#ezekiel reyes x black!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cloveroctobers · 2 years ago

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black mascara — EZ REYES

A|N: in honor of the season 5 trailer, I had to write a little something. This one will actually be small since I don’t have too much to go off of in writing this but I can’t lie and say I’m not a little fired up! So get comfy.

GIF BELONGS to: @dailymayans

·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆·

“See that crave for power…that’s seeping through your pores is exactly what’s gonna get you killed, Ezekiel.”

“…if that happens to be the case, I hope they know their prayers well because I’ll still be here from beyond the grave.”

She did not know this person that she sat face to face with. She didn’t even know what that statement means. Majority of the time Hadiza kept out of The Mayans business, despite the fact that her older brother Franky interacted with them from time to time. She knew Ezekiel way before he decided to join the club and although she’s seen the Mayans around town, she didn’t have much of a opinion when the man first brought the idea to the table a week before his release.

Now she wished she would have.

Back then she trusted that Ez knew what he was doing.

This Ezekiel was not the man she used to know.

Hadiza had a feeling this would happen, that as soon as Ezekiel got into the president’s chair, a whole new level of danger would be unleashed. She saw the shift in Ezekiel throughout his time in the charter happen gradually, that her worries started to keep her up at night. The lack of sleep even proposed her to talk to Felipe about it, who simply listened and still had faith in his baby boy until Gabby came around.

Which was kinda foul the longer she thought about it. Was her word really not good enough when she’s been around? She’ll have to take that up with Felipe at a later time, respectfully.

She’s known Ezekiel since high school…it’s been years since they stepped into their adulthood. However a good portion of Ezekiel’s youth was ripped away from him the night his mother died.

Yes people change…but not like this.

Hadiza was beginning to think that a piece of Ezekiel died with his mother that day but what could she say about him now? So much has happened since then and He wasn’t the same—sure it was foolish to think that he would be completely healed from that tragedy but the light in his pretty honey eyes, did not reflect what was beyond them or what was on the outside.

“So that’s it then,” she raised her shoulders, “you’re gonna waste your life away for reckless shit? You’re better than this Ezekiel.”

“What do you exactly expect me to do? This is the duty that I’ve strived for. And you’re looking at me as if we didn’t know it would always end up being this way. I know you didn’t think this shit was rainbows and daisies, you’re much smarter than gabby in that sense.” Ezekiel bit, yanking a cigarette from his pocket.

Hadiza shook her head, “speaking ill of the dead…somebody that you killed and claimed to love like she was just nothing to you. I’m not feeling this. Or you.”

“There’s the door, fucking use it,” Ezekiel flared his nostrils as he pointed at the exit, “you’re the one who came here trying to preach to me what I’ve already heard. And what I’ve told myself before back when I was weak. What? you thought shit was gonna change because it’s coming from you? I’ve got to be smarter than that, especially when it comes to the club and nothing you can say to me right now…matters.”

“Then what does, motherfucker?!” She was on her feet now, “greed? Selfishness? No wait. I got it, your ego.”

The man lifted his shoulders, not needing to say anything more or seemed to be the least bit phased by the irritation that was showing in his long-time friend’s frame.

“Going after the sons—

“I don’t want to hear it.” Ez glared, “I’ve seen enough wars to not fear a damn thing. Don’t you ever question: Where does fear get you, diza? Look in the mirror. Everybody pays a price with the cards they’ve been dealt.”

The woman chewed down on her bottom lip in annoyance, “and just how much are you willing to lose?”

“That’s something I’ve got to reflect on in my own time…but you’re here.” Ezekiel kept his eyes trained on the woman, puffing on his cigarette.

Before Hadiza could lose the courage she said, “Fuck your subliminal and fuck you.”

“We’ve already done that, remember? With Sofia watching in the background. I think the message then was very clear and something you should thank me for.”

That was so low and disrespectful, considering that Hadiza had a moment and went to someone who she thought cared about her well-being. At that time she just received the news that her fiancé wanted to break off the engagement after cheating on her with a co-worker and the first person she went to was Ezekiel. He was the first person she thought about and felt complete with—a mistake on her end, sure but she wasn’t expecting him to have company other than Sally.

The smirk that was on his lips was smacked right off by her hand. However that did not stop Ez from yanking on her wrist and getting into her face.

Anyone was fair game at this point.

This she knew deep down.

He could end it all, right here in this trailer.

What made her any different?

Did he even love her anymore? Or was she just another ploy in the way Ezekiel floated around life now? Hadiza was not part of the club so why was she becoming collateral damage?

“You don’t get to come here and think our friendship and reminiscing about the old times, or guilt trip me about Gabby, would stop me or save me from myself. That’s not your job, never was amor. Sorry I couldn’t live in your fantasy of being a good ol’ friend to you anymore. But that’s life, so either continue standing by and keep your mouth shut or take a walk and don’t look back.” Ezekiel gritted into her face and that hurt more than him squeezing her wrist.

The black ink dripped down her brown cheeks as she hissed, “you’re done to me.”

And this she hoped she meant. She couldn’t stick around and she knew Ezekiel was pushing her to do so but ultimately it was her choice. Her eyes stung from the makeup as she clenched them closed, fighting away the memories of their teenage years: watching Ezekiel love Emily, having intense debates over literature in class and outside of, him being there for her first heartbreak and attempting to get angel to drive him to the asshole who broke her heart house to egg it and piss on their front doorstep, to Marisol Reyes encouraging her to keep loving her son the best way that she knew how…

“Good,” Ezekiel breathed into her face, shoving her fist back down her by her sides.

He broke eye contact after awhile since she no longer had any words for him. He placed the cigarette back to his lips as he slouched back on the couch. Hadiza swiped the mascara from the bags underneath her eyes, deeply inhaling and battled with herself on what to do or say.

The words fell empty just like the relationship she once had with the man she called her best friend.

She sniffed as she snatched up her bag, making sure she had her keys before she took her exit. The door to the trailer opened on her way, revealing Sofia who easily picked up on the tension in the home. Her dark eyes shifted between the pair but Hadiza patiently waited for the wavy haired woman to get out of her way.

Ez pressed his elbows into his knees as he grunted, “What is it, Sofia?”

If Hadiza continued to be foolish she would have tried to believe that the tone of his voice was telling her something, besides him being an asshole. That perhaps he didn’t truly want their friendship to end but that’s the difference between the two, she didn’t have to be selfish.

“Um, you’ve some company. Bishop and Tranq are outside.” Sofia informed as she stepped into the trailer with Sally.

Ez quickly got to his feet, putting his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray and brushed his shoulder by Hadiza as he left the trailer. Sofia easily picked up on the woman taking a sharp breath at his actions but didn’t speak on it.

It didn’t take the most intelligent person to understand that something transpired between the two. Their relationship didn’t threaten what she had with EZ and in a way, Sofia actually thought it was beautiful. How their relationship didn’t appear to be transactional or circumstantial. How simply being next to each other was enough for them. Or it used to be. Yet Sofia wasn’t naïve to think that it would last with the new propositions EZ took on.

Sometimes that’s just the way life worked out and the sooner Hadiza figured that out…maybe she could protect her heart a bit better.

It was a little awkward as Hadiza had to collect herself, hand on the trailer’s door before she went outside. Sofia wasn’t one for words and she wasn’t sure anything she could say would provide comfort for Hadiza either. After what happened right here in this trailer, weeks ago, it’s not like the two had the chance to really talk about it.

They didn’t have to but it seemed like Hadiza always had a lot on her mind.

Thankfully for Sofia, Hadiza pushed the door open, not sparing her a glance, either placing herself on autopilot or trying her best to ignore her presence—it didn’t bother Sofia one way or another as Hadiza left the home.

“See you around then,” Sofia muttered, taking a seat on the couch, after the door clicked shut behind Hadiza.

Her long legs kicked up the dirt as she passed by the group of men on the side. She couldn’t get away from the place fast enough, feeling her heart being squeezed with each step she took.

“Hey,” Tranq started to call out to the woman but it was almost as if she heard nothing while she shoved herself into her car.

Bishop’s eyes were back on EZ as his eyes briefly burned into Hadiza’s retreating form. He just knew the Reyes brother fucked that up and it’s a shame because he was fond of the girl, despite her having a connection to a pig. Of course he never fully trusted her (by no fault of her own) but she was kind enough whenever she rarely showed up to club.

He kept it silent but he knew his body language did enough talking for him as EZ focused back on him.

“Tonight is the night, round everybody up.” Ez ordered, stalking off and daring a glance at Hadiza’s car and over his shoulder as he stood on the steps of his trailer, while she backed off the lot and sped away, eyes solely on what was in front of her and not what was left behind in the rear view.

Ez swallows down the small lump that wants to form in his throat but that wasn’t important right now. He had other things to tend to and Hadiza was no longer one of them.

Instead of running back, she ran to her mother’s arms who was less than thrilled to see her baby this upset over a man who she trusted to be good to her child.

Later Hadiza found herself in her mother’s hands again when she received the devastating but expected news from Angel Reyes on her door step. She broke down in the doorway right in front of him and she knew the eldest brother couldn’t handle that amount of heartache that he also shared, despite him placing a kiss to the top of her head and leaving her with one of EZ’s dog tags, he left her with the woman who gave her life to deal with the weight of the lost on his own.

Hadiza then sent a letter to Felipe a couple of days before she decided to take her life elsewhere, away from all that Santo Padre showed her. She wasn’t sure if there would even be a funeral or memorial but she had to get out while she can still stand.

Antigua was always a place Hadiza wanted to visit and now she can say that she lives here comfortably.

She left her mother on the front deck to get them a refill of her famous rum punch that was leftover from her mother’s house party yesterday night. Hadiza was humming to herself in solitude until she heard her mother screaming out to her from outside.

The woman did not hesitate to race around the house with a bat, ready to fight off any Osprey’s that decided to invade their property again. Hadiza held her breath as she yanked open the door, eyes wild as she searched for her mother on the deck.

“What is it, ma?” Hadiza exhaled, seeing her mother sitting up on one of the wicker chairs.

Her mother nudged her chin towards the front and Hadiza cautiously took a step towards the railing. A few of her fingertips rested on the banister as she leaned over a bit, looking over at the new found community they both settled into. It was quiet as usual, air warm, seaweed scented, and fresh.

She wasn’t sure what had spooked her mother until her eyes settled down by the cars parked along the curb. Her eyes moved to the left a bit and she had to rub at one of them to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. It tended to do that the first couple of weeks she settled in the country. Lately she’s been okay. A figure stood by a identical golf cart (that they had in their driveway) that was parked right behind Hadiza’s car, fitted cap on their head as their hands held onto a mobile device.

Her throat went dry before she could even muster up and ask if she could help the person locate who they were searching for…because she knew it was him before those honey eyes looked up at her.

“Ezekiel.” She shuddered, feeling her mother get to her feet behind her, like the DJ Khalid meme, almost like she wasn’t still healing from the last Osprey attack two weeks ago.

Her mother also gripped onto the banister, “Oh hell no. I rebuke this demonic spirit, get away from here!”

And tossed the freshly watered plant at Ezekiel who side-stepped the assault.

“Hey, Mrs—it’s just me!”

“I know! Aren’t you supposed to be dead, you bastard?!” She yelled back.

Hadiza whispered at the woman, “Ma, please.”

The woman humphed, folding her arms as she waddled back to the chair, already aware how this would go.

Hadiza pointed the bat at Ezekiel, “wait right there.”

“Not if you’re gonna beat my ass.”

“I’ll think about it by time I get downstairs.”

Hadiza’s mother cackled at that, knowing she raised her baby with some sort of sense.

Hadiza couldn’t tell you how she felt but the brain fog was kicking in. She weeped over this man too many times just for him to be here in the flesh, like they all didn’t experience the hell he indulged in back in Santo Padre.

Her mother was right to think a demon was standing in front of their home. The anger Hadiza directed at EZ after receiving the news of his death was like no other emotion Hadiza’s had before but she found peace in Antigua.

She halted at the front door, noticing EZ fumbling with his fingers after the phone disappeared from his hold. Hadiza took her time going down the few front steps, crossing through the grass and down the slope to the gravel.

The man looked up at her approach, carefully reaching up to lift the cap from his head to mess around with the brim of the hat as Hadiza moved closer but almost not close enough.

His eyes immediately went to her head, noticing that the mountain of coarse hair that she had was long gone into a buzzed style now.

He smiled, “you finally did it huh? I know you’ve been eating ‘em up more than ever out here.”

And she couldn’t stand it, her eyes scanning the old yellowing of bruises and cuts on his face, puffing out a laugh at his compliment as she almost collapsed into his arms, bringing his body so tight to hers that he thought he would break her rib cage but he followed through with the same actions.

Her chin buried into his shoulder, one of his hands around the small of her back, and the other cradling the back of her head, he heard her sob against him and he couldn’t be more apologetic.

When they pulled apart, she held onto his face analyzing the marks on his skin before she inflicted her own attack on his lower half.

“Hey! Ow!” A good whack to the top of his head, made Ezekiel stop taking the hits as he gripped her wrists again.

Except this time was different, his touch was much more softer.

“I’m sorry okay. I’m sorry for filling your head up with doubts and making you believe that I didn’t give a shit about our friendship. When quite frankly—no pun intended, you’re the best got damn thing that’s been in my life.” His hands slipped into holding her hands into his own large ones.

And the way he was staring at Hadiza, let her know that this was the old Ezekiel she had missed. It was the spark in his eyes that made her feel safe, given what he got himself involved in.

He could see her mind spinning with questions, the corners of her eyes damp with tears.

“What did I say to you when we first became friends?”

“…’jalapeños on these nachos are missing and I make better ones than these whack ass ones you’re eating.’” Hadiza actually thought about this.

Which made a goofy grin appear on Ez’s face and he shook his head with a sigh, “yeah I think I did say that but after that? I said you’re stuck with me if you choose me. It would always be Kiel and Diza for life, remember?”

It was ironic that he wanted to think back when he basically was rude as hell to her about this in his trailer months ago. The bitterness was still in the pit of her stomach but the higher road wanted her to be happy that this man, her best friend, Ezekiel Lorenzo Reyes was very much still alive.

Hadiza wasn’t sure how the fuck he did it but here he was, wiping away her black mascara before holding her hands in his again.

A small smile appeared on her lips as she peered down at their hands, lifting their conjoined hands up to place her lips right on the back of his hands. Ezekiel let out a breath he wasn’t aware that he was holding.

“For life.” She repeated, staring at him underneath her eyelashes.

He nodded his head, not breaking eye contact as she pulled the necklace from around her and placed it back on Ezekiel where it belonged. He glanced down at it, a new wave of emotions hitting him as he realized a piece of him was always with the one woman he deeply cared for.

“Let’s get inside.” Hadiza told him, as he leaned over to place a kiss to her full cheek.

She turned, her hand still resting in one of his hands as he reached for the fallen bat with the other, “think I might need this if I try to give your mom a hug.”

Hadiza laughed, “Baby steps, Kiel.”

“That’s fair.” He answers from behind her, letting her lead the way to her new home.

Perhaps now here in the Caribbean, they had the chance to create a better life, a better friendship together with no more black ink or blood spills blinding the way.

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Continue along with my anthology works that were written during the spring season here.

#Spotify #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans mc x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #Mayans mc s5 #spring prompts #queued #Angel Reyes #felipe reyes #bishop losa #tranq loza #hank loza #mayans mc season 5 #jd pardo

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ingeniousmindoftune · 2 years ago

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Y’all want another Rio Story?

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your-space-brain · 1 year ago

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The Space Between

Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes x Reader - One Shot

Gif does not belong to me.

Moved from @spacedbrainnn

The way he looked at you could’ve melted a nun. His dark eyes were so brooding, with so many thoughts trapped behind them that he just couldn’t voice. His complicated mind held so many trapped notions that wouldn’t forth from his lips. He was given the curse of remembering everything.

You were his object of affection. He looked at you and the corners of his lips turned up, the subtle action lighting up his whole face. You watched him walk to you and raise his hand, to touch your fingertips to his.

You did the same, touching your fingertips to his rough ones, if it wasn’t for the clear barrier between you of glass. Instead, you were met with the smooth coolness, and he pulled his hand back as quickly as it was put up.

You could never be too sure in prison. There were eyes and ears everywhere, and as EZ picked up the black phone, so did you.

“Hey, mi ciela.” The phone receiver was pressed close to his mouth, so he could talk lower, so the others didn’t hear. He didn’t need you used as a weapon against him on the inside. His voice slowly soothed your nervous system.

“Hey, EZ.”

“How are you doing out there?”

“It’s lonely.”

“…I know.”

He didn’t regret taking the heat for the Reaper Run. He didn’t regret the beating that he got from the cops. He regretted leaving his heart behind on the outside.

“Have you been taking the money that I told Angel to give you?”

“Do I ever?”

He exhaled, a faint chuckle leaving his lips. You never did. You were so stubborn. You were about as headstrong as he was, if not more. If the situation was different, you’d argue with him.

“You need to. It’s my money.”

“I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you.”

“I’m good, miel, I’m good.”

“There’s money on your books?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I got me, querida.”

“I know, but…” There was a moment of silence, your desperate eyes looking at his calmer, more stoic ones. “Are you keeping busy in there?”

“I try. They rip books down the spine so you only get part of them. Kind of hard to read a book when you start and stop right in the middle.”

You frowned, and changed the subject again. “Does it hurt bad?” You asked of the marrings on his skin from the police batons.

“Not too bad. Reminds me to keep moving.”

“Did they—”

“Reyes.”

They didn’t need to say it. Time’s up. 5 minutes, once a week. Your heart jumped in your throat as he stood.

“I love you.” You were desperate. He looked you right in your eyes, and you knew he wouldn’t say it.

‘I love you.’ He mouthed, before nodding as if to confirm it before he turned away. You could never be too careful. Showing emotion just got you hurt in there. 604,800 seconds, you would wait, just to get your 300 seconds with him.

— end —

#ezekiel reyes #ez Reyes #jd pardo #Mayans mc #Mayans mc imagines #ez x reader #ez Reyes x reader #sons of anarchy #your space brain

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blackmissfrizzle · 2 years ago

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I’ll Take Your Man(s)- 11

Part 10

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader, EZ Reyes x black!reader

Summary: You become aware of how bad Miguel is spiraling.

Warnings: TW: Suicide, Insensitivity/ Malice towards suicide

It was a Saturday morning and you had absolutely nothing to do. All your schoolwork was done, your boss forbade anyone from working on the weekend, and EZ was out with the club. So, you decided to give some people a visit.

If it weren’t for the key EZ made you then you wouldn’t be inside of his dad’s house. Felipe’s was quite uneventful. Whatever was going on, he was still in his deep depression. Unlike Angel, you didn’t know what was going on. The brothers did, but they refused to speak to you about it. There were too many secrets from everyone.

After Felipe’s, you broke into Angel’s place. His place was just as messy as his dad’s. You tried to empathize with him, but the loss of a child was so much different than the loss of a parent. Especially a child he never got to meet. In your honest opinion, he was doing a pretty good job holding up. He slept around before the baby. You just wished he figured out how to use condoms as you passed the box full of them. These dudes act like STIs don’t exist.

Finally, during your afternoon, you had contact with someone. You went to Marcus’ house to bring him some cookies you baked the night before. As you two talked two kids ran by, one boy and one girl. The only child he had was his daughter.

“You adopted?” You furrowed your brows. Upon further inspection, you could tell the boy had Down Syndrome.

