MyaKiki

“With?” You asked, watching her carefully.

“Ronnie.” She blushes as she looks at the floor.

“Oh, Ronnie, huh? And who is this Ronnie?”

“Someone from school.” Her cheeks turn a deeper shade of red.

“Sure!” you say, a little too enthused that she should have seen it coming.

Her face lights up. “I can?”

“Of course! Where are we going?”

She frowns, puzzled. “Um… the movies?”

“Oh, what are we seeing?”

“Uhhh, no, Mom.”

“I don’t know that one. What’s it about?”

She groans. “No, I mean just me and Ronnie, not you.”

“Absolutely not. You are not going out alone on a date.” You say firmly.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.”

“But Mom!”

“Look, my parents didn’t let me go on dates without a chaperone, and you can bet I’m not letting you either.”

“Mom, but that was forever ago! Times are different now. And it’s Valentine’s Day!” she pouts.

“Ay! It wasn’t that long ago,” you’re half-offended, half-amused.

“No! Everyone’s going to make fun of me if you come along!” she whines.

You’re torn between your protective instincts and her plea. “I don’t know, Mel…”

“Please, Mom. Ronnie’s got a car, so you don’t even have to drive me!”

Your eyes widen. Oh no. A car? That does nothing to reassure you. “Fine. You can go,” you say reluctantly.

“Yes! Thank you, Mom!”

“But you need to be home by 10. Not 10:30, not 10:01. Ten o’clock. Got it?”

“Yes, I promise!” she says, hugging you. “I have to find something to wear!” She rushes off, phone in hand. From her room, you hear her squeal, “She said yes!”

You sigh and grab your phone. Your instincts still scream no, and you know exactly who to call for backup.

The phone rings twice before a your favorite voice answers. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Riz, I need a favor.”

“Anything for you. What’s going on?”

“Mel’s got a date. Some kid named Ronnie. He’s got a car.”

Riz chuckles. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah, I know, exactly. I need you to come over and scare the bejeezus outta of him.”

“Want me to break his legs?” he teases.

“God, no! Just… make sure he knows what’ll happen if he disrespects my baby.”

“Yeah, I gotcha’,” he promises.

You hang up, heart fluttering despite the situation. Riz has always been there when you need him, ever since you met through a mutual friend a couple of years ago. Beneath his tough-guy image with the long dark hair, tattoos, and the rumble of his motorcycle, hides a heart of gold. Lately, he’s been more than just a friend. Ever since Christmas, when he gave you the most unexpected and thoughtful gift you’d ever received in your life, you friendship had taken a turn, transforming into something more promising, though you’re still figuring it out.

When 6 pm comes there’s a knock on your door, eagerly you rush to answer knowing exactly who it is. Riz, right on time. His long, dark hair is loose just the way you like it. His tattoos are visible under the sleeves of his jacket, and his boots thud heavily on the floor as he steps inside. Despite his tough demeanor, his dark eyes soften when they meet yours, and you feel the familiar flutter in your chest.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low with just a hint of mischief. “Ready to scare the fuck out this kid?”

“Thanks for coming,” you reply, giving him a small smile.

“Always,” he says, brushing his hair back with one hand. His fingers are calloused, but his touch, when it briefly brushes yours, is gentle. The chemistry between you feels electric, but before you can linger on it, Mel appears in the hallway.

“Who’s at the—oh my God, why is he here?”

“Your Tio Riz came to see you off.”

“Yeah, your Tio wouldn’t miss this milestone,” Riz says, smirking.

Mel rolls her eyes. “Seriously, Mom?”

You just smile sweetly. “Go finish getting ready.”

As Riz settles in, you update him on the situation while he cracks his knuckles and rehearses intimidating one liners. “So, what’s the plan? Leather-jacket death glare? Maybe a little ‘don’t mess with my family’ speech?” he asks, grinning.

“Let’s start with a death glare and go from there,” you reply.

When the doorbell rings, Riz gets into position. He strides to the door, hair falling into his face in an almost theatrical way, and swings it open with an air of authority. But the intimidating words he had planned die in his throat when he sees who’s standing there.

