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#mayans mc fic
darqchilddaydreamz · 9 months
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18+ ONLY BLOG *🚩MINORS GO AWAY!🚩
3+ k words
The Mayans belong to FX. My heart belongs to these fools & these stories belong to me.
Reblog! Comment like it sends me a thrill...cuz it does ;)
P.S. pls be gentle... ya girl's nerves are SHOT! P.S.S. Every word of this is @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna 's fault. Look what you did, babygirl.
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Coco Cruz
Normally when you hit the clubhouse you and Coco part ways for a while. You would go hang out with a few of the girls you knew while he joined his brothers, talking shit and laughing. Eventually coming back together to check in and chill together, but tonight you were glued to his side. He didn't mind you snuggling up or sitting in his lap. Coco loved that you were openly affectionate, he blossomed under it and it left no doubt in anyone around that you were his. He needed your sweetness but he also liked how you were a sneaky tease - quietly whispering nasty little nothings whenever the activity in the room had the other's attention, then walking away a picture of innocence. Finding ways to get inside his clothes, startling him with the sudden presence of your teasing nails or warm fingertips on his skin.
As the night went on, you asked to wear his hoodie and he didn't think anything of it. He handed it over, assuming you were going outside for a while. But after a few minutes you returned with a beer for him and he thanked you with a kiss on your forehead, talking over your head while you wrapped your arms around him.
"Coco?"
"Yeah?" he said, still listening to the conversation going on.
"Coco."
"What? Hold on a fuck-,". Frowning, he looked down at you, and his sentence trapped in his throat.
You had unzipped the front of his hoodie just enough to show him that you were no longer wearing your shirt and his favorite teal lace bra, cupping his other two favorite things perfectly, were staring back at him.
Zipping it back up quickly, he gave you a dark look and you stared back letting him decide what to do with your silent message. You grinned when he grabbed your hand. "We gotta fuckin' go, bro. Later!" He tossed out the goodbye without waiting for an answer and drug you out of the clubhouse and down the stairs behind him.
He didn't say a word to you on the quick tense drive home. Sensing the sharp edges of his energy, you bit your lip every time he gunned harder to shift gears. Entering the house, he closed the door and pressed you against it. Pulling away from your attempt to wrap your arms around him for a kiss, his dark eyes shimmered and his hand closed around your throat. He didn't have to tell you how much he enjoyed how wide your eyes were. The way your chest heaved trying to get a full breath in had his hardness jutting into your thigh, doing all the talking for him. He yanked once on the sleeve of his jacket you were wearing, "Take my shit off."
Slipping out of his hoodie, you let it fall to the floor and stood frozen while his eyes traveled your newly exposed skin. Taking three steps back, his eyes never left your teal-covered treasures while he lit a cigarette. Tipping up his chin, he exhaled harshly. His voice gravelly and tight uttered a command that weakened your knees.
"You know what? Take all that shit off."
Coco didn't so much as remove his cut while you abandoned your clothes in a messy pile beside your feet. Stepping into you, he traced down your arm. "You wanted to stir up shit tonight, huh?" The lightness of his touch was a sharp contrast to the menace in his voice, "Fuckin' wit' me all fuckin' night."
You didn't even notice his fingers had wrapped up in yours until he tightened his grip and pulled you forward, his mouth so close to yours you shared a breath. "I got you, tho. Believe that shit. Bring yo ass."
Pushing you to sit down on the center cushion of the couch, he pulled over an armchair and sat down across from you. Pointing at you with his cigarette, he looked you over. "A'ight then…since you such a badass flashin' yo tits in the middle of the fuckin' clubhouse…lemme see my shit."
Leaning back on the couch, you bit down on a smile and brought up your feet to rest your heels on the edge of the cushion, spreading wide. Coco's face lost its hardness for a millisecond. The look that passed over his features, the way he licked his lips had you clenching your fists for wanting relief from the deep throbbing that had begun at the clubhouse and had only intensified with every passing minute since leaving it.
Wanting more, he taunted you, "What you gonna do with that, huh?"
You touched lightly across your stomach and lower, while he adjusted in his chair. When you trailed your fingers over your clean-shaven parted place, Coco smashed out his cigarette and unfastened his pants, releasing his hard length. Holding himself with his thumb tracing under the rim, he watched your fingers slow dance between your legs, dipping down for more silken moisture and spreading it.
Holding his throbbing erection in his hand, he began to stroke slowly, his eyes blazing. "I wanna cum just lookin' at you, you know that shit, right?"
"Me?" Slipping your fingers between your folds making faster circles, you sigh. Coco groaned unable to look away.
"Goddamn it." He stroked himself a little faster. "You ain't right wit' this shit, baby. You ain' playin' fair right now. Fuck!"
"But you told me to, baby." You whine, more because of the helpless look on his face than your own fingers expertly bringing you completion.
"I know," he groaned, slowing his movements, gaining control of himself again. "There's so many fuckin' things I wanna do to you."
It sounded more like a threat than a promise and your entire core clenched as if he called it by name. Unable to wait any longer while he thought up another pseudo-punishment for you, you sit up. Licking your lips, you dip your eyes down to his length, "Gimmie that."
Coco chuckled, seeing the need in your eyes, "Why'on you come over here take it."
On your knees, you want his pants off but he slaps your hands away so you lick up his shaft, watching as his eyes widen the closer you get to his already leaking tip. Always so messy - you loved that about him. He couldn't hide his arousal if he wanted to. You draw up extra saliva on your tongue wetting your lips to be able to take him in. He watched as you enclosed his tip between your lips and more of him and more. Halfway down you worked your tongue up and down and around, caressing every vein-covered inch, while he dug one hand in your hair and the other gripped the armrest for an anchor to help him maintain control.
"Oh, fuck yeah. I love that tongue, baby. Like that." Losing himself, he gripped your head in both hands, and he let his head flop back. "Fuuuuck, that shit's bomb."
You lowered your head slowly, loving the barking gasps that came from him as you let him tap the back of your velvet throat, making swallowing motions that massaged him delectably and tightened the suction. He let go of your hair to grip the armrests, breathing deep to calm himself down and slow the escalation, pumping up into your mouth a few times before he told you to stop mid-groan. You refused, speeding up, wanting his salty release not only to please him but also to take the edge of his aggression and his focus on you. Only Coco wasn't that far gone, he knew what you were doing and he wasn't having it. His tugging hard on your hair forced you to release him. Your whine was a drug for him. Staring at your lips he got lost for a moment, then caught himself. He gripped your neck to pull you up face-to-face with him, calling you out. "You think you slick, don't you? You was talkin' all that shit in my ear before…talkin' 'bout how you wanted it all night. You think I'm stupid?"
He watched your face for the change, for the moment you recognize that all the power had been shifted back to him. Seeing the realization begin to reflect in your eyes, his mouth turned up in a half smile. "You tryin' ta blow me off so I can't kill that fuckin' pussy, huh?"
"No! I wasn't, Johnny!" Using his real name was your last ploy but he saw it for what it was.
"Yeah, you were." His darkened tone was shooting delicious pulses directly to the junction of your thighs, foreshadowing what was coming. Standing up, he held on to your neck, making scramble to your feet as he pulled you up with him. "Naw, you ain' punkin' out tonight, mamas. You gonna take this dick till I say it's enough." Turning you around he held you tight to his chest. You could feel the buttons on his cut in your back and his hand palming your hip. Switching his hold to your hair, he kissed down the side of your neck. "Who's fuckin' cat is this?"
"Yours!" Your response was immediate, blasting out on a gasp as he bit down.
"Fuck, yeah it is." He tightened his grip on your hair as his hand crept up your torso, capturing your breast and ghosting his palm over the tight peak. You shivered under the precise assault and his voice that was now a heated warning on your skin. "An' I don' wanna hear no 'stop baby'. No 'please'. No fuckin' 'wait'…none a that shit."
At this point you were squeezing your thighs together, rubbing back against him because Coco was talking himself up and you knew the staying power that came with that. You hadn't meant to push him this far and now you were in for you forward to the couch, he pushed until you climbed up, kneeling on it. Expecting to feel him nudging at your entrance you arched back, seeking his thickness, so when Coco sat on the floor, you had no time to mentally switch gears and prepare yourself. He tugged you down, his mouth already open, his breath hot on your vee. The zing that shot through you from his first slurping lick would have shot you through the ceiling, but his slim stature belied the strength in the arms he had wrapped around your thighs - you weren't going anywhere.
"You got the sweetest pussy, baby." His voice rumbled against your thigh, followed by a bite. Disarmed, you melted under the sweet sentiment but the stinging slap he gave your butt cheek smarted and had you squirming. Coco responded by giving you long flat licks from asshole to the very beginning of your split until you let out a whimpering cry clutching handfuls of his hair. Whining and rocking, you clamped your lips down on the sounds wanting to pour out of you for as long as you could. He worked you till your blood was lava rushing through your veins. Your breath came in tiny gasps as pleasure built up. You wanted more but Coco was keeping his licks and suckling spaced out, starting and stopping the caressing massage on your clit to build you up and then let you plateau, making you frantic for the next wicked motions of his mouth. This deviant was keeping you sensitive on purpose, he didn't want you too numb to keep going. Waves of heat washed over you again and again, you were so close but he was holding back.
"Johnny, please!" The cry fell from your mouth before you could think of the consequences.
He was out from under you and flipping you on your back before you could blink. He sat on your legs, his knees pressed into the couch outside them and leaning forward holding your arms down.
Wiping his mouth, his smile held a touch of sinister. "You trying to tell me what to fuckin' do wit' my shit?"
"I'm sorry!"
"Fuck that. Too late, baby."
Settled down between your legs, he watched you over the top of your abdomen until only his eyes and a flop of hair were visible to you. Resting his arm on your thigh, he squeezed your puffy lips together. Holding them tight between his long slim fingers, left only a peek of your clit exposed. Licking his lips, he opened his mouth wide and drug his tongue flat and wet up the center in a slow, long torturous lick. Your eyes flew open wide, your hands took in full handfuls of his hair while your back arched up tight, every muscle in your body tensed. The surface of his tongue scraping the trapped tip of your clit caused you to vibrate, mewling out a shaky, stuttering moan. "Oooooooooh! My God!"
Coco was an evil genius, holding your clit captive between your own lips, his head slowly swiveling up and down for the longest, continuous stroke his tongue could provide. Occasionally peeking up to see your agony, daring you to ask him to stop.
When he let go, you practically wailed from the blood rushing back to your tortured folds and the ache from your lack of fulfillment. Sitting up, he looked pleased with himself, stripping off his clothes as fast as he could. Wiping the tear gathered in the corner of your eye, he hovered over you so close that your field of vision was only his face. "See? See what that shit gets you?"
Watching you mouth the words I love you, Coco's eyes turned soft for a moment. His voice, full of adoration for you, softened his next words. "I told you, mamas. You don' get to tell me shit, right now. Matta fact, if you ain't screamin' my fuckin' name I don' want to hear shit."
You wanted to cry when he sat back up, fighting the need to pull him back down on you, missing his weight and warmth. Your eyes pleaded with him while he traced over your body, proud ownership of your pleasure shining from his. With his iron-hard thickness in his hand, he pushed you further. "You want it?"
Your nod brought a dangerous glint to his eyes and smile that told you he was about to remind you who ran things in the best way. Shifting to kneel higher up between your legs with his hands pressing your thighs down, he raised his eyebrows amused at your trembling, "Put it in."
Scrambling to get up on your elbows, you reach down to line him up with your opening, desperate for connection. Coco rocked slightly, barely helping, while you nearly bit through your lip to keep from screaming your only thought at him…Gimmie the dick, damnit!
Sliding in part of the way, he closed his eyes for a second, listening to you whine. He could feel you squirming and bucking trying to draw him all the way in. "Shit, baby," he rasped out, raking his hair back. "You wet as fuck."
His eyes were now glued to the spot where he was splitting you open. Watching himself disappear inside of you with his lips parted and his hair dangling in his face. "Squeeze it," he ordered without ever looking away from your connection. You clenched around him, letting your slick grip tempt him, loving the way his eyelids dipped. His face softened by the intensity of the sensations crawling up his body. Eyes wide and panting you waited for him, your fingertips brushing and squeezing his side, fighting the urge to drag him down onto you.
