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bucksangel · 4 years ago

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A Woman Like You

Pairing: Bishop Losa x f!Reader (no description of body type or race is mentioned)

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Four weeks after you and Angel break up, you're in an accident. With no one left to call, Bishop comes to your rescue. While fixing your bike, he also fixes your heart.

Warnings: nothing but a whole lot of fluff, reader gets injured in a motorcycle accident but nothing is graphically described, mentions of blood, Angel kind of being an ass but so is the reader so🤷‍♀️

Commissioned by @winchestershiresauce (i'm sorry it took so long i'm stupidly busy ily)❤️

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tip Jar

a/n: i'm strongly considering doing a part 2 with smut included so if you want that then just tell me and i'll do it!

tagging: @melaniecraig80 @est1887

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

“Maybe we should break up then!”

While those words stung, it didn’t completely come as a surprise. Your relationship with Angel was hanging by its last thread, so when your boyfriend, now ex, came barreling towards where you stood on the clubhouse porch, you knew it wasn’t going to end well. And while the argument nor your breakup was unexpected, it didn’t hurt any less, especially since Angel had the Gaul to yell at you in front of his brothers.

Truthfully, you don’t really know what prompted this argument. At this point, it seems that you and Angel would find any reason to scream at each other. But deep in your heart, it still hurts. While you may not be in love with him anymore, you don’t care for him any less. But the anger running through your veins doesn’t consider that thought as you scream back at him.

“Fine!”

Everyone freezes, heads slowly turning to see the look of shock and hurt on each of your faces. Your heart is racing, the steady thud thud thud can be felt throughout your entire body. And with this anxiety quickly rising, you clear your throat and tilt your head slightly so you can stare at the ground for a solid minute while you contemplate your next words carefully.

“I’ll… stay at my place tonight,” Your voice is softer than you would have liked it to be, but you manage to look up and meet Angel’s eyes. The fire is still there, masking the hurt you know is about to consume his body. And you can’t stand it, because he’s still your friend. Before you got together he was your friend, and you’d hate to think that this is the end of any relationship you two could have.

“I’ll pick my things up tomorrow.”

Without another word you turn and escape into the clubhouse where, thankfully, the party is still in full swing. You’re able to dodge the drunks and weave your way through dancing bodies without being seen while on your way to retrieve your keys from the new prospect - Steve? Stan? You couldn’t really remember nor do you care to at this moment.

On shaky legs you manage to push your way to the front of the bar, hand lifting to catch the prospect’s attention. To no avail, though, he’s turned to help a slightly unruly group of patrons. After a minute of waving your hand, you huff, your hand falling down to rest on the bar you’re now leaning against. With a slow turn of your head, your eyes flicker across the room, passing over more unruly men and a few women crowded near the pool table.

A soft grunt is heard behind you, so your body moves to look at whoever could be invading your space. Upon seeing Bishop, standing tall and oozing confidence, leaning against the bar as well, you jump. A squeak escapes your lips at the small scare he gave you. It’s not that his presence intimidates you (quite the opposite actually, he’s really good at making you feel safe), you’d just assumed he’d be holed up with his brothers around the back table.

Looking over his shoulder, you can see the rest of the guys are, in fact, still around the table, presumably telling age old stories of heroics and stupidity. Bishop clears his throat, perhaps to get your attention back on him. So, you return your gaze to the man in front of you. His beard is long, his eyes tired, but his smile is genuine. In turn, you smile back at him. You hadn’t expected to cross paths tonight, but seeing him puts you in a better mood than you were five minutes ago.

“I heard a commotion happened outside, everything okay?” Bishop asks a furrow in his brow telling you he genuinely wants to know that you’re okay. That’s a perk of being friends with him, while he looks tough and mean, his words and actions speak volumes in terms of how much he cares for the people in his life.

Nodding your head, you sigh, body slumping against the bar counter. “Yeah, just - Angel.... We broke up,” You mutter, tightening your hold on your beer and bringing it up to your lips. You take quite a big gulp of the alcohol before returning your attention to Bishop. “I’m not surprised it happened, but… it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

The pounding in your heart rattles your ribcage as you fight off tears. Crying in a clubhouse full of people isn’t on your to-do list for the day, so you lean back over the bar counter to search for your keys, finding them in a bowl on the back side of the bar.

“Let me drive you home.” His voice isn’t loud or commanding, but it’s still not phrased as a question. You snap your head to the side to look at Bishop again, ready to turn that idea down. Instead of speaking, Bishop pulls his keys out of his pocket and gently takes your arm so he can lead you out of the clubhouse.

“I’m fine Bish, I’m not even that drunk.” That’s a lie, both of you know it’s not true. But you’re still hesitant to get on a bike with Bishop, it feels like a betrayal to your own Harley. Nevertheless, he manages to pull you all the way to his truck, and - oh. You’re not going on his bike?

As if reading your mind, Bishop quickly adds, “I’ve had a few beers myself, taking the truck is safer.” And that seems to be the end of that conversation.

The alcohol flowing through your system manages to dull your anger enough to not fight back when Bishop helps you into the passenger seat and buckles you in. You want to argue that you’re not a baby, that you can take care of yourself thank you very much, but the several (four, maybe?) beers and the two shots you’d had tonight were hitting you in full force.

Once the door is closed, you turn in your seat to press your forehead to the glass and pull your legs up to your chest. You’re usually a happy type of drunk, but with the yelling and the heartache, all you want to do right now is sleep. And you must have done just that, because the next thing you know Bishop is maneuvering you out of the car to cradle you in his arms.

“Lemme down… I can.. walk.” You murmur, but you’re quickly slipping back into slumber as Bishop chuckles. The last thing you remember, Bishop is laying you down - on your bed? Couch? You can’t tell, but you don’t care right now.

“Goodnight, querida.”

And then, everything goes black.

_____________

Sunlight streams in through the open curtains, a warm glow fills the room. A groan, loud and hearty, echoes throughout the otherwise silent bedroom. Your head lifts from the pillow before quickly shoving itself under said pillow. The light is too bright, the birds chirping are too loud, and you want to throw up. This feeling is actually what gets you up from the bed, stumbling your way to the bathroom just in time to empty your stomach into the toilet. Your head pounds with every wretch and cough you emit, only after two minutes does the vomiting end. Eyes closed and mouth parted, you flush the toilet and brace yourself so you can stand on wobbly legs.

The cool water splashing against your face actually helps, the cold waking your mind and body by a fraction. Your gaze drifts from the sink to the mirror, causing you to visibly cringe at the state you’re in. Your hair is relatively kempt, but the bags under your eyes and the flushness of your skin would let anyone know that you’re not doing too great today. A ding from your phone sounds loud throughout the room, and the pounding of your head starts to increase again.

The cabinet to your left holds your medicines, so you shuffle through different cold meds and pain pills until you land on the tylenol. It’s all a blur, shoving two tylenol in your mouth, gulping it down with tap water, and then stumbling back to bed intending to sleep the day away. But another ding from your phone sounds again, and you finally find the strength to look at it.

Several texts from Ez and Coco flood your screen, but one text is from Bishop, and your heart starts to drop into your stomach. Images from last night flood your mind as you remember the argument, the breakup, and then Bishop driving you home since you were way too drunk to drive. You dread what you’re about to read and pray that you hadn’t said anything embarrassing to the man. So, summoning up the courage, you open your phone.

From: Bishop

Good morning, I hope your hangover is treating you well. I know you hate other people riding your bike, so I’ll have it towed to your place later. Let me know when you wake up so I know you’re okay.

To: Bishop

Hey, I’m okay. My head feels like it’s going to explode and I might throw up again, so I’m having a good time. Thanks for doing this, and for last night. I’m sorry if I said or did anything embarrassing.

