Summary: Chris wants to know what you prefer, mustache or no mustache
Warnings: Implied smut, suggestive language
A/N: More of my works here and if you want to be on my taglist click here. I tried tagging everyone but it wouldn't let me post. Sorry guys!
What a huge mistake this was. You invited Chris over for an intimate dinner since he’s been so busy with Gray Man, Buzz Lightyear, and APC, leaving little time for his best friend.
Under your dim lights, you could see gray hairs through the sides of his beard. Every bone, muscle, nerve, and organ of your body was screaming at you to jump him. Honestly, you weren’t focused on his words, just the body part that they were coming out of.
“Huh?” You did your best to pretend that you misheard him, instead of just not totally paying attention.
Chris let out a small chuckle and rolled his shoulders as he licked his lips. The little laugh was directed towards you and him. You, because he found you adorable and to him because he knew he had you hooked. Tonight, he would finally make his move. He was tired of “just being a friend.”
“I asked,” he spoke slowly, loving the reaction to his voice. “If you would attend the Buzz Lightyear premiere with me?”
Should you go? Your friendship was pretty much on the down low because you were just a normal person who enjoyed your privacy. Did you want a bunch of crazed fans digging into your personal life?
Girl, you know that’s not the reason you’re hesitating. Going to that red carpet premiere symbolizes something more serious than friendship.
“Lemme think about it, okay?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He winked at you as he drank his beer.
This man was dangerous. He could yawn and you would have a heart attack. Maybe you should put 911 on speed dial.
“Any luck on dates?” You blurted out. Great, you tried to shift your thoughts on him. Now you gotta suffer through his exploits.
Chris slowly smiled. He could see through all of the nerves. “Nope, but I have a feeling that I’ll hit the jackpot soon.”
Grabbing your wine, you chugged at least half of it. “At least one of us is optimistic.”
“Aw c’mon,” His Boston accent was coming out more and more. It was a blessing and a curse. Seeing him be himself was great, but you were freaking soaking all the time. His voice was already a huge turn on. Now you has to deal with the Boston meatball.
“You’ll find someone. Someone who’s worthy of your greatness.”
“Tuh, I’ll settle for someone who can just give me an orgasm.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Chris thought. “Mustache or no mustache?”
You looked up from your plate in confusion. Chris had that mischievous look, like he just finished doing a jump scare on you. But this was different. This was darker, more intimate…more sensual. “What are you talking about, Christopher?”
“What do you prefer?” He rolled his shoulders and leaned forward. “What. Do. You. Prefer? Mustache or no mustache?” He intentionally licked his lips. Based on the way you were antsy, he could only imagine the way you would struggle once he was teasing you in bed.
Were you tripping or was this getting sexual? Maybe the alcohol was clouding your judgement? You know, rose colored glasses kind of thing.
You opened your mouth to answer, but Chris interrupted you. “Sorry, I didn’t ask that correctly.” He rested on his elbow as he stroke his beard. “What do you prefer?”
“Chris, this sounds like the same question.” Yeah, his ass was drunk. Ain’t no way you letting him drive home tonight. Intent on preparing the guest room for Chris, you got up, but you were stopped by Chris’ hands.
“Lemme finish.” Full Bostonian Chris was here. “What do you prefer between your thighs? Mustache or no mustache?”
Your eyes went frantic, looking for hidden cameras. This had to be some kind of prank. It’s been awhile since Chris pulled on you. He couldn’t seriously talk about eating you out. “Um,”
“C’mon, be honest.” He massaged your head while staring deep into your eyes. There was no mistake who’s mustache he was talking about.
“Um, no mustache.” You answered finally gaining your voice back.
Chris licked his lips once more. No way you could deny you were the ones would rather was on the dinner table.
His hand left your hand, so he could draw you in by your hips. “I figured. Now answer this.” He stood up, completely towering you. The gray in his beard was much more noticeable. DILF energy was on high.
Chris leaned forwards, not that he had to do much. He noticed you naturally drifting towards him. “Wanna find it how it feels?”
Your lips were forming to say no, when Chris interrupted you by rubbing your bottom lip. “Remember be honest.” He smirked, saying the phrase in a much deeper tone.
The feel of his hands were coaxing the truth out of you. Every knead loosened your lips. “Yes.”
Once that word was spoken, you were no longer on the ground, Chris was carrying you bridal style. “FYI, I’m ruining you tonight.”
“You better or I’ll be sorely disappointed.”
Chris chuckled darkly. There was no way he would lie about this. After all he had a motto to live by: be honest.