"Do it again."
Your tunnel's fluttering response to his words was involuntary, gripping him hard in three quick spasms. Your hips rolling up were also out of your control and the minute drag on his pulsing length snapped him into action. Leaning forward, he slammed into you with enough force to scoot you up into the armrest of the sofa and push a cry out of you. Overwhelmed by the wait, your first reaction was to try to push him back to lessen the deep dive but he immediately slapped your hands away from his waist.
"Naw, fuck that!" Torn between reminding you that he was the boss and his deep feelings for you, he leaned into every stroke, his voice guttural and frantic, "Take that shit, querida! I fucking love you! Aaaah shit! "
When he bent to kiss you, possessive and wild, you tasted your tangy juice on his lips and tongue. You gulped in air between the hip thrusts he issued that punched it all back out. Within minutes you were there, covering your mouth with your own hand to make sure no words crossed your lips that would make him stop again. Giving no mercy, Coco kept at his pace and his dizzying depth - his unrelenting hips slamming into you, even while you screamed into the free fall of your release.
"Unnnnnnnhh, goddamnit!" Feeling himself losing control, he raised up and quickly grabbed your throat, squeezing - not wanting your cries to push him over. Through clenched teeth, he gave voice to his desperate struggle to not come, "Fucking! Shut! Up! Fuck!"
You gasped and choked your way through your orgasm with him letting go in intervals to let you desperately suck in air. Changing tactics, Coco pulled out roughly, leaving you spasming around nothing, giving himself a brief respite from the demand of your milking walls. He dropped to the floor on his knees, turning you on the couch and yanking you toward him so your ass was on the edge of the cushion. Reentering you with renewed ambition for your undoing, he put both of your legs up on his shoulders leaving you to hold on to the back of the couch above your head while he drilled new life into you.
Your heightened delirium had your mouth hanging open. High cries and panicky gasps flowed out from you unfettered, mixed with long moans filling his ears with encouragement. Your need to hold on to him made your hands fly frantically to grip the back of his neck, his shoulders, his hair - anything and everything while your body wound tight around the next orgasm he was pounding out of you. His grip on your thighs that kept slipping from the sweat covering your bodies added to the feeling of being mauled, dominated. With both hands, he alternated between holding your thighs snug to him for the deepest dive and snatching you open by your ankles so he could see everything.
All you could do was chant his name as you crested again, this time taking him with you. Feeling the coil in his groin winding to the snapping point, Coco stood up to lean over you, lifting your hips up in the air. His final thrusts were fast, hard snaps, doled out with animalistic grunts as if he was fighting his approaching release the whole way. A litany of curses flew from his mouth, launched with the same force as the spurts of his cum spraying your walls, blending in with your cries, all of it washing over you as you convulsed. Despite his orgasm forcing him to drop one knee onto the couch in order to not collapse, his hips still involuntarily kept up just enough movement to keep rolling spasms running through both of your bodies. The room was filled with your whimpers and his loud, barking exhales as you pressed your hands into his shoulders and chest quietly begging for it to end. "Okayokayokay, baby! Please!"
With a long groan, Coco slid back to the floor as you slowly slumped sideways to be able to lay down on the couch, still trembling. Flopping his head back, he gathered his breath with his hair brushing your legs. Eventually, he grabbed his pants to dig out his cigarettes and lighter.
Humming out each exhale and still trying to collect yourself, you felt the sweaty knots in the back of your head, you smiled lazily and nudged him. "Baby…you ruined my hair.
Blowing his smoke up to the ceiling, he shrugged, "You the one made me dick you down, mamas." Turning to look at you over his shoulder, his mouth did its signature downturn on the ends before he smiled, "It ain't my fault."
-fin-
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flightlessangelwings · 6 months
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Ktober 2023 Day 3- Exhibitionism
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Bishop Losa x fem!reader
Word count- 1.2k
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), fingering, public sex, hint at a bj,dirty talk, praise kink, cum eating, reader wears short shorts and a low cut top, no use of y/n
Notes- I had SO much fun writing this one y'all have no idea! And it was something a little different for me too! Prompt list made by me. Enjoy!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!
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~
“Nice shot, baby,” Bishop purred as you sank another ball in the net.
The two of you played pool in the clubhouse while everyone else gathered and drank and laughed. Angel and Coco played darts in the corner, and they squabled like siblings when each thought the other was losing. Visitors from other chapters of the Mayans filled the clubhouse, and everyone was having a great time.
But all Bishop could focus on was you. How sexy you looked when you bent over the pool table to take your shot. How your brow furrowed in concentration, your determination to beat him apparent on your face. How your breasts started to spill out of your top. How your shorts were just short enough to show a little hint of asscheck, something Bishop always loved.
Vaguely, you were aware of Bishop's heavy gaze on you, but you were too focused on your shot to put your full attention to. You cursed under your breath when you missed your next shot, but when you turned to him next to you, your heart pounded in your chest. Sweat lined your brow, and it wasn’t just from the heat inside the space.
Bishop eyed you up and down with a smirk on his face, “Baby you’re so fuckin’ sexy when you care about a stupid game of pool like that,” his tone was low as he sauntered towards you, closing the space between your bodies and settling slightly behind you.
“Bish,” you couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped your lips as he caressed your hips and pressed his body against yours. But, as he grasped your ass, giving it a little smack, you let out a low moan that would have caught the attention of anyone nearby if it weren’t for a roar of laughter that erupted at the same time.
“I bet I could fuck you with my fucking fingers right here and no one would notice,” Bishop groaned into your ear as he nibbled on your neck and a hand dripped under the hem of your shorts.
“You what?!” you were caught off guard by his words. But, as he tickled your pussy every so slightly, you found any care you might have had vanished.
“Do you want me to, baby?” Bishop purred, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers right here? Let anyone who might notice see you cum on my fuckin’ fingers?”
If you said the word, Bishop would pull away, albeit he would definitely take you into a closet or bathroom and fuck you in private instead. You felt his hardening cock against your thigh and you let out another moan. The room spun as you thought it over, “I want you to,” you finally whispered as you turned your head and kissed him deeply.
“Let me hear you say it, sweetheart,” he murmured as he bucked his hips against your body and sank his hand lower into your shorts, feeling the warmth of your cunt under his fingers.
“I want you to fuck me with your fingers… Right here,” your tone was low and sultry and dripped with need, “And let anyone watch as you make me cum.”
“That’s my girl,” Bishop growled as he suddenly dove two fingers into your pussy.
You gasped at the sudden intrusion and lurched forward to grab onto the pool table for balance. Bishop stayed close, using his body to support you from behind as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, “Fuck baby… So wet for me.”
All you could do was moan as your body quickly warmed from his touch. 
Bishop wrapped his other arm around your body and cupped at your breast through your shirt, rubbing at your nipple through the fabric, “Does it turn you on, sweetheart?” he asked in a deep voice, “That anyone could look over and see you like this?”
“Y-yes,” you admitted in a whisper.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, “Anyone could look over here and see how fucking sexy you look like this,” he thrust his fingers more roughly into you, hitting spots deep inside you, “But they can only see your face, baby… This fucking pussy,” he gave another harsh thrust, “Is mine.”
“Yours,” you moaned as you saw stars. You gripped the table so hard you almost felt like it could break under your grasp, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care about anything else other than how good Bishop fucked you with his fingers, and how much you craved your release.
“That’s my good girl,” Bishop praised as his rubbed your clit with his thumb, “So fuckin’ good taking my fingers right here in the fucking clubhouse.”
“Bish…”
Suddenly he froze. When you let out a whine, he murmured your name, “Looks like we caught someone’s attention, baby.”
You opened your eyes, not even realizing you had closed them, noticing a prospect from the other chapter across the room. His eyes bore into you and his thoughts were easy to read from the look on his face. His jaw clenched and he had a grip on his beer bottle so tight that he might shatter at any second.
“Why don’t we give him a show?” you purred as you turned and gave Bishop a heated kiss.
“I fucking love you, baby,” Bishop chased your lips when you broke away and kissed you once more before he started thrusting his fingers into you once more.
You moaned loudly against his lips as you rested your head on his shoulder, surrendering yourself to the Mayan completely. Your mind swam as you felt your orgasm quickly build from Bishop hitting your sweet spot over and over again while his thumb grazed your clit.
“He can watch, baby,” Bishop growled as he picked up his pace, “But he can’t have you,” his tone dropped as his grip on you tightened, “You’re fucking mine.”
“Yours… Yes… Fuck…”
“That’s it, sweetheart, cum for me,” Bishop groaned as he felt your inner muscles clench around his fingers, “Show that fucking prospect what he can’t have.”
With that, you came hard with a scream. Your entire body trembled as you fought to keep yourself upright against the pool table, and you felt yourself gush onto Bishop’s fingers. He talked you through your climax, mumbling praises and curses in your ear as you rode out your high on his fingers.
The only reason no one else noticed was because the prospect snapped his beer bottle in his head the moment you screamed, and everyone else was too busy watching him to notice what you and Bishop were up to on the other side of the room. Some of the others cursed and berated the prospect, but a fierce look from Bishop kept him quiet about why he suddenly caused a scene.
“That’s my good girl,” Bishop cooed your ear in a softer tone as he pulled out of you, “So fucking sexy,” he added as he turned you to face him and made you watch as he licked his fingers clean, “And delicious too.”
“Bish!” you playfully chastised him with a light smack on his shoulder as your face felt hot, “That was really hot, though,” you admitted as you shimmied your shoulders softly and placed your hands on his chest, “How about I return the favor?” your tone dropped as you slowly sank to your knees, “Right fucking here.”
Bishop’s eyes went wide and a pulse of need shot through his veins, “Baby, I fuckin’ love you,” he blurted out as he readied himself for your mouth.
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bullet-prooflove · 3 months
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Traditions - Angel Reyes x Reader
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Part of @storiesofsvu Holiday Bingo! The square was Decorations!
Tagging: @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @trhett21 @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @thatonesexycancerian @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @cheyrenee @fanfic-n-tabulous @deliriousfangirl61 @daydreaming-belle @est1887 @thanossexual @creativitybeware @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @joyfulfxckery @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @bonsaijoons @justreblogginfics '@crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @storiesofsvu
Following on from the Taken!Series
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It’s the first time since Marisol’s death that Felipe’s house is being decorated for Christmas. Angel, EZ and Felipe don’t usually celebrate the season, instead they have a couple of beers, watch a few movies and let the day pass them by. You’re not much different. You’ve been on your own since your Nana died, you used to spend the day in the fields with your music on, collecting buds or in the apothecary making the balm that soothes away all of those aches and pains. Now there’s a child in the mix things are different. Angel’s decided to go all out and that apparently includes buying the largest Christmas tree known to man.
“She’s four months old.” You remind Angel as him and EZ wrestle with getting the tree through the front door. “I don’t think she minds how big the tree is.”
“I tried to tell him.” EZ tells you as he guides the trunk into the stand and begins to twist the pins that hold it in place. “But he was adamant, it had to be this one. I think Valeria’s first Christmas is making him a little nuts.”
“Then I guess we’re doing this thing.” You say, your palm brushing over Valeria’s fine dark hair as she snuggles even deeper into your chest.
“You are doing this thing.” EZ corrects you, kissing his niece on the top of the head. “I have hampers to deliver, you get to deal with all of his madness.”
“Traitor.” You accuse as you walk him to the door.
EZ gives you that shit-eating grin of his as you shoot him the middle finger. You watch him climb on his bike, raising Valeria’s hand to wave goodbye before you close the door behind him. When you turn to face the tree, it feels like it’s even bigger than it was two minutes ago. You can hear Angel in the other room, rooting through the box of decorations that he’d brought down from the attic.
“OK kid, your dad’s gone a little crazy but we’re gonna lean it into it ok?” You say to Valeria as her tiny fist grips the fabric of your shirt. “We’re just gonna lean right into it.”
