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spaghettificationandpretzels · 9 months

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The New Bartender

Mayans MC Masterlist

Contains: Smut, MFM threesome, fluff, friendly rivalries. No beta read, probably full of mistakes I can't see.

4K words

Out of desperation, Bishop hires a real bartender.

Thank you to @burningtacozombie for the gif.

You looked over the ad, "The pay's alright but I don't think I'm going to gel well here, the poster I picked up didn't exactly say I would be working at a biker clubhouse."

Bishop swallowed and shot a look at Hank; you were the most qualified person they had spoken to all week, and the drinks you had whipped up were to die for, "We realise not putting the location on the ad wasn't the best idea but we're desperate. We can't keep people long and well, we're bikers, we like to drink."

You nodded, "Yep and I've been there and done that, I'm not interested in spending my night being disrespected. At least in a bar, I can get the fucker kicked out."

Hank held up his hands, "If you wanna toss someone, you can. The girls that are left could really use a hand. I promise we're nicer than we look."

You sighed, "Fine, a two week trial, you do sound desperate. But I ain't putting up with any shit and don't think I'm not going to take someone's keys from them."

Bishop smiled and stuck out his hand, "Done, you're hired."

You shook it and sighed before shaking Hank's hand too, "I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting two weeks."

That was two months ago, and aside from a few growing pains and walking out with all the other women in the middle of a party after a particularly rude Mayan took it one step too far, things had been amazing.

"I'll get an old fashioned please." You mixed the drink in a flash and slid it across the bar to Bishop, "Thanks."

You smiled, "Don't mention it. I know I've asked you this before but have you considered broadening your horizons? Maybe try something a little different."

Bishop sighed, "What do you recommend?"

You ran a finger over the liquor bottles, "You ever had a dark and stormy?"

He shrugged, "Probably."

"Ok then, when that's drained, you can give it another go." Bishop walked away with his drink and Guero and Bottles filled the space.

Guero gave you his trademark smirk and you handed him a beer, "What do you want? I know that look."

He chuckled, "Who do you like more, me or Mr Magoo?"

The question seemed to roll off Bottles' back, "I'm not going to answer that."

Bottles smiled, "Nah, we want to know."

You shook your head, "No, and if you keep this up, I'm cutting you both off."

Guero looked you up and down, "That's what we like about you y/n, this take no prisoners attitude is very hot."

You huffed, "You've both made your attraction pretty clear and it's not happening, I'm not going to be your tool to show up the prospect."

"Maybe we're just going to ask you to have a drink with us." Bottles hadn't yet developed the charm that some of the patched members had and if it wasn't so cute, you might have felt sorry for him.

"Come on y/n, I wouldn't be showing him up, we'd be helping the poor boy. You see how shy he is." You rolled your eyes but Guero continued, "All this flirting we've been doing has to go somewhere, just say yes and we'll show you a good time."

There was no denying they were attractive, and if the rumours you heard around the clubhouse were true, they knew what they were doing, "I'm not going to have sex with Bottles because you wanna torment him about it, that's really gross dude."

Bottles smiled, "That's not what it is, he's got a big mouth and I want to prove him wrong."

You blinked, you had no idea where his sudden confidence came from, "What fucking cave did you two crawl out of?"

Guero raised a hand in placation, "It ain't like that, we like you and we want to show you a good time, if you'll let us."

You sighed, "Fine, but no fucking bullshit and this doesn't mean I'm getting passed around." You held up a finger as the smirk grew on Guero's face, "Any fuckin bullshit and I'm putting you both out on your asses, understand?" They both nodded aggressively, "Good, I'll see you at my place tomorrow at six and bring food."

****

You rubbed your face as they fought over the last spring roll, "I swear to shit, cut it in half or I'll eat it." They stopped like little boys caught in the middle of roughhousing and did as you asked, "Thank you."

Bottles shifted in his seat and pushed up his glasses, "Thank you for agreeing to this."

You smiled, "You're both very handsome and I'm hoping to have fun too, it's not a big ask."

The corner of Guero's lip ticked up, "Oh, you're going to have more than fun."

You rolled your eyes, "If you keep bragging, I'm going to think you're overcompensating for something."

"Oh trust me, I'm compensating just the right amount." Sometimes his smug tone made you want to punch him.

Bottles shook his head, "You don't need to worry about that with me, I'm secure."

"You know, it might serve you to be this confident all the time, I like this side of you." He positively beamed at your praise. Guero kicked him under the table and you slapped his chest, "None of that, be nice to him."

Bottles smiled, "Yeah, be nice to me."

Guero's jaw ticked, "You are so in for it Prospect."

You shook your head and stood up, "I'm going to fix up the bedroom, I expect my kitchen to be clean by the time I invite you into my bed." Guero would have taken the chance to make Bottles do it had you not stopped him, "Both of you. You don't want me thinking you're lazy would you?"

Guero shook his head, "I love cleaning."

"Sure you do, you got ten minutes." With that, you headed to the bedroom and left them to rile each other up for the upcoming fun.

At eight minutes, you walked out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen, looking around before smiling, "Great job, shall we?"

Guero slapped Bottles on the back and grinned, "We shall."

You followed them into the bedroom and Guero flopped himself on the chair by the bed while Bottles stood in the middle of the room, "You're not taking part?"

Guero's tongue darted out and licked his lower lip, "I'm alright with watching, I'll step in when he can't do the job right."

You ignored him and stepped closer to Bottles, taking his glasses off his face and handing them to Guero without looking at him. "Are you sure you're alright with this? I don't want you to do anything you're not one hundred percent into."

He laid hands on your cheeks and smiled, "I'm really alright with this, trust me." He leaned in closer and bumped your nose with his, "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, "Yes, I would like that." His lips were gentle when he pressed them to yours, holding a quiet confidence that made your skin burst out into gooseflesh.

One hand left your face and made its way down your body to unbutton your top before sliding it off your shoulders, "Holy shit."

You could feel Guero eyes on your body as he took in your bare skin, and you broke the kiss, "It's just my back dude."

He chuckled, "Yeah, but I can tell you got a hot bra on, and the Prospect's too busy kissing you to appreciate it."

Sure enough, when you turned back, Bottle's eyes were stuck on your lace covered breast, "It is a nice bra."

You nodded, "Yeah, you wanna take it off me?"

Bottle's hands rushed to remove it as his lips found yours again, "Wow Prospect, I thought you were a virgin but the way that bra came off makes me think we might be alright yet."

You broke the kiss again and shot a look at Guero, "You did crawl out of a cave, virginity isn't real."

Guero chuckled, "Sorry, continue."

Bottles' lips moved to your neck when you turned back this time, that same quiet confidence coming through as his hand moved to your breast to play with your nipple. His hand went to your ribcage and pulled you close as the other moved down to the zipper of your jeans, "Can I?"

You nodded, "Yes please." The zipper came open and a warm hand slid inside before settling over your covered core to cup you through your panties.

"You gonna take her jeans off Prospect? It ain't fair that you're keeping her all of yourself." Again, there was something in Guero's tone that made you want to punch him, he was clearly enjoying the power.

Bottles pushed your panties aside and his fingers grazed your bare flesh, "How about you come over here and do it yourself, I'm busy."

Guero hopped up with a skip in his step and took two long strides over to the middle of the room. His hand were warm as he ran his knuckles up and down your sides, getting lower and lower with each pass before finally going low enough to pull your jeans down your legs, "Did you dress up for us?"

Bottles' calloused fingers finally making direct contact with your clit made it hard to reply, "I think she did, but unlike you, I'm grateful for it."

Guero went to reply, but you mustered your own, "I did it for me, I like nice lingerie. As far as you know, I could have been wearing something like this four nights a week."

Bottles swallowed and flicked his eyes to Guero who smirked, "Our bad, apologise Prospect."

Bottles didn't respond, and your panties went next while he gathered wetness from your entrance before sliding two of his thick fingers inside you. Guero stepped back, flopped on the bed, and pet the spot beside him, "You two wanna join me?"

You whimpered as Bottles pulled his fingers out and stepped backwards towards the bed, sitting on the edge as Bottles stepped between your legs, "You're both overdressed."

You reached out, pulled Bottles' belt free and yanked his jeans down while he removed his shirt and then a bare chest was being pressed against your back and Guero's lips grazing your neck, "Hey, fuck off, it's my turn."

Guero sat back, propped up on the headboard and smirked, "Sorry man, you were just taking forever."

You shook your head in disbelief, "Do I get a say in any of this you fucking troglodytes?"

Bottles suddenly looked very smug, "What do you want?"

You heard Guero's jeans coming off as they waited for your answer, "I want you to fuck me."

Bottles grinned and leaned over, forcing you to lie back, "I can do that."

You made your way up the bed and settled on the pillows and Guero bent over to take you into a kiss. His hand found your cheek and he pulled back while his thumb stroked your skin, "You want me to fuck you too or are you going to make me sit here and watch?"

Eyes got wide as you watched Guero's hand slide down his body to take his dick out, "Holy shit."

Guero chuckled, "That's not an answer."

You blinked, "That thing is fucking huge, what the fuck do you want me to do with it?"

Guero shrugged, "Whatever you want, I'm not fussed."

Bottles tapped your hip gently and drew your attention back to him, "Well you can decide later because I want to make you feel good, can I do that?"

You nodded, "Yes please."

Guero stroked his dick lazily, "So polite, who knew you had such great manners. Did you know about that Prospect?"

Bottles was looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive, "She's always sweet to me, it's not my fault you're an asshole."

"Can someone please do something before I have an aneurism?" No reply came from either of them as Bottles made his way all the way up the bed and hovered over you. His lips touched yours, the kissed deeper this time as his free hand rubbed your outer thigh and you placed one hand on his side and the other reached out to grab Guero's cock.

Bottles grabbed your wrist and shook his head, "Don't."

"But I want to." Your tone was far more desperate than you intended

Guero looked for you to Bottles and chuckled, "Yeah Prospect, she wants to. Are you going to deny such a beautiful woman?"

You could see the wheels turning to Bottles head before he let your hand go, "Alright, only because you've been so good."

Guero wrapped his hand over yours and placed it over his dick, moving in a barely there stroke, "Like that yeah?"

You nodded, "Ok." He smiled and leaned back, enjoying the sensation as he watched Bottles' lips return to your skin.

You slid your hand from Bottles' side and removed his boxers and his hard cock sprung free, "Well look at that, the Prospect's packing too. Who knew?"

Bottles chuckled, "Yeah, and unlike you, I know how to use it."

You huffed, "Can someone please fucking do something instead of just bickering, I could have gotten myself off five times by now."

Bottles smiled and nibbled your neck as he made his way to your breast, and Guero's hand wrapped over yours again as he tightened your grip slightly before pulling away once more. Bottles lips wrapped around your nipple as his hand came up to play with the other but Guero slapped it away, "You don't get to have all the fun, I've barely touched her."

Bottles took the chance to take to the hand that was on your breast and place it back between your legs, and you took in a breath as he went right back to where he was before, with his fingers sliding inside you.

Guero's finger moved in broad, teasing circles, his fingertips bearly touching your breasts as he moved closer to your nipple. Bottles, however, was kissing your flesh like it contained the answer to the universe. Before you could relax into the feeling, Bottles was pulling away and kissing down your body to your core.

Guero picked up the slack, his hands becoming more insistent as he had more room to work, and Bottles' fingertips crooked upwards to brush your G-spot as he used his other hand to lift your legs over his shoulders. He lifted his head and made eye contact with you before giving you a soft smile, "Can I?"

You nodded and wove your hand into his hair, "Please." His lips sealed around your clit and Guero shuffled down so he was lying next to you before taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss. Guero swallowed your moans as Bottles worked you closer to the edge, all the teasing and stopping finally catching up with you as the orgasm rushed towards you like an oncoming train.

You bit down on Guero's pillowy lower lip and he let out a feral grunt as your hand tightened around his cock. You pushed Bottles head closer and ground yourself on his face as your clenched around his fingers and Guero broke the kiss to watch as pleasure overtook your body, "Fuck, that's so fucking hot."

Bottles pulled back and wiped his face with his palm and kissed back up your body, taking your chin in between his fingers and pulling your head away from Guero and towards him as he took you into a kiss. Guero's breath caught in his throat, but before you could act on it, Bottles grabbed both your wrists and pressed them into the pillow by your head, "Keep them there."

Guero was taken aback but recovered quickly, "I was going to complain but this might be better than the handjob."

Bottles removed his hands from your wrists and slid them down your body and bent your knees so he could slot himself in the space between them, "Condoms?"

"Top drawer." Guero twisted himself around and reached over, rifling through the drawer with a smile before pausing to look at something.

A smirk grew on his face as he pulled out a bullet vibe, "What's this?"

He and Bottles shared a look but you shook your head, "Next time."

"Alright, next time it is." Guero shot Bottles a pointed look and when he stayed quiet, the box of condoms was lobbed at his head, "You got something stuck in your throat? She's saying there's going to be a next time."

Bottles' brain caught up with his dick because he was grinning, "Hell yeah, I can't wait."

He picked the condoms up from where they had landed and pulled one out of the packet before opening it and sliding it over his cock. His hands ran up and down your legs as you threw them over his waist and he rubbed his cock up and down your slit and looked into your eyes in a request for permission, "Please."

He slid inside you slowly, biting back his moan as he bottomed out. Guero rested his hand on your cheek and turned your head towards him for another kiss as his hand returned to his dick. Bottles rocked his hips slowly, working up to a steady pace as he held himself above you on his elbows.

You pulled your hands off the pillow and wrapped them around his body, Bottles making no move to stop you as his hips picked up speed. Beside you, Guero tutted and slapped Bottles' shoulder before pushing him slightly, "Have you forgotten something man?"

Bottles hips barely slowed as he shook his head and Guero rearranged himself so he could slide his hand between your bodies to rub your clit, "The fucking basics man."

It took a few thrusts for them to get the rhythm but before long, the sensations overwhelmed you, "I didn't fucking forget man."

Guero smirked, "Ah I see, if you can't handle it I can take over."

"No, please don't stop." That only spurred Bottles on as he picked up speed, and then he was the one batting Guero's hand away as he took over. There was more light shoving as Guero pressed his lips to yours, and Bottles kissed your neck, giving you no time to warn with as the second orgasm swept over you.

Bottles' pace faltered, and they swapped places as he climbed his own high. Through the haze of pleasure, you were vaguely aware that Guero was nibbling bruises into your neck, but before you could protest, Bottles' breath shuddered, and he pulsed inside you.

Your hips twitched as Bottles pulled out and rolled off you with a chuckle, "Sorry."

Guero huffed, "He's not sorry, look at him." He rolled you over onto your side facing him and took your head in his hands, "Don't worry y/n, I'll be nicer to you."

Bottles settled behind you with his chest pressed against your back and ran his hands up and down your body while he pressed his lips to your upper back, "Do you believe him?"

Guero was brushing your sweat stuck hair from your face with a gentle smile, "I do."

There was a rush to find the condoms and Guero paused like he was deep in thought as he held the little square package, "What is it?"

He smiled, "I'm thinking about whether I should go down on you first, it's no fair that the Prospect gets all the fun."

You thought for a moment, "I think that might be a bit too much, my brain feels like it's swimming in maple syrup."

Guero smiled, "Maple syrup, are you a secret Canadian?"

You shook your head, "No, I was worried if I said chocolate syrup you'd leave us to get a hot fudge parfait."

Guero chuckled and pecked your cheek, "I wouldn't dream of it and that's alright, I'm happy to skip to the main event." He rolled the condom down his dick and lifted your leg over his hip before running his cock up and down your slit, "You wanna keep going? You don't need to say yes, we can do something else if you're done."

You smiled, "No, I want to keep going."

Bottles chuckled behind you and reached over to shove Guero lightly, "Who's denying the beautiful woman now?"

Guero snorted, "Hey, I'm being a gentleman." He sighed and his lips met yours as he began a slow, steady slide inside you. He paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his ample size before slowly rocking his hips, "You good?" His voice was tightly, clearly feeling the outcome of his own delayed pleasure.

You nodded, "Yep."

Bottles pulled you away from Guero and you twisted towards him like a pretzel so he could kiss you while Guero's hips picked up speed, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Guero exhaled sharply, "You wanna say that again?" Guero's fingers found your clit in an instant and he flashed a grin at Bottles, "I don't forget." He rolled his hips into you and Bottles swallowed your gasp as Guero brushed your G-spot with each forceful stroke.

Your breath caught in your throat and Bottle's lips turned gentle on yours, the mix of rough and gentle intensifying the sensations even. Bottles didn't let you pull your lips away to warn Guero of your oncoming release and you swore you could hear something break in his brain as you clenched around him, "Fucking fuck."

Guero yanked you away from Bottles and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that left your head spinning as he followed behind you, taking his hand from your clit and gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises.

Guero rolled away from you and you flopped onto your back, unable to move much more without rolling onto Bottles, "Fuck that was amazing."

Guero chuckled, "You said it Prospect."

You sighed and pushed yourself up, "I really need to go have a shower, I'm all sweaty."

Bottles followed, looking helpful as always, "We can join you, I had a look at your shower and it will fit all three of us."

Guero shook his head, "What are you talking about Prospect, I'm going to help y/n clean up and you're going to change the sheets."

You crossed your arms over your chest, "Nope, I'm going to shower all by myself and you're both going to change the sheets, they're in the drawers under the bed and there are spare pillows in the cupboard." Guero glared at Bottles and you held up a finger, "No fighting or you'll be sleeping on the porch."

Bottles eyes went wide, "I wasn't fighting, it's all him."

You shook your head and turned on your heel, "Don't think I can't see how you rile him up. I'll be out in ten, that should be enough time."

