#hank loza smut

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 28

Alright. It's a doozy. I'm talking like twice or three times the length of most of my chapters, but y'all voted for it. Here it is.

Do not steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted and there's a damn good reason for it. People have been waiting a long time for this chapter.

WARNINGS: cussing, 18+ only, unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), oral sex (f receiving), etc. It's fluffy porn for the last 2K+ words, okay?

Also - the first time I've EVER published something like this so be gentle. Better yet - be specific if you like it because I probably won't have the guts to write more like it if you aren't.

In Santo Padre proper, Hank parked the bike outside the best restaurant in town. He locked down their helmets and offered Megan his arm as he escorted her to the hostess stand.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?” the young lady asked.

“Should be under Loza,” Hank said, squeezing Megan’s hand gently.

“Yes sir. We have your table all ready for you. Please follow me.” She led them inside where they checked their jackets and then took them to a table that was fairly private. “Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal.”

Hank pulled Megan’s chair out for her and guided it in before taking his own seat.

Megan looked around with wide eyes. “Holy shit, Hank. I don’t know how to act in something as upscale as this.”

Hank laughed a little. “You’re doing fine, mi reina. Relax. It’s not as stuffy as it seems. I bring Mama here for special occasions. I promise, you’ll be just fine.” He leaned forward and took her good hand in his. “Besides - you don’t have to be anything except yourself. We don’t even have to order here. They just serve us the meal prepared for the evening. No decisions. No menus. Just us and dinner.” He couldn’t resist kissing her knuckles again as he watched her settle at his touch.

A waiter appeared at his elbow inquiring as to what they’d like to drink. Megan ordered water and Hank did as well. “We won’t be needing the wine list either,” Hank told him with a smile for Megan.

The bread and salad came out soon after they’d both gotten their drinks. As they ate, they talked softly about anything that came to mind. By the time the main course arrived, Megan was as relaxed in public as she could be. 

Hank was in the middle of telling Megan a story about when he was a young man in the military when their waiter appeared again to refill their water glasses. “Pardon me, but Mr. Galindo sends his regards and would like to buy your table a round of drinks,” he informed them.

Megan stiffened and looked around before clocking Miguel Galindo at a solitary table on the balcony. His head of security - the mercenary with the braids - stood near him. He raised a whiskey glass to acknowledge her look. 

Hank nodded. “You can tell Mr. Galindo that we appreciate his offer, but we’re not drinking tonight. Thank you,” he said levelly. 

“Very well sir,” the waiter said before leaving them to eat in peace. 

“What the hell does he think he’s doing? Megan fumed quietly. “There’s no way he thought that would be well received.”

Hank reached across the table to clasp her hand again to steady her. “Easy, mi princessa. THe more he sees it bothers us, the more outrageous he’ll get. Just ignore him.” He gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Deep breath. Don’t let him get to you.” 

Megan took a deep breath and squeezed his fingers before she started eating the steak and vegetables that was their main course.

Once the main course was finished, the waiter appeared again to clear their plates. “Would you like dessert?”

Hank grinned. “What is it tonight?”

“Triple chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream.”

Hank looked at Megan with a smile. “What do you think, mi amore?”

Megan cracked a smile and bit her bottom lip.

“I do believe that’s a yes. We’ll take one,” Hank laughed. 

While they were waiting on their dessert, Hank reached for her hands again. “Still up for dancing after this, mi reina?”

“Of course. You promised to teach me how to really dance.” She grinned. “Tío Marcus has taught me some of the formal stuff, but Coco swears I look like a stiff.”

Hank laughed. “Alright. There’s a little dance club down the street-”

“Excuse me. I hate to interrupt -”

Hank sighed and looked up to find Miguel standing by their table adjusting his cufflinks.

He watched Megan sink a bit in her chair. “Mr. Galindo. What can we do for you?” He reached to guide Megan around the table to bring her closer to him.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but notice that your sling is off, Ms. Morales. Is that wise?” Miguel asked. 

Megan looked to Hank in a panic without saying anything, so he pulled her around to sit on his knee. “Megan was cleared by a doctor earlier today. We’re actually celebrating that tonight. Was there something you needed?” Hank asked, gently rubbing the small of her back over the low back of her dress.

Miguel raised his eyebrows. “Ms. Morales - your voice has changed. I was under the impression that you were an officer in the M.C. Surely you can answer for yourself.”

Megan rested against Hank and took a deep breath. “Mr. Galindo, I am the Armorer of this charter, however, I’m not a voting member. I also don’t speak for the club on anything. Hank or another member will always be the one to speak instead of myself. That’s just how the structure of our organization works.”

Galindo smirked. “Ah, but we weren’t discussing business, Ms. Morales. We were discussion your personal safety. Perhaps you would do better with my organization watching out for you.”

“Either way, Mr. Galindo, my caballero or my father or godfathers will always speak for me first. They will always protect my interests,” Megan stated confidently. Hank nodded and placed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Surely you don’t see me as a threat, Ms. Morales. I’m a friend of your godfather. I’d like to be a friend to you.” He cut his eyes at Hank. “What’s preventing this relationship from becoming a friendship?”

Hank rubbed his hand up and down Megan’s bare back again and smiled. “Mr. Galindo, Megan can befriend whomever she likes. However, she also is still recovering from the abuse she suffered at the hands of people in a position of power over her. Because of that, she doesn’t feel comfortable discussing things with people that she doesn’t know. That’s where her club comes in. That’s where her family comes in.”

Megan settled against Hank’s chest and leaned her head against his shoulder as he continued to soothe her with his touch.

Miguel nodded and seated himself in Megan’s abandoned chair. “So, how can I gain your trust Ms. Morales? My business runs on trust. I don’t like not having yours.”

Megan sat up again, but continued to lean into Hank for courage. “Mr. Galindo, trust takes time to build. You have to give me time to get to know you and your organization. Time to see that you’re trustworthy.”

“Time? You need time?” Miguel ran his pointer finger over his top lip. “I can give you time, Cariño. On one condition…”

“What is your condition, Mr. Galindo?” Megan asked, lacing the fingers of her good hand through Hank’s where his hand rested on her hip.

“You allow me to attempt to earn that trust from you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Simply… allow me to be… friendly. Accept my gifts. Allow me to speak to you freely on the street without someone to hide behind.” He flashed her a charming smile.

“Mr. Galindo - it’s a free country. You can speak to anyone you’d like. Megan will speak with whomever she pleases. She can accept gifts from anyone - but you cannot require that of her if she is uncomfortable with you. You cannot intimidate mi princessa into trusting you.” Hank squeezed Megan’s waist comfortingly. “No one will ever force la princessa de los Mayas y mi reina to do something against her will again as long as any members of the Mayans M.C. survive. NOw - if you will excuse us - you’re interrupting our celebration. If you’d like to arrange a meeting to discuss la princessa, I suggest you go through proper channels.” Hank’s voice was smooth and calm the entire time he spoke to Galindo, but Megan could feel the tension in his body beneath hers.

Miguel nodded decisively and smirked at Hank’s protective speech. “Very well. Perhaps I will go through the proper channels then. See if I can’t get her as liaison.” He stood and straightened his suit jacket. “Until then, it was wonderful to see you looking so… well, Ms. Morales.” He paused to run his eyes over Megan where she sat. “Enjoy your… celebration.” He gave a mocking not to them and swept out of the restaurant. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Megan wilted into Hank as he cuddled her close. He could feel her trembling as she fought to keep her breathing even. “Easy, mi amore. You did beautifully.” He pressed kisses to her hair and used both hands to stroke her back and arms. “Shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you. He’s gone.”

Megan focused on her breathing as it seemed like a bubble of tension in the restaurant popped, releasing a wave of chatter from the other diners. She got herself under control and quickly sat up to give Hank a weak smile.

Hank cupped her cheek in his massive palm and soothed over her cheekbone with his thumb. “There’s my girl.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lip and smiled.

Their waiter reappeared with fresh water and their dessert. “Here you are sir, miss. Can I get you anything else? We appreciate how calmly you took your dinner being interrupted by another guest. My manager would like you to know that tonight’s meal is on the house as a thank you for your patience and kindness.”

Hank smiled at the much smaller man. “Thank your manager for us. I think mi reina would appreciate a cup of tea if you have time.” He smoothed some hair that had escaped her braids out of her face softly as he rocked her.

“Of course. I’ll be right back with that, sir.” The waiter hurried off.

Megan took one more deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth before she smiled at Hank. “Sorry. I froze.”

He kissed her forehead before pulling the dessert close and offering her one of the spoons. “You did just fine, Princessa. Let’s finish dinner and see if you still feel like going dancing afterwards.”

After finishing their dessert and a cup of tea for Megan, Hank guided her back out of the restaurant. He gently helped her into her leather jacket and took her back to his bike.

“Alright, mi amore. Still feel like dancing tonight? I’ll understand if you don’t,” he assured her.

Megan smiled up at him. “I don’t want him to succeed at spoiling our date night. I’d love to go dancing with you.”

Hank lit up. “In that case - let’s leave the bike here. There’s not much parking over by where I want to take you. Do you mind walking?”

“I don’t mind at all. It’s a beautiful night.”

Hank guided her to the inside of the sidewalk and took her good hand as they walked down the street. It wasn’t very far at all and Megan grinned when she could hear the music. “Ready to go dancing for the first time, mi princessa?” Hank asked, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and lingering teasingly.

“Ready.” She smiled up at him, giggling when he guided her into a spin right there on the street. 

They rounded the corner and entered a plaza that was lit with strings of lights. The club door was just a few yards away when Megan froze. Hank stopped and turned to check on her with a frown. “Mi amore? What’s wrong?”

Megan pointed to the door where a man with familiar braids stood talking to the bouncer. 

“Fuck. Asshole. He delayed us on purpose because he was sending his errand boy ahead,” Hank growled. “Either he’s waiting inside to ambush us again, or he’s paid off the doorman to keep us from getting in.”

Megan sighed and pressed her face into Hank’s bicep. “I really don’t want to deal with him again. He makes me anxious.”

Hank pulled her close and let her tuck herself into his broad chest before he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Then we won’t, mi reina. We can dance another night. We can go home or even back to the clubhouse with your papa and tíos. If you want, we can call the guys and have them bring the girls from Vickie’s - make our own dance club at the clubhouse…” He kissed her hair gently and rocked back and forth to settle her.

Nestor caught sight of them and smiled before patting the bouncer on the shoulder. 

Hank struggled not to lose his temper and go a few rounds with the cartel security. He focused on Megan in his arms and got angrier when he heard her sniff back tears. “Oh Princessa. Don’t cry. Don’t let that bastard steal our night.” He loosened his hold until he could tilt her face up to his and kiss her gently right there on the street corner. “Say the word, mi amore, and the club will arrive in force to go in with us if you want to dance in there tonight. You won’t have to deal with him. We’ll shield you.” He wiped the lone tear that slid down her cheek gently.

“No. Let’s just go home.” She shook her head. “No use in getting into fights with the fucking cartel over it.” Her eyes pleaded with Hank to let it go. “Let’s just ignore him and go home.”

He searched her face for a minute. “Alright, mi reina. Alright.” He turned her around and headed back towards the bike. 

Once they were back at the bike, Megan sighed. She looked so upset still, and Hank couldn’t stand it. He kissed both sets of knuckles and then her lips before he smiled down at her. “Well - at least I won’t have to shoot anyone for hitting on my gorgeous girl tonight. You really are so beautiful I’d probably have had to fight to keep you to myself in there.”

That got a watery chuckle from her as he leaned down to press a deep kiss to her lips. He pressed her close to his body and smiled as she fought to catch her breath after they broke apart. 

His personal phone chimed from his suit jacket pocket which gave him an idea. He pulled it out and started typing furiously. It dinged again - multiple times in a row - alerting her to the amount of responses he was getting. By the time the dinging stopped, he was grinning ear to ear.

“Alright, Princessa. Plan B. Let’s run to the grocery store for some extra ice cream and head home. The night’s not over yet.”

Hank encouraged her to take her time choosing snacks at the store. They got ice cream and topping for it as well as candy of all sorts. 

“What are we doing?” Megan giggled as Hank reached for a giant bag of M&Ms. 

“It’s a surprise, Princessa. The rich bastard can’t ruin this plan.” He grinned down at the loaded handbasket. “Anything else you want, mi amore?”

“I don’t think so. There’s so much.”

“Gotta have options.” His phone chirped again and he checked it. Whatever was on his screen made him smile in satisfaction. “Let’s head home.”

Back on the bike, Hank felt Megan relax into his back as soon as the wind hit her. When they stopped at a stoplight, he reached back to rest his hand on her bare thigh, stoking the soft skin that he couldn’t feel through his leather riding gloves.

At the ranch, Megan saw that the lights had been turned on inside, but there were no bikes or van parked outside. Once Hank cut the bike’s engin, Megan asked, “Who’s here?” as she removed her helmet.

“No one anymore. I had the Prospect come set some things up for us and then leave the lights on.” He smiled as he guided her off the bike first before dismounting along with her.

“Did you tell Papa what happened?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “Not yet, Princessa. We can tell him tomorrow morning so that he and Bishop can handle it. It’s not going to blow up our night.” He pulled her close and leaned down to kiss her gently. “Let’s go inside.”

Inside the ranch house, everything looked normal in the entrance and the living room, so Megan was a little puzzled. Hank helped her remove her leather jacket and hung it with his before leading her into the kitchen to put away the ice cream. That’s when she noticed it.

Hank had asked EZ to clear the patio of everything except the love seat to the side and the brick fire pit. String edison lights were hung from the rafters holding the roof and a fire had been laid, but wasn’t yet lit. One of the stereo systems from the clubhouse had been hung as well and the projector and screen from their movie date were back in place playing Latin dance music and showing video of some kind of festival where dancing happened in the plaza. 

She went to the patio doors and smiled brightly at the set up. After putting the ice cream in the freezer, Hank joined her at the doors, wrapping his arms around her from behind and swaying gently. “Now we can dance as much as we want and no one can interrupt us,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her left temple. “And if you get tired, we have all the snacks for a movie instead.”

“This is amazing. You didn’t have to do this -” she said, leaning back into his embrace.

“Mi reina, you were disappointed that Galindo was able to pull strings like he did tonight. I promised you dinner and dancing - so that’s exactly what you’re gonna get.” He smiled and caught her left hand in his right and spun her gently all the way around. “Ready for that dance?”

Megan popped up on her toes and kissed him. “Any time.”

Hank led her out onto the patio and lit the fire pit quickly before finding the remote that controlled the music and sliding it into his jacket pocket. He changed the song to the one they’d first danced to in Mama’s backyard before offering Megan his hand in the most over the top gallant fashion he could manage. “May I have this dance?”

Megan laughed, throwing her head back until she calmed enough to take his offered hand. “Of course, good sir.”

Hank drew her close and into frame for a proper dance before taking the lead. He could definitely tell the difference this time. Megan never looked away from his face to check her feet. She just trusted his lead. 

She smiled up at him as he spun her gently before catching her and lowering her into a dip. “You ready for the next step, Princessa?”

“What’s next?”

He chuckled. “Time to move. Just follow my lead.”

When the song changed, he started dancing her around the patio. It took a few minutes, but she found her footing in the movement. She glanced down to see that she was keeping beat and laughed.

Hank released her hand to guide her chin back up to meet his eyes. “Eyes on me, mi reina. You’re doing just fine.” He watched as she bit her bottom lip before meeting his gaze again. “There’s my girl.”

Megan felt heat spread through her veins and thought it must be visible on her face. The hand that Hank had on her waist slipped back to stroke the skin that was at the small of her back as she moved a little closer to him. “Hank?”

“Sí, mi princessa?”

“Kiss me?”

He smirked a bit before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips as the song swapped again. A much slower song started and he guided both of her hands up to the back of his neck asw he pulled her closer still.

Megan pouted up at him, making him laugh. “What’s wrong, mi amore?”

“That doesn’t count as a kiss.” 

He pressed his forehead against hers with a cheeky smile. “Oh really? What kind of kiss were you looking for?”

“This kind.” Megan pressed herself up to kiss Hank deeply as her hands slid into his haid to pull him closer. 

Hank couldn’t resist and pressed her completely against him with one hand stroking the bare back exposed by the dress that had been teasing him for hours as the other slid up to support Megan's head and neck. He let her lead the kiss as much as he could before she let out a tiny sound of pleasure that broke his carefully held control.