Ronnie isn’t what either of you expected. She’s a petite girl with pink glasses that frame her big, brown eyes. Her long unruly hair falls about an inch over her shoulders. She’s holding a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. Her nerdy yet adorable appearance is disarming, and her shy smile was definitely not would either of you had expected and it shows on your faces.

“Hi, I’m Veronica,” she says softly. “but everyone calls me Ronnie.”

Riz stares for a moment, clearly thrown off, before stepping aside. “Uh… come in.” Then he whispers in your ear, “Still want me to put the fear of God in her?”

“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” You whisper back.

Your earlier nerves melting away at the sight of Ronnie. “Hi, Ronnie. So nice to meet you,” you say warmly.

Ronnie hands the roses and chocolates to Mel, who appears from the hallway, her face a mix of surprise and delight. “For me?” Mel asks.

Ronnie nods, her cheeks turning pink. “Yes.” then turns to you, “I’ll have her home by 10, ma’am.”

You smile, suddenly feeling much better. “You know what? 11 is fine.”

Mel’s jaw drops. “Wait, what? 11?” She crosses her arms, clearly relieved but also annoyed. “Why is it suddenly okay?”

You arch an eyebrow. “Would you prefer 9 instead?”

Mel bites her lip, glaring at you before letting it drop. She knows better than to push her luck.

As the girls leave, Riz shakes his head and chuckles. “Well, that was... unexpected.”

You laugh. “You mean the glasses, the roses, or the chocolates?”

“All of it,” he admits. “but mostly cuz she’s a baby chick. I had no idea.”

“Neither did I.” You grin, leaning against him. “Now that my daughter’s got a Valentine’s date… how about ours?”

He wraps an arm around you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Later That Evening…

The two of you settle on the couch, a movie is playing but neither of you is paying any attention to it. Half eaten cartons of Chinese takeout sits on the coffee table,

You lean back into the cushions, your legs curled under you. Riz stretches out beside you, his arm rests casually over the back of the couch. His dark hair falls loose and wild around his face, framing his jawline and a faint smile tugging at his lips. He turns his head toward you, his gaze steady, something about his eyes always captivated you, it was one of the first things you’d noticed about him. His hair had been the first. It was no secret that you were in love with his hair. He knew it.

“What are we even watching?” he asks, his voice low and smooth.

“I think it’s a rom-com,” you reply, glancing back at the screen. “I picked something light.”

“Huh,” he murmurs, not bothering to look at the TV. His attention is fully on you. “I think I prefer what’s right here.”

The words making your heart beat a little quicker, and you roll your eyes playfully to deflect. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he counters, his tone dropping into something deeper.

Your breath hitches as his hand, rough from years of working on bikes, grazes your arm. His fingers are gentle as they trace invisible hearts along your arm, the heat of his touch igniting little sparks under your skin. You tilt your head to look at him, and before you can say anything, he shifts closer, his knees brushing yours.

“You know,” he says softly, leaning in just enough that you can feel his words against your cheek, “this might be the best Valentine’s Day I’ve had in… well, ever.”

You laugh quietly, your nerves melting under the sincerity in his voice. “It’s not much of a Valentine’s date. Takeout and an old movie?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided grin. “Those are the best kind though, especially if it’s with you.”

The words leave you speechless, and before you can think, he’s leaning in. His lips meet yours, soft but insistent, and you respond without hesitation, your hands moving to his chest. His heartbeat steadily beneath your fingertips, grounding you even as your pulse races.

The kiss deepens, and his hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. Your own hands move instinctively, one sliding up to his shoulder while the other brushes against the edge of his jaw. The warmth of his skin against yours sends a shiver down your spine.

The rest of the world feels distant, as though it’s paused just for this moment. Riz’s other hand finds your waist, tugging you slightly closer until you’re pressed against him.

The kiss grows more heated, your lips parting as his hand slides lower, resting just at the curve of your hip. You feel his breath catch against your mouth, and the sound makes your stomach flip. There’s a fire between you, one that’s been smoldering for years, and it’s threatening to consume you both now.

“Riz,” you murmur against his lips, your voice breathless.