***
Valeria is asleep by the time you’ve finished decorating the living room. The tree glows from the corner of the room, bathing it in a warm light as the two of you sit on the floor alongside Valeria’s bassinet. The scent of pine floods your nostrils, the sound of Bing Crosby’s Christmas album playing on the decade’s old stereo. You’re both drinking hot chocolate, not the instant kind. One made from traditional cocoa, something Angel had picked up along with the whipped cream and marshmallows.
It's perfect, this moment. Your little family taking a breath and enjoying the holidays. It’s been a hell of a year with everything that happened with Skye and then your recovery but you’re here celebrating the holiday season with your lover and daughter.
“You know, I thought you’d gone a little insane with all of this but now I get it.” You say as you survey the room, the tiny family heirlooms on the mantlepiece, the fairy lights intermingled with the wreath. “It’s beautiful.”
“You thought I’d lost my mind, didn’t you?” Angel teases as his lips brush over your temple.
“A little.” You admit, taking a sip of your hot chocolate. “But I get it. You want the perfect Christmas for our little girl, something like the ones you remember from your childhood.”
“My mom used to make it so special.” Angel tells you as his gaze comes to rest on the tiny handmade ornaments he’d made with his mom once upon a time. “Even when we were grown, we’d still come over, help her decorate. I want traditions like that with Valeria, with you...”
His hand comes to rest upon your stomach, his thumb smoothing over the place where his son resides. He knows it’s a boy, he can feel it in his bones. “Our new baby.”
“You haven’t told anyone right?” You murmur, your palm coming to rest upon his. “It’s still too early.”
“No Mi Reina I haven’t.” He says, tipping your chin up so you can meet his gaze. There’s such love in those eyes, such tenderness, such adoration. His lips brush over yours and it’s the sweetest kiss, so soft, so meaningful. His thumb ghosts along the line of your jaw and he smiles just a little as you moan into his mouth. “Isn't that what got us here in the first place?”
He draws away as Valeria mumbles grumbles in her sleep, his gaze slipping to his daughter.
“I can’t believe how blessed I am.” He tells you, his warm fingers splaying over your abdomen. “You, Valeria and little peanut are the best gifts I could have asked for.”
“It’s going to be a great Christmas.” You say entwining your fingers with his. “The best one yet.”
Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
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darklydeliciousdesires · 11 months
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Fury Road - An Angel Reyes/Reader Smut Short.
I dreamed of having car sex with Angel last night, so now you get to enjoy it as well, besties!
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Words - 837
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
“This makes me feel like I’m in high school still, hiding from parents or some shit,” he pants, tongue swirling with yours as his hands tug at your clothes.  
“Yeah,” you gasp, your mouth laying hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, yanking his shirt undone and sending the buttons you’re too shaky with arousal to finish undoing flying. “It’s been a while since my ass has seen the backseat of a car.” 
Sometimes, you just can’t wait until home. When Angel has been in charge of the transport, you've pulled over at the side of the highway and had him fuck you against his bike, but tonight, it’s your car that features as the location for two people who never have and never will be able to get enough of one another.  
He’s rough with you in his haste to have you naked beneath him, all fiery longing and impulses driven by need, by the blinding desire to slip into the heaven of your cunt and fuck you senseless, your underwear snapping in his grasp, his fingers stroking over your clit before plunging to take root inside of you, the metal of his thick rings cool at your hot, soaking entrance.  
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, fingertips exploring you, circling, nudging until you buck against him, eliciting a whine he kisses away as his mouth meets yours. “Damn, I ain’t even started and you’re this wet?” 
“What can I say?” you purr. “You know I’m a cock hungry whore for you.” Those words mist his senses, his fingers beginning to glide back and forth as he rakes at your tender walls, having you gasping and crying out, unfastening his jeans, needing something much more considerable in size than his fingers. “Need you. Right now.” 
He pushes his jeans and boxers down his hips a little, his cock like a steel post as he grasps it, pushing into you, his teeth sharp at your neck as the velvet hug of your pussy contracts around him. It’s fever-hot and urgent, your bodies undulating together, your thighs tightening on him as your legs draw up and clench around his waist, nails grazing his back as you pant against one another.
What he gives you is all-out sexual brutality, the car beginning to rock, your body sliding back only for the clutch of his powerful hands to keep hauling you back, anchoring you to him, forcing you to take the brunt of his fuck entirely. And that brunt, nothing could feel better. Nothing ever feels better than Angel, fucking you with all the power of a turbo charged jackhammer. Nothing.
His body is an absolute masterpiece to your lust blown eyes, all thick, smooth and tattooed, covered in a sheen of sweat as he rails you mercilessly into the back seat, rising up as much as he’s able and reaching to the soaking mess of your folds, his thumb beginning to stroke at your hardened clit, pleasure shimmering over your spine, the swell skittering over your veins and down to your bones as you wail helplessly, at the mercy of him, not that he shows you even a fraction of that. 
“Look at you, fuck. You’re so fuckin’ hot, split around my dick.” He growls, grasping your legs and hauling them up to rest against your shoulders, bearing his entire weight down into you through his pelvis, making you scream when his cock hits you deep, deep, deep. His groans fill the air between you, his teeth sharp at your neck, marking you with the brandings of a man near out of his sanity with carnal fury. He then slows, each plunge into your soaking centre given in all-in, all-out thrusts, teasing your aching core, chuckling at your frustrated mewl as he pants hard. 
“Angel, please! Fucking give it to me!” you demand, nails raking his arms. 
“But I am, dulce. Just not the way you want it.” He winks, laughing further at your frustration, the circles at your clit rubbed so slowly, lightly and tightly that you almost forget to breathe, his cock popping out again, pausing, arrowing back to your summit as he groans when you flutter strongly around him. He leans forward, kissing your throat before gently clutching your jaw, turning your head to look at him. “Alright, mi amor. I’ll give it to you.” 
And he does. And its utter heaven, the way he arrows into you without even a hint of control, long, hard, barbarous thrusts delighting your entire body, your screams filling the car as lava begins to bubble and pool at the base of your spine, your release set to erupt, his thumb circling at your bud faster.   
His teeth crush at your neck, whispering a string of cusses as his undoing possesses him, like a demon vying for release, your entire body tensing as with fury, longing and fire, you come undone spectacularly beneath him, seeing stars, breathless and sweaty, and oh so very satisfied. You’re unsure you’ll be able to drive without crashing, though. 
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obsessedasusual · 4 months
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Lonely No More - Eight
Bishop Losa x OC Series
Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.
Warnings: swearing, feels, everything MC related really
Note: -2k hellloooooo!!!! When I tell you I have had the first half of this written since my last bloody upload I’m not kidding🫣🫣 I won’t try to defend myself, I’ll just leave this for you to chew on byeeeeee
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It had been four days since the incident, as Amalia was now calling it.
Four days and she hadn’t heard from Bishop. She hadn’t been running past his house as usual, she had however heard a Harley ride past each morning and night. It seemed Bishop wasn’t swaying from his usual route to the club, just deciding to not stop in.
No texting, no calling, no notes.
Radio silence.
She had also been avoiding her brothers, which wasn’t hard. Angel had tried to call her once which she had ignored, instead flicking a text his way saying, sorry busy with work, will call you back, she hadn’t, and he hadn’t tried again.
She even turned the other way when she almost ran into Gilly at the grocery store the day prior. Instead pushing her cart down the aisle of baby bottles and nappies. She was sure she’d successfully dodged him and he hadn’t seen her. He had, but figured she wasn’t in the mood to talk and let her be.
Her mind was stuck on that night, replaying it over and over. It was obviously a mistake. Had to have been. There was no way he had meant to kiss her.
Her friend Zoe had been let in on the secret when she came knocking, worried about her best friend’s sudden dazed mood. Well… Zoe had been let in on how she had made out with a guy and it was great, amazing, fantastic but it was bad, terrible, never should have happened. The fact that the ‘guy’ was a slightly older President of a fucking outlaw club was conveniently left out.
“You can’t be this torn up over a kiss and not give me any details!” Zoe had pouted over a cup of coffee.
Amalia paced the length of her dining table, hands on her forehead in frustration, “it’s not the kiss that’s the issue! Well, okay it’s kind of the kiss but it’s more to do with who the kiss was with!”
“Which was who?”
“I… I can’t say,” Amalia sighed, “it was just with someone it really shouldn’t have been with and now he won’t talk to me and I don’t know what this means or what happens from here. Do I just ignore it too? What if I see him around? I mean, I’m definitely gonna see him around this town is only so big-“
“So he’s a local?”
“And if my brothers ever found out Jesus Christ they would have my head on a platter. They’d kill me! They would actually kill me. They’d never speak to me again-“
“I’m sure they’d be okay with it-“
“Ha! Okay with it? You don’t know my brothers, they’d hit the roof. Angel especially, oh shit Angel-“
“Okay! A! You need to stop and take a breather, seriously. Just talk to me. We can talk it out and work out what to do.” Zoe stood from her seat, gently touching Amalia’s arm and steering her toward a chair.
“Take a breath. Okay, why is this freaking you out so much?”
Amalia looked from her friend to the ground, “I shouldn’t be involved with him.”
“Could you tell me why? If you like him and he likes you-“
“He doesn’t like me, Zo,” she interrupted, mumbling slightly, “It was just a caught in the moment sort of thing. And, even if he did. We couldn’t be involved.”
Zoe sighed, “You’ve said that, but why?”
“It’s… complicated.” The Reyes sister was right. It was complicated.
“Is he a friend of Angel’s?” If she wasn’t going to give straight answers, Zoe was going to start guessing.
Instead of answering, Amalia hesitated before nodding slowly. A friend… kind of. His boss. His President.
“You said he wouldn’t talk to you, have you tried calling him?” Zoe suggested causing Amalia to look down and shake her head.
Zoe continued, “Maybe you should? A simple phone call and this could all be fixed.”
Amalia rested her forehead against her clasped hands and sighed heavily, barely listening to her friend.
“It’ll get sorted out, A. It’ll be okay.”
Four days on, and it still had yet to be “sorted out”.
Had she tried to call him?
No.
Had he tried to call her?
Also no.
That shouldn’t have been cause for concern. Afterall, they’d had many days go by without a phone call before. But that was before. Before everything turned to shit in Amalia’s mind.
Her mind decided to torture her each night when she attempted to get a full night’s rest, teasing her with made up images of Bishop with another woman on his lap at a club party. Quite happily lapping up the attention.
She was sure that wasn’t the case, and even if it was, so what? He could do as he wanted. He was a single man. He could hook up with whoever he wanted. So why did the thought fill the brunette with so much dread?
Another sleepless night eventually led to morning and Amalia dragged herself out of bed, begrudgingly threw on an office appropriate outfit, washed her face and took a deep breath to ready herself for another day of seemingly meaningless work.
The day passed slowly. Send an email, answer a call, read an email, stare blankly at a report that was due tomorrow, wonder why James from sales insisted on hitting ‘reply all’ on an all company email for his reply of:
Thanks,
James.
Her mind numbing train of thought was gratefully interrupted by the short vibration of her phone, the contact on screen reading, Angel
Heads up if you see pop, he’s in a pissy mood.
Relevant enough to not be suspicious, but Amalia knew her brother well enough to know this was an attempt to break the wall of silence she had put between them.
Same with Ez.
Came a second text. Amalia typed out her reply.
Any particular reason?
Dunno. Come to the club later.
Amalia internally groaned. The freaking club. Why couldn’t he suggest his place like a normal brother?
Not in much of a party mood.
Chill. I meant to talk to your little brother.
Oh. Well, stopping by EZ’s trailer was out of the way of the club.. kind of. She could probably be in and out without raising the attention of the President. And if her brother needed her, that had to take priority, right?
Fine. Be there after work.
-
Amalia’s stomach was in knots as she drew closer to the club.
‘Sneak in, sneak out, you’ll be fine.’ She kept reminding herself.
If she saw Bishop she had a plan; hold her head high and carry on like the mature adult she was.
Putting her car in park, she gripped her steering wheel and drew a deep breath.