Thankfully, when you came out of the bathroom, there were fresh sheets on the bed and they were getting along. They took turns in the bathroom and Bottles was thoughtful enough to bring you a glass of water while Guero glared at him.

You stretched and yawned then climbed into bed, Geruo and Bottles following after you, "So, who do you like more, me or Bottles?"

You shook your head, "I like you both equally now can I please get some sleep, I'm worn out."

Bottles chuckled, "That's my plan but I get the feeling that he's going to want to talk."

Guero reached over you and shoved him, "Do not, I know when to shut up, unlike you."

You huffed and climbed over Guero to turn off the lamp, "Goodnight, both of you."

They got the message because they arranged themselves so they could touch you, with all your legs entangled in a mess, while placing their arms strategically over you. Guero pressed his lips to your temple, "Goodnight y/n."

Bottles went next with his lips falling on your cheek, "Goodnight, thank you for tonight."

Guero kicked him softly, "Show off."

Fin

Y'all want this to become a thing? I'm not above making this a thing, where's there's I love yous and non sexual cuddling.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 9 months

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Lost & Found - A Guero (Mayans MC)/OC Story.

Okay, okay! I cave to the demand and the excitement I have warmly received from you all. Here you go, darlings. First chapter is here. I can’t promise I will be posting the second next week just in case I want to do ANOTHER deep dive into the editing, but since I am just over halfway through writing it now, I thought I would at least post the first.

Story is somewhat canon, with a few changes here and there to suit my artistic vision... i.e. I kicked canon in the ass and told her to go home, hahaha! Oh, I also gave Guero a surname, too! I tried to keep him as true to who we see on screen, but obviously since we didn’t get him for long, some of his characterisations are of my creation. Don’t like it? Don’t read. Simple as that.

Nervously and excitedly awaiting your feedback, eeek! :)

Words - 3,834

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters.

Unknown numbers. Ezekiel Reyes often received more than he wished to endure upon the burner phone he used for club business. Regularly they were legitimate, but occasionally telemarketers, such annoyances he simply hung up on instantly. While walking from his trailer to the clubhouse, he expected the call coming in to be that of nuisance, 11am seemingly the call centre worker bee’s peak time to bother him about his long-distance courier needs, or savings on his energy bills.

It was no telemarketer, but he almost disconnected the call all the same in sheer disbelief.

“Ezekiel Reyes?”

“Who wants to know?” His journey across the yard was undisturbed, watching as Bottles and Nestor took in an alcohol delivery, a nearby Guero and Downer giving them the usual offering of shit talk.

“Rocco Lombardi.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. The Rocco Lombardi was reaching out to him? Nah.

“This your idea of a joke?”

He heard a deep chuckle filter down the line. “I’m more of a knock knock, who’s there kinda fella.” Remaining paused, he thought whoever it was had at least nailed the thick, New Jersey accent. He had to give them props for that, he guessed. “Listen, you got FaceTime, I take it?”

“I do, but...” The line cut dead. Five seconds later and sure enough, a FaceTime call came in. EZ nearly fell over when there on the screen, appeared the face of the big boss, the notorious and famed king of the mafia. There he was; the head of the biggest, most powerful crime family on earth. Rocco Lombardi.

“That better?”

He raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, the confirmation is appreciated.”

“Good. Now not for nothin’, but I can’t fuckin’ stand video calls, encrypted or not. I’ll call you back.” Once again, the call disconnected, the cell ringing after a few moments. All the while EZ could feel his ego swelling, realising truly how far he’d come in his leadership that he was being sought out by someone of such standing within the criminal underworld. He was nothing short of surprised when he eventually found out why, though.

He’d always believed that the code of La Cosa Nostra forbade their operations to extend into the realms of drug trafficking. To be specific, he’d assumed it stemmed from reasons of mortality, perhaps a skewed sense of Catholic guilt, when in fact, the commoner explanation was far simpler.

The prospect of a lengthier prison sentence, of course, increased the propensity of their members turning upon the organisation, becoming government informants in order to secure a more lenient custodial term. When the federal carrot is dangled before a desperate man, one looking at forty years when his assistance could mean all he ends up serving is ten to fifteen, tongues tend to be loosened.

Rats out themselves, major players are taken off the streets and ultimately, the government wins. It would be very reasonable to assume that the code is in place for this very reason, to prevent such catastrophic damage within their organisation and family infrastructure. The risk is not worth the payout. Or rather, it is bendable to the point of unrecognition when those doing said bending can earn a substantial profit.

Enter Rocco Lombardi and his proposition.

“I think we could mutually benefit from the blending of your organisation with mine, Mr Reyes.” Lombardi was intelligent enough to be concise, even when speaking upon the relative safety of a burner phone. He hadn’t gotten to the top because he was sloppy. Lombardi had sat at the very head of the hierarchy for years, after all. He was hailed as the boss of all bosses for a reason.

They’d once given John Gotti the monicker of Teflon Don, because nothing ever stuck to him in the way of evidence to bring about charges. That was until his own underboss has turned on him, the evidence given at trial by Salvatore “Sammy the Bull” Gravano leading to his incarceration. Truly, if there was one overlord within the organised crime world who lacked cohesion, it was the man who ruled the Romano crime family with an iron fist.

EZ Reyes had launched into thoroughly researching Lombardi after his reaching out to him, learning the ins and out of his character, how much of a slippery customer he was, how – and it went without saying – he would use people as pawns to further his own reach and agenda. It went without saying because it was the way of his own world, too. Within his MC, he went about the very same, albeit on a much smaller scale.

Rocco Lombardi’s reach was, to put it simply, enormous. EZ and his VP would be lying if they’d have claimed that bearing such in mind, it hadn’t piqued their curiosity over what on earth he could want with a Californian based MC. For all intents and purposes, the man had his operations not merely sewn up tightly, but steel reinforced.

“All I know is we gotta play it carefully, mano,” Bishop had sagely advised prior to their leaving Santo Padre to for a face to face with the mafioso legend, Rocco insisting that a larger MC presence not assemble in the interests of it remaining nothing short of clandestine. “Our worlds might be similar, but the mafia play by an entirely different set of rules. I ain’t saying you’re not smart enough to outsmart the guy, but he’s the kind who will have thought three moves ahead before we’ve even stepped foot into that hotel suite.”

EZ had sipped his beer, narrowed eyes unmoving as he’d absorbed the words of the former president with all the credence they deserved. Bishop had, after all, been approached by the mafia before. His reasons for turning down an offer from a different crime family had been solid in their validity, and EZ knew he would be a fool to let this warning go unheeded. Especially since the club were on their knees where their drug trade was concerned. He also knew that somehow, Rocco likely knew this, too.

The mafia tended to have ears in the very last places one might expect them to extend. He also knew that they preferred to keep their operations within the Italian American brotherhood if they could at all help it, so the need for an alliance was somewhat even in its beneficial mutuality.

“I guess we just have to wait and see what this sit down entails.” Truly, it was all they could do.

The time passed quickly between then and the two of them riding through the strip, both separately feeling the mist of apprehension gather, until they were parking up at the hotel and casino they were scheduled to meet Lombardi at, their demeanours switching to cool composure before they’d even entered the building.

The two men dressed in denim, flannel and leather looked out of place as they strode across the foyer of the MGM Grand, the buzz and tacky decadence of Las Vegas swirling all around them. Gamblers bet it all, slot machines flashed in frenzy while spitting out endless streams of coins, and alcohol flowed without restriction, certainly enough to keep it so the house always won.

Would it be their own win he was sealing, EZ thought while waiting for the elevator, or was this the biggest and most uncertain gamble the club were about to make to date? He guessed the next few hours would tell, whether or not he was about to be presented with a winning hand.

The ding of the elevator roused him, both stepping inside, Bishop pressing the button for the tenth floor. EZ stared straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator doors, noting the haunted veil that hung over his features. Shadowy eyes and skin bearing many more lines than a man in his mid-thirties should do were now his staple in appearance, a few further flecks of grey in his hair also.

Ezekiel Reyes was a man barely holding it together, but his demeanour did not give away the tumult that gnawed at his guts and yanked at his nerves, even if it had seemed to age him five years in just over seven months. His control was as unquestionable as it was unshakable, even in the dark times his club was currently under the duress of. He would never, ever let the toll it was taking upon him show.

He was in Vegas, after all. Home of the poker face.

The man at his side, though? He saw through the veil. He knew. In the interests of helping him glue back together the smashed fragments of the MC, he chose to keep his observances to himself. When he’d reigned supreme, if someone had pointed out his weak points, he would have shown no magnanimity in return. He knew better than to antagonise. Bishop Losa was nothing if not tactile these days, with how much delicacy teetered upon a knife’s edge, how much was at stake.

The elevator shunted to a stop, the doors gliding open, the men exchanging a look and a nod before they exited, walking in step down the long hallway. Coming to a stop in front of room eight one five, EZ reached to knock, his arm suddenly grasped, preventing the rap of knuckles upon the sleek, white enamel.

“Whatever goes down in there, I got you.” Bishop’s words were delivered with a solemn nod, EZ returning it before knocking the door. They stood tall as they waited, unflinching, rock-like in their demeanour, the door opening to reveal a slight yet menacing looking man in an expensive suit. He eyed up the two men standing before him, his lips pursing slightly as he stood back to allow their entrance.

“Guns on the table.”

EZ’s brow knitted. “The fuck?”

“You heard me, stronzo. Guns. On. The. Table.”

Neither man took well to his condescending delivery, both irked at the display of what they considered to be one hell of a chip upon his shoulder. EZ was just about to offer his retort when a voice came from further within the suite.

“Stop playing rottweiler and let my guests in, Mario. If we’re armed, so can they be, too.” Immediately, he stood aside at the instruction of his boss, a large, dark-haired man rising from his seat at the dining table, two armed men stationed in opposing corners of the suite. “My apologies. This one here, he can be a hot head, y’know?”

Although seemingly personable right off the bat, there was an aura surrounding Rocco Lombardi that virtually crackled with menace. His ‘thou shalt not fuck with me’ demeanour was beyond palpable. “Take a seat, fellas. Can I offer either of youse a drink?”

EZ’s eyes flitted around the room, taking in every detail. He stored it all on the internal hard drive that was his brain, his guard up as naturally it should have been. “No, thank you.”

Rocco took the rebuff in his stride, gesturing to the chairs opposite as he sat again. “A man who likes to get straight down to business. I can appreciate that.” Down to business was exactly how it went, no pleasantries, no idle chatter. Rocco cut right to the chase.

“My proposition is simple, Ezekiel. My current methods in transportation of product are, shall we say, attracting more attention than myself and my associates are comfortable with, y’know? I need to implement a one stop solution. I also need a far more financially viable method of my product crossing the border from Mexico than I’m currently paying through the fucking nose for.”

Bribes. Of course, Lombardi meant bribing the border control, an exercise EZ knew likely cost fortunes, cutting into a profit margin the mafia were probably tired of having bites taken out of. “This is where the MC comes in, youse and your tunnel.” EZ’s eyebrow twitched, just a fraction, Rocco smirking at the tell.

“Yeah, I know all about it. Ain’t many places my ears don’t have reach. I want that tunnel as a new channel to move my product across the border, which then will be transferred to the Port of San Diego, to a designated shipping container the day it ports. You unload into the container, minus your personal cut that will ensure you keep the monopoly on supply within the Californian correctional facilities, and you also get a nice little monetary injection for you and your boys on a monthly basis. How’s that sound?”

EZ took a moment to ponder, his fingers knitting before him on the table, arm muscles flexing as he shared a sideways glance with Bishop. “Sounds like there’s a catch.”

Rocco smirked, taking a long puff on his cigar, his eyes twinkling through the thick plumes of smoke as he leaned back in his chair. “You move two tons at a time. That is non-negotiable.”

Two fucking tons every month. Holy mother of god. Before they’d even entered that room, they of course knew the reach of the Romano crime family, that it was extensive. Worldwide, even. Two tons of heroin every four weeks truly hammered home just how far Lombardi’s tentacles reached within the criminal underworld. The risks associated with that were unfathomable, EZ lifting his chin, his poker face firmly set once more. “I’m gonna need to see a number, the nice little monetary injection you speak of.”

Rocco reached into the pocket of his suit, removing a pen, taking a napkin from the table before him and scribing a number upon it, sliding it across the polished wood. Upon viewing it, EZ’s well trained blank façade slid south quickly, showing it to Bishop.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

His quiet exclamation was no understatement over the amount of zero’s scrawled upon the napkin.

“I assume you know of our current difficulties with the LNG?”

The tall man nodded. “Quite a fucking pasticcio youse have gotten yourself into, eh?” His smile widened suddenly, slowly drawing his thumb and forefinger from the corners of his mouth down to the centre of his lip. “If you do the first shipment for free, I can take care of that, as well as your issues with the knuckleheaded, heavy arms wielding fuck heads you got yourselves caught up in, too.” He hissed a breath over his teeth, shaking his head. “Fentanyl, gentleman. What a risky business that is.”

What in the fuck didn’t this man know about their operations? EZ was all but surprised that Rocco wasn’t clued in on the colour of his underwear by that point, the man seemingly well informed, his intel even extending to knowing about their deal with Cole.

He rose to his feet, jerking his head towards the balcony. “If you could give myself and my VP a moment?”

Rocco made a passive motion with his hand, nodding. “Sure, take your time.”

They strode across the suite, wallet chains rattling and leather creaking the only sounds to permeate the silence of the room, EZ sliding the glass door open. The warm Vegas air hit him, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the luminosity of the strip, thousands upon thousands of lights twinkling. They glittered a promise of wealth and prosperity hinged upon a gamble, which was exactly what Rocco Lombardi was offering up to them.

“You have to back me on this when we take it to the table. The risk is massive, and I appreciate that, but this? This is our way out of it all. Our way out and our ladder to climb back to the top.”

Bishop considered the words of his president as he pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one up. A massive risk; fuck, that was putting it lightly. It was a fool’s errand, in short, transporting such a colossal consignment of heroin. The pay off, though? If they could execute each run flawlessly, it would be beyond worth it. Santo Padre would be back on top, and the Mayans kings of California.

He wanted with everything he had to back EZ, but something persistent tugged at him deep in his guts. The old adage ‘too good to be true’ echoed through his mind. There had to be another catch. For all appearances, said catch appeared to be the two tons of narcotics, the kind of consignment that would mean the MC would never see the outside of a prison for the remainder of their lives, should they be caught moving it. However, he felt there was another shoe yet to drop from Lombardi’s perspective.

Conflict rose in him like an unpleasant tempest, knowing that they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Take the deal and shoulder an enormous risk or walk away from it and try to seek a way out of their mess alone. Being in the pocket of the mafia was a dangerous location, he knew that; they both knew that. In this instance, no matter how much trepidation he felt, he had to concede that Lombari’s offer was very much the lesser of two evils.

Still, it didn’t prevent him voicing the concern. “I feel like there’s something extra he’s gonna have us on the hook for further down the road.” Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he turned to his president, brows furrowed, his head shaking softly. “I wanna back you, but I don’t trust him.”

Neither did EZ, if he was honest. “We don’t need to trust him. We need to make ourselves indispensable to him. The weight of his organisation has the power to break us completely, and I’d be an idiot if I didn’t see that, Bish. We gotta remember that he’s coming to us because he needs this symbiosis too. If he had any other plan to move his product, he’d have exacted it by now. What he’s offering us in payment solidifies that. He needs to lock the MC down.”

He took a breath, his eyes once again focusing on the lights below. “And our backs are against the kind of wall we can’t break alone. Rocco Lombardi can not only break that wall, he can obliterate it completely. We can’t refuse.”

Upon their return to Santo Padre, an immediate templo was called, the proposition repeated, a vote cast. It was, just as EZ had anticipated, a unanimous yes. Hell, it wasn’t like any of the men assembled around the table hadn’t known that extreme danger was exactly what he was signing up for, and this was about a risky as it got.

Moving heroin two tons at a time for the mafia was the height of hazardous endeavours, but the payoff would elicit the kind of money and power they had been striving for. Sure, they were still ultimately under someone else’s thumb, but in the world of the MC, Santo Padre rose like the phoenix from the proverbial ashes. If they were careful and exercised caution, they would remain risen, too.

The operation was undertaken with military precision. The two tons of heroin were moved through the tunnels from one side of the border to the other, then stowed away down there for a day before the Mayans arrived, loading one ton into each van. The vehicles both then hit the road, two members within, two members upon motorcycles escorting at the front and rear, and EZ leading the way.

They drove far enough apart not to attract the attention that such a closely assembled convoy likely would, with EZ a quarter of a mile in front, so he could warn of any upcoming complications that might lead to said convoy needing to peel off the freeway. Since the run was done at 2am, the risk of such was minimised greatly, yet still they always prepared for the worst-case scenario. This is why two vans were utilized, when all it truly took was one. If one broke down, then there they were, stuck with a life sentence cargo on the side of the freeway, rather than another means to continue their journey.

Arriving at the port, EZ gave the usual nod to the guard, a guard whose pockets had been nicely lined with mafia cash, who would duly send another of his team down to the container as soon as the Mayans left, standing guard until the cargo was loaded onto a vessel bound either for New York or the far east the following morning. Yes, the tentacles of Rocco Lombardi even reached over to the Yakuza, the Japanese criminal organisation taking two tons of product off his hands on a bi-monthly basis.

The shipment they were about to offload on that particular night was heading straight back to New York, the guys all assembling, the usual banter firing back and forth.

Downer, of course, was at the epicentre of it. “Hey, I thought there was meant to be whores on the dockside? That’s a thing, ain’t it? We’ve been here four times before now and no damned pussy anywhere.”

