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honkytonk-hangman · 2 years ago

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SNEAK PEEK – TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS

40s!Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Summary: The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you'd been in a floundering engagement. Back then you'd seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

Notes: hello comrades, its me, el presidente of the Jake Seresin Professional Baby Girl Club :) vibes wise, this is partially based on the potato movie and a little bit of what we've seen in trailers for Devotion. Mostly because sweetcheeks looks so good in both. I hope you enjoy this little sneak peek, please send an ask or comment if you would like to be tagged when it comes out!!! <3

Reader has a nickname– Duckie, but its just so that it's easier to write dialogue lol pls dont b mad uwu thank u to @ussgallifrey @natrace @bvckysmoon for being very devious and sending me lots of pictures of mr handsome when i should be finishing my other wips <3 love u all never change <3

Words: 1.8k

UPDATE: FULL FIC AVAILABLE HERE!

1946

You can’t help but let out a laugh as you’re guided through the busy dance hall, barely missing a waiter with a large tray of drinks as you go. You try to call back an apology, but the hand wrapped around your wrist is already dragging you away, weaving in and out of the crowds of dancers and party-goers.

You’d almost forgotten what the atmosphere in a place like this could be like, exuberant and daring, and now that the war was officially over, lacking in any sort of melancholy.

Bea, your well meaning, but a little over-excited friend, finally seems to be slowing down, though she has one last surprise in stall for you, using your momentum to swing you around to her side with a strength such a small woman certainly shouldn’t possess.

“There she is!” a male voice, deep and pleasant, greets from somewhere in front of you, and you give your head a quick shake, attempting to get your bearings now.

“Sorry we’re late, sugar! Had a lipstick emergency!” Bea says only half truthfully, stepping away from your side momentarily to allow a handsome moustachioed man to lean down and kiss her cheek.

You can’t help but smile at the sweet display. Bea had been telling you all about Bradley Bradshaw for weeks now, and if even half of what she’d told you was true, you already liked him immensely for treating your friend so well.

“And this must be the famous Duckie I’ve heard all about,” honey coloured eyes swivel away from Bea and land on you, making you remember yourself.

“It’s so good to meet you at last, Lieutenant Bradshaw!” you shake his offered hand warmly.

“Please just call me Bradley– or Rooster!” he gently corrects you, before he hums, and shoots Bea a suspicious look.

“Do you think she’s adding us birds to some sort of collection?” he asks conspiratorially, the question making you laugh genuinely at the absurdity.

Bea huffs, shakes her head, and smacks his arm, trying her best to fight off the grin on her lips.

“All I’ll say Rooster, is that you’d best treat her right, or she will hunt you for sport,” you lean in and reply, receiving your own smack for your trouble. Rooster’s face turns bright and he laughs, pulling Bea near with his arm around her.

“I can believe that, yes ma’am,” they look at each other with barely concealed adoration, and it makes your heart clench a little in your chest. You’re quickly distracted though, with the sudden and rowdy approach of six other people, all dressed to the nines like everyone else around you. Rooster seems unfazed by their appearance, though he tears his eyes away from Bea to glance around at the now much larger group you were in.

“Fellas, you all know Bea already, and this is Bea’s friend, Duckie,” he easily introduces you to the six newcomers, all men except for a tall, beautiful brunette woman who looked like she could eat every single one of them for breakfast. A flurry of handshakes and names are exchanged, and you’re surprised by just how quickly you feel totally absorbed by the group of Naval Aviators, like you’d known them all for years and were just catching up again.

“I’m spotting a free table, north west!” the man who held the youngest looking features of the group, Fanboy you believe he’d introduced himself as, pipes up, pointing over everyone's heads to the large round table that was currently being cleaned up. Before you can even process it, the entire group is migrating casually toward the table, Rooster catching the arm of the waiter before he leaves, putting a round in, you assume.

You find yourself next to Bob, who sends you an adorably awkward little grin as he pulls out your chair for you, and you thank him sincerely. Despite the gentlemanly gesture, the moment you’re comfortable, he’s taking his own seat, and once more totally absorbed by the woman you’d learn was named Phoenix, or Nat. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, too distracted by all the new faces, and their excitable personalities, but Bob was clearly, utterly enamoured by Phoenix, and it looked like the feeling was returned, if perhaps a little less socially awkward.

“Hey, Javy, where’s Hangman?” Bea is sat a few places down from you, her hand wrapped through Rooster’s arm. A man on the opposite side of the table waves his hand over his shoulder.

“He’s coming, probably caught his reflection in a glass,” Javy snorts.

“I wanted to introduce him to Ducky!” Bea pouts, and her words make you frown.

“Pardon?” you say pointedly, leaning around Bob and Phoenix to look at Bea with a frown. Rooster seems to be matching your expression, and he cocks his head at his partner.

“Ducky is far too nice for him,” Rooster says, but you get the feeling he doesn’t really mean it.

“Oh come off it, Ducks, you could do with meeting someone new!” Bea rolls her eyes, but her voice is imploring.

Your frown deepens just a little bit, but you aren’t too angry. It wasn’t as if she’d tricked you into a double date or anything. There were plenty of other seemingly solo people around that you’re sure any awkwardness could easily be avoided if you managed to stick by Bob and Phoenix.

“I’m afraid that I won’t be able to help you there, Honey Bea,” A smooth male voice purrs from behind you, and you almost jump at the hand that comes to rest on the back of your chair. You turn quickly in no small amount of surprise at the person apparently so close behind you, but any further thought is cut off when your eyes land on the handsome face smirking coquettishly down at you.

You’re so surprised, you gasp daintily, moving to stand so that you can greet the familiar man properly.

“Lieutenant Seresin!” you welcome him excitedly, gratefully accepting the hand he offers to help you to your feet.

“Jake,” he corrects, and you feel foolish for laughing.

“Jake!” you repeat warmly.

“You two already know each other?” Bea sounds put out, but intrigued, and you tear your gaze away from Jake for a few moments to focus on her.

“Oh Ducky and I are good ol’ friends,” Jake tells her, and you cock your head at him with a small shake, but look back at your friend.

“We met in Paris, during the war,” you explain to her, opening your mouth to continue on that he had been a friend of your fiance’s, but you stop yourself.

“My favourite nurse,” Jake adds, and brings your hand that you realise he’s still holding to his lips. Your chest flutters, but you’re distracted from the butterflies by the odd look on his face, paired with the brief flicker of his eyes down to your hand.

“Where is the old man, then?” Jake tilts his head at you, and then quickly around at the crowded club, and you suck in a breath, realising now what he’d been confused by.

You take your left hand back from him with only a small amount of effort, and smooth down your frock primly. Suddenly his closeness was nerve wracking.

“Probably with his new wife, I haven’t exactly been keeping up,” you scold yourself for the sass and bitterness. Jake’s head whips back to face you, and for several moments he stares down at you, before a tiny crease pulls between his brows, and his lips purse.

“I never liked him, anyway,” Jake says the words, and you know it’s supposed to be a joke, but his taut expression and humourless voice say otherwise. You look down at your skirt and shrug.

“Well, it’s probably for the best,” you shake off any residual foul mood, and straighten, letting your lips curl back into a smile.

“It’s so good to see you again,” you say happily, and Jake’s face softens. He takes back your hand, and kisses it once more.

“I imagine,” he bounces an eyebrow at you, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“You’re supposed to say ‘you too’!” you grumble with no conviction, as Jake rounds your seat, only releasing your hand when he has to, to help you back into your chair, before he takes the empty space beside you. He simply shrugs, before his eyes flick past you to Rooster and Bea.

“Sorry to ruin your setup,” he doesn’t sound very sorry at all, though you doubt Bea was feeling too upset right now, with the way she was looking between you and Jake with glee in her eyes.

“Hey, wasn’t my plan. I think she’s too good for you,” Rooster chortles, catching the fist Bea attempts to sock him with, and kisses it instead.

Jake cuts his gaze down at you, and leans in so only you’ll hear him.

“How long have you been in San Diego?” he asks, and you’re forced to lean away so you can look up at him without your faces being much too near.

“Six months now. I met Bea on the boat coming home from London, she convinced me not to go back to New York after… everything.” you tell him equally as quietly, but realising what a stroke of luck it was that you had just so happened to run into one another here, when you so easily could have never seen him again.

“I’m glad.” he says, pinning you in place with an almost curious stare, but you figure he was just taking in your face for the first time in two years. Part of you wishes you hadn’t moved back, but if you’d remained in place and simply turned your head, you’re almost certain your lips might’ve been close enough to touch when you spoke.

The thought makes your face boil, and you avert your gaze, and reach for the glass of water that had been poured for you earlier.

“Oh, Duckie,” Jake hums in an almost sing-song, leaning away from you at last, and once again speaking at a normal volume. You turn to look at him with a questioning frown, but he only continues to watch you in amusement, cheshire grin pulling at his lips.

“My little sitting Duckie,” he continues, smile only continuing to grow. You shake your head at him good-naturedly, but can’t help but feel there's some truth in his teasing.

You know you should probably feel more trepidation, but the only thing that you feel pumping through your veins is the exhilarating thrill at the thought of Jake calling you ‘his’ anything.

The way he was looking at you felt positively predatory, and under his blistering stare, you really were a sitting duck.

#jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #top gun: maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin 40s au #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin

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bucksangel · 3 years ago

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Control

Pairing: Bishop Losa x F!Reader (no description of body type or race is mentioned but as always, please let me know if i missed something!)

Word Count: 4.4k of filth

Summary: After a long and hectic week, Bishop finally gets to see you. And as much as he loves being in your presence, he loves it even more when you submit yourself to him.

Warnings: NSFW 18+, pretty rough sex, very little plot (almost none), cumplay, Bishop calling reader ‘Kitten’, sir kink, smoke kink (bishop blows smoke into reader’s face while getting a blowjob), oral (m receiving), a tiny bit of anal fingering, pussy slapping, squirting, dom!bishop, a bit of overstimulation, consent is very important for el presidente, bishop gives that good dick, i stg if i find out any minor’s are interacting i will block y'all

Tip Jar

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

It’s been a long, hard fucking week. Granted, it is only Tuesday, but the statement remains true. Let alone the stress the club has been under, Bishop hasn’t slept in nearly three days. Their latest run took over a week and he had sent everyone home the second they got back. Bishop, though, hasn’t left the clubhouse in over a day, too overwhelmed to get any shut eye while he ponders about the next inevitable run and how he’s going to smooth things over with Galindo. He hates, he loathes, bringing the club life into your home, so he’s spent his time at the clubhouse, drowning his anger with bourbon. You yourself have been working yourself to the bone, using work as a distraction from Bishop’s absence over the last week and working through the night last night has caused you to not be able to visit your husband yet, and that’s what has him most wound up. He hasn’t been able to see you in eight days, and he’s ready to lose his mind.

It’s nearing seven pm and the clubhouse is full again, the club members deciding to lay back and relax with a few dozen other people to de-stress. Bishop is in Templo, where he’s been for nearly five hours, simmering. His headache hasn’t gone away since it began that morning and the crease in his brow line only deepens with every passing minute as he wills himself to calm down. It isn’t until someone knocks on the door that Bishop realizes it’s now seven-thirty, and he’s already halfway through his bottle. He’s almost tempted to ignore whoever decided it was a good idea to disturb him, but he forces himself to breathe and brace himself for what bullshit he’s about to get.

“What?” He barks out, not bothering to look up as the door slides open and then shut. No sound is made for a long moment, which prompts Bishop to finally turn from where he’d been standing by the window.

And it’s you, looking as breathtaking as ever in a simple black dress hugging your body and resting on your mid-thigh. Bishop takes his time looking you over, down your body (though his eyes do linger on your chest for a good few seconds) to the matching black heels you’re wearing (and wow do they make your legs look good). It’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Bishop must have missed you too much, must have been staring at you too long, because he doesn’t register a single thing you’ve said since you entered.

You’ve moved to stand in front of him, and that’s what pulls your husband out of his trance. His eyes snap to yours, then down to your red painted lips that’s turned up into a smirk, and that causes him to smile too, for the first time in eight days he feels like a weight is lifted. Still, he can’t shake the tension in his shoulders, the heaviness in his heart, it’s still beating his chest raw.

“Hello, mi amor,” He whispers, his voice cracking from not having used it for hours (the constant chain smoking hasn’t helped either), and he moves back to his chair, almost throwing his weight onto it as he slumps down. It’s clear he’s still on edge, seeing you is a blessing but it doesn’t completely wash away everything he’s feeling right now.

You, coy as ever, saunter over to his chair, maneuvering yourself to stand between his parted legs, the back of your thighs resting on the table. Smiling wider, you slowly move yourself down so you’re on your knees, your bottom resting on your heels and your hands running their way up to his thighs (and Bishop is now noticing your deep red claws that pull at his denim). “Hi, sir,” You breathe out, careful not to fill the room (just yet) with your words.

Bishop’s jaw clenches for a brief moment, and he almost sighs in relief at knowing you’re here to take care of him, to let him use you to his heart’s content. He breathes deeper, slower, eyes glossing over as he lets the stress of the day wash back over him. With that being used as his motivation, he reaches to his left and picks up his half-smoked cigarette to re-light it. After inhaling for a long moment, he glances down at you and blows, the smoke hitting your face and you smile, eyes shutting as you let yourself fall into your submission.

“What are you waiting for then?” He questions, nodding to the bulge in pants that grows by the minute. It’s a rhetorical question, he knows what you’re waiting for, knows you wait for his command before doing anything.

Nodding shyly, you reach up to grasp at his crotch and lick your lips, ready to devour your man whole. “Thank you, sir,” You whisper again, already unbuckling his belt and pulling at his jeans so they rest on the tops of his thighs, his cock now out and erect. Licking your red-stained lips, you take his length into your hand, and no matter how big you think you are, his cock always seems to make your hand look small in comparison.

Grasping Bishop in your hand, you hold it still so you’re able to lean forward and kiss the tip delicately. Bishop’s deep brown eyes never waver from your gaze, even when he grabs for his glass to swallow down the amber liquid. Smoke fills the room again as you poke out your tongue to give his cock kitten-like licks up and down. His musky taste and scent fill your being, things guaranteed to get you slick and dripping.

Suckling on his tip again, you keep your eyes locked on Bishop’s, he’s relaxed. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he wasn’t enjoying himself. But you do know him, you know how he gets off on dominating and humiliating you, he gets off on the obvious power he holds over you. This much is evident with the way he grasps the back of your neck and forces your head downward, forcing you to swallow his cock whole. Immediately, you’re humming, satisfied to your core that you’re the one making him feel good, you’re the only one that can bring him the kind of pleasure he needs.

Hollowing your cheeks and sucking softly, you see Bishop take another drag of his cigarette. He forces his cock into the back of your throat which makes you sputter around his length, saliva and lipstick running down your chin. His hand travels into your hair, grabbing whatever he can of it and pulling your head back enough so he’s still buried in your throat however now you’re looking up directly at him. With your eyes wide and a few tears falling down your cheeks, he blows the smoke out. The thick cloud swirls around you, it fills your senses and fogs your mind. All you can think of right now is how badly you need to make him cum, how you need to taste him, you need him to use you more than you’ve ever needed anything.

Bishop allows you to close your eyes while he fucks your mouth, in and out and in and out. You suck him in earnest, your slurping covers up his soft groans of pleasure. One of your hands grips at his thigh while the other moves to cup his balls, but you’re only able to hold them for a few seconds before your husband yanks you off of him, a frown etched on his face. Yelps and whimpers escape your lips, the sting on your scalp of your hair being pulled paired with the loss of his cock forces your eyes open. Soft whines start forming on your lips but Bishop is having none of it, the hand in your hair moving down to wrap around your neck.

“Did I say you could touch me?” He spits out, taking another drag of his cigarette while you take a moment to get your thoughts in order. But when you don’t immediately answer him, your husband clenches his fingers ever so slightly, and the pressure around your neck has you choking out a moan.

“No, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” You’re gasping for breath, eyes starting to roll back into your head when Bishop lets out another billow of smoke that surrounds your face. It makes you moan, makes you clench your thighs together to relieve the absolute aching in your core by any means necessary. You could cum just from this alone, the absolute devotion you have for this man consumes your entire being. The absolute need to surrender your soul (and your pussy) flows through your veins.

Bishop clenches his hand tighter around your neck, almost completely cutting off your air supply while he smirks down at you. You, on your knees, tears and spit covering your face, lipstick smudged (with some of it staining his very hard cock), it’s almost enough to make him bust. But as you know, his restraint and patience far outweighs your own. And it won’t take long for you to beg, to plead, for any relief he chooses to bestow upon your body.