“Hmm?” he hums, not pulling away but softening the kiss slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“This… feels…”

“Right,” he finishes for you, his voice rough with emotion. “It feels right.”

Your hand slides up to his hair, tangling in the dark strands, and he lets out a quiet sigh as you tug him closer again. His lips find yours once more, and the intensity builds, the weight of the last couple of years of unspoken feelings spilling into every touch, every movement.

His hand runs the curve of your breast as he trails kissing along your neck down to your chest. He tugs away at the offensive fabric to reveal your plump treasures. His mouth quickly latches onto your hardened nipple suckling gently as a surge of desire travels down between your legs.

He moans into your mouth as you press up against his growing bulge.

Heated, wet and long over due, you quickly unfasten his belt and jeans, freeing his member, long and hard.

He gently bites down on your nipple as he pushes your panties aside and gently penetrates you. It’s slow and deliberate, greedily wanting to savor the moment, the feel of your wet heat until he is deep inside you. Then he withdrawals, denying you the fullness of him making you whimper with urgency. He chuckles, knowing you need him.

Despite desperately wanting and longing for him, you are surprised when he shoves back inside you eliciting a loud moan that you hadn’t known you’d been holding back for a long time. He repeats this motion for several more long and deep strokes until he is satisfied that his rock hard rod is fully drench in your dew. Only then does he give you want you’ve been needing.

You wrap your legs around him as his thrusts get faster and more aggressive. So close you could feel your climax just within your reach, you’re both fully lost in the throes of passion that you don’t even hear the front door open.

“Mom, I’m—oh my God!” Mel’s horrified voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of ice water.

You and Riz spring apart, straitening your clothes, faces flushed and hair tousled. Your heart pounds as you turn toward your daughter, who is frozen in the doorway.

“Mel!” you exclaim, scrambling to smooth your shirt. “What are you doing home so early?”

Mel gestures to the clock, her face a mix of smug satisfaction and mortified disgust. “It’s 10:58! I’m on time. Clearly, you two forgot your curfew!”

Riz clears his throat awkwardly, leaning back into the couch and running a hand through his loose hair. “Uh, how’d the date go?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

Mel glares at both of you, her arms crossed. “I cannot unsee that. Ever.”

You glance at Riz, who’s clearly trying not to laugh. “Mel, go to bed,” you say firmly, your cheeks burning.

“Gladly,” she mutters, stomping toward her room. “Ugh, I hate this house. Tio, whatever.”

The door slams shut behind her, and the silence that follows is deafening. You turn to Riz, who’s finally lost the battle and is chuckling under his breath.

“Well,” he says, his voice laced with amusement, “that’s more effective than a cold shower.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

Riz leans over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “don’t even worry about it, she’ll get over it. Eventually.”

“That poor thing is gonna be scarred for life.”

“She’s a big girl, she’ll survive, [y/n]”

“Yeah.”

You lift your head, your face still flushed, and meet his gaze. There’s a glint of playfulness there, but also something that sends your blood flowing all over again. “You know,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “The date doesn’t have to be over.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow raised. “yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Without another word, you take his hand and quietly lead him down the hall, sneaking like a couple of teenagers.

This time you make sure you lock your bedroom door behind you. "No more unwanted interruptions."

“Good evening,” comes the smooth, rich voice of Creeper. “From now on, you will address me as Sir. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” you start, but the habit of familiarity slips through. “Yes, Creeper—”

The room stills. His tone sharpens, cutting through the air like a blade. “No,” he interrupts, his voice firm but measured. His hand comes down on your bottom. “You will not use my name. It’s Sir to you, and nothing else. Do you understand?”

Your breath hitches, the authority in his voice making your pulse race and the sting of his hands burning more than just the soft skin of your buttocks. “Yes, Sir,” you manage, your voice small but compliant.

A softer, more soothing voice joins in, brushing away the tension. “And you will refer to me as Mistress, or Ma’m. Is that clear?,” Creeper’s girlfriend says, her tone warm but commanding. “I expect you’ll remember the rules from now on. Won’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you reply, your cheeks burning with the weight of their attention.

Bishop’s hand squeezes your shoulder, his presence grounding you. “You’re learning, sweetheart. That’s a start.” His approval feels like a balm, steadying your nerves.

