Soooooo this is a big project but with my plans for next year I cant see the normal mystery bingos coming out easily. That being said cause I know you guys love them so much I have decided to set up a big bingo card for 2027 that you guys can out request in for until July 1st 2026. I will put stories out all 2027 from these requests at my discretion.
See Below for Rules and other info!
Rules are pretty simple
Choose a character below from either SONS or Mayans. Sons- Clay, Chibs, Halfsack,Happy,Jax,Juice,Kozik,Tig,Opie,Ratboy Mayans- Angel, Bishop, Bottles, Creeper, Coco, Manny, Nestor, Gilly, Guero, EZ
Send in a small blurb for your request or say MYSTERY and I will pick something for you!
You can send in as many requests as you want please just send them as separate asks so I can stay organized! You can also mix and match characters!
Please and this is the most important! Include 2027 BINGO in your request so that I know its for this event and not just a normal request!
Questions or concerns? Don't hesitate to reach out!
Group HC - The Boys reactions to getting caught stealing your panties 👙
I know. I know. It’s terrible and gross and icky I KNOW 😭😭 but I saw HCs for another shows characters around this idea and I couldn’t get it out of my head and it triggered the memory that this is actually canon for Juice and…yeah. Here we are 🧍🏻♀️
He’s not sorry. Or embarrassed. He loves you, loves everything about you. He thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He worships you and the ground beneath your feet. So why wouldn’t he steal your panties? They’re yours, and they rest against his most favorite part of you all day 🤷🏻♀️ He won’t apologize, not even when your face heats up and you cover it with both hands. On the contrary, he probably makes a show of taking one out of the secret pile and sniffing it. He’s nasty, and he knows regardless of how you feel about it, you know he does it out of love and devotion. So he’s ok with it. And he’s not gonna stop.
He’s ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. Felt weird and invasive, but he couldn’t help it. He just loves you so much, and he gets lonely when you’re apart, and it smells like you. What else was he supposed to do? He would never cheat, would never even dream of it. But the stress of the club gets to him, especially the more complicated things get, he just needs comfort and relief, and when he saw them laying there in the hamper, he snagged it without thinking. Then he couldn’t stop, even when he knew he should. Even goes as far as offering to take apart the washer saying that maybe the machine is eating them 👀 He apologizes, cheeks tinted red, eyes downcast and hopes you don’t hold it against him. He’ll ask before he takes them next time, scouts honor.
Like Angel, he’s not embarrassed. He just shrugs, telling you that you’re his girl and your pussy is his, so why can’t he just take them? 🙄 He buys you new pairs every now and then anyway. So he wants to smell you randomly throughout the day, whats the harm in that? He just misses you. And likes to look at the pair and reminisce about times he’s taken them off of you. Is that a crime? He even reaches into his kutte and pulls out the pair that he’s kept on him today to show that it’s no big deal, and they’re the ones from yesterday, you recognize.
He’s bashful, arguably, but not necessarily embarrassed. It’s more about getting caught than it is the actual act. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. He’s not sorry for taking them, he’s just sorry that it’s kinda awkward for you to find the stash. He laughs awkwardly, shrugging it off or trying to anyway. Explains that he just rarely gets time to himself, so he is uses them when he’s alone in Templo to get his mind right. That your scent calms him and helps his focus. He didn’t think you’d mind too much, he just also never expected you to find out.
He's not sorry in the slightest and he makes sure you know it too. He bought every pair anyway, what's the issue? He could buy you 30 pairs by lunch 🙄 He wasn't up from about it, no, but he also didn't necessarily hide it. It just wasn't entirely in the open. You're respectful and don't go through his stuff in his office so how would you have known he had an entire drawer of his desk with them all collected in there? You'll get over it, a few new lingerie sets will make sure of that.