The hand around your neck is suddenly gone, allowing you to gulp down as much air before he decides to cut off your air supply again. “Get up, kitten,” Bishop orders. His tone may be soft but you’re not fooled, it is not up for debate nor does he have time for defiance. And you know this, which is why you quickly stand (it makes you dizzy but you’re quick to steady yourself) and turn around, pushing your ass out as you brace your hands on the table in front of you and arch.

Bishop knows what you’re doing, and he loves it. He loves how he can bring out the sluttiest and neediest version of you whenever he pleases. A loud smack echoes through the room with your ass taking the blow. Another smack, and then another, is given one after the other, landing in the same spot each time. With every sharp spank he delivers you let out a high pitched whine, nearly screaming by the fifth. It stings, it hurts, and it turns you on more than anything.

Your head is yanked back again, but a hand is placed on your back to keep you arched, and Bishop speaks again. “What do you say, kitten?” Again, you know what he wants to hear, and it brings you the most intense pleasure to give into his demands.

“Thank you, sir,” You whisper, your mind reeling with so many thoughts of the ways he could ruin you right now.

Another sharp smack is landed to your backside and you yelp, surely loud enough for the occupants of the clubhouse to hear. Your husband grabs and kneads your ass, clearly waiting for you to correct your mistake. “Thank you, sir,” You say louder, one hand grasping at the edge of the table. The bottom of your dress is lifted, revealing your clothed pussy that’s slowly becoming stained by your obvious enjoyment of the situation.

His finger slips into your pantyline, toying with it before he snaps it against your skin, it’s a refreshing kind of pain. Next, he slips his finger into the back of your panties so he can hook the small material around it, and pulls. The crotch of your underwear is bunched tight and rubs deliciously against your core as Bishop continues to pull and wiggle the flimsy lace. They’re pulled so tight that the panties slip between your pussy lips, giving you even more stimulation as it’s dragged back and forth against your clit. You’re moaning without care, all you do care about is the pleasure spinning around and in you. You make a mistake, though, by rolling your hips back in a riding motion and whining. Bishop stops abruptly, clearly dissatisfied with your actions. He doesn’t reprimand you though, because he already knows the perfect way to shut you up.

After a solid minute of letting you catch your breath and steel yourself, Bishop is twisting the lace in his hand and pulls, ripping the fabric from your body (and you relish in knowing it’ll leave marks that’ll last for days). Tossing the thong on the table next to your head, he runs his hands down your arched back. Thankfully your dress was on the cheaper side, and you’re not too attached to it. Even if you were, it wouldn’t matter, because your man is quick to grab the back of your dress with both hands and pull in either direction, splitting the material in half and leaving it to fall at your feet. He shoves his knee into your right leg, forcing your legs to spread wider and allow him easier access to see how wet you truly are. Suddenly, Bishop is pushing in between your shoulder blades and forcing your chest to press against the cool surface of the table below you. You’re now pinned down and unable to move (not like you’d want to anyway).

“You’re dripping, kitten. You love this, don’t you?” Despite Bishop’s gruff nature, the question is sincere. He’s about to blow and he needs to know that you’re okay with what is about to ensue. But when his only response is your nod, he brings his hand back and swings it forward, landing dead center on your core. The force of the blow pushes you further against the table, and your cry booms through the room. “No, I need to hear you say it, kitten.” He’s demanding an answer now. And despite being able to read you well and knowing you’re more than likely prepared for what’s to come, he needs to hear you express your desire for the continuation of the scene.

“Yes. Yes, sir. I need it so bad, sir,” You’re barely able to speak, hell, you’re barely able to think. But you know your consent is important to him, you know he’d never forgive himself for doing anything you weren’t 100% on board with.

With your confirmation, his hands leave your body to yank his belt off his pants. Before doing anything else, he grabs both of your wrists in his hands and pulls them behind your back, leaving you with nothing to steady yourself (which isn’t surprising, your husband gets off when he has full control over your body). What does surprise you, though, is how he wraps his belt around your wrists, pulls the strap tight, and you’re left incapacitated. The sound of shuffling comes from behind you, and you don’t need to see to know that Bishop is pushing his pants and boxers further down his thighs so he’s able to free his cock even more.

Another slap lands on your core, causing you to cry out and clench down around nothing. Bishop’s hand comes into view as he reaches over and picks up your underwear while his other hand moves to squeeze your cheeks, forcing your head upwards and your mouth open. “Gonna have to shut your pretty mouth up,” He huffs before balling up your panties and shoving them into your mouth. The slick your pussy leaked out while sucking on Bishop’s cock is now all you can taste, and boy does it make your core tingle, your legs involuntarily twitching due to how absolutely wet you are.

Your face is freed from his grasp, causing you to slump onto the wood, cheek pressed against it as you stare out of the window. You’re breathing heavily through your nose, but you don’t care about any discomfort you’re feeling, you’re too far gone to object to anything your husband does. The one concrete thing you can think of is how badly you need to please your man, how badly you need him to ruin your body and leave you a crying, trembling mess.

Your eyes twist shut, a muffled moan trying desperately to escape your lips comes as Bishop grabs at his cock and runs the tip through your folds. Coating his cock in your slick, he taps his cockhead against your clit once, twice, and three times. Wearing heels might not have been the smartest decision, because your hips twitch every time he makes contact with the bundle of nerves. They almost buckle when Bishop rubs his cock over and around your clit at a rapid pace, and your obvious need for him brings a smile to his face, fills his chest with pride.

When Bishop decides you’ve been treated enough, you barely have any time to cool down before he slips his cock into your weeping pussy. Tears roll down your cheeks rapidly, the pleasure is so intense that crying seems to be the only way to let out your emotions. His length slips in with ease due to how wet you are (and your preparation earlier that evening), and he’s pushed as far as he can go, one hand gripping your hip and the other pressed into your back. With this leverage Bishop is able to pull back just enough, just so to where his cockhead teases its way out of your hole, only to be forced back in.

The audible slapping of your hips colliding has your pussy fluttering and twitching around Bishop’s girth, moans are muffled by the lace in your mouth and your eyes twist tighter and tighter with every thrust of his hips, the head of his dick slamming nearly perfectly against your g-spot. Your husband leans back with his cock still nestled in the deepest parts of your body, his calloused hands grab each of your ass cheeks and pulls, giving him a clear view of both of your fluttering holes. Hands massage each cheek, the roughness of his hands and his actions pushes you further into your euphoria. Suddenly, and without warning, Bishop spits, the saliva landing perfectly on your puckered and fluttering asshole. Your moan is almost loud enough to be heard, and your husband is having none of it.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” He asks, pulling back one hand to smack it against your ass cheek. “I don’t need anyone else hearing what belongs to me. Your pleasure is mine, your screams are for me and me alone.”

Your cheek is pressed further into the table, squished against it while Bishop continues to grind his cock deeper and deeper. The pad of his thumb moves quickly to your puckered ring of muscle, massaging the spit around and teasing his thumb in with every motion of his hips. You’re shaking at this point, desperate for release, desperate for more more more (but you know you won’t get your release yet, you know that you only cum when Bishop says you can). Your heart is beating too fast, like it’s trying to break free from your chest, your salty tears stream down your cheeks to stain the wood below (just like you’re sure the slick dripping from your pussy is staining the floor).

With a powerful thrust of his hips, Bishop resumes fucking the life out of you, all of his pent up rage and anger motivating every move he makes. Your limbs are tired, stretched and sore beyond belief while your husband fucks into you like you’re nothing more than his toy to play with, his toy to use, which you are. Body, mind, and soul, you’re his, you’d give anything and everything you have for this man, the pleasure he brings you is simply a plus.

The brutal fucking continues for another few minutes before Bishop pushes his thumb into your asshole and massages your walls, the burn and stretch is almost too much, it’s almost too good for you to bear. Your climax is coming, simmering below the surface just waiting to explode. You haven’t cum in over a week per your agreement with your husband that he is the only one allowed to make you cum, he is the only person that can and should bring you the pleasure you crave. So, you hold it, clenching tighter and tighter around his twitching cock to hold off an orgasm you know will be powerful enough to leave your vision blurry and your mind empty.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, get you nice and full,” Bishop’s voice is smooth like honey, like he isn’t on the verge of an intense orgasm. Your hands that are tied behind you clench together, your head nodding as fast as it can (which isn’t fast at all, your mind is too hazy to properly react). “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you, kitten? Take it all like the good little slut you are?” Knowing you can’t respond, he speeds up the pace of his hips, the loud and wet smacking is deafening, it can no doubt be heard by everyone on the other side of the Templo door. His hand swings back, then forward, at the same time he pulls his thumb out of your hole. It makes you clench down, your walls wrapped perfectly to fit Bishop’s dick, like it’s molded to fit him and him alone.

The clenching of your pussy is what does it for him, Bishop lets his head fall back as he releases a loud grunt, almost similar to a roar. Cum fills you, coating every inch of your walls as he continues to fuck you through his orgasm. A long moment later and he’s finally slowing down, giving irregular, shallow thrusts. The look on your face is priceless, it’s beautiful, the way you’re too tired, too drained to do anything but take everything your husband gives you. Bishop’s smiling genuinely now, his worries and stress melted away thanks to your help. This is when he decides that he’s put you through enough, you deserve to cum and he’s going to be the one making you.

Your mind is almost detached from reality, it’s all too easy to get lost in the pleasure that comes with being absolutely and completely manhandled by this heaven-sent man. You are conscious enough to realize that Bishop is pulling out completely, and though your core burns like hell, you whine. The loss of his cock is truly disheartening when all you can think of, all you can hope for, is cumming. You feel liquid running down the insides of your thighs, you hear the faint ‘thud’ of it dripping onto the floor, and then you’re feeling two thick fingers prodding at your fucked-out hole. They gather up the cum that’s still leaking downwards, and then they move down to your clit, your clit that is oh so swollen and sensitive.

Jerking back into his hand (or maybe you’re trying to get away, who knows?), Bishop takes that as his cue to put you out of your misery. His voice is soft and low, almost a whisper, “You can cum anytime you like, kitten.” His fingers start to circle your clit, pressing down and moving side to side as more of his cum continues to seep from your abused pussy.

You visibly relax, knowing you’re allowed to cum feels like breaking free from shackles meant to hold you together. With another swipe of his fingers, you’re not cumming, you’re squirting, drenching his hand, the floor, and Bishop’s thighs that are still pressed close to your hips. Black dots cloud your vision, and then the darkness is all you see, the pleasure too good it’s taken away your sight. The lace in your mouth is no longer able to muffle your sounds, your screams that are echoing through the room and surely the rest of the clubhouse. Your legs shake and buckle, and you’re positive that you would have collapsed to the floor had you been in any other position.

Bishop continues fingering you through your orgasm (an orgasm that feels like it’s lasted hours), until you slump onto the wood, unmoving. Your husband, finally satisfied, pulls his fingers from your loose, quivering hole, and leans over your body. His clean hand takes the panties from your mouth, drenched in saliva, and let’s you gulp down as much air as you need. You’re not given too much of a reprieve before Bishop takes your face in his hand again to pull your head back. Lips squished into a pout, he runs his cum-soaked fingers delicately over them, leaving a trail behind, and then he’s slipping those fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t ask you to suck on them, he doesn’t need to, you do it involuntarily to chase the taste of something distinctly you and him.

“There you go, kitten. Did so good for me, took my cock so well. Fucking love you,” Bishop’s praise is what does you in again, you don’t even have the strength to tense up while you cum again, once again squirting out juices that Bishop desperately wants to taste. He decides he’ll save that for another day, though.

“Thank you, sir,” Your voice is shaky and broken as his fingers slip out of your mouth, hiccupping every so often.

You feel Bishop’s hand run down your back to where your arms are still tied, and you breathe a sigh of relief when he starts undoing the belt digging into your arms. His hands gently massage your wrists, bringing back the circulation in your hands and the numbness gradually decreases. Lost in the tiredness of your bones, you don’t really register how you’re being moved, all you know is the warm, safe embrace of Bishop’s arms. You’re still not able to stand, especially given the heels that have somehow stayed on your feet through the entirety of the scene.

When your eyes open again, you look up to see Bishop gazing down at you, a love-drunk look in his eyes and a smile so soft it melts you. He’s sitting back in his chair with you cradled in his arms, he’s pressed you tightly to his chest. You then realize that he’s pulled his boxers and pants back over his hips and his kutte rests over your body, giving you even more security with his scent encompassing your being.

“Thank you, querida. Didn’t realize how much I needed that,” Bishop whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and smiling when you whine.

“I love you, Obispo,” That��s all you’re able to say, all you’re able to think. You love him like you’d never loved anyone, he’s your soulmate.

“I love you too, honey,” Bishop says, lips still pressed to your forehead. The last thing you hear before you drift off into a slumber is him saying, “Rest now, I’m here.”

#let me know what y'all think!#mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans fx #mayans headcanons #bishop losa #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa smut #my writing

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spanishskulduggery · 3 years ago

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Hi! I'm very curious about something regarding the Spanish language. I'm currently studying A2 Spanish but I had this question and my teacher did not seem too willing to discuss it. Here it goes:

I know that Spanish has, something my Spanish teacher says, linguistic gender. I was wondering how do the people who don't align themselves with the gender binary (masculine and feminine) speak/write in it? I have read this article about Spanish speaking people from US adding "x" Or "@" and people from Argentina using "e" to make the words gender neutral.

Thank you so much for responding, whenever you get to it. Also love your blog. ❤

Short answer, in general speaking terms people are tending towards the -e now because the other two are very hard to actually speak, and because Spanish-speakers feel the -e is more authentic

What you're most likely to see in Spanish is masculine plural as the default, or in written things you might see todos y todas or like un/una alumno/a "a student", or like se busca empleado/a "employees wanted" / "looking for an employee"

If it's something official or academic you typically include both [todas y todas] or you go masculine plural [todos] unless it's specifically feminine plural

Related, linguistic gender applies to all things, not just people. Why is la mesa "table" feminine, but el libro "book" masculine? Just linguistic gender. I can tell you that most loanwords (that aren't people) in Spanish are masculine, and that there are certain words that come from Greek are masculine, and that -ista words are unisex most of the time... And I can tell you there are some words like testigo or modelo that are unisex and don't change for gender. Aside from that, speaking about nouns and grammatical gender... those particular things are harder to parse for regular people, but if you go into the field of linguistics you can explore that more deeply. Some of it is source language (i.e. "it came from Latin this way") or things like that. And in general when talking about nouns it's unimportant and not considered sexist, that's just how it is.

There is such a thing where it gets a little too far the other way and people will say "history? what about herstory" which is a nice thought but the etymology has nothing to do with gender there

When it comes to people - and when it comes to gendered attitudes - that's where it gets more confusing and more complicated.

I believe there was an experiment where people had French and Spanish speakers [I believe it was Spanish] try to identify how a "fork" would sound. French people gave it a more feminine voice because "fork" is feminine in French, while Spanish speakers gave it a more masculine voice because it's masculine in Spanish.

Whether we like it or not, certain gendered things do influence our thoughts and feelings and reactions. A similar thing in English exists where the old joke was something like "There was a car accident; a boy is rushed to the ER and the surgeon but the father was killed. When they got to the ER the doctor said 'I can't operate on him, he's my son!'" and it's like "well who could the doctor be?" ...and the doctor is his mother. We associate "doctor" as masculine and "nurse" as feminine.

There's a gender bias in our language thought patterns, even though the language changes. And that does exist in Spanish too, to different extents.

There are certain cultural and gendered stereotypes or connotations attached to certain words, many tend to be more despective or pejorative when it's women.

For example - and I know this has changed in many places or it isn't as prevalent - el jinete "horseman/rider", while the female form is la amazona "horsewoman/rider". Because la jinete or la jineta was sometimes "promiscuous woman".

There were also debates about things like la presidente vs. la presidenta or what the female version of juez should be, whether it should be la juez or la jueza

Most languages with gendered language have varying degrees of this, and all languages I'm aware of have gendered stereotypes related to professions or cultural attitudes in some way, and not just for women, and not all in the same way with some of them being very culturally based

The longer answer involves a bit of history, and I'll be honest, some of it is contested or considered a little controversial in Spanish-speaking countries particularly in the conservative parts (which honestly should come as no surprise)

The first symbol that I know of that came about was the X

First piece of contested history: As far as I know, it was the trans/queer and drag communities in Latin America who started the trend of X. When there were signs or bulletins that had the gendered endings - specifically masculine plural as the default plural - people would write a big X through the O. This was a way of being inclusive and also a very smash the patriarchy move.

Some people attribute this to women's rights activists which may also be true, but a good portion of the things I read from people say it was the trans/queer/drag communities in Latin America doing this.

I've also read it originated in Brazil with Portuguese; still Latin America, but not a Spanish-speaking country.

Where it's most contested is that some people will say that this trend started in the Hispanic communities of the United States. And - not without reason - people are upset that this is perceived as a very gringo movement.