God bless Santi, Marcus thought. The young boy and Tessa came to talk to you. This gave him time to think of a lie.

As the kids talked, you kept an eye on Marcus. He was hiding something and you wouldn’t let up.

Finally, the kids went to go play a game, which gave you time to drill Marcus.

“It’s none of your concern, YN.” Marcus snapped. Honestly, it wasn’t out of loyalty to Miguel that kept him from telling the truth. It was shame. Working for a cartel boss came with a lot of dirty deeds, but watching Miguel kill Paco over his mother’s death was something that shook him. Maybe it was old age or maybe he was finally getting a conscious. Either way he didn’t want you to look at him differently.

But then it hit him, you were the answer. Not Emily, not Monserrat, not some crazy revenge plan, but you. The most peaceful Miguel has been when he was with you. After your visits, he wasn’t as depressed. There was light at the end of the tunnel.

“He’s Paco’s son.”

“Oh, you’re just babysitting. Why didn’t you just say that?” Why was everyone being so weird?

Marcus shook his head. “We took him in.”

“What went down?” Nothing during your visits with Miguel alerted you of something going down. Quite frankly the Galindo cartel seemed to not to be as active as before.

“Miguel.” Marcus whispered. “Miguel shot him.”

You shook your head. Paco was in the close circle of guards. There’s no way Miguel would kill him.

“He did.” Marcus had no one to talk to about this. His wife was a no go and Nestor was out of the question, and Bishop had his own shit to deal with. You gave him the perfect opportunity to let this out. “He blamed Paco for Dita being able to get away. He’s unhinged, princesa.” Marcus contemplated if he should say more. Hell, he let out some already, might as well go all the way. “He killed Dita’s therapist.”

No way any of this could be true. You would know if something like this would have happened. “Nah, Miguel wouldn’t have. He’s grief stricken, but he wouldn’t go that far.”

Izzy called Marcus to join her and the kids for lunch. “You know it is.” He stood up and squeezed your shoulder. “He just knows how to hide it around you. Talk to him. At this point, only you can save him.”

After that conversation, it was like you were a zombie. You were just going through the motions of the day, but somehow that had you at the therapist’s office.

“Hi, I wanted to know if Dr. Alma was taking in any new patients.”

The receptionist gave you a sad smile. “Unfortunately, she’s not and probably not for a while. She’s missing.”

The young woman could barely control herself. This told you that the therapist had to be “missing” for quite some time.

You gave her your prayers and walked back to your car. Marcus was right. People in this town don’t go missing. They either leave or they got killed and the latter happened to Dita’s therapist. Were you so enraptured in your relationship that you didn’t notice Miguel’s warning signs? Didn’t matter now, but you were gonna fix all of that.

Miguel didn’t go out much these days, so you had to go to his house which meant Emily was there too. What you didn’t expect was her annoying little sister. Both of them thought you were the other woman and were giving you a hard time when you requested to see Miguel.

“If I was the mistress, I would be fucking on your bed you share with your husband, Emily. This is a business call anyway or I wouldn’t have come. Trust, I did not want to see your face.”

“YN?” Miguel came out of his office. You were a most welcomed sight. Seeing you in his kitchen made it seem like you belong there, like this should be your home instead of some RV parked in a scrap yard.

“I needed help on a case. I was wondering if I could ger your opinion?”

“Of course.” Miguel ignored Erin’s mean mug and Emily’s displeasure. The only happiness that mattered was yours and his son’s.

Even his office was different. Everything in the house felt cold. You thought it was because of Emily, but Miguel was the cause of it too. He lost his flame when his mother died.

“What can I help you with?” Miguel leaned against his desk and held your hand. Reyes didn’t know what gift he had.

“I actually lied about work, so your wife and her chihuahua of a guard dog could leave me alone.”

Miguel couldn’t stop laughing. Leave it to you to make him have his first real laugh in a while. “Then what is it about?”

“Um, did you know that Marcus is taking care of Paco’s kid?”

Miguel dropped your hand and sat behind his chair. Not the conversation he was looking for. “Someone’s running their mouth.”

“I went to visit and saw the kid. Do you know he has Down Syndrome?”

“Tragic, but none of my business.” Miguel was the definition of indifference. He could feel nothing for the man who was supposed to protect his mother.

Wow. Even with all your conversations, you never saw this side of Miguel. This was the monster EZ warned you about. “None of your business that you turned an innocent child into an orphan?”

“YN, none of this concerns you. Drop it.”

Oh, Miguel Galindo had you fucked up. You weren’t one of his soldiers he could order around, and you weren’t Emily. “Fuck no! You’re out here murdering people! For what? So, you can have someone to blame? There’s no one to blame! Dita committed suicide!”

Miguel slammed the table causing papers to fly. “Watch your mouth!”

“Or what?” You stepped to him toe to toe. “You gonna shoot me and bury me in the desert?! Miguel Galindo can’t get his way, so he kills to get it!”

Miguel had too much love and respect for you to put his hands on you, but God wasn’t he tempted. “You are not my wife! You are not anyone to me! You’re just a slut that opens her legs for married men. Therefore, your opinion is irrelevant. And I suggest you get your nose out of business that you shouldn’t be in. Now go back to your convict and play house.”

One thing you refused to do is cry. That man can never know that he put a chink in your armor, but he is gonna feel this fury.

You threw a punch so powerful that it made Miguel go to his knees. “Remember I’m the slut you were willing to leave your wife for and you only had a sample. Don’t worry, when you off yourself like your mother I won’t be in your business either.”

Miguel was too stunned to speak. All he did was watch you walk out for a second time, breaking his heart.

Again, Ice Queen tried to get in your ass, but you dreaded that shit. “Ask him about Paco and Dr. Alma. Get your husband in check before he spirals any further.” You took the bottle of vodka she was holding and drunk a bit of it. “You’ll need more of that if you’re gonna deal with him.”

You sped over to the clubhouse. Without Chucky, they left upkeep to hang arounds. Ole faithful, Nails was there. You tried to warn her that Angel wasn’t ready for a relationship, but she seemed to be falling for him.

“Hey, Step. Go home, I got this.”

“Respectfully, no.” She bumped your hip once you got behind the bar. “You look like you need company.”

Ezekiel’s, but she would do for now. God, now you felt like Angel.

The two of you got the place clean in no time. During that time, Nails asked you about Angel. He abruptly ended things with her.

Focusing on her problems was a great distraction. You needed it or all you would dwell on is Miguel’s words.

Finally, you two finished so you sat on the steps of the RV. The sounds of engines flooded your ears. Soon you saw your boyfriend, smiling joking around with his brother.

“Oh man, what did you do? Did you leave the toilet seat up again?”

EZ elbowed him. “That’s all you. Anyways, we were real good this morning.”

“Or you were? I’m sure thirty seconds isn’t enough for YNN.”

EZ pushed him. “Whatever man. Lemme see what’s up.”

“On a serious note, give her my love.”

EZ patted Angel’s back and jogged over to you. It didn’t take long for him to figure out you were upset. When has it ever? But he hasn’t seen you this disturbed in a while.

“Hey baby.” He kissed the crown of your head before joining you on the steps. “Couldn’t wait to see me?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I came to see the prospect.” You winked at him.

“Don’t make me give him more shit than he already has.”

“Fine.” You weaved your fingers with his.

EZ kissed your hand. Your whole demeanor had him on alert. What kind of trouble could you be in? “What’s up?”

You shrugged it off. He would just fuss at you for talking to Miguel. Actually, for punching him. He would lose his shit and then the whole MC would be on your ass despite all the crap they’re going through. “Nothing, just missing you is all.”

EZ tilted his head. He wasn’t letting this go. Something was truly wrong. “YN. Talk to me.”

The authority in his voice tore down your wall. “Um, I had a disagreement with Miguel.”

Was this jealousy or concern that washed over EZ? He couldn’t tell. All he knew he was damn territorial over you and wanted you to have nothing to do with Miguel.

It did tear him apart that you still had such a strong connection to this man that once was his romantic rival. Miguel Galindo seem to follow him in all his romantic endeavors and EZ was tired of it. He got Emily, you were all EZ’s. He even stopped seeing Emily as a friend and left her all to Miguel. Why couldn’t Miguel do the same?

He fought to stay neutral. “What happened?”

You began wincing, because you knew he would freak out once you started telling your story. “Well,” You only got to the part where Marcus told you what was going on due to EZ’s abrupt interruption.

“Tell me you didn’t.” He shook his head. EZ knew you did it. For some reason, you thought you could fix everyone. Didn’t you know that no one can fix Miguel Galindo? For Jesus Christ, he killed an innocent child and left the charred body in middle of town. There’s no intervention or redemption for someone like that. However, you wouldn’t believe it. It was that damn optimism you inherited from your mom.

“We can stop it there.”

EZ waved his hand, telling you to continue on.

This part was harder than the rest. Your eyes remained on the ground as you retold the events. Every once in a while, you would glance at EZ once you felt the anger emitting from him. “And then I punched him then said once he kills himself that I wouldn’t be in his business.”

It was complete chaos inside of Ezekiel’s brain. He was concerned for you, but also for him and Angel as well. Would Miguel retaliate at you? It sounded like it was possible. From your account he seemed deranged. Was he just a loving son refusing to believe his mother would commit suicide? Or did he have a genuine reason other than denial to investigate? Did this mean he suspected murder? Did he suspect him and Angel? All of that ran in his head.

“Are you gonna say something?” This was uncharacteristic. You were expecting him to yell at you, but he was just sitting there not saying one word. Is this the quiet before the storm? Oh my god, is he so angry that he won’t say anything? Hey, at least it would make for great makeup sex later.

Finally, everything combusted. EZ jumped from the stairs and stared down at you. “Why would you do something so dumb?! He could kill you! This would have been a risk if he wasn’t off his fucking rocks, but now the probability of him killing you is exponential.”

“Someone had to say something!”

“And that someone had to be you?!”

“Yes!”

“He has a wife!”

“He doesn’t talk to her.”

“That’s none of your concern. Emily is his wife, and you are my girlfriend. We hold no obligations to them. I don’t want you to see him anymore!”

See the thing about telling you to do something backfires when you were already about to do it. Something in your brain signaled that as ‘time to be petty’

“Or what?” Seems like you got to bring another man down a notch. “You gonna hit me or something? Oops, already happened.” During a fight with some military bitches, EZ accidentally pushed you out the way too hard causing you to bleed.

EZ sighed “It was mistake, YN.” He tried to come towards you, but you sidestepped him.

“Yeah, just like this conversation. I’ll talk to you later.” You went straight for your car, not looking back once.

Angel came out once he saw your car drive off. Everyone inside the clubhouse heard raised voices, but they couldn’t figure out what was being said even after they turned off the radio. “So, you did do something.”

EZ said nothing as he pushed Angel inside of his trailer. “We got a major problem.”

“You messed up so bad that she ain’t gonna come by and clean for me anymore?!” Angel knew about your little break-ins into his house. He should give you a key, but deep down he loved the feeling of someone going through hoops to show their love for him.

EZ pointed his finger in his big brother’s face. “1, you gonna stop using my girl as labor and 2, she went to confront Galindo about killing Paco and his mother’s therapist.”

“Hold up, does Galindo suspect something?” Angel crossed his arms. Great another shit pile to add to his shit pile.

“I don’t know man. From the things she’s told me, it just sounds like he’s in a depression and spiraling. If he had any information that it was anything but she would have had an inkling. This just sounds like he’s in deep denial.”

Angel looked at his poor brother. He seemed in distress. He knew that EZ was worried about you and didn’t want to add on to that, but there was only one way to keep tabs on this situation. “YNN should keep talking to him. I’m sure she tells you about the talks and you can see if Galindo is on to us.”

“No fucking way Angel!” Ain’t gonna happen. Not on his watch.

“Come on!” Angel did his best to keep his voice down. “This will be our only way in.”

EZ sat triumphantly on the bed. “Even if I would let this happen, it couldn’t. She punched Galindo and left him with some not so nice words.” He retold Angel everything you told him about the argument with Miguel.

Angel whistled. “She’s cold man. That’s why Galindo likes her. It’ll be fine. I’m thinking he’s on his spoiled rich kid shit. Plus, we got other shit to worry about than this right now.”

They really did. This plan to dethrone the other kings was exhausting. “Okay man,” EZ clapped his hand and watched him walk out. He laid down in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping and praying none of this digging Galindo is doing will lead back to him.

#ez Reyes #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #Ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x black!reader #Miguel Galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #black!reader #I’ll take your man(s)#I’ll take your mans #frizzlefic #mayans mc #mayans #mayans fanfic

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joannasteez · 3 years ago

Note

Hey sis, if you're taking requests imma need some knife!kink or gun!kink with Ez pleaseeeeeee🥵🥵🥵🥵

I just imagine he's getting ready to head out and putting his gun in his waistband and his knife in the sheath and you're on the bed all but drooling over him wearing that godforsaken muscle tee looking like a damn snack. You purr his name, crawl to the end of the bed all dramatically giving him bedroom eyes. You take his knife or gun from behind him while he's kissing you, lay back down and drag it all over your body, bonus points if he takes the knife and cuts your lingerie off 😫😫😫😫

Ya girl is thirsty as hell, and we both know if I start writing this it's gonna be a WIP forever lol

Anyways, this gif has me screaming for days on end, it's my favorite episode because of the brother duo, but also baby boy in that fit🤰🏾🤰🏾🤰🏾

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Black Reader (anyone can still read of course) || Warning⚠️: DNI if you are a minor please, this work of fiction is 18+. Please use discretion upon reading. Rope/Blindfold/Knife use is present and talked about in detail as well as spanking and choking. Once again for your own safety and to avoid the possibility of triggers please use discretion!!!

A/N: I just wanna say that I hate you with all my heart for sending this request, but also…. ily very much, terribly mixed feelings on how crazy this drove me I must say. This became more collaborative the more we spoke about it so a couple of things changed from the initial ask you all see above but me and my co-conspirator spoke about them extensively as I just stated so she knows what’s what.

Word Count: 8.5k

Also…. THANKS FOR 700 Followers!!!💋

Taglist: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @superhoeva @witching-hour @noz4a2 @rae-gar-targaryen @rose-bliss @youlovetkay

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘

He loved your eyes, loves your eyes. Bound to such unapologetic expressions always. They sparkled in times of elation, twinkling like heaven made stars, slitting low to give way for the gladdened aching rise of your cheeks, but even in their sadness, gleamed a perfect sorrow. Rounding soft and vulnerable, a captivating grief, having stared into their depths on numerous occasions and seeing all of you so clearly, and if he dared hard enough, could see the whole of himself too. You were unreal. But what made his heart race, what really got him going was the slow flutter your lashes took, the gentle way they curved in their shape to kiss faint over the peak of your cheeks. In your neediness, in your mischief, you'd bat them, fanning like feathers ethereal and patient, entrancing him something silly before you got your way. But that hadn't worked tonight.

Not one bit.

No tonight, you had a smoldering fire lit, burning the tender brown to deliver something much more unforgiving. You'd asked him to stay and he was leaving anyways, he deserved every fiery look he got.

"Stop pouting, I won't be gone long".

It was shitty, the whole 'I won't be gone long' routine, but at least it wasn't full of shit anymore. He'd learned a while ago to stop saying 'I promise' because he for damn sure couldn't keep them all. No one could. But what assurance he did give, despite the intended sincerity, was hollow. A beautifully wrapped box decorated with gold trimmings, diamonds and pearls, containing nothing but the air and energy it took to form that damned sentence. It stained your memory, bitter taste rolling smooth on your tongue every time he kissed you with those words. The pitchy clink of his wallet chain and the ruffling of that God forsaken muscle shirt just seemed to make everything worse, solidified his dust covered, skin bruised, sunrise arrival and the steady brew of your attitude. Was it too much to ask?, for him to just stay?

The bed dipped with the weight of him, fingers warm and hard-worked, but soothing still in the way they slipped up your thighs. A typical attempt at easing your annoyance away. "You ignoring me now?" Lips a sweet cupid's bow shape, twitching slightly. He found it amusing, the mildly formed 'tantrum' fermenting inside you.

You'd show him just how funny you could be.

It was minuscule, the dilation of your earthy eyes, black edging slow to burn up and smolder that endearing brown, but he saw it clear as day. Something shifting, sudden, like the grinding twist of a gear long forgotten, the rumbling of earth trembling beneath his toes, dormancy, of some wild volcano, no more. He saw it all in your eyes, in the sudden way you stepped smooth over to the closet, phone abandoned now on the bed, idle and of no use, your fingers working to comb through the crowded hanging of clothes with a rising determination. Pieces of him faltered, unsure, 'what the hell were you up to?'

"I'm going out with Xavier and a couple of other friends"

His chuckle was dry, mirthless. You could be exacting at times, so unbelievably precise with your pettiness. It wasn't enough to sink the metaphorical knife into him, you loved the twisting feel of it too much, the sharp, ripping tear and doing away with of his placid resolve, his patience. He was vocal about how he felt about him, about Xavier, that handsome bitch. And it was a shame really, because the potential to like him was there, it really was, but Ezekiel couldn't get over how confident the guy was concerning the obvious infatuation he had for you. It wasn't obsessive, nothing that caused concern, but Ezekiel's irritation lived and breathed well regardless.

The more he thought on it the hotter, faster, wilder his blood rushed. The way Xavier looked at you, with such high regard, hearts in his damn eyes, an endeared stare. Intimate, similar to his own. And he was delicate, not because you were fragile, but because he just thought of you enough to show you that type of gentleness. Thoughtful words and sweet touches, you were oblivious to it all, to their heartfelt meanings, but you knew how it all made him feel and you'd made it a point to specify who you'd be with anyways. Low blow baby, low freakin' blow.

"Your car is still in the shop, so how are you getting there, where ever you going?"

don't say it, don't say it, don't you dare-

"He's coming to pick me up".

You're real nonchalant about all of this, moving about the room like what you're doing doesn't irritate him. Like it doesn't sting the strongest parts of his ego.

And then you're dressed, faster than he's ever seen. If you were looking to rile him up, set his blood ablaze, you'd done it, and you'd done it damn well.

His eyes are hard, a glaring pool of expanding black. Jaw set tight. "You wearing that?"

You give him nothing, not even the smallest glance. "I got it on right?"

For a moment, a few seconds that feel too much like eternity, he doesn't know what to do with himself, doesn't know how to maneuver about the shifting dynamic. Maybe he's gotten too comfortable?, eyes furrowing as deep as your own had been just minutes before, the slip of your foot into a high heel jumpstarting the beginnings of some fizzling sensation, a frenzy of some sort but he's not sure what. 'But yeah', he thinks, that's it, too comfortable, too heavily situated in the ways you accepted everything. You'd rolled with the punches, gave into his wants with resignation, a myriad of "yes", "fines" and "ok's" whispering disappointed off your mouth because it was just easier to agree than to argue with him. Because club shit was club shit, and you couldn't fight with that, fight against that. Right? He'd wandered in the light of your accepting ways, dazed himself silly with the way you picked up after him, all the broken, dusted, bloody, mangled pieces and now he was feeling stunned and a bit stupid. That's it, the frenzy roaming about him. Stunned.

He sheathes his knife to the low end of his back, the slim tells of his stunned expression turning over slow, twisting into something more fixed. "Change into something else".

"Not happening".