The OG of panty stealing and sniffing himself. It’s canon after all. He just can’t help himself. You’re his moon and stars and he just can’t get enough of you. Even when you’re perched in his lap, cockwarming him, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, it’s not enough. He needs to be in your skin. But he can’t. So stealing your panties is the next best thing. It’s a compulsion he can’t fight. God knows he’s tried. And he tells you as much. Lists all of the things he did first to try and not have to submit to that desire. But in the end it didn’t matter. He just needs to have your most intimate article with him at all times. Keeps He doesn’t want you to think he’s a freak but he also just need you to know how much he absolutely loves, adores, and worships you. He’ll even hand over the pair in his pocket if you ask him to.
He's nonchalant about it. It's just panties. You have a bunch more. Not like you were gonna miss them or something. He just loves you and likes to have something of yours that he can keep nearby when he misses you. One in his pocket, one in the sale bag of his bike tucked away hidden. His stash is dispersed, not because he was necessarily hiding them, but because there's one each place that will serve a purpose.
Also not embarrassed. Hits you with that famous smirk, his shoulders shrugging as you stare at him waiting for an answer. "Just miss you sometimes, Darlin'. Just somethin' to get me by." Like it's perfectly normal. He left you your favorite pairs after all. He only takes the ones you're not the biggest fan of, so you wouldn't notice as quickly. It's not a big deal, he can give them back. Sometimes he just needs to sit in the chapel with them over his face while he strokes himself before Church so he can make sure he has a level head before this important vote.
When a Mayans MC rescue mission for Leticia Cruz uncovers another captive hidden in the basement, Bishop expects a witness. What he finds instead is the missing daughter of a SAMCRO brother—and a woman carrying more scars than anyone should have to bear.
As old alliances bring the Sons and Mayans together, Lex must learn how to live again in a world she no longer recognizes. Healing isn't a straight road, and neither is finding a place to belong.
A story about survival, found family, second chances, and the roads we never meant to travel.
After a previous failed attempt due to bad health I will be jumping back in with my darker desires event for kinktober.
Exclusively for Sons of Anarchy and Mayans MC characters.
Please choose a prompt ( or two ) from the list below, along with your character ( characters, because why have one when you can have two? 😉)
And let's get creative! 🩶
As always, Anons welcome. 🩶
Characters: Sons of Anarchy.
Jax Teller
Chibs Telford
Tig Trager
Juice Ortiz
Opie Winston
Happy Lowman
Clay Morrow
Mayans MC
Bishop Losa
Angel Reyes
Ez Reyes
Gilly
Bottles
Guero
Manny
Prompt list:
1. “You look so pretty with my hand around your throat”
2. “Do you need reminding who you belong to?”
3. "Did it tell you to stop?”
4. “Shut that pretty little mouth before I shut it for you.”
5. “Look at you, so perfect with my marks all over you.”
6. “Are you gonna start doing as you're told?”
7. “Beg like a good little girl.”
8. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”
9. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”
10. “You don't cum unless I say so, kitten.”
11. “Wanna see what happens to little brats? Bend over.”
12. “Keep going, you might learn how to do it properly.”
13. "Keep making those sounds and we'll do this until you learn how to be quiet.”
Summary: Bishop’s wife never bothers him when he’s in Templo. So when she calls him crying he knows something’s wrong and hurries home the first chance he gets.
A/N: cross posted from ao3. Posting twice today cause why not?
Tags: @staley83
Getting a phone call from his Old Lady while he was in Templo was unusual. He always texted her before to let her know that he would be busy. And she knew how important these meetings were. Especially when Marcus was in town. She never called like this usually. Because she knew better. So for her to try and call during had him both frustrated and worried. When they finished and he was left in Templo alone he called back.
“Obispo?” Her voice was raw like she’d been crying.
Most of his frustrations melted away into worry. She rarely cried. And even rarer was her calling him by his first name. She was one for pet names 24/7.
“(Name), Mama, you okay?” He asked.
“I…I don’t know…” she admitted, and he could hear the running water from a sink, “I can’t stop crying…I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t call like that…but…I really need you…”
She broke down in tears over the phone again. And all his frustration melted away. He was worried as could be now. He got up and told her he would be there. He would make his excuses to Marcus who was coming in to see what was going on, since Bishop hadn’t left Templo to make a call.
