#ezekiel reyes x you

[bullet-prooflove]

Promise Me - EZ Reyes x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @anime-weeb-4-life @vannabanana1995 @multifandomloversworld @camelia35 @queeniesdiary @lilvampirina @princessghost-24 @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @oureternalbond @sclitvdes @appreciatelove @weiwei0210

It’s slow the way EZ loves you, gentle and methodical. He chases the shape of your body with large palms and heated fingertips that trail over the scars that ended your career as a dancer. His lips follow suit, brushing over the indented skin as he parts your thighs. There isn’t a part of you he doesn’t find beautiful, every mark tells a story, every blemish another chapter. He learns to read them as if they’re his favourite novel, memorising your hitched breathing and needy whimpers.

You’re a work of art, the finest poetry and the sweetest fucking thing he’s ever feasted on.

When he enters you, he feels fucking alive for the first time in almost a decade. His senses are ablaze, his synapses erupting with a thousand tiny sparks as he draws you closer. His hands are everywhere, touching, stroking, kneading, anything to keep the skin to skin contact as he makes love to you in freshly laundered sheets. He kisses you like the world is about to end, as if his life depends on it and he needs the sensation of you just to survive. He swallows down your moans and drinks in your pleasure, chasing that ecstasy until he has you on the cusp.

Desperate, wanton, for him, only for him, you tell him.

It drives him over the edge, he spills his release into you, looking into your eyes as you fall with him. It’s like tumbling over a cliff face, reckless and exhilarating all at the same time. In the moment he clutches you close, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as he tries to catch his breath. He’s overwhelmed and overwrought, there’s an ache in his chest because he knows there’s no going back after tonight. He’s so fucking in love with you, it hurts.

“Hey, hey.” You whisper against the corner of his mouth. “I’m right here with you, ok?”

He can’t speak, can’t bring himself to voice the emotions that are resonating through him. He looks at you helplessly and he knows that you see it, knows that you understand that he’s struggling, that it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

���Hey, I love you EZ.” You tell him earnestly. “That’s not going to go away anytime soon.”

“Promise me.” He murmurs against your lips, his thumb trailing over the apple of your cheek. “Promise me that you mean it when you say it.”

“I mean it darling boy,” You say, your lips ghosting over the base of his palm. “I love you Ezekiel Reyes.”

Love EZ? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[drabbles-mc]

Flashbacks

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

For Day 19 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: choking / "I'm worried about you"

Warnings: 18+, angst, mentions of violence

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: The way I just fell in love with the pain surrounding these two. Idk. I have feelings about it.

EZ Reyes Taglist: @rosieposie0624 @noz4a2 @queenbeered @choochoo284 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mijagif @withmyteeth @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @buckybarneshairpullingkink @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @nessamc @winchestershiresauce @artemiseamoon @littlekittymeow @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardburnsupersoldiers @justazzi @solidly-indulgent @danzer8705 @passionatewrites @jveudlamoula (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was impossible to wipe the image of it from your head, the way that EZ looked with his hands wrapped around the man’s neck. It put a strange ache deep into your bones ever since it happened. You couldn’t wrap your head around why it did, either. You knew it was more than capable of that kind of violence. You knew that it wasn’t the first time he had used that type of brute force against someone.  You weren’t so naïve to think that he was as deep in with the club, after all of those years spent behind bars, and that he never raised a hand to anyone. You knew better.

But watching it play out right in front of you in real time, to hear it, to see not only the face of a dying man, but also the look in EZ’s eyes as it all happened, was something completely different. That was something that you don’t think you could’ve ever truly prepared yourself for. You’d expected to see anger, rage brought on by his protective nature over you. You wouldn’t have even been surprised if there had been fear in his eyes, an air of frenzy to him because of how quickly everything unfolded, how drastic it all became.

What you hadn’t been expecting was the calmness that was radiating off of him. There was an air of routine to what he was doing that caused your entire body to lock up out of fear. You could hardly see any strain in his expression, not nearly as much discomfort as you’d expected to see.

Now that expression, that night, was all that you could see when you looked at him. Each time he reached out to touch you, hold you, you found yourself freezing up or completely pulling away. The same hands that had never been anything but loving and gentle with you now felt like they were turning your skin into scorched earth every time they landed on you.

EZ wasn’t stupid—you knew that he noticed the shift in you. What you didn’t know, though, was if he fully understood why you were so rattled. You didn’t tell him what you were thinking. How could you, really? There was no way for you to try and explain to him what was going on in your head without making you sound naïve, or worse, ungrateful for the fact that he without a doubt saved your life. So you kept your mouth shut. Whatever his assumptions were about your change in behavior, you would let him have those until you could come up with the right words to say to him.

You’d spent another night, lying awake for hours staring up at the ceiling while EZ slept peacefully on the mattress beside you. Normally he’d keep you pulled close, tucked tightly against his chest. But after the first few nights of you flinching, putting yourself as close to the edge of your half of the mattress as possible, he got the message and gave you space. He figured that once enough time had passed, and the residual panic from that night subsided, things would slowly start to shift back to normal. You wished that you felt the same way.

Unable to fall asleep, and not wanting to toss and turn and risk waking EZ up, you carefully extracted yourself from the bed and started making your way to the living room. You turned the television on but kept the volume low, just wanting the light of it to cut through the darkness more than anything else. Pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch, you slumped down and tried to make yourself as comfortable as possible.

The change in location didn’t make your sleeping endeavors more successful at all. Instead of staring at the ceiling, you found yourself staring at the TV instead, watching one infomercial after another but not retaining any of it.

When you heard the creaking of the floorboards in the hallway, you sat straight up. You squinted, trying to see through the darkness of the hall. You knew that it was probably EZ, but it felt like you couldn’t ever be sure anymore. And, with the way that things had been going, you felt like even if it was EZ, you still had to prepare yourself a bit.

Then, sure enough, EZ emerged into the blue light cast off by the television. He was rubbing at his eyes as he walked, his steps slow as he brought himself closer to you. Your heart hammered in your chest and you were desperately longing for the days when he had that effect on you but it wasn’t born out of fear.

He stood by the couch, staring down at you with a confused look. Tilting his head slightly, he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep, “You okay?”

You forced a nod, clearing your throat before saying, “Yea. Just…just couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded understandingly despite the fact that he had no real idea what was going on. “Anything I can do?”

You shook your head. “No. Just one of those nights, I think.”

He frowned for a moment before sitting down next to you, leaving a sliver of space between you on the sofa. “Seems like you’ve been having a lot of those nights lately.” He saw the way that you froze, not saying anything in response to the observation, or even looking at him. “It’s okay.”

You felt a knot forming in the back of your throat. “Is it?”

The shake in your voice made his heart feel heavy. Leaning back against the cushions behind him, he draped his arm along the back of the couch. Not quite touching you, but the best gesture of physical comfort that he could offer while still keeping a little distance between you.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

Your eyes widened slightly, giving away the fact that you knew exactly what he was talking about. Still, you tried to play dumb. “Talk about what?”

A sad but sympathetic smile quirked the edge of his lips. “It’s okay if it still bothers you.” His tone was so earnest, it almost hurt. “It was a lot. Especially when you’re not…used to it.”

Even though there was no better phrase for him to use than that, something about the prospect of getting used to it made you feel as though you were going to be sick. “It’s not…” you trailed off, not really sure where your sentence was going. “It’s not that.”

He couldn’t hide his confusion. “Then what is it?”

Your face twitched, trying to keep the tears at bay. Taking a deep breath, you finally spit it out. “I’m worried about you.”

He couldn’t stop the quiet chuckle that slipped out—it seemed so backwards given the circumstances they were currently in. “About me?” He shook his head as he gestured vaguely to himself. “I’m good, querida. Promise.”

“Are you?” the crack of emotion in your voice caught you both off-guard.