Vexation falls on his shoulders heavy, weighing him down, tears through him like an anchor drowning in water. "It's a good thing I wasn't asking". It's the circumstance that's got him wound up tight, it has to be. It's the dress, his favorite freakin' thing you've ever bought, it's that damn Xavier, and it's the look dancing sneakily in your eyes. Ezekiel's never been one to fall easy to goading, but you've got a way about you, a force that drives him fast to a possessiveness that isn't at all inherent. At least he doesn't think it's inherent. He could be wrong though, terribly wrong.

The other heel glides onto your shoeless foot, a laugh mixing menacing with the air. "Fuck you".

It's measured, the way be moves over toward you, curious but intimidating, cold eyed and calculating like a starved wolf. The steady swelter of tension thickening to a sure palpability. You feel it well, an exhilarating sensation, like the tease of fingertips playing dangerous along the flickering licks of a growing flame. He is the fire, and if you aren't careful, he will consume you. This is a promise your better judgement whispers, rushing out in a chilled cautious hurry for your own sake, but it gets lost, flows in and filters out. You can't hear anything, nothing sensible at least, not while he's advancing toward you, steps sedated, and your own reversing till you're a hairs breadth away from the wall. You're not sure what you're waiting for, but the gentleness is surprising. The soft pull he gives the thin strap of your dress, the light touch against your skin, the tenderness gracefully rounding his eyes, a lonely thumb caressing your jaw.

"You know how much I love this dress". Sincerity pours over his features like torrential rain, till a cloud rolls over, the booming strength of thunder bold in his hand, grip becoming solid on your jaw, and then like a whip, lightening cracks loud, emboldens his shoulders to square. Surrounds you like some inescapable fortress. He's everywhere. "Don't fuck with me like this. Change into something else or you stay your ass here".

The rush you feel is cold and waking, defiant, like an unstoppable winter wind. It takes you, tethers to your resolve, chills your nerve and makes it steadfast. Immovable. Lips closer now, a smirk peaking, resistance never felt so good. "Fuck you Ezekiel".

It's all been up in the air till this moment, and the daring, dangerous moments that follow. He's too enraptured in the terseness of your tone, how it juxtaposes the alluring faint touch of your lips. Ezekiel is confused, a little conflicted. This is all new, uncharted territory. He's at the end of his road, the map is finished and he's directionless, standing on the edge of a rather unreliable cliff. The waters are deep below him, waves crashing rough, and he's unsure. Should he take the leap? Fall for your bait? Should he jump? Decisions, decisions... sometimes you don't make them, sometimes they're made for you. And that's what you do, you un-sheath the knife from the leather hold, not because you're in danger, but because it feels good. With this, the shifting dynamic favors you again, power favors you again, and so you press the tip into his exposed chest. You make the decision for him.

'So that's it', he thinks. 'I jump'.

"Do it". Voice raw, husky, and it's your turn to be stunned. The stronger, more resilient pieces of you faltering. 'Is he serious?'. The question sending you in an endless wonder, till amusement appears again. Swirls friendly with the pool of black in his glare. He thinks you're bluffing. "Go ahead baby. Cut me".

Waters are tested, that unstable rock under your foot more ungrounded than you realize, but it's a good type of instability. The tip of the blade piercing him, slim run of blood a shimmering red against his tan skin. It's more tantalizing than you could ever imagine, the wet thick drip of blood, so sweet and assured in the way it rolls down his chest. The ragged rhythm of his breathing, realization of things never felt looming like a ghost, snatching him whole. Thunder laughing loud in his chest, fire raging in his fingers. But it's all too hot, too present to ignore, something deep in him lives, is alive, the prick of the knife a friendly hand that's pulled it to some ascended place. Out of the shadows, to the surface. But still, he's not sure what this is, why the earth's not moving, why despite the rolling waves beneath him he's not drowning, not until he feels your tongue licking wet at his skin. Sucking gentle at his slyly torn flesh. He can hardly breathe and when you kiss him, when you wash that wet metal taste on his tongue the groan escaping hard up his throat is raw and animalistic.

When he kisses back, it's a nasty unrefined lust. It's wild tongue and sharp teeth. It's the manifestation of some intangible war being fought between the two of you, having waded in a frigid depths for far too long, but now living tangibly has made itself unstoppable. The bruising kiss of his lips, the swirling slip of his tongue, the rough hold he gives your legs, the groan breaking, rumbling tough out between shallow breaths, it's all unstoppable. And the wall is hard against your back, too even of a surface, but the solid mass of him is harder, muscles defined under the run of your nails. It makes you moan, makes you shudder deep till your gut is trembling and a pulse begins at the juncture between your legs. You need him. Need to feel him, have that blazing fire singe you up, consume you whole.

But the damn button on his jeans won't cooperate, and it's pissing you off. Making you huff and whine so he does it for. Throws the knife toward the bed and unfastens those tough ass jeans. "On your knees", he commands. He doesn't even look at you but damn does it sound good, a dark minor chord melody, and your knees are weak anyways. So you just let them give, falling to the carpeted floor.

The sudden affinity for leisured pacing makes you groan inwardly, eyes nearly slipping into a roll till you realize he's watching you.

You lift up a little, reaching forward to relieve him the rest of the way, till he smacks your hands down, wrenching your jaw up as he leans down. He's not a starved wolf anymore, he's a damn beast. "It's fuck me right?", he clips. Harsh and unforgiving. "This dirty fucking mouth, I should ruin you tonight". You nearly beg him to but he's got your jaw in that stocky hand. "Open". If you look close enough there's a red living wild in those black eyes, your mouth opening up just for him.

He spits on your tongue, huffing at the delight you take in it. The way your teeth bites that full bottom lip.

His thumb untucks it, skims it slow, in a moment of admiration. "Go ahead baby, be a good girl". Stance wide, length hanging low before you. "Keep your word. Fuck me".

You don't assail him, you don't give him what he thinks he wants, which, because of the coarse sensuality stifling is better judgement, is very different from what he needs. It's a tenderness he feels first, soft kisses and kitten licks lavishing the stretched veins along his length, hard pulse of them flushing his tip a blushed red. And Ezekiel's all about the preamble, a little bit of this and that, kisses and touches here, long velvety licks there, but for once his impatience wears him thin, shreds him whole, forces his hand to grab hold near and dear to your scalp. "C'mon girl, take it". The way he can't wait, the desperation sweating from his skin, it draws a moan from the furthest reaches of you. Has you guiding the heaviness of him on your tongue, thickness hot and just a little ways from intimidating.

He's a groaning mess when your tongue catches the underside of him, that warm constricted wetness melting his bones, a grunt and the quick jerk of his hips telling you just how needy he really is. Your head meets the length of him with a steady bobbing motion, the push and pull, catch and release of his dick rolling your eyes, his fresh veined skin a delightful friction along the pathway of your tongue. And when your lips grow tight, plump flesh wrapping him up all the more, a hard break of breath fights out his chest, grip in your hair forming soft, his fingers rubbing gentle into the soared area of your scalp. "That's it... that's it, fuck baby... that's it", a drunk chant. Swimming helpless in the water of your pleasure.

His hips work a measured grind, the coil in his belly building momentum, but his knees feel a little weak, hand reaching to stabilize himself some against the wall.

If he doesn't stop you, he'll come.

But you feel too good, the firm grip your hand takes to work him in tandem with your mouth, fervent and fluid.

He doesn't want to just yet, want's to hold onto that excitement, the anticipation of his release.

Your wrist twist well for him, squeeze and pull. Lips suckling persistent at the crown of his shaft.

"Wait". It's far too low for you to hear, rushes out too quick off his lips, resonates into a lewd moan.

He nearly breaks, nearly folds under the pressure and friction you give him just at the sensitive underside of his crown.

But you know Ezekiel too well, know the gratification that possesses him, awakening wild at the thought of self-control, the delay of bliss to receive later something much more pleasing. So you stop, ease off him slow, silhouetting the wet pop of your mouth with a rasped purr, reveling in the rain of heavy, jagged breaths that fall from his red, teeth bitten lips. Nailed fingers skimming, tensing graciously atop the stout build of his thighs, nipping and mouthing his defined v-line. It's a quiet little task, one he likes, allows till his fingers pull light at your cheek, eyes swarming dark still with an unrefined desire as they meet your own. His shoulders are wide from where you are, squared, something akin to an ancient statue. Herculean. Sculpted perfect, seeming tailor made just for you.

"On the bed for me".

You do as told, thumb wiping at the swell of your lips, seeing not with your eyes but sensing with the nerves under your skin the reduction of his desperation. The way he reins in his composure, it makes pride trek quick up your spin, shivers it till your head swims with a boastful wave. He can regulate himself well, better, when you're not right in front of him, mouth hanging open wide and ready. Seconds tick, ringing in his ear, till the hammering of his pulse wanes, his feet stepping across the carpeted floor to your dresser. Calculated steps, vision tunneled, but his ears ever mindful of your movements. Picking up the shuffle of your beautiful body along the bed but never daring to look, for the sake of his own sanity.

You're not something he can so easily ignore, even on a regular day, so it does him good, in times where restraint is key, to remember the end goal of all this. Stain his impulsivity with it, wash away the steady bloom of his appetite with the promise to ruin you. "Give me an arch princess".

Words melodious, mellow and tinged a pastel warmth that blurs amongst the translucent shade of black forming free about him, ghosting, an undeniable energy unseen but felt completely, seeming to pour without end. But your reaction is automatic all the same, spine dipping to create the perfect slope, that low pitched tone prickling fine at your waiting, un-satiated body. Burning, like a summer's day heat at the soles of your feet, surging north and spreading beyond till it births a balmy sensation at the tips of your ears. God you love his voice.

And he knows this, that's why he tilts his tone when he utters 'princess', fine tunes the pronunciations with the faintest bit of a purr. It makes you feel royal and dreamy, adored, and then when the time comes for him to reign down on you that delicious ecstasy, you feel all of it. Every pleasurable, painful, overstimulating inch.

But you're not always something to be adored, revered and dotted over with sweet pearlescent tenderness. Sometimes you deserve a bit of harshness, stern words and curt direction to straighten the narrowed path of your attitude. Sometimes no punishment is not an option, sometimes it's necessary. But then again, you take your hard licks and soft touches just the same. No matter what he did, you enjoyed yourself to the fullest. Which is why he could run his stocky fingers over the taut earthy rope and feel no guilt, no hesitation about the events to come. He could slip his fingers over the fine silk cloth and know that you'd enjoy this, live well in the grayed light of his "punishments". He wasn't really sure if he could ever call them that though come to think of it.

A whimper catches his ear, steers his line of vision to change from tawny rope and silk to the reflection living in the mirror, the most picturesque view. A lazy, seemingly inadequate middle and ring finger circling the pretty pink of your clit.

It's funny, the way you try. "You having fun over there?"

You grunt in frustration. Aching. "No. I need you".

It was a psychological thing of sorts your pleasure. Without him, his presence looming and often times dictating every course of action your body took, you could manage fairly well on your own, sate the trembling ache in your core just enough to ward off the frustration, but with him? With him, it was impossible to do well enough on your own. Every slip of the finger and twisting grip felt futile, incomparable to the taut, strong, overwhelming sensation born from his hands, spreading deep under the hot neediness of your skin. So when he swaggers over to you, drops the things in his hand along the bed and presses that long middle finger into your heat you shiver. Hiss and moan, elongating the slope of your arched back to further the reach of it inside you.

"How's that?" Feigning quizzicality, like he doesn't know the hold he has on you.

"I love your fingers". A bit breathless you are.

Muscular fingers left unoccupied journey smooth over the curve of your hip, bunching the fabric there to feel the softness of you till a spark of possessiveness overtakes them. Sends them upward, traveling ways beneath your dress to meet another one of his favorite things. Lace. It pleases him for a moment, coaxes him into fastening the measured stroke of his middle finger against your slick walls, till he remembers where you were attempting to storm off to tonight. Who you were attempting to storm off with.

“Lift up princesa". There's no allotted time for your response or reaction, he's already guiding you. Your back against his front, head mounted on his shoulder, whimpering still at the curve his finger takes. Nudging faint at the sweet spot deep in your pussy. Dotting the exposed space of your neck with lingering kisses only adds to the build of your arousal, so that's what he does. Romancing you before the inevitable break of pain. "Your answer to what I have to say determines whether I let you come or not ok?" There's no true awareness in your nod but you do it anyways. Anything to keep him from stopping. "Were you really gonna wear this for him?"

The words take one, two, three seconds more than usual to register but when they do you laugh. You laugh hard, because damn he's having an existential crisis of some sort over this dress.

It's his favorite dress ok, can you blame him? And it's the principle of the matter anyways, fuck the dress.

Cruelty isn't your speciality but exceptions are made sometimes.

"I was even thinking of letting him fuck me in it".

You're left empty, pulsing and gripping at nothing, the slicing of fabric ripping the air as he tears your dress straight down the middle with his bare hands.

Seeing the rigid definition of his abs is just as wondrous as feeling them, the hard shift of muscle a nice scene to distract you from the wrenching forward of your wrist. His brute-ness letting you know that the vexation over this matter will be sustained for a while, the tight wrapping of rope looping around your smooth skin saying more than those rosy pink lips ever could. 'Letting him wallow in his anger is good sometimes', you think, watching him fasten the other end of the rope to the head board. Shit, you weren't going anywhere.

Ezekiel's response is delayed, but whose wouldn't be? "Whose to say you haven't done it already".

A frown forms your mouth, staggered by the believability of hurt wrapped up in his words, till he's just inches from your face, the smallest twitch of a smirk telling you other wise. What you say is reticent.

"You never know".

The blindfold is next, a soft silk in front the eyes. Total darkness.

It's like you'd thought some moments ago, a little romance before the inevitable breaking in of pain. Saccharine kisses driving up the slope of your arched back, strong, bone melting hands kneading the round flesh of your ass as the kisses follow. The delving in of that sacred middle finger, the one you love to feel, slipping back into your warmth oh so agonizingly slow, meeting him with a throb that's desperate. The pulse reverberating through him enough that he groans in an octave you've heard before, one that's amazingly familiar to you. One that roughly sings his desire to taste you, catch the drip of your wetness with his wide tongue, but restraint overrules him. Reminds him of the end goal, empowers his hand to lay hard against your ass instead.

It's considerably mild in its intensity, presents a shock to your awaiting senses but nothing more. The second however, is harder, stings brighter, but you lean into it all the same, wanting the curving touch of his finger to nestle the spot in you once more.

At the harsh placement of the third you whimper, fingers digging one into the other. Intensity building by the second.

The fourth and fifth lay on the other side of your bottom together, one after the other. Milder than the third. Almost as a reprieve.

The filling sensation of his finger and the gentle remedy of his palm stroking the wild flare of heat proves to sate nothing much before he reigns down with the sixth. Your exhalations, torn and feathery, surge his growing possessive streak, chest swelling with satisfaction at the way you take what he gives. But still, it's unforgiving, the way his palm lands, a grunt following as he eyes the ripple of your ass. Loving the ocean reminiscent movement.

When the seventh falls, it cracks like lightening, causes a breath to break up off your chest. Toughens out as if it were made against its will to do so. But when he slips his finger from you to circle lazy at your clit, you moan through the prickling pain of the eighth. The knotting in your gut aching so good.

There's a moment of nothing, his touch gone, and you feel it in the arch of your back, a shiver. A sort of bodily knowing that the ninth and tenth will be devilish, are devilish. A bit spiteful and condemning as he grips your flesh once his palms meets it. Prolongs the sting with the dig of his fingers. 'If this is him playing at anger, you're intrigued enough to see what the sincerity of that brings', the thought passing through you with the grind of your waist. In search of some friction from the lax rub against your slit. The eleventh feels ill suited to the occasion, extremely mild for his taste, stingless at your thigh.

But he makes up for it good, ready's you with light taps and soft twisting pinches at your swollen bundle of nerves. Leaving you moaning, purring and ruffling your head into the bed sheets, just before the twelfth comes and stifles your movements, and damn does it feel like punishment. A little too close to hatred, mighty retribution for messing with his heavily fortified ego. The juxtaposition of his touch is powerful enough to produce tears, falling like drizzled rain to dampen the sheets. It leaves you trembling, body overwhelmed as it juggles the presence of pain and the seemingly never-ending pulse laden deep in your pussy. A small string of curses, too similar to a sob, straining from your throat stops him, his finger pulling you back to rest against his chest like before. He's mouthing the side of your throat, skimming till he's reached your ear, the energy roaming his demeanor drained of its edge. It's punishing nature.

"Stop?" He asks.

"I'm ok". Your voice raspy in its whisper. "Keep going please".

His transition back into form is quick. Seamless.

"My pretty baby's got tears in her eyes, what happened to the tough shit you were talkin'?"

The thirteenth is the twelfth. Unbelievably hard and powerful. Your head dropping to his shoulders despite the stretch your arms endure from pulling the rope to its limit.

"Mmm? What happened?" He taunts. The fourteenth just the same.

The last resonates a tremor through you, forsakes you to a bout of quivering that resembles leaves in frigid wind. Overwhelming isn't the word, it undermines the level of intensity too much, abandons the true nature of how stimulated your senses are. You can't see him, and God you can't touch him, but you can hear him. "Breathe baby", giving the heated tips of your ears wet loving kisses, his own reddened palms doing their best to sooth your stinging skin. Such a caring sweetheart in the midst of his carnality.

Delicate, coarse, nasty, thrilling, rapturous. Sex with Ezekiel was an unpredictable incline of an event. An at times slow descension of passion lasting for hours. Filled with rose petaled tender, lingering touches. The smooth melting of lips to skin, the conjoining of hearts to become one. Other times, the ascension was just as painstaking. Driven by bouts of wicked, menacing words. Taunting, shadowy eyes and salacious rolling tongues, too enraptured in the velvet wetness of the other to catch needed, life sustaining breaths. That's what it was now, an ascension into carnality of the highest order with no clear, fixed determination to stop or come back down.

Twinges settling into your wrist at the loosening of the rope just enough to maneuver you onto your back before it's tightened again, body molding to the cushioned form of the bed. Mouths twisting and sweeping lax once more. But your bottom, still carrying an easily felt soreness, takes time to settle into the fluff of the bed. A chuckle tumbling between the separation of your lips. It's an 'after the fact' sort of amusement, short blades of clarity running through hazy lust.

"What's funny?" He's nipping at your neck, teeth grazing gracious at your pulse.

"My ass is sore".

He lifts the silk from your eyes, searching beyond that amorous look for signs of hesitance. "You wanna stop?"

You smirk."Quitting on me already?"

Passion, pleasure, pain. The dwelling of all these make for an intense affair, the ascension of such things can be too high sometimes. Too unreachable. One wrong touch, miss read look, or error of words spoken can result in something horrible. Intractable. He didn't want that, not with you. "Not at all. Just making sure you're okay".

Pulling down the silk, he brings the darkness back to you with fingers too gentle to belong to the same brutishly impassioned man from moments ago, the cloth a refined caress against the eyes. And the kiss he gives you, sweet, a summer rain golden honeyed tangle of his tongue. Ardently endeared to yours. It resembles a lowly lit flame, dipping and waving small by will of the wind, flickering bold nonetheless in a blue bled dusk. Bursting with autumn oranges and sun made yellows, the center burning pure, untamable, an all consuming white. His groan stands the hairs on your skin, a melody that makes them sway, unearths the roots of your nerves.