“Tonight,” Bishop continues, his voice calm but firm, “you’ll listen and follow every instruction. This isn’t about punishment, it’s about reminding you what it means to trust and obey. And if it becomes too much, what do you say?”

“Pineapples,” you answer, the safe word falling from your lips like second nature.

“Good girl,” he says, pride threading through his tone. “Now, let’s begin.”

The blindfold tightens ever so slightly as Bishop secures it, cutting you off from the light entirely. In the absence of sight, your other senses sharpen, the faint creak of the floorboards, the warmth of his presence close to you, the distant scent of something faintly floral in the air.

“You’re going to prove to me tonight that you can follow instructions,” Bishop says, his voice firm but calm, steadying you in the moment. “No hesitation. No second-guessing. Only trust. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly but full of resolve.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the warmth in his tone sends a small thrill through you.

Creeper’s voice cuts through the stillness. “Step forward,” he says, his tone firm.

You hesitate for just a second, your feet unsure.

“Now,” he adds sharply, the single word laced with authority.

You obey, stepping forward gingerly into the unknown. The ground feels steady beneath your bare feet, but the uncertainty sends a shiver up your spine.

“Good,” Creeper says, his voice softer now, almost approving. “You’ll learn quickly not to hesitate. Trust the commands you’re given. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” you reply, a little breathless.

Mistress’s voice joins from behind you, soft. “Raise your hands in front of you, palms up.”

You comply immediately, holding your hands out in the darkness. A moment later, you feel the brush of fabric against your skin as she drapes something light over your wrists. The sensation is almost ticklish, making you shift slightly.

“Still,” she says, her voice gentle but firm.

You freeze, keeping your hands steady even as the urge to fidget hums beneath your skin.

“Good girl,” Mistress says, a trace of approval in her voice. “You’ll hold that position until I tell you otherwise. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you reply, your voice a little steadier now.

“Perfect,” Bishop says from beside you, his tone laced with pride. “Now we’ll see just how well you can focus.”

The next several minutes are a blur of sensations and commands, each testing your ability to follow without question. Creeper instructs you to kneel, adjusting your posture with a word or a firm but careful touch. Mistress’s fingers trace along your arm as she guides you to hold a position, correcting you when you falter. Bishop remains nearby, his presence steadying you, his voice a constant reminder of your anchor in the moment.

With each instruction, you feel a growing sense of accomplishment, the warmth of their praise washing over you.

“You’re doing well,” Bishop says, his voice soft yet firm. “But remember, this isn’t just about obeying-it’s about trusting. Trusting us. Trusting yourself. You’re capable of more than you think, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you reply, the words coming easily now, your confidence growing with each passing moment.

“Then show me,” he says, his tone a mixture of challenge and encouragement.

And you do, letting yourself sink deeper into the moment, your trust in them carrying you forward.

“Open your mouth.” Daddy commands.

Immediately your mouth obeys. “Good girl.” Bishop says. You feel thin fingers invade you mouth and instantly you wrap your mouth around them. You trace your lips around them and the slight graze of long acrylic nails startles you and your body tenses for a moment. Uncertainty, though curious, you’ve never felt a woman’s touch before and that scared you. You feel Bishops hands on your shoulders and his warm breath at the back of your neck. It’s reassuring. Excitement replaces fear as Mistress’s fingers begin to pump in and out of your mouth slowly, sensually. Moisture begins to form on the pink panties Daddy had given you for Christmas.

A set of strong hands grabs at your chest, tugging at your bra, exposing your breasts while Bishop pulls down your soaked panties, then guides you down to the floor. “On your knees” He commands.

Mistress's fingers pick up the pace. Creeper and Bishop take their places on either side of you. Each on taking a breast into their mouths suckling and tug on your nipples. You let out a soft moan.

“Good girl.” Mistress says as she finger fucks your mouth. “Very good.” Mistress removes her fingers and you couldn’t help but feel the void. She notices your displeasure. “No pouting.” At this two hands come down hard on your ass simultaneously. One from Creeper and one from Bishop. You can feel them smile as they remain latched on to your nipples.