That's why Latinx is considered a very American-Hispanic experience

The arroba (@) is relatively new. I remember seeing it in the 2000s. I don't know if it existed earlier for gender inclusivity.

People used it because it looks like a combination of O and A, so it was meant to be cut down on saying things like todos y todas or niños y niñas in informal written speech

I remember quite a few (informal) emails starting like hola tod@s or muy buenas a tod@s or things like that

I think of it more as convenience especially in the information age where you never knew who you were talking to and it's easier than including both words, especially when masculine plural might be clumsy or insensitive

Still, it's practically impossible to use the @ in spoken Spanish, so it's better for writing casually. You also likely won't be allowed to use the @ in anything academic, but in chatrooms, blogs, or forums it's an option

I love the E ending. And the gender neutral form in singular is elle... so it's él "he", ella "she", and elle "they (singular)"

The -e ending is I think became more common within the past 10 years though it might have existed longer than that. These sorts of changes tend to come from the queer or trans communities and tend to be more insular before becoming more of an outside thing that then the general population finds out about

It came about because there are some adjectives in Spanish that end in -e that are unisex. It's not an A, it's not an O, but it's something grammatically neutral for Spanish

It's not as awkward as X, and E exists very firmly in Spanish so it's not perceived as some outside (typically gringo) influence

The good news is, it's pretty widespread on the internet. Not so much in person (yet), but especially in Spain and Argentina at least from what I've seen, particularly in the queer communities and online culture.

The only issues with it are that for non-native speakers, you have to get used to any spelling changes. Like amigo and amiga, but to use the E ending you have to add a U... so it's amigue.

That's because there are certain words where you have to do spelling changes to preserve the sound; gue has a hard G sound like -go does [like guerra]... but ge has the equivalent of an English H sound [gelatina for example]. Another one is cómico/a "funny" which would go to cómique. Again, because co has a hard C/K sound, while ce is a soft sound more like an S or in some contexts TH/Z sound; like centro is a soft sound, while cola is a hard sound

Unless you make it to the preterite forms where you come across like pagué, alcancé, practiqué with those types of endings... or subjunctive forms, pague, alcance, practique ... Basically you'd have to be exposed to those spelling rules or you'd be really confused if you were a total beginner.

It all makes sense when you speak it, but spelling might be harder before you learn those rules

The other drawback is that the E endings are sometimes not applicable. Like in damas y caballeros "ladies and gentlemen" there's not really a gender neutral variation on that, it's all binary there. And while la caballero "female knight" does exist, you'd never see a male variation on dama; the closest I've ever seen is calling a guy a damisela en apuros "damsel in distress" in some contexts where the man needs rescuing, and it's feminine una/la damisela, and it's very tongue-in-cheek

There are also some contexts like jefe vs jefa where I guess you would say jefe for "boss" if you were going the neutral route, but it's a bit weird because it's also the masculine option.

I can't speak for how people might feel about those if they're non-binary or agender because every so often you kind of get forced into the binary whether you like it or not

I totally support the E, I just recognize there are some limitations there and it's quirks of the Spanish language itself

Important Note: Just to reiterate, E endings are the ones most Spanish-speakers prefer because it's easiest to speak and doesn't have the American connotation that X does in some circles

Where it gets very "Facebook comment section" is that you'll see many Latin Americans traditionalists and conservatives claim that "this is just the gringos colonizing our language" and "grammatical gender doesn't matter in Spanish". They'll say that the "gender movement" is an American feminist movement and that it's a gringo thing and doesn't reflect actual Latin Americans or Spanish-speakers

Which on the one hand, yes, English does have a lot of undue influence on other languages because of colonization, and American influence and meddling in Latin American politics is a big important issue

But as far as I'm aware of the X (and especially the E) were created by Latin Americans

The other issue I personally have is that any time this conversation comes up, someone will say something like somos latinOs and claim that masculine plural is gender neutral

To that I say, first of all, "masculine plural" is inherently gendered. Additionally, there is a gender neutral in Spanish but it's lo or ello and it's only used with "it" so it sounds very unfriendly to use on an actual person... and in plural it looks like masculine plural and everything applies like masculine plural

Second, the reason masculine plural is default is because of machismo. It's more important that we don't possibly misgender a man, so it has to be masculine plural. It's changed in some places, but growing up when I was learning Spanish, if it was 99 women and 1 man you still had to put masculine plural

I'm not opposed to there being a default, and I understand why it's easier to use masculine plural, but some people get very upset at the idea of inclusive language

...

In general, my biggest issues with these comments come when people act like non-binary/queer/trans people don't exist in Spanish-speaking countries, like English invented them somehow. So it's nice to see linguistic self-determination and seeing native speakers using the E endings.

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Not Doing This

Bishop Losa x F!Reader

Part 2 can be found Here

Request from my favorite Bishop fan @masterlistforimagines: You’ve had an attitude all day because Bishop told you no on something. And he got tired of your attitude and told you like with the beef between EZ and Angel, Bishop says “ it’s gone on too long. I don’t care how you do it, work it the fuck out, now”. Also Bishop purposely didn’t let her come or someone called him and interrupted them and when they’re both at the clubhouse, she’s purposely not listening and doing her best to rile him up. Also maybe if they left the house separately, she wears a dress/skirt/shorts that Bishop previously told her she couldn’t wear out of the house

Warnings: language, alcohol, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, Bishop being at the end of his goddamn rope

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I wrote for Bishop, let alone wrote smut for him. Been extremely in my Bishop feelings since all of the S3 footage dropped. Hope y’all enjoy my first real crack at a bit of a bratty reader and fed-up Bishop. xo

Bishop Taglist: @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @garbinge @mayans-sauce @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @arveeee @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop

You huffed quietly from the other end of the couch. It’d been hours since either you or Bishop said anything to each other. You knew that holding on to your frustration wasn’t going to get you anywhere, but you couldn’t help it. The argument was an inconsequential one, but the fact that you lost it made you upset regardless. Bishop might’ve been a graceful winner, but you were a sore loser. You’d been giving him the cold shoulder ever since. A couple times he tried to talk to you about going to the clubhouse later that night, knowing that a couple other charters were going to be in town, but you didn’t respond, or even look at him.

“I’m hitting the road in a few. You coming with me or driving over later?” his tone was even but you could tell that his frustration was building.

You didn’t glance over at him, instead picking up the remote to the television and turning the volume up. You heard him muttering under his breath and it was hard to keep your expression neutral. He walked over and hit the power button on the television, causing the screen to go black. Only then did you finally lift your eyes to look at him.

“I was watching that.”

He scoffed, “Sure you were,” he paused for a moment, “You riding with me or driving yourself later?”

“I’m not going,” you jutted your chin out slightly, knowing just how to continue getting under his skin.

“That wasn’t one of the options,” his voice was flat but you could see the darkness pooling in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “You can’t make me go.”

He stepped in closer to you, towering over you as you sat there on the couch, “Can’t I?”

You stood up, your chest pressing against his, “The tough guy act might work on the boys in the club, but it doesn’t with me, Obispo.”

His hand came up and cupped the side of your face, fingertips pressing just hard enough to let you know that he wasn’t there to play, “It’s not an act, querida.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. You didn’t want him to win a second time, “I’m still not going. El presidente,” you coated his title in sarcasm, “can let all the boys know that he’s flying solo tonight.”

“I don’t know where this attitude came from, but it’s gone on too long,” he pulled your face so your nose was brushing against his, “Sort it out. Now. I don’t care how.”

You pushed his chest with both hands, granting yourself some space between the two of you, “There’s nothing to sort out. Have fun at the party.”

You went to side-step him but he reached out and grabbed your arm. He didn’t pull you backwards, but he wasn’t allowing you to take another step away from him, either. You looked back at him and waited for him to say something.

“There something in particular you want from me, Y/N?” his eyes bore into yours, “Or is pissing me off just a fun pastime of yours?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, “Let go of me, Obispo. We both know you’re not going to do anything.”

His grip on your arm tightened as he closed the distance between the two of you, “You want my attention? That what you wanted? Because you’ve got it now, sweetheart.”

“Don’t act like you know what I want,” you snapped.

His hand slid up your arm and found itself wrapped around your throat. Your expression faltered slightly as his grip tightened. Once he saw you give yourself away, a smirk passed over his lips, “I think I do know, though,” the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat slipped beneath the waistband of your leggings, “This what it’s gonna take to finally get you to drop the fucking attitude?”

“Guess you’ll have to try it and see,” you sounded much more confident than you felt as the feeling left your legs.

He backed you up so that you fell back onto the couch. You couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out past your lips as you collapsed onto the cushions. Bishop’s hands were instantly grabbing at the waistband of your pants, roughly pulling them down. You kicked them off the rest of the way, trying to hide the fact that your body was trembling with anticipation as Bishop dropped to his knees in front of you.

He wasn’t in the mood to waste any time with you. He threw your legs over his shoulders. He bit down hard on your thigh, causing you to moan. His lips dragged along your skin, the stubble on his face causing you to fight the urge to squirm underneath his touch. His lips were just barely touching you—you could feel his breath and a whimper slipped out before you could stop it.

You heard him let out a low, quiet chuckle. Any thoughts that you were about to have, though, got blacked out as he ran his tongue along your folds. You cursed under your breath as your hands instinctively wove themselves into his hair. You lifted your hips, attempting to push him further into you. The more you tried, the farther away he pulled from you. You whined in protest but his only response was to bite down hard on your thigh, enough force for you to know that there was going to be a dark mark there when this was all done with.

You stopped trying to fight him, letting him have control for the time being. Your reward for that was immediate as you felt his tongue circle your clit before he set about sucking on it, causing you to dig your nails into his shoulders.

“Fuck, Bishop,” you moaned, “Don’t stop.”

He hummed in compliance as his lips and tongue continued to move against you. Your entire body trembled and you felt his grip on your thighs tighten as they clenched around his head. You felt one of his hands trace lightly along the wetness of your folds and your body bucked into his touch, begging him for more. He slowly slid his fingers into you, causing you to let out a loud moan. Once he started to curl his fingers inside you, you knew that you weren’t going to last much longer.

He pulled his mouth off of you, shifting so that he was looking up at you, “You gonna behave after this?” he increased his pace, “This what it takes to get you to stop being a fucking brat?”

It was hard to form a coherent thought. You had no words in your head to answer him with. When he saw the blissed out look on your face, he stopped his motions. You whined, lifting your head up to look at him.

“Answer me, querida,” his tone was quiet, but firm.

“Yes,” you forced out, “I’ll be good. Fuck, Obispo, just make me cum.”

He chuckled as he repositioned himself. Your legs were still draped over his shoulders but he slid his jeans and boxers down. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your breathing faltered as he pushed into you with a low moan. He gripped tightly to your hips as he slowly began to thrust into you.

His phone, that had long since been discarded onto the floor, began to go off. You looked at Bishop, who shook his head slightly. You were relieved that he was willing to let it go to voicemail—both of you too desperate to finish what you were in the middle of to let it stop you. Your nails sunk into the skin of his arms as you begged him to continue.

The ringing was incessant, and you saw the exact moment when Bishop made the decision to pick up the call. He let out a sigh as he pulled out of you. You tried to slap the phone from his hands but he was too quick. He was hitting the accept button and pinning it between his shoulder and his ear before you had a chance to do anything. He stood up slowly, pulling his boxers and jeans back up as he did.

You could only hear his half of the conversation, and even that you mostly tuned out. He was walking through the house, quickly gathering up his things and shrugging on his kutte as he got ready to leave. You stayed put on the couch, unable to believe that he answered a call in the middle of everything. You knew that there was a lot happening over the next few days with the club, but still, he was literally inside you and he took a phone call.

He muted himself on the call as he came over and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you at the clubhouse, sweetheart.”

That was all he said as he took off out the door, continuing his conversation. Part of you wanted to stay home just to prove a point, to let him know that your frustrations with him weren’t quelled. If anything they were now intensified. But as you sat there, preparing to spend the evening pouting, you thought of a much better idea.

You hopped up off the couch, gathering your pants off the floor before heading back to your room to get changed and ready to head to the clubhouse for the night. If Bishop was frustrated with you before, he was about to be in for a real treat.

Whatever had been so urgent that Bishop needed to leave you must’ve been handled, because the yard and the clubhouse were both fully alive with the spirit of a party. Members from multiple charters were roaming around, girls on their arms and beers in their hands. You touched up your makeup and took a deep breath before stepping down out of your car.

Bishop was standing on the steps to the clubhouse, talking with a few of the men who had come down from Oakland. His eyes found you and you could tell immediately that he wasn’t happy with what he was seeing. He hurriedly excused himself from the conversation that he was in. His hand was tight around the neck of his beer bottle as he made his way over to you.

Grabbing your arm, he pulled you back towards your car, erasing what little progress you had made. He backed you up against the car, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What?” you replied innocently, “You said you’d see me at the clubhouse. I’m here, aren’t I?”

His eyes raked over you, “What are you wearing?”

You chuckled, running your hands down his chest, “You don’t like it?”

His hands ran up your thighs and over the rough denim of the extremely tight and insanely short shorts that you were wearing. In the past, on multiple occasions, he had told you that you weren’t to wear those within five miles of the clubhouse or the men there would try and eat you alive, himself included. Normally you’d listen, even if you thought he was being ridiculous. But this time, you figured he deserved to sweat it out a little bit.

“You know the answer to that,” he leaned in so his face was practically touching yours, “I thought we were done with this.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I don’t think so.”

“You said—”

“I said,” you cut him off, “that I’d be good if you made me cum. And guess what you didn’t do?” you punctuated each word of that sentence by tapping his chest.

He sighed, shaking his head, “I’m not doing this here.”

“Doing what?” you giggled innocently as you took the beer out of his hand and gave yourself a sip of it, “I’m just here for a party.”

You didn’t give him his beer back, or a change to respond to you, as you sauntered away from him. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked, making sure to put a little extra sway in your hips just to press some salt into the wound. You looked back over your shoulder and flashed a wink and a smile when you saw the disgruntled look on his face.

When you walked into the clubhouse, you were greeted by some of your favorite familiar faces. Angel waved you over to the bar, wrapping you into a hug as soon as you were close enough.

“Damn, Y/N,” he chuckled as he looked you over, “Pres let you leave the house looking like this?”

You laughed and shook your head as you finished what was left of Bishop’s beer, setting the empty bottle onto the top of the bar, “Nope.”

“Oh shit,” he laughed, knowing that there must’ve been something going on that he wasn’t allowed to be privy to.

The man behind the bar had brought you a fresh beer bottle, and you accepted it with a smile. You looked around the clubhouse to see what other members of the Santo Padre charter were around. Angel was talking to you about what the game plan was for the next few days, and for the most part you were listening. Part of you was still stuck thinking about everything that you didn’t get to finish with Bishop earlier. He hadn’t left to punish you, but that’s what it felt like. And payback was about to be a bitch.

Angel’s expression dropped as he looked over your shoulder. You turned to see Bishop walking into the clubhouse, a displeased expression on his face. You smiled sweetly at him as you waved him over, acting as though everything was alright.

“Something I can help with, Bish?” Angel spoke up, trying to pretend that he didn’t have any clue as to what was going on.

“Beat it, Angel,” Bishop nodded to dismiss him.

Angel didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed his beer bottle off the bar and scampered off into the crowd, leaving you and Bishop at the bar. He took a seat on the stool that Angel had just been on. You turned so that you were facing him, eyebrows raised as you waited for him to say something.

“You’re really going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“You know exactly what.”

“Didn’t seem like such a big deal before when you pulled your dick out of me to answer a phone call,” your voice was nonchalant as you lifted the beer bottle to your lips.

Bishop pressed his lips into a thin line as he looked at you. He knew that settling this score wasn’t going to happen here at the clubhouse, and that meant it was going to be an extremely long night for him. You gave him a few moments to speak up, and when he didn’t, you hopped off the stool. You leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his lips before walking over to the pool table where Angel, Coco, and a few of the men from Yuma were locked into a game.

Angel looked back and forth knowingly between you and Bishop. He was waiting to see if Bishop was going to come over and insert himself into the situation, but he stayed seated at the bar. You playfully bumped your hip into Angel’s, knocking the concerned expression off of his face in the process.

As you watched the pool game unfold, you perched yourself up on the edge of the billiard table. You crossed one leg over the other and revealed the bruises and love-bites that Bishop had left all along the inside of your thighs only a few hours before. Angel noticed immediately, trying to respectfully avert his eyes because he wasn’t particularly in the mood to get his ass beat by Bishop. It caught the other men off-guard, though, and they couldn’t help but to gawk for a few moments before recollecting themselves.