Summary: During another fun family dinner, Ransom’s new “job” is brought up.
Warnings: Smut, y’all know me by now.
A/N: Inspired by this TikTok
Here’s my masterlist if you want more!
Gif credit: @jamesbuchenan
Bickering surrounded you nonstop. That’s what happens when you have dinner with the Thrombeys. Meg better be happy, you were so bored that you decided to join this shit show. Just when you thought the arguing died down, one person would bring up a controversial topic and all it took was one differing opinion and it turn into a heated debate.
“Sorry, dear.” Harlan tapped your hand. “They just don’t know when to quit.”
You smiled at Harlan. He was the upside of this dinner. The older gentleman reminded you of your own grandfather you missed so much. He made these get togethers much more bearable. “It’s okay. This is fueling my social battery, so I won’t have to go out for a while.”
“Can I get one of those, darling?” Dazzling blue eyes winked at you.
There was one other perk you forgot to mention about Thrombey dinners. Ransom Drysdale. He made your heart and much more intimate parts flutter. Although, you would never do anything about that. You two were polar opposites. Him: brash, spoiled, spontaneous, lazy, uncouth, and extremely attractive. You: reserved, hardworking, people pleaser, and moderately attractive.
Meg swatted her cousin away. “Leave her alone! She does not need to be around your freakiness!”
Ransom leaned back and observed your body. Under that soft and innocent exterior, he knew there was a bad girl underneath. One day when you over, he peered over your shoulder and caught what you were reading on your kindle: a reverse harem. Ever since then his interest in you went up a hundred times more. Every time he saw you, he wondered what smutty book you were reading. He wondered if you touched yourself as you read them. He wondered if you fantasized about the scenes, and he wondered if you fantasized about reenacting them with him.
Leaning forward to invade Meg’s space, Ransom whispered. “Are you cockblocking because you’re trying to be a good friend or are you cockblocking because you’re a big lesbian SJW?”
Five minutes. That’s how long it lasted for the Thrombeys to get into another uproar. Joni and Meg were yelling at Ransom while he laughed, not caring about one word they were saying.
Tired of her cousin thinking he got the last laugh, Meg decided to pull out her trump card. “Yeah, like I would care what someone with an OnlyFans thinks of me.”
Everyone but Harlan, Ransom and his parents gasped. Ransom had an OnlyFans? Why? The dude had loads of money. Or his grandpa had loads of money and he had access to that.
Your eyes ping-ponged between Ransom and the rest of his family. Of course, Walt and his Great Value Trump family were appalled, but other than that no one else seemed horrified. Disappointed? Yes Horrified? No.
Ransom slowly smiled at his baby cousin like he was some sort of Bond villain. “First, how uncharacteristically conservative of you. Sex workers deserve the same respect as anyone else because sex work is work.” He quoted Meg from one of her many debates. “Secondly, you thought you did something, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Parentals and Harlan already know. The rest of you are insignificant, except,” he turned his head to you and kissed your hand. “For you.”
There would’ve been more attention paid to you if the rest of the family wouldn’t keep dragging him into conversation.
“Stop touching her! Who knows what STIs you have?” Meg tried her best to pull your heavy ass chair closer to her.
Doing his best Donna impression, Ransom gasped and clutched his invisible pearls. “Slut shaming is unacceptable. Not very SJW of you, so problematic.” He tsked.
Embarrassment gripped Linda enough. “No more talk about Ransom’s “job” at the dinner table.” This family was going to drive her to an early grave, she thought as she rubbed her forehead. “Ransom, I’ll talk to you about this later.”
“No, let’s talk about it, since my dear baby cousin attempted to air my so called dirty laundry.” Ransom leaned back and did the most glorious manspread.
“Fine, we’re all family here.”
“Mostly.” Jacob mumbled while he never looked away from his phone screen. Little jerk was probably retweeting Andrew Tate at the moment.
Of course, Meg couldn’t let the boy get away with the jab. Since, she was close to you and Marta, she decided to defend both of you. “When they visit grandpa more than you do, they are family.”
Jacob countered stating that Marta was just paid, and you were lonely and pathetic. Bitch wouldn’t be this vicious if you two weren’t the only POC at the table.
Before Meg could get a word in, Ransom tore Jacob to pieces. You swore you saw a little shimmer of a tear roll down the boy’s face. Ransom was able to put a chink in the dipshit’s armor.
Naturally, his parents didn’t appreciate the disrespect, not that Ransom cared about that. “Fuck you,” he pointed at Walt. “Fuck you,” he pointed at Donna. “And a big fuck you, you forever Nazi virgin.” Ransom pointed at Jacob.