He scooted a little closer to you on the couch, still mindful of not touching you. “What’re you talking about?”

“Just…I don’t…” suddenly it became impossible to string any of your thoughts together, every word getting jammed at the base of your throat threatening to choke you. “It’s hard to believe that…I just…I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

You were surprised that he could even hear your voice as you said, “About the look on your face.”

The statement caused him to lean back. He wasn’t expecting that response. Of all the things that he thought would’ve scared you about that night, he never thought that he might’ve been one of them. He paused, trying to carefully construct his response. He didn’t want to run the risk of pushing you even farther away than he already had.

“You know why—”

“I know,” you said, your voice still quiet but a little more certain now. “I know. It was…it was him or us.”

Part of EZ wanted to say, “Him or YOU.” If keeping you safe meant burning down the rest of the world he’d do it. Disposing of one body was nothing. It was more than worth it. “Then what is it?” He couldn’t pretend that he had any idea of what was going on in your head now.

“I’ve never seen you like that, Ezekiel,” the waver came back to your voice as the mental image of it flashed across the backs of your eyelids again. “You…you weren’t even angry. You were just so cold. I don’t, I don’t know how to explain it.” You dragged your hands down your face, trying to pretend that you weren’t wiping your tears away in the process.

“I don’t feel bad about what I did,” he told you honestly.

“I know,” you said with a nod, “and I don’t, I guess I didn’t expect you to. But I just,” you covered your mouth with your hand for a moment as you tried to keep your sobs deep in your chest where they belonged, “I didn’t expect to see you like that.”

“I can’t afford to be anything else. Not when it comes to that. To keeping you safe.”

“But, but you get it, right?” It was impossible to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “You get why I can’t just…” your trailed off.

He frowned. He understood it in a way even if he didn’t like it. “So, what? What does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know,” you said, finally breaking down with a sob as you buried your face in your hands. Lifting your head enough to look him in the eye, you tried to salvage the mess you’d made for the two of you. “I know why you did it. And I’m, I’m glad you did or we’d be…But I can’t unsee that.”

“I know.”

He knew better than anyone, and for a moment you felt foolish for even saying it. You night not be able to forget this, but EZ wasn’t ever able to forget anything. It crossed your mind that maybe that’s why he was so cold about it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, more tears trickling down the sides of your face.

He reached out to brush them away but he stopped himself short. Placing his hands in his lap, he shook his head. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“It will be,” he reassured you, despite not knowing if he was actually right. He didn’t know if things between you were going to end up okay, if they would ever get back to any semblance of what they’d been before it all. But you’d stayed. You hadn’t left when it would’ve been so easy to do so. That had to count for something. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not,” he shook his head, “I’m not going anywhere.” He paused. “Are you?”

You sniffled, taking a long moment to think about your response before finally giving the tiniest shake of your head. “I don’t think so.”

Neither of you really knew where that left you, besides a few inches away from each other on the couch with no intentions of moving closer. But it had to count for something. It had to be some sort of start.

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

Your Biker in Worn Leather

Pairing: EZ Reyes x female!reader

Category: Angst/Comfort

Word count: 353

Summary: You call EZ to pick you up and his temper goes through the roof at the state you’re in.

Warnings: Mentions of cuts, scratches, and bruises

Part 2

Masterlist

Taglist

Gif is not mine. Credit to owner.

“Can you please come and get me?” Those words played on loop in EZ’s head, he couldn’t get the sound of your scared voice out of his head. You didn’t tell him what happened or if you were hurt, only where to pick you up from.

Ezekiel was quick to jump on his bike and speed to your location. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, mind racing a mile a second thinking about all the possible scenarios you could be in. By the time EZ finally found you on the side of the street, it was pouring rain and you had no rain coat or umbrella to shield you. As EZ took off his helmet and goggles, he noticed you were shaking and that’s when you immediately raced towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him for dear life, not giving him the chance to get off his bike. EZ’s arms instinctively enveloped you in a tight embrace, his hand gently rubbing your back. Neither one of you cared that you were getting drenched and could possibly end up with a cold tomorrow. You needed him, his safety, his protection, and you needed him as close as possible. EZ allowed the hug to last a few more moments. “Let’s get you dry, okay?” He spoke softly, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded against his shoulder before pulling yourself out of his arms. As you did so, EZ caught sight of the state you were in, a busted lip, bruises decorating your arms, and a red cheek. EZ’s blood boiled more and more as he saw each bruise, scratch, and cut littering your body. “Who did this to you?” He blurted out, causing you to jump at his stern tone and clenched jaw. The movement didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean to scare you. Do you know who did this to you?” He apologized before asking again, this time in a calmer tone.

You knew exactly who did this, and you knew EZ would revel in setting the score.

General Taglist: @kmc1989

EZ Reyes Taglist: @zaenight

[bumblesimagines]

"You're always so quick to defend them. What's the real reason behind your loyalty?"

"How convenient, showing up whenever they need you."

- EZ Reyes

"You're always so quick to defend them. What's the real reason behind your loyalty?"

"How convenient, showing up whenever they need you."

pronouns: they/them, gender neutral

You considered yourself to be rather laidback when it came to exes. You chose your partners carefully and deliberately, ensuring the relationship wouldn't end up being a waste of time. It's why you'd been so certain about Ezekiel Reyes.

The sweet, charismatic biker caught your eye the moment he'd sauntered into the courthouse as a prospect. He appeared humble and thoughtful, taking his duties as prospect seriously and often helping you tend to the bar whenever possible. You knew his past from the other members. A young man set on avenging his mom faced the consequences of accidentally shooting an officer. His story had been gut-wrenching and you sympathized with him.

But, as you looked through the trailer's window and watched him speak with Emily Galindo, you wondered if you had made the right choice.

"How convenient," You murmured as Ez entered the trailer and tossed his gloves aside. "Showing up whenever I need you."

"She has no idea it's your birthday, (Y/N). Don't be like that."

"Don't be like what, Ezekiel?" You snapped and he blinked, leaning back slightly at the irritated tone lacing your voice. Sally stirred beside you, a soft whine emitting from her throat. You ran your hand over her soft fur and inhaled sharply, attempting to ease your growing anger.

"Em's done nothing to you. I don't get why you hate her so much." You took another deep breath and rubbed the bridge of your nose at his words. For a guy known for his intelligence and quick-thinking, he sure was clueless when it came to his little ex.

"You're always so quick to defend her. What's the real reason behind your loyalty? Because that little blonde brat doesn't give a shit about you, Ez."

His brows knitted and a frown stretched out on his face. "Don't call her that-"

"Oh, my god." You breathlessly laughed and stood up, snatching your phone and wallet from the table. You shook your head, almost in disbelief, and faced him.

"If you want to be her little servant so badly, go for it. Don't come crying back to me when she keeps choosing her husband over you."

[ficnation]

Lying in Blood - EZ Reyes x Reader

Summary: When your husband dies you're left to mourn the life you were supposed to have. But when guilt consumes the killer, a chance at redemption opens as he steps forward to raise the child as his own.

Word count: 2,6k+

Pairing: Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Female! Reader; Past!Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x Reader

Warnings: SPOILERS for Mayans MC season 5, mayans mc typical warnings, pregnancy, pure angst

A/n: EZ might be a little OOC but who cares. Enjoy the heartbreak and please reblog if you liked it!

Main Masterlist

Mayans MC Masterlist

The moment you walk into the clubhouse, the smell of smoke and leather assaults your senses. The atmosphere is smoky, the air heavy with the cigarette fog swallowing the entire room. In the background, the clicking of pool balls and the murmur of conversations can be heard, the smell and environment already making you feel a little dizzy as the door opens and shuts behind you.

You force yourself to move forward as the members of the MC raise their glasses and nod in welcome to your arrival. You greet them with a warm smile like always, then look around the room in search of your beloved’s face. You can almost see him talking with his friends in the crowd, an unopened beer bottle in his tattooed hand.