Angel lit a cigarette, raising his eyebrows. “Man, where the fuck you get that from?”

“He’s right,” Hank chimed in, “but about a couple hundred years out of date. Hookers used to frequent the docks back in the eighteen, nineteen hundreds. Gave lots of navy men who’d been at sea for months at a time a rampant case of the syph.”

Guero couldn’t help himself. “Eighteen hundreds. Back in your youth, huh bro?” He was shot a look of pure distain from Downer, his chirp continuing. “I bet you’d like the crotch rot. You’re a sick enough individual to probably be into it.”

“It’s his kink. Itchy balls and a putrid cock, man,” Bottles interjected with, earning a snort laugh from Guero and an incredulous stare from Downer.

Aggressively delivered middle fingers were raised. “Fuck you and fuck you even fuckin’ harder!”

Bottles grinned at the rise he’d gotten. “You wish.”

“You’re getting way too smart with that fuckin’ yap of yours, prospect,” he snorted, pointing at Guero. “Been spending too much time with him and his big mouth.”

The man himself beamed, pulling his hood up. “What can I say?” He held his arms in wide expression, his smirk growing. “I’m infectious. Like your cock, just way less scabby.” He received a boot in the ass as he turned, heading straight over to the yellow container and hauling the levers to open it. What he expected to see within were the usual lines of packing cases into which they would load their cargo, with a specially marked one housing their cash.

The last thing he expected to see was the body of a dishevelled looking blonde girl with a gash upon her head, lying there out cold, and the marked case notably empty of its usual stack of bills.

“Uh, guys?” he called, appearing back around the container door as his brothers were carrying cargo across from the vans. “We got a situation in here.”

#guero mayans mc #guero mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #guero fanfiction #guero fanfic #guero smut #guero x ofc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic #ez reyes fanfiction #bishop losa fanfiction #bottles mayans mc fanfiction #downer mayans mc fanfiction #angel reyes fanfiction #hank loza fanfiction

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ficnation · 6 months

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Chapter 4: The Love She Holds

Series: “She” Word count: 2,7k+ Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Reader Warnings: 18+; mayans mc typical warnings, unwanted touch, SMUT kinda A/n: What we're all been waiting for ✨ PS. If I reread this one more time before posting I'll probably scrape it all bcs I'm never satisfied 😩 If you enjoyed reading this please reblog and let me know your thoughts!

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For the next few days, Angel can’t look you in the eyes—hell, he can’t even bring himself to leave his room when he hears you shuffling around the apartment. He waits for the sound of the lock shifting in the door before he can bring himself to stick his head out of his safe haven.

Angel knows he’s the one that fucked up this whole thing with you. He was lonely, and you were in his life for such a long ass time. You’ve never let him down—not even once. You are the sweetest person he’s ever met, yet you can still kick his ass when he’s being a dick. Falling in love with you was inevitable, but he didn’t know it would happen so fast—so soon.

The man sighs as he leans his elbows on the wooden counter, listening to the wheezing of the coffee machine as hot black liquid spurts into the mug. The sound was tickling his nerves in a certain—very annoying—way. It didn’t make him even slightly angry before the bath incident, but now he just can’t stand it—it makes his head hurt.

He slams his fist onto the counter, cursing loudly. The coffee spills over the edge of the mug and barely misses his hand.

“I should fuckin’ do something,” he murmurs to himself through clenched teeth. Since when was he afraid to go after a woman he loves? He’s never been a goddamn pussy. What changed?

You are just so different than anyone Angel’s ever been with. He doesn’t want to lose you—can’t fucking stand the thought of you walking away. He has to do something.

He drops Maverick off at Felipe’s house—gives them some abuelo-nieto time while he drives over to the bar where you work. It’s a shithole—a very suspicious one at that—yet the parking lot in front is almost full. The neon sign above the door flashes on and off when Angel slams the door of his car shut. Jesus, it’s gonna give someone a headache or a fucking seizure.

Entering this building was probably one of the worst mistakes in life—the man thinks as he’s greeted by a couple almost going at it by the entrance. The skinny blond dude has his hand down the poor girl’s skimpy skirt as she moans loudly in his ear, hips rolling into his palm. Fucking disgusting.

He was doing the same exact shit back in the day when he was dumb, reckless, and didn’t care about anyone other than himself. But now the view makes him almost gag.

The brunet pushes past the lovebirds—or rather fuckbirds—through the narrow hallway to the main area. The dimmed red lights flashing above his head and the music that makes every wall pulse with the beat make it seem like more of a club rather than a bar. He’s surprised when he takes a few more steps and a woman dressed in booty shorts with her whole tits out passes by him with a tray full of colorful shots. What the fuck is this place?

Angel looks around wildly, searching the topless women’s faces in fear he’ll recognize one of them. He pushes past the swaying bodies in the middle of the room, and then he sees you—working behind the bar.

He’s relieved when he notices that your chest is covered by one of those bralette thingies you like to wear so much. But he’s not sure whether this relief comes from not wanting the pathetic men around the bar to stare at your perfect body or not wanting to get another surprise boner in front of you.

“You didn’t tell me you’re a bartender now,” he yells through the loud music as your gaze finds him, your eyes widening in shock.

You serve one of the men at the bar a bottle of beer, popping the cap simultaneously, then you come back to Angel and squint at him, trying to find a clue as to why he turned up at your workplace and how he even knew where to find you. This bar was almost an hour's drive away from Santo Padre.

“What the hell are you doing here? I do not have time to put up with your shit right now, Angel,” you sneer at him as you lean over the bar in hopes he’ll hear you better, take the hint and retreat back to his car.

“I’m fucking sorry, alright?!” He throws his hands in the air in exasperation, almost knocking a drink out of some poor girl’s hand.

You blink once, then twice, and your eyebrows scrunch up in annoyance, “Fuck off.” You whip around and go the opposite way to serve another customer.

That’s definitely not how Angel imagined this conversation would go. He didn’t know you were that mad at him. He was a moron to think you’d accept his apology without a peep in the middle of a sea of drunk strangers. This wasn’t a goddamn telenovela.

The man sighs deeply in annoyance before following you to the other side of the bar. “Querida, can we talk? Give me five fucking minutes.”

At first, he’s sure you’ll just ignore him as your eyes almost pop out of your skull—that’s how hard you roll them at his words—but then you turn to him with teary eyes. “I’m at work. I can’t. You really couldn’t wait and ambush me when I’m home?”

“It was an impulse,” he admits. Angel knew it was pretty dumb to think that if he came here, you’d drop everything, so he could explain himself and get rid of this guilt that’s been eating him alive for the past few days. “Please, querida.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” you curse under your breath before waving over the other bartender and shouting through the noise to her that you’re taking a break.

You join Angel on the other side of the counter and tug at his kutte, leading him toward the exit. Before you can even reach the hallway, someone bumps into you, their hands grabbing at your naked waist.

“Hey there, bonita,” the man greets you. The smell of his cologne and cigarettes makes your eyes widen—you know it very well.

Angel stands there for a second, his left brow raised in annoyance and confusion because you seem to know this guy—and he really doesn’t like that thought. He pushes the stranger’s hands off your body with a sneer.

“Man, don’t fucking touch her like that.”

You catch Angel’s forearm and squeeze almost painfully, your nails digging into his inked skin. You don’t turn your head toward him even for a quarter of a second.

“The hell? We’re friends, big guy.” The man’s deep voice and graying beard confuse him even more. Since when do you fancy fucking grandpas?

“Uh, Cesar, hi,” you greet him, your voice squeaky and the upward quirk of your lips fake. The second the stranger’s gaze falls over your grip on the brunet’s arm, you release him. “Sorry, I’ve actually just finished my shift.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.” Cesar’s eyebrows and nose scrunch threateningly. Who the fuck is this guy to be talking to you like that?

You reply without missing a beat, “My kid’s got a fever. It’s an emergency.”

The old guy looks between your face and Angel’s before the grimace falls. The smirk taking its place isn’t any less threatening. “You must be the baby daddy, huh?” he asks, but his tone is clearly mocking.

You pray in your head that Angel will hold his short temper at bay. You know, one wrong word to Cesar equals a shit ton of trouble—even the satisfaction of wiping that disgusting smirk off his face wasn’t worth it.

“Mi niña hermosa. So fucking good at riding, she got herself a biker,” Cesar almost moans those words out as his hand finds your hip, fingers toying with the belt loop of your dress pants. You don’t move to slap his hand away.

Angel raises his fist to punch him, his teeth gritting against each other almost audibly. Before he can deliver that hit, you push him aside and usher him out of the door. You don’t say another word to that Cesar guy—not even a goodbye—as he slips a bill into your back pocket and slaps your ass.

Angel is fucking livid because you know how to take care of yourself, he saw you kill a man before, crush his skull with your goddamn boot, and yet you just take the disrespect in silence. It’s not like you.

Once you’re out the door and out of earshot, he explodes. “Why the fuck did you let him treat you like that?!” His voice reverberates through the night air, earning the two of you a few concerned and annoyed glances from the bystanders.

“That’s my boss. Now shut up and take me home,” you mumble, exhausted, looking around the parking lot in search of Angel’s car. “I spent an hour in the car with that dick to even get here, and now I’m going back after not even half of my shift just because you couldn’t wait to talk,” you rant, almost stumbling over your words.

When you reach the car, and he opens the door at the passenger side like always, he’s surprised to catch a glimpse of tears running down your cheeks. He joins you inside with a sigh, concerned eyes finding your head turned away from him as you stare through the side window.

“Cariño, I’m sorry,” Angel whispers, his hand reaching to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with your bare arm. “Every single time I feel like we’re closer than ever and that maybe you feel something toward me too, you fucking push me away.”

“I know, I’m—”

You cut him off before he has a chance to apologize again, “No, I’m speaking right now. You’ve never yelled at me before. Not like that. You scared the shit out of me, and I blamed myself. Wondered what the hell I did to deserve it. But I didn’t do shit.” You throw your arms in the air, gesticulating toward him. You still refuse to meet his eyes. “You fucked up. Not me. You’re the one that’s been playing with my feelings all this time, and god forbid I try to even out the stakes.”

Angel’s now the one tearing up as his eyes widen at your words. “Querida, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t fucking mean it.” His fingers find solace in tugging on his hair in frustration. “And I never wanted you to feel like I’m playing with your feelings. I’m so sorry.”

You turn away from him again, biting your lip to keep the sobs inside. “Please, just drive me home, Angel.” The desperation in your voice is heartbreaking.

So he does what you ask of him and drives you home in silence. He doesn’t have it in him to try again when you’re already struggling, trying to keep the whimpers from wrecking your body. And when you pull up in front of your apartment building with a heavy heart, he lets you jump out of the car and rush to the door.

He stays in his seat, trying to recollect himself—it doesn’t help, he still hates himself for making you feel this way. It takes a while for him to get inside the apartment, he dreads that when he walks in, you’ll tell him to take his shit and get out of your life.

Angel knows he fucked up, and you were right; he played with your feelings—played with his own too. He slept in your bed almost every night, cuddled with you, kissed your forehead and told you ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’. How was it any different from how he’d treat Nails, Luisa, or any other woman he loved? Minus the sex. And when you challenged that unspoken boundary—on purpose or not—he chickened out and treated you like a plague. What the hell was wrong with him?

The apartment is swallowed in darkness when he enters it. You’re nowhere to be seen, and he figures out you’ve probably shut yourself inside your room, maybe even locked the door, so he wouldn’t be able to come in. He wouldn’t blame you.

He sits on the couch in the gloom and stares into the void. He’ll wait for you to come to him once you’re ready—he’ll sit here for hours if he has to. Angel needs to fix this, tell you what’s really been on his mind the past couple of days—tell you how much you mean to him, how much he loves you, and how fucking terrifying it is.

Three hours pass, and he’s almost dozed off on the couch, his head tilted forward, his back slumped, and his eyelids drooping with every second. The wooden floor creaks underneath your footsteps, waking him up completely. The sleepiness evaporates into thin air as he straightens up and finds your frame in the darkness.

You switch on one of the lamps in the corner of the room. Its warm glow takes over its surroundings, but not overwhelmingly so. Angel squints a little as your frame drops onto the couch beside him. You sniffle softly before leaning your head on his shoulder.

His heart shatters just a little bit more, and his voice carries it, breaking in the middle of the sentence, “I’m sorry, cariño.”

You don’t acknowledge his apology—you don’t really need to. Your next words are all the forgiveness he could ever want.

“I love you, Angel,” you mumble against his arm. It’s a quiet confession, yet it echoes in his mind like a mantra.

He feels your tears soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. The man blinks in shock once, or twice, then pulls you into his lap and presses a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“You know I love you too, right? More than any woman I’ve ever loved,” he admits, and it pains him, but it’s the truth.

He loved Luisa and Stephanie, but those feelings pale in comparison to what he feels for you. Angel never experienced this overwhelming want to protect someone from the whole goddamn world—the pure need to spend every single minute of his life with them and care about them more than he’s ever cared about himself. He feels that for you—like he could throw himself into a burning fire if someone promised him his sacrifice would give you and Maverick safety for the rest of your lives.

You straighten up in his arms and cradle his jaw in your palms. When your eyes meet, you see that burning fire in them. He doesn’t need to say anything else—you understand him without words.

Your lips press against his tentatively at first, tasting the love and longing. But Angel has a different idea. He pulls you flush against his chest, hands tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss. His tongue grazes the plush of your lips, and you part them for him without a second thought.

That night, he fucks you on the couch in the middle of your living room, your back pressed against the cushions as he slides inside you with a guttural groan. It’s sweet and needy. The desire you harbored for each other finally released into the world—he’s far past feeling guilty, and sorry for a woman that’s long gone.

Your moans reverberate through the room, and all he can think about is how perfectly he fits inside you—like you were made just for him. One look into your eyes, and he knows you’re thinking the same thing.

Your nails bite into the bare skin of his back, and the pain is so lovely—he could get drunk on it. He pushes deeper and deeper until you’re a whimpering, clenching mess beneath him. It’s a picture that burns into his brain, he’ll never be able to get it out—not that he’ll ever want to.

When he spills inside you with a groan, you pull him flush against your naked frame, cradling his face in your palms and leaving sweet pecks anywhere you can reach.

He’s addicted already, he’ll never be able to give you away now—not a chance in the world. Angel’s love for you is burned into his heart permanently.

Taglist: @neverland14353 @darklydeliciousdesires @spnaquakindgdom @dreamy-caramel @mars469

#“she”#angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #angel reyes series #angel reyes smut #mayans m.c. x reader #mayans x reader #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans MC series #mayans mc smut

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kilojulietsierra · 2 years

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Where He Belongs - Part Two (Mayans Manny x Wife)

So, I really loved the first part of this and I am so happy to see y'all did too! Same as in Part One wife can be read as OFC or female reader.

Warnings: 18+ only, flashback to a conversation, smutty smut, dirty talk, vaginal and anal fingering, unprotected sex, married sex, happily married Manny, Bella makes an appearance, mentions of future/potential pregnancy

Part Two

It was still dark when Manny woke up the next morning and his wife was still sound asleep in the bed next to him. He waited for his eyes to adjust and then checked the faint red numbers of the alarm clock, still more than an hour before they would have to wake Bella up for school.

He listened to the soft, steady breathing next to him and though it was comforting he could not lull himself back to sleep. Instead his mind wandered, back to Santo Padre.

Not to the events of their civil war or to the unrest between clubs, but to a conversation he had with the older Reyes brother.

~~~~ flashback~~~~

Manny was camped on the couch on the front porch, sipping his beer and texting with his wife. He was grinning at a selfie she had just sent of her and Bella when the door to the clubhouse opened and Angel Reyes walked out.

"What are you grinnin' at your fuckin' phone for?" Angel lit a cigarette as he approached.

Manny chuckled and shook his head, "Busted." He took a sip of his beer and tilted the phone so Angel could see, "My girls."

Angel leaned over to look, out of decency more than interest, until he actually saw Manny's wife, "Damn."

"Mhmm." Manny grinned and locked the phone and shoved it in is his pocket. They stayed in silence a minute.

Manny noticed the awkwardness of the moment but was observant enough to know that Angel hadn't left yet for a reason.

Halfway through his cigarette Reyes spoke up again, "She one of the club girls?"

With a laugh Manny shook his head, "Nah, I known her since I was a teenager. Never had nothin' to do with all this till we got together." He took another sip of his beer, "She grew up on a ranch on the border, but her uncle runs a mechanic shop in town. She worked the front counter all through high school. Now she does the books and runs the office for him." He chuckled, "I bought this old piece of shit, junker car my junior year 'cause she had just started helpin' him out. I don't even know how much money I spent on that piece of shit buying parts just so I could talk to her a minute or two."

"That's just sad." Angel scoffed but settled against the railing. "That's some real, sickly sweet, high school sweetheart shit."

Manny laughed, "Nah, don't get it twisted, she didn't give two shits about me back then. Just another punk ass kid wastin' her time."

"She come around though when you patched in?" Angel assumed the bad boy vibe won her over eventually. Sucking his teeth Manny shook his head, "We were just barely talkin' finally when I prospected in. She didn't hate on it but said she didn't really understand it either. I still don't think she was planning on sticking around at that point." Manny hid another smile against the mouth of his beer bottle. "She'd got to know some of the guys, few of their old ladies, how the club thing worked. By the time we got pregnant I think she finally had figured out they were like a surrogate family for me."

"You knock her up on accident?" Angel snarked at the other Mayan but secretly was hoping Manny might have some more 'sage advice'.

"Shit, any of us ever do it on purpose?" They both laughed, "I wasn't even old enough to buy my own beer, she was in her first month of college... last thing we planned on was havin' a baby."

"That when y'all got married?"

"Fuck no!" Manny threw his head back with another laugh, "I mean listen, I tried, but she wasn't havin' it." He shook his head and kicked his feet up on the porch rail. "Once we got done panicking, we talked it out, she decided she wanted to keep it, I knew I wanted her and the baby, so I did the right thing." Another smile, "And she shot me right the fuck down."

Angel furrowed his brow, "For real?"

"Mhmmm..." Angel was confused, flabbergasted, "But y'all are married?"

"Yeah, only took me like five damn tries!" Manny was enjoying retelling the story too much. He had softened up and felt like oversharing. "Our little girl was standin' up, saying 'mami', 'papi' before we actually got married." With a chuckle he added, a little softer, "The first time I asked her, right after she decided she wanted to keep the baby, she looked me dead in the eye and said, 'Emanuel, I love you, but I can't marry you. We aren't ready yet.' And every time I asked her after that she said the same thing, 'Not yet."

"You put up with all that? Stuck around?" Angel still squinted, brow furrowed, cigarette forgotten.

"Fuck yes I did. I knew we were the real deal. Lookin' back she was right. We were stupid kids tryin' to raise a kid. We didn't know what the fuck we were doing. But, we loved each other, we both knew that, and we loved our little girl. We mighta done some shit out of sequence, but we figured it out, and we're stronger and smarter for it."

Angel found himself nodding repeatedly, mind racing, "And so she just... is okay with all this shit? I mean she had your kid, she married you. Now she's stuck at home with the kid, by herself, while you're a state away doin' some outlaw shit."

Manny snorted, "My lady man, I hope you get to meet her one of these days, then you'll see. Her life don't revolve around me and the shit I get up to, she's got her own life, she only does old lady shit when she needs too." His face hardened suddenly, "But nah, she's not the kind of old lady that you leave sitting at home feeding your babies and waiting to suck your dick when you get back from a run. That ain't the move brother. Your woman, she's your partner, you and her against the world. Want some advice? You, your woman and this baby you're about to have... don't forget that all that exists outside of the club. We don't always get to be there to make sure the car gets fixed and the bills get paid, so make sure she knows how to handle shit. Make sure she knows that when you're gone you're bustin' your ass to get home and that when you are home... you're really there."