Get out of the car, she thought to herself, get out and beeline for the trailer.
She did just that.
Walking as light on her feet as she could without looking like she was guilty of something to draw as little attention as possible, she kept her head down and made her play straight for the trailer.
Chucky spotted her from the office window and waved out excitedly, she waved back, but apart from the likeable oddball, it seemed there was no one else around.
Good.
It was quiet around EZ’s trailer, as it usually is. Amalia hoped it meant he was tucked up inside minding his own business and not with the guys in the clubhouse.
“EZ!” She called as she approached the door, tapping twice, “You in here?”
She could hear a rustling coming from inside along with a muffled, “Just a sec!”
More rustling followed before finally the small door swung open to reveal the smiling younger brother.
“Hey, A. What’s up?” EZ leaned out the door but didn’t make any move to actually remove himself from his trailer, resulting in him towering over his sister - more than usual.
She gave him a little smile and shrugged, “Just hadn’t seen you around for a bit. Thought I’d check in.”
If EZ wanted to call bullshit he didn’t, instead playfully rolling his eyes, “I’m good, A. Nothing new to report here.”
Amalia knew her brother well enough to know he was lying. But she also knew she couldn’t push him too much, he was like Angel in that way.
She nodded, “Okay well… do you wanna go grab a coffee or something? I could do with a little outing.”
That wasn’t a lie, she could really do with the distraction.
She registered footsteps approaching from behind as EZ replied, “Uh, nah I’m good. Sorry just…” he shrugged, “kinda caught up with something at the moment.”
His smile was forced this time, eyes shooting between her and Angel who had just graced them with his presence. She didn’t acknowledge the oldest brother, attention still on EZ.
“You sure you’re good, EZ?”
Angel piped up, “I heard coffee. I’m down. Be good for some… sibling bonding or some shit.”
Clearly beginning to feel like he was being interrogated, the youngest Reyes pursed his lips and looked between his two siblings.
“What is this?” He started, glaring between them, “Some kind of intervention? You two gossiping about me now?”
While Amalia prepared to defend herself, Angel just shrugged and spoke first, “You’ve been acting weird lately. Pissed all the time. Same with pop. We’re just wondering what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing going on,” EZ stressed, “God you two need your own lives. Honestly, I’m good. Now if you don’t mind…” he gestured to the trailer, “I’m kinda busy right now.”
“Wait, EZ-“ Amalia was cut off by the door swinging closed, taking her younger brother with it. She turned to Angel, “What was that?”
Angel shrugged and looked at the trailer, “He’s been like that for a few days. Doesn’t say much to me.”
Since their mother’s passing, Amalia had tried really hard not to step into the ‘overbearing mother figure’ role. It wasn’t her job. And her brothers were both adults, she couldn’t expect them to tell her every detail about their lives. But in situations like this, when she could clearly see something wasn’t right, the urge to dig grew stronger.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Angel nudged her and they began walking back to her car, Amalia noted they were absentmindedly taking the long way, close to the clubhouse.
“Do you think it’s club shit?” She questioned, clocking Angel shaking his head in her peripheral.
“Nah. Things are decent at the moment. I think it’s gotta be something to do with him and Pop.”
Amalia sighed, “And like always, we’re the last to hear about it.”
“Yup.”
While they continued their slow walk toward her car, Amalia could feel eyes on her from afar. Turning her head slightly she found her gaze locked with that of the Mayan President. Gee what a surprise.
She quickly reverted her gaze and let it drop to the ground in front of her. Angel came to a stop and leant against an old fence, Amalia following suit.
“What about you?” Angel questioned. She look at her brother confused before he continued, “Are you okay? Didn’t hear from you for a while. Not like you.”
Amalia took a deep breath and looked around the yard, catching Bishop’s eye again. Neither moved their gaze this time, locked in a staring battle that the Reyes sister was sure to lose, “I’m okay, Angel. Just had some work shit going on. Forgot what a work/life balance was for a second.”
She broke her stare with the President and turned to give her brother a small smile, “I am good, Angel. Promise.”
Liar.
Angel nodded, accepting her answer, “Good. I can’t deal with two fucked up siblings.”
She let out a snort, “Welcome to my life, ‘mano.”
He pushed her and began to walk away, calling over his shoulder, “I’m coming for food this week.”
“Only if you use your manners!” She retorted, laughing when he raised his middle finger in farewell.
Her eyes darted the yard once more, again locking with Bishop’s from the porch. Man had a real staring problem apparently.
So he can openly stare at me but can’t send a girl a text?
Again being the first to break eye contact she quickly turned and headed for her car, readying herself to once again hide away and overthink what Bishop’s staring could mean.
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sogoodtoheritsvicious · 11 months
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pov: you’re on vacation with ez reyes 🌊
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Shadows on the Wall
Angel Reyes x Reader(You) Shortie but a Goodie
Warnings:18+Only! Smut below the keep reading line.
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Friday night and the Sons were celebrating Jackie Boy's birthday. Reapers and Mayans were mixing and mingling, playing pool, and some were outside watching Riz and Tig fight. You, though, were currently sitting at the bar, slamming back shots of Patron, giggling with Cherry as she poured you both another. Followed by another, and one more for good measure.
It happened so fast, cologne clouding the space around you, his hand coming to drag across your lower back, as he moved to perch on the stool next to you. Your body shivered at his touch, your pulse quickening as you waited to see if he would acknowledge you with words, after making you melt at the feel of his hand grazing across your lower back.
“Can’t be waitin’ on somebody, nah, ain’t no way anyone would be stupid enough to leave you unattended,” he smiled, taking the beer from Cherry with a nod, her eyes looking from him to you, knowingly.
“What if I said I was waiting on you?” You threw back at him, your eyes traveling up and down his frame, with your own feral desire.
“Angel!” Bishop shouted over to him, gesturing for the man to come over to the table filled with laughing men, and drunken women sitting on their laps, “come listen to this.”
He turned to speak but you raised an eyebrow at him, “Angel?” you shook your head with a smile, taking your last shot of the night.
“What’s so funny, Querida?” He tilted his head, eyes studying you.
Standing and smoothing your form-fitting dress, you placed your hand on his shoulder, leaning in close to his ear, your breath tickling his lobe as you spoke. “I just think you might be more devilish than angelic.” Your tongue brushed across your lips as you left him at the bar, his groan catching in his throat as he watched your ass sway away from him, into the crowd of people.
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Your room was dark, illuminated by the single candle on your shelf, shadows dancing across the walls, your hand's movements below your small pajama shorts, playing out across the walls. You were so focused on keeping your moans at bay, that you hadn't heard the door to your room open forgetting to lock it before you started to tease yourself.
“Need some help, Querida?” The tall, muscular man from the party stood over you, your eyes opened to meet his eyes, which were dark and lustful. Was this a fantasy getting away from you? Was he really here? All your questions were answered when you lightly shook your head up and down, his hand reaching into the hem of your shorts, replacing your hand with his.
“Look at how wet that pussy is.” Biting his lip as he rubbed his fingers against your clit skillfully.
“Fuck, Angel, you always make me feel so good, baby.” Your head fell to the side as you pulled your pillow against your mouth, muffling your moans.
“Shh, gotta keep quiet, baby girl.” He started working at his belt, pulling his jeans down, his cock springing forth, your hand coming to grip him.
“Spit on it, nasty girl.” He ordered you as his fingers dipped into your wet cunt. Sitting up, you spit on the tip, your hand smearing it over his cock, up and down, round and round you worked at his shaft.
Looking down at you with lust-blown pupils, Angel pulled his fingers from within you, sticking them in your mouth, making you taste yourself. “You like the way you taste, Querida?” He groaned as you licked at his fingers, sucking your nectar off of them.
“Mm, fuck me, Angel. I wanna taste myself on your cock when you’re done with me.” You moaned as he moved on top of you, kissing his way up your stomach and breasts, flicking his tongue across your nipple as his fingers came back to your pussy.
“Fuck, been waiting all night for this.” Angel trailed kisses down your neck and to your breasts, his fingers still pumping in and out of you.
“What’d you tell—oh fuuck.” Your head rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair, as his tongue traveled down your body. Sitting up he hooked his fingers in your panties and pulled them down your thighs. Settling between your legs, he looked up devilishly.
“Look at how pretty this pussy is, girl. Fuuck, I’m gonna devour you.” His tongue dragged slowly through your slit, your thighs quaking slightly, stomach knotting as you watched him do exactly what he said he was gonna do. His big hands gripping your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest, his tongue lashings never seizing.
“Shit that feels so goo—” your words catch in your throat as he dips his tongue in your pussy, a groan falling from him as he tastes even more of you on his tongue, driving him wild. His cock throbbing, watching you through hooded eyes writhing beneath him. Pulling you closer to his mouth, his tongue worked at your clit, loving the little whine you would let out, when he’d occasionally switch from flicking and sucking your clit greedily, shoving his tongue in your twitching pussy, then flattening it to lick you torturously slow up your slit.
Sitting up Angel wrapped his large hand around his very large cock, stroking it as he looked down at you. He couldn’t help the groan he let out as his other hand came to your breast, squeezing, then feathering his thumb over your peaked nipple. “You gonna let me hit it, Querida, hm?” He asked as he took his hand from your breast to cup your cheek, all while he continued jerking himself off.
“Yes, please, Angel,” your pleas were breathless and desperate. Angel hooked your thigh around his hip, circling the tip of his cock against your slick folds, he pushed into you, and the feel of him sliding into you sent your body into hysterics. His thick cock had your pussy gripping him like a trap, a wet—
“Fuuuck, you're so tight, Querida.” Angel groaned out through gritted teeth, as he fucked up into your sopping cunt. His hips moved in circles, pulling his now slick cock from your cunt, almost completely before railing into you, fervently. Sitting back, Angel placed the palm of one hand on the bed next to you for stability, then his other hand came to your throat, choking you just enough for you to see stars, before letting go and placing it on the other side of you. All the while, ramming into you, stretching your pussy, but not enough to fit like anything less than a tight, silk trap.
Your head fell to the side, as your body was pounded into your mattress, your eyes falling to the shadows dancing across the walls, telling a story as they moved. Angel’s shadow made his body look even larger than he was, as he pounded into you. Your small frame being broken, the shadows telling of the fall of your walls, and the absolute destruction of your body.
Before you knew it, ecstasy was washing through you, sparks igniting into flames across your nerve endings, one last deep thrust, his balls smacking against you. A guttural cry snuffed out by his hand coming over your mouth. “Shhh, can’t let anyone know I’m railing Samcros princess.” His hips moved with sheer force, at their own will, sloppy thrusts as his head dropped to your neck, cum filling you as he breathed heavily on top of you, his body spent, kisses feather soft, fingers coming to intertwine with yours before kissing you deeply.
“Happy anniversary, Princessa.” He grinned down at you, making you feel like you did five years ago when he had you for the first time.
“I love you, Angel Reyes.” You pulled him to you, kissing him deeply. “Now, do that thing with your tongue again.”
Angel slid down your body placing kisses to different spots along the way, his mouth inches from its destination, pausing to look up, and meeting your eyes, he spoke teasingly. “Oh, you mean, this thing?”
__________________
148 notes · View notes
zaenight · 6 months
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●°●°CRAZY BUT SHE'S MINE°●°●
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●°●Camila "Jackie" vincent●°●
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●°●Iliana "losa" Reyes●°●
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●°●Esmae "Marisol" Reyes●°●
●°●NOW COMPLETED●°●
CAMILA "JACKIE" VINCENT X EZEKIEL "EZ" REYES
°●°●°THE REYES FAMILIA°●°●°
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the-hinky-panda · 3 months
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The Medic Series: Part I
Title: The Medic Series
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Johnny Coco Cruz x OFC (Morgan "Stitches" Fox)
Summary: Morgan Fox is a nurse who is looking for a fresh start. She leaves La Jolla the night before her wedding for a fresh start in Santo Padre.
Author's Note: This series takes place in the same universe as @bullet-prooflove's Community Series.
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Everyone had warned her about taking the job at the Santo Padre Clinic. 