You throw your phone on the pillow next to your head and sigh, and within minutes you’re back in the clutches of a restless slumber.

_____________

Four weeks pass by and you’ve managed to not go back to the clubhouse. Sure, you’ve hung out with Coco and Gilly and Ez a few times, you’ve even met with Bishop at a diner to catch up, but never at the clubhouse. Mainly, it’s because you know it’s Angel’s territory, his home away from home, and you don’t want to show up and ruin that for him after breaking up so soon (It’s also partially due to not wanting to see a new woman hang off of Angel’s arm if he’s already moved on).

You’ve managed to stay away from the clubhouse for four weeks, up until today. Clouds covered the sun, providing much needed shade and therefore letting the temperature drop by a few degrees. Today was a perfect day for riding around the streets of Santo Padre, up until it wasn’t.

You’re at a red light when it happens, a car racing down the road at a definitely illegal speed swerves as the driver tries to turn left. Luckily, there was only one other car on the road, the opposite side you were on, so they didn’t get hurt, but you did.

The car manages to swerve in such a way that the rear of the car smashes into your bike, sending you flying backwards and your bike skidding to the right. Due to the force of which you’re knocked back by, you land on your side, your shoulder taking most of the impact. It might be the adrenaline, but you don’t register the pain, nor do you register the blood all across your arm from where you’d skidded across the pavement.

In a haze, you hear sirens sound in the distance, people come to your aid in flocks, several bystanders are helping you to stand while other bystanders block the car that hit you from speeding away. It’s all a blur, everything moves too fast yet too slow at the same time. But soon enough the paramedics are escorting you to the back of an ambulance and police officers are surrounding the car.

Over the next five or so minutes, you’re asked a series of questions regarding your injuries and medical history, but one question stumps you.

Is there anyone you want to notify?

Is there? Your family lives hours away, you and Angel are no longer together, and you’re pretty sure most of the club is working at the scrapyard. Still, you know you won’t be able to get back home once they transport you to the hospital, so you decide to call the one person that you know could help you right now.

Bishop.

_____________

Within the next hour, you’re sitting on a hospital bed with your arm bandaged and in a sling. You’re doing alright for being hit by a car, most of that has to do with the helmet you were wearing. Minor scrapes and bruises litter your body, a nasty cut across your cheek had to be stitched up, but you’ve had worse.

Heavy footsteps make their way down the hall, a gruff voice asking (demanding) to be led to your room, and then suddenly the door is swung open to reveal a very concerned Bishop. His breathing is labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as he takes in your condition.

After determining that you’re not in serious peril, Bishop takes a few quick steps so he can stand in front of you. His eye twitches and his fist clenches, the scowl on his face let’s you know that he might actually kill the man that put you here.

Reaching your good hand out to him, you lay your hand on his bicep and squeeze softly. A soft smile forms on your face as you shake your head. “I’m okay, Bish. A little banged up, but nothing too bad.”

Bishop huffs, shakes his own head, and takes your hand off of his arm so he can hold it in his own. “No. It ain’t okay, you’re hurt.”

And something in the way he speaks makes your heart stutter ever so slightly, your face grows warm. But, you don’t want to dwell on that, you’re more concerned with calming Bishop down than you are with analyzing why now, of all times, you’re becoming nervous around your friend.

“I’m okay, Obispo. Yes, I’m injured, but that doesn’t mean that I'm incapacitated.” Your voice comes out harsher than you intended. However at this point, you’re tired of people (men, mainly) treating you like some porcelain doll that must be protected at all times. “I’m a big girl, okay. I can handle myself, you know.”

At this, Bishop sighs and drops your hand, but not before giving it a soft squeeze. “I know you are, that doesn’t mean I like seeing people I care about getting hurt.” His voice is also gruff, but you know it’s because he truly cares.

As you’re contemplating on whether or not to argue further with Bishop, a knock at your room’s door stops you both, you both turning your heads to look at the doctor making his way towards you with a clipboard and papers.

“We’ve prescribed you some pain medications and a steroid to help with the swelling in your shoulder. Now all you have to do is sign these documents and we can release you.”

The doctor is short and to the point, clearly tired from what must be a long and stressful shift at the ER, so you take the clipboard and (as best as you can) balance the clipboard on your knees so you can sign what needs to be signed. At one point Bishop tries to take the clipboard to help steady it, but you throw him a glare that makes him back off.

It takes a bit, but you’re soon discharged and walking (limping, more like it) out of the hospital and to Bishop’s awaiting truck.

“I had Chucky tow your bike to the shop. I’ll take a look at it tomorrow and see if we can save her.” Bishop talks with authority, like what he says is final, and that’s what really irks you.

“You didn’t need to do that, I could have had it brought to my house so I can fix my bike.” Frustration is flowing through your veins. You loathe asking others for help, so this otherwise small act of kindness feels too much for you.

That comment makes Bishop stop walking and turn around so he can face you. “Querida, I know how much you hate others touching your bike. Under any other circumstance I wouldn’t have taken it to the shop, but I cannot trust you to not hurt yourself further by working on this bike.” Bishop sighs heavily and stares into your eyes with determination. “Now get in the truck so I can take you home.”

Okay that is what really pisses you off, logically, deep down you know that he’s only doing this because he cares about you, he would never want to see you hurt. But the insinuation that you’d put yourself in any more jeopardy by overextending yourself (no matter how true it is) irritates you.

“I’m an adult, Bishop. I don’t need your charity,” Your voice raises, and Bishop looks around for any bystanders that might be listening in.

When he’s determined that no one else is within earshot of you both, he takes ahold of your good arm. “Please, we can talk about this tomorrow, I’ll even pick you up and take you to the scrapyard tomorrow so we can both look at it.” Now, his tone may ooze confidence and finality but you can tell he’s getting desperate, almost pleading for you to just get in the truck.

One very long minute passes before your eyes are rolling and you’re moving past Bishop to grab onto the truck’s door handle. You can see him shake his head, hear the sigh that leaves his lips, and while you’re frustrated with him (immensely so), you’re partially frustrated with yourself. Receiving kindness has always been hard for you, therefore you’re prone to lashing out at those who are kind to you. And you hate it, you hate feeling like you’re pushing people away, but you don’t know any other way to live.

Maybe it’s your lingering anger, maybe it’s the pain medicine kicking in, but you don’t speak the rest of the way to your house. At one point, Bishop looks over at you and tries making small talk, but he’s quickly shut down by your non responsiveness. It’s a tense silence you two sit through, you are too upset to speak and Bishop is too tired to argue anymore.

When you do finally get to your house, you’re the first person out of the truck, limping up your porch steps so you can unlock your door. It takes a few minutes, but soon the front door is unlocked and your bag is tossed onto the floor. As you turn to shut your door, you see Bishop leaning against his truck, clearly exasperated.

Again, the beating of your heart increases and, again, you push that feeling down. Deciding that you’ve been enough of a pain in the ass tonight, you lift your good arm and wave at Bishop. A small smile makes its way onto your face, hopefully softening the blow of yelling at him earlier.

This must have calmed Bishop, because he too smiles and waves before getting back in his truck. And as you’re watching him pull out of your driveway, you can’t help but be a tad bit happy you get to see him tomorrow.

_____________

“The motor is-“

“The motor is fine!”

“It’s not supposed to-“

“I know how my bike works, alright!”

Whoever thought letting Angel tell you what was wrong with your bike deserves a kick in the head. Each time Angel opens his mouth, you’re shutting him down, not letting him get a word in. It’s tough, because as much as you don’t hate Angel, you do hate other people telling you how to fix your bike without letting you look for yourself.

“Just listen-“

“Cut that shit out!” A loud, booming voice echoes in your direction. Turning, you see Bishop making his way over to you and Angel, his eyes locked on Angel’s the whole way.