But he’s not there. It’s just your imagination playing tricks on you.

Bishop must’ve noticed the way your eyes wander around the room in search of a ghost. He stands up from his sitting place, grabs your arm, and pulls you toward one of the couches. You slump down against it, sighing heavily.

“Querida,” he starts, sitting down beside you, his arm outstretched, beckoning you closer.

You shake your head to will the dark thoughts away, then relax against his side, your cheek finding rest on his shoulder.

“Bishop,” you greet him back with a smile.

“You’ve popped,” the man notices with a chuckle, looking down at the roundness of your protruding stomach.

“Oh, definitely. I woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and thought she doubled in there,” you mumble with a huff, but there’s a lightness to your voice.

Bishop admires your strength—how you can still see the world in colors even when your life is falling apart. It baffles him. He wishes he had that kind of strength himself.

He smiles at you, pulling you just a little bit closer. “She?” he repeats, raising his brow.

You smile brightly at him, caressing the bump with gentle, loving strokes. “Yeah, it’s a little girl.”

But your smile falters ever so lightly when you think about the fact that Neron still doesn’t know that the doctors were wrong and you were going to have a little daughter instead of a son. He won’t even be there when you give birth. He’ll still be behind bars, far away from your baby girl.

Bishop notices the change in your expression and grasps your hand in his, squeezing delicately. “He’s proud of you, you know that. We’re all proud of you.”

You can only nod in response, blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes. You weren’t as strong as they all wanted you to be. You were just about to become a mom—a single mom because your husband won’t be there for most of the baby’s early years. You’ll be lucky if he gets out when she’s a teenager.

“Yeah, just wish his child was more important than the club,” you whisper under your breath, quickly regretting your words. But Bishop looks at you with understanding, no ounce of anger on his face. “Well, I actually came here looking for EZ. Is he around?”

“He’s not around. But he should be back soon. Do you wanna wait for him?” he asks, kissing the side of your forehead. “I can get you some water and keep you company.”

You stay with him, conversing to kill time as you wait for the club’s president to turn up. The older man keeps you occupied, talking a little bit about everything—how long until the baby comes, if you need help setting up the nursery, is your money situation looking okay—Bishop asks about everything in hopes the MC can make your life a little bit easier.

An hour or two passes before Ezekiel walks into the clubhouse. He looks around the room and doesn’t expect to see you there. Your presence startles him.

His eyes stare intently as you talk with Bishop, one of your hands mindlessly caressing your protruding stomach, waiting for the baby to kick. The other man hovers his hand close, ready for you to guide it so he can feel the little kick.

EZ feels the guilt—it comes up his throat and makes him nauseous. You’ve been friends for so long, and you don’t even know just how bad of a friend he was.

He ordered the murder of your husband. He took away the father of your baby—the man you loved with your whole being. He took his life and didn’t even give a second thought to how it would affect you—how much it would ruin your life.

The baby in your stomach starts kicking, so you take Bishop’s hand and press it against it. Ezekiel still stares, but he’s too far gone in his thoughts to register what’s happening.

“She’s kicking.” Your smile is bright, and it gives him a tiny bit of hope that Neron’s death won’t make you miserable for the rest of your life.

He forces his legs to move forward, swallowing the want to throw up all over the wooden floor. With a forced nervous smile, he reaches the couch.

“Is she?” the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

You sit up straighter, surprised by his sudden appearance. The smile you give him is innocent—unknowing.

“Hi, EZ.”

He returns it, but it’s weak and awkward, and he’s sure you can feel just how out of place he felt in his own clubhouse.

“Hi.”

Bishop senses the sudden shift in the air. He gets up and presses a kiss to your cheek, his beard ticklish on your skin. He regards the younger man with suspicious eyes. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says finally as he leaves you with the club’s president, heading towards the exit of the building.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” you notice, patting the couch where Bishop once sat to beckon Ezekiel to take his place.

The man scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Yeah… I was busy with the—” he’s lost in his own words as he gestures vaguely to the clubhouse, “the thing.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, definitely,” you joke, “the thing always requires attention.”

He laughs at your words, but it has a forced quality to it. The joke isn’t that funny. You know it, and he knows it too, but you wave it off, thinking he didn’t want to make the conversation more uncomfortable than it already was by giving you the details.

“Yeah.” He sighs deeply. “We’ve got it under control, though,” he continues, and you respond with a nod, your eyes not quite meeting his.

“Have you heard anything from Neron?”

So that’s what you came here to ask—EZ thinks. It was logical. You barely needed the MC’s help, preferring to get stuff done on your own, mainly because you didn’t want to add to their problems. You always held your head high.

“He’s been quiet for a while now,” Ezekiel tenses in his seat as the words leave your mouth.

He can almost feel the crickets playing a symphony in his head. He doesn’t know what to say or do, so he opts for a simple lie—he is getting better at them with every passing day. “No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Damn it.” Your sigh clenches his heart painfully. “Those cops are probably harassing him again.”

“Probably,” he agrees with you, scratching his chin for a second as he glances at your face. “You’ve heard nothing at all?”

“Nothing. He doesn’t call anymore.” The tone of your voice changes, and he can feel the heartbreak—the agony that those words render.

EZ takes a deep breath and forces a smile. “He’ll call. I’m sure he will.” A fucking liar; that’s what he is.

“I hope so. We’re so close to the birth date. I wanted him to know that.”

He doesn’t know how to reply, so he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. He was always good at lying, but why was it so hard to lie to you?

He tries to smile more warmly—look more warmly at you, but all you can see in his eyes is pity. It drives you insane.

“EZ, is there something you’re not telling me?” your voice screams suspicion. He starts to get nervous.

“No, of course not.” He looks at you hard, hoping you’ll believe his lie. It takes a moment for you to process what you see and hear before the suspicious glint falters and falls.

“Oh, okay.” you sigh in sadness. You have a feeling he knows something, but you’re not willing to push it. “He was supposed to choose the name.”

Another gentle squeeze of your hand. “He will come through. Don’t worry.”

You believe him. “You’re right. I’m probably just overthinking.”

EZ nods his head in agreement. “You’re just stressing yourself out; it’s not worth it.” There’s a pause as he kisses your temple, then speaks again, changing the topic slightly, “How have you been doing? Everything going alright with the pregnancy?”

“Yeah, we’re doing good. The nausea went away.” His still didn’t. “Now I’m just running to the bathroom every three minutes. Girl makes me wanna piss so bad.” You let out a chuckle—such a beautiful and peaceful sound. EZ feels like he could record it and play it over and over again before he falls asleep.

“That’s good… and exhausting.” He’s starting to feel more at ease again. You seem to be distracted and not noticing how oddly nervous he’s been acting, or even if you did see, you let him have the upper hand.

“It is exhausting. But we’re gonna get through it. For Neron.”

He nods in agreement. “For Neron.”

Such a beautiful betrayal.

The next time you see EZ, a few days have passed. The whole MC knows about Neron’s death, but not you—not yet. He lets you live in a state of not knowing just for a few more minutes before he knocks on your door and gives you the information that will ruin your life. Oh, wait, he did that—he ruined it by choosing to protect himself, get rid of the snitch. Snitches end up in ditches—they were right.

He raises his fist, presses the buzzer, and he can almost hear the heavy pats of your feet as you rush toward the door. You open it and greet him with a smile. You’ve looked through the Judas beforehand—smart girl.

“EZ?” That carefree smile falters as you notice the seriousness decorating his face. Your hand grips the doorknob tighter, knuckles turning pale.

EZ sighs and hangs his head. “You need to sit down.”

“What the fuck happened?” you ask, but EZ doesn’t respond.