Morgan Fox had graduated at the top of her nursing class. She went through her Emergency Room training in East LA at one of the busiest trauma centers in the state of California. She could treat a gunshot wound blindfolded, find and administer narcan in under five seconds, and she’s enough of a scrapper to hold her own with violent junkies. 
She liked working in LA. She felt like she was actually making a difference when she sat with a prostitute who had a botched abortion and held her hand until the tears stopped. When she was the only nurse that would buy and stash electric blankets for addicts that were going through detox and wracked with chills. When a gang member was killed, she would sit with their family members and assure mothers that there was nothing more they could have done for their children. 
Her father, the CFO for Wells Fargo West Coast branches, had a heart attack and her mother needed help with his recovery so she returned to La Jolla. Unfortunately, survival was not in the cards for her father and a month later he died of a brain aneurysm. Her sister was already married to a megachurch pastor so it was just Morgan and her mother alone in the seaside mansion. The work in the La Jolla hospital was less than satisfying. Women recovering from plastic surgery and malnutrition from starving themselves to fit into expensive gowns for charity events didn’t bring much satisfaction. 
The only thing that kept her in La Jolla was the arrival of a new heart surgeon. He had been doing his fellowship with the cardiac surgeon that operated on her father. Shortly after her father’s passing, Dr. Jasper Wilcox was placed as the on-call heart surgeon and was spending his breaks down by the ER nurse’s station where Morgan worked. He would bring her terrible cups of coffee to hold her over until he could take her out to a five star restaurant. He came from old money and was not opposed to spending it. Morgan’s mother loved him so after six months of dating, a Christmas wedding was being planned. 
Then her world fell apart. She caught Jasper with another nurse in the locker room showers. That was when the rumor mill finally reached her, that Jasper had banged just about every nurse in the hospital. When she went to her mother with the revelation, her mother told her to look the other way. And if that didn’t work, look at his bank account and investment portfolio. But Morgan started looking elsewhere: another LA, another place in need of compassion. That was how she ended up getting the job offer at Santo Padre Clinic. 
It was Christmas Eve when she called the Santo Padre Clinic to let them know she was accepting the nurse position. She waited until her bachelorette party was over before packing her car with clothes and a couple boxes of belongings, and leaving under the cover of night. She left a note for her mother and Jasper, short, sweet and to the point about wanting something more than money and a sham of a marriage. 
She arrives in the bordertown Christmas morning, feeling very much like the refugee family of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus: scared and alone. However, there is room at the town motel and Morgan spends her Christmas day looking for an apartment online and ignoring the texts and calls that are blowing up her phone. She drinks a bottle of expensive champagne and watching re-runs of “The Christmas Story” on the TV. By six am the next morning, she’s dressed in her scrubs and sitting on the cracked concrete steps of the clinic. At 6:30, another woman arrives in faded scrubs, graying hair, and a tired face. 
“Are you Fox?” 
Morgan jumps to her feet. “Yes, ma’am.” 
She scoffs and unlocks the door. “You can drop the ma’am. We don’t stand on much ceremony here. I’m Fernanda. Most people call me Nan.” 
Morgan follows her into the building and helps turn on lights. Nan gives her the tour of the workplace. It’s small, outdated, and falling apart. Their supplies are minimal, the equipment barely functioning. Nan watches her with a skeptical eye. 
“So what do you think, Nurse Barbie?” 
“I think it’s perfect.” 
Nan laughs shortly. “I give you two weeks before you’re back in La Jolla.” 
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withmyteeth · 1 year
Text
Night Calling: Phase 1
Mayans MC x SOA
CHAPTER LIST
Summary: You've been in Santo Padre for three months now, feeling confident enough in your routine to run a quick errand, meeting some interesting people along the way.
Warnings: Language, sexual connotations, 18+ only
Words: 2.1k
Author's note: Thank you to @spaghettificationandpretzels and @rebelwrites for getting me through this fic! Couldn't have done it without you!
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Gif by the stunning @lovebarefootblonde
You look around the room, checking the supplies at each table, making sure everything is in place for class tonight.  As your eyes comb over the last table, you give yourself a pat on the back.  Three months ago you would have been in a panic, still scrambling around, trying to get ready, but now you have managed to get a routine in place, being efficient enough to have time to run an errand before your students start arriving.
The “Be Back Soon” sign bangs on the glass door when it swings closed behind you.  Throwing your leg over the seat of your bike, you appreciate the little canopy on your storefront even more when you are able to sit down on the vinyl without it searing off a couple layers of skin.  It’s true that having a bicycle as a vehicle of choice in the desert wasn’t necessarily the best plan you’d had, but usually you leave home before the heat of the day really sets in and don’t make it back until the evening cools down.  It's only days like today when you want to make the errant run that you curse your hatred of the gym as the sweat trickles down your back.  You’d stepped foot in a gym one time and swore you’d never go back, so bicycling is your trade off.
You glance down at your watch, biting your lip.  The scrap yard is quite a bit outside of town and you are cutting it close to get back in time for class, unless someone is able to give you a ride back.  Deciding maybe you were too cocky about your new efficiency skills, you pump your legs a little harder, pushing the bicycle faster down the streets, ignoring the sweat as it now freely runs down your back.
By the time you make it through the gates of the yard, you are huffing for breath, your legs a little shaky from the exertion, but you managed to shave almost ten minutes off your usual leisurely ride.  The front door of the clubhouse opens while you’re using the bottom of your shirt to wipe the sweat from your face.
A low wolf whistle brings a smile to your lips as you drop the shirt and see Bishop standing on the porch, a dimple-accentuating smirk on his face.  “My, my.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”
You can’t help but smile at him.  Bishop has a tendency to flirt with anything with tits, so you’ve never taken anything he’s said too seriously.  “As if you don’t already know.”
He jogs down the steps, grinning even harder, until he’s close enough to put a hand on your waist and press a kiss to your cheek.  “Shit, sweetheart, all you have to do is ask.” 
You laugh, pushing at his chest.  “What are you going to do one of these days if I walk in here and throw myself at you?”
“Catch with both hands,” he says with a wink.  He pulls out a cigarette, quickly lighting it as you roll your eyes at him.  “Remember where it’s at?”
“Unless you’ve done some rearranging since I was here last, I know where it’s at.”  In fact, you remember everything from the last time you were here.
That’s what got you into this mess.
“Come on, then,” he says, holding a hand out for you to lead the way.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy flirting with Bishop.  He’s a smooth talker and easy on the eyes, but there’s far too much on the line for you to go any further than just some flirtatious banter.  And he’s essentially your babysitter.
“There it is,” you say, rounding the corner of scrap and pointing at the mangled piece of metal that was maybe some type of shelf or plant holder back in its prime.
Bishop cocks an eyebrow.  “That thing?”
You nod, stepping around it again to look at it from the other side.  “It’s just what I need to finish my latest piece.”
Bishop looks between you and the hunk of scrap before dropping his cigarette and snubbing it out with the toe of his boot.  “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
You reach for it, but he steps forward.  “I got it.”
Your lips quirk into a smirk as you watch him grunt a lift up the cast iron piece.  “My big, strong man.”
“I don’t know why you have to pick out the heaviest pieces we have back here,” he grunts, readjusting his grip.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”  He looks like he’s got it, but it’s quite the walk back out front.
He furrows his brow at you.  “Just lead the way.”
Holding your hands up, you take a few steps quickly to walk in front of Bishop.  You know he’s struggling more than he’d like to admit carrying the heavy piece, so you at least provide him the decency of doing it in private.  Plus, you know his eyes are glued to your ass.
You barely make it back to the office and he drops the piece in the dirt.  He’s got sweat dripping down his face as he pulls the black handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe it away.  “There ain’t no way you are getting that back on your bike.” 
You bite your lip.  “Well, I was hoping….”
“Oh,” Bishop laughs, pushing off the wall and tucking the sweat rag back in his pocket.  “You make me do all the heavy lifting and you want me to give you a ride back into town?”
Before you can turn on the puppy dog eyes, a vehicle pulls into the lot that has you both turning your heads.  The sleek, black SUV pulls to a stop a few feet in front of you, causing you to nervously shoot your eyes over to Bishop.  “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he says, already lighting another cigarette.
Alvarez steps out of the passenger side, buttoning his jacket as he approaches you.  “Primo, Shawn.”
Your lips still quirk at the name you’d come up with three months ago.
“Marcus, I’d give you a hug, but I don’t want to get any sweat on your fancy suit.”
He smiles, pulling you in for a quick hug anyway.  “It’ll wash.”  Being the gentleman he is, he doesn’t even wipe his hands on his pants after touching you.
“Can this wait?  I was going to run our friend here back into town.”  
“Nestor can do it,” Alvarez says, nodding his head towards the SUV.  “You and I have some business to discuss.”
“I can take my bike, really, it’s no big deal,” you say, backing away from the men.
“No trouble,” Alvarez says.  “He’s going right past your studio.”
“What about my bike and my –,” you gesture helplessly to the hunk of metal that Bishop had carried up for you, trying to come up with an acceptable reason to decline the offer.
“I’ll run it by later.”
Alvarez steps back and opens the door of the shiny black SUV of the Galindo cartel and you take a quick step back like he just revealed rows of glistening teeth.
You try to give Alvarez a sincere smile when you thank him and climb in the vehicle.  Even with having held the door open, the air conditioning is keeping up, the black seats cool and smooth as you slide in.  “Drop her off at the art studio,” he tells the man with the yellow sunglasses as you work on buckling your seatbelt with trembling hands.
The man doesn’t answer him, you have your eyes glued forward but you assume he nods, because Alvarez swings the door shut before the vehicle shifts into gear and glides out of yard.  As much as you want to look over at him, you keep your eyes fixed on the dashboard as the luxury vehicle bumps along the dirt.  
The cool air smells of nothing, not even an air freshener as you try to focus on keeping your heart rate even as goosebumps pimple across your arms.  When the vehicle reaches the pavement, you breathe a sigh of relief only to have your blood run cold when a voice comes from the back seat.
“Are you enjoying your time in Santo Padre?”  You’d been so intent on guarding your reaction to being in the SUV that you didn’t even realize that Miguel Galindo was in the back seat.
Your jaw works for a moment, with no words coming out until you finally manage a reply.  “It’s a little hot for me, but the people are nice,” you answer honestly, proud when there is no waiver in your voice.  Cartel leaders can smell fear like sharks can smell blood.  Literally.
“Choosing to ride a bicycle around town does not seem like the best form of transportation if one does not care for the desert heat.”
You glance over your shoulder, giving him a smile.  “Well, I hate jogging.  Gotta stay in shape somehow.”  The windows of the Maybach are tinted what you are sure is beyond the legal limit but Miguel is still wearing his sunglasses, so you can’t see his eyes, but his lips quirk at your statement.  “Sorry to hijack your day like this.”
“Nonsense,” he says, with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “We will be passing the studio on the way to our next appointment.”
You give him a nod, turning back to face out the front window again, careful to keep your eyes off the man in the front seat.  You’d been warned about Miguel’s vicious mercenary when you’d arrived in Santo Padre.  He is the guard dog for the cartel, carrying out Miguel’s darkest wishes on his enemies without hesitation.  
He is not a person that you wanted to be on his bad side.
The rest of the trip is made in silence, with the exception of the occasional vibration of Miguel’s phone.  At this point, the trip feels twice as long as if you’d taken it on your bike.  Finally, you round a corner and the studio is in sight.  You have to hold yourself back from jumping out the door until the SUV comes to a smooth stop.
“Thanks again for the ride, sir,” you say, remembering your manners at the last moment as you clamber out of the air conditioned car back into the Santo Padre heat, thankful to be hit with the sounds and smells of the street.  You don’t bother looking back as the men pull away, instead busying yourself with opening the door and flipping the sign back to open.  You step into the empty studio before falling against the first table and putting your head in your shaky hands.
Since you’d come to Santo Padro, you’d tried to avoid Miguel Galindo as much as possible, which should have been easier said than done. It's not like you travel in the same circles, but they seem to overlap more frequently than you would have preferred.  Other than the tales that follow the cartel, you have no real reason to fear him as much as you do, but when someone with Miguel’s reputation holds your life and safety in the palm of his hand, it doesn’t exactly lead to peaceful sleeping.