You locked eyes with Bishop from across the clubhouse—he’d seen everything. If he was a cartoon, there would’ve been smoke coming out of his ears. You winked at him as you took a sip from the beer bottle in your hand. He might’ve won the battle at home, but you were determined to win the war. You tilted your head, a smirk coming over your features as you sat and waited for him to make his move.

He shook his head slightly at you and you could tell that he was kicking himself, knowing that this was a situation of his own making. It was going to be a long night, and Bishop already couldn’t wait to get you back home so he could put this whole mess to bed once and for all. You knew that once the two of you left the clubhouse you were going to be at his mercy, but for now you were going to enjoy having the liberty of taunting him all night.

You ran your tongue along your bottom lip before hopping off the table. You motioned for Coco to hand over his pool stick, “I’m in this round,” you looked over to Angel, “You and me, Reyes.”

Angel nodded, “Sounds good.”

You leaned over the edge of the pool table to set up the rack. You could sense Bishop’s blood boiling from the other side of the room and you were loving every moment of it. You could see that Angel was biting back a laugh, knowing exactly what you were doing.

You lined up your shot and looked down the table, your eyes meeting Bishop’s. You shot him a wink before taking your shot and breaking the cluster in the center of the table. You leaned idly against your pool stick, nodding to the pair of men to let them know it was their turn to take a shot.

“You’re making quite the mess for yourself, Y/N,” Angel said, trying not to laugh.

You chuckled, shaking your head, “I’ve never been afraid to get a little messy,” you flashed a smile over to Bishop before leaning in to take your next shot.

He was sitting at the bar, white-knuckled around the beer bottle in his hand. You knew what you were going to be in for the second you got home and you couldn’t wait. You bit down on your bottom lip in anticipation just at the thought of it, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn that you saw the faintest hint of a smile cross Bishop’s face as well. You knew you were in for a good night.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #bishop losa #bishop x reader #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa imagine #bishop losa smut #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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calif0rnia-lovers · 4 years ago

Text

big boss.

1a/n: i don't always write smut driven plots, but when i do it's for daddy losa. set in s2 before the shit hit the fan. unedited might be some typos.

pairing: bishop losa x bratty!reader

warnings: 18+ rating: 💦

requested prompt: "What's wrong? I thought you liked teasing."

words: 2.4k

sum: bish has a sit down with the sons scheduled. it's the fifth night in a row that you've gone to bed without your husband. so you try your best to get him home early.

Bishop’s mind is split, torn into what feels like a million pieces. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice your arrival at the clubhouse.

You find him seated at the bar, fingers massaging his temple, his gaze fixated on his never-ending vibrating phone. For the majority of the day, you were responsible for the vibration.

He'd received a barrage of messages from you, all in response to the words he mumbled as he placed a kiss against your forehead this morning.

“I gonna be home late tonight. We’re sitting down at the table. You don’t have to wait up.”

Now, his phone is going off for club related matters.

“There’s my husband,” you smile as you sit his wrapped dinner on the bartop. Your lips press a kiss against his cheek as he reads an incoming message. “I almost forgot what he looks like. I brought your dinner.”

“Thanks,” he sighs.

“All these late nights,” you mumble against the warmth of his skin. “I had to check and make sure you weren’t meeting up with your girlfriend.”

Bishop's eyes roll, a chuckle leaving his lips. "Between you and the M.C., I wouldn't have the energy."

He doesn't object to your hands guiding his lips to yours. The kiss pushes the incoming messages out of his mind, his hands finding your waist. Guiding your body closer, he smiles as you leave a second kiss against his lips.

"I miss you."

The admission comes out soft against his lips. The kiss you leave behind this time tightens his grip, his lips chasing yours as you pull back.

"You too."

"Kinda hard to tell," you sigh, a smile finding your lips as Bishop presses a kiss against the warmth of your neck. "The only time I see you is over breakfast."

"Shit's been--"

"Crazy." You take a step back, slipping out of his grip. The dramatic roll of your eyes brings a smile to your husband's lips. "I know. So crazy, I can't even get in a quickie with my own husband."

Although he chuckles at your teasing, Bishop knows you're right. For the past week, he's gone before you can finish your morning coffee. Only to return when you're already asleep. It's not something he's proud of.

He's in the process of opening his mouth to apologize when you take a second step back.

Bishop’s brow arches, his eyes taking in your appearance--specifically the skirt you wear.

“You went shopping?”

Your eyes drop, your fingers flattening the fabric.

“I did, actually." You smile. You watch as his eyes travel the entire length of the grey pleats. "I stopped by the mall today. My husband hasn’t been around lately, so I had to find some way to keep myself busy.”

Shrugging off his jacket, you lay it across the bar. Taking a step back, you turn in a circle giving Bishop a full look at the mini skirt. By the time you come full circle you dawn a wide smile.

"I figured I try something new."

"It’s definitely...new."

"What?" You fix your lips into a pout as his gaze lifts. "You don’t like it? I was thinking of you when I got it."

Before your husband can string together another word, you turn to catch the eye of a passing Angel.

"What do you think, handsome?"

The question freezes the Mayan in his tracks.

The quest of finding another beer slipping through Angel's mind as he takes in your smile. "About what?"

"My new skirt."

Angel's mouth opens. Thankfully, his brain stalls as his gaze passes over the length of the skirt. His eyes linger on the length of your legs. The inability of his brain to string together a coherent sentence saving him from saying something stupid.

Heat rushes to his face as Angel clears his throat.

"I think you look nice, don't you Bish?" Angel manages as he reaches around you for a beer. His eyes avoid Bishop's as he grabs a second before quickly dismissing himself.

"Well," you smile. "At least somebody thinks I look nice."

"I don’t have time for this," Bishop admits knowing exactly where this will lead.

"What’s new?" you release a dramatic sigh as you step between his legs. "You never have time for me anymore."

"I have this meeting with the Sons--"

"Oh, is that today?" You ask, the heat of your touch seeping through the chest of his shirt. "I thought you said it was tomorrow night."

"Which is why I’d appreciate it if you put your jacket back on."

Although it doesn't drastically improve your appearance. The oversized jacket is enough to distract from the length--or lack thereof--of the skirt you wear.

"No."

It’s a word Bishop Losa rarely hears.

It’s also your favorite word to use against your husband.

“No?”

You shake your head, taking another step back putting a distance between the two of you.

"Then, wait for me at home where the entire club can't see your--"

“Nope,” you say allowing the end to pop, before turning on your heels. “I think I want to stay.”

You reach out, taking the cue stick from a passing Ezekiel.

“You have your meeting. I'll wait for you out here. I’ll just play some pool.” You smile as Bishop's jaw tightens. “Zeke here can keep me company. Right?"

The prospect's gaze lifts from the grey pleats of your skirt.

“Uh—yeah, I mean. I guess if that’s what you want—”

Ez clears his throat as he takes in your wide innocent smile. He glances in your husband's direction. The look in Bishop’s darkened gaze causes the prospect to quickly divert his eyes.

Ez's hand rubs against the back of his neck. “I mean, if it’s alright with Bishop--”

“He'll be fine. You don’t have to ask him for permission, Ez."

Ez quickly retrieves the second cue stick, suddenly focused on lining up a shot.

“Stop playing with the kid,” Bishop’s voice drops as he comes to a stop before you. “He’s my prospect, not your new toy.”

It doesn’t take a genius to understand where this is headed.

Your husband is well versed in your antics, as you are his. The firm squeeze of your hip is a silent warning. A warning that reemphasizes his previous statement

I don’t have time for this.

Between the upcoming meeting, your pouts over breakfast, and round-the-clock sassy texts, his patience is wearing thin.

“Or what, Obispo?” You huff, your weight resting against your cue stick. “You’ll spank me?”

The taunt is enough to lift Bishop’s gaze from the tip of the cigarette he lights. His brow arches as he catches sight of your playful eyes. The unimpressed look on your face earns you the tiniest reaction, the twitching of his lips as he pushes the smoke from his lungs.

“Because if that’s all, let me bend over and make it easy for you,” you laugh as you turn.

Bishop takes a step back as you lean forward, bending over the pool table. The drawn-out act of lining up your shot gives an up-close view of just how short the skirt really is.

His double-take at your arrival was highly warranted.

You can feel the heat of his darkened gaze as it travels along the length of your legs, your new position dragging his tongue across his lips. His eyes pass over your shoulder to the opening door, signaling the early arriving Sons. Releasing a huff, you straighten before turning to face Bishop.

“Put your jacket back on,” he says.

“Is that what you're bringing to the table tonight? I expected a little more intimidation from el Presidente.” Your finger trails down the leather of his kutte, your touch lingering on the worn patch. “What will the boys think if you can’t even handle an old lady? Thought they said you were the big boss.”

For a brief second, the sight of you looking up at him through your lashes, push his arriving brothers out of Bishop's mind. His hand finds the base of your throat, his thumb tipping your chin back so that your gaze meets his.

The look you find weakens your knees. It’s what you’re looking for, the sight of it pulling your lips towards his. A pout settles on your lips as Bishop leaves them cold. Instead, he pauses to place a kiss against your forehead.

“Behave.”

There is one cardinal rule your husband expects you to follow when the doors to Templo are closed.

Do not interrupt--unless it is life or death.

This is why Bishop stops midsentence when the doors slide open.

Bishop wishes he could say he's surprised, but he's not when he glances away from Hank to find you standing in the doorway.

“I just figured the boys might want a drink after making the drive here.”

Ez stands behind you, a case of beer in his hands. His face is visible over your shoulder. He hopes the telepathic message sent to your husband is received.

I told her no--or, I tried to.

One moment Ez was shaking his head and chuckling, "I don't think it's a good idea, you know how Bish gets--" the next, he was carrying a case of beer into the lion's den for you.

“We are the hosts after all,” you smile, not waiting for your husband’s permission.

Ez distributes his beers as fast as he can. You take your time, your husband's eyes following you with each passing second.

By the time you’ve reached the head of the table, there is one drink left to distribute.

“And something special for the boss.”

His eyes study the sweet, innocent smile on your lips as you place the shot of whiskey down alongside the gavel.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

All of the men throw in a word of appreciation. A mixture of "thank you" and "appreciate it" filling the air as you cross the room. Not a single man is foolish enough to glance up from the beer in their hands until they hear the door slide shut.

Hank is the first to file out. He has a mixture of humor and pure admiration on his face as he meets your gaze. It is a look you’ve both grown accustomed to over the years. The one that comes each time he sees you are bold enough to push his best friend's buttons. Which is entirely too often.

“He wants to see you,” he shares, his head shaking as you pass.

You find your husband in the same spot you left him fifteen minutes prior. Seated at the head of the table. Only his whiskey is gone, and he’s got a freshly lit cigarette between his lips. His eyes lift from the zippo in his hand as you pull the door shut.

“I’ve been summoned?” Pushing your weight off the door, you start your journey around the table. Your finger traces over the wood, your gaze lifting to his. "I take it the meeting went well. It didn’t last long."

"Thought you'd sound a little more excited now that it's over."

"Only if you got what you wanted," you respond coming to a stop alongside him.

"You got something you wanna show me?” He asks, tossing his lighter onto the table.

"What makes you say that?"

Instead of answering your question, he nods to the table.

"Bend over."

Your head shakes as you take a seat on the table before him. Your palms rest against the table, your left foot settling on his armrest. A wave of heat covers you from head to toe as Bishop's gaze travels the length of your leg.

A smile finds your lips as his touch ghosts the curve of your calf.

The response is premature. Bishop takes a drag of his cigarette before repeating his previous demand.

"Bend over."

You heed his order, a smile finding your lips as the legs of his chair drag across the floor. The heat of his palm drags the length of your outer thigh, a smile finding his lips as he puts out his cigarette.

"Tell me," he asks, his touch drifting between your thighs. "What couldn't you wait, till I got home, to show me?"

Your teeth tug at your bottom lip as his thumb teasingly pass over the lace covering your clit.

"It's gotta be beautiful," he continues, his touch sending shockwaves through your body as he traces the pattern of the fabric. "The way you were trying to show it off in front of the whole fucking club."

"Why don't you see for yourself?" You breathe, your hips shifting to increase the pressure of his touch.

The red fabric brings a grin to your husband's lip. It is a color he can never resist when paired against your skin.

"Do you like it?"

Bishop doesn't rush to answer your question. Each roll of his thumb meticulous, as he unzips his jeans.

"I do," he places a soft kiss against your shoulder.

Your body tenses in anticipation as the head of his cock teases your slick folds. A soft whimper fills the air as he denies you what you want. Instead of pushing inside, he allows his tip to rub the length of your folds. He repeats the process until your mind has lost count, the trembling of your thighs arching his brow. As you shift your hips back, he pulls a grunt of frustration from your lips.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he chuckles, his grip presses against your spine pinning you in place. "Hm? I thought you liked teasing...this isn't a reward, you don't get to pick how you get it. "

He slides into you in one fluid motion. Bishop's thrusts are not as sweet as your pet name. They are deliberate, pushing into you at a fast and harsh pace. His hips snap into you with a relentless force, his grip bruising your skin.

The edge of the table is the only anchor you're able to find as your body succumbs to the pleasure only he can bring. It doesn't take long for the muscles of your body to tense.

"You wanna cum, sweetheart?" he grunts, his words rasping with every thrust.

“Yes--fuck, Bish,” you manage. The words pass breathlessly, your mind struggling to string together a coherent plea. “Please--”

The pleas spilling from your lips are lost to a gasp as he pulls out of you.

“Since you’ve been trying to get me there all day,” he breathes. “You can wait till you get home.”

Your husband’s chuckle drowns out your whimpered protest. He catches your wrist as you attempt to finish where he’s left off, pinning it flat against the table.

“You don’t have time for that,” he assures you, the wave of pleasure he’s built already slowly beginning to ebb away. “You got something else you need to do first.”

He releases your wrist, his hands moving to pull your skirt back into place. The moment he’s finished, Bishop steps back allowing you to stand.

Turning to face him, you watch as he settles back into his chair. The smile on Bishop's lips morphs into a grin, his playful gaze watching you bite your lip. The desire to disobey his demand only seems to increase with each slowly passing second. The shifting of your weight pulls a chuckle from his lips.

“For making me cut my meeting short,” his head cocks to the side. His eyes pass over your heaving chest before he smiles. “I think that pretty mouth of yours owes me fifteen minutes.”

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chibsytelford · 4 years ago

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The Patient

A/N - Another idea that came to me and I wanted to write it down. Some Bishop fluff / fun to make up for the recent Bishop angst!

Join my groupchat for updates - here ❣

When you got the call from Hank telling you that Bishop was in hospital your mind went into overdrive. Hank didn't explain much, just that Bishop was fine but your presence was required before the doctor would release him.

On the drive over you wondered what could have possibly landed Bish in hospital. Was he shot? Stabbed? Did he fall off his bike? The many questions ran through your mind.

You pulled up at the hospital, parked the car and headed inside. "Obispo Losa" you told the receptionist and he pointed to a corridor to your left. You smiled and thanked him and headed down the corridor. As you turned the corner you saw the guys hanging around outside the door, minus EZ and Hank who you assumed were in the room.

"Yo Y/N, come to get the whiny bitch?" Angel snickered bumping shoulders with Coco like he was back in school.

"Real mature Reyes" you laughed rolling your eyes and entering the room where Bishop was. You noticed he had his leg in plaster cast and it was propped up in the air. You looked at Bishop and smiled sympathetically.

"Thank you for coming sweetheart. I'm tired of dealing with the kids" he smiled gesturing to the men. "I had to get the nurse to kick them out. Idiots were fighting to sign my cast"

You laughed at that statement, expecting nothing less from the guys. "What happened?"

You stood by Bishop's side, lifting his hand and squeezing it. He shrugged. "I fell down the clubhouse stairs and broke my leg" he muttered embarrassed. You pinched his cheeks and couldn't hold back your smile.

"The big bad president falling down stairs?" You laughed "I would have paid to see that"

He smiled. "The joke's on you sweetheart, you have to look after me" he stated. And he was right. You secretly dreaded it, because Bishop was very independent and rarely needed or wanted help, and you just knew he was going to be a bad patient.

The doctor came in and introduced herself, shaking your hand. "He's free to go now. And so is everyone else" she announced and you knew that she was happy to see the back of the guys. "He should be on bedrest for a while. I'll give you some crutches home for him and hopefully he'll manage with them. If not, give us a call and we can see about sending you a wheelchair" you locked eyes with Bishop who was quick to object about using a wheelchair. You put your fingers to your lips in a 'be quiet' gesture.

"Thank you for looking after him, and putting up with everyone else" you smiled sympathetically at the doctor.

She smiled back and rolled in a wheelchair for you to push Bishop outside with. "No way am I going in that querida" Bishop announced shaking his head.