He turns you around, closing the door before gently pushing you towards the living room and the couch in the middle. You listen to him and sit down, waiting for him to speak. Your leg bounces up and down in worry. The dark thoughts swirling in your head make you want to crawl out of your skin.

EZ cuts straight to the point. He knows you’d only get furious if he tried to tread around the issue.

“Neron’s dead,” he says simply—as if to just get the words out of his mouth. They leave a foul taste on his tongue. He’s not even looking at you because he knows already how badly he fucked up. He can hear your heart breaking into a million pieces as your brain struggles to register that information.

When it finally hits you, you gasp trembly.

“No. No, he’s not,” you try to deny his words, shaking your head furiously. Tears are already building up in your eyes, and they’re falling down in waterfalls down your cheeks before EZ can reach to wipe them away.

“I’m so fucking sorry. It’s my fault.” He sits beside you and takes your hand, raising it to his lips. He leaves a kiss on every single tip of your fingers. “I killed him. It’s all my fucking fault.”

The sobs wreck through your body like a tsunami, and you drown beneath their intensity as you cradle your bump. You don’t even hear him. You refuse to hear him.

EZ wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pushes it to rest on his chest. He can’t look at you so broken—so destroyed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His other palm rubs your back up and down in a motion that is supposed to be soothing, but it doesn’t do shit to make it hurt less. You let him comfort you, giving into his embrace as you weep and clutch the back of his kutte in tight fists.

EZ sits that way with you for a while, rubbing your back and keeping you close. He doesn’t speak, only offers his presence and affection as comfort. He knows if he opens his mouth again, he’ll admit to what he’s done—this time for real.

“How am I supposed to go on?” You sob into his chest, your whole body trembling.

EZ just holds you tighter, his lips pressed to the crown of your head. “One day at a time.”

“I’m supposed to raise our daughter on my own? That’s so fucking cruel. Why did the world take him away from me?” your words are almost muffled as you get them out through the tears and sobs.

He looks down at you, his face etched with guilt. He’s glad your head is pressed to his chest and you can’t see it. You’d put the puzzle pieces together faster than he could mutter a single word.

He rubs his thumb back and forth between your shoulder blades. “I don’t know. But you’re strong. I know you’re strong enough to get through this.”

He puts on a facade before placing a hand under your chin and lifting it so you can look him in the eye. “I know you are.”

“No, Ezekiel, I’m not. I can’t do this,” you argue, shaking your head furiously. “I want him back,” you cry out, and it breaks his heart even more. It was his fault. He did this to you.

“I know. I know.” EZ says this over and over again, rubbing circles on your back.

He stays the night, cradling you in his arms as you sob and scream. And then he stays another night and another day keeping you company and helping with daily tasks. You don’t even realize that weeks have passed, and he’s still there when you wake up and when you go to sleep.

He’s there holding your hand when your little girl is born and when she says her first word. He never left, taking on the role of being a dad figure for your child. It felt wrong, but you never stopped him, either.

You didn’t stop him when one night his lips found peace pressed against yours and when he rolled on top of you, giving you pleasure you haven’t felt for a long while. You didn’t stop him when he moved in and became a constant presence in your baby’s life. Before you even knew it, she was calling him ‘papa.’ It made your heart clench painfully.

EZ took the opportunity and treated it as his only chance at redemption. He wanted to give you the life you wanted to have with the man he took away from you.

Sometimes the guilt was too much, and he had to leave for a few days to get it back under control. But he always came back.

He was good at lying, after all—lying with his hands covered in blood. Such a beautiful betrayal.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

It Burns Golden - An EZ/Reader/Guero One Shot Story.

SMUTTY THREESOME GOODNESS IS HERE, BESTIESSSSS!

Words - 1,687

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

It burns golden, the pleasure that streaks over your skin like a summer dawn, evoked by two mouths hungrily mapping their desire across your body. You’d gone to the clubhouse with one single-minded agenda that evening; to get laid by an outlaw.  

You did not expect to go home with two. All because you couldn’t pick between them.

“Then why choose?” the younger had stated, looking at his president with a grin. “You down?”

EZ’s smirk had widened instantly. “Absolutely.”  

Riding on the back of his bike while giving him directions to your home, you’d felt a little high with anticipation, your head fuzzy, your body light and tingly at the prospect of two men within your bed at once. Seeing them both strip off for you once they’d got there? It’s a visual you will carry with you forever. Feeling them both mutually attend to your pleasure? Well, that part has only just begun.  

Thank goodness you have an amply sized bed.  

Their mouths haven’t even encroached up erogenous areas, and yet you sizzle with the heat of a hundred suns, Guero laying licks and soft bites to your neck, EZ’s mouth kissing a smouldering path down your body, tongue circling your navel as his hands caress your thighs. You anticipate feeling the glide of his tongue to tease licks at your apex, yet it’s a different kind of tease that he has in mind.

His breath flutters warm against you, a soft lick swiping over your slit, his mouth moving to caress your inner thigh instead. He grins at your tiny whine of frustration, offering satiation by way of skimming his fingertips into the already dewy warmth of your folds. You gasp against Guero’s mouth, his hands gliding over your breasts, his tongue joining, your nipples slowly circled with heated licks.  

Your hips buck at the intrusion of two fingers sliding into the velvet clasp of your cunt, EZ sitting up to watch you enjoy it, your body slowly undulating as he moves them in a wave, each sweet spot inside of you stroked with careful precision. They twist gently, seeking out ways to light you up, your head foggy with arousal as Guero brings his mouth back to yours, his hand trailing down your body.  

When his fingertips reach your clit, your breath hitches, tummy juddering, the dark fire of his eyes burning into yours before you exchange kisses of syrupy heat once more. EZ lowers to sprinkle kisses up your side, each of your hands stroking them both, their skin a sumptuous blanket of tattooed muscles against you, mouths kissing prayers of lust over your flesh.  

The circled drag of fingertips over your clit coupled with the thorough, yet slow plunge into your slick core makes you feel as if you’re burning slow, EZ’s hand grasping your jaw as Guero’s mouth moves back to your nipple, his lips pressing to yours, kissing you with chilling heat. Your grasp at the back of his neck, melding yourself with him before he slips from you, sucking your nipple on his way back down your body.

You thrum with the pleasure of it, being touched so expertly by them both, their fingers making you feel as if moonbeams streak from the very darkest depths of you, lighting you in a way you have never been illuminated before. Guero moves his hand away, the two fingers dampened from you pushed into your mouth, watching you suck them, his big hand clasping your jaw, kissing you fiercely as EZ’s tongue finally lays wet heat where you crave it the most.  

The fever of it rushes through you, winds tight, Guero’s teeth prickling your lower lip at the exact same time EZ wraps your clit in the hot suck of his lips, making your muscles cord, your back arching off the bed. Big hands push you down, EZ holding you still, the tip of his tongue circling, nerve endings caressed with sublimity.

His thumb tugs your clit hood back, your little bud standing out more to the onslaught of his hungry, relentless mouth. The groans against you are rich and full-bodied, your hand curling around his head, nails scraping over his shaven hair, the other buried in the roots of the soft, dark locks of the man who moves to kiss you wantonly.  

They are the two dark stars who move in orbit around you, EZ’s hands gripping your thighs as you reach to your nightstand and yank the drawer open, pulling out necessary items in a long strip of condoms and a bottle of lube. The latter is put to immediate use, pumping a slick into your hand, wrapping it around Guero’s cock, biting your lip as a pleasant roll of warmth curls through you to feel his girth.  

Your free hand cups his face, kissing the groan from his lips as your hand tightens and drags, feeling his hardness bob against your grip, your thighs closing in around EZ’s face. The faint prickle of stubble rubs your skin as he eats you with aplomb, lips tight at your clit, fingers buried so deep, your slick gently trickles out over his knuckles.  

