossed his arms, staring out at the horizon, his back to Blitzø, as if to say the conversation was over. But he was still there.

Still listening.

[helluvaoutlaw]

Little sneaky cake stealers 🍰

[helluvaoutlaw]

Lucky shifted closer, his warmth a steadying presence as he let his arm drape over Saloon’s side, his hand finding its way to his back.

Slowly, he began to rub gentle circles, his touch calm and unhurried, an invitation to let go of the tension coiled within.

“Yeah, this is it,” Lucky murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring. “Ain’t much to it. Just...bein’ close. Feelin’ safe.” He gave a light squeeze to Saloon’s shoulder, his thumb brushing along the fabric of his sleepwear.

“You don’t gotta do anything, Sal. Just let yourself be here with us. That’s enough.”

Lucky’s tone carried no judgment, only kindness, as he nestled himself more comfortably into the blankets.

"Don't know 'bout y'all, but I'm gettin' sleepy..."

He purred in content.

@second-wife-playbook

Lucky sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to tug off his boots with ease, a playful glint in his eye as he glanced up at Saloon.

“Don’t stress so much, Sal,” he murmured with a wink, his voice light and soothing.

He swung his legs onto the mattress and shifted closer, settling in beside them with practiced ease. The blankets were drawn up, and Lucky made sure to pull them snug over all three of them, his arm sliding around them both in a gesture that was as natural as breathing.

“There we go,” he said softly, his voice a comforting hum as he rested his head on the pillow. “Ain’t nothin’ to overthink here. Just us three, nice and warm. You’re doin’ just fine.”

Lucky gave Saloon’s arm a reassuring squeeze, a gentle reminder that he belonged here just as much as the rest of them.

@second-wife-playbook

[helluvaoutlaw]

.

Striker grinned wickedly as her hands roamed over him, a spark of pride gleaming in his yellow eyes.

“See, darlin’? Told ya I’d keep myself in shape for ya.”

He purred, his tone deep and teasing as her kisses trailed over his skin.

With ease, he picked her up, holding her close as he lowered them onto the soft fur carpet. The warm glow of the fire bathed them in light, and the positioning gave them the perfect amount of cover.

His tail tip slithered its way beneath her dress, curling with purpose. As his hands tugged her panties down, his smirk deepened, savoring every second of her reactions.

“Ya feelin’ that, sugar?”

He purred again, the tail tip starting to rub her sensitive spot, teasing and deliberate.

"Daddy's goin' to take good care of you tonight~"

One hand squeezed her ass with possessive affection, while the other supported her back, bringing her close enough for his lips to find her breast. He kissed and nipped tenderly, his breath warm against her skin.

Oh Satan it has been too long.

@helluvaoutlaw

With Sinsmas only two weeks away, Coronis had been excited to set up the family for their first Sinsmas together.

She was still mindful of finances. Even with a good savings pocket and regular income, now buoyed by her able to sell her small-batch alcohol products, she was careful to set a clear budget for gifts. For herself at least. Striker had his own money, and would likely spent it as he wished. But where the household and farm was concerned, Coronis was very cautious not to overshoot.

However, there was a good first sign. She had sold four crates to the local saloon, and three to the grocery in town to sell behind the counter. The grocery had sold out, and the saloon had turned down multiple offers to buy bottles full out, citing the need to save them for their mixed drinks and shots.

Coronis had a waiting list of locals wanting bottles for their shelves, and double the amount being brewed for next time.

So that meant there was money for an extra special Sinsmas meal, presents, and a holiday bonus for Virgil and Flint. Though she wasn't sure if they were going to be staying with family for the holidays, she trusted her husband to catch up on all the necessary work with the horses before they left.

At the very least, it was a warmer Sinsmas. Holidays back home would be frigid...because Andrealphus would host in his ice palace and Coronis would near freeze as winter was laid atop the already frozen household. In fact, it never dropped below fifty degrees, at worst. Nighttime was colder of course, but not by much.

Walker and Match were crawling. Their tails seemed to be getting more agile along with their little legs and arms too. As Coronis sat with them on the rug in the living room, making a few last details on handmade hat for Burt (the inner brim lined with an iron plate to protect him from...mole people, she thinks?), she watched them work out their little bodies. Their tails liked to grab on to things, and Match was quite insistent on trying to drag as many toys with him as possible, twining his tail and grunting as he tried to manage the weight.

Walker was still...slow to start. His tail was hugging his little stuffed crow tightly, but he only scooted in short bursts, and seemed more fascinated watching his twin brother go at it with endless energy.