"It's the rules Obispo. And we all know that rules are rules" you challened him, lifting your eyebrows. He knew better to argue with you so he nodded his head. Hank and Angel (who had came into the room to see the doctor) helped him up and placed him gently in the wheelchair. "Wheels up" you joked and headed for the exit.

You got Bishop into the car with help from the guys, and they followed you home to make sure he got into the house. Once out the car, you handed Bishop the crutches and he manouvered to the front door. He struggled a little bit but he wouldn't admit it to anyone. You gestured for him to sit on the sofa and you put a chair in front of him and placed a pillow on top, gently propping his leg up on it. "Can I get you anything? A beer? Food?" You asked also placing a pillow behind him so he was propped up.

"My dignity" he muttered solemnly.

"Well, you'll learn to be more careful then, won't you?" You replied ruffling his hair.

You fetched Bishop 2 beers and opened them both, placing them on the table beside him. "Don't hurt your arm reaching for them" you teased. You couldn't help it. He looked like a little lost boy sitting helpless on the sofa, and it was fairly amusing.

"I hate this already" he pouted. "I'm El Presidente, not a patient"

"Well, your cast states otherwise" you pointed out. "Now, lets watch The Notebook" you excitedly clapped and picked up the TV remote, finding the movie and putting it on. You moved Bishop's crutches away so he couldn't reach them. It was probably a bit mean, but it was rare that you spent a night with him watching movies.

"I know what you're doing" he spoke. You raised your eyebrows at him questioningly. "Moving the crutches away so I can't walk out the room during the movie".

You gave him a big innocent smile. "Me?" You feigned hurt. "I would never do such a thing Obispo Losa. Now be quiet, it's starting".

@rebelwrites @mrsmarvelous1995 @everyhowlmarksthedead @mayans-sauce @yourwonkywriter @encounterthepast @est1887 @angelreyesgirl @anangelwhodidntfall @talicat713 @withmyteeth @scuzmunkie @sheeshgivemeabreak @kid-from-new-zealand @louisianalady @blessedboo @queenbeered @calif0rnia-lovers @meteora-fc @angelreyesisdaddy04 @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @jasminee97 @trulysuccubus @jadesamhart

#bishop losa #bishop losa x reader #mayans mc #bishop losa fanfic

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clanoffetts · 4 years ago

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Don’t Call Me That | Bishop Losa x fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, Bishop is kind of a dick this season but it’s ok he just needs therapy and to stop killing people (but won’t go so reader is his therapy)

Summary: Bishop’s been neglecting his girl lately. One night, after a week of Bishop bailing on your plans, Bishop breaks down and you try to solve your issues.

Bishop’s nights at the clubhouse have been getting longer and longer. And every time he comes home, loud in his drunkenness, you feign sleep. Little does he know, you can’t sleep when he’s out that late. Not since the attacks on the club that left Coco a half-blind mess and Riz dead. And every morning before you left for work, you’d tell him, “I’m going to make dinner tonight. I’d like it if you came home in time to eat with me.”

And he says, “I will try, querida,” or “You know I try my best, querida.” But he doesn’t, because if he did he would walk through the door at anytime before 10 o’clock to eat dinner with his girlfriend. He could always leave after, and go be with the club. You knew it was important for him to have a kind of omnipresence, being El Presidente and all, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Tonight was no different. Pasta cooked, plate fixed, wine poured, you sat on the couch. Alone. The first night you’d set the table, made Bishop’s plate, set out some beers with your wine, but you soon realized that was a lot of work going to waste.

You’d cleaned the kitchen, boxed up the leftovers, showered and crawled into bed when Bishop got home around 2 am. Tonight he caught you off guard, you didn’t have time to turn the lamp and TV off so you could pretend to be unbothered in your sleep. “Querida?”

You look to the door and see him standing there. “Obispo,” you acknowledge him with bare minimum before looking back at the TV.

In your peripheral you watch him take off his kutte, then his shirt, his shoes, his jeans. Left in his boxers, he climbs up on the mattress. His breath doesn’t smell of alcohol tonight, just cigarettes. “How was your day?” he asks, reclining next to you with his hands behind his head.

“It was fine,” you reply, still trained on the TV even though a commercial was on. “How was your, Obispo?”

“Will you stop calling me that?”

You laugh a little. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he says. “But you don’t call me that.” His hand searches for yours but you move it to run through your hair, and you can almost see the look on his face. A kind of fear Bishop Losa does not often convey.

You shut off the TV. “I’m tired,” you say. “And obviously you are too, Obispo, if you think I shouldn’t call you by your name.”

“Querida,” he says. “Will you look at me?” His voice is soft now, his tiredness and fear coming through. You can’t help it, you turn your head and look at him. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not,” you reply, almost choking on your own lie.

He shakes his head. His hand finally finds yours. “You only call me Obispo when you’re mad.”

“I don’t know what you want me to call you, Obispo, if not your name.”

There’s a flash of anger in his eyes but it’s gone with the next blink of his eyes. “Don’t play dumb,” he demands. “You call me Bishop, at the very least. You call Bish, or B, or love. Not Obispo.”

You suck in a breath before answering, “Ok, Bishop, now can I go to bed?”

His hand comes up to your cheek to keep you looking at him. His other squeezes your hand tighter. “I know I’ve been missing dinner, but the MC is such a mess right now and we’ve got a big plan-“

“The plan is more important than me?” You cut him off. “You can’t spare an hour to come home and eat with your girlfriend? You could always come here and go back. All I want is you to show me you care.”

When you finally stop talking, you have tears rolling down your face. Bishop’s eyes are welling with tears, and you can tell he’s trying to stop them from falling. “It’s ok to be vulnerable, Bish,” you whisper. He still has such trouble being vulnerable with you, but you know it’s not his fault.

At the return of his nickname, he breaks. He falls into your arms and you let him. You don’t know what’s happening with the Mayans, you know it’s illegal and you know it’s scary and that’s all. But whatever this big plan was, it was taking a toll on your Bish.

“You’re right, querida, you’re right,” he murmurs. “And I do care, so much, and I need to show you that. I’m so sorry.”

Your hands massage his scalp as he finally lets sobs rack his body, this has been a long time coming. “Shh,” you try to comfort. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t be so passive aggressive. I should’ve told you I was upset.”

He pulls away from you, hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. There’s so much pain. “I love you, querida,” he says. “And I’m going to make sure you know it. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning and when you come home I’ll make you dinner and we’ll eat together and then...I don’t know what else,” he’s almost out of breath from his rambling. “Whatever you want, we’ll do it.”

Your heart melts. You haven’t completely forgiven him, there are some things that just need time. But you reach a hand out to his cheek, running it down to his chin where his beard has started to gray. “I love you, too, Bish,” you whisper. “We both have things to work on. Together.”

He nods, and the next thing you know his lips are on yours. The amount of raw emotion in the kiss takes your breath away, both of your cheeks are still wet from tears, your hands grope at each other in a fit of pure passion.

When you pull away you hold his head in your hands. “We’ll get through this. You’ll get through whatever the club is doing.”

“And I’ll get through it by making more time for you, querida,” he whispers. “I need you. More than I’d like to admit.”

You laugh a little at his stubbornness. This was your Bish. “You also need rest more than you’d like to admit.” You lean over and turn off the lamp before laying down and cuddling him into your chest. “Let me take care of you sometimes, Bish. Like I said, we both need to work on some things.”

“Alright, querida,” he whispers. “Love you.”

He’s already snoring before you can respond.

#bishop losa #obispo losa #bishop losa fluff #bishop losa angst #?#bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfic

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beeroses · 4 years ago

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My demons, they’re numerous

OKAY... so this took a turn. I knew when I saw the picture where I wanted to go for this very new @rebelwrites FanFic Friday, but hell I was thinking a very short drabble... not this.. Oh well, I’m blaming El Presidente and his presidential face for this.. !! Gif credits to the maker, Bishop’s face credit to Michael Irby and whoever wanted to break my heart and all Mayans characters to Kurt Sutter and Elgin James!

Warnings: Language, Bishop’s story is sad and Angel’s a dickhead, what else is new.

You were in Santo Padre to see some family, the Reyes family actually. Zeke (as you’ve called him since you were kids and you weren’t buying on that EZ thing) and Angel were your cousins first or second removed, you never actually counted, because they’ve always felt more like your brothers. Of course you guys didn’t live anywhere close to each other and couldn’t see one another as frequently as you’d wished, but the feelings and love you had for them were fraternal.

You slept at Angel’s place, since EZ lived like a hobo (your exact words) and you enjoyed your time spent with all 3 of your Reyes men, even Grumpy McGrumperson Felipe. You never actually cared for what the boys were doing : you went to see Ezekiel when he was in prison and never once asked what happened and why. You didn’t care about the Mayans or the Cartel or anything related. You cared that your brothers were happy and alive and enjoyed every single minute you could spend time with them.

Which led you to being invited to the junkyard, to have a beer and get introduced to their own brothers. Although being a little nervous as you’ve never actually crossed the line to step into their world, you were happy they wanted everyone to meet you. That’s actually how it was phrased too:

- I can’t wait for the guys to meet you, they’ll love you, you’ll see!

- Sure hope they don’t love her too much either, Angel added, pulling out is Big Bro’ instincts.

They were ridiculous, but you loved them to no end. Being only slightly older than Zeke meant you were basically sandwiched between the 2 of them, at all times. It was that way when you were 7 and it still is. You never actually managed to make a relationship survive passed meeting the both of them.

You took the spare helmet and climbed on Zeke’s bike, behind him, and you guys drove off the the Junkyard. Ever since Angel got his first bike, you begged and pleaded everytime you were with them to ride, as you loved the feeling of rolling around, against the wind, one these powerful machines.

Once you’ve arrived, you saw a couple of men standing outside, on the porch, smoking and talking. You got up from the motorcycle and walked next to Angel to the door. You got introduced to Coco, Gilly, Taza, Hank and Chucky when you turned around and came face to face to a stunning, revoltingly Beautiful man standing in front of you. His dark eyes scanning your face, trying to figure out who you were and what you were doing there. On his patch you read «El Presidente» and actually felt your knees give a little. Angel gave you his attention again, after ordering at the bar and introduced you to Bishop, president of the Mayans and stunningly gorgeous gentleman standing there. You managed to push your hand towards his to shake it but instead, he took it to gently kiss your knuckles, some mischievous sparkle in his eyes that made actual fireworks explode in your stomach. Angel sensing the tension next to him, he pulled you almost violently from Bishop pretexting some people he wanted you to meet to get you away as fast and far as possible.

But as the night went on, Angel got drunk by the second and stopped caring where you were and who you were with. Zeke had went back to see Gaby so you were left to enjoy a little bit of freedom.You went to the bar and asked for a beer and looked around. Nowhere could you see «El Presidente», no matter how hard you looked for him. You turned around to grab your beer that was put on the counter when your hand came in contact with another hand, holding your beer bottle.

- Deep thoughts there, Querida, Bishop said with a charming smile.

- Ohh yeah, I guess I was, huh… you got nervous since you’ve been caught in action of actually looking for him and got even more nervous once you realized you were still holding his hand.

You let go, smiling while looking at the floor. He dropped your beer, laughing and you took a full swig of it, trying to drown your shyness. His deep brown eyes staring at you deeply, trying to figure you out. You couldn’t bear keep up with his gaze, it was far too intimidating. He had a smirk tugging at his lips, still. As the night went on, the two of you actually managed to talk, you drank a little more and it made you looser than you had been. At some point, you took a look around the room and realized almost everyone had left, including Angel, your ride back to his place. Seeing the way you looked around the room, Bishop followed the trail of your eyes to come to the same conclusion you did : Angel split and forgot you were there.

- Looks like your ride forgot to take you with… he said, laughing.

- Yeah, I didn’t expect any less from him, to be honest.. I’m gonna call him so he comes back.

- Don’t bother, Querida, I’ll take you back to his place, no worries.

And you took off, with the most handsome man you’ve met, ever, and realized, once stepping out the door, you’d actually had to cuddle his back and hold on to his waist since he rode to the party. He sat down and so did you, very loosely putting your arms around him when he pulled on them to tighten your grip, as you heard him chuckle.

- Wouldn’t want to lose you, Sweetheart, he explained, as you could actually hear his smirk.

You rode to Angel’s place, enjoyed the fresh Santo Padre night air and Bishop’s cologne hitting your nose gently as you fought with your instinct to lay your head on his shoulder. Once there, you got off and gave back his helmet to the President as you thanked him again for the ride. He pull your hand towards his lips to kiss your knuckle gently, once again bringing fireworks and butterflies and all kinds of flying stuff in your stomach. You took back your hand and managed to walk to Angel’s front door in sort of a straight line, trying not to fall in front of Bishop. Once you opened it, you heard who Angel DIDN’T forget to bring home moaning and screaming «Oh Yeah’s» and «Keep Going’s». You shut the door quickly, turning around and feeling extremely grateful that Bishop was an old school gentleman and that he waited for you to be inside before leaving. You spedwalk back to his bike and his confused look.

- So, Angel also forgot that I was gonna come back at some point and brought someone else home instead of me… Any hotel names come to mind that I could go to and avoid scarring my brain for the rest of my life?

The genuine laugh you got from Bishop made you want to kiss him straight away (or was it the whiskey you had?) but you held on. He gave you back his helmet and motioned for you to get on. You sat back behind him and let him drive off. After a while, you came to a halt in front of an house and you looked at Bishop, puzzled, as you got off the bike. And he laughed, explaining :

- It’s my house, there’s a guestroom and all, you’ll be better than at the hotel, and I promise, you’re the only one I brought here tonight!

You chuckled at his joke and nodded, your palms getting extremely sweaty at the fact the man just brought you to his place. He held the door for you and showed you the way to the guestroom. The house was very scarcely decorated, but it suited him nicely. He tossed you an old t-shirt, if you wanted to change and left you, wishing you sweet dreams. You changed and cradled in the comfy bed, letting yourself slowly fall in dreamland.

- NO, DON’T PLEASE DON’T. IT CAN’T BE, HE CAN’T BE. NOT HIM, ANYONE BUT HIM, PLEASE. DON’T LET HIM DIE, DON’T LET HIM, PLEASE

You jerked off the bed when you heard Bishop screaming bloody murder, further down the hall. Only listening to your instincts, you followed the sound of his voice to his bedroom, thinking something terrible must be happening. You opened the door and saw him in bed, sweating and kicking around but still asleep. You approached the President slowly, thinking that he might not enjoy the fact you’re seeing him like this, right now. You gently put your hand on his shoulder, running your thumb on his shoulder blade soothingly, shushing him so he’d calm down. You sat down on the edge of the bed but the dip it caused jerked him awake. He looked at you, wild eyed, while you stopped moving your thumb and probably stopped breathing as well.

- What happened.. ? he trailed off.

- You were screaming bloody murder, Bishop, I was scared something was happening but when I got in.. I think you were dreaming but shit, it didn’t look fun.. I’m sorry, I’ll go, I just, wanted to make sure you were good, you know… you breathed, shakily, trying to leave.

- Don’t go.

- What? You turned around swiftly, looking straight into his gorgeous dark orbs.

- Don’t go.. he breathes, looking down but you noticed the glossiness in his eyes.

You sat back down, silently, and felt his hand slip in yours. You looked back at him. He looked deep in thoughts but calmer then before so you went for it :

- Are you okay, Bish? You asked, genuinely worried but not wanting to pry.

- I’m having these nightmares, Querida. But they’re not nightmares, they’re memories. I fight them off during the day but at night, that’s when the demons crawl out, you know. And mine, they’re numerous.

So you sat there, on his bed, and listened to his story, the story of another life, when he moved to Santo Padre with wife and kid. And how the accident took him everything, including his wife, metaphorically and his kid, physically. You listened to him for a very long time, the both of you sitting comfortably against the headboard, as he never let go of your hand. You didn’t actually know if he realized you were still there, but it certainly felt like it was a much needed conversation, whoever he was having it with. After a while, you sat comfortably in silence and the both of you ended falling in a much needed sleep. You woke up feeling something move beside you, having slightly forgotten where you were. You felt Bishop’s arm around your waist and let out a breathy laugh.

- I’m sorry Querida… he let go of you and pushed away. I dropped all of this on you, I just, I haven’t felt compelled to tell this to anyone before.. It felt… natural with you. Thanks for being a good sport and going with it..

He was looking intensely at the ceiling, trying to ignore your presence, even though he was talking to you. You turned around and wrapped your arm around his waist.

- The way you screamed last night, all I wanted to do was make it better, make everything better, Bish. I’m glad you felt like you could share this with me.

He turned to look in your eyes, trying to find a joke or mocking in them but all he got was honesty and truth. He took your hands in his and kissed your knuckles once again, making you laugh wholeheartedly.

- I may never be able to let you go now, Querida… he trailed, testing the waters.