His teeth gently graze your bud, and it sends sparks skittering through you, tongue rolling over you again firmly, heat misting your spine. While EZ licks utter divinity against you, you begin to pump faster on Guero’s cock, his mouth leaving yours, his groan a bonfire of sound that roars through your blood, his teeth grazing your neck as his hips sway forward to fuck into the wet grasp of your hand.  

Pre cum seeps from him, your thumb circling the slit of his cock, his body trembling at your side, his moans a deep gravel as his chest heaves, and you begin to pull it from him, your eyes fixed upon his.

“Mmm, that’s it, gorgeous,” you encourage, hand quickening upon him, “come for me.” His mouth lands upon yours, hot, messy kisses somewhat muting the deep growl as he twitches and spills over your hand, panting against your tongue.  

“Fuck,” he grits, breathless and still trembling, your hand gentling upon him. “Fuck, you ruined me.”  

You chuckle wickedly, mouth scattering kisses down the tattooed side of his neck. “Not yet, I haven’t.” You reach for some tissues, cleaning your hand, beckoning for EZ as you sit up, pulling his mouth to yours. A quick, fluid shift in bodies has him lying back against the pillows, your mouth gliding down the splendour of his muscle ridged torso, and Guero lying beneath you on his back.  

His hands grasp your ass, pulling you down to meet his mouth, the hot wrap of pillowy heat from his lips encircling your clit, your body shivering in response. He sucks a fever at you, tongue circling, hands gliding over your back, your pussy trickling onto his tongue as he opens his mouth to drag a firm lick through your folds.  

At the same time, you run a long, slow lick up the thick vein of the very hard cock before you, taking EZ into your mouth and enveloping him in a hungry suck. He goes to speak, the word ‘fuck’ knocked out of the way by a hungry groan, his head thudding back, eyes closing tightly for a few moments, opening again to watch you taking him into your throat.  

You have him mindless from your mouth quickly, his hands tangling in your hair, your own arousal intensifying from the rapidly moving tongue against your clit. Pleasure begins to streak beneath your skin like meteors, Guero pushing his fingers into your dripping hole, pounding your insides until he has you gleaming and crying out.  

He has it bursting from you, the pleasure crackling like a forest fire, blazing over your bones as you squeak around a mouthful of cock, a long, low groan vibrating your throat, making EZ twitch against your tongue. You’re still knocked sideways by the force of your orgasm when you see Guero’s hand reach to grasp the condoms, pulling one from the strip and moving behind you.  

Anticipation creeps over your muscles, feeling him push against you, the stretch of him sending tingles through your walls. He splits you wide, fills you deep, his hands gripping your waist as he fills and empties you with long, even strokes, and god, if you could see the smile on his face at how good you feel.  

It rolls through you like a storm, Guero not remaining contained for long before he’s pounding into you savagely, forcing muted little cries from you as your mouth glides upon EZ’s cock, his abs trembling as his hands fist tight in your hair, hips rising to fuck your mouth. Their moans fill the room with the sexiest harmony of sin, your fingers pattering up his chest, pinching tightly on his nipples.

White hot pleasure glints through you, tumbling down your spine like a shooting star, Guero reaching beneath you to rub circles at your clit as his cock punches you deep, splits you wide, remakes you around him. You feel boneless between them, your nails dragging each dip and rise of EZ’s torso, your eyes finding his, hazel shining gold as you watch him ascending.  

He grits, a groan like tumbling boulders echoing through his chest as he spills into your throat, your mouth gentling on him before finally releasing him with a wet pop, your breaths hot at his hip as Guero fucks a storm of nirvana through your body, your hips pushing back against him as you cry out.  

Your voice breaks on his name, your waves flooding his shore as you come with a feral wail, his body rapidly driving against you until his cock jerks and he’s joining you, tight bliss come undone, his head resting upon your back.  

“Oh god,” you pant, EZ stroking your face, his thumb dragging your lip as you feel Guero plant kisses down your spine before he pulls from you with a little shudder. “I’m so done.”

The men both exchange a look, laughing. “No, you aren’t.”

They’re not wrong either.  

A/N - Part two? Maybe... ;)

[juancarlos-ortiz]

ok I’m rewatching Mayans and my Coco Cruz flame has been relit 😮‍💨🫠

I would love to write for him if anyone had any requests. I’m also happy to write for pretty much any of the other characters as well ❤️‍🔥

[berberriescorner]

“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

@1andonlytashae @greasemonkeydarling @hennyjwrites

@montegobaesworld @po3ticb3auty @trunichole15

@missbee1095 @thebaileybugle @tbugger01 @gabbywontlose

@buttershea07 @joyfulfxckery @starrynite7114 @niaaalovesficton

@nightlywords7 @introvertllux @ticosas @chxrryp0p

@olyvoyl

[your-space-brain]

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 —

[mushupork4u]

Reyes Brothers X Reyes Sister OC

Prompt: The boys come home late and sit on the couch with Carmen and watch TV

(Any thing in italics is Spanish)

____________________________________________

It was past twelve when Carmen heard the familiar rumble of the Harley Bikes enter the neighborhood. A tired smile turning up her face as she continued watching Narcos and fawning over Pedro Pascal.

She heard the engines cut off and before she knew it, the boys were in the kitchen. Their voices echoing quietly as they heated the left over dinner up and eventually, wandered their way into the living room.

“Why are you still up?” Angel had asked, furrow browed and tense shouldered, he plopped down on her left while Ezekiel quietly made his wave over to her right.

She shrugged her shoulder, bourbon eyes still struck open. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Ezekiel had sighed, a piece of chicken from his fajita sticking out from the corner of his mouth as he spoke. “You need melatonin gummies.”

Her quiet huff left them curious as she eyed the screen, both of them watching Javier Peña arrest someone, and their little sister enjoy it a little too much. “If you keeping looking at the TV like you wanna sleep with it, I’m gunna talk dad into throwing it out.” Ezekiel hummed, making a light hand smack at his bicep before Carmen’s head leaned to the left on Angels shoulder.

“You’re my new favorite.” She joked, allowing the older male to smile at her tired face and sunken in eyes.

Ezekiel swallowed another bite of his food before turning to look at them both. “It’s okay, I’m still the best looking.”

“Oh fuck off.” Both her and Angel grunted, and Ezekiel almost choked, because in that minute, he saw both Marisol and Felipe berating him.

The two looked at Ezekiel’s face, the slight hint of fear that they saw did not go unnoticed, but once Carmen saw that Felipe was not awake and ready to ridicule them, she sat back and continued spending the silence with her brothers.

Though the unease she felt before was gone, knowing that their bikes were outside, and they were home safe with no injuries and full bellies, it made her extremely exhausted.

Her eyes lulled into the back of her head within minutes of their last conversation, and she worried of nothing.

“She’s asleep.” Angel had whispered, and true to his word, Ezekiel looked to see that Carmen had leaned her head on the couch and passed out sitting up.

The two had shared a glance of worry, Ezekiel moving the younger girl easily enough so her head was leaned onto his thigh and her legs folded onto Angels lap. “She’s exhausted.” The younger boy stated, it was a simple fact.

Paler skin, sunken in eyes, dehydrated, not sleeping. She had been this way since he got back, and only recently had he realized it’d gotten worse as she found out he was a prospect in his brothers club.

“She’s worried?” Angel questioned, calloused hands rubbing up her shins, back and forth like a calming method.

Ezekiel looked at the TV eyes glaring into it like it was nothing. “Yeah.”

“She shouldn’t be.” Angel had sighed, his hands stopping momentarily to rub circles into her skin with his thumbs.

His younger brother only let his hand fall to Carmen’s hair, petting the soft curls away from her face. “She can’t help it. School, work, worrying about dad just to come home to us gone.” His words sink deep, guilt burrowing it’s way into Angel’s stomach as he realized Carmen got someone that understood and he ripped it right away from her.