~~~~ end flashback~~~~

Laying in bed in the dark he remembered when Canche had given him the same advice all those years ago. He smirked, Canche had seen clear as day that the two of them would make it. He'd told both of them so at different times in those early, uneasy days.

Next to him she shifted in her sleep and Manny couldn't help but reach for her, pull her naked body back against his own and sigh into her hair. His grip on her was tight and he had to fight back the flinch when he felt fingers brush against his arm.

"You okay?" Her voice was faint and half asleep.

"I'm okay mama, go back to sleep." He whispered back, kissing her shoulder as he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

She sighed and wiggled a little in his grasp before settling, "Feels good."

Manny smiled and hummed against her shoulder, dropping another kiss there. His hum turned into a soft groan when she wiggled against him again, "Mama…"

"Hmm?" She shifted slighty, twisted her body to look over her shoulder. The motion causing her hips to twist just slightly, so that his rapidly hardening dick settled perfectly between her ass cheeks.

He groaned again, flattening his hand out wide over her stomach, pressing her tighter against him, "Now I know you're playin' with me." He could hear her smile, that's how well he knew her, she made no sound or movement but he could feel her smiling in the short distance between them.

"That sounds good too…" With the obvious smile in her sleepy, morning voice, she guided his hand lower until she parted her legs slightly and encouraged him to touch her there.

Confidently he swiped his long, middle finger through her folds and could not control the thrust of his hips against her when he felt she was silky smooth and soaking wet. "Jesus baby." He breathed in her ear as he tugged her as close as possible and repeated to motion. Her hips twitching as he grazed her clit with the rough pad of his finger, "Want me to play with you?" He ground his erection against her hip searching for some relief while he waited for her answer.

"Yes please." She craned her neck searching for his lips.

Even in the dark he found them easily. He devoured her, kissing her long and slow, sloppy. He brought the arm behind her head up and held her there, head cradled against his bicep as he kissed her. His other hand continued to swipe the same, long, lazy finger through her folds over and over again, not stopping until he had to pull himself away to breathe. "Roll over." He breathed against her lips and savored the soft drag of her body against his as she rolled over and settled onto her stomach.

She wiggled, knowing what was coming. She loved this. When he would lay her on her stomach and tease her, please her, shower her sleepy body with the attention it craved early in the morning.

His right arm stayed tucked under her head and his body stayed close to hers, but his left hand wandered. Smoother, wide and warm, over the soft expanse of her back. In long, slow, strokes he would caress from her shoulder blade, over her ribs, over her hip and down to the swell of her ass. Dipping between her legs there to tease one single finger through the wetness before sliding his hand up the line of her spine. Where his fingers would circle the back of her neck and apply the slightest pressure before sliding further up her neck to sink his fingers into her hair to massage her scalp.

Manny would continue this motion over and over, occasionally varying his path or pressure. Sometimes he would graze the side of her breast or his fingers would reach a little further around her throat before he applied some pressure. She knew from experience that he could do this for hours depending on how he felt or how she responded.

This morning he was greedy. He eventually began to slip his hand under her completely to grope her breast, dragging her nipple between his fingers as he pulled away. His hand would paw at her ass cheek, squeezing it, jiggling it, even daring to spank her once, sharply enough to hear loud and clear in the silence. Worst of all… or best depending… he began lingering longer and longer between her legs. Finally pushing a finger, that same long and well practiced middle finger, inside her making them both moan. Then he added another and began to move them in and out, only once or twice before he would remove them and use them to drag her wetness over her puckered asshole.

This motion earned him a jerk of her hips each time and eventually he gave up on everything but that. He would fuck his fingers into her until her hips raised off the bed, begging him for more. Then he would remove them from her pussy to circle them around her second hole sending her hips back to the bed and her muscles clenching.

She was moaning into her pillow, breathless and wanting, her arms folded underneath her head and fingers gripping the sheets. "Manny… "

Hearing his name jerked him out of the trance he had slipped into. He slid his fingers down the crease of her behind and smoothly shoved his middle and forefinger into her pussy as far as they could go. His voice rasped against her ear, "Does that feel good baby?"

"Mhmm." She moaned as she once again raised her hips up from the bed, accepting the lazy thrusting of his fingers in and out of her.

Testing the waters he removed them again to circle around her asshole and she moaned again, this time though she kept her hips raised and rocked her hips the slightest bit side to side in time with his fingers. Manny half moaned, half sighed into the back of her shoulder as he continued.

Manny was an ass man and his wifes was perfect. He loved the way it looked in her jeans, the way it fit in his hands, the way it tasted on his tongue, the way it felt on his cock. She loved when he played with her there, teased her there with his fingers and his tongue. And much to Mannys enjoyment she would occasionally be in such a mood that she loved having him fuck her there.

This morning wasn't one of those moods, he could tell, but she was a horny, writhing mess, falling apart beside him as he alternated between sticking two long, thick fingers deep in her pussy and then pressing the tip of his ring finger into her puckered little asshole.

"You gonna come for me mami? Want me to keep playing with you?" He once again circled some of her own wetness around her hole before teasing his finger through the tight muscle. When he removed that finger he sucked her earlobe into his mouth and bit down on it gently before whispering in her ear, "Or do you want papi to fuck you?" and he shoved his two fingers knuckle deep into her nearly vibrating pussy.

That little show earned him a harsh bite to the bicep he was cradling her with but she was moaning while she rolled the skin between her teeth.

Manny smiled and kissed her neck, her cheek and then her lips before sitting up and pulling away from her. He grabbed his pillow, shoving it behind the headboard, then grabbed hers from underneath her, dragging it under the length of her torso to wedge it underneath her hips. He quickly settled behind her and grabbed ahold of her ass with both hands, squeezing and jiggling it before pulling back and landing one more sharp slap against the right cheek.

Her head snapped around and glared at him, one finger pressed against her lips, "Shh!" Her eyes were angry for a split second but immediately went back to pure desire as she took in her husband behind her. The faint light starting to come through the window illuminated his lean and well cut body in the grey early morning light and she could see him mouth out the words, "Sorry baby." While his right hand stroked the length of his cock.

She watched over her shoulder mesmerized as he braced himself on his knees and tugged her backwards to where he wanted her. With one hand he notched the head of his cock against her entrance and the other he splayed flat on her lower back to steady her. He licked his lips and winked at her before he let a drop of spit fall from his mouth to land on her already wet pussy then with his bottom lip between his teeth he used the head of his cock to smear the spit over her opening, mixing it with her own juices, and then pushed his hips forward.

He entered her in one long, perfect stroke and didn't stop until he met the resistance of her cervix.

Beneath him his wife moaned loudly and he leaned forward over her. Hips still rocking in and out as he pressed his lips to her ear and growled, "Better be quiet, remember." With one hand he lightly tapped her on the ass, reminding her of when she had shushed him a bit ago. "I need to put something in your mouth?"

In retaliation to his words she pushed her weight back into her hips and swayed them side to side. Manny lost his rhythm and his balance for a second and fell further forward against her. He hissed against her ear, "Fuck, do that again." She wiggled her hips side to side, as if she was riding him except from the bottom, "Shit, you know I love that mami, come and get it, chase that dick." He pulled out of her about halfway and waited.

Instead she clenched the muscles of her core around him and turned to look at him over her other shoulder, "Rub my clit and I will." She wasn't teasing or being flirty now, only telling him what she needed and he gladly obliged.

Holding his weight up on his left elbow he grabbed hold of her hand from under the pillow, threaded their fingers together and brought them to his mouth. Her pussy clamped down around him again as she watched at an awkward angle. Manny took their fingers into his mouth, two of hers and one of his, and sucked on them. Swiping his tongue around each of them until they were all wet with his saliva. Then he pulled them from his mouth with a pop and expertly moved their hands together, down to rub at her clit.

"Fuck!" She cried into the pillow and her muscles clamped around his cock again, still only sitting halfway inside her.

"C'mon mami, bring that ass back and take papis dick." His words were breathy and harsh against her ear, his breath hot and strained.

Neither of them were going to last long.

When she scooted back and rocked her hips, taking the length of him again they both moaned, more so when she started to sway her hips side to side. Manny bit the back of her shoulder as he fought not to move with her, concentrating on swiping their fingers over her clit in time with her movements and ever so often flexing so that his cock would pulse and jump inside her.

"Shit baby, shit I'm gonna cum… fuck I'm so close, please…" Her voice was still a whisper but it was trembling with the rest of her.

Manny groaned and stroked her clit faster, "I got you baby," He took back control and began slamming his hips into her as hard and deep as he could, "Fuck, I'm right there with you, this pussy is too good mami, so fucking good." His hips were starting to stutter and his thrusts were less controlled. He dropped his weight onto her completely keeping their hands beneath her but now using the motion of his hips and his weight to grind her clit down over their fingers in time with his thrusts.

"Oh god!" Her hips flattened out, chasing the tingling in her clit and Manny was able to go just a little bit deeper.

Hitting that spot hidden deep inside her until he felt her start to shake and convulse under him and around him, "That's right mami, gimme that…" he groaned before he could finish his sentence, his release taking over as he emptied himself into her greedy pussy. He was breathless as he fought to hold his weight off her, his body still jerking and twitching with his orgasm. "Holy shit…"

Every time his body twitched or shuddered his wife's body responded in kind, clenching or pulsing around him and it was a delicious cycle of aftershocks.

They both enjoyed the feeling until Manny noticed the numbness in his hand that was trapped under her hips. He pulled back, pulling out of her with a messy gush of cum and a string of breathy curse words in Spanish. Manny untangled himself from her and fell to the side, trying to catch his breath.

Beside him his wife was still shaking slightly, her face still buried in the pillows.

Manny stroked a thumb over the palm of her hand, sticky with her own wetness, working the circulation back into it until she moved to look at him. Once her eyes met his he brought her fingers to his mouth again to lick and suck them until they were clean.

With a giggle she buried her head back into the pillows and relaxed completely. "Good morning." She mumbled.

Manny laughed, stretched his arms up over his head and sank back into the bedding , "Morning beautiful."

~~~

When she came out of their bedroom showered and dressed in cutoffs and a tank top Manny looked up from the stove with a smile. "Morning beautiful." He threw her a wink as he turned back to the quesadilla he was flipping on the burner.

"Morning mami!" Bella was bouncing up and down on one of the kitchen stools with a mouthful of food.

Manny watched as his wife padded across the kitchen, "Morning mija." She kissed their daughter on the head and then turned to him. She took in the sight of him shirtless and barefoot in just a pair of basketball shorts, "Morning handsome." They gave each other a quick kiss as she passed him on her way to the coffee pot. "Quesadilla's for breakfast?"

"Papi said he'd make whatever I wanted!" Bella spun around on the stool again and again, "So we're having quesadillas and then he's gonna take us to Starbucks on the way to school!"

Manny met his wife's eyes over her coffee cup and winked at her again. "So, you better hurry up and eat if y'all want your Starbucks." He cut up a second quesadilla handing half to her and took a bite of the other half himself.

"Says the one who isn't even dressed yet." She arched her eyebrows at him and leaned against the island next to Bella.

Manny wiped off the skillet and turned the heat off shaking his head. He walked behind his wife on his way towards the bedroom and placed his hands on her hips, leaning to whisper in her ear, "Go ahead ma, pretend you're complainin'." He gave her a pinch to her thigh and kiss to her temple. He spoke up and pointed at Bella, "Okay finish eating and then clean up for mama yeah?"

Bella nodded shoving the rest of her quesadilla in her mouth and hurrying to tidy up the kitchen.

"Happy to have tu papa home aren't you?" She ran her fingers through her daughters hair as she watched her stack the plates in the sink. The smile on her face said it all. "Yo tambien mija, yo tambien."

She helped her daughter clean up and they were done just in time for Manny to come back dressed and ready to go. "Entonces, quien quiere cafe hmm?" Manny ushered them both out the door, his kutte in one hand and keys to his wifes SUV in the other, "Venga, venga, venga!"

Bella went running ahead of them, her backpack bouncing as she ran to the driveway and climbed into the seat before either of her parents could even get out the front door. "The last thing that girl needs is anything with caffeine in it."

Manny chuckled as they walked to the car, "We'll get her teacher a good bottle of wine for teacher appreciation day."

"Very smooth, very smooth. Still though... Starbucks for breakfast, really?"

He smiled as he opened the passenger door and held it open for his wife, "Anything for my girls." He had been gone too long to not spoil them a little.

She drops her voice quieter, "What're you gonna do if we have a boy this time?" Her smile is a little shy but also bright and hopeful.

Manny beamed, "Enjoy a fair fight for a change."

His wife shoved at him playfully, "Just for that I'm gonna do my best to make sure it's a girl. So you're outnumbered the rest your life."

He was still smiling when she climbed into the passenger seat, "You know that's the way I like it." He winked at her as he shut the door and walked around to the drivers side.

~~~

Thank you all for reading!

#mayans #mayans mc #mayans manny #manny mayans #manny x wife!ofc #manny x ofc #manny x reader #manny montana

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

Text

Left Behind

Nestor Oceteva x Erin Thomas

For Day 21 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: scars / "It's just a scratch."

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, mentions of blood/injury, alcohol

This fic is technically a follow-up to Doctor Recommended but it can be read as a standalone.

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: I went into this with whump in mind and somehow it turned into smut. So. You know. We're being generous with calling this a whump fic lmao. Also I write smut once maybe every five thousand years?? So go easy on me. Honestly, mj said that they need to make out and fuck on the counter and they were so right!!! So here goes!!!

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @gemini0410 @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @artemiseamoon @nessamc @withmyteeth @crowfootwrites @beardburnsupersoldiers @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @narcolini @darqchilddaydreamz @passionatewrites @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

There was a specific type of stillness in the house since Miguel, Emily, and Cristobal had left. Erin was looking forward to having the entire Galindo mansion all to herself. She knew better than to ask why she hadn’t been part of the family invite to go to whatever event for whatever cover business Miguel was currently opening. The reality was that they were doing her a favor leaving her behind, because it wasn’t like she would’ve had a good time anyway.

She’d had her music on, for the entire afternoon, content to relax and enjoy herself with no spectators around for once. As the afternoon started to fade into the evening, she let herself into Emily’s extensive stash of wine. She figured that it wasn’t as though her sister was really going to notice a bottle or two missing—reality was that someone would probably replace them before anyone else besides Erin even knew that they were gone.

She was upstairs, changing and swapping out her regular clothes for her pajamas. Her cropped t-shirt being exchanged for an over-sized one, jeans being traded in for a pair of soft shorts. She was in the middle of that when she heard the door shutting downstairs.

Neither Miguel nor Emily had mentioned anything about anyone stopping by while they were gone for the next couple of days. Erin figured that maybe one of the various people they hired to help take care of the house, the pool, the garden, the whatever, might stop by at some point. But it was a little late for that. She frowned for a moment, leaning down and reaching underneath what had become her bed for the baseball bat that she’d gotten to keep under there after the last time she got scared and realized that all she had to defend herself were her own two hands.

Emily had laughed and rolled her eyes when Erin came home with it. And why wouldn’t she? Why would a woman whose husband had a whole security team dedicated to keeping her safe and running interference ever feel like she needed an extra line of protection? But Erin didn’t trust anyone enough to not have a failsafe. She definitely didn’t have enough faith in Miguel to trust him blindly.

Creeping quietly across the hallway that led to the staircase, Erin kept her bat raised and at the ready. Her bare feet were silent on the staircase as she slowly made her way down. She was nearly to the bottom step when whoever it was that had entered the house turned her music down. She frowned, adjusting her grip around the handle before stepping onto the first floor of the house.