“My wife called me crying.” Bishop said, putting his phone in his pocket.
“(Name) was crying?” Marcus asked to clarify, he knew Bishop’s Old Lady.
“Yeah…” Bishop shook his head, “We good?”
He had to be sure that if he left it wouldn’t be an issue. The club had to come first sometimes, and (Name) knew that. She wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t serious.
“We’re good here, go check on her.” Marcus said.
Bishop quickly left, simply saying it was an emergency. Because for her to call like this it had to be.
It didn’t take him long to arrive at the modest home that he shared with his wife. They’d been together for three years now and she never called him crying like this. He walked in and found her curled up in their bed with a rest rag pressed over her eyes as she kept crying.
“(Name)?” He called out and walked over to climb into the bed with her.
She rolled over and pressed her face into his chest, sobbing hard.
“It’s too fucking much…everything is too fucking much today!” She sobbed.
Bishop ran his fingers through her hair, he just let her cry. He knew what she needed when she was upset. Even though she didn’t cry like this often or call him when he was busy with the club, ever. She just needed him to hold her right now, she would talk about it in time.
“What happened?” He asked when her sobs had subsided.
“That bitch came into the cafe today…that old classmate of mine who hasn’t grown up…we’re in our thirties now! God! Let high school go! Grow up!” (Name) took a deep breath, “She made my teenage years hell and decides that she gets to make my working life in my goddamn thirties hell too?”
(Name) groaned and pressed her head into Bishop’s chest harder. Bishop chuckled softly and hugged her tighter.
“She’s just bitter that her corporate drone ex cheated on her with that nineteen year old intern.” He murmured, “Poor girl.”
“I would be mad too, but take it out on her joke of an ex, not on me.” (Name) said, “She decided to loudly criticize me for the necklace you gave me.” She looked up at her Old Man, “Saying that I was shameless for showing off something bought for me with a criminal’s money.”
Bishop rolled his eyes and kissed her softly. She was so defensive of him. He didn’t tell her much of what the club did…but she knew that the club didn’t truly run legally. But she wasn’t going to let anyone talk shit about her man or his club.
“I haven’t said anything until today cause I was just so tired already,” she admitted, “I told her she was one to talk, since she attacked a nineteen year old over some WASP-y desk jockey.”
Bishop laughed and shook his head, she managed to tear that other woman to pieces without cursing. And still sounding like a lady. He loved that about her.
“She complained to my boss, and this was my first complaint…first and only complaint…but the jackass still fired me!” She exclaimed.
Bishop’s eyes widened, “He fired you over that?” He asked, “Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No, baby, no.” She shook her head, “I can’t have you stepping in like this, he’s been looking for a reason to fire me, ever since my last name changed. If you step in it will prove his preconceived notions about me being your wife and Old Lady right.”
Bishop sighed and nodded, he knew she was right. But he also knew that she would go crazy not being able to go out and work, to make some of her own money. Even if all it was used for was getting her nails done or new lingerie. He never liked to let her pay for anything of their shared expenses. But he knew she wanted to at least be able to afford to spoil herself and him every so often.
She started to cry again, completely frustrated with everything.
“You could always work in the scrap yard office, Mama.” He offered.
“I thought you wanted to avoid mixing work and home?” She asked, confused and wiping her eyes.
Bishop chuckled, “If it will keep you from crying like this, I’m fine with it. Plus…things might be getting crazy soon, I’d like to keep you close.” He said and she nodded, agreeing to think about it in a tired voice, “Is there anything else going on, you don’t ever cry like this or call me in Templo, even for work issues like this?”
(Name) but her lip, knowing that when she told him the last thing that would seal that she would be working in the office whether she liked it or not.