You shake out your hands, hoping that they are steady by the time class starts so you don’t make a fool of yourself.  It’s not like you had a reputation in the art world when you decided to open the studio, but you had some skills and needed to have a reason for your appearance in Santo Padre.  Originally, the studio was just a space for you to create and sell your own pieces, but when people kept wandering in and trying to buy supplies and ask advice, you’d eventually caved, hopping on the infamous paint and sip bandwagon.  With not much to do in Santo Padre, the first class was packed with a wait list to fill two more classes.  What you thought might be a once a month special, turned into a every Friday or Saturday night thing.  
The class schedule suited you fine, it’s not like you had a blistering social life, and when the people came in, they never really paid attention to you, too busy getting drunk and having fun with their friends.  You were quickly becoming one of those anonymous community staples where people maybe recognized you as one of them but didn’t really know anything about you.
Which worked perfectly for you.  The more loyal the residents are to you, the less likely they are to turn you in if someone comes looking for you.  A bonus of living in a border town.
Plus no one suspects you’re a werewolf.
PHASE 2
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Christmas Drabble Advent Day 2 - Angel on top of the tree
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This is Day 2 of my Christmas Drabble Advent. The full masterlist can be found here > Advent Masterlist
Pairing - Angel Reyes x reader
Summary - Angel tries to do some christmas decorating, but unsurpisingly he gets himself into a tangle!
Warnings - No warnings, just fluff!
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“Stop, this shit’s serious!”
When Angel said he wanted to put lights on the tree in the backyard, like all the photos you ‘aww’ at, you knew there’d be a problem. And wouldn’t you know it, you were right!
“Babe, you need to jump down.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that? I’m high up as…fuckin mount Everest or something! Get the ladder!”
You side eyed the garage and then looked back to Angel with a grin.
He knew what you were thinking.
“Don’t leave me here!”
“I think you suit being the Angel on the top of the tree!”
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darqchilddaydreamz · 5 months
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Heading Out
A Bishop Losa fic
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Bishop Losa x Female OC one shot
18+ ONLY BLOG * MINORS GO AWAY!!
2k words
Reblog! Comment! Talk to me like it sends me a thrill...cuz it does ;)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Here we go.....
"Querida."
The endearment flew from his smiling lips before he could stop it. Bishop knew something was amiss the moment he opened his door. She wouldn't be there unless there was…something. He should have been more surprised but he had stood in their doorway unannounced a thousand times - hers and Marco's. Marco. His friend-become-brother, a relationship that had been forged under the cut, blood, exhaust and vows of secrecy. Somehow his marrying her only strengthened it, as if she was this thing that they now had the privilege of protecting together. Seeing her was like seeing him. Hugging her was like slapping his arms around him again - selfishly Bishop squeezed tighter and held on a little longer.
He took in a deep breath and smiled wide, ignoring the unease humming around the edges of his joy. "It's good to see you, Rabbit."
She grinned at hearing the name he and Marco had coined for her. Bishop looked her over. She was the same, beautiful and strong…but different in ways only he would notice. Her smile was not so bright and easy, her eyes not so full of life, her posture not so open. To those who knew, she looked like a vibrant survivor of a senseless tragedy but he knew she carried something else. Stepping back, he forced himself to stop staring at her and dropped his eyes to the cargo she carried. Through the thin plastic bags, he could see two six-packs of beer and cartons of food that were starting to emit a smell that had his stomach perked up.
With a softer smile, he nodded toward them, "Looks like a good haul."
She held up the bag holding two six packs of beer, "I'd never come empty-handed."
"Am I gonna need it?"
The question was only partially in jest. Bishop registered her half smile and shrug as a fair answer…for now. Taking the heavier bag from her hand, he stood back to let her in. At his tiny table, she unpacked the food as if she had done it a million times before. Neither one of them bothered with the kind of chit-chat that old friends engaged in, they were family. Bishop noted how tight her shoulders were drawn up and wanted to place his hands on them. Relax. You're here now.
They ate in silence. She only pecked at her food, drinking more than he remembered her being able to do. People change, he reminded himself. This just wasn't the kind of change he wanted to see in her. It only took one of the six packs meeting her empty belly to get her to start talking. The verbal fluff lasted for a few minutes before she said what had been gnawing at her, what landed her on his doorstep.
"I ran into Victor."
Bishop's mouthful stuck in his throat. Victor Mantero. Marco's killer and now VP of Los Santos.
It had been years since his name was spoken between the two of them. In Bishop's mind, he saw flashes of that last night - remembering her skin being cold as he was grabbing and shaking her, dragging her back to his car. Her rage at him, kicking and fighting to try to get out. Her tortured screams of disbelief watching Victor's bike pull away. Her face contorted, spewing accusations of Bishop's disloyalty to Marco. Her hands finally dropping the gun. He still felt the guilt from knowing her pain could have been alleviated for at least a short amount of time. But at what cost? It would have been her life.
Bishop reached for his beer to get the now tasteless lump to go the rest of the way down. His dark eyes were trained on her but she wouldn't look at him. "You talked?"
The smile that twitched her lips was so minute if he hadn't been staring directly at her when he asked the question, he would have missed it. "He tried to."
Bishop struggled to keep his breathing even. If he did the wrong thing or said the wrong thing, she'd clam up and he needed to know. She lifted her head again, allowing him access to the secrets in her eyes.
"Tonight I…I gotta head out to Vicky's."
Bishop stared at her, absorbing what she had brought to his home, to his table. What she had done that would make her say those words.
If it gets any worse you could always head out to Vicky's. It had been a running joke between the three of them …sort of. In truth, it was a valid exit strategy. If things got bad, go to Vicky's and access the tunnels to get across the border. Disappear. She was going to disappear.
His hand was gripping her arm before he knew he was moving. "Victor?"
Her smile was the saddest thing he had ever seen. He was unprepared for the deep sorrow he saw in her eyes. She'd had made her choice. No longer interested in his plate, he stood up and paced a few steps away, patting his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. Finding it, he kept his back turned to her, wanting a moment to gain control of himself before facing her again. Taking a long drag or two, he turned back around to see that she had abandoned her food, too, and moved to the couch.
"Can I get a little of that?" she asked.
Bishop snorted out a chuckle at her, "Sure you don't need something stronger?"
She shook her head no. Bishop grudgingly handed her his cigarette before sitting down beside her. She drew on it slowly with her eyes closed, letting the smoke escape her mouth on its own in white floating curls before blowing it away. Handing it back, her body held none of the tension she came in with. That's what a confession will do for a person.
Bishop looked down at the lip gloss stain she left on it before he took another pull, blowing out the smoke forcefully. "Vicky's?"
She swiveled her body toward his, pulling her leg up. "B…you-," she started.
Reaching over, she rubbed her thumb gently over the ridges his frown made on his forehead. Instantly, he relaxed. And they stayed that way, her rubbing away his frown with her thumb and him allowing it out of his own selfish enjoyment. "You've always been my protector, haven't you?" It wasn't a question. "You've been such a good friend to me."
With that, his frown was back.
Leaning in more, she acknowledged her incorrect statement tracing her thumb over the hairs below his bottom lip, "More than a friend."
His voice was low but the anger was there for the risk she took, "You should have come to me." Her hand dropped into her lap and he immediately took it in his. "Why didn't you tell me you were...".
Squeezing his hand to quiet him, she straightened her shoulders, "I couldn't ask you, B." She flitted her fingers over his patch, the one he got in her absence. "El Presidente. You have men to protect from personal crap like this. Your club didn't need my burden. This was my problem-."
"Our problem!" he snapped. A silent apology flashed across his face. Lowering his voice he spoke low and tight. "He was my friend. Always more than a brother to me, you know that."
"How could I forget?" She paused to consider her words carefully, not wanting to upset him any further. She needed the relationship she still had with him so much she could never express it. "And because of that, your men would have followed you right into a decade-old revenge if you had even thought of wanting them to."
Bishop smashed out his forgotten cigarette and took her other hand. His eyes searched hers while she put words to the separation from justice he felt. "This was a one-on-one thing. I didn't need…we didn't need for it to become a problem between your club and his crew. You know what kind of mess it would have turned into."
Bishop averted his eyes. His mind couldn't reconcile her standing in front of Victor alone. Alone.
"Oh, Obispo," she smiled so softly, cupping his face. "I know you see."
And he did. But now that Marco's killer was dead, he was losing her, too. With fingers interlaced, they sat in the quiet of lost time and one rash decision.
Wait, he thought, she never said she killed him. His eyes flickered with hope when he began to ask, "Is he-?"
"Yes."
She had a certain peace on her face as she fingered the necklace she wore. A silver bullet with Marco's name and symbol etched into it. "I put one in his mouth and sewed his lips shut."
"Jesus!" Bishop pushed her hair back, gripping the sides of her head more roughly than he intended but he needed to see her whole face, what doing that had done to her soul.
Her eyes were clear. There was no residue there, no new madness. She placed her hands on his, "Everyone who matters will know. It was the only way."
Relieved by what he saw, or didn't see there, he released her. "He would be proud of you," he murmured, clearing his throat.
"Are you?"
Bishop dropped his head, shaking it slowly before he raised his eyes again. "Dios, did he even know what he had in you?"
Her eyes shimmered with tears. She didn't know what to do with the lightness she felt. The years of anger for her husband's murder and the man who slandered his name to justify it were gone. Her burning need finally satisfied made everything she was feeling now magnify times ten.
Sensing it, Bishop held the back of her head tenderly, as if cradling a child's and brought her to him for a kiss. A soft meeting of lips that at first connection stunned them both. There was no movement or exploration yet it exposed the feelings that he had never let surface for his brother's old lady. The ones he didn't even acknowledge until after he passed and their shared grief kept them together. When he opened his eyes, he was stunned again by every word she had left unsaid mirroring back in hers.
Daring to test what he could see there, he breathed out an invitation. "Stay."
Her only response was to return her lips to his, pressing in. The chaste kiss turned fevered quickly. Hands that never dared to touch were fumbling to tear off clothes, demanding that nothing be between them anymore. There was no hesitation when she crawled up onto his lap and took what he had always wanted to give. The history that brought them back together brought a potent strength to the arms she held him with and a near violence to his movements beneath her. There on his couch, they no longer existed separately. They were two fused as one by the war they had endured together and now they had come for their reward. His panting heated her chest and hers his ear then giving in to it washing over her, she let her head fall back. In their union, free of guilt or consequence, she found elevated joy. She filled him with delight when with a startled laugh she came and she imprinted herself on his soul when she cried through coming again. Bishop ignored his own tears being wiped away, losing himself in her body’s demand for more, while he clung to her during his last moments before finally releasing his long-held unconsummated love inside of her. 
"Stay."
0.o.0.o.0
That morning, Bishop sat on his bike on the side of the dirt road, watching her familiar swinging ponytail disappear over the hill toward Vicky's. Lighting a cigarette, he sat watching the sunrise until the morning sky was fully lit and he couldn't see her anymore - until his phone sounded a notification of a text.
*Safe
That was all Vicky sent to confirm her arrival. Tossing the nearly finished cigarette out near the middle of the road where so many of his other butts had accumulated, he deleted the message and tucked his phone away. It took two tries to get the engine to turn over because his hands and his brain were disconnected. Slapping his hand down on the grip, he looked at the bullet now dangling from his wrist.
Rest easy, Marco…he thought and a smile curved his lips before he headed out, back to Santo Padre.
-fin-
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flightlessangelwings · 5 months
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Ktober 2023 Day 21- Piercings
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Angel Reyes x fem!reader
Word count- 1.6k
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), exes to lovers, nipple play, cumming from nipple stimulation, multiple orgasms, fluff, reader has pierced nipples, no use of y/n
Notes- Angel is so much fun to write for! And even if the ending of Mayans was disappointing I still really miss him! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!