She heard someone’s footsteps coming from the kitchen, and she felt herself holding her breath as she waited to catch sight of whoever it was, or hear them. There was the muffled clattering of things hitting the counter. She took a couple more steps towards the kitchen when she caught a quick glimpse of him, shuffling around the kitchen putting things away.

She sighed, arms dropping back to her sides, tip of the bat tapping harshly against the hardwood floor. “What the fuck, Nestor?”

He materialized, stepping out around the dividing wall between the kitchen and the rest of the house. “What?”

She made a broad gesture with her empty hand. “Do you ever think to announce yourself? Say hello, maybe?”

“Who else would it be?”

She pointed the bat at him. “That’s exactly my fucking point.”

He shrugged. “Least you brought a bat with you this time.”

Despite the initial urge to laugh at his comment, Erin mentioned to refrain. In turn, she made her own reference to the run-in they’d had about a month prior. “Least you can use both arms this time.”

He didn’t smile but Erin could see the way that he almost wanted to. Perching the bat against her shoulder, she strode into the kitchen. Nestor waited for her to say something else, but when she didn’t, he went back to the task he’d been engrossed in before. Erin leaned against her side of the island, watching as he put things away. All the time that she’d been spending at Emily and Miguel’s house, and she still couldn’t say with certainty if there was anything that necessarily fell outside of Nestor’s scope of responsibility.

“Thought you would’ve been part of the family vacation,” she finally said.

Nestor shrugged, not turning around to face her as he replied, “Could say the same about you.”

Erin laughed at that. “Emily treats me like a feral cat—she’ll feed me at home but she’s sure as shit not gonna bring me anywhere.” She paused. “What’s your excuse?”

He pulled out a bottle of wine, same label as the one that was already on the counter and nearly empty. “Taking care of the feral cat.”

She laughed again. “Oh, he has a sense of humor.” She finally set the bat down, leaning it against the side of the island. “Just takes being in an empty house.” There was a stretch of silence before Erin spoke up again. “You don’t have to stay. Feels like a waste of time.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Right. You have a bat.”

She smirked. “Exactly. See? You get it. So go home.”

“Can’t,” he said with another shake of his head.

Erin rolled her eyes. “Your boyfriend isn’t here—you don’t have to listen to him. I’m not gonna snitch on you to Mike if you actually decide to go and try to have a life for the next forty-eight hours.”

“Erin,” exasperation was dripping off the singular word, so much so that he didn’t even have to say anything else.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes as she walked over to the speaker that her phone was hooked up to, turning the volume back up a bit as she continued, “but you don’t get to turn my music off.”

The two of moved around each other, both working separately in the same space. Nestor was putting away the last few things that he’d brought, and Erin was finally starting to pull something together for dinner. For as much as Nestor wanted to reach over and turn the music back down, he did have to admit that the noise made it so that he didn’t feel like he was supposed to be entertaining some kind of conversation. Erin had no problem doing most of the talking anyway, but this was all much more Nestor’s speed.

Erin was reaching for something in the same cabinet as Nestor when she saw a stain on his sleeve. Normally it wasn’t something that she would notice or pay much mind to, but the rust color that was tarnishing the floral print of his button-down was difficult to ignore.

“What happened to your arm?” she asked, her tone casual as she moved back to the stove.

Nestor’s brows furrowed as he turned his arm over to look at what exactly she was referring to. He frowned, more out of annoyance than pain. Shaking his head, he said, “Nothing.”

Erin chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think you know what that word means.”

He didn’t want to feed into the argument but before he could stop himself, he said, “It’s fine.”

She stopped, turning so that she was facing him. “It’s nothing,” she mocked, “It’s fine. It’s just a scratch.” She shook her head at him. “You’re gonna lose that arm, dude.”

Nestor took a deep breath, like he was gearing up to have some sort of response that would stop the debate before it began. Instead, he let out a sigh and finished up what he was doing, shutting the cabinet when he was done. Without another word, he turned and started to walk out of the kitchen, giving Erin the space she had clearly been looking forward to having when everyone else had left.

He didn’t even make it past the threshold when she spoke up. “Let me see it.” She watched as he turned around, confusion on his face. “Let me see your arm,” she elaborated.

Nestor wanted to ask why, wanted to have some sort of slick, sarcastic comment in response to the question the same way she seemed to have one for everything that he, or anyone else really, ever said. Nothing came out, though. He simply just shook his head.

“I’m serious,” she said as she took a step in his direction.

“Since when?”

She scoffed. “You know, what? Fine.” She threw her hands up in defeat. “But when you have to get that shit amputated, I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”

The cut really hadn’t been that bad. It hadn’t even needed stitches. And, coming off having to wear a sling for the last month, it hardly even made a blip on his radar. Still, despite the fact that Erin was talking like she was going to give up on the whole thing, Nestor knew better. She was nothing if not incessant. With a deep sigh, he walked back over, undoing the buttons at the cuff of his sleeve as he went.

Rolling the fabric back, Nestor revealed the white gauze that was wrapped around his forearm. Well, the gauze had started off white. It was almost entirely red now, the gash running up his forearm having reopened at some point throughout the day when he hadn’t realized it. He was looking down at the blood-soaked bandage, clearly unimpressed.

When his eyes wandered back up to Erin’s face, he couldn’t get a good read on her expression. It wasn’t really one that he’d seen on her before. He stood and waited for the joke, the jab, but it never came. He watched her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. Shaking her head, she turned around and went to shut the stove off, clearly abandoning whatever plans she’d had for making dinner for herself.

“What?” he finally asked.

She gestured to the bandage. “You can’t leave it like that.”

He shrugged. “I can take care—”

“Obviously, you can’t. Or won’t. Either way…” her voice trailed off as she walked out of the kitchen and went off to get something to replace the bandage with.

Nestor called after her, but she didn’t even give him a verbal response. All he got was a good look at the back of her head and a waving-off gesture as she went off to do exactly what she wanted to and nothing less.

When she came back, she had a first aid kit in her hands. Nestor watched her from where he was seated at the island. His arm was perched against it, a dish towel keeping him from getting blood all over the countertop.

She set the first aid kit onto the surface of the island next to him. She studied his forearm before she looked him in the eyes again. “Couldn’t take the bandage off while I was gone?”

“I told you it’s fine,” he repeated, no real emotion coming through his voice one way or another.

She rolled her eyes. “How have you lived this long when you have no self-preservation skills?”

Nestor could sense that the question was rhetorical, so he kept his mouth shut as he watched her start to slowly peel away and unravel the gauze that was wrapped around his forearm. The pull of it against the cut that was trying to clot stung every now and then, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t let it show.

The more gauze she unraveled, the more Erin realized that the cut was more serious than she had originally thought. She noticed the way that it continued up underneath his sleeve, skin she didn’t have access to. Exhaling through her nose, she looked up at the ceiling for a second before looking back at Nestor.

“You’re not going to make me ask, are you?”

He lifted is eyebrows slightly. “Ask what?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “So you are going to make me ask, make me feel like some kind of creep.” She tapped the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. “Take this off.”

Much to Erin’s surprise, Nestor didn’t bat an eye at the request. She figured that he would drag it out, or just outright refuse. But he just reached and started to undo the buttons on his dress-shirt. He wasn’t looking at her as he said, “Wasn’t a question, but alright.”

She laughed quietly. “Can’t say no if it’s not a question.”

That got half of a smirk out of him. Erin was picking through the kit on the counter. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, out of the corner of her eye she couldn’t help but to notice all of the ink on his chest and stomach. She expected him to have on a tank top or a t-shirt underneath—it was a surprise but it wasn’t one that she was upset about.

Her eyes were still trained on the bandages in the first aid kit as she said, “No undershirt? Seems a little scandalous for the workplace.”

Nestor huffed out something that was almost a chuckle. “Wasn’t expecting to have to take my shirt off.”

She looked over at him then, eyes moving even though her head didn’t. “That’s fair.”

That was the last comment she made about it as she went back to taking off what little gauze was still wrapped around his arm. She promptly tossed the bloodied bandage into the trash can before grabbing a washcloth to run under warm water, something to clean off the dried blood that was still stuck to his skin.

Nestor was surprised at how careful and gentle she was as she cleaned the blood away. With someone who seemed to move through life with nothing but reckless abandon, he wasn’t mentally prepared for her to have such a deft hand with this. He didn’t comment on it, though.

“Should I even bother asking how this happened?” Erin couldn’t even try to venture a guess. Despite what Nestor had said to her before, it was much more than just a scratch. If it had been any worse he definitely would’ve needed stitches. He probably still needed to get it checked out by a professional but she was sure that that hadn’t happened. Then he’d have to give some doctor an explanation that wasn’t whatever illegal activities had most definitely caused the injury.

He didn’t want to tell her, but he didn’t want to lie to her, either. So, he shook his head. “No.”

She smiled even though she knew she probably shouldn’t. “Right.”

Even though Nestor very rarely took the time to take as much care of his injuries as he should, he did know basic first aid. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but his default was thinking that Erin probably didn’t. He kept a close eye on her as she worked. Even with the music in the background, it still felt like the house was extremely quiet. Nestor was watching Erin and her singular focus on his arm, the way that she finished cleaning and started wrapping it back up again. He had been waiting for an opportunity to advise or correct her, but it didn’t happen.

He wanted to ask her how she got so good efficient at it, why she was able to do it so confidently, but he had the feeling that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of her. He watched with piqued interest as she tied off the last of the gauze, the small knot resting on his arm just enough to the side where it wouldn’t get in the way of him comfortably resting his arm against the counter or anything else.

She finally pried her eyes from his arm and looked back up at his face. “Any other injuries I should know about?”

He shook his head, fighting harder than he cared to admit to keep a neutral expression—he’d never hear the end of it if he let her know that he was impressed. “No.”

Shrugging, she walked back towards the sink. “Alright.”

Now that she didn’t have to devote her focus to the open wound on his arm, Erin took a moment to actually look at the rest of him. She knew that she shouldn’t have been surprised, necessarily, to find out that most of him was covered in tattoos, but she still found herself staring longer than she should’ve as she scrubbed his blood from her hands.

When she looked back up at his face, she found him already staring at her. Her face suddenly felt hot and this warmth wasn’t coming from the wine she’d been drinking all evening. Clearing her throat, she reached and shut the faucet off. “Shit’s probably gonna scar,” she said, nodding towards his arm as she dried her hands. “It’s probably going to mess up your ink.”

He shook his head, holding his button-down in his hand but not making any move to put it back on yet. “I’m used to it.”

Erin chuckled, not sure what else was a proper response to that statement. “Good? I guess?” She shook her head as she walked back over to him. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”

“You always come up with something.”

It wasn’t untrue. However, now that she was closer to him, she had a hard time coming up with something to say about anything. She looked at his other tattoos, all of the ink splattered across his chest and down his arms, territory that was usually buried underneath one of what seemed like a thousand different floral dress shirts. And, sure enough, when she looked closely at a few of them, she could see the blemishes, scars that broke up what used to be perfect lines and seamless shading. All that damage and for what?

Before she even knew what she was doing, Erin reached out and traced her fingertips along one of the raised scars that was just below Nestor’s shoulder, running parallel to it and stopping just before it reached his arm. He didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch in the slightest. But it only took a couple seconds for Erin to realize what she was doing, quickly yanking her hand back as embarrassment flooded her face, a look that Nestor wasn’t acquainted with on her.

“Shit. Sorry. That,” she laughed nervously, “that was fucking weird of me.”

“It’s fine.” The words didn’t match up with the neutral expression on his face, but neutral was the best Nestor could do as he tried to figure out what he was actually feeling.

Erin laughed, shaking her head. “No, it’s n—” She stopped herself short when she finally looked him in the eyes again, the look in them one that she hadn’t seen before.

Nestor watched the embarrassment melt away from her expression the longer that she stood there looking at him. She wanted to say something, do something, but never in her life had she been able to gauge what Nestor was actually feeling or thinking. The last thing she wanted to do was make this situation anymore volatile than she already had. Part of her wanted to try and walk away, but it felt like her feet were glued to the floor.

Unable to make herself do anything else, she reached and rested her hand against him again, fingertips brushing over his scar, the tattoo that it cut through, her palm resting just far enough onto his chest for her to be able to feel how quickly his heart was hammering away in his chest. Her eyes slowly pried away until she was looking at his face again, and she was met with an expression that even though she’d never seen it on him, she knew exactly what it meant.

Nestor saw the way that she opened her mouth to say something, and he didn’t give her the chance to. Before either of them could fully process what was happening, Nestor was up out of his chair, shirt falling to the floor, crowding her back against the edge of the island as his lips crashed into hers.

There was no resistance, like she’d been expecting it, hoping for it. She pushed up into him, her hand sliding up just enough to grip onto his shoulder, nails digging in like a cue to give her more. He had one hand braced against the edge of the counter on either side of her, caging her in. He leaned against her more, the heat radiating off his chest enough to soak through her shirt onto her own skin.

She brought both hands up, resting them on either side of his neck for a moment before allowing them to slide down, fingers splaying as they raked over his chest. She lightly pulled his lip between her teeth as she pulled away. Even when they’d come back up for air, their lips weren’t even an inch apart, each of them able to feel the other’s unsteady breaths.

“Fuck,” the word came out hushed, nearly buried underneath her breath and the music that was still filling the kitchen.

Nestor hesitated, trying to figure out if that reaction was a good one or a bad one. He didn’t move, waiting for some other cue from her about whether he should leave, or whether he should keep going. He knew which of those options he was hoping it’d be.

He was about to ask if she was okay when she slid her hands back up, interlocking them behind his neck so that she could pull him back down into another kiss. Nestor wasted no time in obliging, bringing his hands to the small of her back for a moment before sliding them down over her ass until they were resting on the backs of her thighs. Without pulling his lips off of hers, Nestor lifted her up, hooking her legs around his waist as he set her on the edge of the island.

He brought his hands to the tops of her thighs, digging his fingers into the flesh there enough so that he could pull her closer, tighter, until the only space between his hips and hers were the clothes between them. He felt her lock her legs tighter around him, not allowing either of them space to pull away as his hands crept up her legs.

Nestor pulled his lips off hers only to drag them along her jaw and down onto her neck. He grazed his teeth along the sensitive skin there, feeling the way her nails sank into the exposed skin of his back as he did. She could feel the way his lips curled into the first real smile she’d ever gotten out of him as one of his hands slipped up well past the hem of her shorts, thumb finding the space where her thigh met her hip.

She caught his lips with hers as his hand strayed between her legs. He eagerly swallowed the moan she let out as he pulled her panties to the side, allowing him to feel what he’d done to her. If there had been any hesitation left in his body at all, it was gone the second he felt her grinding against his hand. She more than willingly took whatever he was giving her, one of her hands resting against the back of his head to keep his lips pinned to hers as she tried to pull more and more from him.

When he recoiled the slightest bit, putting just a fraction of distance between them, Erin couldn’t stop the whine that escaped her. Nestor’s eyes bore into hers, tongue running along his bottom lip as he tried to commit the sound to memory. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face as his hands landed on the waistband of her shorts. He was twisting his fingers into the fabric as he took in the hazy look in her eyes, her kiss-swollen lips.

He felt like he was supposed to have something to say, but that’d never been his strong suit. Instead, he gave a slight tug at her waistband, a wordless call for assistance. Bracing her hands against his shoulders, she obliged, lifting her hips off the island just enough to slide her shorts down off of them. She unhooked her legs from around his waist, allowing him to put space between them just enough so that he could slide them off and let them drop to the floor.

His lips were back on hers in a second, hand trailing down over the fabric of her shirt, only to slip underneath it and travel their way back up, calloused hands traveling over the soft skin of her stomach and sides. It was only then that he realized that Erin had some unexplained scars of her own, the ridges and divots of them passing beneath the pads of his fingers. Questions for another night.

He’d been so distracted by his own wandering hands that he almost missed the way that hers were now working at the buckle of his belt. She made quick work of it, not having any issues despite the fact that she was flying blind. Nestor’s breath caught in his throat as she undid the button and zipper of his slacks as well.

Nestor took the cues he’d been given, hands moving to grip onto her hips. She let him guide her forward, precarious on the edge of the counter but she trusted him not to let her drop. The string of raspy curses that Nestor let out as he slid into her made a smirk pull at the edge of her mouth for just a moment before her mouth was back on his again.

Erin had one hand on his shoulder, one wrapped around the edge of the counter to keep herself steady. There was something in the fierceness of his grip, how tightly he kept his hold on her, that almost made Erin want to put up a bit of a fight. She wanted to make him work for it, just because she could. But he felt too good sliding in and out of her to try and make him stop or slow down now. Next time.

Nestor moved one hand, temporarily releasing the bruising grip he had on her hips as he brought his hand up to the side of her face. His hand rested there, thumb dragging along her cheekbone for a moment until she pulled her lips off of his. The softness of the gesture in contrast to everything else had caught her off-guard. He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, watching the way she fought to get her composure back, a pointless task if ever there was one.

He lingered, thumb against her chin, lips mere centimeters from hers. He wondered how long he was going to be able to drag the moment out for. However, he’d hardly finished thinking the thought when Erin wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him farther into her and putting his lips back against hers in a clumsy, needy kiss.

It was all hands and teeth and shuddered breath as the two of them fought just to see how close they could get. The intensity had caught Erin off-guard coming from someone who never seemed to bat an eye or be enthusiastic about anything. It was almost like he was a completely different man sinking his teeth into the space where her neck met her shoulder. She felt the way his intensity picked up, movements a little more desperate. Her nails raked across his back, trying to anchor herself in the midst of feeling like she was losing herself in him.