“When I got home I felt horrible, I cried a lot before I even thought about calling you…and when I was looking at my phone to distract myself…I noticed the date…” she murmured and Bishop nodded for her to continue, “And…I’m late…” his eyes widened at the implication, “I know we I’ve been careful…but still I took that test I keep in the bathroom just in case…” he held his breath as she finished speaking, “I’m pregnant…on top of everything I’m pregnant…”
She began to cry again. They hadn’t been trying, having discussed things and wanting to wait a little bit longer until things calmed down or the club got things a little more situated. So he was worried but he wasn’t unhappy. He held her tightly and kissed her temple.
“We’ll be okay.” He assured her and stroked her hair again, “But you’re gonna be working in the office. Gotta keep an eye on you…and my baby.”
She laughed and cuddled closer, “I love you, Bish.” She said.
“I love you too, Mami.” Ge said and kissed her temple once more.
For @narcosfandomdiscord Book of Balancing In Between: Fanwork whose setting is in a liminal space (i chose the carniceria after-hours)
Warnings: 18+, language, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, reader is the oldest Reyes sister
Word Count: 2k
A/N: MAAAAAAAAN it's been a while since i've written for Bishop and i simply just love giving him complicated relationships with Reyes Women.
You knew better than to sit with your back to the door no matter where you were or what time it was. But, after how the last few weeks had gone you were too tired to think about it. You were too tired to think about it, it was two in the morning, and out of all the places in the world to sit with your back to the door you figured that Felipe’s shop was one of the safest. So there you were, camped out at one of the small tables inside the shop with your back to the door.
It'd been a long time since you made a point to notice the sound of motorcycle engines. It was like having the fan on at home or the window down in the car as you drove, noise that you heard but never really listened to. The sound of the bike engine went in one ear and right out the other, but the shifting lights and shadows of the singular headlight coming through the front windows of the shop are what caught your attention. Then you heard the rest of it.
Taking a deep breath, you wiped at the tears in your eyes, the ones smeared across your cheekbones. Raking your fingers back along the sides of your head, you tried to take breaths deep enough to get your heartrate and your breathing back on track.
The sound of the engine went away, the light streaming through the window went away too and sent all of the shadows running with it. You sat perfectly still, and within seconds, right on cue, the bells above the door chimed as someone pushed it open.
The pacing of his strides gave it away before he even opened his mouth to speak. “Shouldn’t turn your back on the bad guys, querida,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder.
Something about the feeling of the callouses on his palm against the exposed skin of your shoulder was more comforting than usual. Reaching up, you threaded your fingers with his. “Only bad guys who come here tend to be pretty good to me, so I think I’ll be alright.”
His hand fell away from your shoulder as he walked to sit across from you, and you begrudgingly let his hand slip out of yours. Leaning back in the chair, you watched as Bishop sat down across from you. Once he sat, he immediately leaned forward onto the table, hands resting in the center of it close enough for you to hold if you wanted to.
There was something so familiar about the way he looked in the patchy light coming through the windows from the streetlamps outside. It reminded you of when you’d first met, first really gotten to know each other. A lot had changed since then, and it reminded you of all that too.
“What’re you doing here, Obispo?” you asked, mirroring his position but not taking his hands in yours again just yet.
“You weren’t home,” he offered up simply.
You chuckled. “And why were you—”
“Because you didn’t stop by the clubhouse.” He pulled his phone from his kutte and tossed it onto the table. “And you didn’t answer your phone.”
Tears were gathering in your eyes again but you still smiled at him. “Something going on that I should know about, then?” you asked, already knowing the answer.
Bishop looked at you, studied the expression on your face. He could see the puffiness of your eyes, the way that the tears beginning to creep over the edge were not the first ones that you’d shed for the night. He saw the tiredness in your eyes, even though only the smallest traces of light were hitting your face.
“Why here?” he asked, completely avoiding your question.
“What?”
He made a tiny gesture, a flick of his hand motioning to the expanse of the shop. “Why do you end up here at three in the morning when shit goes sideways?”
You chuckled. “It’s only two in the morning, first of all.”
“You know—”
You pointed to his kutte. “Can I?”