Taking candy from a baby but he took Ezekiel from her. After he avoided her and left her alone hoping he could protect her from the club, from the parties and from the life of chaos he lived so willingly most days.

He ended up dragging her straight into it.

Poor little Carmen Reyes was alone in the world, and the only safe heaven was the couch when her brothers had returned home safe and sound.

[bullet-prooflove]

Trust Me I Know - EZ Reyes x Reader

Tagging: @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @anime-weeb-4-life @vannabanana1995 @multifandomloversworld @camelia35 @queeniesdiary @lilvampirina @princessghost-24 @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @sclitvdes

It’s late or early, depending how you look at it. The bar has been closed for a little while and you’re in the midst of the clean down. You’d been short tonight, one of your regular bartenders had called in with food poisoning.

EZ had been having a beer when the call came through and offered to lend a hand. He tended bar back at the clubhouse and had no problem stepping behind yours. He was a practised hand, the two of you worked well together, never getting in each other’s way. He was bigger than you, needed more room to move. Every time he brushed past you, you felt that familiar heat rolling off his skin. When his warm palm came to rest on your hip, you felt it searing through the fabric, you wondered what it would be like to feel his hands on your bare skin, fingertips trailing underneath your clothes.

“Can I ask you something?” EZ says as picks up the last round of glasses from one of the tables and puts them in the rack for the dishwasher. He’d stuck round to help you clean up. It was a relief to be honest. You were dead on your feet, the exhaustion creeping into your bones as you restocked the beers in the fridge.

EZ could see it a mile away, he was attuned to you, your moods, your nuances. You were limping slightly; it was barely detectable, but it was there. An old injury he thought, he’d noticed it a couple of times at the end of a long night.

“Anything.” You responded to his question, straightening up to give him your attention.

“The bar.” He said gesturing at the space around him. “That always been your thing?”

“My father’s.” You told him, breaking up the cardboard box that had held the beer before shoving it into the recycling bin. “My grandfather’s before that.”

“So, it’s in the family.” He summarised.

“I actually used to be a dancer." You tell him, and he gives you a look of surprise. "A scholarship in UCLA, studying contemporary dance, afterwards I ended up with a dance company in LA.”

“Contemporary dance?” he inquired.

“My focus was contemporary ballet, it’s a blend of classic ballet and modern dance.” You explained. “It gave me more freedom in expression, I found classical too rigid.”

There was a wistfulness when you spoke, happiness and sadness. He could tell that you enjoyed it, that dancing was a passion for you, a way of life. It’s in the way you move, there was an elegance there, a grace in your step. Even behind the bar you shifted with fluidity, with a bounce in your step. It’s like you had your own rhythm, a song he can’t hear.

“What happened?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he slipped onto a barstool alongside of you. Your knees bump together, and he notices when you don’t pull away.

“Car accident.” You tell him, your hand running over your right thigh thorough the fabric of your jeans. You can still feel the scars on either side of your thigh from the pins they’d put in and then the abscess they had had to pack. “Broke my femur, lost more than an inch.”

“Your hip.” He said suddenly, patting his pelvis on his right side. “I noticed that you suffer with it sometimes.”

“It’s the discrepancy.” You tell him. “It’s why I can’t dance anymore. The footwork in contemporary dance is intense, fast moving. I couldn’t keep up with it, so I ended up back here, running the family bar and paying off my father’s debts.”

“That can’t have been easy.”

He knows a thing or two about having your life upended, about heading in one direction, visualising a future before having it snatched away from you. His hand comes to rest on yours, his thumb tracing over the curve of your wrist.

“No, it wasn’t.” You told him with a sigh. “It was such a big part of my life, the only time I felt like myself was when I was dancing. It didn’t matter if I was having a shitty day, or if the money was tight… All of that stuff it just seemed to slip away you know? It was just me and the movement.”

He thinks he understands on some level, it’s the same way for him when he reads books. He loses himself to the literature, delves into other people’s stories. It saved his life in prison; he thinks it’s saved his life since.

“When was the last time you danced?” he asked you quietly.

You shook your head.

“I don’t even remember.”

“Ok.” He said, slipping from his bar stool and digging in his pocket for a couple of coins before inserting them into the jukebox. He scrolled through the song list before selecting one. He turned to you, holding out his hand with that smile on his face.

“Dance with me.” He requested.

“You’re serious?” You asked him, placing your hand in his.

“Yea,” he said drawing you off the stool. “You can’t be any worse than me.”

EZ’s gentle with his touches, his free hand coming to rest upon your hip as you press closer to his body. You can feel the heat rolling off his skin. He runs hot, he always has, and it sends prickles of anticipation through you as he sways in time with the music. You close your eyes as he presses his cheek to yours, the rough stubble caressing your skin as the two of you move to the rhythm. You can hear the pulse of the song in your ears, the notes igniting something inside of you, something you’ve not felt in a long time. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time, because you thought you’d lost this, the ability hear the music, the sensation of it coursing through your body. For the first time in an age you feel like you’re alive again, that the missing piece of yourself has slotted back into place.

EZ must sense the change before his eyes meet yours. They’re dark, a rich mahogany with flecks of gold around the iris, you’ve never noticed that before, never allowed yourself to. Despite how you feel about him, you’ve always tried to maintain a distance but those barriers of yours, they’re falling away. In that moment you let him see everything.

His breath hitches and he leans in close, he smells like oakmoss and bergamot, earthy and rich. It’s intoxicating, you can feel the beat of his heart against your chest before he lowers his head, his lips sweeping over yours. It’s heated and tender, the softest brush of his mouth and you’re hooked. Warmth floods through your body and you can feel yourself falling as he cradles you close, holding you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

When he breaks away, he presses his forehead to yours and for a moment you can’t speak because all you can feel is this wealth of emotion in your chest.

“I know.” He whispers, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “Trust me, I know.”

Love EZ? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[drabbles-mc]

On the Run

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, angst

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We’ll see how far we get!

Prompt: colorful

Word Count: 500

A/N: unwell about him, truly

For the longest time it felt like the only color he could see was red. In his clothes, on his hands, behind his eyelids when they were closed. It was inescapable, the blood that coated everything. There was no one to blame for it but himself, either. It was a mess of his own making.

He tried to run away from it. Days spent on the run trying to get as far away from it as possible turned into weeks. Weeks of constantly looking back over his shoulder, like he was leaving a trail of blood behind him that was going to lead them all right to him. It’d serve him right, and he knew that, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from trying to outrun fate.

But no one could run forever, not even EZ. Eventually, he got tired. Eventually, he had to find a place to land, even if it was only temporary. He did his best to lay low—a skill that he hadn’t put to good use in far too long. And he was doing well with it, too, until the day that he ran into you.

The first time he hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d noticed you, but no more than he made notice of anyone else. The interaction was over as quickly as it started, and you both went on with your days. You weren’t the first person he’d had a brief run-in since he paused, you wouldn’t end up being the last either. What you were, though, was one of the only people he was running into over and over again.

It got to a point where it felt wrong to not ask for his name. It felt worth it to have something to call him if you were going to keep passing, a little closer than ships in the night. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to give you a false one. He’d kicked himself for it all the way back to the room he was crashing in. Kicked himself for it the day after that, too. He regretted it all the way until he heard you call it out from a few yards away down the sidewalk.

He lifted his head at the sound, expecting to feel fear shoot down his spine but instead, when he saw you standing there, waving with a smile on your face as you continued towards him, he felt the knot in his gut start to loosen for the first time in months. And when you stopped in front of him with a comfortable, “Hey, Ezekiel,” it was the first time in a long time that he could remember the world being covered in more than just red.

Your hand grazed his arm and his world finally got the rest of its colors back. But all he could think as he tried to get your name out in return was how much he was going to miss it all when it was gone again.

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

Your Biker in Worn Leather Part 3

Pairing: EZ Reyes x female!reader

Category: Angst

Word count: 611

Summary: While the club puts together a plan, you have a small chat with Nestor.