It felt like it took more effort than it should to try and untangle herself from around him when it was over. For a minute, neither of them even tried. Nestor let her stay wrapped around him and she let him keep leaning against her and the island beneath her for support. The rise and fall of their chests were drastic, out of sync as Nestor rested his forehead against hers.

Erin’s hands slid down so that her palms were flat against his chest again. She didn’t pull away from him as she felt the thrum of his heartbeat beneath her hand. Once she caught her breath enough, she managed a quiet laugh.

Nestor didn’t even pull away at that, instead he just asked, “What?”

She let the sound of his breathless voice bounce around her brain for a few moments before finally making herself answer. “Not sure what I’m supposed to say to you.”

There was a half-smile on Nestor’s face as he pulled back to be able to look her in the eyes. “That all it took?”

She laughed a little harder, shaking her head at him. “Shut up.” Finally taking her hands off him, she placed them on the counter. “Can I have my underwear now? And my shorts?”

She ran her hands down her face as Nestor readjusted himself and picked her clothes up off the floor. He handed them to her, watching as she shook her head. She pulled them up her legs, managing to just get them over her hips.

“Well, now that we’ve thoroughly disrespected Mike and Emily’s counter,” she said with a laugh as she hopped down, feet landing silently on the floor, “I’m gonna go, you know, shower.”

Nestor looked down at her, noticing the way that she was still pinned between him and the edge of the counter behind her. His face went back to being hard to read as he nodded at her. “Okay.”

“You’re not gonna be, like, fuckin’ weird about this, right?” she asked, not really sure what him being weird about it would even look like.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Reassuring,” there was her usual hint of sarcasm in her voice as she said it. When he didn’t move to let her leave, Erin found her eyes traveling all over him again, the reality sinking in that it might be the first and last time that she got to see him like this. Her gaze finally landed back on his bandaged arm, the thing that got this entire mess started. She touched it lightly with her fingers, noticing the way that he didn’t pull away from her. “So now do I get to know what happened?”

Shaking his head slightly, he moved to the side, allowing her to leave. “Go shower.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was still a smile on her face as she said, “Whatever.”

Just when she was about to walk out of the kitchen, Nestor called after her, “Don’t forget your bat.”

Turning around, she faced him as she kept walking, in the opposite direction. “If you’re here, I apparently don’t need it, so,” she threw her hands up before turning back around and making her way up the stairs.

Nestor shook his head at her as he watched her silently make her way back up the stairs. Once she was out of sight, he swiped his bloodied shirt up off the floor, holding it in his hand as he walked over and, once again, turned her music down. Dragging his free hand down his face, he looked up at the ceiling for a moment as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Taking a deep breath, he tried not to overthink it. He couldn’t help but to look at the bandage wrapped around his arm, couldn’t stop the tiny hint of a smile that crossed his face as he looked at it, not caring about the mess that was sure to follow.

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday21 #scars #it's just a scratch #its just a scratch #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc fanfic #nestor oceteva #erin thomas #nestor oceteva x erin thomas #erin thomas x nestor oceteva #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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po3ticb3auty · 2 years

Text

REKINDLE CH 2

Who knew coming back to Santo Padre would bring you so many memories and rekindle an old flame.

Miguel x Black Reader x Angel Reyes

A/N: This has been in my head for the LONGEST!!! Due to the way the show is going this fic will not follow it. Miguel and Angel are not brothers. However, they do still work together via the MC and Cartel.

Word Count: 1.1K

WARNINGS: Angst, Cheating, Pregnancy, Cursing, SMUT eventually, Divorce, Kidnapping, Retaliation, Blood

DNI 18+ ONLY

What am I some glorified gopher?, the prospect retorted.

“As long as the patch says prospect you do what you’re told”, joked the skinnier one donned with curly yet stringy black hair.

As he walks towards the bar the other stockier version of him joined him. While you and hope are doing a beer count and placing them in the chiller.

“Okay, doll so these are the ones Obispo likes where as these are the ones that the rest of the crew drink.”

“Ah, so do we make mixed drinks cocktails things of that nature?” You question.

“Girl, you’re an actual bartender but yes we do it all here.”

“Sweet, okay well let’s see if I can keep up it’s pretty rowdy tonight.”

“Oh this, this is nothing, wait until you see the patch party,” Hope begins to chuckle.

“Patch party what is that?”

You looked around and Hope had begun to make a few orders. With your backside towards the bar you didn’t notice the slight drum of fingers on the smooth wooden bar.

What caught your attention was the slight whistle with the whisper of “mama”

As you turn around you are met with the kindest pair of brown eyes both with a flick of gold and green as his lips curled up into a smile. While placing your palms on the bar top you noticed his patch, “Hola, el secretario,” you said with a smile.

“Well hello, you. Do you have a name?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Will you tell me?”

“How can. I help you, el Secre-“

“Angel, call me Angel, sweetheart.”

“Ayo boy scout and lover boy our bottles are empty,” yelled the table full of Mayans.

The one with the Prospect patch laughed and took the bottles back to the table and then there was just you and Angel, or Lover Boy, as the table of Mayans called him.

As you leaned further on the bar your red shirt began to expose more of you supple plump catching the eyes of all those who could see what Angel’s body did not cover.

His eyes began to wonder while his hand moved its way to replace a coil that slipped from your bun. You could feel the heat of the onlookers as your face began to warm.

“You still have yet to tell me your name.”

“I don’t see a reason , you can call me…what was it earlier..ah yes, mama.”

He smirked and walked back to the table full of men. Finally free of his gaze you began to clean the bar and service other members as the night carried on. You watched as Hope started doing shots with the bikers and was in awe as how she was knocking back drinks the size of those same men. Unbeknownst to you, those same brown eyes with a fleck of gold and green, made it his business to not take his eyes off you. It was to the point that one of the guys had to nudge him out of his fixation.

“Yo, earth to Lover boy, you playing this round or not?”

“Johnny Coco hush can’t you see he’s eyeing the prize?, said the Prospect.

Still in a daze as his eyes roamed over your body admiring how you face lit up with each and every encounter at the bar as if it was your sole duty to make sure they left the bar with an everlasting impression on the aura you were blessed with. His eyes began to wonder again this time lower to your breast noticing the slight rise and fall as you carried a conversation with Taza and Hope. As he began to get up from his seat, one of the M.C. girls took heed of his movement and placed her hands on his chest.

“Hey Nails,” he said with a smirk.

“Hey you,” she replied placing a peck on his cheek.

Darting his eyes back towards the bar he watched as you began chatting up Bishop as well, wondering what you too could possibly be talking about that had you so engaged and smiling.

“Hello earth to Angel, are you listening?

“Sorry, what were you saying?

“We,” pointing to her friend with the low cut and red lips, “we, want to know if you’ll be stopping by tonight or should we carry on without you?

As he brought his bottle to his mouth and realized it was empty, Angel cleared his throat and stood up, “Maybe, depends on how this talk goes with Bishop. But don;’t wait up.” He pecks her cheek and walks away.

(Y/N) , so a s a heads up, Miguel knows about you being here, someone saw you at the airport, when I picked you guys up earlier this week, whispered Bishop as he scanned the room.

Almost stopping you in your tracks, you swallowed before responding, “Who saw?, you questioned with a smile.

“I think it was Nestor or Dita, not really sure but Galindo did reach out and instructed me to keep you safe. So for the love of God, please leave Angel alone this isn’t something well, someone you need to be involved with.”

“Papi, I’m old enough to make my own decisions and why does every man in my life get the task of making sure I’m safe? Like make it make sense.”

Making his way to the bar you lock eyes with him causing him to smile and Bishop to give you a glare of warning as he left the bar and went back to the shadows.

What was it that made him so…magnetizing and why was Bishop cockblocking, mores who saw you and why hasn’t Miguel popped up yet.

Being brought from your thoughts as Angel placed his hand on yours was a comforting sensation, until you saw Nails behind him glaring in your direction.

“I see you have a fan club,” you say with as smile as you removed your hand and returned to cleaning the partly empty bar.

“Oh, them, let’s just say we had something planned but my interest lies elsewhere for some reason.”

Once again his hand finds its way back you this time, slowly rubbing his thumb over it as he locked eyes with you and shot you a half smile.

“Now I see why they call you lover boy.”

“Naw, it’s not like that,I mean I get around so to say BUT for the right one I’d throw all the crumbs away for the whole cookie.”

“That was lame-“

“Hey we have to go Bishop is calling a meeting and the girls are heading home,” announced the Prospect.

“Ard, let me finish up here Oh and EZ this is love..I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stuck your hand out and EZ swatted it away. “We hug around these parts little one,” he said with a smile worth their weight in gold.

“Love, little one, jeez just slap on the nicknames why don’t you,” you laughed causing more attention than needed in the now empty is bar.

All of a sudden felt warmth behind you, “My bad,” Angel said as he slid behind you making sure he grazed your butt to cop a feel and head to the templar.

You pushed him in his chest and slipped your number in his pocket.

“Use it, don’t use it,” you said with a wink as you returned to finish cleaning the bar.

Minutes went pass and you before you knew it, Bishop was walking you out the bar as you waited for your uber home.

“Hey Bish, any update on Miguel and what not?” You asked looking around to make sure no one heard you.

While lighting his joint, he sighed, “So far no news on who saw you all I know is that my head is on the chopping block via El Padriño or Miguel if anything happens to you or his son.”

He passed the joint to you as you sighed “I wanted to do this on my own, like how does he even know that we’re here!”

“Just relax, it’s okay, he might not be on his way anytime soon. All he did was tell me to make sure you’re okay, he didn’t ask about Miguelito.”

Sighing with relief, “that’s one thing I don’t need him to find out not yet anyway. Only Dita, you, and my father knows.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Who does he think his father is?”

“A businessman, he’s seen photos of him buts that about it.”

Cracking his knuckles, Bish ashed out his l before departing.

“I’ll do what’s needed when the time comes but for the love of everything avoid ANGEL.”

“Sir, I know his type, you should be more worried that I’m not going to break him.”

With that Bish watched you walk away, he looked to the sky, “Sis, she's just like you.”

TAGGED: @marissawatupgriffin

#Miguel x Black Reader #Mayans MC AU #Mayans MC #Angel X Black Reader #Mayans MC x Black Reader #Angel Reyes x Black Reader #Miguel Galindo x Black Reader

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months

Note

I was wondering let’s just pretend nothing happened to the guys in the club in Mayans and bottles went home. His girl waiting for him and she notices his mood and she tries to comfort and it leads to smut.

Hi Em!

If you read the pinned post you'll see that I usually work with prompts not with scenarios as I find them creatively stifling.

Feel free to submit with a prompt for our boy B, also as far as I am concerned it never happened

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abbatoirablaze · 2 years

Text

Brat Tamer

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Brat Tamer! Angel, overintoxication, stripping, smut, implied unprotected sex

I watched as Angel made his rounds around the room. He always was one to flirt with every single girl before choosing one. Out of the corner I could see him watching me. I bent over and grabbed some ice for one of the guy's drinks, making sure that he saw my very ample cleavage damn near pouring out of the Mayans shirt I wore.

"Hey ma, can you get me a beer?" Coco asked, coming up to the bar. I nodded, turning around and bending over. I could hear Coco whistle behind me, so I playfully wiggled my ass at him, "don't be teasin' me now, Kaya. You know I'd take you to my room in a heartbeat if you let me."

"Leave the poor girl alone," Marcus laughed as I turned around. He sat down with his cousin, the president of the club, and I grabbed two rocks glasses. Coco moved away after I handed him his beer, not bothering to argue with el Padrino and Bishop. The two men chuckled, "you causin trouble?"

"What else would I be doing?" I joked, sticking my tongue out. El padrino reached into his wallet and tried handing me a twenty. I shook my head, "no way. I'm just helpin out for the night because EZ asked. You wanna tip someone, save it for the girls that'll be on the pole later."

"Your old man wasn't the one to ask you?" Bishop asked, raising a brow.

I shook my head, my heavy curls bouncing, "I'm not attached to him. He's made that much clear."

He smiled at his cousin and called Angel over, mumbling softly to him as the biker headed our way, "play along, okay?"

I nodded, winking at the men. Marcus gestured for me to lean forward, and as Angel came over, he folded the twenty and pushed it just into shirt enough that it was tucked into my bra. Angel sneered at me.

"What'd you need, Bish?"

"We heard the prospect asked your girl here to tend bar for us tonight, not you."

"I was busy," he said with a shrug, trying to make it seem like he didn't care all that much, "and she ain't my old lady."

I smirked, grabbing a beer out of the cooler, cooling myself off I held it up to my neck for a second and let out a small moan. That caught his attention.

"Damn sweetheart," Bish laughed, pointing a finger at me, "maybe if you fucked her right, she'd be yours and not be moaning over a bottle."

"At least I'm getting something thick," I said with a wink, "and look at that. It's making me wet."

Angel's nostrils flared. Marcus shot me a wink, "If you want something good, I know a few brothers that wouldn't mind a shot at you."

"Yeah?" I asked.

Marcus nodded, and I smirked. Go with it.

"What do you have in mind?"

Marcus whistled and the music was paused, "all right men, I'm seeing some very sexy women tonight, but I wanna see the moves they got. Who's willing to work that pole for us?"

Bishop nudged me and I felt nervous. Another woman stepped up, and they began playing some classic rock. She stripped awkwardly, and it was obvious that she was drunk.

"Do four shots. Right now." Bishop demanded.

"Are you kidding me?"

He grabbed the bottle he was holding and repeated himself, "four shots. Right now."

Fuck it.

I groaned, holding the bottle to my lips as Bishop began to count. He held out for a few seconds, easily doubling it, and I felt my head get a little lighter. The liquor burned going down, but I began to feel really good. Every time a new girl stepped up to the pole, Bish made me do it all over again. A few women in I was feeling really good.

"Kaya," Angel warned, not removing his eyes from me. A sexy dance song came on and I came around to the front of the bar, trying to dance with Angel. "Kaya, stop."

I whimpered, not stopping. I grinded my ass up against him. He put his hands on my hips and as he hardened, he bucked up against me, just to tease me. I let out a small yelp, but didn't pull away, "fuck me right here."

"I ain't doin shit. You're drunk off your ass."

I smirked, laying my head back on him. Looking at him, I tried my best to kiss his jaw as I continued to dance against him, "is it because you can't fuck me right?"

"You know damn well I can. Stop lying to yourself, Ky."

"It feels like you want me," I said, slipping a hand behind me to stroke him through his jeans, "do you want me, Angel?"

"Kaya."

"What," I said, turning so that I was facing him, "are you scared?"

"I ain't scared of nothing."

"Come on Kaya," Bishop cheered as the next woman left the pole, "KAYA!"

"Don't you fucking do it," Angel growled into my ear, "i'm telling you right now."

"What are you gonna do about it?" I giggled, taking a few steps away from him towards the pole.

"Kaya," he warned, "stop."

"You ain't shit," I giggled, making my way up to the pole. Dirty Sexy Money came on, and I smiled, looking directly at Angel.

I mouthed the words as I started spinning on the pole.

'Make you mine, make you mine,'

I came up in front of the pole and dropped down, dipping my hips. By the time the chorus hit I was higher than a kite off the adrenaline. I slipped out of my daisy dukes and my top. A few guys from other charters had taken chairs to the edge of the little stage, and I began crawling across it, wiggling my ass around.

Some of the guys began slipping bills into my thong and I smirked, rolling all over the place. When the song ended, I collected my money and began to gather my clothes.

Before I reached the bar to a smiling Bishop and Marcus, I was pulled down the hallway and into the first open door. It was his room. Angel was glaring me down, "what the fuck is wrong with you Kaya? Fucking stripping in the middle of a goddamn party. These guys are my fucking brothers."

"Seems like they appreciate me more than you do."

"You're being a real fucking brat."

"And you're being a dick-less prick," I growled. I pushed past him and reached for the door. He grabbed my arm and spun me around, then slammed me against the door. He pressed his crotch into me. He was rock hard.

"This feel dick-less to you?" he growled back. When I didn't respond he grabbed my hand and put it on his cloth-covered cock, "what, you don't got shit to say now? You fucking caused this. Isn't this what you wanted, Kaya?"

"I-"

"You what?" he seethed.

The way he cornered me.

The way his muscles were flexing as he balanced himself over me.

I felt an ache in my core. I wanted him. No. I needed him.

"You ain't shit," I said, gathering all my confidence, "fuck you, Angel."

He chuckled, and for a moment his rage seemed lost on me. Then he slammed his open palm against the door next to my head, "you can't even say that shit with confidence. Truth is your just a little brat who needs to be put in her place."

"I-"

"Shut up," he growled. He ran a hand over my lips, and down my body. It slowed as he passed my naval, and hovered over my damp panties, "I bet you are just drenched...you little fucking brat. Bet you were getting me pissed off on purpose."

"Ange-"

My plea turned into a moan as he dipped a finger into me without warning.

"That's right," he smirked, adding a second finger in. I felt my body react to him as I moaned once more, "I'm gonna show you just who's in charge. You ain't gonna forget tonight you loud-mouthed brat."

#mayans fx #mayans mc #angel reyes #smut

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ravennaortiz · 2 months

Note

Okay I've got another request for you. This time it's for Bottles. Let's go with prompt 8, 31, 24, and 25.

Welcome back! Bottles with these prompts?! Hell yes! As always my stories are 18+! lets get to the magic!

Prompts:

8: Your drunk. No i'm not

31. Jealous?

24. No panties?

25. Don't act shy now.

All Works Tag List: @keyweegirlie

A Near Loss

The party at the clubhouse was in full swing when you slunk behind the bar where Bottles was. You had had your eyes on him since he first joined up. There was something about him that called to you and you wanted him, status in the club be damned.