“Open your mouth.” Mistress says. You obey. She kneels in front of you and rubs her breasts on your face. “Suck it.” She says but as you do a two hands take fistfuls of hair. Laughter fills the room as you try to follow instructions but those jerks wont allow you to. So close but not enough. They watch you struggle, amused as you try, you lick her nipple but can’t get it in your mouth. You try harder to move forward but they pull you back.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that baby girl.” Daddy taunts. You try again harder as instructed, pulling your own hair from their unrelenting grips. Unable to free yourself but close enough to reaching the goal. You begin sucking Mistress’ nipple like a starved kitten.

“Ah very good.” Creeper praised. “That was really good, y/n], you’re such a good little girl.’

Creeper pulls your head back again. You whimper.

“No, be a good girl.” Bishop swatted you again.

“Keep your mouth open.” Creeper ordered as he shoves his cock into your mouth. Not expecting it you struggled. “No, no be a good girl. Take it in, baby.”

Your slight hesitance earned you another swat but this time it was on your breast and it was Mistress’s hand. “If you’re gonna take my man’s dick in your mouth, you’re gonna suck it good or don’t suck it at all.” A sharp slap on your face reminding you to behave. Her fingernails dig into your hair as she shoves your face down, forcing more of his length down your throat. Behind you, you feel Bishop’s hand caressing your bottom, spreading your cheeks.

“Spread your legs, Princess.” You’re immediately rewarded with a tongue running down your slit and back to your forbidden hole, his tongue lingering there, gently caressing.

Just as you begin to get lost in the pleasure, it stops abruptly. Daddy moves away from you and you are being shoved further down to the floor until you face is buried in your Mistress’s pussy. Knowing exactly what is being expected of you, you begin lapping up the sweet dew before you without needing to be told. It’s not something you’d ever done before but you quickly get the hang of it.

Creeper laughs. “We didn’t tell you to eat it yet but I do think you should be rewarded for your enthusiasm. What do you think, Bish?”

“She’ll get her reward after she receives her punishment for getting ahead of herself.”

No sooner as the words left his mouth you felt the unexpected string of the flogger, the one Daddy had bought just for you, the one he hadn’t used on you in a while. One by one they each take turns flogging your bottom with only sporadic brief caresses to dampen the pain. They continue the punishment until you ass cheeks are bright red and just a hint of a slight welt forming all the while your pussy dripping your desire down your thighs..

Mistress’s hands gently rubs oil on your butt cheeks, soothing the flaming burn while Creeper’s pumping three finger in and out of your hungry kitty and two of Daddy’s finger’s are penetrating your asshole, stretching it slowly, lubing it up, prepping it.

“Care to do the honors?” He asks.

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Creeper withdrawals his fingers and quickly takes his place behind you. In one less than gentle stroke he is deep inside your ass. His girlfriend has once again taken her place beneath you with her pussy in your face.

“You didn’t get to finish did you. Now, your gonna eat this pussy until you make it come.” She orders and you obey.

Bishop takes a seat, amused at the sight of you getting your ass pounded while you eat your first pussy. Watching you being used by one of his men and his own needy woman was arousing. Creeper had found her in a gas station just outside of town. It had been fun watching her venture out of the confines of what once been her norm to explore and discover her hidden sexual desires. He’d had her several times as he had aided Creeper in guiding her in her journey to true sexual freedom. Now together they aid him in guiding you through your very own journey in being a submissive little for Daddy.

That should teach you to be a good girl he though as Creeper nuts in your bowels and his girl holds your head down while she screams her pleasure.

It’s quiet now. The others have left, it’s just you and Bishop now. You can hear him in the room but he says nothing. His hand softly traces the length of your body, from your head down to your back until he reaches your bruised bottom. His fingers linger there. He can still feel the skin hot from the flogging. He spreads your cheeks apart and sees Creeper’s cum dripping out of your hole down to your sensitive pussy.

You hear him unzip his pants and you can feel him, his hand and his hard cock sporadically making contact with your red hot bottom while he jerks off to the messy sight of your used body.

“You didn’t come did you?” He asks his hand griping tighter on his dick.

“No, Daddy.”