Warnings: None

A/N: This part is just a filler, sorry if that’s disappointing! Action coming soon! 💥

Part 1

Part 2

Taglist

Masterlist

Gif is not mine. Credit to owner

EZ jumped off his bike, you did the same and before you knew it he was storming towards the clubhouse. You were barely able to keep up with his pace. Thankfully, he stopped for you at the door. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Until then I can’t risk leaving you alone—“

“Want me to stay with Felipe? Or do you want one of the guys watching me when you’re not around?” You assumed those were your options and that was more than fine with you. You were not comfortable being alone after that and had intentions to have this conversation anyways.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to stay by yourself again. It was such a terrifying and traumatic experience, being kidnapped and manhandled in the worse way possible to put it lightly was enough to have you scared of what could happen if the Burning Souls managed to grab you again. Especially knowing they’re after the club and revel in attacking the club’s loved ones.

“Neither. I want you with me. Those bastards aren’t taking you ever again.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and nodded. You should have known that would have been his response but it took you by surprise anyway.

EZ ushered you into the clubhouse. The guys were doing the usual — drinking, playing cards, playing pool, telling jokes and talking about past memories. All that came to a halt when the Vice President bellowed, “Templo. Now!” He didn’t wait for response, angrily entering their meeting room and taking a seat at the table. Everyone looked at you for a clue or something so they could understand Ezekiel’s anger. When their eyes landed on you, they immediately understood and hurried to their seats.

You could tell in the way they moved and how their expressions changed — they were pissed too.

You took a seat at the bar once the room emptied.

Of course, Nestor watched the whole thing go down but he was more concerned with reading your body language. Nestor slid you a water. He figured after all you just went through you needed to hydrate.

The glass clinking on the bar top caught your attention. In all honesty, you had completely forgotten about Nestor still being in the room. You eyed the glass of clear liquid. “I’m not really in the mood for alcohol.” You slid the glass back to him and he shook his head.

“It’s water. You look dehydrated. Trust me I know the look.” He slid the glass to you once more. You studied Nestor. Despite it being months since his prospecting began, it still felt weird to you seeing him in a kutte instead of a fancy outfit or suit.

“I know you’ve seen a lot of shit. So tell me, what would you be doing if you weren’t here?” You attempted to take your mind off the matter at hand plus you enjoyed Nestor’s company, despite the club’s opinion and feelings. You genuinely didn’t understand the tension between them and Nestor.

“You’re right. I have seen a lot of shit. So have you. So has everyone in this town.” Nestor paused, the wheels turning in his head. He could tell he could trust you; hell, he already did. “Literally anything else.” He cracked a smile. You couldn’t help but notice he had a nice smile, made him look relaxed. You chuckled at his little joke.

“Ain’t that the truth.” You nodded in agreement.

It was that moment that the club came flooding into the room. A thickness filled the room. You knew they had a plan, a brutal and bloody plan.

General Taglist: @kmc1989

EZ Reyes Taglist: @zaenight

[bumblesimagines]

Ez Reyes

can i buy you a drink? for old times' sake?

you were never there for me.

i don't love you anymore.

can i buy you a drink? for old times' sake?

you were never there for me.

i don't love you anymore.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, Gender Neutral!Reader

"You better not forget about us, Beverly Hills." You felt Bishop clap his hand over your shoulder, a big friendly grin stretched out across his face. You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn't help the giddy smile from spreading across your face, especially with all the supportive Mayans you viewed as uncles and brothers looking just as thrilled as your own father. 

"Well, I have to finish packing, but I'll drop by later." You told them, feeling Bishop playfully shake your shoulder before you stepped toward Riz. Your father pecked the top of your head and pinched your cheek, snickering to himself when you swatted at his wrist with a huff and an eye roll. 

"Don't stay out too late with your friends, 'ight?" Riz called as you headed toward the door, chuckles spreading throughout the bar when you shot him a glare over your shoulder. No matter how old you got, he still took it upon himself to embarrass you in front of others every chance he got. 

Opening the door and throwing one last wave over your shoulder, you stepped out of the clubhouse and headed down the rickety steps. You reached into the pocket of your jacket, feeling around for your keys but your attention turned away from your parked car when the gate slid open and two motorcycles rolled in. Ah, fuck. You bit the inside of your cheek and pulled the keys free from your pocket but just as you pressed down to unlock the car, you heard it:

"Aye, (Y/N)!" 

"Fuck," You sighed and turned around, planting a polite smile on your face while you waited for Angel and Ezekiel to finish taking off their helmets. Angel moved first and the only thing you saw before he tugged you into a tight embrace was his big dorky grin. You could smell the cigarette smoke reeking off him and grunted, hoping the smell wouldn't cling to your clothes. "Hey, Angel."

"Hey yourself, Beverly Hills." Angel laughed as he pulled away.

"I'm not even going to Beverly Hills." You groaned. "The new place isn't anywhere near there!"

"But with that fancy new job, you'll live there someday, right? You better tell the pretty girls about the attractive biker down in Santo Padre." Angel said, pushing his sunglasses up to rest atop his slicked-back hair. "Make sure to tell 'em he's funny and hot and-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell them all about Coco." You grinned when he clicked his tongue and lightly pushed your shoulder with his fist, his eyes rolling dramatically. He glanced over his shoulder at his younger brother and glanced back at you, wiggling his brows and smirking before he spun on his heels and headed into the clubhouse. 

"Hey." Ezekiel greeted gently, tugging his gloves off his hands and offering a sweet smile. You remembered a time when just his smile would make you weak at the knees and giggle like a lovesick idiot. But it only filled you with bitterness looking at it now. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he glanced toward your car. "Leaving so soon?"

"I gotta finish packing." You answered.

"Ah, right, you got a new job away from here, right? I'm happy for you. It's hard leaving this place, take it from me." Ezekiel sighed heavily, stuffing his gloves into the pocket of his jeans and curling his fingers around the front of his kutte. "Listen, (Y/N)... can I buy you a drink? For old times' sake? I always miss you every time you visit. Thought it'd be nice to catch up with you."

You inhaled deeply, eyes flickering toward the clubhouse when the Mayans inside cracked up with laughter at some unheard joke or story. It'd been nearly two years since you'd last seen Ezekiel Reyes face to face and spoken with him. Two long years since you'd stood in his trailer with tears in your eyes while he kept his head bowed, never uttering a single word as you tore into him. You'd broken up with him when he couldn't promise to keep his distance from Emily Galindo, a married woman bound to be his demise. He'd called and called but you ignored him until Riz stepped in and forced him to back off.

"No, thanks, Ezekiel. I have nothing to say to you if I'm honest. Everything I did want to say was said years ago. I hope you're doing well but you were never there for me when we were dating so why would I need you as a friend? You showed me how conditional your loyalty was." You told him and turned away from him, heading toward your car and opening the door. Ezekiel followed because being stubborn ran in the Reyes family, and reached out to cup your elbow.

"I know, I'm sorry. I fucked up. I... I have no excuses, (Y/N). I miss you. I miss us. I miss what we have and what we could've had-"

"I don't love you anymore." You told him bluntly, watching his face crumble in a matter of seconds. He released your elbow and stepped back, his gaze dropping onto the ground and lips pressing tightly together. "That love faded a long time ago, Ezekiel. It's best if you forget about us... 'cause it's never happening again."

[ficnation]

Shadow of a Broken Heart - EZ Reyes x Reader

Summary: Losing someone you love exposes the darkest side of what your friend is capable of. A broken heart opens a path for a twisted mind.

Word count: 1,4k+

Pairing: Platonic! Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Female! Reader; mentioned! Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x Reader

Warnings: SPOILERS for Mayans MC season 5, mayans mc typical warnings, pure angst

A/n: Another angsty piece for EZ because I’m never forgiving him for what he did to Neron. Enjoy the heartbreak and please reblog if you liked it!