The little bit of giggle he heard from you made him proud. He was happy he could elicit such a sound from you.
“Jesus, Ransom, can you stop for just one minute?” Linda wished her son grew up some.
Normally, he would give a smartass reply, but he really wanted to hear what his mother had to say. Ransom raised his hands in surrender and nodded his head as to say, ‘Go on.’
“Ransom,” she sighed, but her voice got louder and angrier with each word she said. “Apparently my girlfriend told me that you are taking your little fucked up OnlyFans photos in my bathroom. Is that true?”
From the tilt of his head and the little smirk, you knew it was true. Damn, maybe you should check them out. No! He’s Meg’s annoying older cousin. Your little debate was being interrupted by the back and forth between the mother and son.
“Shouldn’t it be a little more concerning that your friends paying to see your son’s cock?” He cocked an eyebrow at his mom.
“Ransom!”
You cover your mouth to hide your giggles and commentary. “He does have a point.”
Donna whipped her pointy face toward you. “Of course, you would watch something like that.”
Ransom tsked and wagged his finger. “You do not want to go there, Donna.”
“What are you talking about, Ransom?”
“Boredhousewife69?” He’s been waiting to release this nugget of information forever. “One of my top subscribers. Kinda creepy my aunt is watching me, but hey we’re family by marriage.” He winked and then left the table, pulling you with him and leaving the family in a disarray.
The two of you didn’t get very far. He just led you down the hall to the family room, that’s where Harlan stashes all the good liquor. “Thank you.” You whispered when he handed you a drink.
“It’s the polite thing to do. No matter how many times you’ve been here, you’re still a guest.” He shrugged and sat on the couch opposite of you. Man, he wishes he could draw. There was something about your beauty that needed to be advertised everywhere.
You rarely spoke to Ransom. It was even rarer for you two to be the only ones in a room. So, your voice was much more meek and softer. “Not for that. Sticking up for Marta and…me.”
Good deeds do get rewarded. Maybe he should do them more often. He was going to move closer to you, but his mom with his dad and Harlan following behind her.
Linda was going on about how he was embarrassing the family and needed to get a real job.
“Technically, it’s a real job.” You were curled up in the corner, too comfortable to move from this family moment.
“Huh? YN, how in the world is OnlyFans is a real job?” Linda valued your opinion. You had a good head on your shoulders unlike the people of your generation. Unlike her son.
Damn it, why did that slip out of your mouth? That statement was supposed to be an inner thought. “So, um, something like that takes a lot of marketing and advertising. And then to stand out, is another thing. There’s a bunch of dudes selling the same thing and the one thing I know about Ransom is, he ain’t gonna do anything unless he’s at the top. I’m sure he’s making bank. Then there’s lighting and editing. I spend like thirty minutes trying to take the perfect selfie and caption.”
“I’m gonna marry you one day.” Ransom smiled as you shied away.
Abort mission. Hugh Ransom Drysdale talking about marriage was a sign to get the hell out of there. “You all have a good night!” You hurried out the room and that damn house. It was time for a much needed break from the Thrombey family.
--
Days after the dinner you found yourself in deep contemplation. You had an OnlyFans account to subscribe to this guy Alex, but he was moving to the back of your mind as Ransom moved to the front. It didn’t help that Ransom was posting thirst traps on Instagram. It was like he was specifically taunting you. Like him shirtless in the hot spring. When did he get all of those tattoos?
Day six is when you broke. Ransom posted some pictures of him in the gym and the hormone monster was calling.
Good thing your username wasn’t anything obvious. If Ransom could figure out Donna, he could figure out yours. Typing in his name you found his profile. He had tiers of subscriptions. You choose the top one because you were being a “supportive” friend. It had nothing to do with early access or personalized videos.
One click and you knew your small laptop screen wouldn’t be enough. Quickly you ran to your living room and connected your HDMI cord to the laptop.
Right there on your 90 inch screen was Ransom’s dick. No wonder he was so arrogant. If you had a dick that big, you would be too.
Grabbing your vibrator, you settled on your couch with your legs spread wide open. From the first couple of words, you could tell this would be a glorious time.
Hours later, you found yourself in the same spot again. Today must have been one of those masturbate all day days. Or maybe it was because of Ransom. For your sanity, you would claim the former.
Ransom’s vivid words had you bent on all fours, with a plug in your ass, one weak hand around your throat as the other played with your clit. He even got you to respond to the video like he was in the room with you. If there was someone outside your door, they would think it was two people on the other side instead of one by the way you were moaning.