Angel’s mouth opens again, ready to stand his ground, but Bishop’s eyebrow raises and he clears his throat and that shuts Angel up. He backs down, grumbling about how you’re too difficult and frustrating to work with.

A large, calloused hand lands on your bicep and squeezes softly, effectively moving your focus from yelling at Angel. Warm eyes meet yours as you shift your head, there’s something unreadable about the look in Bishop’s eyes. It’s something you’ve seen a million times, but you’re just now noticing how soft it is. How his eyes shine just a little brighter. It’s… strange, and his stoic face doesn’t help things either, making it hard to decipher the situation.

These warm eyes, the same eyes that you’ve looked into hundreds of times, send a chill down your spine. It makes you feel guilty, immensely so, because Bishop is your friend. Your friend who helped you through the last few months of your relationship with Angel. Your friend who gave you advice and company when things were tense in your relationship. Your friend whose eyes are, very suddenly, pulling you in deep.

“C’mon querida, let’s look for ourselves.”

This snaps you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping up to meet his. A little lost in your head, you nod slowly and turn abruptly, making your way into the garage to, hopefully, leave those confusing thoughts behind.

_____________

Sweat runs down your neck, sunglasses shield your eyes from the sun hanging high in the sky. It must be 100 degrees at least, and yet your tank top and shorts still heat your skin further. The only reprieve you get from the heat is when you occasionally tread inside for water, however your AC doesn’t seem to be wanting to work today either. A fan in your garage is on high speed, circulating as much cool air as possible, it’s still not very effective.

Not only are you frustrated with the heat, you’re growing more and more frustrated with not being able to do basic things without help. So, being you, you don’t ask for help, you work around getting the things you need. You’re able to move your arm more, at-home physical therapy has been working wonders, but you’re still not able to do what you want to do, what you need to do. Which happens to be fixing your bike.

There’s not much time during the week to work on it, which is why Bishop has come to your house for the past three Sundays to help with it. Which is to say, you help him. With your arm still bandaged up you’re unable to maneuver to the exact position working on your bike requires you to be in. But, speaking of the devil, when you exit the house with yet more bottles of water, you’re granted the sight of Bishop in his white tank-top and jeans, squatting down and staring intensely at the loosely hanging chains on the broken bike.

Suddenly, like you’ve been hit by a bullet, you’re hit with a variety of emotions. Some of them you cannot name, some of them you can. The one emotion that sticks out from all of them is… infatuation? That can’t be right, you think. You’re just friends, plus, you broke up with Angel only six weeks ago, stop it.

None of these thoughts help, though. Standing in a trance-like state, each hand gripping a bottle, your breathing picks up. Why are you feeling these things now? What changed? Could it have been that he was there for you when virtually no one else was? Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel safe, like no one could hurt you. Maybe it’s because you know he wants to keep you safe, yet he chooses to let you do your thing, content in the knowledge that you’d let him know if anything happened. This realization, the fact that you’ve never had that kind of understanding with any previous relationship, almost knocks you off balance.

Six weeks, you have to remind yourself. You’ve been single for six weeks, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s not until Bishop stands to full height do you realize that you’ve been staring at him for god-knows how long. The corner of his mouth quirks up, like he knows what you’re thinking. And instead of dwelling on how refreshing that feels to have someone understand you like Bishop has been able to for the entirety of your seven year friendship, you pick your head up and smile back at him.

“I hope you’re not breaking her anymore than she already is,” You joke, a slight waver in your voice. Rough, scorching hot cement pushes you to walk forward into the shaded garage, right next to Bishop.

“Yeah, y’know, I’ve decided to leave her like that. I’m sure she’s ready to go,” Bishop’s smile widens, humor flushing out any weird tension that hung in the air only moments ago. The hand not holding the water rests on your lower back, pushing you forward.

“Well I’ll leave you up to taking the first test run, then,” You joke back, both of you staring at each other for a moment before cracking, laughter echoing through the small garage. The hand on your back stays in place, and you find yourself being pulled further into Bishop’s side. The laughter subsides, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you.

“But seriously,” You sigh, preparing yourself for the worst outcome possible. “How is she?”

Sensing your unease, Bishop grabs one of the bottles of water from your hands. “She’ll be fine,” He assures you, taking a brief moment to swallow down some much needed water. “I’ll get her working in no time.”

A quick kick to the shin makes him clear his throat and backtrack on that last comment. “We’ll get her working in no time.”

“Good, now hand me a wrench so I can put the chains where they’re actually supposed to go.” The hand you’ve outstretched towards Bishop gets smacked away, with a quick reprimand.

“How about you hand me a wrench and I’ll let you delegate on where things go.”

Seemingly okay with this compromise, you nod. Sticking your tongue out and pulling a face while you search for said wrench.

_____________

Two grueling Sundays later, and Bishop and you have finally fully repaired your bike. It was a long process, having to order parts and break apart the whole motorcycle to put said parts into place took way longer than you’d have liked.

However, many frustrating arguments and a few mistakes later, your girl is as good as new. And luckily, you had your cast taken off last week, so you were actually of physical use today. It felt good, being able to move around and stretch fully without hindrance.

The best part about that experience was getting closer to Bishop. Getting to know random new facts about him, getting to see which of your jokes and stories get the most laughs out of him, getting to see a new side of him.

From an outside perspective, you’d think he had no problem sharing these things about himself, opening up so easily. From an inside perspective, from yours, you know he’d never be so open and jovial with just anyone. The fact that Bishop, your closest friend, deemed you worthy of seeing the real him has your heart soaring. The dad-like jokes actually help too.

One particular joke from Bishop has your eyes clenching shut, your head tilting back, and your hand shooting out to hang onto his forearm while you laugh, boisterous and loud. A snort, arguably an unattractive snort, comes out next, and you rush to cover your mouth. A large, warm hand comes to your wrist not long after, pulling it down so you’re not hidden away.

Your eyes flutter open, looking right to see Bishop, staring back at you with such intensity that it catches you off guard. How his eyes flicker down to your lips for one very long moment before returning to your own eyes. It makes you gulp, butterflies filling your stomach and your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

This feeling intensifies as Bishop’s hand removes itself from your wrist to slowly encompass your cheek. Skin flushing, mouth dry, you peer down to his lips. Within seconds they start moving as he starts speaking.

“I don’t know when, or how. It was sudden. I woke up one day knowing that I wanted you, I needed you. You were with Angel at the time, so I’d never said anything. But… I can’t help but notice the way you look at me. You didn’t even look at Angel like that.”

A short pause, an intake of breath before speaking again.

“I’d like to think you feel this too.”

Time seems to move in slow motion. Two months ago you broke up with a man you cared for. Now you’re sitting in your garage with a man who cares for you. All of the indecipherable looks from him now added up, he likes you.

“I do.” You say, voice no louder than a whisper. “I feel it.” The hand cupping your cheek slides to the back of your neck, resting comfortably.

Silence fills the room, neither of you speaking for fear of ruining the moment. Until finally, Bishop’s hand squeezes your neck softly to guide you further towards him. For a long moment you stay with your lips centimeters away, eyes fluttering shut as you take a breath in.

“Obispo-“ You’re cut off abruptly by lips pressing into yours. You’re torn between being surprised and being correct in your assumptions about the way Bishop kisses. He kisses like he loves: passionate, gentle, soft.

Lips slide over each other, tongues poking out to tease the other while the hand on your neck squeezes harder. At this, a soft moan escapes your lips, allowing Bishop to slide his tongue into your mouth and explore this new territory.

A hand snakes its way up Bishop’s arm, squeezes his bicep, then cups his cheek. With tilted heads and entangled bodies, this moment is one you’ll never forget. You’d do anything to stay like this forever, but, as if by chance, a phone rings, the two of you breaking away to look at who the hell is calling.