Main Masterlist

Mayans MC Masterlist

A tense and heated silence fills the vehicle, your breathing deep and steady as you stare at the trailer ahead. Your knuckles are tight and white, your grip on the gun firm. With each breath, the weight of your grief and your need for vengeance grows, fueling your resolve.

You won’t let your loved one’s death go unpunished; EZ is going to pay the ultimate price for taking away his life. He’s going to die at the hands of his own friend, feeling betrayed just like Neron did. There was no way you’d let him go out easily after what he’s done.

As you let out a deep breath, your grip on the gun tightens even more. Your eyes are locked on your target’s home. Your mind is a vortex of emotions and thoughts—the sound of your heartbeat is deafening.

The tension is palpable as you wait, steeling yourself for the moment ahead. You are ready. You are prepared to carry out your vengeance, hoping for the sweet release of the overwhelming weight of your grief and anger that have been crushing you for the past few weeks.

You make sure the safety is on before you stick the gun beneath the waistband of your jeans. While it is still concealed, you can feel it pressed against your spine, the cold, metallic sensation of the firearm sending a chill down your spine.

Your heart is still pounding, your body tensing at every tiny sound, each muscle coiled and ready to strike. But your mind is calm and focused, determined to do what you came here for.

You jump out of the car, and your boots hit the dry earth below with a dull thud. The cool night air is a slight relief from your hot, boiling emotions. You straighten up as you leave the door open, afraid of making too much noise.

You reach the trailer, hesitating for a moment as your raised fist hovers over the plastic surface of the door. You stop your racing mind and bring your hand down, knocking gently.

The knock, even so quiet, reverberates throughout the night on the quiet street as you stand motionless, waiting to see if anyone will open the door—if your thirst for EZ’s blood will be satisfied.

You all but exhale when you hear the creaking of the floor inside. The steps get closer and closer then finally, Ezekiel Reyes inches the door open, peeking through the small gap.

You play the game and drop your shoulders with a defeated shrug. The bags under your eyes and the sadness of your frown are convincing enough for EZ to open the door fully. You force your eyes to tear up just like you did when you were a kid and your mom didn’t want to buy you ice cream. It looks real—believable.

The man you once considered a brother steps aside to let you in. He closes the plastic door as you look around the trailer. You knew beforehand Sofie had received an emergency call from her coworker asking for her assistance on the night shift. You were glad you bumped into Bottles, and he let the information slip.

You sit on the bed and put your head in your hands—elbows digging into the flesh of your thighs as you fake a sniffle. “I miss him so much, EZ. I don’t think I can go on much longer,” you mumble out, your voice breaking slightly.

You are amazed at just how good you’re at this because the dark-eyed man squats in front of you without a second thought. He places his large hands on your knees as he tries to look you in the eyes. You want to dig his eyes out and leave them hanging out of the sockets just by the nerves.

“I know it’s painful,” he says softly, and you let him guide your arms down. His skin touching yours makes you want to spit in his face.

“I’m like a fucking shadow without him. A shadow of a broken heart.” You clench your eyes shut as you let the tears spill down your cheeks, the black mascara leaving traces on your skin. “I’m nothing without him. I don’t know who I am or what I am supposed to do,” you sob, the words sound almost choked out. You’re telling the truth this time; you don’t even have to force it—the words spilling out of your mouth, the pain behind them, honest.

He hushes you, bringing your hands to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles in hopes of soothing you. You look into his eyes, searching for some glimmer of understanding, some shred of reason behind the betrayal. You’re desperate to find a tiny piece of remorse or guilt in them. But you know eyes can only say so much. His dark irises give away nothing, his gaze cold and indifferent—devoid of the warmth and patience he pretends to hold for you, lacking the Reyes’ love you had once come to know.

Your heart sinks, and you suddenly understand the truth. Your “friend” is no longer the person you once knew and trusted. He’s not the sweet prospect that always listened to your ramblings when you visited the clubhouse. He’s not the man that spent days with you just because Neron was sent on a long mission and you were drowning in worry.

You don’t know this man who kneels before you now and pretends to be your friend. He became a completely different person, someone that you can no longer trust or rely on. It is a devastating reality, and the pain of betrayal cuts even deeper into your heart—it claws at it and leaves marks that’ll never heal.

You know he doesn’t even slightly feel threatened by your presence. If he had reservations when he opened the door, they evaporated just as quick as you stepped foot into the trailer. You were just a woman, a creature smaller and weaker than a man like him. There was nothing about you that screamed danger. He allowed himself to drop his guard down—a mistake he’ll pay for.

“Don’t give up. One day you’ll wake up, and it won’t hurt anymore. You’re gonna get through it.” As your name leaves his lips after his empty promise—you almost shudder. He stands up and kisses the crown of your head—the nausea his touch draws out of you keeps growing. “Do you want to stay at the clubhouse tonight? I can keep you company. Maybe we can finish a bottle of tequila like in the good old days,” he offers.

You want to believe he’s genuine so badly. You want Neron back. You want your friend—the good version of Ezekiel Reyes—back. But deep down, you know you already made peace with the fact that it’ll never happen, that it’s time to say goodbye to both of them before they’ll drag you down with them.

You agree with a simple nod of your head and let EZ pull you to your feet and out of the trailer. He walks ahead, spinning the keys to the clubhouse in his fingers as he whistles a tune under his nose. You follow him, heart palpitating. You have to do it now, or you’ll lose your bravery.

Ezekiel looks back at you when you reach the door to the clubhouse, his eyes studying you. For a second, a fear pops into your head that maybe he’s well aware of the plan you made up in your head, and he’s just toying with you, but it disappears instantly when the man turns away and jabs the key into the keyhole.

You don’t wait. You pull the gun out of your waistband and stand behind him, raising it to his head. Your fingers pop the safety off, and you watch as EZ freezes, his shoulders tensing.

“You were like a family to me,” you mumble out, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes. You know if you give him a few more minutes, the shock will wear off, and he’ll overpower you in an instant, slapping the gun straight out of your hands. “I hope Neron doesn’t give you a second of peace down there, you lying piece of rat shit.”

Your fingers are steady as you pull the trigger. The shot reverberates through the night as the blood and brain tissue splatter on your face. The man in front of you takes his last breath as he falls face-first onto the wooden floor with a loud thud. You kick him in the ass for good measure before you turn away and jump down the steps, leaving him on the doorstep of his beloved club. When his brothers find his body the next morning, you’ll be long gone, somewhere far away from Santo Padre.

You don’t feel the sweet relief you hoped for.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Hello there lovely! If your drabble requests are still open, may I please request prompt #2 with.....EZ

🌻

It's about time I got to this! Here you are :)

Slight smut leaning below the cut, minors DNI!

Even in the cooler months, the heat of the border town has never lended to the need for long coats. Hence your boyfriend instantly guessing its purpose when you arrive wearing one.

"You're not wearing anything beneath that, are you?"

Your fingers play teasingly with the buttons upon the black trench, undoing them slowly while maintaining eye contact, letting it fall to reveal your nudity.

He hums in approval, welcoming you onto his lap when you move to sit astride him. "I'm only surprised you didn't decide to wrap yourself in a bow."

Your soft laughter is peppered with a couple of gasps, the feeling of his mouth meeting your nipples in turn making glimmers tingle across your skin. "Why? My favourite thing to have wrapped around me is you."

Reaching for his top, you pull it over his head, revealing the utter splendour that is his wide, hard chest. The delight in your eyes is mirrored in his, leaning to kiss him, stroking his face with your fingertips. "Happy birthday, baby. I hope you like your present."

"I don't," he murmurs, mouth laying kisses across your neck. "I fucking love it. Every last bit of it."

He spends the entire evening showing you how much, too.