“Fuck baby! I’m gonna c-,” three knocks interrupted your impending orgasm. What inconsiderate idiot needed you now?
Pausing the video, you pulled down your nightgown and cracked the door open. “Ransom?! What do you need?!”
“Ouch neighbor!” He smiled as he covered his heart. He tried to make his sniffing inconspicuous as possible, which wasn’t hard. Your sweetness carried over strongly. He could even see some of your inner thigh glistening. Yeah, he heard everything. Well, at least two minutes of everything. With the way you were responding he knew you were watching one of his videos. You had to be the newest subscriber leaving him tips on every video.
“I need cheese neighbor.”
Really?! Your orgasm got stopped for some freaking cheese. “The store is down the street!”
“Yeah, but you’re right downstairs and I’m freaking starving.”
“Fine!” You threw your hands up. “Provolone, right?”
He nodded his head. “Yes ma’am.”
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Like he was really gonna listen. Ransom silently cracked the door open some more and slid through. He silently laughed as your muttering. You weren’t discrete as you thought. He knew he was interrupting some very special self-care.
What entitled that self-care was a wonderful surprise. Ransom smiled at himself on the screen. He smiled even bigger at the wet spot on the couch. Guess he found his newest fan.
“Here.” The frantic rush you were caused you to be out of breath. You pushed the cheese into the air but Ransom wouldn’t grab it. Finally, you noticed he wasn’t where you left him. Dread filled you because he wasn’t in the kitchen with you earlier. “Ransom?!” You ran to the living room and found him looking at the tv screen. You ran in front of the tv with your arms stretched out like that would really stop him from seeing what he already saw. “Ransom!”
He laughed at your feeble attempt. “Too late sweetheart. This is much better than finding out Donna was a fan.”
Could God just take you right now? You covered your face up to hide from the embarrassment. “Okay get your jokes in and go home.”
Ransom removed your hands. “Baby,” he cupped your chin and bent down at eye level. “If you wanted this all you had to do was ask.” He kissed your pouty lips. Each peck you became more open.
He cupped your ass. “Tell me.” He sucked on your bottom lip.
“Tell you what?”
“Every. Single. Dirty. Thing. You. Want. Me. To. Do. To. You.” Each word was punctuated by a kiss down the column of your neck down to the he valley of your breasts.
No, you couldn’t do this. Why would someone as experienced as Ransom want someone like you? Novelty? The thrill of the chase? Not happening. “Nothing.” You whispered, too afraid to speak louder because a moan would come out.
Ransom smiled against your chest. “Didn’t sound like nothing.” His fingers slipped up your thighs, treating your wetness like a slip n slide. “Definitely didn’t feel like nothing.”
“I don’t do this kind of thing. I’m a, I’m a goo-,” His hands made your brain go haywire, you couldn’t even speak properly.
“A good girl?” He held your chin and softened his voice like yours, slightly mocking you. “Good girls don’t lie. Tell the truth. What do you want me to do to you?”
Turning away, you whispered the truth. “I want- I want you to fuck me.”
“Louder, princess.” He already was going to his knees and bunching up your dress. His breath teased your core.
Taking a glance over your shoulder, you saw the desire in Ransom’s eyes. It was like his videos, but this was stronger, more authentic and sincere. “I want you to fuck me.”
You caught Ransom’s hungry smirk before he went in for his meal. Your knees buckled and luckily for you the couch was right there. The rose was nothing compared to Ransom’s tongue. Then he seemed to find the remote while he was preoccupied with your clit. Not only did you have Ransom eating you out from behind, you had him in front of you, jacking off, detailing every single thing he wanted to do to you.
His tongue was wicked in more than one way. It could cut you down with words or by one simple flick in the right direction.
“Ransom!” That damn tongue of his just made you cum stronger than you did all day. “Fuck me, please fuck me. Please, please, please.” Your voice reached this whiny tone, that it’s never done before. You couldn’t even remember the last time you begged like this. It for sure wasn’t over dick.
“You want my cock, princess?” How could he be so intimidating and domineering while he was on HIS knees with your cum covering his face. The power this man holds is inexplicable.
Biting your lip, you nodded your head. The response must have sufficed because Ransom was shedding his clothes.
Social media did his body no justice. Instagram couldn’t prepare you for how the thin gold chain sat upon his tanned collar bone from his recent trip to Miami. OnlyFans couldn’t prepare you for his thick head leaking precum. Were you worthy to be in the presence of a body so godly?
“Hey,” Ransom gave you a soft kiss and smile. “I’m the lucky one.”