It travels far, claims the plains, the hills and valleys, treks up the hardened peaks of your breast and swirls wet. The lush gesture is ceremonious, a sharp teasing graze of teeth, the rushing in of hard suckles. A show of reverence for your beauty, your body, pardons made for the delicious inflictions bought on by his brute-ness, his pain. It rubs and flicks careful down your skin, births a steady pant from your parted lips, hips canting for him, for friction, for something, anything. His breath a comforting warmth at your navel.

Those big hands pull at your thighs, lift and spread them to a bent position. All of you open to him. "What does my pretty girl want". Smirking mouth skimming close to where you throb for him wildly. "Tell me hermosa, what do you need".

It flashes in the darkness, all over the nothingness you see. Metal. The sharp edge of lightning colored steel. The beading of blood against taut tan skin.

That's what you want. That's what you need.

Hesitation impedes the surety of your desires, makes your request a small whimper. "Hurt me baby, make me bleed".

The slicing sound un-sheathing makes is uncompromising, a promise of blistering ecstasy. The cool of it melts the mild swelter of your body, but the flat cheek of the blade does nothing to fizzle the reemerging simmer. Goosebumps rising, dull shake tingling your fingers, anticipation swaddling you whole with an intensity purer than ever, born from the loss of sight. Your existence suspends high from his unpredictability, knowing nothing of when or how he'd pierce into you, only that the sting would maraud the remnants of your resolve.

...and you were right. So right.

Consciousness amusing itself with a graceless sway as the pricking tip of the knife opens you gently, cuts skin and awareness alike, forces your heart to thunder loud in your chest, pounding a deafening tune till it trembles you. Shakes the foundations of reason, an unsophisticated annihilation, before he reforms it, molding it anew with the sweep of his tongue, till it's crimson colored and shapeless. Temporary darkness leaves you a panting mess, tortures the evenness of your breaths till your groans grow tired and weak in bizarre delight. He decorates your torso red, burdens your skin with pleasurable pain, brings forth that savory metallic substance time and time again till tears well up in your eyes. The grind in your hips accenting the neediness silhouetting the whimpers in your throat.

"Mark me EZ, make me yours".

Thin and feathery, your request seduces his skin to shudder, ripples the course of his veins till it throbs hard and heavy in his dick. Before it blossoms again, deep to the furthest reaches of him till he's set on nothing else but claiming you. Marking you as his.

Determination rages his fingers, work's him to single mindedness till he's at the underside of your thighs, kissing harsh at the untouched skin. Pink dewy lips smacking wet.

You feel the ascension on this incline of dangerous lust, thrill taking hold as the dig of the knife works into the underside of your left thigh, slipping pass thick skin to formulate perfect intersecting lines till he's formed it. A perfectly sized E etched into your skin. The red is bright as it seeps over the curving plain of your ass, gives the white sheets a bloody kiss before it wears thin from the shallow depth of the cut and lick of his mouth. Repeating the process on your right thigh proves to drive you crazy, a heaving hissing moan greeting the air, steel tip of the blade talking dirty into your flesh, singing vicious, a sharp pitchy wickedness that makes you wetter till you're etched with a Z. Walls gripping with an ache at nothing but the hope and anticipation of being filled.

"I wish you could see how wet you are". Abandoning the knife to pull your lower lips apart with firm thumbs, the swell and pulse of your clit meeting hungry eyes. "How pretty this pussy is".

Vulnerability excites you, restrained by tawny rope and the weight of his build as the greedy lap of his tongue covers your slit, makes you shiver and shake at the idea of him being inescapable. And he knows it too, knows you love the friction of his tongue, the sweet sucking kiss of his lips atop your clit. Knows how it melts you into the sheets, forces that fluid whining motion in your waist. Touch and sight evading you, neglecting you to a plane of darkness ruled by every swirl and lick he decides to give you. Every soft flick and flat wide run of his tongue.

"Licking me so good daddy". He loves how hard you throb, how sobbed and whiny your voice gets. A somewhat amusing but arousing delirium, the uncontrollable cant of your hips telling him just how much you need him.

"Please, please, please", a begging chant. A crying plead for more of whatever he has to give. He knows what you want, what his good girl needs, the delve of his tongue into your opening working a moan through him. The constriction quaking his bones, thumb passing firm, slipping wet over your pussy. For that small simple duration of a second, the rumble resonating from his chest flows through you, transforms the wild pulse to a tight knot forming in your gut. The ache is an unbearably sweet sensation, worthy of breathlessness and the rolling cross of slit eyes. He's killing you with the unceasing suck of his tongue, widening the spread of your legs till he's as deep as can be, moaning in delight at the way you drip and soak the sheets, drown his mouth.

The wild tremble approaches without introduction, washes the whole of you till you're nothing but shaking blissed limbs and broken faltered curses. Dizzy from the chaos of a storming orgasm.

His kiss is an electric relaxation against your lips, a sparking light to your silk house of darkness, a gesture that slowly halts frantic nerves, reigns in the shake holding hard to your limbs. He's patient as ever, as he's always been, hushing you with swollen, arousal dressed lips and firm caressing hands. A combination that lifts you free into the air, plants your feet to some higher grounded place. "Turn us over", you moan. Loving his mouth at your neck, the heated breath at your raging pulse. The rope loosens from your twinged wrist, blindfold from your eyes, both becoming forgotten as you become situated atop his waist. A small chuckle reaching his red tipped ears. "You still have on your jeans".

"Take care of 'em for me". Rasp rumbling low, floating to the barely stilled ache in your core.

You pull at the tough fabric, strip his steel hard legs of the coarse denim before throwing them absentmindedly. But stripping off his underwear is a little more ceremonious, less of a hassle than the jeans, takes more of a delicate touch, more mindfulness. But he's too mesmerized by the shape of your form to notice the way you do that, they way you feel at the sheets, looking, searching, mischief wading in the waters of your stare. Too indulged in the seep of your wetness at his bulge to recognize the wooden handle of his knife resting friendly in your palm. As if the two of you have been more than acquainted for years. He'd had a feeling this would happen, a reciprocal of prior events, and God did it excite something wild in him. Something raw. Primal.

It feels different being on the receiving end, an urgency born that shifts him from predator to prey, suffocates him in a nebulous cloud of submission, but he likes it. Welcomes it even, the sultry form your small show of dominance takes, the reverence it commands. He wants everything you have to give, thinks he'll fall ill if he doesn't get it. And when he does, oh fuck, when he does its ascension to seventh heaven, the sharp dig in his chest flushing his blood straight to the core of him. Heavy throb drumming a simple, steady pounding sensation to his dick.

His hands fly to your waist, holding you down to him. "Mark me your's baby. Give it to me".

Your hips hitch at the longing in his voice, slit brushing a vein pronounced along his length. The transference of possessiveness, living and breathing so madly in him, and now unfurling in you. The will to keep him close, just for you, to yourself, for no one else, seats itself at the throne of your heart. Your lust. Proclaims itself the sovereign for eternity and a day. It influences the way you shift the knife so dearly into his skin, because claiming him takes patience, a single mindedness to get the job done. It titillates your senses, forces the grind in your waist again, waters your mouth, drives the drag of your tongue at the sight of rich crimson blood. Possession is powerful, all consuming, so very dangerous. You want it with him till you can't think, breathe.

It's not so simple anymore, this lovely knife in your hand, it's essential, the tool by which you claim possession. Like a paintbrush, sharp, deadly bristles dragging through a tough skinned canvas. A beautiful dazzling red that savors well in your mouth, screams with its color power, a lusty sort of love. Your initials red and etched into his chest, just over the thundered beat of his heart.

You're his. He's yours.

He's rough, completely exhausted of patience, wild and undone like an animal in heat. He snatches the knife, throws it away and out of view, sits up properly to rest against the headboard, before snatching you by the waist, pulling you forward till you're in his arms. His kiss assails you, bruises your tongue with a need unyielding, but yours washes his mouth with the savory metallic taste of his own blood. He feels crazed, acres of his body standing in the heart of some mountain tall flame. His left arm tethers you to him, secures you, unable to leave his embrace even if you wanted to, but the right grabs hold of his aching length. Jerks and squeezes till he sets it at your opening. Pushes against that lush resistance, growling loud in your ear at the way you suffocate his dick. Leaving him to sit in nothing but the warm, tight sheath of your pussy.

And you feel delirious, at least you think that's what it is, till he reaches below, catches your slick with the pad of his middle and ring finger and slips it easy into your mouth, urges you to savor yourself, and then you realize. Now I'm delirious. Cross eyed, toe curled and delirious.

Your thighs burn, bottom tight in his grip, working his arms to bounce you along the thick heat of him, giving you no other option but to take, feel, submit to every last pulsing inch. The stroke of him is filling, the way it clings, presses well to that spot nestled deep in you, as if he's staking his claim again. Making you his over and over and over. Helpless in his hold, atop his body, it feels so good, feels right, natural, like it was always supposed to happen.

"You're so tight for daddy baby". He roughs you closer, impossibly closer. Your clit catching a grind against the sweat slick skin of his lower abdomen. "Just for me". Slapping at your thigh mildly, enough to wake the sting at its underside. "All for me".

A kiss is shared, lips lingering in the sweetness of it before your heads tucked in his shoulder, light and dizzy.

Beginnings are endings, endings are beginnings, it's all just one big transition. That's what you realize, that's what cements, stains permanent like wine against the fabric of your mind as your walls spasm around him, shudder and gasping in his hold. Seventh heaven isn't high at all, doesn't reach far enough on this ascension into paradise for him. He's looking for something elysian inside you, wants to find it with you, the melodious voices of angels, songs singing sweet of some love, lust everlasting, a clouded palace existing in an eternal white.

You can't help the way they fall, whimpers broken, filled with ecstasy. You can't help it in his lap and you for damn sure can't help it laid out amongst the sheets.

Precision, the bane of his existence, the reason he lives. It shapes the strength of his endurance, purges his blood of that lethal poison people call failure. He has no other way of being but perfect. He can't help himself at all, whatsoever, never placing the fault where it doesn't belong. His passion is flawless, towards love, towards care, towards lust. And oh his lust, a swirling opaque red, without even the simplest blemish. And maybe that's why he works up such a relishing heat in your bones. A defined ache that you wish to never leave you. Because he's perfect, rutting hips, rough finger tips and all.

"Tell it's mine". Fingers pushing hard into the raised calf of your leg. Wetting sloppy kisses into them. "Tell me".

It's your fault really, no one else to blame. You'd wanted him to expand his horizons. Listen to music for a change, calm the storm in his mind. Who knew he'd like Miguel?

.........'tell me that that pussy is mine', he'd sang once in your ear. You were a goner then, still are now......fuck him, Miguel, and that stupid sexy ass song.

..... or maybe not...."It's yours baby". Your hand palming at the base of your belly where you feel him. "It's yours".

But it isn't there for long your hand, pressing, although barely perceptible, at the meeting place of his v-line. A small effective trick of deception you picked up a while ago. Resistance driving persistence. Something about your overwhelmed state, needing a reprieve from him, and yet theres still the mindless swivel of your tired waist. Going going going. The fervid draw of sultry moans, lewd purrs, bringing chills to his spine. It excites him, till he's digging digging digging, filling you to the brim. But what the hell is he looking for? Any further and he'll be in your womb, swelling your belly and feet. Some angelic voice with doe eyes calling you mommy.

You don't need him getting any bright ideas, not now anyways, not while you're delirious. So far gone. Liable to say and agree with anything that comes out that beautiful pink mouth.

You press further, a little more till he feels you squirming away from him. "Oh no no no", he tuts. Raising your fingers to kiss, holding them at your lower abdomen, over the mound he makes inside you. "You don't get to run away from me. You gotta take it pretty girl. You gotta take all of me".

He's a mountain of a man, surrounds you as such. Imposes himself upon you, cages you in with sturdy arms till he's all you can make of the room. A disorienting huskiness tingling your ear. It gives encouragement, directs you, grounds you and the incredible hold you have around him. "That's it mama". Left arm an anchor that supports his weight, the thumb of the hand of his right strumming the pulse at your throat. "Squeeze me tight. Hold on to me".

Pliant atop the bed, your head sinking back into. A hand of your own keeping the spread of your thighs, giving him room to take you the way he wants. "You're gonna make me come again".

"I know baby". Nipping at your pulse. "That's what I want. Give it to me".

Sun-kissed, a summer breeze at your neck, unfurling from fervent lips. The fascination with your body, plains of skin radiating an ethereal glow. Smooth and rich, unbreakable but pliant. Willingly susceptible to his every vice. He adores you, a little ways away from obsessed. Your neck, a curved canvas, waiting idle always for his masterpiece of kisses, teething licks and marking sweet suckles that display the true form of his artistry. But nothing screams master of the medium quite like his hands. The slow burdening wrap of them. The mighty build of pressure on your throat.

Ezekiel's all power. Hips snapping brutishly. Succumbing you to him, his will, your life in the palm of his hand.

"Harder please". Gasping. Air leaving, arousal mounting. Colors waning everywhere you can see them. Becoming less sharp. Vividness tainted. Your vision blurry. "Please".

He could break you, break you good. Give his wrist a curt twist and then snap! But he doesn't, he keeps you with him, tumbles into the depths of your autumn brown eyes instead. And there it is. Taut muscles, shivered skin, heavy breaths and the unstoppable drag of blissed moans. Pulse uncontrollable. An ocean wave casting you both off into the sea. Ascension passed the seventh heaven, to live, breathe. Walk amongst the angels.

A cry off your swollen kissed lips, and the reaching of your arms. You need him close, feeling too far away, too dazed, just a little too good.

He's there. "Shhh. I got you. I'm here".

Touching earth after flying so long. It's daunting. Surreal.

Drifting, drifting, drifting. That's all there is now.

"Don't go to sleep, not yet".

The pads of his feet, sounding like heavy ritual drums. Thunder rocking the earth. Your senses raw. Numb. Both all at once. Seconds turn into, one two......seven eight minutes.

He's returned. "Drink this baby".

There's no slap of the thigh or bruising kiss that meets your whine of opposition. Just a gentle hand guiding you to replenish whats been lost while in the throes of passion. An iron pill for lust spilled blood, and water to quench bodily thirst.

He remedies your cuts the same as he'd done his own. Soothes them with a healing gel before bandaging them. His touch a revitalized tenderness. Slow and measured. Loving.

You can hear the wonders of night in the silence. The rustle of trees dancing with calming breezes. Dipping and bending as they please, in whatever fashion that suits them.

His heart pumps in the stillness too, a low pitched orchestra of just percussion and riveting bass.

You giggle. Small and mischievous.

"What?", he asks. Stroking lazy at your hairline.

Clearing your voice seems appropriate, so that's what you do. "I may or may not have lied about something". He's shifts, situating himself, gearing up to hear whatever it is you have to say. "I haven't spoken to Xavier in a while. Three weeks to be exact. Not since you told me you didn't like me being around him".

He can't help the chuckle of disbelief. "All that just to get your way". A pinch at your side he gives. "Such a brat".

"You enjoyed it though".

"I did".

The affirmation settles something in you, calms the doubt formulating. But by the way his brow furrows, jaw setting tight, you know he isn't finished.

"But you know I'd never hurt you against your will right? I'd never do anything unless you wanted it".

"EZ you don't have to say-"

"No I do". His stare holds you, refuses to let go. "And I need to hear you say you understand. That you know".

"I know that you'd never hurt me Ezekiel". But now it's your turn, to hold him hostage, stare him down into his soul, because its two fold. There's no one without the other. "And the same goes for you".

When it finally comes, after a myriad of small subduing touches, sleep is the best it's ever been. It's perfect.

#mayans mc #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #ezekiel reyes x black!reader #its her fault yall #she put a gun to my head and made me write this #no but forreal #the process for this was funny asf because its just me and sheem drooling over EZ and knives #joannasteez #its a long one #this is by far the filthiest thing ive written and idk what to do with myself #actually very nervous about this #small #kinda funny? miguel reference #the singer of course

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samwilsonsbabymama · 4 years ago

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EZ’s Claim

18+

Pairing: Ezekiel Reyes x Black Reader

Summary: Pure smut

Warning: Smut, creampie, a touch of cockwarming, more smut, i think that’s it.

Word Count: 594

A/N: @nxxstybrat requested a while ago that I write something for EZ similar to this fic and this is what I came up with. I do have another EZ fic in the works, so I might make it a part 2 to this fic or a stand alone fic, I haven’t decided yet. Not sure when I’m actually gonna write it though lol I typed this last night on my phone lol there are probably a lot of mistakes but I’ll fix them at a later date. I hope you all enjoy!

✨I don’t give anyone permission to copy/translate/repost/rewrite my work. Minors, DNI at all. ✨

EZ had you belly down, spread eagle underneath him. His fingers were locked with yours as he nipped at your throat. His hips slowly pushed his dick deeper inside of you as you gasped at the pleasure. The backs of your thighs were on top of his as he begged you to spread them wider.

Your gentle tears fell onto the sheets as he fucked you slowly. You attempted to push back against him pushed back on him, silently begging him to go faster. He chuckled and continued his slow pace, wanting to pull yet another orgasm from you.

You were teetering on the edge; you only needed something to send you over.

EZ slid his hand down your side. It would have tickled under any other circumstance, but your mind was focused on his destination. EZ gripped your hip before slipping his hand beneath you. His fingers instantly found your clit and his touches brought you to and over the edge.

You came, crying his name softly into the pillow. You didn’t realize you were crying harder until you felt EZ kissing your tears away.

EZ pulled himself out of you and you whimpered at the loss. He shushed you and he turned you over. He smiled at the blissed-out look on your face before he kissed you deeply. Your arms instantly went around his neck as you pulled him close. You could feel him hard and heavy on your thigh and your body shook with anticipation.

EZ pulled back and gripped his dick in his hand. Your legs spread automatically and he smiled. He tapped your lips with his dick once, twice, three times before he slid the tip in. Your breath quickened with excitement as you waited for him to continue.

But he didn’t.

He pulled out and laid his dick on top of your lips. His eyes glazed over as he watched your slick coat him. You whined each time his head reached your clit. You wanted him, but you knew all of this would end if you rushed him.

His eyes locked with yours once more.

"You got one more in you?" He asked. You both knew that you did, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"One more, baby, please," you begged. Your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you. He flashed you that million-dollar smile before he slowly slid back home.

He hooked your leg around his waist and pulled you flush against him.

"I don't know if one is going to be enough, I might want another, and another, and another one after that." His hips punctuated each word, and you held on for dear life.

Your cries filled the air and EZ moaned in your ear telling you how good you feel. You babbled something about wanting him to fill you up, something he'd never done before, him being the Pullout King, but this time, you wanted to feel it all.

His breathing became uneven, and you knew he was closer than he let on. You clenched around him, in an effort to make him cum.

"Cum in me, please," you begged. You felt his hips stutter just before he groaned in your ear and you felt his warm cum shoot into you spurt after spurt. You rubbed his back and kept him pulled close to you as your breathing returned to normal.

You felt him twitch inside of you seconds before he began to thrust again. "I'm gonna need another one, baby girl," he said, before claiming your lips once again.

[Part Two]

A/N 2: If you ‘liked’ it, please reblog or leave a comment/reply even if it’s only an emoji.