He gentled the kiss only enough to allow her to breathe before he backed them up to the loveseat. When he felt it at his back, he sat - pulling her to straddle his lap. For the first time, he felt like he could safely enjoy her being on top of him. He reveled in it. 

Megan settled into the comfort of his wide lap with a smile. Even with the brace still on her right wrist, this was the most Hank had allowed her to do in a while. Her hands went back to his soft hair as she kissed him again. 

Hank’s hands stroked the skin of her back and shoulders before one slid down her body to her bare thigh where her skirt had ridden up. He traced the bike shorts she was wearing before sliding his hand around to cup her ass through them and pull her hips tighter to his as he guided kisses across her jaw until he could nip her ear gently. “See, mi reina. Dancing at home has it’s advantages.”

Megan let out a breathy giggle as he rocked her hips into his. 

He smiled against her skin before exploring further down her neck with his kisses.

Megan allowed her head to fall back as he brushed his lips along the cleavage the neckline of her dress exposed and let out a small whine when he stopped. 

He chuckled as her trance was broken and she pouted at him again. He gently kissed her once more while rocking his hips up into hers. “Is this what you want, Megan?” he asked quietly. “Is it? You know you are the one calling the shots, right?” He cupped her neck with one hand and her hip with the other and waited until she met his eyes. Megan’s pupils were dilated so far that he could barely see the deep brown color that he had come to love so very much. “This is your choice.”

She smiled at him in such a way as to make his breath catch in his throat. “I know, Hank. You are always my choice.” She wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders and rocked her hips against the hard ridge in his suit pants. “I want you. All of you…”

He buried his face in her good shoulder as he pressed kisses to her skin. Once he’d calmed down enough, he smiled up at her. “Then we should take this behind locked doors.” He paused to press a kiss to her lips. “Go inside, mi reina. I’m going to put out the fire and cover the electronics and then I’ll meet you in our room.”

Megan searched his face for a moment before smiling down at him. “Alright.” She slid off his lap with the help of his guiding hands and shivered a bit when he sat forward on the love seat to kiss her stomach through her dress.

Once he was standing, he released her hand with a kiss and patted her ass to send her on her way inside. As she crossed the threshold of the patio doors, he started shutting everything down for the night. As he turned off the music, he realized that the speaker system was the outdoor ones - but they looked newer than the ones at the clubhouse. And the projector had been mounted to the rafters this time as well.

He went around the corner of the house to get the bucket of sand that Taza kept for putting out the fire pit and saw brand new boxes for the electronics broken down and ready to be burned. He laughed and shook his head. The Prospect must have told Taza what he’d been asked to do and Taza sent him shopping. Probably with Creep along to choose the right things to create a more permanent outdoor theater for the house. He shot a text off to Taza to thank him for making this easy for him, then grabbed the bucket and went to smother the fire. 

Before he went back inside to unplug the lights, his phone dinged with a reply and he checked it. “Anything for her, Hermano. She alright? Why the change of plans?” it read.

Hank paused and responded - “She’s fine. I’ll explain in the morning.”

An immediate reply came through saying “Good. See you in the morning.”

Hank locked his phone as he shut and locked the patio doors. Once he’d unplugged the patio lights, he plugged his phone in next to Megan’s on the kitchen counter and turned to the hallway to meet her.

In the bedroom, Megan had taken the time to remove her makeup and wash her face. She sat at her vanity unpinning her braids as he walked in and leaned in the doorway. She was humming contentedly and he waited for her to notice him before joining her in the bedroom.

Megan’s eyes met his in the mirror and she smiled. “Thought I’d go ahead and wash my face.” She let her warrior braids fall to brush her tattooed back.

“Need some help, Princessa?” he asked, pushing off the doorframe and closing the door behind him and locking it. 

She smiled up at him as he joined her at her vanity. “Of course.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Want your jewelry off?”

“Yes please. And my hair down.”

He smiled again and removed her necklaces, placing kisses beneath each clasp before undoing them. He helped to remove her earrings carefully as well before replacing her cord and silver necklace from Taza. He felt her shoulders relax as soon as it was back in its place around her throat. Lastly, he removed her new pearl bracelet and put it away in her jewelry box.

He reached for the small scissors that Taza had shown him to use to cut the bands on her smaller braids. He carefully snipped each band and threw them away before he started to unravel Megan’s hair. He watched her face relax as the tension from her heavy hair released. Once it was all unraveled, he gently massaged her scalp and watched her eyes close in bliss. Once he’d worked over her scalp well, he picked up the brush she used to detangle it and brushed it out so that it laid to her waist over her dress. “Better, mi amore?” he asked, smoothing her silky hair.

She opened her eyes to meet his with a smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You are so beautiful, Megan.” He bruised her hair aside to kiss her bare shoulder. 

She smiled and tilted her head to give him more access to her neck as she watched him in the mirror.

Hank took advantage of the exposed skin and pressed kisses up her neck until he reached her ear. “Alright, Princessa. You’re sure?” he whispered.

“I’m sure, Hank.”

He kissed her temple before shedding his suit jacket and the button up so he was just standing there in his slacks and a white wife-beater tank with his tattoos on display in the dim lighting of the lamps. He offered Megan his hand to help her stand and when she took it, he guided her close to him. Once she was pressed to his front, he used one massive hand to tilt her chin up so he could look down into her eyes. “You tell me to stop at any time, mi reina. Anytime.” He stroked a gentle thumb across her bottom lip. “Promise me?”

Megan’s wide trusting eyes stared up at him and she blinked. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” He pulled her closer against his chest and kissed her deeply, stroking his hands over her still clothed body.

Megan’s hands explored his chest and sides as she let out the tiniest little whimper. When he paused, she whined and reached to pull his head back down to kiss him again. She ran her good hand through his ruffled hair and stood on her bare toes to reach him better.

Hank cupped her hips over her dress and lifted her until she wrapped her legs around his waist without stopping the kiss. He finally broke it to laugh a little because she was giggling. He walked them to the bed and laid her across it before peppering kisses across her face and neck.

She grinned up at him as he paused to catch his breath.

He reached to cup her face again. “I love when you smile at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re the happiest woman in the world and I did something to make you that way.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before deepening it. He slid his hand to her knee where it rested against his side and eased his touch up her leg beneath the skirt of that deep red dress. He was expecting to encounter the bike shorts again, but instead found only the smooth skin of her thigh. He buried his face in the crook of her neck with a moan. “Makeup wasn’t all you took off, mi amore, was it?”

Megan ran her casted hand gently down his back over his wife beater and stroked the back of his neck with gentle fingers. “Don’t need shorts if I’m not on the bike…”

He made another strangled sound as his hand encountered lace which made her giggle again. “You alright, Hank?” she asked.

He kept his face buried in her skin and nodded. “Gimme a minute.”

Megan relaxed beneath him where he laid on top of her, supporting his weight  on the arm by her head. She marveled at how he was rock steady above her as she traced the muscles of his back.

“Princessa, that’s not helping. I’m trying real hard not to embarrass myself right now.” He picked his head up with a smile before rocking his hips gently against her.

Megan reached to stroke the line of his jaw with her good hand. “I won’t break, Hank. The sling is fully off and all that’s left is the soft cast. You won’t hurt me.”

He kissed her inner wrist and nodded. “I know, but you were so hurt for so long, mi reina. I don’t want that for you again. Especially because I lost control.” He slid to the side a little to rest on the bed beside her as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Besides - I know that this -” he gestured between the two of them. “This isn’t something that’s been your choice in a long time. I don’t want to be like him.”

Megan smiled and moved to snuggle closer to his body heat. “You aren’t him though. You’ll never be him. I’m not afraid of you and never have been.” She made solid eye contact with him. “I love you.”

Hank took a moment to scan her eyes for any hesitation, but found none so he drew her into a deep and loving kiss while guiding her hands back to his chest. 

Megan could feel that he was still hesitant to push her, so she tugged at the white tank top he was still wearing before whispering - “Off.”

When Hank sat up to remove it, Megan reached to undo the side zipper on her dress. He never took his eyes off of her as she shed it carefully - revealing the white lace panties he had only felt during their make out session. Her chest was completely bare since she’d shed the sticky bra at the same time as the bike shorts. She watched his jaw tighten before reaching for him to unfasten his slacks.

As her fingers fumbled with the zipper, Hank’s hands explored the now familiar skin of her torso.  He stroked her skin gently while surging forward to kiss her again with more heat in it. 

As soon as the zipper released, Megan stroked the hard ridge of his cock through the cotton of his boxer briefs causing him to moan softly. He broke the kiss to slide out of his slacks and sit firmly against the headboard before offering her his hand in invitation.

She didn’t hesitate. She took the offered hand and moved to straddle him, sitting firmly over that pronounced ridge in his underwear and shivering in pleasure at the feeling.

The heat that he could feel through the two thin layers of cotton was overwhelming. He cupped the back of her neck to pull her into his kisses before trailing more over them over the soft skin of her neck and shoulder. When his kisses hit that soft spot, right below her ear, Megan couldn’t resist a small moan of satisfaction as she rocked gently in his lap giving her body some of the stimulation it craved. 

With his left hand, Hank moved to cup a bare breast, gently thumbing and rolling the hard nipple as he diligently nibbled sweet spots on her neck and ears. His other hand slipped down to stroke teasingly along the top band of her panties.

Her hands alternated holding his head close to where she so desperately wanted it and stroking the muscles of his arms and abs.

When he pulled back a bit to catch his breath, Megan didn’t give him a chance for his brain to re engage and start overthinking again. Instead, she returned the favor, exploring his tattooed skin with wet kisses and nibbles. She traced the now familiar ink of his chest with her lips before nuzzling the nautical star just beneath his clavicle.

Hank reached to pull her higher on his body so he could catch her breast with his lips. She arched to offer him full access which he took advantage of - tracing around her sensitive breast with his tongue before catching a nipple to suckle - enjoying the soft noises of pleasure she let out. His fingers slipped under the final lace covering her to tease her cleft, causing her to buck into his touch with a whine. He chuckled and swapped breasts as her hand clutched at his broad shoulders for support.

It didn’t take much encouragement for him to part her folds to find her clit. As he stroked the first circle over it, Megan’s breath caught in her throat and he noticed her arms shaking trying to support her weight against him. Her cast rubbed his skin as she shifted.

He nuzzled her breasts. “Easy, mi amore. Don’t hurt yourself.” He kissed up her body to catch her lips in a deep kiss before muttering “Let me help…” against her lips.

He quickly wrapped his free arm around her back to hold her against him. Without ever losing rhythm, he flipped their positions and laid her back against the bed beneath him again. 

As soon as he settled her into the covers, he paused to look at her. Her dark hair sprawled across the blankets they had chosen together. Her lips swollen from his kisses. Her breasts rising rapidly as she enjoyed his touch. That’s when it clicked for him. She really meant it. He was her choice - and he’d be damned if he didn’t worship her the way she deserved. 

Megan whined as his fingers left her slit.

“Shh,” he hushed her gently, leaning to kiss her softly on the forehead. “Patience, Princessa.” He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties before guiding them down her legs as his lips trailed kisses down her small body.

Once she was completely bare beneath him, he pecked kisses up her skin again until he could kiss her lips. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered before resuming laying on his side over her to enjoy her kisses again.

When she was so involved in kissing him that she tried to roll over to press into his body, he gently pressed her back onto her back before trailing his hands along her skin again and teasing her entrance with a single finger as she whined. 

“Hank, please - don’t tease me -”

He smiled down at her. “Never.” He eased a finger into her tight tunnel and she arched off the bed as his thumb found her clit again. She was so wet she was practically dripping, so he pulled out and added another finger, catching her cry of pleasure with a kiss. He eased into a rhythm with his fingers and thumb - watching her build quickly for him.

“There she is. Gonna cum for me, Preciosa?” On his next press inside her, he hooked his fingers up to rub along her top wall. He knew he’d found it when Megan cried out and her hands scrambled for purchase against his chest making him chuckle a little. He shifted his weight to catch her hands in one of his before gently, and with a mind for her brace, trapping them against him. “Come on, Princessa,” he whispered, watching her body language. 

On the next thrust of his fingers, her eyes popped open to meet his and her mouth opened on a silent scream as her entire body tensed and she came for him.

Hank eased her through it as he watched her body spasm before relaxing into him panting for breath. He slowed his hand and released her arms to hook a finger under her chin an guide her into a deep and gentle kiss. 

He tried to ease his fingers out of her without triggering too much oversensitivity, but she still twitched and whimpered. He hushed her gently and gathered her to his chest to let her breathing regulate. 

Once she was breathing regularly again, he eased back to grin down at her a bit cockily. “Alright there, Princessa?”

Megan giggled. “Mmmhmm.”

“Good. Do you want more or do you want to stop?” he asked, smoothing her hair down her back as they lay on their sides still pressed closely together.

She tilted her chin so she could look him in the eyes. “I really want all of you…”

He smiled and moved to kiss her again. “Then you’ll get it, mi reina.” He nudged her back onto her back before reaching to tease her entrance again. “That’s my girl. Oh Princessa, you’re so wet…” He eased his fingers back inside her as she arched for him. He started slow and gentle to be sure that her oversensitivity had passed before brushing sucking kisses down her throat - focusing on a spot between her neck and left shoulder to leave a light mark beneath where the collar of a t-shirt would cover.

When her soft whimpers turned to a whine, he eased further down to kiss and tease her breasts. She arched as he stroked that spot inside her again and he sucked a nipple hard making her cry out. “That’s it- Good girl-” he breathed into her skin as he kissed further down.  “Let me taste you, mi amore…” He nuzzled further down, guiding her good hand to his hair before he pressed a kiss to her hip. “Just a taste - then you can cum for me again…”

Megan whined and tugged his hair. “Hank - want you-”

He kissed her hip again, nibbling another mark into her skin. “You’ll have me - but I really want to taste you. Let me?” He looked up at her to meet her eyes - blown wide with the pleasure his fingers were giving her.

She met his eyes and bit down hard on her lip before nodding. 

Hank immediately moved to swipe his tongue through her dripping slit. Broad flat licks from his pumping fingers to her clit before circling that sensitive bundle with his tongue.

Megan’s fingers tightened and clutched his hair as she cried out a writhed. When he sucked gently at her clit and crooked his fingers again, she screamed and came for him again.

This time, Hank didn’t let her come down fully. He eased up a little, but kept up the stimulation as he shed his briefs. Just as she suddenly started spasming again, he slid his fingers out and moved to sink his cock inside her. 

Megan screamed again in pleasure as Hank sank halfway inside on his first thrust. Her hands moved to clutch at his back as his face buried in her good shoulder with a groan and a string of broken Spanish.

He eased back and thrust back in with a gentle roll of his hips until he was fully seated inside of her. He peppered her skin with kisses as he gave her time to adjust. When she finally relaxed beneath him, he propped himself on his elbows so he could look down into her face. “You okay, mi reina?” he panted, struggling to be still.

She nodded and tried to lift her hips - “So good. Hank - move please-” she begged through harsh breaths.

He started gentle but felt her shifting to take him deeper and adjusted his strokes until she was crying out again and digging her nails into his tattooed back. 

He moaned as he felt her tightening down on him. “Good girl - gonna cum soon. Need you close-” He shifted to put more power behind his thrust and snaked a hand between them to thumb her clit again. 

“Hank!”

“You close, mi amore? Gonna cum on my cock like mi reina deserves?”

She nodded frantically and tried to bite off her scream as she exploded, triggering his own release. He thrust through both of their highs before easing off until he practically collapsed on top of her. After a few breaths, he pulled her close and rolled them so she was on top as she shuddered through the aftershocks. As she relaxed, he eased out of her causing her to whimper.

“Shh. Easy, mi princessa. Rest.” He pressed kisses to her tangled hair and stroked her skin soothingly. “You are so perfect. So perfect.” He looked down as both of their breaths evened out to see her eyes closed and a content little smile on her lips. “Rest a minute - then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

After letting her relax in his arms, he gently eased out from under her - soothing sounds escaping him as she whined at him moving. He scooped her up and went in to start the shower for both of them. He helped to clean her up and combed through her hair to remove the worst of the tangles. Then he snuggled her dozing body against his beneath their blankets and drifted off to sleep with his nose burning in the crown of her head and her right back where she belonged to sleep - practically on top of him.