You scoffed. “Okay sex god.”
“Fine, I’ll prove it to you.” He knew with you, the words needed to be backed by the action.
Ransom proved to be softer, gentler than expected. He truly worshipped your body and all on a couch. You wonder what he could do on a bed. Nope. Don’t get on that line of thinking. This was a one time thing. Ransom was a conqueror, and you are the now the conquered. No more chase. No more need to come back.
You fought your inner thoughts and enjoyed the moment. Your hands raked his back. The only con fucking him for real was that you couldn’t watch his back muscles. That had to be the favorite part of his videos. Watching his shoulder blades contract, move smoothly as he fucked a woman, wishing you were that woman. Now you are that woman.
“My pretty princess.” Ransom kissed you. He couldn’t stop kissing you, he wouldn’t be able to stop fucking you. There was the physical warmth of being inside of you, but there was another warmth being with you. It was basking in your aura. Whenever he was with you, he felt good and worthy.
His sweet words, his words of affirmations made you cum repeatedly. They rivaled his rough touches and hard stokes. Everything was so intense with him. It should be no surprise. Ransom was an intense person. Why should he be anything other than that?
He tilted your chin up. “Tell me I’m lucky.” He knew it, but he wanted to hear it from your mouth.
“Huh?” Weren’t you the lucky one? You were fucking the pornstar, not the other way around.
“Tell me I’m lucky.” He nuzzled his face close to yours.
“You’re lucky.” Your moans reverberated in his ears.
He was near and he knew you were as well by the way you were thrashing underneath him. Ransom just needed to hear one more thing from you. “Tell me how fucking lucky I am to be fucking this pussy.”
Your nails made artwork on his back as you repeated his words. “You’re so fucking lucky to be fucking this pussy.”
Those powerful words and his strokes sent you two over the edge.
“Oh shit, Ransom.” You laughed and played with his hair. “That was fun.”
Ransom kissed you and regretfully pulled away from you. He walked to get a rag and you got to see that you truly did use his back as a scratching post. You even drew blood. “Sorry.” You whispered to him.
“Don’t mention it.” He kissed your inner thigh he just wiped. “Also, we’ll get to do this again after dinner.” He began redressing himself.
“Dinner?” You thought this was a fuck and dash. From your knowledge, Ransom didn’t do dates.
Ransom laughed at your face of confusion. “Yeah, the meal you eat in the evening. Maybe you forgotten because my family turns dinner into speculates. It should be a good first date though. A regular dinner not one with my family.” He smiled.
“First date?!” You sat up.
“Yes,” he kissed you. “I’ll be back in three hours. Can you be ready by then?”
You touched your lips and simply nodded your head yes.
Ransom smiled at your cuteness once more. “I’ll give you the aftercare you deserve later tonight. We can do that Ghostface scene that you were so generous to me tip me on.”
“Ransom!” You threw a pillow at him that never reached its target since he was on the other side of the door.
All you could hear was his laughter, all the while you couldn’t stop smiling. This felt like the start of a beautiful new journey.
Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader & EZ Reyes x black!reader
Summary: You may have chosen EZ, but that doesn’t stop you from bonding with Miguel
Warnings: Brief mention of suicide, smut, spoilers for season 3
A/N: The gif will make sense once you read 😂 Gif credit: @dannypinot
Masterlist///Taglist
The following months after your father’s death was a whirlwind. Not too long after his funeral, Miguel’s mother met her demise by her own hand. Her suicide took a big toll on him. Plus, the miscarriage that Emily had didn’t help neither.
Then there was the demise of the town. You suspected it had something to do with the club, specifically Angel and EZ, but as usual they kept you out of it. It was a war zone with the National Guard there. Their presence also put Miguel’s project for the city to the halt. Now most of the people were unemployed.
The only good things that happened was that EZ was a full patch now and you were thriving at your new job. Oh, also you and Miguel were good friends. The deaths of your parents brought you two closer.
“Hello, Mr. YLN.” Miguel set the bottle of whiskey by your father’s headstone. He avoided your lighthearted glare. “Ah, I know. The dead doesn’t need it, but I think his spirit needs it.”
“Then the grave robbers take them.” The gesture was sweet, but it was a waste of his money. “Are you making better use of your money? Like maybe seeing a therapist?”
Unlike you, he wasn’t prepared for his mother’s death. It completely wrecked him. He shaved his beard, iced Emily out. Did you mention that he was cheating on her? With that Palmao lady. He had a mountain of stress on his shoulders and he refused to seek help. Your weekly talks were his therapy.