#Ezekiel Reyes x black!reader #Ezekiel Reyes x reader #Ezekiel Reyes x black reader #Ezekiel Reyes imagine #Ezekiel Reyes fanfiction #Ezekiel Reyes x plus size!reader #Ezekiel Reyes x plus size reader #EZ Reyes x black!reader #EZ Reyes x reader #EZ Reyes x black reader #EZ Reyes imagine #EZ Reyes fanfiction #EZ Reyes x plus size!reader #EZ Reyes x plus size reader #Mayans mc fanfiction #Maree writes

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joannasteez · 3 years ago

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ugh this was beyond cute, so freakin’ wholesome and you captured him so perfectly. i loved this!!!

sfw alphabet | ezekiel reyes.

an: cannot remember the last story i've uploaded here, so i'm a bit rusty and too lazy to edit. hope you all enjoy this.

p.s.: ...i dare you to listen to the song I picked, for X, and say it doesn't fit Ez.

pairing: ez reyes x black!reader | rating: 🥰

Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Don't expect him to declare his love for you in the middle of a crowded Friday night clubhouse party. Ez isn't a man of grand gestures. He believes it's the small things that count the most. In public, his acts are subtle. A caress of his thumb on your hand. A kiss against your forehead before he leaves, a wink as he catches your eyes across the room. Behind closed doors, he's more comfortable letting his lips and hands linger. His affection is often shown through acts of service and quality time. He tries to split his time with you and the club equally. Even if he feels he's about to collapse from exhaustion, he'll drive to wherever you are to spend even a few short hours with you. You're cooking dinner, he'll help out the best way he can (e.g., buying and measuring ingredients and setting the table is as far as his expertise go). You've endured a shitty shift at work. He'll pick you up and stop by your favorite ice cream shop on the way home.

Beauty: what do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Ez is beginning to learn the importance of being more than just book smart. He loves that you're able to teach him new things. He is also not known for his confidence. When often asked to describe the Reyes men, most dub Angel as the one with confidence. In his time with you, Ez has learned there are many forms of confidence. Your confidence may not be as loud as Angel's--frankly, no one's is--but Ez loves that you're not afraid to speak your mind or stand by your ideas.

Cuddle: do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?

No matter how often you tell him it's not his job to protect you, Ez's mind only rests when you're in his arms. He loves the weight of your head against his chest. The soft misplaced kisses you press against his skin as he climbs into bed hours after you. There are nights where the roles are reversed, where he's the one wrapped in your embrace. Let's just say, he quickly realized the magic behind the little spoon.

Domestic: do they want to settle down? How are they around the house?

From the first morning, he woke alongside you, this kid was a goner! After years of sleeping alone, the warmth of your skin against his was an intoxicating feeling. The sight of a soft smile forming on your lips as you first realized that, despite all of his talents, Ez was better of filling the role of sous-chef. The relief he feels the second he pulls into your driveway to see the living room light still on. Ez knew he would never be able to go back to his life before you. The two of you, alone, is when he feels the weight on his shoulders lift. All the pressures and expectations Ez is constantly trying to exceed, drift away the moment your eyes light up at his arrival. With you, he knows you only expect to be one thing: himself. He's still struggling to find out exactly who that is, but he feels it's easier to do so when it's just you two.

Ending: if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

Ezekiel Reyes has a big heart--a trait passed down to each of Marisol's sons. But bless this man's heart. Despite being a "genius," Ez Reyes will definitely pull a "you're better off without me" break up. He'll try to do what he's done his entire life, approach the situation logistically. The club and the responsibilities it demands from him is too much. The dangers they present to you. The time it takes away from him and you. Time you could spend finding someone who can make you truly happy, someone who could give you all of themselves. It's all bullshit. You know it. He knows it. Ez knows that you know it's all bullshit, but he says it anyway. He knows there's a part of him that realizes what truly fuels the breakup: his fear that you were meant to be together in a different life--his life before Stockton--not this one.

Fight: would it be easy to forgive their s/o? how does he show forgiveness?

At the height of the moment, fights with Ezekiel are often one-sided. Don't count on him to take you head-on in a screaming match. He won't ever raise his voice at you. Ez wishes he could give credit to the gift of patience, but Ez's patience is not as strong as he portrays. Ez has a tendency to bottle up his emotions. Part of it comes from growing up in a household with a brother who wears his emotions on his sleeve. The other part comes from the routines drilled into him behind the walls of Stockton. Ez is the type to try and talk things through, but he knows there's no point in talking to you when you're angry.

When he's the reason for the fight, Ez apologizes. He owns his shit. If the roles are reversed, and you're seeking his forgiveness, Ez's solution is still to talk about it. He's not going to rashly cut you off and not allow you the chance to explain your understanding.

Gentle: how gentle are they?

Ez harbors a gentle soul. He shows this in the ways he communicates with you. He listens to your thoughts, ideas, and concerns. He shares his own with you. Even the way he talks to you is different than how he speaks to others. He's lost track of the number of times Angel has teased him for talking "all soft and sweet" to you. Unfortunately, he does have a terrible habit of treating you as though you are made of glass. Part of it stems from his belief that his lifestyle is too "dangerous." The other part stems from his fear that he will cause what you two are building together to break. He tries his best to ease up, but it's hard to break a habit.

Hugs: do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?

Please do not shy away from them. Ez loves hugs. Probably more once you tell him that his hugs are "magical." You swear they help erase all the stress from your day. Half hugs? Who even does that? He engulfs you, holding you tight until you tilt your head back for a kiss. His favorites are when your back is pressed against him, your weight relaxed against his chest, his arms tight around your middle. His lips pressing soft kisses against your neck and shoulder as you work.

I Love You: how fast do they say the L-word?

The kid may be a hopeless romantic, but you're going to have to hold out for the l-word. I'm talking at least five to six months into your relationship. Ez doesn't confuse lust with love. He's not going to say he loves you if he doesn't truly feel it. He knows the power the word holds. More and likely, you say it first. That doesn't mean you're on a different page. He'll say it back instantly. The smile on his face is all you need to know it's true.

Jealously: how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?

Ez is not a jealous man. He doesn't flip his lid when he sees another guy talking to you. It's not that Ez doesn't care. It's just his level of trust in you. He also knows you can handle yourself. He does make a point to step in when he feels someone's getting a little too close for comfort. Even then, don't expect him to respond with violence right off the bat. His response is usually subtle. A kiss as his arm wraps around your waist, the smile on his lips nothing short of his trademark, easy-going nature. His smile may be easygoing, but the look in his eyes is often enough to get his warning across.

Kisses: what are their kisses like? where do they like to be kissed?

His kisses are soft and slow. His goal is often to make them last. You always catch sight of a grin when you pause to steal a final kiss before leaving. He's learned what each of your kisses means. His favorites are the ones that needily press against his lips, the lingering of your lips letting him know you need to sneak away for a few minutes.

Little Things: what little things do they love and notice about you?

Ez is a sucker for your smile. He knows all of the forms it comes in and takes pride in being the reason you smile. Family is important to Ez. Always has been, always will be. The kid was already falling, but the moment he saw you getting along with Angel and Felipe, he was sold. Ez loves that you build relationships with each of them outside of you and his relationship.

Morning: how are mornings spent with them?

You can escape the walls of Stockton, but it's hard to escape the routines you've built inside of them. Ez rarely sleeps in. Even on mornings where, he is exhausted, begging for a few more hours of sleep, he's up out of bed. He always wakes before you, stopping to press a kiss against your lips before he gets up. Don't expect an elaborate breakfast in bed. Ez can do the basics, make you a cup of coffee or tea. He isn't much of a cook, so he does know where to find the best breakfast burritos. Ez will help you cook. You're quick to learn that he takes directions very well. Ez works out the moment he's out of bed, so you can often count on him convincing you to "save water" and shower together.

Nights: how are nights spent with them?

Don't try and wait up for him. Primarily because Ez rarely makes it home before you're ready to go to bed. Secondly, it stresses him out to come home and find you're up worrying about him. He's supposed to be the one worrying about you. He'll always call or text to let you know if he's going to get home late. Most nights, he'll make it home to find you've saved him a plate. Before he stops to eat, undress, take a shower--anything for that matter--Ez stops by your bedroom. He leaves a kiss against your lips, smiling softly as you shift closer for a second kiss. You always fall back asleep almost instantly.

On Cloud Nine: What are they like when they're in love?

All smiles. Uncontrollable smiles anytime someone mentions your name. Cheese-eating, ear to ear, smiles every single time. It makes Angel gag.

PDA: Are they into it?

PDA isn't Ez's vibe. He's very subtle with it. But, he is also cheeky AF. So, he's not one to shy away from grabbing your ass when he's stealing a kiss from time to time.

Quizzes: do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they forget everything?

Ez doesn't remember every little detail, but he comes damn near close. He is a man who focuses on attention to detail, so if it's important to you, it's important to him. If it's something that he knows you care and are passionate about, he's committed it to memory.

Romantic: are they romantic during the relationship?

Is Ez Reyes romantic? That's like asking if water is wet. Growing up, he saw his mother and father in a loving relationship. He always wanted to find someone who loved the way his mother loved. He's learned the importance of showing appreciation and love to those you claim to "love." Ez points out how much you mean to him and how grateful he is to have you in his life.

Security: how protective are they?

When you're just friends, he's the type of person to offer to walk you home or to your car. He'll make you're safely inside your house before leaving. He isn't possessive, but Ez is overprotective at times. He's used to having to stand his ground and showing that his calm demeanor doesn't mean he can be tested. The sight of him and his Kutte is often enough to make people clear out, but he will go to blows over you if necessary.

Try: how much effort would they put into dates and gifts?

He's busy, with a lot on his plate, but Ez takes his time with you very seriously. He tries to make sure the time he gets with you is perfect. Even if it's a quick bite to eat before he has to head back to join the club. Ez doesn't give big and elaborate gifts. Instead, they are often small tokens he's picked up that remind him of you.

Ugly: what would be some habits they possess?

Ez is reserved. His biggest fault is he bottles things up. He knows it's a terrible habit, but it's a terribly difficult habit to break. He hopes you don't take offense to it.

Value: how valuable is your relationship to him?

Extremely. He keeps it under wraps for the first month or so. He's admittedly selfish. He wants to keep you to himself, away from the club, in the initial stages.

Wedding: do they want marriage? how do they propose?

Ez proposes to you away from the eyes of others. In a place special to just the two of you. His main focus is to ensure you understand why he believes he's worthy of marrying a woman like you.

Xylophone: what song represents your relationship?

Montana by Daya.

Your arms wrapped tight around him, chin pressed against the leather of his kutte. Nothing but the stretch of road before you. Ez has lost count of the number of times he's nearly left Santo Padre behind. No bags packed, no planned destination, just the hope of finding a place where he can build the life he's dreamt of with you.

Yearning: how do they cope when they're missing you?

He knows it sounds cliche, but Ez swears all he needs to hear is your voice for things to feel right. So when he's away, he'll stop to call you when he needs to. If time permits facetime, he'll pick that as his first option so that he can see your smile.

Zzz. what's it like sharing a bed?

Chalk it up to years of sleeping alone, but Ez sleeps directly on top of you. An arm wrapped around you, keeping your body pressed against his. He swears it's the only way he can have a full night of sleep.

#ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #mayans mc #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x black!reader

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fckwritersblock · 2 years ago

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Focus

Ez Reyes x Black Reader

Description: Drabble. I was literally listening to Chris Brown To My Bed

Don’t know what this is but…enjoy I guess lmao currently editing a few other one shots & catching up on the Mayans and when I looked up Ez was on my TV so.

Everyone was drunk and shit and I was sick of their shit. The plus side no one seemed to be paying me any attention anymore. Pulling out my phone I searched for the number before sending a quick texting.

Come get me querida

I figured if I didn’t drive everybody might think I was knocked out in the trailer and leave me the fuck alone for a little bit. Angel would definitely take the hint if ot was locked. Not too long after that my phone buzzed with a response.

Why should I?

Y/n.

You’re no fun.

about 30 minutes after I sent that message I got another one tell me to come outside. I jogged out the door and hopped in her car before she could completely stop. Last thing I needed was for someone to see her and start asking questions. I was already in some shit, I didn’t need to add anything else to my plate.

“El presidente know you coming?" She smiled turning around to head back to her house.

This girl loved to tease me about this prospect shit. Got a shot in any chance ate got.

It’s ok though.

I got something for that ass tonight.

I rolled my eyes, "You know I don’t have to tell that man everything I do."

She laughed hard at me, "Yeah right. You on a time limit and everything now boo. You sure you ain't gotta be back at a certain time? Run some errands? Hold anybodys dick while they piss? Or did daddy say his little bitch can sleep over tonight?"

She started talking to me like I was a baby pinching my check with one hand after we pulled up to a red light. Y/n laughed as I swatted her hand away before I placed my hand on her thigh leaning in towards her ear, "Why you being funny?"

She swallowed hard, tightening her grip on the steering wheel as she pulled off. “Why you close for? I'm driving nigga you can't distract me."

Grinning I slid my hand up her thigh. I bit my lip at the fact that she was wearing a dress.

That's my girl, make that shit easy for me.

"Ez stop." She giggled, driving with one hand as she pushed

my hand away with the other.

"You don't forreal want me to." I glided my finger over the outside of her panties.

Lace.

My favorite.

Barely anything there.

They were that much easier to soak and and even easier to destroy.

"Ezekiel" She was breathing heavy, her eyes darting all over the place as if someone was watching her, "I can't focus baby."

I laughed, rubbing her pearl a lil bit harder as her legs slightly parted a bit more. I don’t even think she realized she was opening up for me. More like muscle memory.

"Better learn to control it baby, cuz I know you don't really want me to stop. In fact," I slid my fingers through the thin fabric, "Something is telling me you loving this shit ma."

She bit her lip to stop her moans from coming out. I rubbed my fingers around her clit, slipping all in her wetness.

"You're an ass..." She moaned out, her eyelids looking heavy. I could feel the slight roll of her hips in attempt to create more friction.

"You love it though," I dipped my digits inside her waterfall, "How wet this shit is, don't even try lying babe."

Y/n struggled to drive the rest of the way to her crib. I played around in her wetness, leaving her no choice but to enjoy it.

Soon as she stopped the car I leaned over to her, planting soft kisses on her neck.

She moaned out, turning the car off and opening her door but

not able to get out.

"Ez...." She rubbed the back of my head as I kissed on her neck,

"We gonna make it to the bed this time babe?"

She was practically putty in my hand.

I laughed in her necking, making her giggle, probably tickling a bit.

"You know we gon' try." I spoke into her ear.

Uh huh.

Yeah right.

Soon as we hit her front door we were all over one another.barely able to get the door shut.

"Ez please make it to the bed." She moaned into my mouth.

I laughed sliding my hands down her ass, picking her up and placing her on my waist.

"Where's the fun in the bed?" I joked, suckling on her neck, moving on down her chest.

"Have we ever done it in a bed Ez?" She leaned her head back

giving me more access to her body.

I laughed kicking her door open, "Hell if I know Y/n."

She bit her lip as I lowered her onto the edge of the bed. I smirked, hovering over her, easing my body down on hers.

She was already tryna pull my pants down with her feet before I could even get situated.

"Wait a minute baby," I started rising her dress up her body. "Now you know," I kissed her left thigh, licking circles to her panties, “I gotta eat it," I did the same exact thing to her right thigh, "Before I beat it."

#black!reader #black writer #black female reader #ez reyes #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x you #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes #mayans mc fanfic

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saturnville · 2 years ago

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bibliophiles

pairing: ez reyes x black!oc

warning: none

He recommended Don Quixote. Never had she expected a broody and seemingly dark biker to be overly invested in literature—sixteenth century literature at that.

He remembered the confusion on her face when she flipped through the first few pages and saw it was the original version written in Spanish. Her eyes had pleaded with him to give her another suggestion, but he reiterated her desire to learn his native tongue and said it’s be a good challenge.

She finished the book in two weeks—an unusual length of time for her to finish a book—and gave a full report to him when they saw one another again in his father’s shop.

“You liked it?” he asked her, a half smile pulling at his lips.

She nodded and pushed her glasses further upon her nose. “Yes, it was good. Challenging, but good. I had a dictionary pulled up next to me every time I read it.”

He chuckled. “Dedication. I like it.” She responded with a sly smile. “Since you gave me such a challenge, I can only offer the same in return, Ezekiel.”

His stomach tingled, he loved the way she said his name. EZ ignored the looks from his father and older brother as he finally broke and took a seat by the old, rickety bookshelf where his childhood imagination was first introduced. He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward on his elbows.

“What do you have, Indra?”

The woman dug into a familiar navy blue shoulder bag and pulled out a book as large as his head. Intrigued, he leaned forward more. “What’s this?”

“Beowulf. The original version from between the eighth and eleventh century first book recorded in the English language. Old English.”

“Ah,” EZ hissed, picking up the book. Indra watched as he clutched the book in his hands, flicking through some of the pages. He rose his eyebrows in amusement. “A challenge indeed. You gonna give me a time limit, too?”

“Three weeks max.” Indra stood from her seat, prepared to exit.

“Not so fast...” he dug into the side of his cut, pulling out another book. “Macbeth.” She examined the book closely. The cover was in tact, the spine was sturdy, and the pages were as crisp as new dollar bills. He bought it, she concluded. She bought it just for her. “Little birdie told me it was your favorite.” He hoped she hadn’t caught him glancing at his father.

Indra thanked him wholeheartedly. The gesture was simple yet so sweet, it made her insides flutter. Their exchange had gone on for going on two months and she couldn’t get enough of it. Often times, she found herself finishing her novels early and coming into the store just to have a reason to look into his hazel eyes or slide her fingers against his.

“No problem.”

“See you in a few weeks,” Indra bid her farewell, but was soon interrupted by EZ’s hand around her arm. “Yes?”

“Can I,” he cleared his throat. “Can I take you out sometime? Don’t want to have to keep waiting for a literature exchange to see you...”

Indra tucked the book further underneath her arm and readjusted her glasses. Here she was, about to dive into Macbeth for the umpteenth time, only to be caught off guard by him asking her on a...date?

“Like a date?”

His face flushed as he nodded slowly. Her uncertainty made his insides twist.

“Yeah, if you’re okay with it.“

“Of course I am.” She cursed herself for speaking so quickly. EZ chuckled softly. “I mean, that sounds nice.”

His beautiful eyes met hers and she fought the urge to grin like a fool. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, yeah?”

She didn’t trust her ability to utter words so she nodded slowly with a wide smile on her lips.

EZ turned on his heels and tossed a smile over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, querida.”

“Bye, Ezekiel…”

#ezekiel reyes x oc #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #ez reyes x black!reader #ez reyes x black reader #mayans fx #fx mayans mc #mayans x reader #mayans imagine #mayans mc #black!oc #angel reyes x black reader

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berberriescorner · 3 months ago

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“Get Your Act Together”

Part of the “Say What Now?” Song Series

Characters: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader.

Summary: A reader who’s petty and needs to teach jealous and possessive Angel a lesson.

Warnings: Strong language, sexual content, suggestive themes, possessive behavior, and jealousy.

Word Count: 2,900+

AN: This one is for my lovelies @darqchilddaydreamz and @ravennaortiz! Be sure to give my babies a shout-out for encouraging me to finish this one. They gave me the push I needed to do so. I hope all my loves enjoy this one. Yes, I’m aware, the dress is different in the storyboard, but it still gives what needs to be given. Okay!

Inspired By💖:

People closest to you, whether friends or family, always expressed that they envied your level of pettiness. It was as if you were the queen of petty. Your best friend often compared your skills to a lioness hunting its prey. If someone pissed you off purposefully, you weren’t always quick to act. It was much better when you waited, letting that person feel they had gotten away with something. Once you noticed it had slipped their mind, that they were comfortable. That would be when you took the time to get revenge. Pettiest bitch alive.