There was a pause, and the look on Bishop’s face let you know that he was contemplating holding out on you until he got some answers from you, but he’d never been good at turning you away. Reaching back into his kutte, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. You watched as he went through the motions that were so second-nature to him now, placing it between his lips and sparking the lighter, waiting to make sure it’d catch. He pulled one drag off of it before holding it out to you. You let your fingers touch for a second longer than necessary before taking it.
The inhale that you took off the cigarette in your hand was the steadiest one that you’d taken for most of the night. You tried to savor it, the steadiness and the burn you felt. Closing your eyes, you let your breath sneak back out one calculated centimeter at a time.
Finally opening your eyes again, you found Bishop still staring at you, that same unique mix of anger and concern in his eyes that never truly seemed to go away. “The worst thing happened here,” you said, quieter than you intended.
Bishop’s frown deepened in a way you didn’t know was physically possible. Nodding, he kept his voice just as quiet as yours as he said, “I know.”
You brought the cigarette back to your lips for a moment to buy you some time. “So now, when other bad things happen, sometimes I’ll come here. Get some perspective…or some shit like that.”
The tacked-on ending got weary but genuine chuckles out of both of you. “Right. Some shit like that.” Bishop took a moment to light up a cigarette of his own. “Still don’t like it.”
You hummed in amusement. “You don’t have to.”
“I do if you’re gonna keep comin’ here.”
“Only if you’re gonna keep comin’ after me.”
It was a sweet moment, one of small smiles and tendrils of smoke making it even harder to get a clear picture. But you each knew how the other looked even in pitch black darkness. There was a warmth about it, separate from the scorch down the back of your throat. You almost wanted to reach out with your free hand to take his.
But then the moment passed. Pressing the knuckle of your thumb across your brow, you asked, “So, did you come hunt me down tonight to tell me something that I already know?”
His expression faltered. “I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think I would’ve known by now that my brother got shot?” Ash fell from your cigarette onto the table, a mess you’d be sure to clean before Felipe found his way back to the shop again. “You didn’t think that between the hospital, and his girlfriend, and my other brother that’s part of your fucking club,” your palm slammed down on the tabletop, causing it to rattle, “You didn’t think that with all of that, I wouldn’t find out?”
“Querida, I—”
“Ah-ah,” you shook your head. “You didn’t come here to break the news to me, Obispo. When you called me a few hours ago? That was to try and break the news. And you were still too late on that, by the way. But the rest of it? Showing up to my house? Here? You only go that far when you know you’re up shit creek with no fucking paddle in sight.”
Neither of you said anything then. The longer you looked at Bishop, the less you felt that you knew what he was thinking. If tradition held, he was probably trying to come up with excuses for a few things: why EZ got shot, why he wasn’t the one to tell you, and why there wasn’t blood running down the streets of Santo Padre yet. You didn’t need the laundry list for it all, but you’d played games like this with him enough now to at least be curious about the answers.
The same thing happened when you found out Ezekiel had killed a cop and was going to prison, and when Angel was joining the club, then again when Angel was looking down the pipe at eighteen months in Chino, then again when you heard that not only was Ezekiel getting out of prison, but he was getting out of prison and funneling himself right into the club alongside his brother. The same song and dance again and again over the years, and to think that neither of you would’ve had to learn the steps if Bishop hadn’t found you here, alone in the shop in the middle of the night, scrubbing at the floor because you were convinced that the last of your mother’s blood still hadn’t been washed away after the police department left.
Clearing his throat, he started again. “I didn’t think that you should be alone.” He paused, waiting for you to start right up again. When you didn’t, he continued, but tentatively. “I’m sorry that you head to hear it from…” he trailed off, realizing that you hadn’t said through which avenue you found out.
“Gaby,” you filled in the blank, shaking your head as you remembered the sheer terror in her voice.
“I’m sorry about that.” He sounded genuine as he was saying it. Before the scoff in the base of your throat could make its way out, he said, “I am. But would hearing it from me have felt any better? Would you have ended up,” he gestured to the carnicería with both hands this time, “anywhere else?”
You chuckled, a bitter sound. “You almost had a decent apology going for a second there.”