- Well sure, I mean, I know too much now!

He let out a genuine laugh, closing his eyes and you took your shot and laid a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth. He stopped laughing altogether and turned his head to face you. He searched your eyes for any doubts or regrets but found nothing, absolutely nothing of that. So he slowly leaned towards you and put his lips around yours in a slow and powerful kiss.

- Don’t let me go Bishop, you whispered when you pulled away.

- I really don’t think I can, Querida.

#Bishop #bishop losa #bishop losa x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc stories #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc writer #obispo losa #obispo bishop losa #fanfic friday #bishop fanfiction #bishop losa one shot #bishop losa fanfic #beeroses writing #angel reyes #angel is a douchebag in this #sorry not sorry #ez reyes #reyes family

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brattyfics · 4 years ago

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— until we meet again, preciosa

PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)

SUMMARY || She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).

WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside it’s the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesn’t enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.

Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.

She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for ‘maintenance’.

Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayans’ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Don’t ask, don’t tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. There’s no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angel’s baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.

“Why don’t you put all that time and energy into something that’ll get you somewhere?” Being a musician wasn’t an acceptable career in her mother’s eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughter’s dreams. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise!” Staring out into the street, she can’t help but wonder where she would’ve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.

Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars weren’t his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.

Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat h’orderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. You’re beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.

For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didn’t think of herself as materialistic, but she couldn’t deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for more—time, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.

Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out your way.” Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadn’t heard him come outside; didn’t expect him to venture up into her personal space.

Isis’ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didn’t look impressed. He hated being Galindo’s delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, he’d also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a lover’s skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Don’t make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balcony’s edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.

Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesn’t let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But she’s all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He can’t think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. “You mind?” She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.

When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.

Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. It’s nice to be seen, especially when you’re the princess locked up far, far away from everyone you’ve ever known. She’s a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodness’ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.

With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what she’s been wanting to for months.

“Stay?”

Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.

Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. “Fuck.” If Miguel ever found out… But he already knew what his answer would be. He’d been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.

The subtle tension between them, he wasn’t even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling could’ve blinded her to all other men. But it didn’t.

When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldn’t resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.

He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he can’t.

She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairy’s gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful “Until we meet again, preciosa” line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once 😂 I’m really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently 🥴

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes @amorestevens

MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment

#mayans mc #bishop losa x oc #miguel galindo x oc #bishop losa x ofc #bishop losa x black!ofc

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lilacyennefer · 4 years ago

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A Future with You Part II

A/N: Had to write some fluffy dad Angel after this week’s episode which broke my heart. That’s it.

WARNING: none, just dad!Angel being the cutest

Part 1

“Angel, are you sure it’s going to be fine?” You ask your boyfriend, worried.

It’s been months since Angel and Luke met, and ever since then the two of them were inseparable, but you were always worried to leave Luke with anyone.

But now, kindergarten was closed, and you had to go to work, but you couldn’t take Luke with you.

That’s when Angel offered he would take care of him, he said it would be dumb to pay for someone to do it, when he can do it for free.

You trusted Angel, but you were always nervous to leave Luke with anyone, and Angel wasn’t an exception.

“Yeah! He can meet with Pops, and the rest of the club.”

The next day you dropped off Luke at the clubhouse, Angel was already waiting for him to arrive.

“Angel!!” Luke particularly jumped out of the car to run to the biker, who was waiting for him with open arms, hugging, and lifting Luke up when the child reached him.

“We are going to have so much fun today! Just us, boys.” You could hear the excitement in Angel’s voice.

“Can I ride your bike?” Luke asks excitedly, a question he asks at least twice a day.

“Absolutely not.” You say before Angel could reply.

“When mami can’t see it.” Angel whispers loud enough for you to heart it, watching your reaction, and sending a wink to your way.

You shake your head “It’s not funny.”

“Mi dulce, it’s going to be fine! Worst case scenario, I’ll call you for some help.”

“Alright.” You sigh, handing Luke’s backpack to Angel “Everything that he needs is in the backpack.”

“I love you.” Angel hugs you closer with his left arm, while holding Luke in his right.

“I love you too.” You smile up at him, then look at Luke, playfully pinching his cheeks “and I love you, my precious little boy.”

“I love you too, mami!” He replies, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“Well, since we are the early birds,” Angel starts after you said goodbye, and drove away. “Would you like to meet with my Pops?”

Angel could sense the nervousness in his own voice, wondering if the toddler could hear it too.

“Your Pops?” Luke asks curiously.

“My father.” Angel nods. “Then we can come back, and you can meet with my brothers.”

The toddler agreed to Angel’s plans, he excitedly walked to the Reyes Carnicería, holding the biker’s hand in his tiny one.

“Hey, Pops!” Angel greets the oldest Reyes loudly as he steps into the shop, making Felipe turn around to see his oldest son standing there, with a child that’s not his. Or at least he never saw the boy, so Felipe suspected it’s not Angel’s child.

“Where did you get that child?” Felipe asked his oldest son.

“This is Luke.” Angel answers as he picks up the little boy “My girlfriend’s son. I wanted you to meet with him.”

Felipe was surprised at both the fact that Angel had a girlfriend, sure, he knew that his sons were popular with girls, but Angel hadn't brought home a girl to him ever since he was a teenager. He was also surprised at the fact that he would date someone who has a child, and he’d take responsibility for them.

The oldest Reyes man walked out from behind his counter to introduce himself properly to the small boy.

“I’m Felipe.” He reached his hand out for him, the toddler immediately took his hand to gently shake it.

“I’m Luke!”

“I hope my son takes good care of you.” Felipe notes.

Even though Luke was only 4 years old, he could feel the air shift between the older men, making him wrap his arms protectively around Angel’s neck.

“He does!” He states confidently, protecting Angel without actually really knowing.

Angel felt extremely grateful for the little boy, who loved him unconditionally, looked up at him, and admired him, he looked at Angel like someone who’s worthy of love, of believing in, and he’s not someone who constantly fucks things up.

Yes, Angel Reyes was a good father, because Angel looked at himself as Luke’s father, although he never called him a dad. But he was proud of being a good father.

Felipe nods at the toddler’s statement, but Angel still hasn't said anything, as Felipe’s words stung him.

“I just wanted you to meet with Luke.” Angel says, ready to leave the shop, and forget his father’s reaction.

“You could bring your girl and the little boy to dinner once.” Felipe says as he walks back to behind his counter.

“Will do.” Angel nodded, then they said goodbye.

They walked on the streets of Santo Padre, hand in hand, since Luke loved to hold people’s hands, it made him feel secure, when Angel felt the little boy tug his arm, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“You know I love you, right?” Luke looked up at the biker, and Angel could feel his heart fill with love, and his insecure thoughts that his father’s words caused in him, to go away.

“I love you too, little one.” Angel replied, making the toddler smile.

“Good. Mommy loves you too, and me too.” He notes as they keep walking.

On their way back to the clubhouse, they picked up some breakfast for the MC, since they were probably already arriving at the clubhouse.

When they arrived, Angel could see Taza’s bike parked outside, suddenly he was nervous to have Luke by his side, not knowing how the club would react.

His nervousness increased when EZ stepped outside from his trailer, looking at his older brother surprised.

“Yo, boy-scout!” Angel yelled as he walked towards his little brother.

“Boy-scout.” Luke whispered, making Angel chuckle.

EZ walked closer, meeting with them halfway, grabbing the edge of his kutte when he stopped.

“Little bro, meet with Luke. He’s Y/N’s son.” Angel says nervously, making EZ raise his eyebrows from the surprise, since he didn’t know she had a son.

“Hi Luke.” EZ squats down with a smile on his face “I’m Ezekiel, but everyone calls me EZ.”

“You are Angel’s little brother?”

“I am.”

Luke looks up at Angel then says “I want a little brother too!”

The Reyes brothers looked at each other, trying to hide their snickers.

“Yeah, you have to talk to your mom about that.” Angel says.

He knew he was ready to expend their family, but you thought it was too early for that yet.

Only life had other plans.

“Brought some food.” Angel says while lifting the bag full of burritos.

EZ couldn’t reply as the loud roaring of the motorcycles filled the air, making Luke hide behind Angel’s legs just like he did with you when he met with Angel for the first time.

It’s time, Angel thought, his brothers are about to meet with his significant other’s son.

The MC members parked their bikes, Luke was watching them carefully from behind Angel.

“Are you sick Angel? Being up so early?” Bishop asks the oldest Reyes brother as he walks towards him.

“Nah.” Angel shrugs, shaking his head, unintentionally reaching his hand behind himself to Luke.

Angel’s movement didn’t go unnoticed by Bishop, making El Presidente look behind the younger biker, noticing the small boy standing behind him.

“Who’s that?” Bishop asks, nodding towards the little boy.

Unlike his father’s, Bishop’s voice didn’t have any malecy in it.

“Luke.” Angel calls for the toddler “It’s okay, let me introduce you to my brothers.”

“They’re all your brothers?” Luke asks Angel, his curiosity making him step forward from behind Angel.

“This,” Angel taps the front patch on his kutte “means brotherhood. Despite the fact that we are not related by blood, we are still brothers for life.”

Luke listened to his words carefully, but before he could say something to Angel, the man spoke again.

“This is Luke.” He introduced the little boy to the whole club, who were watching him. “Y/N’s son.”

The whole club greeted Luke with such warmness, it made both the little boy and the biker smile.

Angel led the toddler into the clubhouse, sitting down at one of the tables with Luke in his laps, while the others were fighting over the food he bought.

“Hey!” Angel yelled at his brothers “One of them is mine, shitheads!”

Angel didn’t realise he cursed until Luke’s tiny hand covered his mouth, making the biker look down at him surprised.

“No bad words.” Luke scolded Angel.

“I’m sorry.” The biker smiled down at the little boy.

“Angel.” Luke whispered “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Alright, okay.” Angel said while he put down Luke “Can you go alone or—“

“I’m not a child, Angel.” Luke stops him with a hand gesture that reminded Angel so much of you.

Angel raised his eyebrows with a chuckle “Okay.”

Bishop joined Angel at the table, placing a burrito in front of the younger biker.

“It’s good to see you like this, you know.” Bishop says honestly “Peaceful and happy.”

“Thank you, Bish.”

Angel tried to not show it, but Bishop’s words meant a lot to him, especially after the lack of support and interest from Felipe’s side.

Luke happily ran back to Angel, holding his hands out to the biker, making him sniff his soap scented hands, something that Luke always does to signal that he washed his hands.

The toddler sits back on Angel’s lap as he starts eating his breakfast, while casually chatting with Bishop, Luke listening to their conversation.

“Can I get some?” Luke asks Angel, pointing at his food.

Angel nods, his mouth is full with food, as he holds the burrito to Luke. The little boy takes a big bite out of Angel’s breakfast, making the adults chuckle as he starts chewing it, nodding his head, silently saying that he likes the taste of it.

The day passed way too quickly for both Angel’s and Luke’s liking, none of them realised how late it was, only when you showed up, all done with work.

To be honest, you were even late, because you had to go to a doctor, confirming something that you already suspected.

Angel had some club business to do after he said goodbye to Luke, promising that he’ll get home by dinner, so he can read a bedtime story to the toddler.

“I love you, little one. Goodnight.” Angel kisses Luke’s forehead after he finishes reading for him.

“Goodnight, daddy. I love you.” Luke says sleepily, before he falls asleep.

Angel stood there, totally shocked from how Luke just called him.

Dad.

Such a simple word, 3 letters, that hold so much significance.

Angel stepped out of the toddler’s room, closing the door behind himself as he wiped the few tears rolling down his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Angel worried, panic rushing over you as you hurry up to him.

“He called me dad.” Angel confesses, a tiny sob escaping his lips.

“Aw, babe.” You reach your hand to his cheeks to wipe his tears.

It’s time now, you think.

“You better get used to being called a dad.” You whisper to him.

“I know.” Angel nods “I’m a part of his life now.”

“You are.” You agree “But not just his.”

“Yours too.”

“Angel.” You sigh when you see he’s not getting what you’re trying to tell him “Angel, I’m pregnant.” You say nervously.

Angel’s eyes grow wild as he looks at you, then down to your belly.

“I went to check it after work, and the doctor confirmed it.” You bite down on your bottom lip as you’re waiting for his reaction.

“We’re going to have another baby.” Angel smiles.

“Yes, another baby.” You laugh.

“I love you so much.” Angel hugs you tightly, burying his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love you more, my angel.”

Taglist: @gemini0410 @rosieposie0624 @blessedboo @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @mayans-sauce @mrsmarvelous1995 @phoenixhalliwell @rocketqueen @witching-hour @starrynite7114 @bellisperennis0 (comment or send an ask if you want to be added)

#clayton cardenas #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #posting this from my phone

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 4 years ago

Text

Grey Vase.

Thank you again @beccabarba for reading over this for me.

This is final part to my Bishop Grey series. This follows on from:

Grey Leather

Grey Uniform

Grey Dress

Warnings: this is episode based from season 2, so talks of Riz and Coco getting hurt, fluff and smut.

WC: 2415

Enjoy x

It had gotten around about you taking Bishop to the fund raiser. Not all of what you were hearing was bad, which was great. Your mum and dad were coming around to the idea that their daughter was seeing a Mayan, much to your surprise, after your Aunty who worked in the dress factory had told them what a gentleman he actually was. Rosa was all for it, hanging around the club house a lot more and your work partner was even more supportive of you actually being happy as long as he treated you well. You hadn’t seen Bishop since the morning after the fund raiser, leaving after he made you breakfast, but true to his word he had messaged you every night telling you he missed you, he was safe and he couldn’t wait to see you.

You wanted to take the afternoon off, and really you should have. Your afternoon shift started off like any other, slow at first, till you were in town and seen the grey Mercedes parked outside the coffee shop you and your partner were going to. You rolled your eyes when you walked in to see Emily picking up her coffee order turning around, your eyes meeting and a smirk pulling to her face making her way over to you,

“Y/N it’s good to see you, how are you? How is Rosa? Still living together?”

“Good thank you, sure are,” you gave her a small tight smile “Rosa is great and yourself? Miguel and Christobel well?”

“Going really well, thanks for asking. I’ am sure Christobel would love to see his godmother” You looked her dead in the eye, raising an eyebrow and Emily shrugged her shoulders at you “I saw you the other day, didn’t take you for a leather and motor bike kind of person.”

“Didn’t take you for a yellow raincoat kind of person but yet here we are,” you shot back.

“We aren’t so different you know” Emily sighed back.

“Em, we are very different. I never forgot where I came from”

Before Emily had a chance to answer back your radio went off, your partner answered saying you were on it, you both rushed out, you jumping in the driver’s seat, turning on the sirens and speeding off.

When you arrived, driving up the driveway seeing the burnt out bikes, a sick feeling started to fill your tummy and you had to will yourself to not throw up, recognising the bikes. You and your partner jumped out grabbing your bags and you rushed around the corner. Shattered glass was scatted all over the ground, Angel and Ez on either side of a crouched over Coco holding the right side of his face, and Riz laying on the floor just inside the damaged doors with Bishop, Hank and Taza trying to stop the bleeding on his chest. Bishop looked up at you and his heart sunk that you had to see all this.

“Coco” You yelled rushing over to him first looking over him “Call for back up” you yelled again at your partner as he rushed into Riz talking over his radio.

You sorted out Coco as quickly was you could and then rushed in to Riz to help your partner. In no time, back up was there helping out with Coco’s burns and his eye, putting him in the back of the ambulance and your partner rushed out to get a stretcher for Riz. Bishop, Taza, your partner and you lifted him onto the stretcher and you all rushed out as you pushed him to the back. You let Taza get in the back with your partner so he could do the once over again before you left. The driver’s window was open and you were on your radio calling it into the emergency room giving them the low down and telling them to prepare an operating room when you saw Bishop walk up to the door,

“I’ll follow you” Bishop’s eyes were slightly wet and you reached out the window to cup his cheek running your thumb along his jaw. Bishop turned his head grabbing onto your hand kissing your palm before you put the ambulance into ‘r’ reversing out with the sirens on again.

It had been three and a half weeks since Bishop had pushed you away physically, but not emotionally. You had some idea what was going to happen after what happened to Riz and you had seen first-hand how bitter Coco was with what happened to him. You got a message every day at some point, sometimes twice, Bishop telling you how much he missed you and how he couldn’t wait to see you again. The last time you had spoken to him at the funeral he had asked you to lay low, he didn’t want you getting caught up and dragged into what was going on as a pay back to him, and he wanted you safe. He had also given you Marcus’s number in case you needed someone with him away dealing with business and you laid low as much as you could.