Taglist:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

@keyweegirlie

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - A Guero (Mayans MC)/OC Story.

Okay, okay! I cave to the demand and the excitement I have warmly received from you all. Here you go, darlings. First chapter is here. I can’t promise I will be posting the second next week just in case I want to do ANOTHER deep dive into the editing, but since I am just over halfway through writing it now, I thought I would at least post the first. 

Story is somewhat canon, with a few changes here and there to suit my artistic vision... i.e. I kicked canon in the ass and told her to go home, hahaha! Oh, I also gave Guero a surname, too! I tried to keep him as true to who we see on screen, but obviously since we didn’t get him for long, some of his characterisations are of my creation. Don’t like it? Don’t read. Simple as that. 

Nervously and excitedly awaiting your feedback, eeek! :)

Words - 3,834

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters. 

Unknown numbers. Ezekiel Reyes often received more than he wished to endure upon the burner phone he used for club business. Regularly they were legitimate, but occasionally telemarketers, such annoyances he simply hung up on instantly. While walking from his trailer to the clubhouse, he expected the call coming in to be that of nuisance, 11am seemingly the call centre worker bee’s peak time to bother him about his long-distance courier needs, or savings on his energy bills.  

It was no telemarketer, but he almost disconnected the call all the same in sheer disbelief.  

“Ezekiel Reyes?”

“Who wants to know?” His journey across the yard was undisturbed, watching as Bottles and Nestor took in an alcohol delivery, a nearby Guero and Downer giving them the usual offering of shit talk.

“Rocco Lombardi.”  

He stopped dead in his tracks. The Rocco Lombardi was reaching out to him? Nah.

“This your idea of a joke?”  

He heard a deep chuckle filter down the line. “I’m more of a knock knock, who’s there kinda fella.” Remaining paused, he thought whoever it was had at least nailed the thick, New Jersey accent. He had to give them props for that, he guessed. “Listen, you got FaceTime, I take it?”  

“I do, but...” The line cut dead. Five seconds later and sure enough, a FaceTime call came in. EZ nearly fell over when there on the screen, appeared the face of the big boss, the notorious and famed king of the mafia. There he was; the head of the biggest, most powerful crime family on earth. Rocco Lombardi.  

“That better?”  

He raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, the confirmation is appreciated.”

“Good. Now not for nothin’, but I can’t fuckin’ stand video calls, encrypted or not. I’ll call you back.” Once again, the call disconnected, the cell ringing after a few moments. All the while EZ could feel his ego swelling, realising truly how far he’d come in his leadership that he was being sought out by someone of such standing within the criminal underworld. He was nothing short of surprised when he eventually found out why, though.

He’d always believed that the code of La Cosa Nostra forbade their operations to extend into the realms of drug trafficking. To be specific, he’d assumed it stemmed from reasons of mortality, perhaps a skewed sense of Catholic guilt, when in fact, the commoner explanation was far simpler.  

The prospect of a lengthier prison sentence, of course, increased the propensity of their members turning upon the organisation, becoming government informants in order to secure a more lenient custodial term. When the federal carrot is dangled before a desperate man, one looking at forty years when his assistance could mean all he ends up serving is ten to fifteen, tongues tend to be loosened.  

Rats out themselves, major players are taken off the streets and ultimately, the government wins.  It would be very reasonable to assume that the code is in place for this very reason, to prevent such catastrophic damage within their organisation and family infrastructure. The risk is not worth the payout. Or rather, it is bendable to the point of unrecognition when those doing said bending can earn a substantial profit.  

Enter Rocco Lombardi and his proposition.

“I think we could mutually benefit from the blending of your organisation with mine, Mr Reyes.” Lombardi was intelligent enough to be concise, even when speaking upon the relative safety of a burner phone. He hadn’t gotten to the top because he was sloppy. Lombardi had sat at the very head of the hierarchy for years, after all. He was hailed as the boss of all bosses for a reason.  

They’d once given John Gotti the monicker of Teflon Don, because nothing ever stuck to him in the way of evidence to bring about charges. That was until his own underboss has turned on him, the evidence given at trial by Salvatore “Sammy the Bull” Gravano leading to his incarceration. Truly, if there was one overlord within the organised crime world who lacked cohesion, it was the man who ruled the Romano crime family with an iron fist.

EZ Reyes had launched into thoroughly researching Lombardi after his reaching out to him, learning the ins and out of his character, how much of a slippery customer he was, how – and it went without saying – he would use people as pawns to further his own reach and agenda. It went without saying because it was the way of his own world, too. Within his MC, he went about the very same, albeit on a much smaller scale.  

Rocco Lombardi’s reach was, to put it simply, enormous. EZ and his VP would be lying if they’d have claimed that bearing such in mind, it hadn’t piqued their curiosity over what on earth he could want with a Californian based MC. For all intents and purposes, the man had his operations not merely sewn up tightly, but steel reinforced.  

“All I know is we gotta play it carefully, mano,” Bishop had sagely advised prior to their leaving Santo Padre to for a face to face with the mafioso legend, Rocco insisting that a larger MC presence not assemble in the interests of it remaining nothing short of clandestine. “Our worlds might be similar, but the mafia play by an entirely different set of rules. I ain’t saying you’re not smart enough to outsmart the guy, but he’s the kind who will have thought three moves ahead before we’ve even stepped foot into that hotel suite.”  

EZ had sipped his beer, narrowed eyes unmoving as he’d absorbed the words of the former president with all the credence they deserved. Bishop had, after all, been approached by the mafia before. His reasons for turning down an offer from a different crime family had been solid in their validity, and EZ knew he would be a fool to let this warning go unheeded. Especially since the club were on their knees where their drug trade was concerned. He also knew that somehow, Rocco likely knew this, too.  

The mafia tended to have ears in the very last places one might expect them to extend. He also knew that they preferred to keep their operations within the Italian American brotherhood if they could at all help it, so the need for an alliance was somewhat even in its beneficial mutuality.  

“I guess we just have to wait and see what this sit down entails.” Truly, it was all they could do.  

The time passed quickly between then and the two of them riding through the strip, both separately feeling the mist of apprehension gather, until they were parking up at the hotel and casino they were scheduled to meet Lombardi at, their demeanours switching to cool composure before they’d even entered the building.

The two men dressed in denim, flannel and leather looked out of place as they strode across the foyer of the MGM Grand, the buzz and tacky decadence of Las Vegas swirling all around them. Gamblers bet it all, slot machines flashed in frenzy while spitting out endless streams of coins, and alcohol flowed without restriction, certainly enough to keep it so the house always won.  

Would it be their own win he was sealing, EZ thought while waiting for the elevator, or was this the biggest and most uncertain gamble the club were about to make to date? He guessed the next few hours would tell, whether or not he was about to be presented with a winning hand.  

The ding of the elevator roused him, both stepping inside, Bishop pressing the button for the tenth floor. EZ stared straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator doors, noting the haunted veil that hung over his features. Shadowy eyes and skin bearing many more lines than a man in his mid-thirties should do were now his staple in appearance, a few further flecks of grey in his hair also.

Ezekiel Reyes was a man barely holding it together, but his demeanour did not give away the tumult that gnawed at his guts and yanked at his nerves, even if it had seemed to age him five years in just over seven months. His control was as unquestionable as it was unshakable, even in the dark times his club was currently under the duress of. He would never, ever let the toll it was taking upon him show.  

He was in Vegas, after all. Home of the poker face.  

The man at his side, though? He saw through the veil. He knew. In the interests of helping him glue back together the smashed fragments of the MC, he chose to keep his observances to himself. When he’d reigned supreme, if someone had pointed out his weak points, he would have shown no magnanimity in return. He knew better than to antagonise. Bishop Losa was nothing if not tactile these days, with how much delicacy teetered upon a knife’s edge, how much was at stake.  

The elevator shunted to a stop, the doors gliding open, the men exchanging a look and a nod before they exited, walking in step down the long hallway. Coming to a stop in front of room eight one five, EZ reached to knock, his arm suddenly grasped, preventing the rap of knuckles upon the sleek, white enamel.

“Whatever goes down in there, I got you.” Bishop’s words were delivered with a solemn nod, EZ returning it before knocking the door. They stood tall as they waited, unflinching, rock-like in their demeanour, the door opening to reveal a slight yet menacing looking man in an expensive suit. He eyed up the two men standing before him, his lips pursing slightly as he stood back to allow their entrance.  

“Guns on the table.”  

EZ’s brow knitted. “The fuck?”

“You heard me, stronzo. Guns. On. The. Table.”  

Neither man took well to his condescending delivery, both irked at the display of what they considered to be one hell of a chip upon his shoulder. EZ was just about to offer his retort when a voice came from further within the suite.

“Stop playing rottweiler and let my guests in, Mario. If we’re armed, so can they be, too.” Immediately, he stood aside at the instruction of his boss, a large, dark-haired man rising from his seat at the dining table, two armed men stationed in opposing corners of the suite. “My apologies. This one here, he can be a hot head, y’know?”

Although seemingly personable right off the bat, there was an aura surrounding Rocco Lombardi that virtually crackled with menace. His ‘thou shalt not fuck with me’ demeanour was beyond palpable. “Take a seat, fellas. Can I offer either of youse a drink?”

EZ’s eyes flitted around the room, taking in every detail. He stored it all on the internal hard drive that was his brain, his guard up as naturally it should have been. “No, thank you.”

Rocco took the rebuff in his stride, gesturing to the chairs opposite as he sat again. “A man who likes to get straight down to business. I can appreciate that.” Down to business was exactly how it went, no pleasantries, no idle chatter. Rocco cut right to the chase.

“My proposition is simple, Ezekiel. My current methods in transportation of product are, shall we say, attracting more attention than myself and my associates are comfortable with, y’know? I need to implement a one stop solution. I also need a far more financially viable method of my product crossing the border from Mexico than I’m currently paying through the fucking nose for.”  

Bribes. Of course, Lombardi meant bribing the border control, an exercise EZ knew likely cost fortunes, cutting into a profit margin the mafia were probably tired of having bites taken out of. “This is where the MC comes in, youse and your tunnel.” EZ’s eyebrow twitched, just a fraction, Rocco smirking at the tell.  

“Yeah, I know all about it. Ain’t many places my ears don’t have reach. I want that tunnel as a new channel to move my product across the border, which then will be transferred to the Port of San Diego, to a designated shipping container the day it ports. You unload into the container, minus your personal cut that will ensure you keep the monopoly on supply within the Californian correctional facilities, and you also get a nice little monetary injection for you and your boys on a monthly basis. How’s that sound?”

EZ took a moment to ponder, his fingers knitting before him on the table, arm muscles flexing as he shared a sideways glance with Bishop. “Sounds like there’s a catch.”  

Rocco smirked, taking a long puff on his cigar, his eyes twinkling through the thick plumes of smoke as he leaned back in his chair. “You move two tons at a time. That is non-negotiable.”  

Two fucking tons every month. Holy mother of god. Before they’d even entered that room, they of course knew the reach of the Romano crime family, that it was extensive. Worldwide, even. Two tons of heroin every four weeks truly hammered home just how far Lombardi’s tentacles reached within the criminal underworld. The risks associated with that were unfathomable, EZ lifting his chin, his poker face firmly set once more. “I’m gonna need to see a number, the nice little monetary injection you speak of.”  

Rocco reached into the pocket of his suit, removing a pen, taking a napkin from the table before him and scribing a number upon it, sliding it across the polished wood. Upon viewing it, EZ’s well trained blank façade slid south quickly, showing it to Bishop.  

“Jesus fucking Christ.”  

His quiet exclamation was no understatement over the amount of zero’s scrawled upon the napkin.  

“I assume you know of our current difficulties with the LNG?”

The tall man nodded. “Quite a fucking pasticcio youse have gotten yourself into, eh?” His smile widened suddenly, slowly drawing his thumb and forefinger from the corners of his mouth down to the centre of his lip. “If you do the first shipment for free, I can take care of that, as well as your issues with the knuckleheaded, heavy arms wielding fuck heads you got yourselves caught up in, too.” He hissed a breath over his teeth, shaking his head. “Fentanyl, gentleman. What a risky business that is.”

What in the fuck didn’t this man know about their operations? EZ was all but surprised that Rocco wasn’t clued in on the colour of his underwear by that point, the man seemingly well informed, his intel even extending to knowing about their deal with Cole.  

He rose to his feet, jerking his head towards the balcony. “If you could give myself and my VP a moment?”  

Rocco made a passive motion with his hand, nodding. “Sure, take your time.”  

They strode across the suite, wallet chains rattling and leather creaking the only sounds to permeate the silence of the room, EZ sliding the glass door open. The warm Vegas air hit him, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the luminosity of the strip, thousands upon thousands of lights twinkling. They glittered a promise of wealth and prosperity hinged upon a gamble, which was exactly what Rocco Lombardi was offering up to them.

“You have to back me on this when we take it to the table. The risk is massive, and I appreciate that, but this? This is our way out of it all. Our way out and our ladder to climb back to the top.”

Bishop considered the words of his president as he pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one up. A massive risk; fuck, that was putting it lightly. It was a fool’s errand, in short, transporting such a colossal consignment of heroin. The pay off, though? If they could execute each run flawlessly, it would be beyond worth it. Santo Padre would be back on top, and the Mayans kings of California.  

He wanted with everything he had to back EZ, but something persistent tugged at him deep in his guts. The old adage ‘too good to be true’ echoed through his mind. There had to be another catch. For all appearances, said catch appeared to be the two tons of narcotics, the kind of consignment that would mean the MC would never see the outside of a prison for the remainder of their lives, should they be caught moving it. However, he felt there was another shoe yet to drop from Lombardi’s perspective.  

Conflict rose in him like an unpleasant tempest, knowing that they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Take the deal and shoulder an enormous risk or walk away from it and try to seek a way out of their mess alone. Being in the pocket of the mafia was a dangerous location, he knew that; they both knew that. In this instance, no matter how much trepidation he felt, he had to concede that Lombari’s offer was very much the lesser of two evils.  

Still, it didn’t prevent him voicing the concern. “I feel like there’s something extra he’s gonna have us on the hook for further down the road.” Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he turned to his president, brows furrowed, his head shaking softly. “I wanna back you, but I don’t trust him.”

Neither did EZ, if he was honest. “We don’t need to trust him. We need to make ourselves indispensable to him. The weight of his organisation has the power to break us completely, and I’d be an idiot if I didn’t see that, Bish. We gotta remember that he’s coming to us because he needs this symbiosis too. If he had any other plan to move his product, he’d have exacted it by now. What he’s offering us in payment solidifies that. He needs to lock the MC down.”  

He took a breath, his eyes once again focusing on the lights below. “And our backs are against the kind of wall we can’t break alone. Rocco Lombardi can not only break that wall, he can obliterate it completely. We can’t refuse.”

Upon their return to Santo Padre, an immediate templo was called, the proposition repeated, a vote cast. It was, just as EZ had anticipated, a unanimous yes. Hell, it wasn’t like any of the men assembled around the table hadn’t known that extreme danger was exactly what he was signing up for, and this was about a risky as it got.

Moving heroin two tons at a time for the mafia was the height of hazardous endeavours, but the payoff would elicit the kind of money and power they had been striving for. Sure, they were still ultimately under someone else’s thumb, but in the world of the MC, Santo Padre rose like the phoenix from the proverbial ashes. If they were careful and exercised caution, they would remain risen, too.  

The operation was undertaken with military precision. The two tons of heroin were moved through the tunnels from one side of the border to the other, then stowed away down there for a day before the Mayans arrived, loading one ton into each van. The vehicles both then hit the road, two members within, two members upon motorcycles escorting at the front and rear, and EZ leading the way.  

They drove far enough apart not to attract the attention that such a closely assembled convoy likely would, with EZ a quarter of a mile in front, so he could warn of any upcoming complications that might lead to said convoy needing to peel off the freeway. Since the run was done at 2am, the risk of such was minimised greatly, yet still they always prepared for the worst-case scenario. This is why two vans were utilized, when all it truly took was one. If one broke down, then there they were, stuck with a life sentence cargo on the side of the freeway, rather than another means to continue their journey.