Bottles smiled slightly as he felt your arms wrap around him from behind. He couldn't deny you were beautiful and he knew anyone would be lucky to have your attention. He had been given strict instructions to not be caught with his hands on you ever. Yet here he was again with your hands on him. He was starting to wonder if this was a test to be honest. No way you were actually interested in some guy like him.

"You should stop playing bar tender and come dance with me" you whispered standing on your tip toes to get closer to his ear. Bottles swallowed hard as he felt your body pressed tighter to him and your hands slip down to his belt. He glanced up quickly to where EZ the club president and one of your brothers sat talking to some other members.

Following his gaze you rolled your eyes before moving in front of him your hands never leaving his belt. "Orrrrrr" you started to say as your hands quickly undid his belt bringing his attention back to you. "I could hang out under the bar" you finished with a wink as you slid the zipper down as you started to drop to the floor. The look on Bottles face was priceless as he quickly yanked you back up, his eyes even bigger than normal behind his glasses as he frantically looked around to make sure no one had noticed.

"Stop it. Your drunk." stated Bottles as he held your hands firmly at your sides before taking several steps back from you. He could feel his jeans getting tighter and swallowed hard as he tried to get his breathing evened out.

"No, I'm not. You served me my one and only drink two hours ago" you chuckled lightly trying to ignore the feeling of irritation that was building. "But fine. You don't want all this?" you continued as you used your hands to pull his attention down your body before shrugging. "I'm sure someone else will be happy too take care of me" you finished before patting his shoulder and disappearing into the crowd. Bottles sighed heavily before leaning against the bar.

***

"What's up with you Miss Attitude?" inquired Guero as you slammed yourself down into the chair between him and Coco as they watched Angel and Gilly play pool against members from another charter.

"Nothing" you practically growled as you glared at your brother Angel. You knew he and EZ had to have made you off limits.

Coco followed the glare and chuckled. "In my friends defense mama. He was aiming more for guys in the other charters and Boy Scout said everyone" he offered as he took a drag on his cigarette.

"Of course he did. Always has to control everything and everyone" you replied as you folded your arms and kicked your legs up onto the chair across from you. "I do have to give props to Bottles though I was pretty much on my knees and had his zipper down and he still said no" you added.

"Don't tell me that. Puts me in a bad place with your brother" sighed Coco as he shook his head and laughed.

"I have an idea. Come on" stated Guero as he finished his bear and grabbed your hand as he stood up.

***

Bottles had watched you and Guero disappear into the storage room a few minutes ago. Hands roaming all over and you giggling as he whispered something in your ear. He felt a burning anger as he cleaned up behind the bar and hadn't noticed EZ approach.

"You can join the party for the night. You did a good job today" stated EZ making Bottles jump and pull himself from his thoughts. "Thanks" he replied as he nodded looking up at EZ who was looking around the clubhouse. "You seen my little sister lately?" asked EZ his eyes landing back on him.

"No. Last I saw her was an hour ago maybe? I think she said she was going outside" lied Bottles as he pretended to look around the crowded clubhouse. EZ nodded before walking off. Bottles walked over to the storage door and hesitated for a moment before barging in and slamming the door behind him.

"Took you long enough" muttered Guero as he looked over your shoulder at Bottles who was vibrating with anger at seeing you straddling his friend. You smirked as you turned to look over your shoulder at him.

"EZ is looking for you. I lied and told him you were outside so can you two hurry the fuck up" snapped Bottles his voice low with anger. Guero snorted as he watched Bottles ball up his fist at his sides. "Someone jealous?" he inquired with a raised brow before moving his hands down to the hem of your dress lifting it up.

"No" snapped Bottles as he closed his eyes not wanting to look.

"Seems like you are" you murmured as you stood up and walked over to him letting your nails trail down his chest. His breathing hitched and you smiled wickedly. "Come on Bottles" you purred as your hands made their way to his belt.

Without a word Bottles had you spun pinning you against the door with his body. You yelped in surprise but didn't struggle as you felt him grind his bulge against your ass. You moaned at the feel of the fabric and felt heat pool between your legs. Bottles breathing was ragged as he grinded against you as his mind clouded with lust.

"Please" you whined as you pushed back on him to get more friction making your dress bunch up. Bottles gulped before yanking his belt off and shoving his jeans and boxers to the floor letting his hardened cock spring forth.

"Bend over" he ordered as he yanked your dress up revealing your bare ass and soaked core to him. Bottles smiled slightly before running his tip through your slick folds eliciting a moan from you as you pushed back slightly. "Fuck. No panties?" he asked even though it was evident as he started to slide in you before a small cough behind him dragged his attention back to Guero.

"Shit" muttered Bottles as he started to pull out making you whine as he pulled your dress back down. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Don't act shy now man. I just wanted to make sure you remembered I was here. Turn her around so I can see her face" replied Guero with a laugh as he locked eyes with his friend.

A couple minutes later Bottles was pounding into you relentlessly. His grip on your hips tight enough that you knew you would have bruises. Your release poured down your legs as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Bottles didn't stop though, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm and into another before his pace faltered he slammed deep into you one more time as your body milked his own release from him.

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#ravennasmasterlist #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #ravennasrequest #bottles mayans smut #bottles mayans mc #bottles x you #bottles x reader #mayans imagines #mayans smut #mayans x reader

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 1 year

Text

Mayans MC Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You will not be able to read anything marked as smut without your community labels turned to show.

Smut💦 Angst😨 Fluff ❤ Violence🔪 Gore🤢 Medical💉 Triggering material🚩

Angel Reyes

The Wager❤💦💦❤

Angel and Manny have a bet, you get to be the one decide who wins.

EZ Reyes

Coming soon

Manny

The Wager❤💦💦❤

Angel and Manny have a bet, you get to be the one decide who wins.

****

A Gentle Kind of Love Complete ❤❤😨💦💦

You and Coco meet overseas when you are doing aid work. When you move to Santo Padre to settle down, your life changes forever when you and Manny strike up a friendship.

Guero

The New Bartender❤💦

Out of desperation, Bishop hires a real bartender.

****

Bottles

The New Bartender❤💦

Out of desperation, Bishop hires a real bartender.

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ficnation · 9 months

Text

Chapter 3: The Desire She Stirs

Series: “She”

Word count: 2,0k+

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Reader

Warnings: 18+; mayans mc typical warnings, a tiny sprinkle of smut if you squint hard enough

A/n: Everything needs to fall apart before it can grow stronger. Angel starts to feel things he’s not comfortable with.

If you enjoyed reading this please reblog and let me know your thoughts!

Main Masterlist

Mayans MC Masterlist

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Angel Reyes used to think he knew you like the back of his hand. He always thought you were a good friend that didn’t hide stuff from him—that didn’t lie or pretend. Boy, was he wrong.

He first starts to doubt it when you come back home long past midnight with your hair messy and your clothes ruffled, the red lipstick smudged over your mouth and cheek. You aggressively throw your boots into the corner, then press your forehead against the cold wall with a loud, strained groan.

Angel hears how heavy your breaths are and sees the way you flinch when the wooden floor underneath his feet creaks. He calls your name as he walks over, concerned.

“You doin’ alright there?” His voice carries the worry he feels. The question is a soft whisper as it enters your ears.

You take a deep breath, your whole body trembling as you try to force the pent-up rage and tension out of your muscles. When you turn around to face him, you can only shrug pathetically, biting on your lower lip so you don’t burst into tears in front of him.

He reaches your person with knitted brows, taking your face between his large, warm hands. “What happened, querida?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” you refuse, trying to avoid his gaze, but it’s not that easy—his face is barely inches from yours. You can even feel his minty breath brushing over your cheeks. “Tomorrow?”

Angel thinks for a moment but doesn’t push; he knows it wouldn’t be fair if he did. He might be living with you; he might even be sleeping in the same bed from time to time when your nightmares make you cry out at night—but he still has no right to get all up in your business.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” he offers, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You respond with a nod, arms circling his waist as you give him an appreciative squeeze.

He lets you go reluctantly before walking away toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. You let out a deep sigh as you press your fingers to your temples, almost as if to calm down your racing mind. You give yourself a moment, then shrug off your leather jacket and hang it over the back of the couch before you follow in Angel’s steps.

As you walk into the bathroom, the inviting and soothing smell of vanilla soap and bath salts fills your senses. The air is humid and the lighting low, creating a relaxing and peaceful environment. The sound of the running bathwater floods the air with its calming sound.

The room is uncluttered for once, and you realize Angel must’ve picked up all of Maverick’s bath toys in the few minutes you spared him. The image of him scrambling around the room as he tries to quickly pick up every single one of the colorful trucks, boats, and squeaking ducks brings a smile to your face.

You approach the steaming bath, its warmth inviting. You manage to shed your blouse and wiggle out of your tight jeans before Angel returns with a bottle of white wine and two whiskey glasses—you never got around to buying the stemmed ones.

The man stares at your half-naked figure as you straighten up and step out of the pile of clothing gracefully. His eyes follow your every move, every curve of your body, every mark that decorates your skin. He feels entranced as he tries to will his gaze away, but he simply can’t, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

What’s even worse, you don’t seem to notice his presence as you unclasp your bra and slide down the matching lace panties. You step into the warm embrace of the bath, the comfort welcoming after a long, tiring day. You settle in with a deep sigh of relief.

Angel can feel the heat enveloping his body, lulling him into slipping into the bath with you. Then suddenly, you notice him in your peripheral vision, and you jump in surprise—the water moving with you. He feels like a fucking pervert.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbles out, turning around quickly as if it was going to save him from being caught in the act.

He can’t see you shaking your head, but he definitely hears the snort that follows it. The bottle of wine almost slips from his hand onto the blue tiles below; he grips it a little bit tighter by its neck.

“No worries,” you respond shortly as you fold your arms on the side of the tub, resting your chin in the nook of your elbow. “Are you joining me, or you’re just gonna stand there like a donkey?”

Your words fall on deaf ears as Angel stares into the distance with wide eyes. He’s sure his dirty mind is just playing with him. There was no way those words came out of your pretty lips. He spins to face you, and you meet his gaze, eyes shimmering with playfulness. Are you teasing him? Or are you just amused by his reaction to the question? He has no fucking idea which one it is, and it scares him.

You sigh deeply and decide to spare him the overthinking, “C’mon, hop in.”

“Me?” the man asks, pointing one of his fingers at his chest. He looks around the room as if someone else could’ve hidden in there, but he doesn’t see anyone. It’s only you and him.

You roll your eyes in disbelief, leaning back and slipping further into the sudsy water. “Well, do you see anyone else here?”

Angel reluctantly sets down the glasses and the bottle of wine on the carpet beside the bathtub. He steps back and searches your face for an explanation. Maybe you’ve been drunk out of your mind since you came home, and he didn’t even notice. The smudged mascara on the apples of your cheeks reminds him that you had a bad night—a shitty night. He’s afraid you’re playing his game and looking for comfort in the wrong places.

“Querida, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Not in a sexual way, you ass,” you explain when your mind catches up to his suspicions. “I just want you to enjoy it with me. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

After the words leave your lips, you don’t have to wait much longer. Angel understands that feeling—the despairing need for the closeness of another human being. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and inches it up slowly, giving you time to chicken out and retract the offer, but you don’t.

Your eyes gaze at the revealed skin and the happy trail of dark curls. You feel your cheeks getting warmer, so you look away—the white tiled walls are suddenly the most interesting thing in your world.

Angel slides his shirt over his head and lets it fall to the floor as he pushes the sweatpants down his legs. He stands there in all his naked glory and watches as you toy with your fingers awkwardly. He feels like he will chicken out if he stands there for a minute longer, so he slips into the bath and sits on the opposite side of you. The bathtub is big enough for you two to fit without feeling overly cramped.

You meet his eyes with a shy smile. “Hi, Angel.”

He shakes his head, amused, as he playfully splashes the suds at your face. You giggle quietly—a genuine sound—and he already knows he’s made your night a tiny bit better. He’s surprised this is all it took to calm you down—his company, wine, and a bubble bath.

You lean over the edge of the tub and pour the wine into the whiskey glasses, handing him one as you slump down with a relaxed hum, your leg grazing his underwater. It stirs something inside him, and he can’t help but shiver at the contact of your skin against his. He gulps down a generous mouthful of the alcoholic liquid, begging his body not to betray him.

Almost as if reading his mind, your eyes meet his, and you observe him intently, tapping your nails on the glass between your hands. “You seem nervous,” you state the obvious.

Angel blinks fast and sends you an awkward smile, shrugging his arms. He doesn’t know why he feels so restless and horny at the mere sight of your naked flesh and proximity. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you without clothes before—he did. You’ve been living together for a while—he’s seen it all, but it never made him feel this way.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, querida,” he lies anyway, trying to slide back, so he can put a little more distance between your bodies. The faucet jabs him in the spine, and the man hisses loudly, back arching.

“Shit, Angel, are you okay?!”

You’re now kneeling in the bath, right between his spread legs, as your hands hover over his arms, ready to check over the injury.

You’re too close. You’re far too close. Angel starts panicking; his heart thumps in his chest as your concerned eyes meet his. He’s trying not to look down at your revealed chest, but it’s hard not to. He can feel the warmth spreading through his body as he imagines how it would feel like to let those temptations win—to hear your sweet moans as he pounds you into the mattress. Fuuuuck.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, pushing your hands away gently. His eyes are looking anywhere but at you.

You look at him, utterly confused, as you slide back a little bit away from him. “Are you—”

“I said turn the fuck around!” he sneers loudly, cutting you off, a deep frown etched on his face.

You quickly do what he says, a shiver running down your spine. You have no idea if his sudden outburst is your fault. What did you do wrong? You’ve kept your distance as much as you could—as much as the calling of his muscled body and his charming smile allowed you to. But somehow, you still fucked it all up. That’s what you were best at. Fucking things up for everyone, including yourself.

The sound of splashing and dripping fills the air as Angel steps out of the tub. The bathwater ripples slightly, its bubbly surface glistening in the light. With his movement, some water spills over the edge and splashes out onto the cold tiles.

You sit still, your knees tucked to your body, chin propped up on them as tears well up in your eyes. The sound of trickling water and dripping onto the floor continues, making each of his steps seem slower—spiking up the tension in the air. You hear the rustling of his clothes as he picks them all up and leaves the room, still drenched and naked. He doesn’t bother saying anything else, but his harsh words still echo in your head.

You burst into sobs—let them wreck through your whole body, shaking with their intensity. You didn’t mean to upset him. You just needed someone else’s touch on you, someone else’s presence beside you, to forget the hands that grasped the fabric of your clothes—the hands that grabbed at your flesh harshly, leaving bruises in their wake. God, you just wanted to forget this night.

When you finally manage to step out of the bathtub, the water is cold—it’s been like that for a while already, but you didn’t even notice, too far gone in your thoughts. You put on the first clean clothes you can get your hands on, then fall back on your bed—the mattress creaking slightly.

That night when you thrash around and scream in your nightmares, you don’t wake up to the feel of Angel’s strong arms pulling you into his warm embrace. You wake up to the empty room and the eerie silence swallowing you in. The feeling of safety is gone.

Taglist: @neverland14353 @darklydeliciousdesires

#angel reyes x you #angel reyes x female reader #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x reader #mayans m.c.#mayansmc #mayans #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans season 5 #angel reyes

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drabbles-mc · 2 years

Text

A Little Closer

Happy Lowman x F!Reader

Request by @shinypeachkitten: Can you do a Happy Lowman smut where he Just simply make love to you? We know he is rough and all. But I would love to read his soft side in this

Warnings: 18+ like everything on this blog, alcohol, light angst, canon compliance/post s7 finale, unprotected sex, fingering

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: My first time writing smut for Happy and I kinda like that it was a soft scenario. Not that you need to read it, but I picture this taking place shortly after All That’s Left, hence the sad feels lol. Also, idk if you guys are interested but this was also inspired by the song Come A Little Closer by Dierks Bentley. We are full of fun facts today haha. Hope you enjoy! xo

SOA/Mayans Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @garbinge @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @lilah1903 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @bellisperennis0 @beardburnsupersoldiers @mveggieburger @thanossexual @xeniarocks @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @beardsanddetectives @bruxasolta @slut-bitch-brat @i-love-scott-mccall @espieviolet99 @i-just-read-stuff @unicornucopia-fuckers @jitterbugs927 @be-my-dear @sgtxliptons86 (If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know!)

The past couple of weeks had been showing you a side to Happy that you hadn’t seen before. For all of the amazing qualities that he had, all of the things that made you love him, he wasn’t the kind of man to ever really show his emotions. Good, bad, or indifferent, whatever he expressed was always a watered-down version of whatever he was actually feeling. You knew that was just how he operated—it wasn’t something that was going to change so you didn’t try.

In the days and weeks following the most volatile day of SAMCRO, though, there was a shift in Happy. He’d come home to you and cried one night, and from there on out it was like the two of you had shifted into a new chapter of a book. Things were similar, but definitely not the same.

He was home more often, as often as he could be, and softer with you behind closed doors. He wasn’t ever the kind of man to ignore you—you were always taken care of. You thought that maybe everything going on with the club was a wakeup call, thinking that this was his version of a mid-life crisis of sorts. He still didn’t say much about anything, even when you asked, but it was almost like he felt more. You didn’t mind it, but you just hoped that he knew that it wasn’t like you were going anywhere. You promised him that whatever it was, the two of you would figure it out, and you meant that.

You got home from work one night and saw his bike already parked in the driveway. Very rarely did he ever beat you home. Your brows furrowed, mind already going to the worst-case scenarios as you made your way up the driveway. With the way things had gone over the last couple of years, you started realizing that it was better to expect the worst rather than hope for the best.