“Nice try.” He tapped your shoulder. “My mother went to therapy and she still committed suicide. Its safe to say it’s a crock of shit.”
Nothing you could say would make him feel better. All you could do is be there for him and squeeze his hand. “Just think about it,” you tilted his chin so you could get a good look at him. “For me, okay?”
Miguel caressed your face. The only person other than Cristobal gave him solace during this time was you. If only he could have you by his side, he wouldn’t have been such a mess. “It’s because of you, I only entertain the thought. Anyway, how’s work?” He didn’t give you a chance to respond to the levity of the earlier statement.
“Great.” You took a sip of your coffee. “They’re trying to convince me to take the Kim Kardashian route.”
“You should.” School was important, but you were more than ready to be a lawyer. Miguel knew you could easily shred any lawyer on his payroll, on anyone’s payroll. “Listen, I know its unconventional, but you really should do it. I know you want to get your degree, but I think this is your best option.”
You mulled over his words. If everything had went right the first time, then you would be practicing now. Only two things worried you, 1) what if you didn’t want to practice in California, and 2) others would try to undermine you. You could easily see colleagues giving you a hard time for not going the proper route.
“I like school though.” And you really did. School and work was where you thrived at.
“No one likes school.” At least not law school. The endless sleepless nights, the stress, the research. It was not a fun time. He tilted his head as he looked at you. “But you’re not like everyone else. You’re one of a kind.”
“I try to be.” You did a little shimmy.
The two of you continued your conversation at the diner. It wasn’t the most welcoming environment, but no one dared to step towards Miguel. “You know you should continue the project.”
He held up his hand and sighed your name. This conversation was getting tiring. Perhaps the only downside of knowing you was that you had a bleeding heart. You saw a sob story everywhere, someone always needed help. That’s why you could never get out of your situation before you met him. Even if you were on your last dollar, you would give money to someone who needed it more than you.
“We wouldn’t make enough profit.”
Finally, you came prepared. You brought out your business plan. “Don’t judge this too much, I’m not a business major, but I did some research.” Hopefully, you had all your points covered. Miguel said nothing as you went over the plan. It made you more nervous, but you kept trucking through. “Yeah, I know its not as much as you would’ve made but it’s still a profit and then you gain the respect of the people. They might see you as a savior once they start making money and trust me loyalty is everything.”
All of this was beyond impressive. It was better than anything him and Emily came up with. Even if stress and grief didn’t plague them, they couldn’t come up with this plan or they wouldn’t even consider it. At the beginning they wouldn’t see that much profit, but over time they would. Santo Padre could be so much more than just a border town.
“I’ll think about it.” He remained neutral. “Hey, you did good. I gotta watch my back.” He laughed to change your pout.
“Thanks. I should go. I gotta cook food for the club.” They all have gone a little bit feral. Bishop had a Duck Dynasty in training beard. With the tunnels closed off, beef with other charters, and Coco was going through his own stuff, the guys weren’t taking care of themselves.
Miguel escorted you to your car and kissed the crown of your head. “You can’t do everything, Superwoman. Slow down or I’ll pay a visit to Ezekiel.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you waved him off. “I’ll be fine. Be safe and make sure you wrap it up when you meet with Paloma.”
Miguel pulled his shades on and laughed. “Yeah, you still haven’t learned to use that filter.”
“Nope.” You copied his laugh and got into your car and drove off.
The guys were at the clubhouse by the time you got there. They were already going hard at the drinks. “Don’t you think you should slow down?” You took Bishop’s beer and replaced it with a water.
“Its because I love you that I didn’t break your hand, but if you don’t give me my beer back I will hurt your feelings.”
“Awww,” you tickled his beard. “Someone is hangry.” You kissed his cheek. “Eat first. You can’t run a motorcycle gang when you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Bishop couldn’t help but smile. Now of days, you were the only thing that made him smile. Thank god, you chose Boy Scout. “Then tell your boyfriend and his brother to stop getting into fights with soldiers.”
“They did what?!” Just then the two culprits walked in.
“Hey baby.” EZ opened his arms to hug you, but you slapped him on the back of his head. “What was that for?”
“Why are you getting into fights with soldiers?”
Angel sensed that it was time to dip before he got into trouble as well. “Get back here old man Reyes. You’re in trouble too.”
When you Angel spilled that Coco and Gilly were involved, you fussed at them too. The reprimand only stopped when you were reminded that you had to feed the guys.
You made sure everyone was fed before you made yourself a plate. EZ guided you to his RV, since you two didn’t see each other this morning and needed the alone time.