It ends up being Taza, wondering where in the hell Bishop is when he was supposed to be at Hank’s over an hour ago. An apologetic smile forms on Bishop’s face as he nods, telling Taza he’ll be there soon. Turning to you, ready to apologize, he’s stopped by your lips covering his.

A soft, chaste kiss followed by, “It’s okay, go.”

Bishop leaves then, leaving behind a woman smiling so bright with a heart full of love.

_____________

A late Friday night, another clubhouse party in full swing. Bishop is leaning against a pool table casually watching Angel get his ass beat by Letti at a different table. It’s fun, everyone having fun while drinks flow freely. Until suddenly, Angel is grumbling, eyes trained on the front doors to see you.

The confidence you ooze, the power you hold, it’s evident to everyone in the room that you are not to be messed with. Angel clearly doesn’t get that message as he stomps in your direction. He gets no more than ten feet from you when he opens his mouth to start yelling.

No words come out though, he’s stopped by you brushing past him into Bishop’s arms. You don’t care to get into an argument tonight, despite being known for not backing down from a fight. All you care about tonight is spending time with your friends, and with Bishop.

Despite your relationship being undefined, you’re still clearly infatuated with each other, taking your time and going with the flow. You’ve managed to wrap your arms around Bishop’s waist as Angel appears in front of you both, confused as ever.

“When the hell did this happen?” It’s phrased as a question, but you can hear the hurt he’s buried deep. And while it does pain you to hurt Angel, you’re not going to let him ruin your night.

“It’s new, actually. Somewhere along the line we realized we were good for each other. Actually good for each other.”

Huffing, Angel crosses his arms over his chest and stands taller. Despite staring deep into your eyes, his next sentence isn't directed at you. “Good luck with your new girl, then. Hope you can handle her.” He’s about to turn and leave when Bishop finally speaks up.

“I know how to handle women like her, a lot better than you do.”

You can see the anger in Angel’s eyes, the gears turning in his head as he contemplates arguing with Bishop. Aggravated, Angel turns and walks towards a group of ladies entertaining themselves with other mayan men.

This calms your heart down, your anger subsides, replaced by fondness as you look up at Bishop.

“He called me ‘your girl’,” you say, smiling wide.

“And?” The questioning look on Bishop’s face causes you to giggle, as he clearly doesn’t register what you’re hinting at.

“You didn’t say that I’m not,” Your arms tighten around his waist, face inching closer to his.

A smile forms on Bishop’s face as well, chuckling softly to himself. “That’s ‘cause you are my girl. You alright with that?”

Holding your head high, one hand snakes from Bishop’s back over and up to smooth over his stomach. Letting your hand wander further upwards, you lean in close to his face so you can whisper in his ear

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

#mayans mc #mayans fx #bishop losa #bishop losa angst #bishop losa fluff #bishop losa smut #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x you #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa #mayans headcanons #mayans x reader #mayans mc imagine #my writing

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mayans-sauce · 4 years ago

Text

Mama Bear

Pairing: Bishop Losa x Female Reader

Word Count: 700

Warnings: none

Request by anon which you can find HERE

Request by @leilani-writes which you can find HERE

A/N: hope it was alright that I combined these two! I also hope it turned out good because I struggled a lot with this one but enjoy <3

GROUP CHAT for updates!

Gif Credit: @pedropcl

Bishop and you were going to invite the whole club for a little get-together at the house. Food, drinks, and good company were on the menu. You hadn’t seen them for a while because of your pregnancy and the chaos that has been the club life the recent months. You were a few months pregnant now, and the boys haven’t seen how much your bump has grown.

Bishop wouldn’t let you move a muscle, so the only thing you were allowed to do was the shopping list, while he would be the one to buy everything in and set it all up. Everyone had their particular needs and flavors for what they liked, so the list grew with each member. Being the “mom” for them all, despite being younger than most, it was your job to keep track of what your precious children loved and wanted. Bishop was sitting at the table as you read up everything that would need to be bought.

“... beers for Ez, gummies for Letty, Steve likes strawberry ice cream, and of course, we can’t forget the chicken nuggets for Angel this time. He almost had my neck when I forgot last time.” You chuckled to yourself at the funny memory of Angel being a sad and pouty boy.

“That’s a lot of shit, sweetheart,” Bishop complained in a teasing manner. “Hey, you were the one that wanted to invite the kids over,” you hit his arm with the long list, “you know how grumpy they get when they don’t get their favorites.” “Yeah, let’s not relive the last get-together we had.” You both shudder at the memory of drama and crying.

The day of the house party had come, and you stood at the door as you greeted every one of them. Their faces lit up at the sight of your baby bump, highly visible. Words and kisses were left upon it by the men that would be there to protect and love the little joy that would be born in just a few short months. They could see how happy you and Bishop were, and that left a small print of light in their dark lives as part of the MC.

Everyone was out in the backyard enjoying themselves. The sun shone down, and the music from the stereo created a relaxed atmosphere. Bishop had just fired up the grill for the heaps of meat that was ready to be grilled and consumed by some hungry bikers. The drinks and snacks went faster than you could refill it.

Since it’s been forever since you saw everyone, you went around to catch up. They all felt safe and comfortable in your presence, so they became colossal blabber mouths when you approached them. Whether it was just a quick chat or asking for some much-needed advice, you were there for them. You were always like a fun, caring, and loving “mom” to the group. Always there for them whenever with whatever they needed. You took care of them and loved them when they hadn’t anyone else to go to.

Once the sun started to come down and everyone was packed with food in their bellies and sitting in groups having conversations, you approached your husband, who was sitting somewhere to the side just enjoying that for once, his brothers had a day with no worries in their minds. You sat down on the two-seater, legs draped over him as you took a moment to rest for a bit.

“Tired?” “Ugh, yes! You try playing mom with these children in men's bodies.” The comment made him laugh some. “It’s not easy being mom and dad,” he stated.

“Like, why did we decide to get pregnant when we already have like 10 of them.” “Sorry, sweetheart, but can I just quote you in saying: fuck Bishop, please finish inside me I need to feel you.” You threw a pillow at his shoulder, “shut up,” a smirk on your face in remembering how you ended up in this situation.

“Come here.” He opened his arms for you to get between. You shared a sweet kiss as you watched over your kids, all happy and content, while caressing the one that still wasn’t born.

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Thank you for reading❤️ If you liked it, a quick reblog and feedback would be so much appreciated❤️ Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist.

MAYANS MC TAGLIST: @blessedboo @60shannon @bellisperennis0 @capnsaveahoe @diaryofkali @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @xvvalx @missswritings @theocatkov @pinguinstudiert @chibsytelford @encounterthepast @rawrlittlepanda-95 @beeroses @siriussnape07 @adaydreamaway08 @miss-nori85 @oldstuffnewstuff @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @jatriciaaa @browneyes912 @cole-winchester @blackksunflower12 @phoenixhalliwell @cant-decide-at-this-moment @love-mesome-me @holl2712 @jennisdirtyimagines @balladbloodwrites @lilacyennefer @smallflower16 @marvelmaree @brwnlikefoxy @kaylaygrace @stupiddsapphicc @violet624 @boomclapxox @mijop @macgruberrr @queen-under-the-shire @missihart23 @vixemi @heeeeeres-saint @paintballkid711 @x-goddess-of-nature-x @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mrsmarvelous1995 @luckyharley1903 @lilac-tea-time @leilaxaliel

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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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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

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Hands Off

Bishop Losa x Reader

Request by @jmvalhalla1998: Hi there! I guess this would be a request but is it possible to do a Bishop x Reader where her ex comes to town with them nothing talking to each other at all he doesn’t know she is with Bish so he tries to win her back causing Bish to get protective/territorial? You can make them engaged or have the reader pregnant if it makes it more interesting.