Your current mood and setting could be used as an amazing example. There you were sitting at the kitchen island. Eyes focused on the portable LED makeup mirror propped on the counter. One hand held your eyelid as the other drew a precise wing. Music flowed throughout the house and you rocked your hips while sitting on the bar stool. Your hair had been curled and pinned. You wanted the curls to set in before taking them down. You were fresh out of the shower, almost fully dressed, and smelled divine. To avoid any makeup spills, you had slipped into your silk robe.

The song had switched just as you put the finishing touches on your look. The track that started was perfect for how you were feeling. It was fitting for the little plan you had set in motion. Revenge was for sure sweet. “Beating Down Yo Block” by Monaleo flooded the house. Sliding out of your robe, you started letting your curls loose. Walking over to your heels, you slid them on as the song’s beat sunk into your veins.

Using your fingers to comb through the fresh curls, you started rapping your favorite part. “Bitch I’m fine! Slim waist, pretty face, he know I’m a dime.” Still combing through the curls you dipped to the ground, dress riding up a bit as you did a little twerk. The sound of bikes approached your driveway and you smiled to yourself. Damn, I have perfect timing.

Giving a classy little twerk in the living room mirror, you continued to rap the lyrics, “Ain’t no pressure ‘bout no ninja, tell his ass to fall in line.” The front door opened and your alarm was disabled. You heard him call out to you. You stayed silent, a devilish smirk played upon your lips. Angel walked into the living room. Your eyes met in the mirror as you said the next line in the song. This time, your ‘Megan knees’ were in full effect. “Cause for this next line you gotta look me in my eyes. If you think I’ma sweat you, you out your mothafuckin’ mind.”

Angel was too mesmerized by your ass in the little black dress you had on. He had picked up on the subliminal message of the lyrics but was more interested in your attire. His eyes scanned over you, as his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He could feel himself hardening. That was until he remembered you two weren’t alone. He growled seeing Coco to his left and Ez to his right. Both men were ogling you. Ezekiel’s reaction was more shocked. Coco’s grin was a mile long as he sat there eating every bit of the image up.

Angel being jealous and possessive, barked at you, “Stop throwing ass in front of company. Pull that short-ass dress down. Where the fuck do you think you’re going dressed like that anyway?”

“First off I was here, by myself, getting ready, and enjoying my company. I can twerk as much as I want in my damn house. You barged your tall lanky ass into my shit. Stop talking to me crazy, Angel. To answer your question. I’m going out with my girls.”

“Our shit.”

“Sleeping here almost every night doesn't mean a thing to me. You still have your place and my last name hasn’t changed.

“If you wear that short-ass dress, we’re going with you. Your ass is damn near out.”

“Stop being dramatic. No, it isn’t! I do not need a babysitter, Angel. If you can do you, I can do me, right?”

Angel understood what it was all about now.

“Why do you have to be so petty? How does that much evil fit in such a short body?”

Your shoulders shrugged, as your hips swayed to the mirror to touch up your lip combo. Angel walked up behind you pulling you into his chest. His lips ghosted your bare shoulder, giving it a playful bite, and his hips thrust against you.

“Stay here with me, mi dulce. I want to get you out of this dress.”

You felt him press into you and fought back a whimper. You refused to allow Angel to have his way. You pushed off of him.

“I’m going out tonight in this dress, end of conversation. On second thought, I take that back. Let’s have a chat about dresses. Mine is an issue, but it wasn’t a problem last weekend,” you purred.

“Last weekend? What are you talking about?”

Yeah, playing dumb is not going to slide this time, jackass.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Angel.”

Your obtuse boyfriend looked to Coco and Ez for help. Both men threw their hands up, wanting no part of the conversation.

“Here let me jog your memory. Remember when I walked into the party at the clubhouse last weekend? When you hadn’t noticed, because you were too busy entertaining that fucking hang around. The one who conveniently dropped her phone and bent over to pick it up. Had all three of you dumbasses staring at her bare ass. I couldn’t give one iota of a fuck about your boys staring, but you? Yeah, that’s a problem. You want to be possessive? I’ll do the same. You want to stare at other bitches? Let’s see how you feel about other men eyeing me, Papa. My dress isn’t nearly as short as the one that thirsty hoe had on. I’ve told you one too many times not to play with me. Now I’ma show you better than I could ever tell you, baby.”

Angel tried to save face in front of his friends. He mumbled, “Nobody worried about shit. Go out, it won’t affect me as much as you think, Mami.”

Your eyes locked in with both EZ and Coco. You all smirked, communicating without even saying a word. He wanted to be cute in front of his little friends?

I can be funny too, and have them help a sista out.

Your heels clicked over to Angel. Sliding your hands on his chest, you looked up at him with fluttering lashes. Face painted with an innocent expression, you stood on your tiptoes to steal a quick kiss. He smiled down at you thinking he had won. You leaned in and teased him.

“Ass fat. Kitty fat. I got all these men wishing they could have that. Baby, just admit that you love it here,” you smirked trying to get a rise out of him.

Angel kissed his teeth and was about to say something sarcastic, but Ez cut him off, “God, I did not need to know that,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, bro but he needs to be reminded of what he’s got at home,” she teased the flustered Mayan.

Kissing his teeth Angel retorted, “You the one acting up. Better chill out before I give you some act right.”

“I mean come on ‘mano, that ass is fat. You better appreciate that fine-ass woman,” Coco challenged.

Angel looked at him as if he had lost his mind. It took everything in Ezekiel to keep from laughing.

Still staring at Coco like a madman he replied, “Bitch, do you want me to shoot you? Stop looking at my girl’s ass!”

Ezekiel wanted in with busting his brother's balls. Like a typical annoying baby brother, he joined in on the fun, “Sister or not. We’re not real blood, so I’ve gotta agree with Coco, brother-.”

“Don’t finish that fucking statement, Ezekiel,” Angel warned.

Ez and Coco exchanged a knowing glance before the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“What? It’s the truth! That’s a nice ass, with a nice set of ti-.”

In a split second Angel was lunging at Ezekiel. With your help, Coco managed to break up the scuffle among the brothers.

“Jesus, bro. Learn how to handle a joke!”

“Fuck both of y’all,” Angel pouted, no longer enjoying being the brunt of the joke.

“No disrespect. My bad, it is fat though,” he chuckled along with Ezekiel.

“Bunch of bitches,” Angel groaned.

Feeling you had tortured him enough for the evening, you walked over to him wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hey, look at me,” you cooed, gripping his chin softly.

“Baby, you know they’re joking. If anybody tried me like that, I’d curse them out. Relax, you know you give them shit about their significant others as well. Luckily you have sense enough not to try that shit in front of me, because I’d kick you in the balls,” she smiled innocently. Now calm down and give me kisses, papa.”

His arms wrapped around your waist as he lifted you off the ground. Three pecks and a hungry kiss later, EZ and Coco stood there rolling their eyes.

“All this lovey-dovey shit is making my stomach turn. Cut it out,” Coco grumbled.

“One more, mama. Make it real good so Coco can lose his dinner.”

He leaned in to capture your lips. It was slow and dirty. All teeth and tongue. Without breaking eye contact, his left hand trailed down your back. Stopping at your backside, he grabbed a handful. His left hand lifted from your waist as he flipped his brothers off.

“Now how can you get mad, when you know for a fact that it's fat? Look at how you just gripped the shit out of it. You got any sisters or cousins packing something that serious? Hook us up,” Coco begged.

It was your turn to flick them off. Pulling away from the kiss, you bounced over to your brothers. Raising on tiptoes you slapped them both in the back of the head.

“That’s for staring at my ass!”

Another smack.

“That’s for conveniently forgetting you both have old ladies. Whom I adore. I’m snitching on you bitches. Do I have any sisters or cousins? Get out my face with that mess, joke or not, I’ll beat your ass. Angel’s all the heathen my family can tolerate,” you joked.

Angel sat back with his arms crossed admiring you. Feeling his stare, your eyes connected as you bit your lip.

Both men sandwiched you in between giving you bear hugs. Ezekiel kissed your temple before pulling back.

“Lo siento, hermanita.”

“Yeah, querida. We didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Angel makes it so easy to fuck with him.”

Angel raised both middle fingers to his brothers. Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly. With a tug of his shirt, he understood your signal to lower himself to your height. You pecked his lips several times. He stood there smiling like a love-struck idiot as you wiped your gloss from his lips.

With a pat on his chest, you made a beeline to your handbag. You made sure you had your keys and cell phone. With confirmation, you turned in the direction of the three men.

“Alright baby, I’m heading over to besties. I’m leaving my car at hers, and she’s driving us to the bar.”

Angel cut you off, growling your full name. “I’m serious, querida. If you’re wearing that we’re coming too.”

The two of you stared each other down. You refused to give in to his demands. With a shrug of the shoulders, you responded, “Then I guess y’all hittin’ the bar tonight.” The keys in your hand were tossed across the living room as Angel caught them. He looked at you, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, you thought I was changing? No, baby boy. I hope you three didn’t have any plans.”

To the three men’s absolute horror, not only did they have you to watch over. EZ and CoCo were pissed to learn that the besties you were hitting the town with were their old ladies. They too, had on dresses that left little to the imagination.

When you went for revenge, it was always the most pettiest, delicious thing ever. The Mayan men spent the next two hours threatening anybody who so much as looked in your direction. They sat at the bar mugging, while you and the girls danced the night away.

Later that night after everyone had returned to their homes, Angel sat in the recliner. His eyes collided with yours as you swept into the living room fresh out of the shower. He looked pissed as you giggled, standing between his legs.

“What did we learn today,” you asked in your best kindergarten-teacher voice.

“What the fuck are you on about, querida?”

You leaned forward running your hands up his arms. You crawled into his lap, smiling mischievously. Your arms linked behind his neck as you rocked a bit. Inwardly you did a little victory dance as you heard him groan.

Your face stopped inches away from his. The two of you were close enough that your breath fanned one another. “Don’t play dumb. What did you learn, Daddy?”

“That you’re a petty ass woman.”

“Boy, stop! You already knew that.” Your hips circled on his lap. Angel's hands gripped your thighs tighter as he groaned, “Fuck.”

“Answer me, Daddy,” you cooed, rocking your hips back and forth over his hardening erection. “I’ll even help you out. Repeat after me.”

“I learned,” you started, pressing against him harder. You halted your movement, waiting for him to repeat it.

Angel kissed his teeth, “You gonna take this away,” he started, palming your covered mound. Your breath hitched, as you fought for control. Unable to say anything, your head nodded.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, “I fucking learned,” he growled.

“Not to pay thot-ass, hang-around-ass hoes any mind.”

“I’m not saying that shit, Mami.”

“Ignacio,” you growled back, “Just say the shit so we can fuck already.”

“Fine! I’ll ignore every thot ass hoe who steps foot in the clubhouse. Does that work for your pretty ass,” he asked, giving your left cheek a light smack.

“I mean, I guess.”

Angel cocked his head back, “You guess? Mi dulce, you know I don’t want that girl. She was being thirsty. That’s what they do.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You look at women’s asses all the time. Why is it cool when you’re all like, ‘Babe, look at her ass! Sis, packing a wagon,” he mocked.

“That’s different. You gotta have permission, love.”

“You know you’re crazy as fuck. Right?”

“Yep! Enough of this. Do you want to make it up to me? Take me upstairs, put me on my back, and eat me until I can’t see straight.”

With an evil smirk, Angel had you in the bedroom, on your back instantly. The head he’d given caused your vision to blur. Without any time to come down, Angel flipped you onto your knees. He buried himself deep, pulling at your curls. Angel bent you into the perfect arch. He was in no mood to be nice. Flashes of you in that dress being ogled ran through his head. He pinned you to the mattress as his hips snapped against you. The both of you, shouting every time his tip tapped that spot.

He used both hands to smack against your supple flesh. Angel's fingers dug into your hips as he gave you one punishing stroke after another. His long digits made their way back into your mane. He tugged on it pulling you up and against his chest.

“You weren’t mad. Right, mi dulce? You just wanted to get me all worked up, yeah,” he rasped sexily. His hips circled, pushing deeper, “You ain’t gotta pick fights to get slutted out, Mami,” he groaned. His free hand crept down your belly. It slipped down, down, down until it reached your bundle of nerves.

Angel pulled out slowly until it was just the tip. His lips trailed kisses over the shell of your ear, leaving a playful nibble on the lobe.

“That’s it—ain’t it, Mami? You were in the mood to be my little slut, hm?”

Angel didn’t bother waiting for a reply. His hips surged forward, slamming his length to the hilt. The moment his tip tapped against those delicate nerves, he pinched your clit. He chuckled at the piercing scream you released. Your body trembled as his fingers circled the sensitive bud. The circles stopped once you came back down. Angel laughed again as your body went limp. He held you up, brushing hair out of your face, his kisses dusting your forehead.

“You’re alright, mi dulce. You did so good for me, mami.”

Your eyes blinked as you smiled lazily. Drunk off good sex, you slurred, “Thank you, baby,” head leaning back against his chest.

Angel's voice rasped, “Oh you think we're done? Mm-mm, mi vida. We’re just getting started. You whined feeling him pulse inside you. “Don’t whine now. Worked up was what you wanted. Now you gon’ take it. Be a good girl for me and get daddy off, yeah?” Angel's voice dropped dangerously low as he whispered, “I’m going to fill you up, and then you’re going to clean up your mess. Put that pretty mouth to use.”

Angel’s words must have replenished your energy. Your lip tucked between your teeth, as your channel spasmed around him.

“Seems like you're ready for it after all,” he replied, giving you light strokes.

Being petty came with the loveliest of benefits. Here’s to hoping this man fucks up again.

How did we like it, lovelies?! Comments and reblogs are GREATLY appreciated💖.

My Lovelies (Tagging)💓:

@darqchilddaydreamz @ravennaortiz @astoldbychae @thirtysomethinganduncensored @sunshine-flower @hornyslasher

@playgurlxoxo @cosypinky2 @thebumbqueen @tashawar

@jup1ter1nk @badgalbeyy @wbbwife @becauseimher

@phomoe @beachyserasims @tbmotw @baddieweebwaifu4

@sweetmems3 @moo-meadows @kj77 @vampkennedy

@black-bisexual-simp @cocooned-butterfly @thatbrowngruul

@booksandlatenights @jayblackpanther @percosim

@glimmerglittergirl @yoshiluvs @diamoniquehayes

@joysmiled @mickeyme7 @lovearynacemn @cjricks98

@alika-4466 @hope4rain19 @bl00dr3gin @3xclusivemariii

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@missbee1095 @thebaileybugle @tbugger01 @gabbywontlose

@buttershea07 @joyfulfxckery @starrynite7114 @niaaalovesficton

@nightlywords7 @introvertllux @ticosas @chxrryp0p

@olyvoyl

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cloveroctobers · 2 years ago

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DECEMBER DRABBLES — 3. Ez Reyes 🌨️

A|N: Although it’s looking like a rough start for my winter prompts this year…I’m still at it and I have to be if I’m inspired to before the energy runs out! Anyways…this may count as a drabble? I love writing fluff for EZ although that man is clearly on a dark path in this point in time. Regardless I instantly saw this one on the prompt list that I’m following and thought, “Ezekiel MFKIN Reyes!”

S/N: + GIF belongs to its rightful owner, I couldn’t exactly pinpoint who created it on google 💚 + touching on the problem of hair in the black community.

PROMPT: #17. “Have you seen my gloves? Seriously? Take them off the dog.”

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You were not off to a good start this morning.

This could be blamed on many aspects that occurred last night…the main one being binge-watching Abbott Elementary (and Sweet Life) was part of it but if anybody asked you, you’d deny it.

It was easy for you to sleep through your ten alarms but having a husband like Ezekiel Lorenzo Reyes, who enjoyed being up at the crack of ass! wouldn’t let you sleep through the fifth alarm.

He was the morning person in the marriage and you were the late-morning person, which is why you slightly thought about changing your hours. You had a successful hair salon business that you shared with your god-brother about half a hour outside of Santo Padre. The work was time-consuming but you enjoyed the idea of perfecting people’s crowns.

You happened to be one of the few accommodating hair stylists out there, having a gentle approach to the tender headed, coming in early and staying late for certain clients if needed. Being pretty fair you did not over-charge for hairstyles like these new hair stylists on the scene often did and took the time to perfect your craft. Doing hair started young for you; the love for hair and tending to your own was the beginning of a eye-opening journey once many salons made you feel demeaned about your texture.

From begging your mom to not drag you to the salons at the age of six to learning what best works for your texture at ten was a whole new awakening for you. Your mother couldn’t do a thing with your hair and wanted it to be relaxed (just like her own) since she wouldn’t take the time or knew how to best manage it. The moment she relaxed your hair, your grandfather let her have it, shockingly. Normally most men stayed out of women’s business (if they knew what was good for them) especially when it came to hair. Your grandfather became a single father having to raise your mother all on his own, after your grandmother passed with kidney disease when your mother was fifteen.

You learned that your grandfather knew how to tend to your mother’s hair—this was something your mother did not want to share. He told you that he tried his best to encourage your mother to love what grew from her scalp just like his wife did. You’ve seen many pictures of your grandmother who always sported a gorgeous fro in every photo.

The photo you adored the most was a picture of her in her wedding dress, looking over her shoulder, light in her eyes, and a forget me not tucked into her fro.

It was beautiful how carefree she seemed, a smile always on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. That’s how you wanted to be, not only in life but with the hair on your head as well.

There were many times that you wished you got the chance to meet your grandmother. Both of your grandparents were also involved in the civil rights movement and your grandfather seemed to be the only person that didn’t mind sharing his story. You were thankful since it seemed like any conversation that you wanted to have was deemed as you talking back—words by your mother, which was a issue.

It was evident that there were deep-rooted problems with your mother that she wasn’t ready to address yet. You tried your hardest to be empathetic but also realized, thanks to your therapist, that it isn’t only your job to connect with your mother. You were healing from your own childhood trauma that she was part of and you didn’t hate her but distance was needed. Love shouldn’t be heavy, especially when it came to the woman that once held you in her womb.

And so you dealt with her verbal abuse as a kid until spending summers in Georgia with your grandfather gave you purpose. You had the idea with your grandfather at just eleven years old to cut your damaged hair off. Your grandfather did the honors of buzzing the rest off for you in the pink tile bathroom and the twinkle that appeared in your eye afterwards…matched his late wife’s.

That moment was kept a secret during your two month stay and you actually did some heads for the very first time for kids on the cul- de-sac. Your grandfather witnessed this with pride and even took you to a salon where you met a woman named Carlotta. She was welcoming and encouraging after learning that you worked on two kid’s heads that came to see her occasionally. Carlotta even let you work in the shop twice a week during your stay and once you started working on a few adults heads (a choice you did on your own after she was dealing with her own personal issues) at eleven years old? She told you had a gift and you knew your purpose.

Now you were running late to the shop, knowing you were pushing it by the time you were fumbling with your hair in the bathroom. The change in weather was making your hair dry and it was time that you did a hair mask soon. You knew your god-brother would give you a mouth-full if you didn’t take care of it before he did your first wig-install in two weeks.