“Okay, we’ll go to Target sometime this week.” EZ laughed, while rubbing your leg. It never failed that you teased him about his lack of decorations and utensils in his RV. According to you, even if he didn’t have a traditional home, he needed to make it as comfortable as possible.
Running your fingers through his close cropped hair, you assured him it wouldn’t be that bad. After all, you couldn’t buy too many things, or it would overcrowd the place.
Easily, the two of you fell into the typical conversation of each other’s day. Usually, you tried to gloss over your days with Miguel, but something about today really bothered you. “Its like he’s one step from becoming unhinged. He hasn’t done anything with the club?”
EZ had to do his best not to tense up, because you would notice and he couldn’t bother telling you anymore lies. Dita’s death didn’t necessarily haunt him, but the consequences did. He should’ve known better that you would keep constant contact with Miguel. However, there was no way to stop it even if he wanted to.
Although, him and Angel were careful he was scared that Miguel would find out and take out revenge on you. Working with Big Bird made him paranoid. Then add in the updates you gave about Miguel, he was on high alert. Plus, that family was freaking nuts anyway. You didn’t need to be over there, but there was no way to tell you without revealing this secret.
“Nah, but maybe you should stop hanging around him if he’s that unhinged.”
Voice of reason or jealousy? Sometimes you couldn’t tell with Ezekiel. “He needs me. He needs someone with common sense, since his wife can’t- oh my god!” How could you forget the chisme. “Did I tell you he’s cheating on Emily? Like he’s having a full blown affair.”
That got you two talking. Your big, buff macho boyfriend doesn’t like to admit that he loves gossip, but he’s the first one asking for updates. Like the office love triangle that is going on at work, he’s always asking you if anything popped off that day.
“Can’t say I’m surprised.” You absentmindedly massaged his scalp. “I thought you hated cheaters? You didn’t go on your man ain’t shit rant on him?”
You dug a knuckle into his rib. “For your information, I did! I tell him each time to quit his shit, even though I don’t like she who shall not be named.”
EZ busted out laughing. You treated Emily like she was the damn plague. “She’s not Voldermort, you know.”
You tapped your chin. “You’re right. She’s that bitch everyone hates. The one in the pink outfit.”
EZ watched in amusement as you tried to figure out that character’s name. However, that amusement turned into horiness per usual. He would find you adorable then boom hardon. Sure did make things difficult when y’all were out in public.
“And oh poor Snape is dead now. I should rewatch those movies cause he’s a whole mo-, EZEKIEL!” There was a welcomed invasion in the form of EZ’s fingers in your core.
“Yes?” He nibbled on your neck.
“Did you get turned on by Snape?” Your giggle soon transformed into another moan.
That was music to his ears. That little attitude changed as soon as he applied pressure. “Baby that mouth is gonna get you in trouble one day.” His tongue explored your mouth. He loved how you couldn’t battle for dominance properly. You were subjected to his will.
“Ezekiel,” you gasped when he finally let you up for air. “If you can’t handle it, just say that.” Yeah, you still talked shit even you were clearly losing. You liked to call it one of your more admirable traits.
In a flash, your head was hanging off the edge of the bed. It was a real shame your view was distorted, because you loved seeing EZ in his full dominant energy. Your vision was inverted, so it wasn’t terrible but your brain wasn’t working properly for you to take it all in.
“Open up.” EZ hooked his thumb in your mouth and shoved his dick in.
This should be illegal. How did each time feel like a new experience? Ezekiel brought you to a higher plane each time.
“My pretty little whore.” His hands found their way around your throat.
EZ got lost in you, maybe too lost. The past few days started to come up. Soon he wasn’t choking you, instead he was holding down that punk he was fighting the other night. Luckily when he looked down your eyes snapped him out of it. “Mi gracia salvadora,” (My saving grace)
“Humm?”
EZ rubbed your cheek. “You’re my saving grace.” He pulled out and kneeled beside you. Couldn’t be romantic when you have your dick stuck down someone’s throat. “You.” He stroke back your hair. “You make me believe I’m a good person.”
Stopping his hand from smoothing back your hair, you grabbed his wrist and kissed the inside of his hand. You could tell he needed to be grounded in reality, in this moment. “Why do you say that baby?”
“Because God wouldn’t give me you if I wasn’t. I guess I’m not as horrible as I believe.”
You sat up and cupped his cheeks. “Ezekiel Reyes you are not a horrible person. And trust me God is most likely punishing you with me. I am not for the weak.”
EZ smacked his lips. “You ain’t lying there.”