“Why not?” His voice is heavy and uneven. You can tell he’s close.

“Because you didn’t tell me to.” You answer sweetly.

That was just the answer he needs to give him the release he’s been needing all night. He lets out a grunt and instantly you felt the hot bursts of Daddy’s love on your butt.

“Good, and you’re not going to.” He tucks himself back in his pants and zips up. “That is your true punishment for your poor behavior. Let this be a reminder to you of what happens to bad little girls. Misbehave again and I just might get all the guys in the club to use you with no release for you. Understand?”

“Yes Daddy, I understand.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” he chuckles.

You were happy to see their connection, but as time passed, you started to notice your own feelings for Coco creeping in. It wasn’t just his kindness toward Ollie or the way he made you laugh with his dry sense of humor or his weird philosophies that oddly somehow made sense to you. Or the way you found yourself wearing make up again or fixing your hair anytime you knew he’d be around, a detail that had not been lost on Coco. It was something deeper, something you didn’t want to acknowledge, especially since you were married at the time.

Your marriage, however, had been on shaky ground long before you met Coco. But within a month of moving in, it became clear that no amount of distance could fix the cracks in your relationship. The arguments didn’t stop. The tension didn’t ease. And then, when you discovered a couple of months ago that he’d been unfaithful again, any remaining hope you’d held onto shattered. A month ago, you and your husband decided to divorce.

Since then, Coco had become a steady presence in your life, even as you tried to keep some distance. You couldn’t afford to complicate things, not now, not with everything still so raw. But with Valentine’s Day approaching, the thought of spending the day alone felt unbearable. So, you came up with a plan: an anti-Valentine’s date with Coco.

You’d been nervous when you asked him, afraid he’s say no to anything love related but you explained to him that is would be a non romantic friends only kind of night. He’d accepted.

Valentine's Day arrives, and as planned, you're keeping the vibe far from romantic. You’ve ordered the greasiest pizza you could find, stocked up on wings, and even splurged on some outrageous onesies. you find yourself feeling a little nervous. You glance at the clock as you adjust your onesie, a ridiculously fluffy pink-and-white-striped outfit with footies. Ollie, of course, has his own little outfit, a tiny devil costume, complete with horns, which he’s already tearing off. You told yourself this wasn’t a big deal. It was just a casual hangout with a friend, not a date. Ollie sat at the door, wagging his tail, as if sensing Coco was on his way.

When the knock comes, you open the door to find Coco standing there with a sheepish grin. He’s holding a six-pack of beer and a small bag hanging from his wrist.

“Uh, small problem,” he says, glancing at your outfit with an amused look. “I forgot my pajamas. Hope that doesn’t ruin the vibe.”

You roll your eyes but laugh. “Unbelievable. I set the bar so low, Cruz, and you still manage to miss it.”

“Well, I brought reinforcements,” he says, holding up the bag. “For Ollie.”

You peek inside and find a pack of pepperoni flavored treats and a plush squeaky toy shaped like a beer bottle. The label even says “Pup Brew” on it.

You grin. “Okay, you’re forgiven. But only because Ollie will love this.”

As if on cue, Ollie jumps on Coco, tail wagging furiously. Coco crouches down to greet him, pulling the toy from the bag and squeaking it a few times. Ollie immediately snatches it from his hand, running off to the corner of the living room to play with his new prize.

“You really went all out, huh?” he says as he takes another look at you and Ollie in your outfits.

“Uh huh, and it’s lucky for you that I knew you’d conveniently forget your pjs so I got you one too.”

“Ah, nah.” he begins to protest.

“Come on don’t be a party pooper. Commitment to the theme,” you say as you hand him the black and white skeleton suit with glow in the dark bones. “Your turn.”

He hesitates, eyeing the outfit like it’s a test of his dignity. “You’re lucky I like you.”

With some grumbling, he disappears into the bathroom and re-emerges wearing the onesie, looking every bit as ridiculous as you’d hoped. The sight of him, a tattooed, tough as nails biker in glow in the dark pajamas sends you into a fit of laughter. He rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

The night passes in a haze of laughter, greasy food, and low stakes card games with ridiculous stakes like who gets to take Ollie out for his late-night walk or who gets the last wing. You realize how easy it feels to be around him. There’s no pressure, no expectations, just warmth and companionship.