It was your rostered day off and you were surprised when there was a knock on the door early in the morning, a delivery man from the local florist holding a grey vase with a beautiful flower arrangement. You took the flowers, closing and locking the door and then walking to sit the vase on the table. You pulled the pin out that had the note pinned to a leaf opening the small envelope pulling out a small card,

‘Miss you so much baby, can’t wait to hold you again soon xx’

Your heart swelled, holding the card up pressing it to your chest, you walked over to your phone picking it up and sending a message of thanks and that you couldn’t wait to thank him in person.

The hours had ticked on slowly with no message back yet. Rosa was out for the night with some work friends so you ordered in dinner and had just sat on the couch after a shower, your hair still damp in your short sleep nighty to watch the latest episode of your favourite New York police show.

Your eyes were glued to the TV as your favourite actors moved across the screen, when a rev of a motor bike made you jump and your heart pounded in your chest fast. You grabbed your phone unlocking it going to Marcus’s number in case you needed to call him, walking to the front window looking out the blinds. The motor bike was parked behind your car and you saw as the rider lift off his helmet and you gasped rushing to the door to open it.

You swung the door open to Bishop making his way towards the door, his eyes came up to meet yours, a smile pulling to his face and his eyes sparkled. You bolted out, jumping on him, your arms going around his neck his arms going around your middle lifting you up slightly off the ground walking you into your place while you peppered his face with kisses,

“I missed you so much baby” Bishop purred walking you both through the door placing you down and shutting it, locking it and he was back on you.

“I missed you Bishop” you lent forward your lips crashing on his, the kiss deepening and your arms around his neck tightening, pulling him in closer to you while his hands ran up and down your sides.

Bishop broke the kiss first stepping back from you tugging off his jacket throwing it on the back of the couch and then grabbing your hand pulling you to the couch,

“Do you want a beer or something?”

“No, I just want you” Bishop sat on the single couch pulling you onto his lap. One of your arms hocked around his neck, the other resting on his chest. Bishop wrapped one arm around your waist the other resting on your thigh. His warm hand sending goose bumps all over your body “I’ am sorry I was away for so long Y/N” Bishop kissed your shoulder “You been ok?”

“Yep, just work and home, missing you” you kissed his cheek “Thank you so much for the flowers. I love them” You nodded towards the kitchen table where they sat proudly in the middle of it.

“Anything for you baby” Bishop’s hand on your thigh starting to run up under your sleep nighty “You have this weekend off”

“How did you know” you looked down at him with a big smile.

“I ‘am el presidente, I know everything” he winked “Rosa told me, I seen her before I left”

“She was at the club house?” You raised your eyebrows at him and he nodded back with a smirk.

“She is staying with Angel tonight, it was her idea to tell you she was at a work thing when she knew I wanted to surprise you and tomorrow we ride to San Diego just me and you”

“You planned all this for me?” you looked down at him your fingers coming up to run through his hairy face, the feeling making you gasp and bite your bottom lip.

“It’s not all I have planned” His voice was deep and his hand slid further up under your nighty.

You moaned and lent down your lips connecting with his neck kissing, sucking and nipping along it. Without moving your lips from his neck, you moved yourself so you were straddling his lap, Bishop’s hand’s going straight to the hem of your sleep nighty lifting it up over your hips, his hands sliding into your lace panties cupping your ass cheeks groping them pulling you down onto him. You sucked on his sweet spot and he groaned bucking his hips up into your core. You lent back with a giggle and his grip on your ass tightened, your head falling back as he guided your hips over him,

“Take it off baby, let me see you”

You bit your bottom lip and then pulled your nighty up and off you throwing it on the other couch and you heard Bishop growl, his eyes on your chest and he licked his lips. Bishop pulled his hands out of your panties, wrapping his arms around your middle and he stood up carrying you to your bed room.

Bishop walked straight to your bed dropping you down on it and you gasped giggling as you bounced up slightly. Bishop grabbed onto the waist of your panties tugging them down in one go throwing them somewhere on the floor and toeing off his boots. You felt his hands on your knees spreading them apart and he settled between them still fully clothed, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. Bishop started to thrust his clothed hips into you and you moaned, feeling his jeans rub against you.

“Feel good?” Bishop’s lips met your neck.

He started kissing along it, the feel of his beard running along your skin and his wet warm lips on your skin made you feel like you were on fire and you started to grind your hips up wanting more, your orgasm getting closer and you nodded, your moans and pants started to fill the room.

“That’s it baby, just like that” Bishop pushed his hard clothed bulge into you more.

Your whole body started to tremble and you screamed Bishop’s name loud, your release shot through you making you pant loud. Bishop’s lips met yours kissing you deeply before he pulled away standing up ridding himself of his clothes, leaning over to the top drawer pulling out protection and rolling it on.

Bishop was back between your legs in no time, sliding up into you, you moaning and he grunting loud as he filled you up. Bishop started to kiss you deeply again when he started to roll his hips into you, his eyes locking with yours after he broke the kiss. You moved to wrap your legs around him, your hands running up his solid arms, up onto his shoulders and then up onto his cheeks.

You were so wrapped up with the feeling on him being in you and on top of you that you let out a surprised squeal when he rolled you both over so that he was now on his back and you were on top, your hands resting on his pecks and his on your hips. You started to roll your hips down on him hard and deep, Bishop’s grip on your hips bruising. Bishop planted his feet flat on the bed and he started to thrust up into you,

“I’ve missed you” you moaned out your head dropping back again.

“Missed you baby” he panted out.

His eyes were glued to your tits bouncing around and he let go of one hip bringing his hand around, his pointer finger connecting with your swollen pearl, circling it with the pad of his thumb and you started babbling nonsense under your breath letting out a scream falling forward resting on your hands while your orgasm washed over you like wild fire, your body covered in sweat,

“Good girl” Bishop kissed your arm still thrusting up into you still.

It didn’t take long and the room filled with his loud roar, Bishop slamming your hips down onto him coming deep inside you in the condom. Both your chests heaving, your forehead connecting with his, pecking each other’s lips gently.

You rolled off him dropping on your back, Bishop getting up and going to the bathroom to clean himself up. Bishop walked back in and he stopped in his tracks in the door way, his breathing hitched at your beauty as you laid on your back looking up at the roof still trying to catch your breath,

“You’re so beautiful” Bishop whispered as he got back onto the bed pulling you onto his chest wrapping his arms around you, his fingers running through your hair.

“You’re pretty beautiful yourself” you kissed Bishop’s chest your hand resting on his belly and he let out a chesty laugh.

“Excited for the weekend?” Bishop kissed the top of your head.

“I’ am just happy to be back in your arms, doesn’t matter where we are” You nuzzled into his chest and Bishop started to brush his fingers tips up and down your back.

“Me too baby.”

Tags: @beccabarba @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @withmyteeth

#bishop losa #bishop losa x you #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa smut #mayans fanfic #mayans smut

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Call Me Back

Bishop Losa x Reader

Request by my #1 Presidente fan @masterlistforimagines : Hiii, can I request “don’t you dare walk away” “call me now, it’s urgent” and “why do I even bother” with el Presidente (aka the only person I request for). I’m thinking maybe they were in an argument and he left mid argument to handle club shit. Maybe something important happens and that’s why there’s the whole call me back part. Like angst to fluff?

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: The prompts are from This Post in case anyone was curious! Also, I wanted to make it angsty but not tooooo too angsty because then my heart would be too sad haha. Hope you enjoy it!

Bish Tag: @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf

Gif Credit: @sonsofeorl

You and Bishop were standing on opposite ends of your dining room table. You were leaning against the back of the chair on the very end, trying to keep your tears from falling. You hated that you were an angry crier. Bishop was standing at the opposite end, staring intently down at the surface of the table. He hated seeing you so upset, and when you’d start to cry that’s when his heart would really start to break.

“I didn’t think it was worth bothering you with,” his tone was level, which sometimes made it more infuriating to argue with him, “It wasn’t that big of a—”

“It was a big deal to me!” you snapped, a tear escaping and trickling down your cheek, “It fucking matters to me! I don’t understand why that isn’t enough of a reason to keep me in the loop. All it takes is one goddamn phone call, Obispo. I’m not asking for a hell of a lot.”

“And I’m telling you, that if I want to keep you safe I can’t always just,” his phone vibrated in his pocket and he paused to see who was calling. With a sigh he hit the reject button and went back to is discussion with you, “I can’t always afford to do that. We’ve had this conversation before, I don’t know why we have to keep having it.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you wipe the tears off of your cheeks, “So if I just decided to fuck off for a couple days and not communicate with you at all, you’re saying that you’d be okay with that? That wouldn’t set off any alarm bells for you?”

He shook his head, “It’s not the same, Y/N. You aren’t tied up with a goddamn cartel!”

“That’s all the more reason you should take the five seconds to send me a text so I know you’re at least alive and not dead in a fucking ditch somewhere.”

“What exactly do you want me to send you then, huh? Drop you a casual text saying that the drug run was successful and that we—” his phone went off again in his pocket and he huffed as he answered it, “What?!”

You shook your head and collapsed in the chair that you had been leaning against. Of course he would answer his phone in the middle of an argument. God forbid he get through one conversation with you without having to reprioritize.

“Fuck me,” he sighed, “Alright, I’m on my way. Stay put and don’t do anything stupid.”

You jaw dropped, “You’re kidding right? You’re not leaving right now.”

“It’s shit with the—”

“Shit with the club, yea, I know,” you shook your head, “You can’t just leave in the middle of this, Obispo. You can’t keep dodging this conversation.”

“I’m not dodging it,” he took his kutte off the chair and slid it on, “but the club needs me right now.”

“I need you right now!” you slammed your hand on the table.

He took a deep breath, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t you dare walk away,” your voice was quieter now, “For the love of god, Obispo.”

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” he stormed off and out the door. No goodbye, no I love you, nothing. That hurt more than him yelling.

You buried your face in your hands as the tears began to flow. It was half anger, half sadness fueling them now. You were constantly left feeling like you were being unrealistic with asking certain things of him, and also knowing that what you were asking for was the bare minimum. You cared about him too much to be alright with not knowing if he was safe. No matter how many times you tried to explain that to him, though, he never seemed to get it. Or maybe he did and just actively went out of his way not to get into it because he couldn’t offer you any comfort about it. If that was the case though, you reasoned, that was another discussion he should be having with you.

But you never got to discuss anything. Because there was always something going on with the club that would cut into it.

You wiped the tears off of your face and grabbed your purse and keys from the table. If he could leave, then so could you. You couldn’t keep sitting in the house feeling sad and lonely. You were done with that. If Bishop really wanted to talk to you, he could come and find you.

The radio was blasting and the roads were empty. You had no idea how long you had been driving for. You were all cried out though. You took a deep breath as you blindly dug around in your purse for your cigarettes and lighter. You were able to take one out of the pack and put it to your lips without taking your eyes off the road. Your fingers fumbled with the lighter for a moment before you glanced down just long enough to make sure you were going to safely light it.

You looked back up to the road and screamed, swerving your car to avoid hitting the coyote that was standing in the middle of the road. It scampered out of the way, getting out of the altercation unharmed, but you couldn’t stop yourself from swearing repeatedly as you realized that your car had dragged along the cement median, still there from the never-ending construction. You didn’t want to get out and look at the damage, but you knew that you had to.

You put your hazards on as you safely found a place to pull off the road. You grabbed your phone, turning the flashlight on so you could see what you were dealing with. Tears stung at your eyes again as you took in the damage. A good chunk of it was cosmetic, just scrapes and dents down the passenger side of the vehicle. But you had also busted your passenger-side headlight, and also ended up ripping off the side-view mirror as well. The car was drivable, but if you passed any cops there was no way they weren’t going to give you some kind of ticket.

Your original plan had been to make Bishop come and look for you, but that all went out the window. With a heavy sigh you called him. The line rang, and rang, and rang. No answer. He always had time to pick up for the club, but suddenly now his phone was out of reach. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let yet another wave of tears come cascading down your cheeks.

Your thumbs flew across your phone’s keyboard, “Call me now. It’s urgent” you hoped that maybe he just couldn’t answer a phone call, but maybe he’d have the time to spare a quick look at a text message. You weren’t one to bother him with “emergencies” that weren’t really emergencies. If you said you needed help, you meant it.

You gave it ten minutes before you sent a follow up message, “Forget it. Why do I even bother?”

You scrolled through your contacts until you landed on Chucky’s number. This wasn’t his problem, but you knew that he’d show up in a heartbeat to help you. You dialed and he picked up on the second ring.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, Chucky. I’m, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know it’s late and you’re probably dealing with your own shit right now, but I’m in a bit of a spot.”

“You know I would do anything for the First Lady of the club,” he sounded so earnest.

It made you smile and shake your head even if he couldn’t see you, “You’re sweet, Chucky. Are you still at the yard?”

“I’m just getting ready to leave. You called me at the perfectly fated moment.”

You chuckled despite the fact that you wanted to cry, “Something like that. I, uh, I banged up my car. I was wondering if you could meet me with the tow truck? I’ll owe you one for sure.”

“All you’ll ever owe me is company and good conversation.”

You laughed as you gave him the mile marker that you were closest to. The whole evening had been a shitshow but it was impossible to not feel a little lighter after talking to Chucky. You just hoped that it wouldn’t take him too long to get to you.

He got to you in about forty-five minutes, which was good time considering you had been driving for a while before all of this happened. He didn’t say a word as the two of you hooked your car up to the tow truck. That was one of the things you loved about Chucky—he didn’t ask a million questions. You hopped in so you were riding shotgun and you both began the ride back to the yard.

As promised, you kept a conversation going with him the entire time, and it almost made you forget about the chaos that had landed you in that truck with him. There was so much to Chucky that you wanted to know about. He was like the most interesting puzzle you’d ever encountered. He was always so kind to you, and you knew he did everything he could to help take care of the club. There weren’t many people who were as selfless and loyal as he was. You were glad to know him.

He drove through the gate to the yard and clubhouse. You let out a deep sigh when you saw Bishop sitting on the steps to the clubhouse. There was a cigarette in his hand and he was staring down at the ground, looking up only when he heard the truck roll onto the lot. He flicked away the last of his cigarette as he jogged over to meet the truck when Chucky put it in park.

“I figured that you would be able to get it off the truck and onto the lift tomorrow?” Chucky offered up as he stepped out of the truck, “Or one of the club?”

Bishop nodded, wanting to dismiss him quickly without being rude, “Yea we got it. Thank you, Chucky.”

“Glad to be of service,” he nodded to Bishop, “Have a good night, Presidente,” he turned back to you, “Despite the circumstances, I appreciate the company.”

You smiled at him, “You’re a good man, Chucky. Thank you.”

He smiled as he walked away, “I accept that.”

It was just you and Bishop on the lot. Everything was dark except for the street lights that shined into the compound. There was a considerable gap between the two of you. You were nervously fussing with your hair, not wanting to try and get into all of this shit with Bishop now. All you wanted to do was go home and go to sleep. The adrenaline was wearing off and all of the crying that you had been doing was exhausting.

“I’m sorry about the car,” you finally broke the silence, “There was a coyote in the middle of the road and I didn’t want to hit it and I just—”

It seemed like it only took him all of two steps to close the gap between the two of you as he came and wrapped you in a hug. He squeezed you tighter than he had in a long time, with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other looped so that he was keeping your head pressed against his chest. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight, like he was trying to revel in how you felt in his arms.

“I don’t give a fuck about the car,” he mumbled into your hair as he peppered the top of your head with kisses,” he pulled back so he could look you over, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, “Yea. It really wasn’t that bad. It’s a lot of cosmetic damage. I’ll need a new headlight and mirror though,” you sighed, shaking your head, “Dumb fucking coyote.”

There was the smallest hint of a smile on his face, “I told you that no stray animal like that is worth wrecking the car over.”

“I didn’t wreck it. She’s just got…you know…some battle scars now.”

He shook his head as he pulled you into another hug. He tilted your chin up for a moment so that he could kiss your lips. You closed your eyes and let yourself melt into it for a moment, savoring the taste of him before he rested your head back against his chest again. His arms tightened around you again, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

You were smiling against his chest but you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth, “You woulda known sooner if you answered your fucking phone when I called.”

You felt his chest rise and fall as he sighed, “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Did Chucky tell you he was coming to get me?”

Bishop nodded a smile quickly passing over his face as he said, “Barged in on Templo,” he gave you a pointed look, “Which is why I wasn’t answering my phone, by the way. And I would’ve gone with him but I didn’t know if you were still pissed off at me.”

“I’m not done being mad at you yet, Obispo,” you sighed against him, “But I would like to hit pause on this argument for now. I’m tired and I just want to go home with you.”

He scooped you up so your legs were wrapped around his waist as he held you, “I would really love it if you were done being mad at me, Amor,” he pressed his forehead against yours.

You rolled your eyes as he nuzzled his nose against yours, trying to be sweet enough to drop your anger, “Are you really trying to schmooze your way out of this argument?”