He took a deep breath, and you could see it on his face that he was actively fighting the urge to say the first thing that came to his mind. “I am sorry. And I am fucking here. And if you ask me to do something for you right now, I’ll do it.” He waited for you to look him in the eyes again. “What do you want right now?”
Pulling every last bit you could from your cigarette, you snubbed it out. Smoke cascaded from between your lips as you sighed. Leaning forward, you dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wrap your head around Bishop’s question, about what your answer to it was.
“Where’s Ezekiel?” you asked.
“Out of town. Gaby’s with him.”
You nodded, hands dropping back to the tabletop. “Right.”
He covered one of your hands with his. “What do you want right now?”
You focused on the warmth seeping from his palm into the top of your hand. You zeroed in on the way he dragged the pad of his thumb across your knuckles. Looking at his face, you felt yourself getting pulled underneath the waves of desperation in his eyes. He always looked so sad, and so earnest about it. And the undertow of it all always seemed to get you.
Turning your hand, you interlocked it with his. “I don’t know.”
“Thought this place was supposed to give you some perspective?” he asked, a twinge of a smile on his face.
It got you to laugh if nothing else. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you said, “Maybe I just gotta sit here a little longer.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
He squeezed your hand before standing up. You tilted your head to the side as you watched him walk deeper into the shop. “What’re you doing?”
He crumbled the last of his cigarette into the small trash can by the bookshelf. Picking it up, he brought it over to the table where the two of you were sitting. “Cleaning this up before you forget,” he said as he swiped the butt of your cigarette and the ashes from it into the trash can. Once he brought it back to its rightful spot, he sat down across from you again. “And I’ll sit with you.” He watched as the tears started welling in your eyes again. “And I’ll bring you home before Felipe comes back.”
You managed a smile, and despite all the mess and the hurt, you felt a little bit of relief at his offer. Nodding, you gave a soft but sincere, “Thank you.”
He took your hand in his. “Whatever you need.”
(divider by @silkholland 💞)
Mayans MC Taglist (if you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!): @darqchilddaydreamz @withmyteeth @garbinge @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon
It was too early for you when the alarm clock went off. The loud resounding tone was blaring in your ears jerking you from what had been a short, deep, comfortable sleep.
"I'm up." You grunted at the alarm clock, your hand flailing out and tapping the nightstand in search of the offending item.
Bishop was already stirring alongside of you; his arm had been wrapped around your naked waist. He untangled himself from you as he heard your valiant struggle to shut off the clock. He reached across you, his nude skin caressing yours as he smacked the alarm clock off.
"Got it." he uttered; his voice rough from sleep.
His muscular form settled over his yours, his mouth covered your own, brushing over your lips with the softest of kisses.
"Good morning." You whispered against his mouth as your hands roamed along the defined curvature of his back.
"Hm, let me see what I can do to make it better..." he teased as lips sought out that sensitive spot underneath the curve of your jaw.
His mouth felt so good against your skin, you could feel the heat rolling over your flesh as he began to harden against your inner thigh. God, you were already wet at the prospect of him making love to you. It wouldn't take more than a simple movement. His palms were already ghosting over your breasts, your nipples to stiffening.
This was perfect right now, he was perfect...
The chiming of the doorbell cut through the air as you let out a needy moan. Bishop's entire body sagged as he let out a frustrated growl at the intrusion. He wanted to ignore that sound more than anything in the universe right now.
Bishop shuffled out of bed like a petulant child, yanking on his clothes as he muttered under his breath. His grey sweatpants managed to cover the evidence of his arousal. He cast a glance at you over his left shoulder as the doorbell chimed once more.
You looked like a goddess tangled up in the white sheets. You’d drawn them up to cover your breasts in order to give yourself some modesty.
"Don't move." he ordered you, that wicked glint in his eyes. "And do not start without me."
"I make no promises." You informed him with a sultry pout, your hand disappearing beneath the sheets.
"Fuck it." he murmured, before stripping off his sweatpants and climbing back into bed. "This is far more important."
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