At one point, you catch Coco watching you. His expression is soft, almost unreadable, and for a second, your heart skips. But then he looks away, reaching down to scratch Ollie behind the ears.

Food and card game now abandoned as you both lounge on the couch, you scroll through movie options. “Okay, so no rom coms. What about a scary movie? It fits the anti-Valentine’s vibe. You know, instead of love, we get terror.”

Coco raises a brow, grinning. “You’re really committed to this theme, huh? Sure. But if you scream, I’m gonna make fun of you.”

“Deal,” you say, pressing play on a classic slasher film.

The suspense builds, and you inch closer to Coco without realizing it. Then, just as the music crescendos toward a jump scare, a loud SQUEAK cuts through the silence.

You yelp, clutching at Coco’s arm as your heart leaps in your chest. It takes you a second to realize the sound came not from the movie, but from Ollie, who sits proudly in the corner, chewing on his beer-shaped toy.

Coco bursts out laughing, his whole body shaking with amusement. “Oh man, that was perfect timing. Ollie’s got a sense of humor.”

“Not funny!” you say, though you can’t help but laugh along, your hand still gripping his arm.

“Admit it,” Coco says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “That was better than anything in the movie.”

You roll your eyes but smile, the tension between you easing into something softer.

As the movie continues, the atmosphere between you shifts. It’s subtle at first, an unspoken awareness of how close you’re sitting, the occasional brush of his arm against yours. When the movie ends, neither of you moves to turn the lights back on.

“You know,” Coco says after a moment of silence, his voice softer now, “this is probably the best Valentine’s Day I’ve had. Even if it’s technically anti-Valentine’s.”

You glance at him, feeling a sudden rush of vulnerability. “Yeah?”

He nods, his eyes meeting yours. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t really do the whole romance thing. Never have. But…this feels different. You’re different.”

Your breath catches. “Coco…”

“I know,” he says quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I know this isn’t the right time. You just got out of...well, everything. And the last thing I want is to make things complicated for you. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel something when I’m around you.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“I-” You pause, swallowing hard. “I didn’t plan for this, either. And trust me, I tried to ignore it. I even tried avoiding you for a while. But…you’re kind of impossible to avoid.”

He chuckles softly, but there’s a vulnerability in his expression that you’ve never seen before. “I didn’t want to mess things up with you. Especially since Ollie would probably never forgive me.”

You laugh, even as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Ollie would definitely pick you over me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a split second before placing a hand over yours. “For what it’s worth, I’d pick you. Every time.”

Your heart swells at his words, and before you can overthink it, you lean in, closing the gap between you and Coco.

Your forehead rests against his, and the two of you sit there in the dim light, the world outside forgotten.

“So,” Coco says with a small smile, “does this mean the anti-Valentine’s thing is over?”

You laugh, your heart feeling lighter than it has in months. “Maybe just for tonight.”

Coco’s smile fades into something softer, more serious, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that steals your breath. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, a gentle touch that feels like a question waiting to be answered.

“Just for tonight,” he echoes, his voice low and gravelly, the words heavy with unspoken meaning.

The air between you shifts, charged and electric, the weight of everything you’ve been holding back threatening to collapse in an instant. When he leans in, it’s slow, deliberate, as though he’s giving you one last chance to pull away. But you don’t.

Your lips meet his in a kiss that starts soft, almost fragile, before the dam finally breaks. Months of restraint, of skirting around the edges of this moment, dissolve in the heat of it. The kiss deepens, his hands sliding to your waist, gripping you with a need that feels barely contained.

You gasp as his lips leave yours to trail down your jaw, his stubble scraping your skin in a way that makes your heart race. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to hold back?” he murmurs against your neck, his voice rough and raw.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his onesie, pulling him closer as if you can’t bear even an inch of space between you. “You think it’s been easy for me?” you breathe, your voice trembling. “You’re all I’ve thought about, Coco.”