Adding the right amount of oil to your hair and scalp, you combed, brushed, and decided to slick your hair into a Sade braid for the day, adding some elastics to sections of the braid to make it more fun. Once satisfied, you checked the time again as you got back into the bedroom, thankful that EZ made the bed for you and scrambled to grab your earmuffs and bag.

Your first appointment was at 8:45am and you already knew you were going to be somewhat late. Thankfully this appointment was a simple rod-set and wouldn’t take too much time to get your client done. Thudding down the steps of your bungalow, you heard your stomach rumbling and figured you’d just have to UberEATS breakfast to the shop.

Sitting on the bench, you shoved your feet into your trainers then reached for your black trench coat to place over your clothes for the workday.

“Hey. I know you’re not leaving without this.” Ez called out to you, most likely from the dining room.

Sending out a text to your god-brother, you slipped your bag onto your shoulder slightly jogging back to the dining room where your husband sat comfortably at the head of the table. Of course he looked amazing so early in the morning, snug long sleeve white-thermal shirt on, decorated with his tags and grey sweats on and his skin? We loved a moisturized king! He most likely got his pre-workout done already if he was having tea and oatmeal. Usually he only sat down for breakfast if he worked out already and didn’t need to be at the club until later that morning.

EZ looked up from his phone, his hand already held out your YETI which was filled with orange juice. “No coffee and heavy breakfast while you’re on the road. We both know how that doesn’t agree with your system. I already slipped a protein bar into your bag while you were in the shower and the real breakfast should be there by the time you get to the shop.”

“You’re a good man,” you cooed gripping Ez’s chin, his facial hair pricking your fingertips as you connected your lips.

Ez laughed into the kiss after a couple of pecks, “eh, depends who you ask mi amor.”

“I’m not asking anybody anything,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders, “I know my man.”

“Period, uh.” Ez slipped his hands beneath your trench coat to give your backside in your cozy sweats a nice squeeze.

Pointing at the man you said, “don’t ever do that again.”

Ez smiled up at you, “i promise I won’t. Have a good day sweetheart, let me know when you get there.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You kissed his lips again which made him lick his own.

“Mm, is that a brown sugar chapstick?”

“I have no idea. I just snatched whatever was in the night stand.” You breathed, stepping back from the man who simply nodded his head in understanding, “you heading to the club soon?”

“‘Round eleven or after. Gonna take Sally for a walk, nap and then head out,” EZ answered as he picked up his mug, “it’s your late day right?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “last client is coming in at five. Pray for me.”

“Always do.” Ez grinned, “I love when you do the braid by the way, allows me to see that prettiness in full.”

Having a good gulp of OJ you held out your hand to EZ, your wedding ring glistening in the dining room, which made him smile with fulfillment as he awaited your feedback, “keep treating me well and I might mess around and get pregnant with a real baby instead of a fur baby by new year’s.”

“Please tempt me with a good time.” Ez mentioned, sending a wink your way, making you groan and throw your head back.

Stomping out you yelled, “Bye, Ezekiel!”

“See you later!” Ez chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to his phone once you were out of his sight.

Thankful to have not only a loving husband and a automatic starter, that you forgot to start before Ez called you into the dining room, you flinched as your hands rested on the steering wheel. Immediately your hands went to mess with the knobs to crank the heat up, shaking your head at the brawny man for messing with the temperature in the car.

He was warm blooded and you were always cold. It was a whole debate inside of the house but in the car, you did not comprise despite the increase of gas prices. You couldn’t stand being cold and EZ knew that.

Checking the time again on the dashboard, you searched your glove department for your gloves, then the console, the backseat pockets, and the side holders in the doors but couldn’t find them. Sighing you threw the driver’s side door open again, allowing the winter air to bite at your cheeks as you jogged around your car and back to your home.

You just knew your gloves had to be on the bench and you previously overlooked them. Unlocking the door, which took a little bit of a tussle thanks to the cold, you made a mental note (that you would probably forget during the day) that you or EZ needed to use the WD-40 so neither of you didn’t experience a broken key again this winter.

Zoning in on the bench in the entry way, your eyes scanned the object and then you crouched down to the cubbies, feeling around for the gloves just to not locate them.

“Ez,” you called out, “have you seen my gloves? The Prada ones?”

Lifting your head, you spotted EZ standing down the hallway, your eyes shifting to Sally, your pitbull who had her paws resting up on his thighs, “Seriously? Take them off Sally.”

EZ smiled sheepishly at you as Sally peered over at you in annoyance. It was evident that your girl was sick of his mess too. He was a typical dog dad, taking the girl everywhere he could when he had the car, if you weren’t in the passenger seat you can only guess who was and forcing her into costumes when it was clear she didn’t care to be dressed up. He simply liked bothering your teenage fur baby, that’s all.

“I thought you’d be gone already and wouldn’t mind letting Sally borrow them on our walk,” Ez told you, while you stepped forward and held out your hands for the item.

Sighing Ez took them off Sally’s paws, who dropped them back to the wood floor and sat, watching the exchange.

“You got lucky this time, girl.” Ez pointed at Sally who just blinked and looked over at you.

“I know, he’s a real pain in the ass and if I had the time, I’d beat him up for you.” You told Sally who wagged her tail in response.

Ez huffed as he leaned over, slapping the gloves into your outstretched hands, “I just wanted to have a trial run with her since,” He whispered to you, “I got her some mitts for Christmas to protect her paws for our daily jogs and walks.”

“She’s not gonna wear them,” you shoved your hands into the gloves, “you know Sally trots to her own drum. She might even think they’re chew toys; you saw what she did to those Halloween costumes two months ago.”

Ez stretched at his brow, “have a little faith please. Maybe her favorite holiday is Christmas and she’ll be on her best behavior. We haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Her favorite holiday is sleeping and chewing shit up, then acting like she didn’t do it. It requires minimum effort on her part.”

Sally growled a bit before barking.

“I think you struck a nerve,” Ez joked, “and you might want to keep those gloves in the car if you know what’s good for you.”

Fanning your gloved hands at the two you spun on your heels, “On that note, I’m outta here. love you two, be good.”

“We love you too but…no promises.” Ez murmured as he smiled at your retreating form that began closing the front door, now putting a leash on Sally and giving her a good pet.

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Continue along with my December anthology prompts here.

#mayans mc fx #Mayans mc #mayans mc s4 #mayans mc x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes #jd pardo #december prompts #winter prompts #queued #Spotify

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ingeniousmindoftune · 2 years ago

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I’m writing all day today. My vacation from work started yesterday. I’m down sick but I’m working on some stories, new ones. Not too much updating old ones because I really don’t see some stories getting attention.

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appropriate-writers-name · 3 years ago

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Netflix and Chill

Ezekiel "Ez" Reyes x black/poc reader

Warnings: Fingering, bodily fluids, sprinkles of Soft!Dom Ez, slighty submissive reader, some praise kink

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Hello, it is I, your local writer that has only written like 4 things in the span of like a whole year. I know I make empty promises, saying that I'll be posting soon and never do, but alas, I've made good on this one, AND it's a long one lmao. If you've stuck around this long, here you go, an offering of my mediocre work. Yes, the self-deprecation is an attempt to gain many complements that I will secretly feed off of as I openly reject every last one of them—blame it on my sag moon lol.

Anyways, as always I've written something completely self indulgent with my husband Ez Reyes, so please enjoy.

You can check out more of my works on my Masterlist and join my Taglist!

As they shuffled out, goodbyes and thank yous filled your home, reaffirming that your cookout was a hit today. You could feel Ez behind you, saying his farewells to his brothers and friends too, his body close but not touching yours; that seemed to be the nature of your budding relationship—close, but never really touching. You turn to him as the last few shuffle out, feeling his breath on your skin as you turn your head.

"Do you want to stay a bit longer?" It would only be the third time the two of you were truly alone with just each other; the first time was at your home when you cooked him dinner, the second at his trailer when he attempted to cook you dinner, and now again at your home. Your question was soft and full of hope, the nerves in your tummy always present whenever you spoke with the man that seems to steal the breath from your lungs with just a smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that," a mirroring smile spreads on your face as you see his signature charming grin. You can barely maintain eye contact, turning back to your exiting guests. The butterflies in your tummy turn into full on tornados at the thought of getting to spend more time with him—especially alone.

Ez was beyond dreamy, quite addicting if you were honest. You had two degrees from prestigious schools, owned your own home (with a pool, no less), owned a luxury car, paid your own bills, worked as an entrepreneur with a successful all-female business—the quite literal definition of a strong independent woman—and yet here this man you've known for a mere six weeks can reduce such a woman to a lovesick 13 year old girl with just his presence. Each day you awaited that natural comfort to replace the giddy nerves that you felt with him, but with the way Ez made a game of seeing how many times he could make your face flush and turn away with a lip biting smile, you're sure that day will never come.

He lived for it: the heating of your flesh, the slight reddish tint that would creep up your brown skin, the shy smile pulling on your lips that you try to stop with a sexy lip bite, the way you look at either your hands or honestly anything that isn't him. He loved the effect he had on you, and he was sure if you weren't so consumed with your own thoughts and feelings, you'd see that you held the same power over him, if not stronger.

As you close and lock the door, you rest your back against it for a second, a loud sigh escaping your lips as the end of the night starts to dawn on you. You open your eyes to see Ez leaning against the adjacent wall. You maintain eye contact for a moment, following the magnetic pull to him with a smile to match his. You stand close to him, body almost brushing his as you will yourself to maintain eye contact, his arm finally pulling you in for that last inch. Your hands go to his broad shoulders, finally touching him how you wanted to all day, his first move helping you make yours.

"Today was nice, I loved meeting all of your friends." You smile up at him, your fingers settling on the back of his neck, nails scratching at the low faded hair there.

"I liked meeting your friends too. And everyone loved you, especially Pop. He's like Angel, they're not good with people, so that's a good thing." A proud smile pulls at your lips at the thought of his father approving of you. You haven’t spent any one on one time with his family yet, but today was a nice way to break the ice. You went out of your way to interact with the older gentleman, not wanting him to feel outcasted amongst the younger crowd.

"I need to shower, the smell of chlorine is giving me a headache," your face scrunches for emphasis. "I'll be back in a bit, and then we can watch a movie and hang out, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good. I think I'll take one too, does it matter which guest room?" You shake your head, telling him to take his pick. You reluctantly pull away from him, having spent all day seemingly apart from him and now you have to add on an extra 25 minutes, it seemed criminal. You move towards your bedroom, willing yourself to not turn around for another glance at him; acutely aware of the rate of your breathing and the speed of your steps, not wanting to start skipping with glee.

Your mission in the bathroom is steadfast, wanting to be quick and efficient so that you can be back out with Ez as soon as possible. Usually after a long day, a thoroughly hot shower would be in order, maybe even a relaxing bath. You sigh at the fact that you need to wash your hair, feeling annoyed with your curls and the fact that it's going to set you back time wise as you try to detangle. After dealing with your hair as quickly as you could, you scrubbed away the chlorine and sweat of the day, the smell of peaches filling the room instead.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you make your way out to the bedroom grabbing a bottle of whipped shea butter, giving it an agitated shake to get the thick moisturizing cream out. Everything seemed to take forever, as if the universe wanted to steal all of your time with him. You do your best to apply the lotion, knowing you missed a few spots in the process, putting on a shirt and sleep shorts as you hurry to the bathroom. You pull the t-shirt off your head to let the damp hair fall out, trying to decide what the best way to get your hair under control in the least amount of time would be. You decide two braids on either side of your head would be best, grabbing your wide tooth comb and some leave-in conditioner.

After a battle with your hair, impatiently brushing your teeth, and double checking you applied deodorant, you eagerly make your way out to the living room. A freshly showered Ez was sitting on the couch, a white beater adorning his large torso, his silver chain on perfect display, grey basketball shorts covering his thick thighs, his socked feet in a pair of black slides to complete the look. He was scrolling on his phone, occupying himself and you couldn't help but stare at him for as long as you could before he looked up. You played with the edge of your shirt, shyly smiling at him, this being the first time he had seen you so dressed down in your pajamas. He stands up, meeting you halfway in the open layout of your home, his arm reaching for your waist as his other hand runs down the length of one of your braids. Your hands take advantage of his exposed biceps, running your smaller hand up and down the firm muscles. With your chest pressed against his, you remember suddenly that you didn't put on a bra, your breasts only covered by the material of the graphic T. You flush at the realization, pulling away quickly.

"Movie?" You distract from your awkward behavior, moving towards the couch without a response from him. You grab the loop hanging towards the bottom of the couch, giving it a tug as the couch expands to a full sized bed. You crawl onto the bed to the far corner, grabbing a blanket from the storage ottoman that was over there, rearranging the half-dozen large decorative pillows that usually settle on the couch to fill out the space.

While you were busy setting up the couch, Ez couldn't help but take in your figure. You didn't often wear shorts, opting for long summer dresses in the Santo Padre heat, so he couldn't help but stare at the soft supple skin of your legs. As you crawled on the bed, he had gotten a great view of your ass, the sleep shorts no match for the fleshy mounds almost swallowing the material. You were hypnotic, so unaware of the effect you had on him, stirring something deep within. His eyes follow your body movements, the frustrated huffs you let out not lost on his ears, the sounds only fueling the fire of his desire.

With a final fluff of a pillow, you turn around, settling down in a kneeling position as you adjust your shirt. You look at the amused look on his face, a slight smirk on his face as you roll your eyes, informing him that the set up was a lot harder than you made it look. He chuckles as he stalks over to you, his large body crawling on the bed towards the corner you were tucked into. You boldly open your arms to him, silently instructing him of what you wanted, as you untuck your legs and spread them slightly for him to settle between them. Maybe it was the look on his face, but something had changed the atmosphere of the night; no longer was it shy and awkward, but now it was comfortable with some underlying romantic tension.

He comes to settle in your chest, the large man weighing much more than you anticipated, but you welcomed the heavy weight. At the angle you were both at, you could both see the TV as you reached for the universal remote, dimming the lights and pressing play on The Lion King. Your hands went to the back of his head, a place they always seemed drawn to. His hands rested on your waist, his fingers kneading the plush flesh there over the fabric. You try not to be distinctly aware that you don't have a bra on, your soft breasts just pressed against him.

"Is it silly to say I missed you today? Like, even though we pretty much had the day together?" You break the silence after half the movie. The two of you had just been enjoying each other's company, small remarks being made here and there, but minimal talking. The two of you were fairly exhausted from the events of the day, so it was nice to just cuddle on the couch with the movie to unwind.

"It's not silly," he adjusts his head on your chest to look at you, "you spent the day running around playing hostess, we were together all day, but barely together." His tone is teasing, his long fingers poking your side for emphasis, pulling a light giggle from your lips. Several times he had asked you to come sit and relax, but there was so much to do between refilling the coolers with beers and juices, rotating the empty serving platters with back ups, making sure whoever was on the grill at the time had whatever they needed, cleaning up as you went along so there wasn't too much of a mess at the end, and finally bringing out the assorted desserts you had made. You had refused to allow Steve to be a prospect in your home, wanting him to feel like a guest as you took on the tasks yourself. You didn't mind, you loved hosting, everyone enjoying themselves brought joy to you. You did make an effort to spend time with everyone once things settled down. Some of the guys had taken up chores of cleaning, while some of the ladies took up chores of putting the food and drinks away. It was kind of them to not leave you with party take-down duty, leaving your house as clean as it was before everything had started this morning.

"Well in that case, I missed you today, Ez." Your voice is a quiet whisper, the light hearted air of the night changing at your admission. It had been six weeks of what was considered dating, but what you considered a circling dance around each other and your feelings. You had had your heart broken a few times, the culprit seemingly to be moving too fast, so when you told Ez you wanted to go slow and he was more than okay with it, you found yourself annoyed by the slowness. You had big feelings locked away and every time you saw him, you wanted to just explode, to tell him everything on your mind and in your heart, but you reminded yourself that the decision to go slow was for both of your benefit.

"I missed you too today," his response, though could realistically be expected, still made your heart skip. Ez never made you feel like the relationship was one sided, he never left you guessing if he felt the same way as you, but everytime he admitted it, it caught your heart off guard. He lifted himself up slightly, his weight now mostly on his arm sunken between the pillows. His eyes glow under the light of the bright flat-screen TV, the intimate scene playing of Nala and Simba only adding to the sensual atmosphere that began swirling between you and Ez—Can You Feel The Love Tonight playing right on cue.

Your hand reaches for his cheek, your knee hooking around his hip as you pull him down to kiss you. The kiss was gentle, his soft lips pressing to yours in a long awaited kiss, your lips molding together with the lightest of pressure. The two of you had kissed before, usually the moments were short lived as you were both in the presence of other people, but in the moments when it had just been the two of you, you had relished in the uninterrupted time.

You feel his tongue brush the seam of your lips, gladly opening them to meet his tongue with your own. His hand on your waist had moved down to your hip, fingers slipping under the fabric tentatively before moving his palm against the hot skin there. You pull him closer to you, the two of you so lost in the kiss as your hips moved on their own accord, brushing up against his. A moan escapes you at the needed friction, before your eyes open wide and you pull away.

"I- I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I- I don't want to rush anything." Your face is hot, this time from embarrassment, as you direct your eyes to look at anything but his, finally settling on the chain hanging from around his neck.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, we're not rushing anything." He brushes his nose against yours in an attempt to regain your eye contact, his voice is deep, kind, and reassuring, but even then you still keep your eyes closed. "It's been a long day, let me make you feel good, hermosa. Let me take care of you." His fingers on your waist move to trace the band of your shorts. "Is that okay?" His nose is still brushing yours, light grazes of his lips around your face distract you as your breathing increases, your fingers on his shoulders dig in slightly at all the sensations.

A dull snap of fabric at your hip breaks your trance, your eyes opening to meet the amused look on his face. He was so close, so beautiful, so gentle, so careful, so considerate, so soft, so sweet—there was no way you could say no, you wanted him. His deep expressive eyes beckoned you to trust him, to open yourself up to him further—and you did just that. Adjusting yourself beneath him, opening your legs up to him, one on each side of his wide body as you meet his eyes with the slightest head nod.

"Words, baby," you could have sworn your heart was going to give out then and there with the use of the pet-name. There was barely any space between the two of you, his nose brushing yours, his lips pressing teasing kisses to your cheeks, his voice thick like honey pouring over your body, his large form lowered to just touching yours, not nearly as much pressure as you would like.

"Yes, Ez," is all you can say, praying that was enough for him to do whatever he had planned. The hypnotized look on your face would have been enough for him to have mercy on you, but tonight he wanted to push you just a bit further.

"Yes what, baby?" His smirk broadens as he watches a frustrated look form on your face. You whine his name, causing a shiver to run down his spine, his control over his body weakening at the small voice. He doesn't want to give in just yet, but the way you pout your lips, the bottom one jutting out making him want to lick and bite it, the soft huff sound that escapes you as you exhale loudly, your chest grazing his with the action, your eyes silently begging him to take care of your body—it all drove him crazy, but he wasn't going to let you know that. A vibrating chuckle from his chest against yours is enough for your desire to finally let go of whatever ego you had left.

"Touch me, baby." The seductive purr of your voice, the usage of the word that seemed to be his weapon of choice for the night, the firm rub of your hips against his, the scratching of your nails on the nape of his neck, it was all enough for him to give in to what you wanted. His lips attach to your neck, his hand gripping your hip as he ground himself into your aching core. The loud moan escaping you in response to his own groan spurs him on further, his hips leaving yours, as his hand slowly moves under the fabric of your shorts. His lithe fingers travel down your navel, his fingers molding against the curved mound at the apex of your thighs, his middle finger brushing through the slick folds. He groans at the hot wetness there, his hand firm in cupping the tingling skin. You moan, pulling his head from your neck to bring his lips back to yours.