Arriving at the port, EZ gave the usual nod to the guard, a guard whose pockets had been nicely lined with mafia cash, who would duly send another of his team down to the container as soon as the Mayans left, standing guard until the cargo was loaded onto a vessel bound either for New York or the far east the following morning. Yes, the tentacles of Rocco Lombardi even reached over to the Yakuza, the Japanese criminal organisation taking two tons of product off his hands on a bi-monthly basis.  

The shipment they were about to offload on that particular night was heading straight back to New York, the guys all assembling, the usual banter firing back and forth.  

Downer, of course, was at the epicentre of it. “Hey, I thought there was meant to be whores on the dockside? That’s a thing, ain’t it? We’ve been here four times before now and no damned pussy anywhere.”

Angel lit a cigarette, raising his eyebrows. “Man, where the fuck you get that from?”

“He’s right,” Hank chimed in, “but about a couple hundred years out of date. Hookers used to frequent the docks back in the eighteen, nineteen hundreds. Gave lots of navy men who’d been at sea for months at a time a rampant case of the syph.”  

Guero couldn’t help himself. “Eighteen hundreds. Back in your youth, huh bro?” He was shot a look of pure distain from Downer, his chirp continuing. “I bet you’d like the crotch rot. You’re a sick enough individual to probably be into it.”

“It’s his kink. Itchy balls and a putrid cock, man,” Bottles interjected with, earning a snort laugh from Guero and an incredulous stare from Downer.  

Aggressively delivered middle fingers were raised. “Fuck you and fuck you even fuckin’ harder!”

Bottles grinned at the rise he’d gotten. “You wish.”  

“You’re getting way too smart with that fuckin’ yap of yours, prospect,” he snorted, pointing at Guero. “Been spending too much time with him and his big mouth.”

The man himself beamed, pulling his hood up. “What can I say?” He held his arms in wide expression, his smirk growing. “I’m infectious. Like your cock, just way less scabby.” He received a boot in the ass as he turned, heading straight over to the yellow container and hauling the levers to open it. What he expected to see within were the usual lines of packing cases into which they would load their cargo, with a specially marked one housing their cash.  

The last thing he expected to see was the body of a dishevelled looking blonde girl with a gash upon her head, lying there out cold, and the marked case notably empty of its usual stack of bills.  

“Uh, guys?” he called, appearing back around the container door as his brothers were carrying cargo across from the vans. “We got a situation in here.”  

[zaenight]

I think you'd like this story: "Crazy but she's mine || Ezekiel "Ez" Reyes" by zae-night on Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/story/335114103?utm_source=android&utm_medium=com.tumblr&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=zae-night&wp_originator=TEAr7l8lsw4spX6cOwkPmuVuTvL%2F%2BrkG6UNMnUww4yt3gUbPyA3MtiMbY0qHcDboonHpEWpVdxYCOTYsWPvIbKUVpkg7H6OdKCGF6QYuZqxhaOvgyGqnEydgtqbSUDd5

[imagineredwood]

Cake (Angel) 🧁❤️‍🔥

Chocolate (Bishop) 🧁

Roses (Miguel) 🧁❤️‍🔥

Stars (EZ)❤️‍🔥

Neighbors (Jax) 🧁

Strawberries (Coco)🧁

Macarons (Manny)❤️‍🔥 🖤

🧁 - fluff ❤️‍🔥- smut/sexual content 🖤 - dark

February Masterlist (other than the Valentine's drabbles)

HC for Miguel dealing with a bratty reader when he's just trying to work *18+ sexual content*

Hank loza x reader having a night in or a day off would include

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also, I'm tryna see something 👀👀👀

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

Hi and for the love of God hello 👋🏼 after going back and forth i’ve decided to try my hand at writing for the mayans boys and the sons we all know and love! Please feel free to hit up my ask box <3

Requests: Open

who i write for:

- Mayans MC

• Angel Reyes

• Ez Reyes

• Coco Cruz

• Nestor Oceteva

• Neron “Creeper” Vargas

• Bishop Losa

• Hank Loza

• Gilly Lopez

• Michael “Riz” Ariza

- Sons Of Anarchy

• Jax Teller

• Juice Ortiz

• Opie Winston

• Happy Lowman

• Herman Kozik

• Filip “Chibs” Telford

• Alexander “Tig” Trager

What i take requests for:

• Headcanons

• Preferences

• Would includes

• Most likely to’s

What i don’t take requests for:

• Smut

• Self harm of any kind - talking about the reader having a mental illness is fine but i’m not comfortable writing about them harming themselves

• Reader being related to any of the characters

• Toxic relationships - We’re all about healthy, loving relationships in this house!

any gifs used are not mine!

[michaelirby]

A Proposition

Pairing: Hank Loza x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k (whoops)

Summary: Angel, Coco, and EZ have managed to convince Hank to do the one thing he thought he'd never resort to, online dating. With the help of his three (idiotic) brothers, his tinder account is up and running. Though he expects nothing to come of it, he's open to it, especially when he comes across your profile.

Warnings: age gap (hank is in his early 40's and reader is 27), absolute fluff, Hank is a lil anxious pls give him a hug, the boys are as stupid in this as they are canonically, angst if you turn your head and squint

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a/n: this was a request from forever and a day ago that I FINALLY found inspiration to write!

“Drop it.”

His voice is gruff, annoyed at Angel for his teasing and at himself for opening up. And, of course, annoyed at the actual situation. See, Hank hasn’t dated in a while, and is fine with it. Does that mean he doesn’t want to settle down and have a woman to love and be loved by? Absolutely not. He wants those things with a passion, but he’s not going to rush it, or force it. Everything will happen when it’s meant to happen.

Angel doesn’t think so. He, Coco, and even Ez had found out about his, as they call it, ‘unfortunate situation’, and their teasing is relentless, albeit not harmful. They’re joking, only poking fun just enough to irk him but not actually hurt him. Quickly it turns into suggesting different women that they know, friends of friends, even a few hang arounds. Hank shuts them down with every suggestion, wary of anyone that chooses to hang around those (affectionately titled) morons.

As more drinks are passed around, the teasing and suggesting turned into online dating. Specifically, dating apps. Even more specifically, Tinder. And Hank immediately dismisses that idea, he knows what that app is for and he’s not really in the mood for mindless hook-up’s right now. He wants something steady, of which he tells the boys. More teasing ensues.

Eventually, after a shot or two, Coco had stolen Hank’s phone and navigated through it to the app store while Ez attempted to distract Hank long enough for Coco to download and install the god forsaken app. It doesn’t really work, because as soon as it’s downloaded, Angel is peering over Coco’s shoulders to instruct him on what Hank’s bio should say, what pictures he should choose, even the age range of potential matches.

They end up in a bit of a tousle, both of them insisting they know best. With this distraction, Hank is able to snatch his phone from Coco’s hands and look through the account they created for him. And, to give them credit, it’s not terrible. The three pictures they’d chosen showed his face (thankfully at a good angle), one full body photo, and one with friends (“to show people you’re sociable”). The information they’d given was damn near accurate, and the bio wasn’t the worst, though he knows he’s probably going to change it if he even decides to keep the account.

I work at a scrap yard and am part of an MC. If you’re lucky, I’ll take you for a ride on my harley

Not into hookups, I’m looking for a woman I could see a future with

420 friendly

And, well, he can’t really argue with it, it’s all true. It still feels weird to be doing this, to be on tinder of all things. But he decides to leave it be for now, moving his attention back to the brawl Angel and Coco are tied up in as they continue to shout about their superior dating advice.

Another round of beers comes and goes when Hank drunkenly decides to open the app and see what all the fuss is about. The tutorial they give you is pretty straight forward, and soon he’s navigating it pretty easily. He’s taking careful consideration (as careful as he can be while drunk) as to who he swipes right on, and after ten minutes it’s only come to a handful of women he thought were pretty nice. Then, a young woman’s profile pops up, the first picture is of her sitting at a picnic table, hands folded and elbows resting on the tabletop, a bright smile adorning her face with eyes that seem to pull Hank in.

The second is of her and what he assumes are her friends, huddled up against a graffitied wall and arms wrapped around each other. As he swipes through all seven photos, he seems to find more things that call to him. Scrolling down, his eyes are immediately drawn to the first sentence of her bio.

Looking for something real

That only entices him further. Truthfully, Hank really wants to swipe right, wants to ‘match’ or whatever it’s called, wants to talk to her. The only thing that’s keeping him from doing so is her age. Twenty-seven. Now, that’s not off-putting, not in the slightest, he’s just well aware that a beautiful lady like her wouldn’t be interested in a guy like him. But then again, since it won’t matter, he might as well swipe right. Right? There’s no harm in that.

Except, when he does swipe right, the screen congratulates him on his first match, and it happens to be with probably the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He’s not freaking out, of course not. He’s a grown man, can handle a beautiful woman wanting to get to know him.

But he must have reacted a certain way because Ez’s hand waves in front of his face, breaking his staring contest with his phone screen.

“What?”

“Everything alright dude? You’re lookin’ weird,'' Ez makes a face, presumably recreating his own. Then, Angel butts in, gaze going back and forth between Hank’s face and the phone before breaking out into a wide grin.

“You matched with someone, eh?” He sounds, dare he say it, excited. Like a big brother congratulating him on his first girlfriend.

Hank sputters momentarily, caught a little off guard, but quickly gets his thoughts together.

“It’s none of your business,” He snaps, moving to cradle the phone to his chest, but Coco is faster.

Coco lunges across the sofa and snatches the phone from Hank’s grasp, eyes landing on the woman’s profile, and seeing that she matched with him. Coco’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, declaring that Hank needs to text this woman immediately, all the while already typing away.

Once again, Hank reaches over and snatches his phone away, glaring at the younger man before turning back to his phone. And, oh no. Oh god no. Coco, as Hank, had sent “How ya doin pretty lady?”

A loud, deep groan rumbles in Hank’s chest, thoughts of unmatching just so he doesn’t have to see how she’d respond to that message. After a minute of thought, he decides that, no, he’s not going to do anything about it. More than likely, the woman just wouldn’t respond, probably creeped out. So, Hank leaves it be, turns his phone off and shoves it in the pocket in his kutte.

____________

Loud, boisterous giggles float through the air, the sound of multiple women cracking jokes and sharing disturbingly personal stories leaves each woman nearly in tears. One woman, you, gets distracted by a buzz. Looking to your left, you see it’s your phone. Your first instinct is to ignore it, you’re with your girls, you’re not supposed to get sucked into the world of technology.

Something in you tells you to look, and with most of the girls engrossed in Maria’s retelling of her first time, you sneak your phone into your lap and turn it on, immediately greeted by a notification that you have a new match on tinder, and a new message, presumably from that match.

Glancing up around the room, you make sure no one is looking as you unlock the phone and are greeted by the app. You’re quick to navigate through it to your messages, seeing that a man named Hank had matched with you. And you remember him, very clearly. Despite being somewhat tipsy, you could never forget his commanding stature, or his tattoos.

A small smile forms on your face. Quickly reading the message ‘How ya doin pretty lady?’, you have to suppress a giggle. You probably wouldn’t find it as funny if you were sober, but you’re not. You’re close to wasted, and that only amplifies the giddiness.

“Hey!” Someone, Maria, shouts, causing your head to shoot up and look directly into her accusatory glare. The other ladies are looking at you too, some with faux disappointment and some with humor.

“W-what?” You stutter out, immediately shutting off your phone and curling up on the couch, legs pulled up to your chest and phone hidden between your legs and stomach.

“What do you mean ‘what’? This is girl’s night! We’re not supposed to be texting any boys!” She seems exasperated, but you know, deep down, she’s not that mad about it. You are single, after all, and have been for a while. The girls have been setting you up on blind dates for about a year now, desperately trying to find a good man for you to settle down with.

“He’s not a boy!” You say indignantly, before quickly realizing your mistake of affirming her accusations.

“Well who is it then?” Angelita butts in, crossing her arms.

“Um…” You’re not sure how to respond. Of course they know you have a tinder account, they even help you decide on which men to swipe right or left on. And they also know you swiped right on Hank, it caused a huge round of the girl’s giggling at you for going after an older man.

“Is it Jon?” Maria asks, almost disgusted. She wasn’t really a fan of his profile, he just came across weird to her. But in the end, she doesn’t dictate who you like.

Quickly shaking your head, you glance back down at your phone before deciding to bite the bullet and just tell them.

“It’s Hank.”

Immediately, laughter and cheers fill the small room, all are excited for you. Maybe they could tell you seemed really interested in him, or maybe it was because this is the first guy that’s messaged you in a while, you don’t really care. They seem happy for you, so you can’t really be too mad at their harmless teasing.

“What did he say?” Angelita squeals, quickly moving to plop herself down on your right while Maria takes your left, both staring at you intently.

Sighing, you regretfully open your phone and hold it so both can read the message.

“‘How ya doin pretty lady?’” Maria says, the other ladies in the room ‘ooh-ing’. “So he thinks you're pretty!”

“Of course he does, she’s hot!” Angelita says, rather loudly. The other women offer their agreement enthusiastically.

“What are you going to say?” Another friend, Breanna, pipes up, clearly hopeful for you.

And you’re now floundering like a fish out of water, completely floored at the change of events. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to say, you’re not too sure of anything really. The wine has definitely gotten to you and, unfortunately for everyone else, that means your inhibitions are lowered.

“I’m just going to say ‘hi’, it doesn’t have to be a big thing,” You say, already knowing tonight will probably end with you embarrassing yourself.

Ignoring the whispers from the other girl’s, you turn your phone back on and, before you can talk yourself out of it, send ‘I’m doing pretty good, thanks! How are you, handsome?’

Maria squeals next to you, informing the other girl’s of what you said to him. Eventually, though, everything settles and more bottles of wine are opened, causing even more chaos. Some of your friends are chatting about their awful coworkers, some are talking about new shows they’re watching, and a few have decided to make (arguably bad) tiktok’s.

You, though, are almost completely engrossed in your phone. Of course, you’re paying attention to your friends, but your mind is definitely elsewhere. Hank had messaged you nearly ten minutes after you sent yours, and you’d been talking ever since. Standard ‘how are you’ and ‘what’s it like being in an mc?’ topics slowly turn deeper, jokes and short stories of childhood shenanigans that make you want to giggle uncontrollably.

Eventually, maybe two or three hours later, you’re ready to call it a night, to completely pass out and sleep for two days. Slowly, the girls begin to leave, and you’re soon alone in your house. And even sooner, you’ve cleaned as much as your willpower allows and collapsed onto your bed, ready to fall asleep. A ding from your phone pulls you awake, and once again you want to ignore it, but you can’t. And you’re glad you didn’t because you see a message from Hank.

“I think I’m going to head to bed, it’s been a long day.”

Smiling to yourself, you quickly type your agreement.

“Me too.”

And in a rush, you add; “I really like talking to you, I’ll text you tomorrow if that’s okay?” The faintest hint of anxiety starts to grow in your stomach, almost worried that he’ll decline the offer because he’s decided he doesn’t actually want to talk to you again. Mere minutes later, you’re greeted with another message.

“I’d love that.”

Smiling brightly, you let out an involuntary squeal, letting yourself relish the feeling of someone, a stranger, wanting to talk to you again. You’d like to think you’re personable, but insecurities can be a bitch, which is why you tend to see the worst in a situation. Maybe the wine helped with that tonight, you’re kind of glad.

____________

‘I really like talking to you, I’ll text you tomorrow if that’s okay?’

Hank’s heart is beating in his chest loudly, rattling his ribcage. This kind, funny, beautiful woman wants to get to know him? That thought sends him damn near spiraling. He chalks it up to not having dated in a while, nothing more. He refuses to acknowledge that he can feel that he’s already catching feelings for you, a woman he met on tinder of all things.

Instead, he decides to sleep it off and see if you really do text him tomorrow.

God he hopes.

And sure enough, the next morning rolls around. Around eight in the morning he receives a notification from you. Hank’s just gotten out of Templo at nearly ten-thirty, has just picked up his phone, and he’s already unlocked it to see what you sent.

‘Good morning, handsome! Hope you slept well last night :)’ accompanied by a picture of a cat, presumably the one you were declaring your undying love for last night while you were nearly blacked out.

Involuntarily, a small tug pulls at the corner of his lip, but he has to fight it so as to not alert any of his brothers. Dear God, I would never hear the end of it, he thinks as he walks towards the couches on one end of the clubhouse. When he sits down, he turns his attention back to his phone and thinks for a split second about what he should say before he gets another message.