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~
It had been so long that you almost forgot what it felt like. The wind in your face, the roar of the motorcycle, the strong torso of Angel Reyes anchoring you as you wrapped your arms around him. There was a time when Angel took you for a ride every weekend, and you went to that special place and ravaged each other for hours before you laid under the stars. But, life got in the way, and you two were separated for some time.
But, now you were back together. And while things were different, some things stayed the same. And you smirked to yourself as you thought about some of the surprises you had in store for him.
“We’re here, baby,” Angel slowed the bike to a stop at the bridge.
You exhaled contently, “Just like old times,” you took his hand and let him lead you over to your spot.
Angel stopped and turned around, looking you up and down as if it were his first time seeing you, “Baby,” he cupped your face, “You look even hotter than last time I saw you.”
A soft laugh escaped your lips as you leaned into his touch, “So do you, Angel.”
Wasting no time, Angel pulled you in close and pressed his lips against yours. You moaned into you as you parted your lips and invited him in, tasting him for the first time in a long time. He gripped into your hips to yank you against him, as if he couldn’t get your close enough. The smell of his kutte mixed with his cologne was intoxicating, and it sent a pulse right to your core.
“Angel,” you murmured as he kissed his way down your neck, “I missed you.”
He only groaned as he bucked his hips against you, letting you feel how hard he was already. It was all the answer you needed. Angel bit down on the sensitive spot on your neck, licking a sucking before he kissed his way back up and took your lips once more.
Carefully, the two of you back up against the steel railing without breaking away. Angel glanced over a few times to make sure you wouldn’t step in the wrong place, and you trusted him enough to not need to look for yourself. You gasped when your back hit the cold rail, but Angel only deepened the kiss more as your mouth dropped open.
He groaned as he helped you up onto the rail, finding that perfect spot that had a long pole for you to lean against. It was an old bridge, but it was sturdy, and the spot Angel liked to place you had a wider base so you could be comfortable while he stood between your parted legs.
“Shit baby,” he murmured as his hands dipped under your shirt.
You let go of his temporarily so he could lift your shirt up over your head before you clawed at his own shirt, a silent plea for him to take it off. Angel broke away to shrug it off, and you couldn't help the gasp you let out at seeing his bare chest again. You know you were gawking at him as your eyes trailed across all his tattoos and his defined pecs, but at the same time, you couldn’t care less.
“Like what you see, querida?” Angel asked with a cocky smirk.
“Fuck yeah,” you breathed, too in awe to think of a more witty comeback.
You extended your arms for him and he gladly obliged. The two of you crashed your lips together, this time in a more heated and desperate kiss. Hand roamed all over the other, feeling and caressing every dip and curve in the other’s figure. Angel groaned as he reached the back of your bra and tried to unclasp it, but he got quickly frustrated and growled into you.
“Let me,” you giggled softly as you reached back and pinched your bra with one hand and let it fall into your lap.
This time, it was Angel’s turn to gawk. “Are those…” he cleared his throat as his eyes landed right on your breasts, “Are those new?” His cock involuntarily twitched in his pants.
“Like what you see?” you asked with a teasing grin as you shimmied your shoulders, letting your breasts swing as you did so.
What Angel hadn’t seen before was the new-ish piercings you had: both nipples. The metal from the jewelry twinkled in the setting sun, and Angel couldn’t rip his eyes away from them. He had always loved and worshiped your breasts, but this only made you even hotter.
“Oh fuck yeah,” Angel groaned as he grabbed onto your waist and dove into your breasts.
You buried your hands in his hair as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, licking and flicking at the jewelry. Your mouth dropped open to let the moans flow freely as he played with your piercing with his tongue. The sensations were more intensified due to the piercing, and it sent jolt and jolt of pleasure right to your pussy.
“Fuck! Angel!” you cried out as your mind swam in pleasure.
No one made you feel the way Angel did, and having the nipple piercings only added to it. You felt as if you could cum just from his tongue on your breast alone. But, just as you felt a tingle up your spine, he pulled away and looked at you with a glazed over expression.
“Shit baby you’re so fucking hot,” he breathed before he dipped back down and attacked your other breast.
One hand stayed in his hair while the other moved to his shoulder, gripping him hard and digging your nails into his skin. Angel didn’t care though, and it actually spurred him on more. He growled into your breast as he took as much of you into his mouth as he could, flicking and sucking at your nipple while he did so. His one hand kneaded your other breast, gently pinching your nipple piercing, while the other kept a firm grip on your hip to keep you in place.
Your cries echoed through the woods, but you didn’t care. Someone could walk in on you right now and you would tell Angel to keep going. His tongue felt so good on your breasts and his large hands kept you grounded and safe. You dropped your head back as your skin warmed while his tongue ran over your piercing over and over again.
That familiar feeling started to build from deep within you. You rocked your hips against Angel as much as you could, desperate for some friction against your pussy. He got the message right away, and while his lip still stayed on your breast, Angel bucked his clothed cock against your cunt, letting out a groan as he did so.
“Fuck… Angel…” you moaned, “I think I’m gonna cum…”
Angel stopped and broke away, a trail of spit connecting your bodies. He stared at you for a moment in awe, as if he couldn’t believe you were real. “Do it, baby,” his tone was low and dripped with lust, “Fucking cum just from be sucking your fucking gorgeous tits.”
With that, he dove back in, with time with more determination to make you cum. He rocked his hips against yours as he licked and sucked at your nipple, the jewelry rolling in between his lips. His hand squeezed your other breast, and he pinched your nipple a few times, savoring the screams you let out.
“Oh fuck… Angel… Fuck!” your legs trembled on either side of his body as you felt your climax quickly build. Your body felt hot as the sensations become almost overwhelming but in the best way possible. And with just a few more swipes of his tongue and thrusts of his hips, you came hard, “Angel!” you screamed his name as tears fell from your eyes.
Angel held onto you while he worked you through your orgasm. His cock screamed in agony, desperate for his own release, but he was too consumed with you to care. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted to lick and kiss and suck everywhere you’d let him. He would make you cum a hundred times before he even thought about himself.
When you let out a whimper and tugged at his hair, Angel finally released your breast. He pulled back and the two of you just stared at each other for several mong moments. Neither of you said anything, you just breathed heavily.
Your gaze dropped down to Angel’s cock for a moment before you looked back up at him. Without a word, you reached for his zipper as you licked your lips involuntarily.
“Wait, baby,” he grabbed your wrist. When you gave him a questioning look, he murmured your name, “We have all night baby,” he purred as he cupped your face, “First, I want fuckin’ do that again.”
The moan you let out was the most sinful sound you had ever made in your life. And Angel spent the entire night raviging and worshiping your body until the sun rose. He couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth off your nipple piercings, and it wasn’t until you came several times that he finally let you ride him until he came hard deep inside you.
Collapsing down onto the ground in exhaustion, the two of you panted hard. Sweat lined both your bodies, despite losing the warmth from the sun. Angel pulled you in close, wrapping his hard around you and holding you tight.
“That was a nice surprise, baby,” he murmured, “So fucking hot.”
You laughed softly, “You weren’t so bad yourself, Angel.” you teased, hiding how much you truly cared for him.
His hands roamed lazily across your body until they reached your breasts once more. He cupped them, rolling your piercing in his fingers, pulling a soft whimper from you.
“I can’t get enough of these, baby.”
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ravennaortiz · 6 months
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❄️Christmas series 💬 Request 💋Smut 💜Fluff 🌵 Angst
Christmas Sweater ❄️💜
Tree Decorating ❄️💜
Gingerbread House ❄️💋
Elf ❄️ 💜🌵
Elf In Templo 💜🌵
Untitled 1 💬💋
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Sinfully Delicious - An EZ Reyes/Reader Smut Short.
I was feeling a certain way about EZ all day, so now you can, too! Especially since people say there isn't enough in the way of stories about him out there, yet he remains one of my least reacted with smut subjects?! Anyway, hot filth below, so go enjoy!
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Words - 836
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
EZ Reyes. He’s the only man who has ever had such a profound effect upon you, that just looking at him ignites your arousal. You can feel your cunt fluttering with the longing for him, to feel him, your skin craving the heat of his against it.
When you find yourself falling into fantasies, your body responds, just the very thought of him inside you making you wet, your inner walls aching, needing to feel his cock pushing into you deep.  
When you finally get him, you almost don’t know how to react, though. With your fantasy right there before you, kisses of scorching heat landing upon your mouth and his hand gliding up your bare leg, your brain goes to static completely.  
“Fuck,” he grunts, reaching the drenched fabric of your underwear. “You’re absolutely soaking.” His words are delivered on a hungry grunt, gently biting your lower lip with a groan, his fingertips fighting past the sodden garment to stroke your folds. “God, that feels so good and It’s only my fingers."
His touch glides over your clit, and you buck into his hand, gasping, EZ smiling against your lips. “That feel nice, beautiful? Yeah, is that how you want me to touch you, play with this pretty little clit until you come hard for me, hmm? Or do you need something inside of you?” His words have you mindless, only capable of using sounds, and he knows it, knows he’s winding you tightly. “Maybe I should give you both, huh?”  
Pushing you back against the counter he has you sitting upon, he pulls off your undies, lowering his head to your heat, his fingers pushing inside you as his tongue begins to lay licks over your aching bud, his breaths hot and sharp against you. “God, you taste amazing. So fucking sweet.”  
It burns golden through you, each lick firming, his fingers rooting deep as your cunt streams over them, his lips wrapping to suck upon you.  
“Oh, please don’t stop! Fuck, that feels so good!”  
He looks up at you, eyes gleaming. “Finally found your voice, huh? That’s good, cuz’ I’m all set to hear you wail pretty for me, beautiful.” When he sucks on you again, you do, your voice breaking on a cry, the lewd sounds of him feasting on your clit filling the air, peppered by his grunts. The squelch of his fingers pounding into your pussy overtakes the other noises, the erotic orchestra loudening, your nails dug into his thick shoulders as you mewl, your hips shaking violently.
He’s better than you ever could have dreamed of. 
“Fuck, I'm so fucking hard, baby. Let me give you my dick, right now. I gotta be in you,” he pants, the desire in his eyes meeting yours as you pull your dress and bra off, EZ shedding the rest of his clothes. A cock of impressive size bobs free of his jeans, the bunched fabric kicked from his ankles along with his white boxers.  
“Yeah,” you gasp, reaching for him, steering him to your streaming opening. “I need to have you in me just as badly.” He pushes, and with one fluid thrust, he’s filling you, your cry muted by his mouth, his hands grasping your thighs as you draw your knees up, that hot, veiny hardness inching into you deeper. His eyes fall down, your gaze following, watching at how the liquid silk of your cunt bathes his cock, glossing the dark skin, glinting over each ridge before it vanishes within you again.  
“Like how that big dick feels all up in you deep, querida? Fuck, you feel so good.” Once again, he has you rendered mindless, his mouth claiming yours in kisses gilded in honey and embers, his rhythm exquisite, giving you exactly what you need.
He drags your walls slow and hard, sparks scraping, the fill of him mind-melting as you clutch at his muscles, the chiselled bulk of him hotter than you could ever imagine.  
Adding speed, he meets your need with keen thrusts, filling you wholly, glimmers shooting through you as his hips rut you with force, mouth moving to kiss a constellation over your neck. He hits you at every angle and depth, so deep you feel as if galaxies are collapsing and igniting again within you, pleasure bursting over your nerves as you cry out ferally.  
“Come on, baby,” he pants, tongue swirling with yours, his nails digging into your flesh. “Let me feel this pretty little cunt come around me. Yeah, that’s it. Come all over my dick.”  
He fucks you in brutal frenzy, his trailer beginning to shake with the force of it, your nails clawing at his back as frost chills your blood, only for the flames of your undoing to melt it as your orgasm races through you. He twitches, teeth clamping onto your neck, spilling hot and deep within your fluttering walls, his groan all smoke and grit.  
How sinfully delicious it is, when fantasy lives up to reality.  
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obsessedasusual · 1 year
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Lonely No More - Seven
Bishop Losa x OC series
Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.
Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, alcohol
Note: - 2.4k - it’s here!! Hello to readers new and old….. dive in!