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This was oodles of fun to write. Who doesn’t love to see Bishop getting a little worked up and protective??

Bish Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410

You were looking at all the fresh produce in front of you, trying to figure out what exactly you wanted to pick up for dinner. Once Bishop got back from his run, he was going to be home all weekend and for you, that was worth celebrating. You toyed with the ring dangling at the end of your necklace chain, telling yourself that you had to get around to going to the jewelers to get it re-sized so you would actually wear it on your left hand. You tucked it back underneath the collar of your shirt as you started plucking a few things to put into your cart.

You were off to pick up the last of your dinner items when you heard an all-too-familiar voice, “Y/N?”

You spun around, your heart dropping into your stomach as you came face-to-face with your ex. You hadn’t seen or heard from him in three years, and that worked out incredibly well for you. He wasn’t missed by you. “What’re you doing here?” your tone had no sweetness to it.

He laughed, “That’s a funny way to say ‘I miss you’.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he forged onward despite the fact that you were letting him know that you wanted nothing to do with him, “I’m gonna be back in town for a few weeks because of work. Offer still stands, if you wanna get out of this town you’re more than welcome to come with me.”

You scoffed, “Absolutely not.”

You started to push your cart away when he spoke up again, “What’re you up to these days, anyway? You seeing anyone?”

You sighed, “As a matter of fact, yes, I am.”

He scanned the store, “Oh?”

You rolled your eyes, “Some people trust their partners to go places without them.”

He gave you a once-over, eyes lingering far too long, “I wouldn’t let you outta my sight.”

“Yea, you made that abundantly clear a few years ago. If you had any long-term memory at all you’d remember that that was half the reason I let you leave without me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish my grocery shopping,” you huffed and walked away, desperate to get out of the store and as far away from him as possible.

You tried your hardest to push the interaction from your mind as you worked on putting dinner together when you got home. You had gotten a text from Bishop that he was less than an hour out and it made you get your butt in gear and start cooking. If you timed it right, it would be done just after he got home. He always told you that you didn’t need to make a fuss when he came back from runs, but you couldn’t help it. And truthfully, you knew that he enjoyed it.

You were setting out plates and silverware when you heard the door open. You looked up, a smile on your face when you saw Bishop standing in the doorway. He dropped his bag to the floor and held his arms out. You couldn’t help but to laugh as you ran over and jumped into his arms, letting him sweep you off the floor and spin you around in a hug.

You hooked your legs around his waist and kissed him, “I missed you.”

He chuckled as he hooked his hands together underneath your legs, “I missed you too.”

You let him go unpack and change into a more comfortable set of clothes while you finished bringing everything to the table. You smiled as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you so that your back was pressed up against his chest. He pressed kisses along your shoulder and neck.

“I told you, you don’t have to do all this.”

You smiled, resting your hands on top of his, “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. It gives me a reason to actually do something with myself besides miss you while you’re gone.”

He chuckled, “You’re breaking my heart, querida.”

The two of you had dinner together, and all you could think about was how nice it was to have him home again. You knew that his life was never going to allow him to be home all the time, and you accepted that, but that acceptance never made you miss him any less. You couldn’t stop staring at him as he gave you all the highlights of the run.

After dinner, the two of you were curled up in bed watching a movie. You idly toyed with the ring on the end of your necklace chain as you soaked up all of Bishop’s body heat underneath your mountain of blankets. As your fingers slid across the smooth metal band, the events that happened at the grocery store all came racing back and you instantly felt a knot forming in your stomach all over again.

Bishop felt you tense up and he looked over at you, “Everything alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Yea. I just, um, there was something I forgot to mention.”

He paused the movie, “What’s going on?”

You had no idea how to start this conversation with him. Nothing really happened, but you still felt like you should tell him, “When I was at the store today, I, uh, I ran into my ex.”

His brows furrowed. He wasn’t the type to get jealous, but he also knew that your ex hadn’t treated you well and that was his real issue. “What happened? I thought that he was gone?”

You shrugged, “He’s back in town for a while for work I guess. I don’t think that he’s a real threat or anything I just, I don’t know,” you shook your head, “I felt so skeeved out after talking to him, that’s all. I’m not telling you because I want you to do anything about it, I just figured I should let you know.”

He’d never met your ex—he was long gone by the time that you and Bishop had gotten together. But the stories that you told him were enough. The protective part of him was kicking into gear as he processed what you were telling him. Even though you said that you didn’t want him to do anything about it, that was exactly what he was planning to do.

“Hey,” you gently squeezed his arm, “Obispo, I mean it. Don’t do anything stupid—he’s not worth it.”

He kissed your forehead, “I love you.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “I love you too, but that’s not a response to what I just said.”

He pulled you closer, your face resting against his chest, “It’s my response to everything you say.”

You didn’t push it, knowing that whatever Bishop was thinking about doing wasn’t anything that you were going to be able to talk him out of. The more you thought about it, the more you hoped that the odds would be on your side and that the two of them just wouldn’t cross paths for however long your ex was in town. They didn’t run in the same circles, so maybe, just maybe, you’d luck out.

Those thoughts got pushed from your mind, though, as Bishop started peppering kisses along your neck and jaw. You laughed and melted into him, happy to forget about whatever the future was going to hold that was out of your control.

The next morning, Bishop was up bright and early. He nudged you awake, telling you he wanted to take you out to coffee and breakfast at the café in town. As much as you wanted to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing all day, it had been a while since the two of you had a breakfast date, so you agreed.

He took you on the bike, which you loved. There was something exhilarating about not just riding through town on the back of his bike, but also just walking around with your hand entwined with his. Even when he was off the clock, he was almost always in his kutte. It made him stand out a little more but you didn’t mind it, especially because some of that confidence seeped over into you. There was something special about the president of the MC doting on you, keeping you pressed up against his side as you made your way through town.

His phone rang right before you walked into the café. He looked down at the screen and then back to you, “Want to grab us a table? I’ll be right in. Less than five, I promise.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “Anything for you,” you gave him a quick peck on the lips before walking in and asking for a table for two.

You were scanning over the menu when you heard footsteps approaching your table. You assumed it was going to be Bishop, or a waiter, but instead you looked up and into the face of the man you hoped you would go the next few weeks without seeing again.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You sighed, muttering somewhat under your breath, “You gotta be kidding me.”

Without bothering to ask, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, “Some might say that this is a sign.”

“A warning sign, maybe,” you said with a shake of your head, “I’m engaged. Let it go.”

“Engaged and going out to breakfast by yourself?”

“I’m not by my—”

He held his hand up to stop you, “C’mon, just grab one drink with me tonight. One drink, and if you still want nothing to do with me, I’ll leave you alone forever.”

You looked up and you saw Bishop standing behind his chair, looking larger than life. You pressed your lips together, waiting for your fiancé to say something. He cleared his throat, “Sounds like something you should be doing anyway.”

He instinctively went to push the chair back, but Bishop was blocking him in. his hand came to rest on your ex’s shoulder, and from the look of pain on the man’s face, Bishop was exercising his grip strength a little bit.

“Y/N mentioned that you were back in town.”

“Oh? She did?”

“Yea,” Bishop’s other hand gripped his free shoulder, “she also mentioned that you have a bad habit of not minding your fucking business.”

Your ex was all but trembling in his seat, and it would’ve been a lie to say that you weren’t enjoying every second of the scene unfolding in front of you. You didn’t need Bishop to look out for you, but you enjoyed that he did anyway. And, judging by the satisfied smirk that was creeping onto his face, Bishop enjoyed it too.

“Look, I’m just saying,” you could tell that your ex was scrambling to string the words together, “she seems to be on her own an awful lot. Must get lonely.”

“And you’re just here to remedy that loneliness, is that it?” Bishop’s tone was begging him to say something stupid.