‘Sorry if the picture was unwanted, I just thought I’d show you how cute my cat is’

Hank lets out a small huff to mask the want to laugh. Shaking his head in amusement, his fingers start flying over his screen.

‘Good morning indeed, she certainly is very cute. I slept very well actually, hope you did the same :)’

Within minutes, he receives another ping from his phone.

‘Oh good! I slept as good as can be for being drunk and having to wake up at seven this morning aha’

Hank feels himself frowning minutely, always concerned for anyone not taking care of themselves, despite doing the same sometimes (most of the time). But, he doesn’t want to come on too strong, so he pushes it down. He texts back his condolences, and then you both are on to a lighter topic.

And that’s how your days go. Messaging sporadically throughout the day and well into the night, even after you both have left your respective jobs and have settled into bed. It’s nice, Hank has to admit, to have someone outside of the MC to befriend. While he loves his brother’s unwaveringly, his life can be overwhelming to even him sometimes.

So, that’s how you both continue for the next few days, having swapped phone numbers and now messaging through text. You’ll talk and share jokes and throw flirty comments that don’t necessarily go anywhere, but definitely adds to the building tension.

But it’s not until nearly two weeks later that you decide to meet up, to have a date. Hank was the one to suggest it. Partly because he really wanted to meet the woman who has so easily captivated himself, but partly to see if he could really find romance through an app most deem only suitable for finding one-night stands.

____________

“Ugh!” You exclaim, throwing down the third dress onto the bed in frustration. That was your fifth outfit of choice, yet it still didn’t seem to be good enough for tonight. Because tonight is your date with Hank.

You both decided on a quaint little bistro on the edge of town, something not too over the top - lord knows neither of you are those types of people - but not too lowkey so as to not give the impression that Hank doesn’t want to woo you.

When he’d told you this, you nearly swooned, nearly clutched your chest to stop your heart from beating so rapidly. You’d kept your cool, of course, you didn’t want to scare off the first good thing that’s happened to you in months. But, all of that might come crashing down tonight.

“I can’t find anything to wear!”

Behind you, you hear both Maria and Angelita scoff, causing you to turn and glare at them.

“You’re already hot! Whatever you wear will knock him off of his feet,” Maria declares, reaching forward from where she’s sitting on the bed and grabbing the dark green dress. “Wear this.”

“Oh!” Angelita gets up and runs to your closet, appearing a few moments later with black flats and a thin gold belt. “Wear these too!”

And then you’re being pulled in all directions, forced to undress and then helped into the previously chosen items. Only a few minutes later, you’re being pushed in front of the mirror so you can finally see what your friends deemed ‘date worthy’. After a minute or so of twisting and twirling, you decide that it’s good enough, that Maria is right and you are hot.

“Fine, fine. This’ll work for today,” You concede, turning back to your bed and grabbing your purse and phone. “Now, I’m going to go before you two get any more ideas on what jewelry to weigh me down with.”

The girls laugh and walk you out, heading to their cars as you head to yours.

“Have fun!” Maria calls, sitting in her car with a cheek splitting grin.

“Go get you a man!” Angelita yells, already pulling out of your driveway.

And with a roll of your eyes, you get in your car as well, settling your nerves before backing out of your garage and heading to the bistro.

____________

Hank’s leg has been bouncing for the last five minutes, he’s leaning forward with his arms resting on the table, nearly buzzing with anticipation and anxiety. Logically, there’s no need to be anxious, he’s a grown man for god’s sake. Even if you turn out to be different in person than through text, he knows how to let people down calmly. He doesn’t think he’ll have to do that tonight, though.

But he can’t help it, he’s nervous. Call it ‘first date jitters’ or whatever, but he’s come to realize just how badly he wants to settle down. Speaking with you has been wonderful, and while it’s not yet guaranteed that he’ll settle down with you, this did reinvigorate his thoughts of love, of children, of a home filled with happiness.

And so, today, he’s decided to try and go for it, to try to open up to someone and let someone in. And despite you both having only been talking for two weeks, something in his gut tells him that you could be good for him, good to him. And that’s what’s got him so on edge, feeling like he could potentially meet the woman that’s made for him. Perhaps he knew it even earlier than today, he just wasn’t ready to accept that he’s caught such strong feelings without having ever met the person.

But again, he’s going to try tonight, to listen to Angel - within reason - and actually look for the love he deserves.

A small ‘ding’ sounds through the almost empty bistro, and Hank lifts his head to find one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, you. And luckily, you do appear to be who you claimed to be. And as you walk towards him, a soft smile on your face and a clearly flushed face, Hank can’t help but reciprocate the smile, heart already settling at finally being able to see you.

“Hank?”

And your voice, oh so beautiful and soft, stirs up something in his chest that he could only describe as infatuation.

Yeah, Angel might have been right. Maybe this will be good for him.

[bucksangel]

Guiding Light Pt. 1

Pairing: Hank Loza x Reader (no descreption of body type or race is mentioned)

Summary: It's time, Hank decides, to finally ask you out, and he's praying upon every God that exists that you say 'yes'.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: mention of injury and blood (the reader cuts their hand accidentally), hank also likes to bake and I will die on this hill, Hank being nervous, fluff out the ass

part 1 part 2 part 3

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a/n: hank loza is my husband and if anyone has any requests they'd like to send in, feel free to send me an ask!

tag list: @melaniecraig80 @withmyteeth (i’m tagging you bc you’re my biggest support and ily)

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

“You okay, Hank?”

The question goes in one of his ears and straight out of the other, it’s like he’s stopped listening to anything all together. If Hank was being honest, he truly didn’t register your question, he’s too far in his own head. About you, no less. Now, that’s definitely not a bad thing, but it feels… wrong. Sure, you’re a little younger than him, but that’s not what really bothers him. No, it’s the fact that you’re his friend (he’d even go as far to say you’re his best friend), and he can’t shake the thoughts of wanting more, wanting you to himself.

It’s frustrating, kind of. Hank loves being your friend, he cherishes the dynamic you have, but god does he want more. You’re kind and beautiful and head-strong and it was so easy for Hank to fall for you. And although he in no way would ever pressure you to be with him, he just can’t help thinking about if you were together. What if you do like him? What if he could call you his? What if he was yours?

He’s getting too ahead of himself, though. He hasn’t even asked you out, nor has he told you about his feelings. But, again, he’s too far in his own head, thinking himself to death over what could be. It’s not until a hand, soft and chilled due to holding a beer, rests on his forearm that Hank whips his head to his right where you’re sitting on the couch, facing him.

“Are you okay? You spaced out for a minute,” You say, smiling. It takes his breath away with how effortlessly you make him nervous, giddy, happy even. His heartbeat picks up a tad more when you swing your legs up to lay over his lap.

You two have always been close like this, and Hank suspects it’s because you’re like this with a lot of people (not a lot of people actually, but he pretends so as to not get his hopes up). Resting a large and warm hand on your calf, he massages the area gently while laughing softly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just thinking,” Hank smiles back at you and squeezes your shin. And there must be something in the way he spoke, or maybe it was his demeanor, but you don’t push further. He’s glad for that, he’s not ready to tell you about his feelings nor is he good at lying to you.

“Okay,” You whisper, nodding your head a tad before leaning your head to the side to rest against the couch cushion. Curious and loving eyes stare back at Hank, and he holds your gaze for what feels like an hour. Realistically it may have been only a minute, but he tends to get lost when he’s looking at you, like he can’t comprehend that you actually enjoy his company.

The story you were telling earlier gets brought back up again and Hank doesn’t hear a word of it. He nods and smiles every once in a while, but he knows that you can tell he’s not all the way here. You keep talking anyway, and Hank is thankful for the excuse to focus on you completely, and he thinks he wants to live in this moment forever, to keep you on his couch, in his arms, talking about anything and everything.

The night eventually ends, though, and as always, both of you are disappointed to be parting ways. It has to be done, seeing as you both have too many obligations tomorrow to be talking the night away. The only good thing about parting ways, Hank thinks, is how you hug him. It’s different than how you greet him, those are typically quicker and with excitement of seeing each other again. These hugs, the goodbye hugs, are a little longer, more intimate. Hank’s arms are wrapped tight around your body, his chin resting on your head, and he thinks of how perfectly you fit in his arms, how you were made to be in his arms.

As per your goodbye ritual, when you pull away from each other you lean up to place a soft kiss to his cheek. And just like every time you kiss his cheek, his face flushes and warmth fills his body.

You pull back, dragging your hand down his arm before fully pulling away to go to your car. Included in this goodbye ritual is Hank walking you to your car with his hand resting gently on your back while you fiddle with your fingers. Your car is parked all the way across the lot (and Hank is very grateful for the extra minute that walk provides), so you’re able to talk a little while longer. Except, tonight you walk to the car in silence, something (tension, maybe) hangs in the air.

When you do get to your car, you’re slow to turn around and face Hank, a nervous smile on your lips and something akin to anxiousness in your eyes. Hank continues to smile at you, that same soft, warm smile that seems to only be for you. His hand moves from your back to squeeze your hip before dropping his hand all together.

And Hank feels something blooming in his chest, an incredibly strong want, a need, to pour his entire heart out to you. It’s almost overwhelming, this is the right time, he thinks, now or never. This feeling spreads throughout his entire body, enough so that he opens his mouth to speak. It just so happens that you move to speak at the same time as well.

“I wanted-”

“I need to-”

Both of you laugh, the nerves still ever present. Hank makes a bold move by grabbing your hand in his, rubbing the back of your hand as he says, “Ladies first.”

This makes you laugh and lightly slap his chest with your free hand. He sees hesitancy on your face and Hank is sure you’re about to drop some kind of bomb on him. Instead, it’s a nervous, “I should be getting home.” And Hank’s heart sinks into his stomach, the one time he mans up enough to actually tell you and you’re leaving before he gets that chance.

“Of course. Goodnight, querida,” He whispers, nodding his head as he drops your hand to open your car door for you. But you stop him before he moves to the side to let you into your car.

You place another kiss on Hank's cheek, but this time you linger a little longer, pulling back a millimeter or so to whisper, “Goodnight, Hank.”

Hank’s eyes close, his heart hammers in his chest so fast that he thinks he might actually pass out. Suddenly, he’s warm all over, the feeling of your body pressed against his, no matter how brief, is something he’ll never get used to.

And then, you’re gone, driving into the night towards your home, leaving Hank to stare into space wishing on every star that he’ll get another chance.

_________

It’s the next evening and Hank is at his mother’s for their weekly Sunday dinner. Tonight, he’s working on seasoning up some steaks while his mother works on the rice and vegetables that would accompany it. They chatter about nonsense while they work in tandem, his mother slapping his arm every so often when he picks up a wrong seasoning.

He’ll admit, he’s a little spacey tonight. The night before is still so clear in his head, the way your lips felt against his cheek still sends shivers down his spine and brings a smile to his face. Maybe he’s a little too spacey, though, because the third time Hank goes for the wrong spice his mother says, “It’s that girl again, isn’t it?”

Hank’s head shoots up from where he’d been staring intensely at the meat. With the smirk on her face and the glint in her eyes, he knows he’s been caught. Not only can he not lie to you, he definitely can’t lie to his mother (partly out of respect, partly out of fear). So, slowly, he nods his head, his face heating up while he goes out back to put the meat on the grill, desperately trying to avoid the conversation that his mother wants to have.

“What are you waiting for?” She asks, following him outside, determined to get through to her son. The exasperation in her tone makes it clear she’s been keeping up with the situation and is just as frustrated as her son that he hasn’t done anything about it.

“We’re just friends, mama,” He mumbles, and he feels like a teenager again, having his mother encourage him to make the move on the girl he likes. And just like every time before, he knows she’ll win this fight.

“We both know that isn’t true,” She scoffs in disbelief, lightly hitting Hank’s arm so he would look at her. “You like her. She likes you. I don’t really see the problem here.”

“She doesn’t…” Hank trails off, his head filled with doubt at his mothers words. “She doesn’t like me like that, and I’m okay with that. I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship because I can’t control my feelings.” The pain in his heart swells, but he pushes them down so he can smile at his mother, hoping to convince her to drop the subject.

She stares him down for a minute, her eyes squinting in thought before she smiles wide. “You were going to tell her yesterday, weren’t you?”

Hank groans, genuinely confused at how well his mother can be this intuitive (as a boy, he used to think his mother could read minds and he’s still not totally convinced that she can’t). His head tilts back so he can look at the sky, momentarily wishing this wasn’t happening right now. But, since it is, he looks back down to his mother and nods sheepishly.

“Well,” She starts, making Hank groan internally, “If you mustered up the courage to try last night then you can do it again tomorrow.” And Hank’s already shaking his head, adamant that he doesn’t think he can. Another slap lands on his arm, and his mother places her hands to cup her son’s cheeks. “Mijo, if you don’t do something about this, then I will.”

And that’s the end of that discussion, Hank knows full well that his mother would, in fact, do something about it and it would end in her embarrassing him. So he resigns himself to nodding.

“Good, now finish up, I’m hungry.” She turns quickly and walks back into the house to continue preparing the sides.

“Yes, mama,” Hank says, a million thoughts running through his head as to how in the world he’s going to do this.

__________

Now, it’s not entirely unusual for Hank to show up at your door on a Monday, nor is it out of the ordinary for him to come unexpectedly, but today is different. His palms are sweaty and his heart is hammering in his chest as he walks up to your porch. He’s stood still for a minute, thinking of all the different ways tonight could go wrong. What if you say no? What if you kick him out? What if he loses you forever?

It’s ridiculous, Hank knows this. No matter how you feel about him, he knows you’d never push him out of your life. Still, the thought lingers in the back of his head. And before he can psych himself out of tonight, he knocks on your door. His breathing has stopped for the full thirty seconds it takes you to open your door, and it’s stopped for another thirty seconds as he takes you in.

Donned in a flowery summer dress and a light red apron, you smile wide when your eyes land upon Hank. He wrings his hands as he smiles back at you, but quickly lets them drop and wrap around you when you step forward to hug him.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” You exclaim squeezing his body tight to yours before stepping back and ushering him into your house.

“I know,” Hank says, volume a little louder than a whisper. “I was in the area so I wanted to stop by, if that’s okay.” Internally, he cringes. In the area is a poor and cliché excuse, but he’d only prepared for his confession, not for how or why he’s here at seven pm on a Monday.

It makes you chuckle, probably because you’re thinking the same thing. “Don’t be silly, you know I enjoy being with you.” You’re leading him into the kitchen with your back turned to him (and you’re thankful for that so he wouldn’t have seen the embarrassed look on your face because of your phrasing).

Hearing you affirm that you do enjoy his company brings a whole new kind of warmth to spread throughout his chest. He knows that tonight is going to be the night, he’d be damned to let anything get in the way.

“I was about to make some brownies if you want to help, I’ve already eaten dinner but there’s leftovers in the fridge that you’re welcome to.” You move towards the counter where, even though you haven’t even started baking, flour has somehow spilled onto it. Hank takes you in, your hair pulled back out of your face and your eyes scanning the instructions on your phone with such concentration that it makes him laugh.

After about a minute of watching you struggle with which ingredients to mix first, Hank walks to your side and leans over your shoulder to read the directions himself. They’re simple enough for him to understand (and he will never let his brother’s find out, but he does enjoy baking from time to time), so he reaches around you to grab the flour and measuring cup.

You turn your head to look back at him with a puzzling look, and Hank doesn’t miss the way your lips quirk up into a small smile. “What are you doing there?” You ask, humor evident in your tone.

“I’m a baking connoisseur,” He laughs, but lets it fade slowly as he realizes the proximity between you two. He’s nearly pressed into your side, one arm reaching around you to hold onto the flour, and his hand resting on your back so as to not jostle you with his movements.

Both of you go silent, staring into each other’s eyes, breathing shallowly while tension slowly encompasses your living space. For a brief moment, Hank swears he saw your eyes flicker down to his lips before quickly snapping back to his own eyes.

This tension is broken a moment later, you smile at him and nudge his stomach with your elbow, nodding towards the ingredients. “Okay then Mr. Baking Connoisseur, show me what you got.”

And then, Hank is measuring and pouring and mixing, all while you watch and listen to him explain the steps to follow in order to make, in his words, ‘the best brownies you’ll ever eat’. You’re watching him carefully, handing him the ingredients as he needs them, and smiling at how passionate he seems to be. It’s beautiful, really, to see how much joy something as simple as baking can bring him. You can tell he’s not the most comfortable in this situation, but you chalk it up to him not liking being this vulnerable (which is a lie, he wears his heart on his sleeve for only you to see).