Also - I had a tag list for this series at one point, starting from scratch. Let me know if you’d like to be added!
Tags: @danzer8705 @delightfulheroshoeflap
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“Guess who I saw at the store today.” She threw at her older brother before she took a sip of her orange juice.
“Who?” Angel questioned from the kitchen as he dug around for something that could pass as lunch.
Amaila rolled her eyes, “I said ‘guess’, dumbass.”
Angel pulled his head out from the fridge to glare at his sister sitting on his couch, “Don’t give me that shit. Just tell me.”
She raised an eyebrow expectantly at her brother. While both stubborn, she could definitely out-wait him.
It was his turn to roll his eyes at the gesture knowing she wasn’t about to give it up, “Fine,” he sighed, shaking his head in thought, “Was it… I don’t fucking know - Mrs Sanchez from High School?”
“Mrs Sanchez? No?” Amalia stared dumbly at her brother, “Why the fuck was she the first person to come to your mind?’
Angel offered a shrug in response before turning back to the fridge.
“I saw Kevin.” she finally relented.
“Who?’ he mumbled, half distracted by his sandwich making.
“Kevin,” she repeated, “Kevin, our cousin Kevin?”
She watched her brother’s face transform from confused to understanding as he clicked to who she was talking about, “Didn’t know he was in town. Thought he was in the city?”
Amalia mumbled a quick, “Thanks,” as he placed a plate holding a cold meat sandwich in front of her, “I thought so too, guess he still is? Don’t know, didn’t actually talk to him.”
“You didn't talk to him? So that whole story was for what?” Angel spoke with his mouth full earning a glare from his sister.
“Shut up. I was just passing comment.”
“Well, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without this life changing information.”
Amalia looked at him as she chewed, “You’re a dick sometimes you know that?”
She was met with a middle finger and decided to finish her sandwich instead of dignifying her brother’s gesture with a response.
“How’s EZ? With the club I mean.” Ever the protective sister, Amalia had been worried about how her younger brother would fit in with the Mayans. Everytime she brought it up with the brother in question she was met with a small smile and a, “Everything’s good, A.”
Angel thought about his answer for a moment, “He’s doing okay I think. But I just - some of the shit we see man, sometimes I wonder if sponsoring him was the right thing to do you know?”
She nodded in understanding, “When he got out, he had nothing to go to, Angel. You’ve given him… something. And at the end of the day, Ezekiel’s an adult now. He’s gonna make his own choices no matter what we say.”
“Yeah, I know but… he was so young when he went inside. He was s’pose to be a fucking doctor, not following me into an MC.”
Pursing her lips at the statement she silently agreed with him. Ezekiel was always the one out of the trio that they were sure was going to do well. Angel had always done his own thing, Amalia had a college degree in communications but that wasn’t exactly a field that screamed ‘successful’. EZ was going down the medical route. Now that was impressive.
“Pop’s pissed at me for bringing him in too.” Angel continued.
Amalia sighed at that. The Reyes Patriarch made no effort to disguise his real emotions about anything. And it seemed clear as day that he wasn’t pleased with his youngest following his oldest’s footsteps, becoming more protective over him then ever.
“Pop is Pop,” she offered, “No matter what, EZ is always gonna be the apple of his eye. And that isn’t fair, but… at least we have each other at Christmas.”
That succeeded in getting a chuckle out of her brother. Amalia knew their father’s favouritism weighed on Angel.
“Yeah… lucky us.” he huffed good humouredly.
Feeling her phone buzz she moved her attention to the message on her screen, feeling her cheeks heat up as soon as she saw who it was from.
Is it safe to assume you have no plans tomorrow and can join a lonely man for dinner?
She and Bishop had exchanged numbers two nights ago when she had returned home from work and found a note in her mailbox from said President.
Fixed your gate, the note had read, here if you ever need a handyman.
The note had been signed ‘Bishop’ along with a phone number. After texting him her gratitude, the two had been periodically texting.
“What’re you smiling at?” her brother questioned, eyeing her suspiciously.
Amalia snapped her gaze from her phone to Angel, caught like a deer in headlights, “Nothing.”
“You texting a guy?”
She rolled her eyes, “Leave it, Angel.”
“That’s not a ‘no’.” again, speaking with his mouth full.
“It’s a ‘mind your own business’.”
He rolled his eyes and demolished the rest of his sandwich, Amalia following suit.
“As long as he treats you good.” Angel muttered as he walked back to the kitchen.
Amalia bit her lip at the comment before typing out a reply to Bishop.
Name the time and place :)
Her phone vibrated within seconds of hitting send.
My place, 6:30. See you then sweetheart.
Amalia looked from the text, to her brother who was fluffing around in the kitchen. She wasn’t doing anything wrong by getting dinner with Bishop. They’d done it before, not that she’d told Angel. And besides, it was only dinner. Just two friends who happen to live down the street from each other.
How would Angel react to it? Probably not well. But still, she couldn't stop herself from the excitement that bubbled at the thought of the dinner.
Can’t wait.
```
It shouldn’t have surprised Amalia, how good the food was as she’d already experienced it with the pie weeks prior. Although dinner was ‘only’ spaghetti and meatballs, it was damn near the best she’d ever had. The big, scary Mayans President was an absolute whiz in the kitchen.
Dinner had passed with the pair indulging in both wine and beer, Bishop had begun to keep a bottle of red handy for occasions such as this, and sharing so much laughter their sides hurt. It was peaceful, and oh so comfortable.
Neither brought up the stressful day to day topics like work and the club. Instead they spoke of their favourite holidays as kids, where they’d go if they could travel anywhere in the world, what animal best represented them.
That last one was all Amalia, but Bishop had indulged her.
“You’d be an ant,” he’d decided, “with how social you are.”
“An ant?! That’s not even an animal. I’m more like a… penguin.”
In the end they agreed to disagree.
“Bishop, you cooked. Please let me do the cleaning.” she all but begged as he began to gather up the dirty dishes. The biker waved her off with a smile as he continued.
“You’re my guest, querida. Sit there and drink your wine.”
Amalia let her eyes follow the rough man as he cleared the table, moving to fill the sink with hot water. It was weird seeing Bishop like this. It almost felt wrong. She was in his house, his private four walls away from the club. He wasn’t wearing his kutte, he looked almost relaxed. In that moment, it wasn’t ‘Bishop Losa, MC President’. It was just Bishop. Bishop, the man that kept his lawns immaculate. Bishop, the man that could cook an incredible pot pie. Bishop, the man that owned exactly one nicknack.
Bishop. The man had been on Amalia’s mind constantly lately.
“Have I got something on my face or what?”
His deeper voice broke her train of thought as he caught her staring red handed. His eyes weren’t on her though, they remained on the dirty dishes he had begun to wash.
She smiled at his side profile, “Just thinking.”
“That’s a dangerous way to spend your time, querida.”
“What… thinking?” Amalia giggled.
Bishop pulled a tight-lipped smile and nodded once, “Gets you in all sorts of trouble.”
The Reyes sister cocked her head and made her way from the table to stand beside the older man, still diligently washing the dishes. She took a moment to properly take in the comment, knowing the President usually had a deeper meaning behind his words. Grabbing a dish towel in silence, Amalia made a start on drying the dishes.
“Some would say,” she began, “You attract even more trouble by not thinking.”
Bishop glanced at her briefly, “You just love to argue with me don’t you, sweetheart?”
Amalia grinned slyly up at him, “Gotta keep you young somehow, Prez.”
He shook his head, chuckling lowly not dignifying her remark with a verbal response, instead deciding to use the scrubbing brush to splash bubbles at her, hitting her square on the nose.
“Bishop!” she burst into laughter, doing her best not to get any of the hopefully not-too-dirty dishwater and bubble combo that was now dripping down her face, in her mouth.
“Told you not to think, querida.” he winked at her and went back to washing the cup in his hands.
Quickly wiping her face with the dish towel, she twisted it in her hands, lined it perfectly with her target and let it fly, whipping Bishop’s bicep perfectly with a satisfying ‘snap’.
Her target startled, hand quickly coming up to caress where he had been hit, turning to face Amalia with a shocked smile.
“You…”
“You were thinking too hard.” she mocked, shrugging and continuing to dry the plates.
She froze when another belt of soapy water hit her, soaking her more than last time. Mouth hanging open in shock and laughter, Amalia moved quickly to once again whip her dish towel at the taller man. Bishop responded accordingly with more dish water, this time wetting the dish towel as Amalia held it up in defence.
Water on a dish towel gives it much more power when used as a whip… much more. It seemed that they both realised this at the same time, Amalia growing excited and Bishop growing regretful.
“Don’t…” he warned, but it was hard to take him seriously when a smile was plastered across his face.
Amalia giggled as she twisted the towel once again, readying it for her shot. It seemed that Bishop could anticipate her next move however as he made to grab it just as she took her shot. The brunette tugged at her end.
“That’s not fair! This is my weapon, not my fault you chose dish water.” She tugged again, only to be met with the resistance of a strong man.
“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”
“Bishop!” She was in stitches at the situation, laughing too much to be able to actually grip the towel enough to stand a chance, “Give it back!”
He tugged his end again, “Apologise.”
She tugged back, “No!”
“Apologise.” he chuckled, tugging at the dish towel a bit harder, in turn pulling Amalia toward him with it.
She collided with his chest in a fit of laughter, sides beginning to hurt as she attempted to catch her breath. Pushing herself back from her position, she gained her composure and looked up at Bishop. Only now realising how close they actually were.
Silence fell over the duo. Amalia breathing heavily still trying to catch her breath, and Bishop breathing shallowly due to the close proximity he found himself in with the woman that held his infatuation.
Amalia cleared her throat when their eyes locked, “Um-”
His lips were on hers before she could mutter a complete word.
It took a moment for Amalia to process what was happening, but it was a short moment and she soon found herself sliding her hands up to gently grasp the sides of Bishop’s neck, quickly returning the kiss. She could have sworn she felt him sigh into her at that moment, almost in relief.
He kept the kiss clean. No tongue. No teeth. Just lips. And want.
Amalia felt like her mind was racing but couldn’t pinpoint what she was actually thinking. She knew what she was feeling though.
Butterflies making their presence known in her stomach, a satisfying burn on her waist where Bishop held her, an almost-annoying-but-actually-quite-nice tickle on her lip from his mustache, and the feeling of wow, this is actually happening.
They were lost in their moment, her hands on his neck, his hands on her waist, and their lips interlocked. No one could say how long they would’ve stayed like that if that goddamn phone hadn’t decided to ring.
Bishop quickly pulled back from her at the ringtone. Not moving to answer his phone, instead just removing himself from her grasp and staring at her flushed face. Neither spoke a word as the ringtone finally died down, only to start up again a second later.
The second ring seemed to break the President out of his daze as he broke his eye contact and grabbed the still ringing cell phone from the bench, cursing quietly when he saw who was calling.
“What?” he answered with a gruff tone.
Amalia spent the next few seconds collecting herself, not paying attention to the topic of the phone call. Although she could guess it was club related based on the amount of swearing she could hear on both ends. She found her fingers tracing her lips subconsciously when Bishop ended the call.
“Fuckin’...” he trailed off, turning back to her, “Uh… club shit,”
He was struggling to meet her eyes, instead deciding to focus on the now abandoned dish towel sitting on the bench, “I gotta go. You uh… you can…”
“I’ll clean up then head out.” She offered, seeing how he was struggling with words and making the whole situation more awkward.
Still not meeting her eyes, he stared intensely at the towel, opened his mouth as if he had something else to add, before settling with a nod and turning to leave the kitchen.
Amalia could hear him pulling on his boots in the next room and imagined him shrugging on his kutte too. The opening and slamming of the front door pulled her back to reality as she realised he had left. The roaring of his Harley as it started up and rode off confirming it.
The breath she let out was so shaky it was audible, she made to grab the bench behind her to steady herself.
“Holy fuck.” she whispered. What the hell just happened?
“Holy fuck.” she exclaimed as she made her way to the front door, leaving the dishes in the dirty, cooling water.
Fuck cleaning up. She just wanted to go home.
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