“Well, someone should.”

“Hmm,” you could see his grip tightening on your ex’s shoulders, “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about,” he leaned down so that he could speak a little quieter, “But god help me if I ever see you anywhere near my wife ever again I will break every one of your fingers, one at a time, and then make you drive yourself home. We clear?”

He nodded, fear written all over his face, “C-clear.”

“Good,” Bishop finally released his grip, “Now get the fuck out so we can have breakfast.”

He stood up, giving you one last look to see if you had anything to say. You gave him a sickly sweet smile and waved goodbye without a word, and he scampered out the door. You turned your attention back to Bishop, who was sitting down in his seat.

You smiled at him as he sat down, reaching your hands across the table so you could hold them in your own, “How good did that feel?” there was a hint of laughter in your voice.

He smiled at you, his voice quiet, “Really fucking good.”

You gave his hands a light squeeze, “Also, getting a preview of what it’s going to be like hearing you refer to me as your wife? What a rush,” you giggled.

He lifted your hands up and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “You’ve got a whole lifetime of that ahead of you, sweetheart.”

#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 #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #bishop losa fanfiction #bishop losa fluff

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bishop423 · 1 year ago

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michaelirby · 3 years ago

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*antoni porowski voice* sometimes Bishop doing laundry and being domestic can be so personal

#i love two (2) men #antoni and bishop #mayans mc #mayans fx #bishop losa #bishop losa fluff #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa imagine #jexxy yells into the void #my stuff

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the-purity-pen · 3 years ago

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this was so incredible! i would do ANYTHING for that man. including but not limited to massaging his stress away. PLEASE.

A Quiet Moment

Bishop Losa x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 750

Prompt: “as your lover is undressing, you come up from behind, tracing kisses from their neck to their shoulders, as you feel them leaning into your touch” for Bishop (requested by anon for my 3k follower celebration)

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, hint of spice (my blog is still 18+ only!!)

Notes: Oh Bishop my love!! You may have been an ass this past season, but I still love you lol! Thank you so much, anon for the request! I really enjoyed writing this one!

I also have an update blog to stay up to date on when I post @flightlessangelwings-updates

It was late when you finally made it home, and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and into your lover’s arms. It was a stressful time for both of you, and you wanted to be there for him as best as you could. Bishop had been through so much in his life, and you hoped that you were a brief relief from the pressures that constantly weighed on his shoulders.

Keep reading

#fic rec #bishop losa #bishop losa fic #bishop losa fluff #mayans mc #mayans mc fic #jey tag

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bucksangel · 4 years ago

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Starry Eyes

Pairing: Bishop Losa x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Bishop's been having a rough few weeks, so you're determined to take his mind off of whatever plagues him.

Warnings: fluff out the ass, kinda femdom??? not really but the reader does take charge🥵, Bishop being a good man and letting reader worship and fuck him like he deserves, unprotected sex (p in v), light oral (m receiving), body worship, creampie, squirting, dirty talk

Tip Jar

Tagging: @est1887 @melaniecraig80

a/n: there is absolutely no way I will pass up an opportunity to write something filthy for my husband, so enjoy!

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

It started with breakfast. Typically, Bishop wakes up at the crack of dawn, well before you have to be awake, and goes about his routine silently. This routine includes showering, brushing his teeth, downing a cup of black coffee, and then heading to the clubhouse. You’ve known about this routine for a while, it’s hard not to when you also wake when he does, the sudden lack of warmth always rouses you.

So, you’ve started waking up even earlier to make him breakfast, even if it’s simply bacon and eggs, you’re determined to get some nutrition in his body before he leaves the house. You make sure to slide back into bed before Bishop rises, lest he find you in the kitchen at 4:30 in the morning. The first time he slipped out of bed and made his way into the kitchen, a note was stuck to the microwave, inside was a breakfast fit for a king.

Bishop hadn’t grumbled about it, even if he didn't agree with you changing your sleeping habits just to do this for him, he wasn’t going to complain, nor make you feel bad. Instead, each morning he’d leave you’d feel his lips pressed to your forehead followed by a thank you, querida.

Then, it was the random gift basket you’d had your friend deliver directly to the clubhouse last week. Now, you know Bishop well enough to know exactly what he likes and doesn’t, so the gift basket had included a new carton of cigarettes, a few kinds of jerky, and a small assortment of fruit. The fruit was more of a truce, he could indulge in his unhealthy habits as long as he ate something relating to nutrition.

Through your friend you found out that as she was leaving, Angel had thrown a jab at Bishop for popping a slice of melon into his mouth. What made you laugh the most was Bishop saying something along the lines of make one more joke about my girl taking care of me and I'll take your kutte.

This last Monday you’d snuck a polaroid in his wallet, a risqué photo of you in nothing but his flannel and a pair of panties posing on the bed, laid out like a queen. Bishop had shown his appreciation for that picture as soon as he’d come home, skipping dinner altogether so he could spend the next two hours feasting between your thighs.

You weren’t being sneaky, you know that. You also know that Bishop is aware of your thought processes behind each gift you give him, yet he chooses not to say anything. Probably because he enjoys indulging in your antics, but that doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is the pie you’ve just put in the oven and the steak cooling on the counter from having just come off the grill.

What matters is that, while he greatly appreciates your actions, Bishop’s been in a funk for the last two weeks, rarely allowing himself the time to be vulnerable in front of you. Therefore, you’ve taken it upon yourself to ease his stress, take his mind off whatever it is that’s bothering him, if even for a night.

The sudden roar of a motorcycle engine snaps you out of your thoughts, has you rushing around the kitchen to prepare the food on plates and grab beers. By the time you’ve set the table, the front door opens and Bishop enters.

He’s quiet as he pads down the hall into the kitchen, probably from taking off his shoes at the door. Behind you, you hear him whistle, a smile appearing on your face as you turn to face him.

“And what did I do to deserve this?” Bishop asks, licking his bottom lip before walking towards you further. Clearly entranced by one of his shirts hanging off your figure.

Shrugging, you smile wider, meeting him halfway and embracing each other tightly. With your head resting on Bishop’s chest, you sigh happily, any worries melting away.

“You’ve been in a funk lately,” You state, squeezing his middle tighter. “You don’t have to tell me why, but I figured that I could at least pamper you a little, maybe take your mind off of it.” Delicately placing a kiss to his kutte, you pull away, hands wandering around his middle and snaking up to cup Bishop’s cheeks.

“You deserve to be pampered and loved on the same way you do with me.” With that, you guide his head down as you push up on your toes to meet him in a kiss.

Softly and slowly, your lips glide across his, pecking him once, then twice before he’s gripping your waist tighter and pulling you further into him. With this angle, Bishop is able to plant a down-right filthy kiss to your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth to caress your own. A deep grunt exits Bishop’s mouth when you roll your hips against his, his grip tightening on them.

You have enough sense of mind to pull away before things go further, and you don’t miss the way Bishop damn near pouts.

“Later, I promise,” You whisper, a sly grin morphing onto your face. “I’m not going to ruin your surprise so early.” And with that, you detach yourself from Bishop so you can push him in the direction of the dining room.

This time he does pout, but nods and walks into the dining area while you check on the pie. After deciding that it’s good to stay in for another twenty minutes, you walk into the dining room as well.

Dinner passes quickly, clearly Bishop is trying to get to his surprise as soon as possible, you can tell by the way his hand keeps landing on your thigh. Each time, you laugh and push it off, admonishing him for getting distracted, and reminding him that you are in charge tonight.

Once you’ve both eaten, you shoo Bishop towards your bedroom so you can clean up and finish with dessert, though you have an inkling you won’t actually be eating it tonight.

“Amor!” Bishop calls, bordering on whining.