After the batter is mixed and the pans are greased, you both place the two batches of brownies in the oven and set your sights on cleaning up the mess you’ve made (the mess he made, you hardly did anything but admire him). In tandem, both of you clean the counters and put the ingredients in their respective spots, and Hank realizes that this right here, this level of understanding and flow, is where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be with you doing the most mundane and domestic activities while you chatter about your day.

Hank feels what he felt on Saturday, the overwhelming need to kiss you and profess his love. This momentum is quickly squashed because a split second after you’d just moved the dishes to the sink, you’re crying out in pain and holding your hand close to your chest. Hank can see a small amount of blood trickle down your wrist, so he surges forward and moves your hand under the running water, making sure to put pressure on your wound.

“What happened, amor?” Due to the severity of the situation, Hank doesn’t even register the pet name he let slip, he’s more focused on getting your hand to stop bleeding.

“Um, I-” You stutter, yelling out again when he presses harder. The blood flow has slowed down though, so that’s a plus. “I put the dishes in the sink and I - I think I cut my hand on the knife that was still in there.” And now you’re cursing yourself for not cleaning those dishes before you’d started baking.

“It’s okay, just keep your hand there while I find a bandage,” Then he’s off, running into your bathroom to get the first-aid kit he insisted you put under the sink (because lord knows you’re too clumsy for your own good). When he does get back, your hand is still under the water and he can see tears pooling in your eyes, presumably from the pain.

Hank freezes for a moment, too overwhelmed with the need to comfort you, to hold you in his arms and take away any pain you’ve ever felt. But he shakes those thoughts from his head so he can pull your hand towards him. The bleeding has now almost completely stopped, but that doesn’t stop Hank from rubbing a small amount of soap around the area and washing that off so he can wrap a bandage around your hand.

You’ve calmed down now, the shock from cutting your hand fades away as you stare up at Hank, who is securing the bandage in place. He’s focused, and very careful to not hurt you anymore than you already are. Something in him tells him to look up, and he’s met with your warm and inviting gaze and your mouth parted slightly.

Everything seems to go silent around you, the sound of running water fades into the background as you both stare into each other’s eyes, Hank’s hands encompassing your wounded one and cradled against his chest. It’s all too much, this overwhelming need to kiss you, to kiss you with so much passion and care and love, that it almost breaks his heart that he can’t.

“Queri-” Hank is cut off by you pushing against him, your wounded hand clutching his and your good hand grasping his arm so you can angle your head up and press your lips to his.

He’s floored, utterly and completely astounded at your boldness, and at the fact that you’ve done all the hard work for him. Now he doesn’t have to wonder about how you feel about him, he doesn’t have to worry himself to death over the what if’s, because now you’re kissing him. And then, he’s kissing you back, his lips parting and moving against yours with such synchronicity that it’s amazing you haven’t done this before.

One large and warm hand cups the back of your neck, not squeezing, just resting and pressing you further into him so he can part his mouth and tease your lips with his tongue. This causes you to whimper into his mouth and pull him closer, and god Hank has never heard a sound more beautiful than the ones you emit while completely entranced in the way he tastes.

Breaking away too soon for his liking, he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing a little labored due to how winded the kiss made him. With his eyes still closed, maybe because he’s afraid to look at you in fear that you do reject him, he speaks softly, “Could I take you out?”

“Like, a date?” You ask, voice timid and slightly shaky as you pull back so you can look at him, really look at him. With your close proximity, Hank can feel how fast your heart is beating, he can see how your eyes glimmer, and he can feel the love surrounding you both.

Hank chuckles softly, nodding his head as he speaks, “Yeah, exactly like a date.” Your smile grows wide, your eyes crinkle, and your good hand travels up his arm to cradle his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek.

You lean against him once more and press your lips to his. This kiss is soft and chaste, your lips hovering over his as you whisper, “Of course I will.”

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Title Mark You Up

Gif credit @angels-reyes

Requested by @leaalfred. I hope you like it thanks for requesting.

Happy reading dollies.

Taglist, @nocturnalherb16. @jesseswartzwelder. @leaalfred. @twistnet. @mayans-mc @ilovetaquitosmmmm . @baylishh

You had just finished up the last part of dishes that had been sitting in the sink for a week now. You'd asked Tranq to do them or even put them in the dishwasher since he was at home more than you were nowadays. But he seemed to busy to do any house work.

"I was going to do them". A tired voice startled you as you put the plate on the drying rack and wiped your hands with the towel before turning around to see Hank standing there.

"I asked you to do them four days ago so dont give me that bullshit that you were going to do them". You huffed crossing your arms.  

"I've been busy and I was going to get around to doing them".

"I've been busy too but I did them".

"Yeah, I know. You're always busy".

"What's that supposed to mean"?

"You've been spending a lot of time with your boss. Is what I mean".

"I'm trying to start up another chain of stores. I'm busy. You said you were fine with that".

"I was, until I see that you're spending all your time with him alone in his office. You're coming home late, not wanting me to touch you. You haven't touched me in four weeks. Are you fucking him"? You were taken back a lot, stunned was the right word. Shocked that Hank would even think that you would do that to him.

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that? I would never cheat on you, never.  I can't believe we're actually having this conversation right now".

"Are you"?

"No. You mean more to me than anything in this world. I would quit my job for you if that means anything. I have been there since I got out of high school, I've worked my way to the top and I would throw it away for you. That's how much I'm not cheating on you".

"Then have I done something to make you not want me? Have I changed or gain weight"? Tranq looked down at his boots, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

"You haven't done nothing. I want you everytime I see you. I'm in love with you and your body. There's nothing I want more then to have you naked in my bed making love to you". You walked over to Tranq and wrapped your arms around him.

"Then what's going on"?

"I'm tired. I have worked six days a week, fifteen hour days and then I come home to clean. Its exhausting. Not to mention that my mental health with my boss is not doing good. I really want to throw him off the top of the building some days".

"You want me to do it? I will". Hank threatened which made you giggle into his chest.

"Thanks but no. I can't have you leaving me for prison".

"I'm sorry, I accused you of cheating. Will you forgive me"?

"Take me to bed, Hank". You kissed his lips rough. He picked you up grabbing your ass, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom up stairs. Hank squeezed your ass before laying you down on the bed. He stepped back removing his kutte and clothes. You quickly stripped from your pjs throwing them to the floor. Your breath hitched as Hanks cock sprung out of his boxers. He was rock hard. It made your mouth water and your pussy soaking wet.

"Get over here and fuck me Hank". You motioned for him with your index finger. He let out a howl and jump on the bed. Hovering over your body. You ran your hand over his head.

"I love you". Hank pecked your lips.

"I love you too much. Now put that big fat cock in me". Hank didn't hesitate, he grabbing his cock, slipped it between your lips gathering your juices and eased in. The way he filled you up, it was like his cock was made for you.

"Oh my god. It gets better and better every time we have sex". You bit your lip as Hank started moving his hips. Rubbing up and down his back you gave his butt a quick smack while giggling. Hank turned his head and looked at your hand then back to you. You couldn't stop laughing.

"Oh, that's how you want to play, huh"? Hank rolled over pulling you on top of him. You didn't sink down on his right away, you teased the tip, rubbing your clit with it as you hovered over him.

Hank grabbed your throat gently but with authority. "Down, all the way". You did as you were told. Rocking your hips at a faster pace then Hank did before.

"That's it, take daddy's cock like a good little girl. Make all the men jealous that its not their cocks you're riding". Hank growled, one hand around your throat and the other squeezing your breast like it was a flotation device as you rode him.

His cock was out of this world, you loved it so much. But it was starting to get to you. The orgasm was building inside you. Hank smirked as he saw you were trying to hold it but he knew what to do to send you over the edge. His hand snaked down to your clit. His thumb pressed hard against it doing circles.

"You going to cum on this dick, babygirl"? You moaned nodding but Hank didn't like that. He took his hand off your throat and slapped both of your breasts then brought his hand around your throat again squeezing harder this time.

"Answer me". He sternly said.

"Yes, daddy. Can I come"? You were on the brink of exploding.

"You may". Hanks sunk his teeth into your shoulder, leaving bite marks and hickeys for you to try and cover up. Your walls clenched around his cock as you rocked your hips faster. Your hands steadied yourself on Hanks chest. His grip loosened up on your throat but his clit work was just the start. Your first orgasm hit you but Hank gave you another one right behind it. Your legs were shaking and your eyes rolled. It was one of his best.

"That's it. That's a good girl". He praised you. After the intense orgasms you collapsed on Hanks chest, panting and hot.

"Fucking hell". You whispered out. Hank smirked and ran his hands up and down your back.

"Was it good"? The stupidest question ever asked by Hank after sex.

"You're a god". Hank snickered as you kissed his chest.

"Are you tired"?

"Very". You sigh happily as you rolled off Hank covering yourself with the sheet.

"To bad, you have work tomorrow I have more places to mark you up. This boss and every guy in there needs to know you belong to me".

"Hank, this hickey with let them know. You showing up at my work threatening them will show them. They're scared already".

"Not enough". He shook his head.

"Fine. Show me what you got". You threw the sheet off and opened your legs.

"You're not going to be able to walk for a week". Hank dove in cock first. He was going to make sure that no man thought about you or even came near you. You were his and his only.

[jennisdirtyimagines]

Hey!

I would like to write something but I don't have any idea what. So, I'm asking if anyone has any ideas/requests, that you want me to write about? I write smut (kinky and "vanilla" stuffs), fluff, angst etc.

Who I write about (at the moment, if you want me to write someone else, ask and I let you know do I write about him):

Peaky Blinders

- Tommy Shelby

- John Shelby

- Arthur Shelby

- Alfie Solomons

- Luca Changretta

- Michael Gray

Game of thrones

- Tywin Lannister

- Sandor

Vampire diaries -

- Atm I don't have any inspiration about writing anyone from this

Mayans MC/ Sons of Anarchy

- Bishop Losa

- Hank Loza

- Miguel Galindo

- Nestor Oceteva

- Chibs Telford

- Happy Lowman

Chicago PD /Fire/ Med

- Hank Voight

Vikings

- Harald Finehair

- Halfdan the Black

- Björn Ironside

Outlander

- Ian Fraser Murray

- Dougal Mackenzie

- Jamie Fraser

[drabbles-mc]

Drabbles-MC Masterlist

Because of the link limit, each character now has their own link on this post that leads to a separate post. But this is still where to go to find all of my fics!

(You can also go HERE to find me on AO3)

Fic-list under the cut!

👀 = smut, 💔 = angst

Mayans MC Characters:

- EZ Reyes Fics

- Angel Reyes Fics

- Bishop Losa Fics

- Coco Cruz Fics

- Nestor Oceteva Fics

- Neron “Creeper” Vargas Fics

- Hank Loza Fics

- Gilly Lopez Fics

- Marcus Alvarez Fics

- Che "Taza" Romero Fics

Michael “Riz” Ariza Fics:

- Reckless

- Wipeout

Miguel Galindo Fics:

- Business Trip

- Withered 💔

Guero Fics:

- Always Here Anyway

Canche Fics:

- Trustfall

Sons of Anarchy Characters:

- Herman Kozik Fics

- Opie Winston Fics

- Filip “Chibs” Telford Fics

- Jax Teller Fics

- Juice Ortiz Fics

- Happy Lowman Fics

- David Hale Fics

- Alexander “Tig” Trager Fics

- SOA/Mayans MC Headcanons

Narcos/Narcos: Mexico Characters:

- Javier Peña Fics

- Horacio Carrillo Fics

- Steve Murphy Fics

- Walt Breslin Fics

- Amado Carrillo Fuentes Fics

- Isabella Bautista Fics

- The Diegoverse Fics: A Series of OG Narcos OC Universes

- Hugo Martinez Fics

- Chepe Santacruz Fics

María Elvira Fics:

- Favors Owed 👀

Danilo Garza:

- Things Like That 👀

Amat Palacios Fics:

- Just A Bad Feeling 💔

Officer Trujillo Fics:

- Looking On

Andrea Nuñez Fics:

- At Your Service

Sal Orozco Fics:

- Cómo Puedo Ayudar?

Enedina Arellano Félix Fics:

- Adamant

Jorge Salcedo Fics:

- Debts Paid

Other Fandoms:

- MCU Fics

- The Bear Fics

- The Bikeriders Fics

- Top Gun Maverick Fics

- Suicide Squad Fics

- Kingsman Fics

- John Wick Fics

- Altered Carbon Fics

- Outer Banks Fics

- Stranger Things Fics

- Silent Night Fics:

- Speaking Volumes (Brian Godlock x F!Reader)

- Better Call Saul Fics:

- Should’ve Seen It Coming (Nacho Varga x F!Reader) 💔

- Fresh Start (Gabriela Castillo x Nacho Varga) [Crossover]

- House MD Fics:

- Not to Spoil the Ending (Robert Chase x Greg House)

- At Least (Greg House x James Wilson)

- Bullet Train Fics:

- Pretty and Unscathed (Carver x Ladybug)

- Emily the Criminal Fics:

- Waking Hours (Youcef Haddad x GN!Reader)

- Law & Order: SVU Fics:

- Stomping Grounds (Mike Duarte x F!Reader)

- On the Ledge (Mike Duarte x GN!Reader)

- Our Flag Means Death Fics:

- Retelling the Story (Stede Bonnet x Edward Teach)

- Here We Are (Stede Bonnet x Edward Teach)

- F.R.I.E.N.D.S Fics

- The One Where It’s The Right Time (Joey Tribbiani x Rachel Green)

[crowfootwrites]

crowfootwrites masterlist

18+ / NSFW / Smut pieces marked with 🔥

Star Trek Works:

New Arrival [Odo (ST:DS9) x Fem!Reader]

Devotion & Diplomacy [Daro (ST:TNG) x OFC] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX 🔥

Diel [Taurik (ST:TNG) x Fem!Reader]

Warm Welcome [Neelix (ST:VOY) x GN!Reader]

Eaha’le [Senator Kimara Cretak (ST:DS9) x GN!Reader]

What Happens on Risa [Gul Macet (ST:TNG) x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist [various ST characters] 🔥

Stardew Valley Works:

December Drabbles [All Characters, currently updating]

Mayans MC Works:

The Boyfriend [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Bruises [Nestor Oceteva X Fem!Reader] | Part I | Part II

Hair [Nestor Oceteva x Reader] (Drabble)

Hoodie [Coco Cruz x Fem!Reader] (Drabble)

It’s Easy [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

June Drabbles [All Characters, unfinished]

Los Guardianes [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

Mayans Take Their Kids Trick-or-Treating | Headcanon

Nightmare [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader]

PTA [Creeper Vargas x Reader]

Safety [Nestor Oceteva x Reader]

Show Off [Angel Reyes x Fem!Reader]

Softer [Hank Loza x Reader]

Study Buddy [Coco Cruz x Reader]

Sugar [Miguel Galindo x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Suspension [Gilly Lopez x Fem!Reader]

Together [Bishop Losa x Fem!Reader]

Undone [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Sons of Anarchy Works:

Ache [Juice Ortiz x Reader]

Assumptions [Chibs Telford x Fem!Reader] 🔥

The Dream [Chibs Telford x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Memories [Bobby Munson x Reader]

Rough Night [Tig Trager x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit Works

The Bath [Rafael Barba x Reader]

A Night on the Town [Rafael Barba x OC] 🔥

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

friends? no.

© @sonsofeorl

HANK ‘TRANQ’ LOZA.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @queenbeered: Dear Aurora, you gorgeous, amazing queen. I absolutely love your prompts list, so many fun ideas and I can't wait to see what you come up with. Can I please request number one on your smut list with Hank? Need some big guy in my life. 😘😘😘

❝ prompt: “Friends? No, I don’t think so. Friends don’t know the way you taste”.

❝ words: about 1.2k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids, language.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

“Friends?”

Tranq hasn't given you a chance to welcome him when his question has been launched as soon as you've opened the front door of your house. He has a shoulder rested against the frame, frowning. His chest falls and rises a little bit furious, breathing through his nostrils as he glances at you. Needing a couple of seconds to figure out what he is talking about, you tilt your head like a confused dog, sticking out the spoon stained with ice cream from your mouth.