He walked, carrying you over to his bike. He set you down on your seat and gently cupped your face in his hand, “What if I’m trying to schmooze and I promise you that going forward I’ll work on being better at communicating with you?”

You smiled, leaning into the warmth emanating from his hand, “Alright, fine, I’ll allow it,” you kissed his palm, “But you’re on thin ice, Obispo.”

There was a small smirk on his face, “I always am,” he handed you his helmet, “So do I get to ask why your next call was Chucky? Why not one of the guys?”

You laughed, “Why? You jealous of Chucky?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “He is quite the charmer.”

You chuckled as you clipped the strap to his helmet, “He refers to me as the First Lady and it does wonders for my confidence.”

“Don’t let it go to your head too much, Y/N,” he tapped the top of his helmet, “Or this won’t even fit you anymore.”

“If it still fits you, I know I’ll be fine,” you smirked before letting out a laugh.

He shook his head at you before leaning in and giving you a kiss, “Always gotta have something smart to say, don’t you?”

“That’s why you love me.”

He got onto his bike, and you were still able to hear his laughter even though you were sitting behind him, “One of the many reasons, Amor.”

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venactricisfics · 4 years ago

Text

Malibu Desert

@just1bri @redwolfs-world @wonderlust75 @queenbeered

@sickofbitches

Master List

It was supposed to be settled.

Twenty

“So how much should I order for the party next week?” I analyze the list of food, booze, and supplies I had to order for EZ’s patch party. Or I suppose depending on the vote it would be a normal Friday night party at the clubhouse. Bishop didn’t or couldn’t tell me which way the club was leaning. I saw how proud he looked when EZ did things for the club. The way he would handle club business.

And EZ had become his prospect. I heard some of the stories about Angel being his sponsor in the beginning and how blood and the patch were getting confused. I had a feeling there was more to the story. But that’s all I could get out of any of them.

“I think it’ll just be the club,” Bishop pulls my hair from my neck to press his lips there. “But could be more. Maybe getting another delivery from SAMCRO. Ramos and Canche texted me and are coming down too. Don’t know if they’ll still be here for that.” His fingers work the muscles in my back, “You don’t have to do all this, querida. That’s what we have prospects for.”

“I won’t let EZ plan his own party,” I let my eyes close and I just feel his hands and lips on me. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You don’t know if it’s gonna be EZ’s party, Hermosa,” his hand dips down the front of my shirt. I let out a soft moan as his fingertips danced over my nipple. Bringing it to a hardened peak. My head falls back against his chest and I let him distract me from my task. A welcome distraction.

Or it would have been until the shrill of both of our phones pulled us from our activities. I would have ignored it but no one called me, not unless it was important. And the number that popped up on the screen was from Charming.

I couldn’t hear the words from the other end of Bishop’s line but I heard the familiar Scottish accent. And on mine, I got Montez, the Road Captian, from SAMCRO. I met him briefly in Charming a few months ago. “Chibs wants a sit-down,” he says.

“I know, he’s on the phone with Bishop now,” I respond, “What’s this about?”

“Just about our mutual business dealings,” he stated. Guns. The email I got from Declan a few days ago said as much without saying anything at all.

“I get it, but this is more club business, isn’t it?” I quirk a brow as I stand from my seat. Bishop had paced off to have a more discrete conversion with the SAMCRO president.

“You should be there,” he says, “Chibs wants you there.”

“OK,” I responded, “I’ll be there. I’ll leave it to the club to make the arrangements.” Without another word, I end the call. I hear Bishop’s boots on the hardwood floor behind me.

“Church?” I ask and he nods,” Well there goes our quiet morning.” I stand up from the kitchen table, my hands cup his face, and press my lips to his. “Just let me know where we’re heading and for how long once you know. I need to get a shower and get ready. Then I can meet you at the clubhouse.”

“I still don’t like you involved in the shit we do,” he tells me. It wasn’t something I pressed. I stayed back dealing mainly with the back-end stuff, letting Chibs and Declan handle the stuff on the ground.

“I know,” I wrap my arms around his neck and just hold him for a brief moment before letting him leave to do club business.

---

I toss an overnight bag in the back of my SUV. Just a couple changes of clothes for me and Bishop just in case. Text from Taza said we were meeting at a lodge at 8. Leaving from the clubhouse at 2. Club messages were always cryptic. No details, just exactly what I needed to know. And only what I needed to know.

I pulled into the parking lot of the scrapyard. “Jefe wants you to ride in the van with me,” Creeper says as he takes my bag.

“Why?” I ask sharper than intended, “No offense.”

“I don’t ask questions,” he replies, “but he’s inside.”

“You’re putting me in the van?” my eyes narrowed as I walked inside, word oozing with irritation. Bishop was sitting at the table with Taza and Hank.

“Drop the tone and sit the fuck down,” Bishop’s eyes dark as he looks back at me. I let out a breath as I took a seat. Something about his commanding voice did something to me. I didn’t want to feel a pooling between my thighs when he talked to me that way but it happened. I wanted to be pissed at him for talking to me that way, but my body betrayed me.

“Alright,” I tuck a curl behind my ear, “Why am I riding in the van and not with you?”

“Me and my guys have to be on a united front,” he replied, “ with the Kings and the Reaper. No weakness.”

“So I make you weak?” my voice is shakier than I would like.

“You make me unfocused,” he stated, “we get there I’ve got to go up against the Cro and keep my shit together with the Kings. Can’t afford distractions.”

"I'm not planning a striptease or anything, I'm just going to be there," I straighten up in my seat, finding my voice again, "to protect my family's interest," My eyes lock with Bishop's, "Both of my families interests."

"You being there is enough," Bishop replied his voice slightly softer. "Ride up there in the van, querida."

"Ok," I conceded, "I suppose there won't be time for me to clean up before the meeting."

I watch out the windshield, the bikers' formation. It's different than I'd experienced before. The poetry was still there but I was no longer a part of it. Just a spectator. El Presidente flanked by his VP and his Sergeant at Arms, Gilly, Coco, and Angel road behind them EZ still took the rear.

"We'll be there soon, chica," Creeper's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Not as far as the last time we road together."

"Sorry, I haven't been the better riding companion," I tell him.

"Don't worry about it, I get it. My ol' lady never listens to me either," he chuckled.

"I didn't know you had a girl," I quirk a brow.

"She works nights so doesn't come to the clubhouse often," Creep responds. "She is her own woman, like you. She ain't like the club hang arounds."

"She sounds like a keeper," I smile at him, "I guess I do need to pick my battles. Club stuff can get complicated. Especially when emotions and business is involved.”

"Bish just wants to keep you safe. We all do," Creeper pulls the van to a stop.

"I know," I watch as my boys file their bikes into a parked row outside of the lodge. "I appreciate it. Even when I don't."

I adjust my boobs and slide my feet into a pair of heels. One benefit of riding in the van, the ability to wear my favorite strappy heels. I swing the door open and step out. The lodge is woody and manly. Very appropriate for the situation.

I smile at the feel of a familiar hand resting on the small of my back, "Let's get inside, Hermosa." I nod in return. Inside the scent of leather, smoke, and whiskey filled my nose. I stand nodding as Bishop and Taza go over the plans with the tribe leaders.

"If it isn't Bishop's Princesa irlandesa," Oso Ramos kisses my cheek before embracing Bishop in a bro hug.

"You remember Canche?" Bishop nods to the Yuma President.

"Nice to see you again," I offer a smile as I hug the man. Over the next half hour or so I hugged and kissed my way through another dozen or so burly bikers. I took my place at Bishop's side. I was given shows of respect being the ol' lady of a Mayan King. And the representative of the Irish Kings. This world embraced me in a way that the one I'd come from never had before.

"What'll you have to drink?" one of the guys asks.

"Whiskey and cranberry, please," I respond. The glass was handed to me an instant before the front doors of the lodge swing open and SAMCRO saunters through.

"Who do ya gotta fuck ta get a drink around here?" Chibs baritone unmistakable. The lips of the kings spread into a smile as they step up to welcome the Reaper crew. We have a drink then make our way into the conference room. The table stretched the length. SAMCRO seated on one side, Chibs shouldered by Happy, Montez, and the biggest biker I’d ever seen in my fucking life, Rane Quinn. The Mayan Kings sat on the other flanked by Taza and Hank.

My shoulders pushed back I keep my head held high as I take my seat at the head of the table. I couldn’t show that I was taking sides. Though clearly, I did have a bias. I listened as Chibs explains the delay in trading off the guns to the Mayans.

“The North Cali port authority has made the decision for us,” Chibs said, “they’re closing down the Mendocino port. The Irish have nowhere to bring their guns.”

“Shit,” Bishop says snuffing out his cigarette.

I look between the men and add, “There’s another shipment coming in two weeks but after that, until we find a new dealer. I talked to the Irish Kings,” I look from Bishop to Canche and Oso, then to Chibs, “I asked them to give us a little time to work out a new import strategy. SAMCRO has come up with something that could keep our business dealings going.”

“Sorry to drop this all on ya laps boys,” Chibs looks directly at Bishop. “But that’s the way it is.”

“You wanna bring ‘em South,” Bishop responds, “that’s why my crew is here.”

“Aye,” Chibs states, “way south. There’s an MC that runs the port down in Tijuana.”

“The Vatos Malditos,” Alvarez adds. The name didn’t ring the same recognition that it did for Bishop and the rest of my Mayans.

Bishop leans forward in his chair, “Shit, we just had a little run-in with the VM. I didn’t end well.”

“Well, fuck,” Chibs responded. I searched my recent memory for what the hell had happened and met Coco’s gaze.

“That thing with Letty?” I asked. He nodded his agreement.

“Their Prez is a friend of mine,” Montez adds, “He didn’t mention any beef.”

“You already talked to them?” Bishop asked.

“Aye, we had to make sure we could make a deal,” Chibs responded, “They’re coming up here.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me?” Hank grunted.

“If Palo didn’t mention it,” Montez states, “It means he’s willing to sit down and meet. Nothing is going go down while we’re here.”

“Is there any way things can be worked out with the VM?” I cut my eyes to Bishop then back to Chibs and Montez.

Bishop eyes Hank then talks softly to Canche and Oso. Reluctantly he sighs, “They come to the table we’re willing to talk, we are willing to listen.”

“It’s a beautiful thing,” Chibs responds. “Now until they get here I need another fucking drink.” I hang back at the table feeling a touch out of place as the guys filed out of the room. I couldn’t or wouldn’t try to influence Bishop’s decision but I knew that if this deal didn’t pan out, I could be cut out of my family’s business. And the business was my last remaining connection to my father.

“Yo, Malibu,” Angel’s voice interrupted my inner dialog. “Come outside and have a smoke.”

I looked up at him confused, “What are you talking about? I don’t smoke.”

“You look like you could use one,” he responded, “Or a good fuck but Bish is occupied with the Kings and can’t accommodate you right now.”

“You are an ass,” I stand up from the table and walk with him outside. The pounding of fist against flesh fills my ears, EZ on the ground punching the face of another Mayan.

“What the fuck?” Angel says, “He can’t hit a patch.”

“He can if I tell him to,” Coco responds.

“That’s fucked up, he put fucking hands on us,” the larger of the other Mayans shouts.

“He’s obeying orders,” Coco states with a smirk. I stand back watching this display of masculinity with a smile of my own. It was a welcome distraction from everything else that was going on.

“Y’all wanna bother the Kings with this petty shit right now?” Angel asks. EZ breathes hard stepping back. He got whatever it was that was in his system out.

I place my hand on his chest, “You good?”

“Yeah,” he responds, “I needed that.” EZ shrugs off and moves over with his brother.

I step past him and take a look at the guy he was fighting, his face bloody. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Dolla,” he answers, “We just fucking with the Prospect.”

I show him my hands as I step closer to him, “Doesn’t matter why. Let me check your face. Make sure nothing’s broken.” I hold his face in my hands, my thumb moves lightly down the bridge of his nose, then over his orbital bone, and along his cheekbones. “You’ll be fine. I’d suggest you go around back to the bathroom to wash up. Don’t want your Prez to find out you lost a fight to a Prospect.”

I give him a wink then follow Angel, EZ, Coco, and Riz back inside. “Is the smoke pad always that exciting?” I ask as I catch up with them.

“All the time,” Riz says with a smile, “why I haven’t quit yet.” I take a seat on the arm of the oversized leather couch beside Bishop, his hand moves to possessively rest on my thigh.

“You ok, querida?” he reaches up wiping blood from my face with his thumb.

“It’s not mine,” I take the napkin offered, “One of the Tempe guys had an accident outside. I just checked him out.”

“The Vatos are here,” Hank says as he enters the room. We all stand, Bishop directing me protectively behind him. The tension in the air was palpable. I could see Bishop’s jaw tighten when Chibs spoke softly to them. My own heart raced but I stood firm. Weakness wouldn’t be acceptable in this room full of Alpha males.

We file back into the conference room. This time Chibs took a seat with Montez at the head, the VM on one side then the Mayans on the other. The room filled so fully men were lining the walls. The VM leader glared at me as I made my way to the foot of the table. Dolla from Tempe sporting the beginnings of a black eye slides the chair out for me.

“I can work with Santo Padre to schedule with the Irish,” I started.

“VM unloads and stores,” Chibs continues, “then transports to the East Cali border. We think 30% is fair to cut them in for.”

“Agreed,” Bishop responds.

“I won’t take orders from a woman,” El Palo barks.

“One word from this woman,” I narrow my eyes in his direction, “and this whole bloody deal is done. The Irish Kings would be more than happy to find another dealer to handle their business. And you can go back to scamming lost sheep.”

“Calm down,” Chibs says, “the both o’ ya. Ms. O’Shay is here at the request of the Irish. And will be here as long as they wish it.” I lean back in my seat listening as they discuss numbers and cuts. None of this concerned me. Not until they started talking about the Mayans paying restitutions.

“You lost men because you came in our fucking backyard,” Bishop said firmly. “What the fuck did you think was gonna happen?” My heart began to race again.

“The Mayans killed nine of my fucking men,” El Palo said.

“You were wrong,” Taza shouted.

“Can we just say that you both were fucking wrong?” Chibs states and looks over to the Mayan side of the table, “You’ve got to put something on this table so we can get the fuck outta here.”

After whispering with Canche and Oso, Bishop offers, “We’ll match SAMCRO’s 5%.”

“Fuck that!” El Palo yells, “20%!”

“Fuck you!” Bishop shouts. The men on both sides of the table stand up squaring off. Happy pulls his piece from his kutte.

“Jesus Christ! Fuck!” Chibs shouts still sitting in his chair at the head of the table. “You fucking Mexicans you make us Scotts look sensible. Gentleman get your fucking dicks off the table this is a fair deal.” Bishop and the Kings nod and everyone takes their seats again.

“I’m glad we can all come to a peaceful understanding,” I state. “Slainte!” I down my glass and the rest of the Mayans and Vatos join in reluctant acceptance. I hang back as the men file out. The VM exits the front and SAMCRO out the back. The men say their goodbyes.

Bishop laces his fingers with mine as we head back inside. “It’s a good thing what you did in there, hermosa.” He presses his lips to my temple.

“It wasn’t so hard,” I gave his hand a squeeze with a smile. “I’m used to handling angry Mexicans.”

“Don’t worry, querida,” he smirks, placing my hand on his member through his jeans, “I got plenty for you to handle.”

“I know you do,” I give him a kiss and a gentle squeeze. We sit and have a few more drinks. Music plays over the speakers. The playfulness of the evening was cut short but the sound of an explosion outside.

“Stay there,” Bishop jumps to his feet following the crew outside. I hung back, staying just inside the door a bike was on fire. I jump at the sound of machine gunfire. It seemed to come from all directions.

“Taz, Nova get down,” Riz shouts. I saw El Palo’s eyes clearly, he was focused on his assault. Riz took the shot and fell back on top of me. I never knew the man could be so heavy. I kept down. I heard Bishop’s voice yelling, his gun firing. All of their gun’s firing.

I shifted out from under Riz when the gunfire stopped. “Riz,” I place my fingers on his neck finding a weak pulse. Labored breathing. My hands moved down his chest and applied pressure to the wound. “Call an ambulance!”

I couldn’t think anymore, I just held pressure on his wound.

“Nova,” Creeper’s voice, “you’re bleeding.”

“It’s not my blood,” I muttered. Not sure if the shock or the adrenaline wore off but I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder.

“Lay back, sweetheart,” Taza’s voice soothed me, “Get a fucking ambulance now!” I could feel the color leave my face as I fell back. My hands were covered with blood. A mixture of Riz’s and my own. The room spun and went dark as I heard the approaching sirens.

#mayans mc #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa smut #bishop x oc #bishop losa #sons of anarchy

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