This causes you to chuckle, while your man is big and scary, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’s soft for you. His bravado fades the second he has you in his arms, his need to love and protect you outweighs anything else. This kind of love, his absolute devotion to you, is what solidified in your mind that you need to treat him as well. It’s only fair, after all.

Finally you make your way into the bedroom, Bishop is sprawled across the bed, arms crossed behind his head and legs spread wide. Again, you chuckle. He’s in a clingy mood, you can tell. Long ago Bishop gave up pretending he didn’t enjoy these nights. While they don’t happen regularly - neither of your schedules allow for that - once he’s accepted this night is about him he indulges in it fully.

You stop yourself at the entryway to your bedroom, leaning your head against the doorframe. The sight before has your breath catching in your throat, no matter how long you’ve been together, Bishop’s beauty never ceases to amaze you. He’s taken off his socks and Kutte, now lying on the bed in just his jeans and a black shirt that may or may not be a size too small for him. You don’t mind it though, his muscles bulging out of the fabric almost makes you want to skip straight to the main event.

“I almost thought you’d leave me hanging,” Bishop says, voice smooth and soft, unlike his usually demanding tone he saves for his brothers. “Y’know, it’s not nice to leave your man waiting.”

“Well I’m sorry, cariño. I didn’t know you needed to be babysat.” Giggling, you saunter over to him, stopping at the edge of the bed and in between Bishop’s legs. Teasingly poking at his jean covered thigh you say, “Besides, I had to get things ready for you.”

At this, Bishop perks up, shifting so he’s sitting up, eye level with your chest. His hands find their way to your hips, not quite squeezing, just holding.

“Ready for what?” His smirk and the quirk of his eyebrow has you immediately pushing him to lie back against the bed again.

“Don’t start, Obispo,” A warning glare is sent his way, and you see his chest rise and fall with the sigh that falls from his lips. “You’re going to lay there and not make any suggestive comments, you’re not going to move, until I say you can.”

Bishop hums, the smirk still present, “Yes ma’am.”

And oh do you like the sound of that, Bishop succumbing to your will and letting you do to him as you please. But you’ll dwell on that later, right now you’re focused on getting him relaxed and happy.

Bishop doesn’t say anything when you kneel, though you know he wants to. Nor does he say anything when you run your hands up his calves, to his thighs, and then to his crotch. Peering up through your lashes, you see a sparkle in Bishop’s eyes, already glossing over from the spell you’re putting him under.

“I love you, you know that?” You’re slow to unbuckle his belt, savoring the power he’s handed over.

“I love your thighs,” You pop the button on his jeans, pulling the zipper down ever so slowly. “They’re so strong, I love sitting on them. At the clubhouse, in our living room, I don’t care where, because in your lap is where I belong.”

Bishop lifts his hips so you can drag his pants down, making sure to keep his boxers in place despite his ever present need for you to wrap your fingers around his cock. Once they’re pulled down to his ankles, you maneuver his legs so you can discard the material, throwing it into the corner of the room. You look up to see his hands clenching, grasping the bedsheets in an attempt to not touch you like you’d requested.

Your hands caress his thighs, down to his calves, and back up again, making sure to press feather-light kisses wherever you want. After the fourth kiss, this time on his inner thigh, you push yourself forward and straddle him, making sure to not brush his half-hard erection.

“I love your stomach,” Your hands tug at Bishop’s shirt, sliding it up so you can caress his stomach and waist. “I love when you let me lay my head here, my arms wrapped around you while you hold me too.” Delicately, you rake your nails down to his pubic bone, the hitch in his breath and the shiver running down his spine does not go unnoticed.

Smiling to yourself, you bend down to place more kisses, starting at his belly button and working upwards to where the edge of his shirt rests just below his pecs. The shirt gets moved higher up, but not yet discarded altogether.

“And this chest,” You sigh dreamily, quickly leaning up to nip at one of his pecs, right above his nipple. Again, he shivers, his hands unclenching and falling limp at his side. “This is my favorite pillow, resting my head and listening to your heart beating calms me like no other.”

Another kiss is placed to his other pec, and on a whim you decide to actually bite down, sucking softly until you’re sure a mark has been left. Another sigh tumbles from his lips, and if you listen hard enough you’d hear the tiniest of whines.

Finally, finally, you maneuver his limbs to take his shirt off, gently letting his arms settle against the bed. You run your arms over his chest and collarbone, down to his biceps so you can massage them. This time, you sigh, love consuming your entire body as you shift to settle directly over his crotch, applying light pressure to his partially hard cock.

It’s almost overwhelming how much you need to show your love for this man, your man.

“And these arms, strong as ever. Able to carry 100 lbs, and hold me close.” Continuing your massage, your hands travel down his forearms, rubbing your thumbs in circular motions. “They make me feel safe, they protect me. When I’m in your arms, no matter where we are, I’m home.” You lift his arms one at a time to place soft kisses to his wrists.

“You are my home. From now until my last day.”

Tears pool in Bishop’s eyes, threatening to spill due to the love surrounding you both like a blanket. You smile wider, moving his hands to your mouth so you can place kisses on his knuckles, kisses onto each of his fingertips, and kisses to his palms.

“Your hands though, they’re something else entirely. Rough and calloused from years of hard work, yet soft and tender when they caress me.” To prove your point, you rest his hands on your hips, the soft grip he holds is merely to let you know that he’s here, forever.

“They give me pleasure like no other man has, no other man could ever. They worship me, grasp me, make me succumb to the pleasure only you can provide.” At this point, tears threaten to spill from your eyes as well. The greatest gift of your life is and always will be Bishop.

But you don’t cry just yet, you’re intent on crying only when he’s finally nestled deep inside of you. Instead, you push yourself forward to graze his lips with your own, pulling back just enough to gaze into your lover's eyes, now closed.

Your hands move to cradle his face, a cheek in each hand so you can lean down and place a kiss to each eyelid.

“And your eyes, so full of love and light, so warm and deep. Two years in and you still look at me with the same love and awe as you did when we first met.” You have to close your eyes now, too overwhelmed with emotion to control the stray tears slipping down your cheeks. You rest your forehead against Bishop’s, simply breathing each other in.

“I’m in love with you, all of you, with my entire being.” Unprompted but not unwelcome, Bishop tilts his head so he can graze your lips again. This time, you indulge him, pecking his lips once, then twice, before pressing a longer, more passionate kiss.

Your lips glide together, moving in harmony. Tongues poking out to tease the other, but not quite delving into the comfortable warmth your mouths provide.

“I love you,” Bishop croaks when you pull back, his entire body slumped into the mattress, at total peace. His eyes open, and you’re surprised by the look in them. Tears drip down the side of his face and there’s a far away look in his warm eyes. It’s like he’s not all the way here, but not the bad kind. Like he’s so relaxed, so at ease, that he’s floating on clouds.

“I love you too, amor,” Is whispered against his lips.

Far too soon for your liking, you lean back and crawl backwards so you’re back on your knees on the floor in between Bishop’s spread legs. He doesn’t seem to mind though, his eyelids drooping down to peer at you.

“And of course, with that, comes loving your cock,” He shudders as you finally peel his boxers off. You toss those aside and quickly take him in your hand, fingers wrapping around his girth before gently massaging it.

Before he can hiss in discomfort from the rough friction, you gather saliva in your mouth and let it fall from your lips, directly onto the tip. You hear Bishop grunt, and that spurs you to keep going. So, you move your hand upwards to massage the saliva around the tip of his cock, slowly working down until his entire length has enough slickness for you to really work your magic.

You’re slow, fingers massaging and gliding up and down, your wrist twisting every so often. The small sighs turn into quiet moans, which then turns into a louder moan as you kiss his tip.

“I’ll never get tired of feeling it deep inside me, holding it, tasting it. If I had it my way, I’d suck your cock for hours on end, let you cum in my mouth as many times as you want.”