“You told Mariela we are friends?”

“Oh, oh… oh”. Now you get it. “Aren't we?”

“Friends? No, I don’t think so. Friends don’t know the way you taste”.

Hank comes in without needing an invitation, grabbing the spoon to throw it somewhere and kicking the door close. He's angry. He's going to put it on you and you aren't going to complain. Briefly squatting, he places his huge and strong hands around the back of your thighs, to push you onto his body. Tranq collides his lips on yours, invading your mouth with his playful and keen tongue, drinking a raspy gasp that borns in your throat.

Yes, you told that girl that you were only friends because you weren't anything else than relief for each other in the small hours. You've been in love with him ever since —I mean, how couldn't you? You let him enter your life, you helped him whenever he needed it, but you weren't expecting him to have the same sentiments. Apparently, you have been wrong the whole time.

The Mexican sits on your sofa keeping you on your lap, as his hands squeeze your ass with so much desire contained about to show you what's the real thing between the two of you. “Stopped being friends the first time you moaned my name, sweetheart”.

Hank is so hard under the rough fabric of his jeans that the friction is causing your brain to collapse. He is forcing you to swing your hips, needing to hear those sweets noises you can't control anytime he gives you all his attention. Commonly, he's the lovable man on earth. He worships you —your body—, he takes his time, he pushes your limits with so much tenderness that you can't live without him anymore. But your insecurities have killed you anytime you've compared yourself with Mariela. An exuberant woman with charisma and power beaming. How could you compete against her?

The metallic noise his belt being undone provokes brings you back to reality. The sweetest melody on earth. Pulling yourself away with a lack of oxygen more than evident, you stand up on your bare feet to strip yourself. It doesn't take you too long, at all times under his lustful dark gaze, watching you toss your t-shirt somewhere and pull your panties down by your thighs. Tranq only rolls his jeans and boxers to his ankles; he knows about that kink you have of being fully naked for him while he's still on that leather kutte you love.

“Com'ere”. He demands whilst pumping himself with his right hand, using the left to grab your wrist and push you on top of him.

You can't help but giggle in a low tone, cutting off your laughs with an unexpected deep thrust. He has pressed your body down, practically impaling you with all his length. And he is big. He's too big. You normally need a couple of seconds to adjust your walls to his hard dick, but this time Hank is mad, very mad at you. The bitter sensation he has been carrying the whole day from one side to another because you said you are only friends, has made him feel angrier as the time has passed by till meeting you again.

He doesn't let you breathe. He doesn't let you mold your soaked pussy to his thickness. He forces you to swing your hips back and forth, dancing and bouncing over his cock. His huge fingers are nailed in your skin as he has reclined his back on the sofa, having a better view of your breasts jumping slightly with every move. Tranq loves every inch of your body, but these two are his favorite part. He could spend hours sleeping on them —or sucking, biting, licking, playing with them.

As his chest falls and rises breathless, his grunts fill your living room creating a filthy song with your moan and your pleas. Putting your hands on both sides of his neck, leaning forward a little, you devour his lips as the pace becomes faster and deeper. There's no man who can make you feel this good, this fill, this satisfied. There's no man who can give you the pleasure Tranq gives you. You both know it. And there's no man who can treat you better than him —with so much carelessness, love and adoration.

You know you won't last for too long as every pound is well-aimed to your g-spot, making you cry out his name whenever he forces you to go more downward. He knows exactly what he's doing. Giving you a lesson. Making you desire him more and more, so you won't dare again in your life to say that you're only friends.

And before you can react, Tranq has turned your bodies in such a master move, pinning your back to the sofa without pulling himself out from you. Now, he's between your legs, buried deep inside you as much as he can. A hand pulling your hair, five fingers gripping your throat, a tongue invading your mouth and his twitching huge cock splitting your tight cunt in two. Your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, while Tranq continues drinking your begs asking for more, and more, and more.

You're closer than you think of cumming, not needing anything else in life right now. And as his pushes become rougher, hitting your guts with no mercy, you let yourself go with a loud and pleased whining.

“Shit… that's it, preciosa… cream my dick… c'mon”. Hank grunts onto your ear, not stopping until he can release his own seed straight to your soul.

You feel filled by a warm sensation, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him down; inside you, deeper. That's the best sensation after a quickly with him. Spend some more seconds with Tranq balls-buried into you, with all his weight over your body as he tries to catch back his breathing. Then, the soft mood comes back. He's not annoyed anymore, although he's still not understanding why you said what you said. Hank spreads sloppy kisses all around your face, tiredly stroking the sides of your thighs while he goes just a little more deeper causing you to moan against his neck.

“You feel it, ah?” He whispers huskily, caressing your ear with the tip of his nose. “This dick is only yours… Can you feel it, mi amor?”

You nod your head exhausted, tightening the grip around his waist. You want him closer. You want to melt your bodies into the same anatomy. You need him all the time; physical and psychologically. It's something that you can't explain, but you can't get rid of either.

“Good… Don't make me explain it twice”.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @tclaerh @aurelie-celine

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

new and improved list

Hi and for the love of God hello 👋🏼 I’m very happy to announce that i’ll be adding the Ted Lasso characters to the list! Feel free to hit up my ask box if you have a request or just want to talk about the boys or any of the shows i’m writing for <3

Requests: Open

Characters i write for:

- Ted Lasso

• Ted Lasso

• Coach Beard

• Roy kent

• Jamie Tartt

• Dani Rojas

• Richard Montlaur

• Sam Obisanya

• Isaac McAdoo

• Thierry Zoreaux

• Jan Maas

• Moe Bumbercatch

• Will Kitman

• Rebecca Welton

• Keeley Jones

- Mayans Mc

• Angel Reyes

• Ez Reyes

• Coco Cruz

• Nestor Oceteva

• Bishop Losa

• Neron “Creeper” Vargas

• Hank Loza

• Michael “Riz” Ariza

• Gilly Lopez

• Miguel Galindo

- Sons of anarchy

• Jax Teller

• Juan “Juice” Ortiz

• Opie Winston

• Happy Lowman

• Filip “Chibs” Telford

• Herman Kozik

• Alexander “Tig” Trager

What i take requests for:

• Headcanons

• Preferences

• Would Includes

• Most likely Tos

• Mood boards/Povs

What i do not take requests for:

• Smut

• Self harm of any kind - Talking about the reader having a mental illness is fine but i’m not comfortable writing about them harming themselves

• Reader being related to any of the characters on the list

• Toxic relationships - We’re all about healthy, loving relationships in this house!

[michaelirby]

In The Rain

Pairing: Hank Loza x non-descript f!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Request from @happyvibesssblog: My request is y/n and hank loza have an heated argument and he leaves to cool of before y/n can tell him she is pregnant but when he comes back they make up and he is so happy very fluffy and maybe if you feel like you can add some smut....thank you

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst for about half the story but it turns fluffy, fluff, pregnancy, reader having anxiety

a/n: I'm always accepting requests so if you have any ideas, send them my way!

It’s chilly outside, not quite cold but not quite warm either. It makes for a good night to actually be outside, except for the clouds looming overhead, quickly consuming the sky and threatening to drench everything in its path. Still, it’s nice to just sit and relish in the cool temperature until it does decide to rain. Not for you though, you’re shivering with anxiety and hurt.

It’s currently 11:42 at night, and you’re sitting on your porch steps, alone and scared. It’s been nearly three hours since Hank had left, nearly three hours of worrying and thinking yourself to death. Your phone lies on the concrete steps next to you, dark screen facing upwards and sound turned on so you can see when Hank calls.

He hasn’t yet. You’ve called Bishop, Taza, anyone connected to him to try and find your boyfriend. What’s strange and, quite frankly, unsettling is that no one has told you where he is, where he could be. You’ve debated driving around to look for him, then decided that letting him cool off and come to you was the best decision. And while you stand by that, it doesn’t stop your mind from racing with a million thoughts.

Most of these thoughts consist of you berating yourself, why did you have to yell at him? Why did you bring your work problems home with you? Why couldn’t you have been more patient and understanding with Hank? His mom is sick for God’s sake!

Truthfully, you’re not angry at, nor do you blame, Hank for reacting the way he did. He’d done nothing wrong, you were the one who exploded. You’d had an entire week of bad events piling up until, today, you burst, exploded with rage at the one man who’s done nothing but love you unconditionally. That’s what hurts you the most, that you took out your frustrations on Hank with little regard for himself or his own troubles.

And, sure, you’ve had arguments in the past, but he’s never left the house. He’d go to another room or to the backyard, he’s never left before. It’s worrying, and at this point, you’ve convinced yourself that Hank might break up with you, he might have decided he had enough problems of his own to deal with and he couldn’t worry about yours.

Your phone dings as the screen lights up, and you rush to grab it, only to be disappointed by seeing it’s only a text from Bishop, assuring you that Hank would be home soon. Only then do you realize it’s now 12:23, and you’re doubtful that he will show up.

You hadn’t even realized the temperature dropped until a sudden clap of thunder startles you into alertness. And then it’s raining, pouring. You debate going inside to wait for him, but you quickly dismiss the thought in favor of worrying even more about Hank possibly driving in the rain. You also debate calling him but, again, dismiss it. You’re not going to upset him further by bombarding him with missed calls and texts.

So, you maneuver backwards so you’re flush against the door in order to avoid the rain as much as possible. You’re not successful, the rain is still able to reach your feet no matter how far back you press into the wood. And again, you wonder if you should go inside, but the fear of possibly losing Hank forever has you stuck in place.

Leaning your head back, you close your eyes to prevent tears from streaming down your rain-soaked face. It doesn’t work though, you cry anyway. You cry until there’s nothing left in you, until you’re slumping against the door into a dreamless sleep.

You’re startled awake sometime later by another rumbling, and you prepare yourself for another burst of thunder. It doesn’t come though. What does come are headlights moving down the street, slowing down and inevitably stopping in your driveway. You’re sitting up immediately, heart hammering in your chest as you pray that it’s Hank finally coming home to you.

And it is, through the darkness and the rain you’re able to make out the form of your boyfriend moving closer and closer until he’s standing on the porch steps, completely drenched. You have a half a mind to chide him for riding his motorcycle in this kind of storm, but then remember that you’ve been outside for god knows how long waiting on him.

“What are you doing outside?” Hank asks, voice thick and low.

“I -“ You pause, pulling your knees to your chest and glancing down at his feet. “I was waiting for you.”

You hear Hank sigh, and another crying fit threatens to come at the thought that he’s angry with you. You can’t handle him being angry at you, your heart can’t take it.

“Amor,” Hank shifts so he’s crouching down, then lifting a hand so he can stroke down your cheek to your chin where he then prompts you to look at him. “You shouldn’t be out here in this kind of weather.”

Sniffling and nodding, your mouth turns down as you fight off tears. “I’m sorry,” You whisper, just loud enough for Hank to hear you.

“Come here.” It’s not a suggestion, it’s an order. So you scoot forward so you’re sitting directly in front of him.

With the close proximity he’s able to shift you into his arms and stands up, cradling your shivering body. You don’t register him opening the door, nor do you register him walking you down hallways into your bedroom, all you can think to do is relish in the feeling of being in Hank’s arms once again. Maybe for the last time, you think.

It’s only when Hank sets you down your bathroom counter that you snap back into reality, frowning again when he moves back.

“Hank -“ You start, but then stop. You’re not sure exactly what to say, sorry doesn’t really express how bad you feel for yelling at him.

“Amor,” He sighs again, a sullen look crossing his face. Your eyes widen, unsure of what he’s about to say but pretty certain it won’t be positive. “I love you, with everything in me. You know that, don’t you?”

You opt to not respond verbally, instead you just nod. You can still see the hint of anger in his eyes, just not as prevalent.

“I’m not angry with you, not about the argument at least.” Hank sighs again, stepping forward to place one hand on your thigh and one on the back of your neck. “I’m angry over how I reacted, with how quick I was to yell back at you. I shouldn’t have, I should’ve been more understanding. You’ve had a hard week, and I should have helped relieve that stress instead of arguing back.”

Hank pauses, and in that short moment you shake your head vigorously, both of your hands moving up to grasp his kutte.

“No, no. Hank, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let my problems build up and I definitely shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” One of your hands slithers up his chest to cup his cheek. Looking him in the eyes, you say, “I’m sorry.”

Hank uses the placement of his hand to pull your neck forward, your head resting on his shoulders. And once again, tears fill your eyes as you babble on about how sorry you are.

Hank doesn’t say or do anything other than rub his hands up and down your back and arms, cooing at you while you continue to cry. Your arms have wrapped themselves around Hank’s neck, pulling him as close as possible as though you’re afraid he’ll disappear. And once your crying tapers off into occasional whimpers and hiccups, he pulls away from you to look into your eyes.

“Please, cariño, please let me help,” The desperation in his voice and face makes you want to cry all over again, but you force it down so you can collect yourself.

“I’ve just been stressed. Everything went wrong this week, the new hire has been messing everything up and I’m the one who has to fix it. I can barely sleep and I’ve just been running myself ragged,” You pause, moving one of your hands to cup his cheek and place your thumb over Hank’s lips to prevent him from scolding you.

“The worst part about it is that these things wouldn’t have upset me so much if I weren’t -“ You stop yourself, taking a deep breath and looking into his eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Hank.”

Time seems to stop, while you feel lighter for finally telling him, you’re more worried of his reaction. Sure, you’ve talked about kids before, but you didn’t know it would happen so soon, and the worry that he’ll back out, even though God knows he wouldn’t, is prevalent.

“Honey,” Hank gasps, hands immediately coming up to rest on your waist. “You’re pregnant.” He pauses, seemingly to collect himself before his eyes widen in realization. “You’re pregnant and you were waiting outside for hours? You could get sick, or - or -“

You cut him off with your lips, pressing your cold ones to his slightly less cold ones. Hank seems to relax, his entire body slumping into yours, pulling you impossibly closer as you both kiss lazily. Relief floods your veins, the knowledge that he isn’t mad, that he seems to be happy about this, warms you from the inside out.

“I love you,” You murmur, placing two more delicate kisses to his lips before you turn your head because you can’t fight the urge to sneeze anymore.

Sneezing once, then twice, this pulls Hank out of his trance. He pulls away suddenly, fumbling to the left cabinet so he can search for any kind of cold medicine you have. Once he finds what he’s searching for, he’s quick to run to the kitchen to presumably grab water.

And you’re left sitting on the counter, leaned back so you’re resting against the mirror, wondering how in the hell you got so lucky to find someone like Hank.

[bucksangel]

Guiding Light pt2

Pairing: Hank Loza x f!Reader (no description of body type or race)

Summary: The day of your date has finally come, but the impending storm threatens to ruin Hank's plans.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: pure fluff with a lil spice at the end😳👀, baker!Hank, possibly ooc!Hank but i love the thought of him all nervous and blush-y around the reader, making out and a little boob grabbing towards the end to transition into part 3 which has actual smut

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tip Jar

Tagging: @melaniecraig80 @est1887 @iamthegraham @winchestershiresauce @mono-kai @withmyteeth @sincerelyasomebody

a/n: i'm reposting since there was something wrong with the first post! but i have said this before, and i’ll say it again: Hank Loza is my husband and baker!Hank is a hill i will die on. i hope y’all love this as much as the first part and i’m really excited for y’all to read part 3 (which is extremely smutty while also being fluffy)😳🥺

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

The heatwave that has encompassed Santo Padre for the last two weeks is finally dying down, partially due to the change in seasons and partly due to the clouds covering the sky and blocking the sun. The blue-gray clouds swirling overhead are relieving for most, but infuriating for some, mainly Hank. This is the first Saturday in what feels like forever that he’s been granted the day off. After hearing of Hank’s date with you, Bishop all but demanded he take the day off to make everything perfect (because, just like everyone else, Bishop has been waiting for this day for months).

It seems, though, that the impending rain might put a damper on his plans, and Hank is quite literally freaking out. He’s been tossing around different activities that could be done today in lieu of his original idea of a picnic by the lake. But seeing as he’s been fighting for a solid hour on what else you both could do that would blow you away, he doesn’t even realize it’s past the time he was supposed to pick you up. It’s not until he receives a text approximately ten minutes after one pm, that he realizes his mistake.

Opening his phone, Hank sees the text is from you, and while the panic in his chest rises, he can’t help but smile at his screen like a love-sick fool.