Unlocking and pushing the door open, you called out for him, “Happy?”

He was standing at the kitchen counter, popping the top of a beer bottle as he turned around to face you, “Yea?”

Toeing off your shoes, you tossed your bag to the side as you walked over to him, “You’re home early.”

He nodded, pulling you so that you were tucked against his chest, “Just wanted to be home.”

You inhaled deeply, soaking up the scent of him, “Rough day?”

He gave a noncommittal grunt in response as he wrapped one arm tighter around you, using the other to lift the beer bottle to his lips. You knew that was all the response you were going to get out of him for the time being.

“Gimme a sip,” your tone was playful as you swiped the bottle from his hand.

He chuckled, watching you intently as you tipped it back, pressing the cold glass to your lips. When you looked back at him, you saw the way that his demeanor was shifting. He pulled you a little tighter, fingertips pressing a little harder into your back to keep you close. Desire darkened his eyes for a moment, but then it softened into something else, something with a little less hunger and a little more longing.

Handing him the bottle back, you gently cupped his chin, “C’mere,” you tugged him towards you and lightly pressed your lips to his. He softened into you the second you kissed him, both arms looping around you. Your hand slid from his chin up to his cheek before pulling back and looking at him, “You can talk to me, you know.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“You okay?” you hoped that he wasn’t going to lie to your face point-blank.

He rested his forehead against yours with a sigh, “Working on it.”

That was about as honest as it could get. All any of you seemed to be doing these days was working on trying to be okay. You traced your thumb along his cheek, “Thank you.”

You felt his hand move along your back followed by the sound of the beer bottle clinking against the counter. The two of you had hardly put a dent in it, but you could tell by the rise and fall of his chest against yours that it was the least of his concerns right now. He shifted you carefully, pressing you back against the counter and gripping the edges of it on either side of you. His lips were impossibly close to yours but still not quite touching, his arms and legs boxing you in against the cool granite behind you. Still, even caged in, feeling the heat of his breath flush against your skin, there was something gentle about it all.

It didn’t feel dominating like it had in the past, despite the position he had you in. The tiny gap between your lips and his was filled with his silent pleas to tell him that it was okay, that you wanted him. The lack of contact had its own kind of softness.

“I love you,” if the house hadn’t been silent, he wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

His body eased with relief as he leaned in and caught your lips in a deep kiss. He pressed his body to yours, chest to chest as he tightened his grip on the edge of the counter, like he didn’t trust himself to touch you for fear that he might break, not you. You let yourself fold underneath the pressure, leaning back. Your hands started on his shoulders before slowly sliding down his arms until they reached his hands. Interlocking your fingers with his, you gave his hands a light squeeze.

He met your grip, squeezing back with the same intensity as he pressed his lips harder against yours. You could tell from the desperation of his movements that he was looking for something to anchor him, and you were more than happy to be that for him.

Prying his lips away from yours, he stepped back and tugged you with him, “Come on.”

He pulled you so that you were in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. With each step the two of you took, he pressed another kiss to your neck, your ear, your shoulder, anywhere he could reach. His hands slipped easily into the pockets of the skirt you were wearing, using the leverage to make sure you stayed pinned to him.

Even though it was just the two of you in the house, and it was really only ever the two of you, he kicked the door shut once you’d both crossed the threshold of the bedroom. Sliding his hands out of your pockets, he spun you around so that you were facing him, wasting no time as he cupped the side of your face and kissed you on the lips, soft and slow and full of need. You wrapped your arms around his waist, hands slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt and trailing lightly up and down the warm skin of his back.

The longer you kissed him, the more you noticed every little shift in the rest of his body. His breathing sped up, his hand that wasn’t delicately holding your cheek came to rest on your hip. Inch by inch he walked you back towards the bed, not taking his lips off of yours the entire time. You felt the backs of your calves brush against the side of your bed and you fought the urge to fall back onto the mattress.

His grip on your hip tightened, his other hand sliding down from your cheek to the side of your throat. His fingers began to tighten, and while you didn’t mind it, you knew that it wasn’t really what he was looking for.

Pulling out of what felt like a blissful, never-ending kiss, you fought to catch your breath as you waited for Happy to look at you, “Hey,” your voice was soft as you gripped lightly onto his biceps, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re okay.”

The tension melted out of his body at your words, his grip loosening immediately. Resting his forehead back against yours, he let his hand slide from your hip to the back of your skirt, easily pulling the zipper down and letting the fabric pool on the floor around your feet. His hands gently explored all the newly exposed skin, fingertips skimming over the waistband of your panties as he kissed you again. His hands found their way to the front of your shirt, and he began undoing the buttons of your blouse with relaxed, expert precision. He easily pushed the thin fabric off your shoulders and let it join your discarded skirt on the floor.

In return, you lightly tangled your fingers into the bottom hem of his shirt and pushed it up his torso, letting him pull it off the rest of the way and toss it to the side. In a quick, gentle motion he lifted you off the ground and laid you down on the bed. Before you could blink he was settled over you, forearms braced on either side of your head as he leaned in and kissed you.

You could feel the tension in his body, like he was fighting to have restraint and be soft. He wasn’t incapable of it, but it wasn’t what came naturally to him. It was what he needed though, and you knew that. Sliding your hands up his arms and across his shoulders, you stopped when they were cupping the sides of his face. Running your thumbs along his cheekbones, you felt the tension slowly starting to disappear, his muscles relaxing as he melted into you.

Shifting his weight, he slowly brought one hand down your chest, fingertips feather-light and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. They traveled over the fabric of your bra and continued down your stomach before reaching the hem of your underwear. The gasp you let out was muffled by his lips as he continued to kiss you while he slipped his fingers beneath the thin fabric.

You arched into his touch, and you felt him easily maneuver to that you couldn’t get the contact that you were on the brink of whining for. Always a tease, even in a moment like that. He didn’t hold off for long, though, and you moaned into his mouth as he traced his fingers along your folds, and you could hear the shift in his breathing when he felt how badly you wanted him. He gently eased them into you, and only then did you break your kiss as you let out a shuddering breath. Your hands dropped to his shoulders, gripping onto him like you were afraid he was going to stop.

He pulled back, wanting to be able to see your face. He slowly began pump his fingers, mesmerized by the way your eyes fluttered, the way your mouth hung open slightly as you soaked up every sensation. His other hand rested on the side of your face, his thumb pulling down on your bottom lip for a moment before you turned, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Happy,” your voice was half whine, half whisper. When his eyes locked onto yours, you squeezed his shoulder, “I need you.”

He dipped his head down, kissing you hard on the lips before sliding his fingers back out of you. You whined against his lips at the loss of contact, but you were quickly distracted by the way he was sliding your panties down, lifting your hips so he could slip them off all the way. Once he tossed them to the side you started unbuckling his belt, and in what felt like no time at all, he was tossing his jeans and underwear onto the floor as well.

He was about to reposition himself on top of you, but you stopped him with a gentle palm against his chest. You pushed him lightly, nodding for him to lie down on his back. You could see it in his eyes that it caught him off-guard, but he didn’t fight you on it at all—he was putty in your hands.

Swinging your leg over him, you straddled his hips. His hands slid up your hips and sides, eyes traveling over every inch of your body as you positioned yourself over him. He let out a sharp exhale as you lowered yourself onto him, his hands instinctively grabbing onto your hips. You let out a quiet fuck under your breath as you laid your hands on his chest. His touch lightened as you adjusted to him, his hands snaking up your chest.

Once you found your rhythm, you could tell that Happy was fighting the urge to let his eyes shut in bliss. He wanted to see you, watch you and feel close to you when he felt so far away from everything else. But as the sensations flooded through him, it was hard not to get lost in it and let his eyes close.

“Come here,” you sounded as breathless as you felt as you gave his hand a slight tug, urging him to sit up, “closer.”

He did as you asked, his hands keeping you secure against him as he readjusted your positions. Your hands rested on his shoulders as his arms wrapped around your waist. You felt his hand creep up your back, making quick work of the clasp of your bra before sliding the straps down. He could hardly wait for you to remove it completely before flinging it off the bed. Wrapping his arms tight around you again, he reveled in the heat seeping from the bare skin of your chest into his. He kissed you hard on the lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you used his shoulders for leverage to get your rhythm back. He grabbed onto your hips, moving and helping you along. Peeling his mouth off of yours, he buried his face into your neck as he listened to the soft whimpers falling from your lips.

“Happy,” it was a whine, a plea, asking for something that you weren’t quite sure of.

He kissed the soft skin where your neck met your shoulder, and you could feel his lips move against you, his words muffled as he told you, “I love you.”

Your hands slid from his shoulders to his back, pressing his chest tighter to yours, “I love you too.”

It wasn’t long before you were coming undone around him. Happy clung to you for dear life, teeth sinking lightly into your shoulder as he basked in how you felt, and knowing that it was him that made you feel that way. The sound of you repeating his name in nearly inaudible whispers filled his ears, and when he felt you trying to pull him even closer, even farther into you, that’s when he spilled into you. A low moan that died down into a shuddered breath came out of him as he gripped your hips, pinning you down onto him as much as he could.

The two of you sat like that for a little while, all tangled up as you attempted to catch your breath. Happy stayed tucked against you, forehead resting against your shoulder while he soaked up the feeling of you lightly scratching the back of his head. He released his grip on you, allowing his hands to blindly wander around your body. His touch was soft, reassuring.

Leaning back, you forced his head up as you peeled your chest apart from his. Your hands rested lightly on his shoulders, thumbs rubbing idle circles into the muscles there. You couldn’t stop the soft smile that took over your features as you looked at him. He looked a little dazed, but you could see it in his eyes that it was the most present he’d been in a long time. It was just the two of you, shut away in your bedroom, and for once there was nothing more to it than that.

You leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips, and you were rewarded with him resting his forehead against yours before he shut his eyes. He took a deep breath, focusing on your breathing and the feeling of your hands massaging his muscles that had been tensed up for far too long. You tried to think of the right thing to say, something loving and reassuring, but as you listened to the sound of his breathing beginning to level out, you thought to yourself that maybe this was enough. The closeness said more than your words ever could.

#sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #mayans mc #happy lowman #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman x you #happy lowman fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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songtoyou · 3 years

Text

No Need to Rush

Paring: Angel Reyes x Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Some swearing. Smut (fingering).

Word Count: 1,590

Story Summary: Angel is feeling down, so you stop by his apartment to make him feel good. However, he is the one who ends up making you feel good.

A/N: I have fallen in love with Angel Reyes. Now, I have not seen Mayans MC, but it is on my list of shows to watch. I hope my characterization of Angel is somewhat accurate. He comes off as a character with lots of layers, which I like.

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission. Gif is my creation.

You were bored. Hanging around the Mayan’s Clubhouse alone was not how you pictured your Saturday. Your favorite Mayan had yet to show up. Angel Reyes said he would see you tonight, yet he was nowhere to be seen. You asked Angel’s younger brother, Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes, if he had heard from his older brother.

“I saw him earlier. Angel said he would be here,” EZ answered, standing next to Gilly. He stepped closer to you and pulled you to the side. Leaning closer, EZ went on to explain, “The last run Bishop sent Angel to do…well, it didn’t quite go according to plan. Bishop kind of chewed Angel out for it.”

Nodding your head, you appreciated EZ telling you this information, knowing he could get in trouble doing so.

“I’m going to go check on him,” you told EZ and gave him a quick hug goodbye.

“See ya, querida,” he said and went over to Gilly and Coco, who handed him a beer. EZ hoped his brother was doing alright. If anything, he knew you would be able to cheer Angel up.

Thankfully, it didn’t take you too long to drive to Angel’s apartment. The lights were still on, and his motorcycle was still in its parking spot. He was home. You parked next to his bike and got out of the car. In a few steps, you were knocking on Angel’s apartment door. You could hear the rustling of footsteps behind the door and some swearing.

“EZ, I said don’t….” Angel began but stopped once he saw you. His stance became more relaxed; his facial features softened.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked, stepping aside to let you in the apartment. “I thought you’d be at the Clubhouse.”

Angel looked you up and down. He had to suppress a groan at what you were wearing; a short black dress that showed off your curves and thigh-high black boots. While your style was more tamed than the other girls at the Clubhouse, you still managed to stir something inside Angel. Particularly in his nether region.

“Funny, I thought you’d be there as well. I talked to EZ. He shared a little bit of how you are doing,” you responded, taking off your jacket and leaving on the back of a chair.

Signing, Angel retreated to the kitchen; he got out two beers. As he popped the bottle tops, Angel said, “Of course EZ did. He shouldn’t be telling you things about the Club.”

You took the beer Angel offered and sat down on the couch. You hated the taste of beer but took a sip anyways. “EZ just shared that you have been feeling down lately. So, I came here to cheer you up,” you laughed and turned to look at Angel. You felt yourself biting your lip as you looked Angel up and down. He was dressed in dark jeans and a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms and tattoos. You could have sworn the man was sculpted by the Gods. He was a real-life Adonis.

He was standing by the kitchen counter, looking down at his boots with a sad look on his face. It broke your heart. While Angel may look tough on the outside, he was sensitive and could be a real softy at times. When you first began going to the Clubhouse, it did not take long for the two of your to become friends. You both liked to tease one another and even hung out regularly. It always remained friendly between you and Angel, which was hard because you could not deny your growing attraction to the biker.

You motioned for Angel to sit beside you on the couch. He did so without hesitation. The television was on some sports channel as you and Angel sat next to each other in silence and sipped your beers. Comfortable silence. You rested your head on Angel’s shoulder and took his free hand in yours. It was not an uncommon gesture from you. The two of you could be very affectionate with one another; light touches here and there, a few kisses too. So much so that it often confused the guys at the Club about your relationship status. The guys would tease Angel about not making a move on you. But he would merely reply with, “It’s not like that. Y/N is…special.” This only made the guys laugh more or roll their eyes at Angel’s obliviousness.

Angel may be many things, but when it came to you, oblivious he was not. He was simply taking his time getting to know you. Angel didn’t want it to be a one-and-done thing. Especially as he got to know you more. The more Angle got to know you, the more he liked you and vice versa.

You felt Angel’s free hand slowly slide up your thigh. He kept checking for your reaction to see if you would stop him or pull away. You did neither. In fact, you hiked up the short dress you were wearing even more to allow him more access. When he lightly graced a finger alongside the front of your underwear, he looked into your eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked cautiously. Angel knew that one wrong move and his friendship with you could be over.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

Putting the beers to the side, you straddle Angel’s lap as he rested his large hands on your ass. You leaned in to kiss him on the lips, which he quickly reciprocated. The kiss started out slow, as if you both were testing the waters. You could feel the bulge in Angel’s pants begin to harden, and you inadvertently began to grind against him.

When Angel pushed you back lightly to look at you, at first, you thought he was going to say that this was a bad idea. Instead, Angel told you to stand up. “Take your dress off.”

You turned around for Angel to help with the zipper and slid the dress off your body. You were about to climb on his lap once more, but Angel stopped you. “Bra and panties too. Leave the boots on.”

Unclipping your bra, you tossed it to the side and did the same with your underwear. Now here you were, standing in front of the man you were attracted to naked. You were feeling embarrassed or self-conscious, especially with the way Angel was looking at you, like he was ready to devour every inch of you. He began to run his large hands up your hips, over your stomach, and to your breasts, which he gave a squeeze.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Angel gushed as he continued to run his hands up and down your body before giving your ass a light smack.

He took one of his fingers and began tracing your pubic bone. Before Angel slid a finger inside your cunt, he looked up one last time to see if you had any reservations.

You gave the nod for him to go ahead. You let out a soft moan as Angel’s large finger stretched your folds.

“Goddamn, baby, you are tight. That’s it, fuck yourself on my finger,” Angel instructed.

You did just that before Angel slipped in another finger and used his thumb to tease your clit.

“Holy shit,” you managed to breathe out. To steady yourself, you put your hands on Angel’s shoulder.

Carefully, Angel took one of your legs and put it over his shoulder. He made sure to use his free arm to hold you up. “That’s it. Are you close?”

“Yes, I’m close.”

For added stimulation, Angel added a third finger inside your pussy. You could feel yourself tighten around his fingers. “I’m going to cum!” you exclaimed, your breathing becoming rapid.

“Cum! Cum on my fingers,” ordered Angel and you more than happily obliged.

Never had you experienced an orgasm so euphoric. If Angel could get you off with only his fingers, then you wondered how his cock would feel.

Pulling his fingers out of your folds, Angel licked them clean. The sight turned you on once again. You took your leg off his shoulder and leaned against his chest to catch your breath. He ran his hands up and down your back as a show of comfort. He even went so far as to take the blanket off the back of the couch to wrap around your naked body.

When you finally came down from your high, you placed soft kisses along Angel’s neck and ear.

Giggling, Angel asked you what was funny.

“It’s just, I came here to make you feel better,” you blushed, “I didn’t expect you to…you know….”

“I’d do anything for you, baby,” Angel revealed as he stroked the side of your face. “Making you feel good has put me in a much better mood.”

“Well then, let me return the favor,” you said and began to unbuckle Angel’s belt, but he stopped you.

You quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion.

Angel wrapped his arms around you, and you settled closer on his lap. “We got all the time in the world, baby. No need to rush,” Angel expressed as he looked into your eyes. There was a sense of love and devotion in his beautiful dark brown orbs. He wanted you, just as much as you wanted him.

He was correct; there was no need to rush. The night was still young. You had plenty of time to return the favor.

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes smut #mayans mc #mayans mc fic

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 3 years

Text

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #bishop losa #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa

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