This sparks an idea in your brain, and you’re quick to smile innocently up at him while you lick along his cock, following the prominent vein with your tongue. “Maybe we can do that one day, let me suck your cock for hours. I can edge you, perhaps, bring you to the brink of pleasure over and over again until you can’t help but spill your cum down my throat.”

“I’ll drink it all, savor it on my tongue for as long as I can.” Hot breath fans over his cock, causing him to shudder again while he lets out an even louder moan.

Delicately, you place another kiss to the tip of his cock, then press kisses all along his length, stopping every so often to suckle, sometimes even nipping at the sensitive appendage.

He’s rock hard by now, standing proud against his stomach, tip red and angry as pre-cum smears across his belly. Then, you quickly swipe your tongue down over his balls, sucking one into your mouth while cupping the other. You moan, and Bishop swears under his breath, the vibrations sending shockwaves down his spine. Moving to the other, suck it into your mouth as well, humming and suckling until you’re sure he might cum.

You don’t want him to cum just yet, you need to feel it buried deep in your pussy, need to feel him fill your cunt so much that it drips down your thighs. That thought is what motivates you to crawl up his body, covering Bishop’s body with yours. Your arms cage him in - not like he’d want to leave them anyway - and your hips settle down over full hard cock.

Only now is he able to feel that you’re not wearing panties, your bare crotch pressed into his. Slowly and teasingly you pull your shirt up your chest, untangling them from your arms so you can toss them aside, all the while looking down at Bishop. His eyes have opened fully now, mouth hanging open as he takes in the sight before him.

With your breasts now on display, your surprise is revealed, showing two-day fresh nipple piercings. It’s nothing fancy, just the simple silver bars they first pierce with. They’re also pretty tender and sore, and you know Bishop is going to have a hard time not playing with them immediately. But you can tell Bishop loves them nonetheless.

“No touching,” You admonish, seeing his hands reach forward to instead cup your breasts. Bishop massages them, careful not to disturb the piercings while also itching to touch at least part of you.

“Can’t help it, querida,” Bishop rasps, running his tongue along his bottom lip before biting into the soft flesh. “You’re just so damn beautiful.”

Feeling flushed, you rest your hands on top of his, guiding his movements while swiveling your hips. Bishop hisses, his eyes clenching shut as you swivel just right so his cock slides between your folds. The slick your pussy is leaking out coats him, the tip of his cock nudging your clit with every motion.

You both moan at this, the friction is delicious. Swiveling your hips more, faster, you have to abruptly stop yourself before you cum too early. Then, you’re lifting your hips and grasping his cock. Bishop’s hands continue their assault on your breasts leaning up to kiss and suck on them as he feels his cock finally slip into your folds.

While you wanted to tease him a little longer, the burning in your core pushes you to align him with your dripping pussy. As soon as the head of his cock breaches your hole, both of you let out sighs of relief. You’re slow to settle on him fully because, no matter how many times you have sex, you’ll never be used to how big he actually is.

“God I love you,” Bishop says, winded. His hands have made themselves comfortable on your hips, guiding you down until you’re seated on his crotch, pussy filled to the brim.

“I love you, Obispo,” You whisper back, leaning your head back and planting your hands on his chest so you can rock your hips in time with Bishop’s breathing.

Swiveling your hips faster, you lift up and sink down onto his cock again, rolling against him every time you’re fully connected. Your hands that are pressed against Bishop’s chest clench, fingernails digging into his flesh, causing him to hiss. It’s clearly not unpleasant, you know this as soon as his cock twitches deep inside you. Throwing your head further back and arching every so slightly so you can bounce with vigor.

“Bish - oh!” You’re crying out when Bishop cants his hips upwards, his grip on your hips tightening.

“Feels good, huh querida?” You don’t even have to open your eyes to know Bishop is smirking, the cockiness in his tone tells you everything you need to know.

“Yes, oh god yes,” Whimpering and forcing yourself to bounce faster, you can tell you’re almost ready to cum. But, deciding to tease both of you further, the next time you sink down you stay put, not even grinding against his crotch.

One of Bishop’s hands slides to your back and down to your ass, kneading and massaging the supple flesh while simultaneously trying to get you to pick up the pace. You don’t. Instead, you force yourself to stay put, sinking your claws deeper into Bishop’s chest as you look down at him with a smirk of your own.

“But what did I tell you earlier?” You ask, cocking your head to the side and rocking back and forth at a torturously slow pace. “I am in charge tonight. Which means you’re going to stay put and let me lead.”

Before Bishop gets a chance to reply, you lift up until just the tip of his cock is in you and shove yourself back down. The moans he lets out are downright filthy, pornographic almost. They’re nothing compared to yours though, because as soon as you lift up and sink back down, his cock hits the soft, spongy patch hidden in your walls.

It really is tortuous though, every so often you’re stopping to just rock against him, Bishop’s hand still planted firmly on your ass. Through the fog in your brain, you look down and register the glossy look that has once again filled Bishop’s eyes. Now, deciding to up the ante, one of your hands travels to his pectoral, rubbing your fingertips over and around his left nipple.

“Honey,” Bishop whispers, and you can tell his brain is fogging over. And then, he does the one thing you never thought he’d say. “Please, querida.”

A loud, choked off moan tumbles from your lips, hearing Bishop ask, beg, for more sends you even higher into your bliss. With renewed vigor, you decide to ease his pain, riding him in earnest. With each snap of your hips downward, he hits that same spot over and over again, your own eyes filling with tears as the fire in your core burns brighter.

“That’s it baby, god you’re so fucking beautiful,” Bishop says, eyes nearly rolling back into his head when you scratch lightly over his nipple.

“You gonna cum?” You tease, bringing his hand from your hip to your front, guiding it down until his thumb brushes over your clit.

“Gonna fill me up? Pump me so full of your cum that it leaks out? I want it so bad, baby, need it.” You’re vaguely aware of the words spilling from your mouth, definitely not aware of the tears streaming down your cheeks as you feel the coil in your belly tighten.

“Make me cum, Bishop. Make me cum and I’ll let you fill me up as much as you need.” He clearly doesn’t need any further prompting, because his thumb starts rubbing furiously against your clit. Shockwaves shoot down your spine, snapping your hips down at an almost inhuman speed.

And with a perfectly timed thrust, your vision whites out, everything going blurry as you cum. And it’s not even that, you’re more so squirting, your juices coating his lap and the bedsheets underneath. You let Bishop help guide your hips, unsteadily rocking and jumping against him.

“Now, Bishop,” You pinch his nipple, one hand slithering up his chest to wrap around his throat, not quite squeezing. “Cum in me. Now.”

And he does, he cums with the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard him emit. You can feel him shooting his sperm into your womb, his cock nudging against your cervix.

It takes maybe a full minute before Bishop stops cumming, clearly so pent up with emotions and lust that he can’t seem to stop himself. Not that you mind, of course, seeing Bishop lose himself so completely brings you greater pleasure than your own orgasm. It takes another three minutes before he lets you go, gingerly lifting off of his cock to slump onto the bed next to him.

Bishop is breathing erratically, his soft cock still twitching due to the aftershocks of his orgasm. But finally, once he’s calm enough to speak, his voice is soft and slow.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was,” He rasps out. “But that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

You chuckle, too spent to do anything else but admire your man as his head lolls to the side to stare into your eyes.

“So, you wanna try that again?” You tease, your hand reaching for his to squeeze it comfortingly.

“Fuck yes.”

You’ll worry about cleaning up later, for now you’re content to lay next to Bishop, gazing into each other’s eyes until you drift into a deep slumber.

#mayans mc #mayans fx #bishop losa #bishop losa smut #bishop losa fluff #bishop losa angst #bishop losa x you #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa imagine #my writing

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