From: Mi Querida

Hey! Everything okay?

To: Mi Querida

Everything’s fine, amor. I lost track of time, be there in 15, I promise.

As soon as Hank hits send, he decides to bite the bullet and grab his wallet, the basket he’s packed full of snacks and drinks, and walks out of his house. Truly, he still cannot believe you agreed to a date with him. Even though you were the one to initiate the kiss, nerves still wrack his body at the thought that maybe today could be the day you change your mind, maybe you’ll see how nervous and awkward you make him and you decide this isn’t what you want.

These thoughts don’t have time to spiral any further as Hank realizes he’s parked his truck in front of your house. The nerves are still present but he pushes them down, he knows he can’t put this off any longer, he needs to make you his. So, he grabs the pink roses resting on the passenger seat and gets out of his truck. He has to wipe his sweat-ridden hands on his pants a few times on the walk uo your porch, the flowers clutched in his right hand as he stops in front of the wooden door. It swings open as soon as he lands on the final step, and just like the past monday, his breathing stops.

You’re wearing a short sleeved, dark green dress that rests about mid-thigh on your legs. It’s a tad bit loose on you, and your tennis-shoes are untied, but you’re beautiful nonetheless. Your smile, though, that’s what takes Hank’s breath away. A smile full of love and light that sends him to a whole other world that he has to force himself to breathe lest he get lightheaded.

“Hey handsome,” You whisper, leaning your body against the doorframe as your eyes drift down towards the flowers in Hank’s hand. “Are those for me?”

Hank coughs, clearing his throat and his mind, so he can push his hand outward, urging you to take the flowers. “Of course, mi amor.” A sudden clap of thunder, not too terribly loud, startles you both, and Hank is quick to follow up with, “I was going to take you to the lake that’s just outside Santo Padre, but -”

He’s cut off by your giggle, and that’s when he notices that you’re staring at him with the softest smile he’s ever seen. You nod your head towards the basket in Hank’s hands and ask “It was supposed to be a picnic, I’m assuming?” With a nod of his head, you continue, “Well, we don’t have to go to the lake. I have a perfectly good backyard.”

Your hand stretches towards his free one to hold it gently while you lead Hank into your house. It’s cosy, pictures of friends and family adorn the hallway you walk down to get to the backyard. There’s a quick detour to the kitchen so you can place the flowers in a spare vase (meaning you took out the flowers in the only vase you have so you could put Hank’s in them) and place them in the center of your kitchen table. While passing the living room Hank notices a few new pictures on one of the end tables by your couch, one of them is of you and the MC from last Thursday‘s get together at Taza’s ranch, while one is solely of you and him, also from last thursday.

It’s a candid shot, Hank was reclining on one of Taza’s many sofa’s while you’re sitting on the arm rest. Your head is thrown back in laughter, one arm steadying yourself on the armrest and one hand resting on Hank’s shoulder. You were presumably laughing at Bishop’s story of how Hank’s stupidity once landed him in jail for a night.

This makes him warm all over, the fact that you’ve framed a photo of you and him and put it out for anyone to see has him, dare he say, giddy, and he can’t stop the smile spreading across his face. His hands get clammy once again, even more so when you intertwine your fingers through his.

Within seconds, you’ve made it to the backyard. The patio is small, having only a grill, a table, and a few chairs surrounding said table, but the yard itself is quite big. A tall tree resides in the far left of your yard, big enough to cast shade should it be sunny. This is where you lead him, and Hank is quick to open the large basket and take out a blanket (arguably one of his favorite’s and he is a little bummed it might get ruined, but the thought of laying next to you on it makes up for it).

The blanket gets laid down, as does the basket, and as Hank reaches to take the food out, you’ve already plopped down onto the blanket. His head tilts up, his eyes fluttering up over to your face to see you’ve graced him with a soft smile and a wink.

Hank winks back at you and shifts his attention back to retrieving the food. A few moments pass by in silence before Hank says, “You might as well take a picture if you’re going to keep staring.”

A few short giggles escape your lips as you nod, “I might as well, huh?” And the next thing Hank hears is a tiny click from your phone as you do, in fact, take the picture.

With a short chuckle and a shake of his head, he then turns and sits as close as he can while facing you. The containers splayed before you both include an assortment of berries, seasoned chicken, and a round container of a small chocolate cake (no doubt it’s one he baked himself). The cake was made with love and care, made to be better than the brownies from last Monday (which is pretty hard to do considering they did, in fact, come out perfectly).

Hank makes himself useful by rationing out the food, carefully splitting everything between you both. Your stare burns holes into Hank’s face, it makes him nervous, as do the clouds circling above. And he prays that the rain holds off until the date has ended (which, he knows it won’t, especially since he plans on being here for as long as you’ll allow him to be).

“So, Hank. Tell me about yourself.”

A moment of silence passes before you break into laughter, there’s not much more Hank could tell you since he’s already shared so much of him. Deciding he does have a few things he can tell you about, he pops a blueberry into his mouth and begins telling you adventures from his childhood. What he liked, what he did, what he got in trouble for, what it was like to grow up with his mother.

A few long winded stories consume the conversation, laughter breaks through every so often as Hank tells you yet another story of stupidity that landed him in a holding cell for a night (sometimes multiple nights). The laughter that flows through the air is melodic, a harmonic mix of you and him. You and him. Hank likes the sound of that, a lot actually.

At some point, you’ve ended up leaning your head against his shoulder. Hands end up intertwined and Hank can swear his heart is in his throat, threatening to spill out every lovely thought he’s ever had about you. He saves that for another day, content with this moment of joy you are sharing.

_____________

Lying next to each other, the blanket underneath you both bunches up as you continue to laugh heartily at every dad-like joke Hank makes. Your body twisting with giggles as you move to slap his chest every so often to get him to stop (you don’t actually want him to stop, but the aches in your stomach do). Eventually, though, you’re laying in silence, choosing to gaze into each other’s eyes with a fondness that would make anyone else feel like they were intruding if they looked at you.

Your breathing evens out, and Hank takes note of your chest rising and falling with every breath you take. And not that he wants to make you uncomfortable, he just can’t help but let his thoughts roam to images of him on top of you, having you underneath him while he undresses you and makes love to you with vigor. He doesn’t even realize he’s been staring intensely at your breasts until you shift to lay on your side, one hand propping your head up while another lands on his chest.

Hank’s breathing stops, his eyes focusing on your hand caressing his chest and then the smile on your face as you push your body closer to his own. Slowly, you press yourself into his side, your head resting in the crook of his neck as you sigh contently.

“This is nice Hank,” You whisper, your lips hovering over his neck that sends chills down his spine.

With care, Hank takes a hand and covers yours, enveloping it in his warmth. With your body pressed so close to his and your fingers nearly entwined with his, he almost forgets to speak. But the glint in your eyes when you move your head to look at him snaps him out of his nervousness.

“It is,” Hank whispers back, bringing your hand to his lips to press delicate kisses anywhere he can reach. And with your hand still pressed to his lips, he speaks again, “I’d like to do it again, if you would too.”

Your eyes shine brighter, your smile grows wider, and Hank swears he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. “I’d love to,” You say, leaning your head closer to his to place a kiss on his cheek. “Next time we’ll have to go to that bowling alley so you can prove your skills to me.”

Hank laughs at this, his head falling back against the blanket, and he prays you can’t feel his heart beating out of his chest. The rapidness of it would make him think he’s having a panic attack, but it’s quite the opposite, he’s too infatuated with you that his heart simply cannot handle having you so close to him.

“Next time, amor,” Hank says, making a bold move by adjusting you both so he can wrap one arm underneath your body and pull you flush against him.

Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of your proximity, he notices the way your face flushes and your breathing picks up, and he picks up the slight movement of your body as you brush your thigh against his. He moves to speak again, ready to assure you that you don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready, but he’s stopped by you pushing up to rest your head on your hand again and your body leaning over his. Your free hand sneaks its way out of Hank’s grasp and up his chest to skim your fingers along his neck.

The electricity between you two is, for lack of a better term, shocking. In the sense that Hank has never felt this way about any other woman, you’re the first woman to truly keep him on his toes. The first woman he would undoubtedly give everything to, if you want it, he’ll find a way to give it to you.

There’s a small smile on your face as you peer down at Hank with so much emotion (love, he hopes) that it threatens to break him entirely. “Is this okay?” You ask timidly, and he doesn’t miss the quiver in your voice that you’re clearly trying to hide.

And Hank is done with playing it cool, he needs to make a move, to show you how you truly make him and his body feel. So he carefully pushes you onto your back, and before you get the chance to apologize for being so forward, he shifts so he’s now hovering over you, his arms caging you in.

“Is this okay?” He asks, humor evident in his tone.

“It will be if you kiss me.”

And that’s all Hank needs to surge down and press your lips together, moving together with synchronicity and passion. His heartbeat picks up when you wrap your arms around his body, pressing your hands flat on his back to pull him closer.

One of his arms falls so he’s now resting on his elbow, and his free hand caresses your face, making sure no part of you is left untouched and unappreciated. This hand travels down your face to trace along your exposed collarbone, and the hitch in your breathing sends Hank into a frenzy of sorts. Your back arches and your breasts press against his chest as he trails his fingers further down to skim along the top of your clothed chest. No longer caring about your surroundings, your hand quickly clutches his and forces it to cup your left breast.

Kneading and massaging it, Hank continues to lick into your open mouth, the mewls and whimpers escaping your lips make the crotch of Hank’s pants tighten with his growing erection. And with the way you’re wiggling under him lets him know that you feel it, that you’re okay with it.

Neither of you realize the clouds getting darker, too entranced with each other to realize the small droplets of water falling from the sky turning into a full on downpour. But the moment the rain splatters against Hank’s back, he pulls away from you, shocked at how quickly the storm came raging through.

But you don’t care, your laugh echoes through his mind as you pull Hank back down so you can kiss him once more before whispering, “We could always continue this inside.”

Hank nods his head quickly, and thanks every God out there that you, you, want to be with him in every sense of the word. And he’s more than happy to prove to you how good his skills really are.

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Christening The New Office

Gif credit @angels-reyes

Requested on wattpad.

Hope you all enjoy.

Happy Reading Dollies.

Taglist: @ilovetaquitosmmmm. @twistnet. @nocturnalherb16. @baylishh. @myangelreyes

You finished putting up the last picture as there was a knock on the door. Turning around you saw Hank standing there with a buque of flowers and balloons.

"Hey there, Mrs. Big shot". He came in giving you a kiss.

"Hey. I'm not a big shot". You said smelling the flowers.

"What are you talking about? You got this bomb ass office".

"Yeah, because Patterson wanted my office for years and now he's fucked his way to the top so now he can get what ever he wants".

"Thats not true". Hank sighed sitting down on the leather couch.

"Right. You see that girl standing at his door? She's my assistant, them to are having an affair. He wanted my office so he can be with her. She's also the bosses daughter". You said pointed threw the blinds towards your old office, the girl twirling her hair and flirting to the older man sitting in the office.

"Ooooh. Why don't you tell the boss"?

"Because he doesn't care. He's fucking his assistant. This whole building is fucking someone other than their spouse". "It's like a office orgy".

"So who you fucking"? Hank asked crossing his arms across his buff, kutte covered chest.

"Just you I swear. I don't find anyone in this building desirable. They're either eighty years old or just out of high school".

You walked over you to him sitting down on his lap.

"I find you very desirable". You started kissing his neck, his hands rubbed up and down your thigh.

"How about we give your coworkers something to talk about"? He told you while unbuttoning your dress shirt.

"Not on the couch".

"Why"?

"This is Patterson's couch". You started giggling as Hank pusher you off, getting off the couch with disgust.

"Fuck, why is it still here"? He said pumping his hands full with hand sanitizer.

"Office warming gift".

"Doesn't matter my ass would have sweated anyways. What about putting this blanket down". He went through on of the unpacked boxes.

"It's very scratchy. Feels like you're getting covered with cactus. Another office warming. Probably has a bunch of semen stains on it as well". You bellied over laughing as  Hank threw it in the trash can stomping on it.

"Is there anything in this office that hasnt been touch by a pervy co-worker"?

"My desk. That's the only thing I asked to take. I really like my desk". Hank smirked.

"You wanna ride"?

You didn't have to answer, Hank started stripping, you shimmied out of your skirt and pushed Hank against the desk. Thankfully it wasn't setup yet. That was a mess you didn't have energy to clean up after your ride.

Hank jumped on the desk laying down, you crawled through his legs, hovering his body kissing along his torso.

"Fuck, baby girl". Hank groaned as you took him in your mouth sucking the head of his cock.

"Shh, I don't want to be the first to get caught". You giggled on his stomach as you kissed up his chest. Straddling his waist, your hands resting on his chest as you grind against his cock, getting him nice and wet with your juices. Just the thought of getting caught made you soaking wet.

Snaking your hand between your bodies, you lined him up and sunk down on his length. Biting your lips as he stretched you.

You started rocking your hips, Hanks hand gripped your hips moving with you.

"Fuck daddy, your dick is so big". Hank smirked, slapping your ass cheek a yelp leaving your mouth.

You picked up your pace, the room was filled with the sound of skin on skin. Your desk was soaked with your juices as they dripped.

Leaning down you kissed Hank deeply and rough pulling at his bottom lip.

"You keep doing that I'm not going to late long". He growled as you started bouncing up and down. Your breast bouncing out of your bra which Hank took to his advantage and grabbed both, rubbing your nipples between his fingers.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum". You upped you speed, that familiar feeling building deep inside you. Hank gripped one breast as the other gripped the desk.

"Come on this dick baby girl". His seductive voice drove you over the edge. You cried out aa you came, your finger nails digging into Hanks chest.

You rode your orgasm out as Hank erupted inside you. A howl came from deep inside him as he shot his warm seed inside you. Feeling him pulse made you whimper, knowing it was the end.

"That was incredible". You said falling on his chest, panting and sweaty.

"We have to do this again and soon". You laughed.

"I have a meeting in twenty minutes so maybe another day". Hank pouted as you got off him, grabbing your shirt off the floor.

"How about I bring lunch tomorrow and we can do this again. I'll even get rid of the couch".

"Sounds like a deal". You said kissing his lips and fixing your clothes in the mirror behind the door.

"I have to go, so lock the door if you're going to be naked, dont want those hoes out there getting a whiff of you. I'll have to beat them off". You say seriously but Hank chuckled.

"I'll do that. Love you".

"Love you too". You blew him a kiss, as you closed the door Hank clasped on the desk, tired. His heart racing.

The next day.

Hank got onto the elevator with a woman that looked run down and need a vacation.

"What floor"? She asked.

"The same as yours. My wife works there".

"Really so does my husband". Hank began to cough. The woman looked at him oddly.

"Who's your husband"?

"Patterson. Your wife"?

"Y/N Loza".

"Aw, she's so nice".

"Thank you she really is. You seem nice too". Hank bit his tongue when really he's wanted to tell her that her husband is a cheating dick.

"Thank you. I hope my husband has time to see me today. He's extremely busy these days".

"Really? Hmm. Y/N is usually home on time. That's weird". He said giving a little hint.

The bell dinged and the elevator stopped the doors opening.

"It's nice meeting you". She said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you too. And I would watch out for a little blond". Hank whispered and walked quickly to your office. She looked at him odd but shrugged it off and went to her husbands office.

Hank slammed your door and peeked through the blinds.

"What are you doing"?

"I may have warned Patterson's wife".

"You didn't"? Hank waved you over pointing to the scene playing out. As Mrs. Patterson opened the door she saw her husband have your assistant bent over his desk. She shreaked ans hurled her purse at the girl b throwing her out the door. Patterson scrambled to get his pants up but his wife stabbed him with a letter opener. You both sat in shock and awe.

"Holy fuck". You say looking to Hank.

"She stabbed him with a letter opener, how cool". Hank laughed, taking a beer out of the picnic basket he had brought giving one to you and one for himself.

"We're witnesses you know that"?

"I say he deserved it. Not guilty". Hank chuckled.

"Now let's take down the whole floor".

"This isnt a game, it's my job".

"But if they're gone, probably in the hospital or the morgue then that leaves you to take over". "It's a win, win".

"You're very smart my love". You kissed his cheek as he watched the security guards tackle Mrs. Patterson to the floor, Hank booed the whole time. It was a fun day in the office.