That admission seems to undo him. He groans softly, his hands sliding under the fabric of your onesie to grip your bare skin. The heat of his touch sends a shiver through you, and you arch into him instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I need to hear you say it.”

You meet his gaze, your chest tight with emotion and desire. “I want this. I want you.”

His lips crash against yours with a hunger that feels almost desperate, his hands roaming your body with a newfound urgency. You tug at the zipper of his onesie, your hands exploring the warm, solid planes of his chest as the fabric falls away.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, his eyes drinking you in as if he can’t quite believe this is real.

“Coco,” you whisper, your voice breaking with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. You pull him down to you, your bodies tangling together on the couch as his mouth claims yours again, each kiss deeper and more consuming than the last.

Time seems to blur as his hands and lips explore every inch of you, the tension that’s been building between you for months finally spilling over. The couch is too small, too confining, and he lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

When he lays you down, the look in his eyes is enough to set you ablaze. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admits, his voice trembling. “Wanted you.”

“Then take me,” you say, your hands pulling him down to you. “Don’t hold back.”

And he doesn’t. In one swift motion he’s inside of you and everything you’ve been aching for is right there, his touch, his kiss, his scent, the taste of him as you run your tongue along his neck while he pumps deep inside of you, each thrust more deliberate, more demanding, more desperate.

“Fuck it, I love you.” He cries in pleasure as he fills you with his seed.

The unexpected declaration sends you over the edge and you hold on to him, pulling him closer to you, not wanting to ever let him go.

The rest of the night is a blur of whispered confessions, soft gasps, and the kind of closeness that feels like finding something you didn’t even know you were missing. Every touch, every kiss feels like a release, as though you’re both shedding the weight of everything that’s held you back until all that’s left is the two of you, raw and unguarded.

When it’s over, you lie tangled together in the quiet, your fingers tracing the beautiful artwork on his chest and not just his tattoos but the bruising on his skin where you’d marked him as yours.

“Chupacabra.” He teased but he’d returned the favor, placed marks of his own on your neck and breasts.

“Maybe tonight doesn’t have to end,” he murmurs, his voice soft but sure.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as Ollie jumps onto the bed with a happy squeak of his toy. “Maybe it doesn’t.”

Ravennas 2026 Birthday Bash Info and Rules!

Party starts August 1st 2026 and goes all month long! I currently have 53 planned pieces set to come out plus the usual choose your own!

I also have 6 trope cakes with 10 slices each for requests! See below for making a request for this event.

Rules/Info:

For this event I am not allowing any Anon requests

1 request per ask but you can send more than one ask in :)

Interact with your request when it comes out by either liking, commenting, reblogging or a mix of all.

Deadline for request will be march 1st 2026 or until all the slices are gone!

Who can you choose? Sons: Clay, Chibs, Happy,Halfsack, Juice, Jax, Kozik, Opie, Tig, Ratboy or Mayans: Angel, Bishop, Bottles, EZ,Coco, Creeper, Gilly, Guero, Manny,Nestor

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

What Should my request include? cake choice + slice number (1-10) + guy from the list above + the blurb as needed for the choice of cake you sent in.

Examples- Smores slice 2 with Juice as a werewolf

Galaxy slice 10 with Guero in a secret relationship with Cocos sister.

The Cakes!

Smores-Send a request in for a vampire, werewolf or demon story + one of the guys from either SONs or Mayans above!

Galaxy Cookie Dough- this is for forbidden romance/secret relationship. Pick one of the guys and send me a 1-2 sentence blurb in!

Unicorn- One bed/sharing a bed/sharing a room- Choose one of the guys and send a 1-2 sentence blub in!

Funfetti- Second Chances- Pick one of the guys and send me a small blurb in!

Oreo- Friends wBenefits/One night stand- Choose either option+ one of the guys and give me a small blurb!

Carrot Cake- Life/Milestones- Choose one of the guys and send a small blurb in!

Slices that are up for grabs still!

Smores: 1 2 3 4 6 8 9

Galaxy: 6 7 8

Unicorn: 2 3 4 5 6 8 9 10

Funfetti: 2 3 6 8 10

Oreo: 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Carrot Cake: 2 4 5 6 7 9 10

Cannot wait to see yall for the party in August!