His hand softly begins to rub, with each back and forth movement spreading the slick moisture to further his actions. He moves his ring finger to join his middle, rubbing your sex with the two fingers between the folds. The pressure of his rough fingers against your clit elicit a loud moan from you, leaving him to take the opportunity to push his tongue into your open mouth. Though the feeling was electric, you needed more, your hips following the rhythm of his hand to apply more pressure.

Soft whimpers of his name alert him of what you want, slipping his middle finger lower to your entrance before pushing in gently. He pulls away from your lips to watch you: the flush of your skin glowing under the TV lights, the furrowing of your brow and scrunch of your nose when he hits a particular spot, the sweet noises that leave your parted lips, dark and swollen from his kisses. He takes note of the way one of your hands grabs hold of his forearm, the other gripping tightly at his bicep.

Feeling his observations on your face causes your own eyes to open, the lids hooded in ecstasy. There was something erotic about the eye contact, further spurring you on as your hand leaves his forearm and moves to the hem of your shirt. You push the fabric up slightly, your hand slipping under to palm at your heavy breast, your forefinger and thumb pinching the sensitive peak. You feel another finger at your entrance, his eyes moving from where your breast was still covered under your shirt back to yours. He slowly adds the other finger, pushing in slightly before pulling back, his eyes seeking yours for permission. You nod, feeling your eyes roll back at the full feeling of two of his fingers, the heel of his palm steadily rubbing your clit still.

"Oh, Ez," the moan of his name from your lips gains you another groan from him, his lips going to your jaw. Wet kisses are placed there, before traveling lower to the collarbone that was exposed by the t-shirt. You notice for a moment that his lips are no longer on you, feeling a tug at your shirt. You lift your head to see him take the fabric between his teeth, lifting it to expose your left breast that was firmly cupped in your hand. The cool air conditioned air of the room causes you to moan as it stimulates your heated flesh.

"Ez, please," you beg, your chest pressed forward, your fingers no longer on your nipple as you angle it towards his mouth. His hot tongue licks a stripe at your exposed breast, before taking the taut brown peak into his hungry mouth. A loud groan passes your lips as your eyes screw shut, your hand pressing his head further into your chest. You pick up the speed of your hips, hoping he would get the hint, the coil in your lower belly tight, but you needed more. He takes your cue, his fingers moving faster, his thumb now expertly replacing his palm against your clit, his teeth tugging at your pert nipple as he looks up at you with another loud groan.

"I- I'm so- so close," you manage to say, your head a complete fog, the dramatic music from the movie no match for the noises your drenched pussy makes as his fingers keep their steady fast pace. He pulls away from your chest, his forehead pressing to yours, both of your heavy breathing mixing together.

"Cum for me, baby, let go." Your eyes close shut as you try to focus on your orgasm, listening to his voice as he tells you what a good girl you are for him. Your hand returns to his forearm, gripping as hard as you can as your body tenses before feeling the familiar white hot feeling of release. You bite your lip trying to contain your cries, something Ez isn't having as he nips at your jaw, "let me hear you, y/n". You heed his instruction, letting whatever noises escape you, unashamed and fully enjoying the bliss of your orgasm.

"You're so beautiful like this,"

"I love the sounds you make,"

"I wish you could see what I see right now,"

"You did so well, cumming on my fingers like that,"

"You're so perfect,"

You allow his voice to take you to another dimension, his fingers steady in their pursuit to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible. You cry out as he over-sensitizes you, your orgasm finally settling down. His fingers are much slower now, no longer thrusting, but now just massaging your velvety walls gently causing aftershocks to overtake your body with every caress. You tug at his arm, pulling him away from your sex slowly, feeling your juices coat your skin as he pulls his hand along your naval and stomach. He continues to press kisses to your parted lips, obstructing your deep swallows of air.

His light chuckles bring you back to reality, having felt so far away, yet so close to him. Your eyes flutter open, your head that had fallen to the side catching a glimpse of the movie credits rolling, the sight slightly blurry as you blink away the tears from your intense orgasm. You turn your heavy head to look at the man who had just rocked your world. You had expected a smirk of pride to grace his features, but you only saw a look of awe. He was no longer hovering over you, but pressed to your side, his head balanced on a bent arm, while his other remained on your stomach. You felt him tug your shirt down, covering your exposed breast and giving you a slight sense of modesty—not that you cared with what you had just done with him, but it was the thought that counted.

"Ezekiel," you whispered softly, almost as if you had truly left and returned to him, you felt like you missed him—again. You pulled him down to kiss you, pouring your thank you into the kiss, not for just the physical act that just took place, but for the boundary that had just been pushed in the most delicious of ways. You're confident in your kiss, no sense of timidness or bashfulness present like there usually would be. Though this was a feature Ez liked about your relationship, loving how easy it was for him to make you a nervous wreck, he knew he would prefer you to be comfortable with him—he knew of other ways to make you flustered, and most definitely planned on using them.

Your hand presses to his shoulder as you turn to face him properly, his hand moving from your stomach to the curve of your hip and around to the plumpness of your ass. You pressed your chest to his, as you moan against his mouth at the feeling of his harsh squeezes to the fleshy mound. A wandering hand moves down his torso, making its way down to its intended destination; your hand cups the bulge in his shorts, applying the slightest amount of pressure. You hear his groan and smile, about to make your next move, but instead pull away from his lips with a confused frown when you feel him tug your hand away.

"What's wrong?" You try not to sound hurt, but you can't help it at the feeling of rejection creeping up your spine. You wanted to make him cum just as he had done for you, especially knowing that he was also turned on and hard.

"Nothing's wrong." He chuckles at your shocked expression, his calm tone defusing the slight tension now present in the air. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing soft kisses to the fingers.

"I- I want to make you feel good too," your voice is small as you confess your intentions to him, that shyness he loves resurfacing once again.

"Tonight was about you, don't worry about me." And with that, he silenced you with a dizzying kiss, your rebuttal not having the chance to be voiced. His hand on your face keeps you close as you two get lost in each other all over again.

"You need to sleep, hermosa." He says after you reluctantly pull away to release a tired yawn. The day had been long for the both of you, but the night just seemed to go by so fast.

"I don't want to." You pout, your lips chasing after his again, which he gives in to for a moment, before pulling back again.

"I'll still be here in the morning., ya know?" It's as if he had just read your mind, knowing that your reluctance with sleeping was so your time together wouldn't end. You shook your head, not caring that he would be here in the morning, you didn't want this moment to end.

Your day had started early, lots of running around, prepping, cooking, baking, shopping, and then once the cook-out had started, you felt like you were set on overdrive wanting to make sure everyone was catered to. Ez had noticed, helping as much as he could before you would scold him to go sit and enjoy himself. In your day to day, you were in charge, you were the boss, what you say goes; but now that he could be in charge in the time you spent together alone, Ez was going to use it to his advantage. He noticed the little yawns you let out during the movie, the occasional closing of your eyes for a little too long; he knew you were tired but trying to stay awake for him.

"Aren't you my good girl?" His questions, his tone gentle but stern, his eyes soft but holding you hostage nonetheless. You respond with a hurried and eager nod, feeling almost insulted that he had to ask you such a ridiculous question.

"Words, baby," there goes that damn word again. You lick your dry lips, your body alive with want all over again.

"I'm your good girl." The words leave your mouth in an almost trance-like way. You had never had any of your exes command your mind and body in the way Ez could. The way that he pulled out a certain submissive nature from you, something you don't have the capacity for as a boss everyday. You fall into this dynamic with Ez, only when it was the two of you, and like all things about Ez, it was something quite addicting.

"Then go to sleep, beautiful."

"And you'll still be here in the morning?" You're not sure where this uncertainty came from, but you needed hear his confirmation once again before you agreed to go to sleep. He chuckles lightly, his hand squeezing your waist before slipping under the fabric of your shirt. He nods his response.

"Words," you tease with a playful glint in your eyes that he matches. He presses a final kiss to your lips before pulling away.

"Yes, I'll be here in the morning."

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blackmissfrizzle · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll Take Your Man(s)- 10

Part 9

Series Masterlist

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader & EZ Reyes x black!reader

Summary: You may have chosen EZ, but that doesn’t stop you from bonding with Miguel

Warnings: Brief mention of suicide, smut, spoilers for season 3

A/N: The gif will make sense once you read 😂 Gif credit: @dannypinot

Masterlist///Taglist

The following months after your father’s death was a whirlwind. Not too long after his funeral, Miguel’s mother met her demise by her own hand. Her suicide took a big toll on him. Plus, the miscarriage that Emily had didn’t help neither.

Then there was the demise of the town. You suspected it had something to do with the club, specifically Angel and EZ, but as usual they kept you out of it. It was a war zone with the National Guard there. Their presence also put Miguel’s project for the city to the halt. Now most of the people were unemployed.

The only good things that happened was that EZ was a full patch now and you were thriving at your new job. Oh, also you and Miguel were good friends. The deaths of your parents brought you two closer.

“Hello, Mr. YLN.” Miguel set the bottle of whiskey by your father’s headstone. He avoided your lighthearted glare. “Ah, I know. The dead doesn’t need it, but I think his spirit needs it.”

“Then the grave robbers take them.” The gesture was sweet, but it was a waste of his money. “Are you making better use of your money? Like maybe seeing a therapist?”

Unlike you, he wasn’t prepared for his mother’s death. It completely wrecked him. He shaved his beard, iced Emily out. Did you mention that he was cheating on her? With that Palmao lady. He had a mountain of stress on his shoulders and he refused to seek help. Your weekly talks were his therapy.

“Nice try.” He tapped your shoulder. “My mother went to therapy and she still committed suicide. Its safe to say it’s a crock of shit.”

Nothing you could say would make him feel better. All you could do is be there for him and squeeze his hand. “Just think about it,” you tilted his chin so you could get a good look at him. “For me, okay?”

Miguel caressed your face. The only person other than Cristobal gave him solace during this time was you. If only he could have you by his side, he wouldn’t have been such a mess. “It’s because of you, I only entertain the thought. Anyway, how’s work?” He didn’t give you a chance to respond to the levity of the earlier statement.

“Great.” You took a sip of your coffee. “They’re trying to convince me to take the Kim Kardashian route.”

“You should.” School was important, but you were more than ready to be a lawyer. Miguel knew you could easily shred any lawyer on his payroll, on anyone’s payroll. “Listen, I know its unconventional, but you really should do it. I know you want to get your degree, but I think this is your best option.”

You mulled over his words. If everything had went right the first time, then you would be practicing now. Only two things worried you, 1) what if you didn’t want to practice in California, and 2) others would try to undermine you. You could easily see colleagues giving you a hard time for not going the proper route.

“I like school though.” And you really did. School and work was where you thrived at.

“No one likes school.” At least not law school. The endless sleepless nights, the stress, the research. It was not a fun time. He tilted his head as he looked at you. “But you’re not like everyone else. You’re one of a kind.”

“I try to be.” You did a little shimmy.

The two of you continued your conversation at the diner. It wasn’t the most welcoming environment, but no one dared to step towards Miguel. “You know you should continue the project.”

He held up his hand and sighed your name. This conversation was getting tiring. Perhaps the only downside of knowing you was that you had a bleeding heart. You saw a sob story everywhere, someone always needed help. That’s why you could never get out of your situation before you met him. Even if you were on your last dollar, you would give money to someone who needed it more than you.

“We wouldn’t make enough profit.”

Finally, you came prepared. You brought out your business plan. “Don’t judge this too much, I’m not a business major, but I did some research.” Hopefully, you had all your points covered. Miguel said nothing as you went over the plan. It made you more nervous, but you kept trucking through. “Yeah, I know its not as much as you would’ve made but it’s still a profit and then you gain the respect of the people. They might see you as a savior once they start making money and trust me loyalty is everything.”

All of this was beyond impressive. It was better than anything him and Emily came up with. Even if stress and grief didn’t plague them, they couldn’t come up with this plan or they wouldn’t even consider it. At the beginning they wouldn’t see that much profit, but over time they would. Santo Padre could be so much more than just a border town.

“I’ll think about it.” He remained neutral. “Hey, you did good. I gotta watch my back.” He laughed to change your pout.

“Thanks. I should go. I gotta cook food for the club.” They all have gone a little bit feral. Bishop had a Duck Dynasty in training beard. With the tunnels closed off, beef with other charters, and Coco was going through his own stuff, the guys weren’t taking care of themselves.

Miguel escorted you to your car and kissed the crown of your head. “You can’t do everything, Superwoman. Slow down or I’ll pay a visit to Ezekiel.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you waved him off. “I’ll be fine. Be safe and make sure you wrap it up when you meet with Paloma.”

Miguel pulled his shades on and laughed. “Yeah, you still haven’t learned to use that filter.”

“Nope.” You copied his laugh and got into your car and drove off.

The guys were at the clubhouse by the time you got there. They were already going hard at the drinks. “Don’t you think you should slow down?” You took Bishop’s beer and replaced it with a water.

“Its because I love you that I didn’t break your hand, but if you don’t give me my beer back I will hurt your feelings.”

“Awww,” you tickled his beard. “Someone is hangry.” You kissed his cheek. “Eat first. You can’t run a motorcycle gang when you’re not taking care of yourself.”

Bishop couldn’t help but smile. Now of days, you were the only thing that made him smile. Thank god, you chose Boy Scout. “Then tell your boyfriend and his brother to stop getting into fights with soldiers.”

“They did what?!” Just then the two culprits walked in.

“Hey baby.” EZ opened his arms to hug you, but you slapped him on the back of his head. “What was that for?”

“Why are you getting into fights with soldiers?”

Angel sensed that it was time to dip before he got into trouble as well. “Get back here old man Reyes. You’re in trouble too.”

When you Angel spilled that Coco and Gilly were involved, you fussed at them too. The reprimand only stopped when you were reminded that you had to feed the guys.

You made sure everyone was fed before you made yourself a plate. EZ guided you to his RV, since you two didn’t see each other this morning and needed the alone time.

“Okay, we’ll go to Target sometime this week.” EZ laughed, while rubbing your leg. It never failed that you teased him about his lack of decorations and utensils in his RV. According to you, even if he didn’t have a traditional home, he needed to make it as comfortable as possible.

Running your fingers through his close cropped hair, you assured him it wouldn’t be that bad. After all, you couldn’t buy too many things, or it would overcrowd the place.

Easily, the two of you fell into the typical conversation of each other’s day. Usually, you tried to gloss over your days with Miguel, but something about today really bothered you. “Its like he’s one step from becoming unhinged. He hasn’t done anything with the club?”

EZ had to do his best not to tense up, because you would notice and he couldn’t bother telling you anymore lies. Dita’s death didn’t necessarily haunt him, but the consequences did. He should’ve known better that you would keep constant contact with Miguel. However, there was no way to stop it even if he wanted to.

Although, him and Angel were careful he was scared that Miguel would find out and take out revenge on you. Working with Big Bird made him paranoid. Then add in the updates you gave about Miguel, he was on high alert. Plus, that family was freaking nuts anyway. You didn’t need to be over there, but there was no way to tell you without revealing this secret.

“Nah, but maybe you should stop hanging around him if he’s that unhinged.”

Voice of reason or jealousy? Sometimes you couldn’t tell with Ezekiel. “He needs me. He needs someone with common sense, since his wife can’t- oh my god!” How could you forget the chisme. “Did I tell you he’s cheating on Emily? Like he’s having a full blown affair.”

That got you two talking. Your big, buff macho boyfriend doesn’t like to admit that he loves gossip, but he’s the first one asking for updates. Like the office love triangle that is going on at work, he’s always asking you if anything popped off that day.

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” You absentmindedly massaged his scalp. “I thought you hated cheaters? You didn’t go on your man ain’t shit rant on him?”

You dug a knuckle into his rib. “For your information, I did! I tell him each time to quit his shit, even though I don’t like she who shall not be named.”

EZ busted out laughing. You treated Emily like she was the damn plague. “She’s not Voldermort, you know.”

You tapped your chin. “You’re right. She’s that bitch everyone hates. The one in the pink outfit.”

EZ watched in amusement as you tried to figure out that character’s name. However, that amusement turned into horiness per usual. He would find you adorable then boom hardon. Sure did make things difficult when y’all were out in public.

“And oh poor Snape is dead now. I should rewatch those movies cause he’s a whole mo-, EZEKIEL!” There was a welcomed invasion in the form of EZ’s fingers in your core.

“Yes?” He nibbled on your neck.

“Did you get turned on by Snape?” Your giggle soon transformed into another moan.

That was music to his ears. That little attitude changed as soon as he applied pressure. “Baby that mouth is gonna get you in trouble one day.” His tongue explored your mouth. He loved how you couldn’t battle for dominance properly. You were subjected to his will.

“Ezekiel,” you gasped when he finally let you up for air. “If you can’t handle it, just say that.” Yeah, you still talked shit even you were clearly losing. You liked to call it one of your more admirable traits.

In a flash, your head was hanging off the edge of the bed. It was a real shame your view was distorted, because you loved seeing EZ in his full dominant energy. Your vision was inverted, so it wasn’t terrible but your brain wasn’t working properly for you to take it all in.

“Open up.” EZ hooked his thumb in your mouth and shoved his dick in.

This should be illegal. How did each time feel like a new experience? Ezekiel brought you to a higher plane each time.

“My pretty little whore.” His hands found their way around your throat.

EZ got lost in you, maybe too lost. The past few days started to come up. Soon he wasn’t choking you, instead he was holding down that punk he was fighting the other night. Luckily when he looked down your eyes snapped him out of it. “Mi gracia salvadora,” (My saving grace)

“Humm?”

EZ rubbed your cheek. “You’re my saving grace.” He pulled out and kneeled beside you. Couldn’t be romantic when you have your dick stuck down someone’s throat. “You.” He stroke back your hair. “You make me believe I’m a good person.”

Stopping his hand from smoothing back your hair, you grabbed his wrist and kissed the inside of his hand. You could tell he needed to be grounded in reality, in this moment. “Why do you say that baby?”

“Because God wouldn’t give me you if I wasn’t. I guess I’m not as horrible as I believe.”

You sat up and cupped his cheeks. “Ezekiel Reyes you are not a horrible person. And trust me God is most likely punishing you with me. I am not for the weak.”

EZ smacked his lips. “You ain’t lying there.”

If this wasn’t such an intimate moment, you would’ve slapped him. “You’re lucky I’m in a nice mood.” You continued on about how great of a person he was. Of course, he did some bad things. He was in an outlaw motorcycle gang, they’re very existence is going against the grain. But to his core, to his true self, Ezekiel Reyes is a good man and you’ll remind him of that every day if you have to.

“Okay, well this good man,” He crawled on top of you, pushing you against the headboard. “Is about to do very bad things to you.”

“Well you won’t get any complaints from me.”

Your laughter brought peace to EZ. As long as he had you, he had no worries. But unfortunately for him, those misdeeds were coming back to bite him in the ass.

On the other side of town, Miguel sat in his dark office with papers strewn everywhere and a drink in his hand. Something was wrong. Miguel could feel it in his bones. Dita Galindo was a proud woman. She would never commit suicide. She would never leave him or Cristobal. He would find out what happened and make whoever was responsible pay.

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