If this wasn’t such an intimate moment, you would’ve slapped him. “You’re lucky I’m in a nice mood.” You continued on about how great of a person he was. Of course, he did some bad things. He was in an outlaw motorcycle gang, they’re very existence is going against the grain. But to his core, to his true self, Ezekiel Reyes is a good man and you’ll remind him of that every day if you have to.
“Okay, well this good man,” He crawled on top of you, pushing you against the headboard. “Is about to do very bad things to you.”
“Well you won’t get any complaints from me.”
Your laughter brought peace to EZ. As long as he had you, he had no worries. But unfortunately for him, those misdeeds were coming back to bite him in the ass.
--
On the other side of town, Miguel sat in his dark office with papers strewn everywhere and a drink in his hand. Something was wrong. Miguel could feel it in his bones. Dita Galindo was a proud woman. She would never commit suicide. She would never leave him or Cristobal. He would find out what happened and make whoever was responsible pay.
Characters: Steven Grant x black!reader, a little bit of Marc Spector x black!reader & Jake Lockely x black!reader
Summary: After a bad day at work, Steven finds a way to relax his girlfriend
Warnings: Smut, brief mentions of violence
A/N: Here's more of my works and if you want to be tagged click here. Also it was barley edited so don't mind the mistakes.
When it came to you and your food you didn’t play. It was in everyone’s best interest for you to eat before a disaster happened. However, today you didn’t mind.
Walking parallel to him a little ways across the room, so you could listen but not intrude on the children’s field trip, you listened to Steven give his tour.
You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. He was so confident, more in control. So much different than the cashier at the gift shop when you first met him.
It was the end of the tour and of course you had to go to the gift shop. As soon as you entered, you connected eyes with the clerk. He was a bit disheveled, but it fit him. Kinda like in a Spencer Reid kind of way.
You gave him a small smile. In return you received a smile while he tried to lean against the counter coolly. Unfortunately, he miscalculated his footing and ended up falling over.
Your friends laughed at the poor man. You smacked both of them. “Stop being mean.”
Talia covered her mouth and mumbled an apology while Kat couldn't stop. “I’m sorry, he’s just so awkward. Poor thing looks like Goob. He makes me want to take a nap.”
Tired of your friend making fun of the poor man, you stomped on her foot. “You don’t know what he’s going through.” You harshly whispered at her and then stomped away to go help the man.
He was so focused on the paperweights; he didn’t notice you helping him until the both of you reached for the same one. “Um, oh,” Steve stumbled over his words. On the regular, he was always stumbling over his words, but now with someone as beautiful as you in his face he couldn’t remember the English language. “W-wou-wo-would you like one?” It’s the Pyramid of Khafre.”
Actually, you wanted one with an Egyptian god, but his excitement and pure passion wouldn’t let you interrupt him. His confidence soared as went on with this subject. He was definitely a cuter version of Spencer Reid.
“So, this one was built for Pharoh Khafre, son of Khufu, which his tomb is the Great Pyramid of Giza.” He went on and on about facts that you would not normally obtain but seeing this stranger so happy made you happy. Being in his presence was like standing in the sun.
Some rude ass blonde, most likely his boss interrupted the lesson he was giving you and ordered him to restock and checked some people out. Somehow you followed him around, asking him to give you some more tidbits.
Soon your friends were ready to leave, but you weren’t. “Thank you, Steven I wish could hear some more.”
Steven was frantic. He may not have experience with women, but he was almost positively sure you were flirting with him. “Ask her out stupid. She clearly wants to be around you more for whatever reason. Just don’t invite her to your house, that’s not a date.” Marc suggested. He watched the whole interaction. Quite frankly, he was surprised Steven held his own. Even he would’ve been nervous with those siren eyes on him.
“Shut up, I know what a date is.” Steven hissed.
You looked to where Steven was staring at and couldn’t figure out who he was talking to? “Huh?”
Steven ran his fingers through his unruly curls, attempting to find courage. Ten simple words. He could do it. He’s been talking to you all night. What’s the difference now? She liked you and not Marc. This was his finally his chance for a genuine connection. “Um- wou- um,” His eyes darted everywhere. He could see your friends at the door, snickering at him.
“Do it, you idiot before she becomes uninterested.” A deeper, more annoying voice yelled at him.
Not only did Steven had Marc in his head, but now he had Khonsu yelling at him too. It was so loud in his head, he didn’t know he was yelling. “WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME?!” That caught the attention of everyone in the gift shop. Great, now they could get front row seats of him getting rejected.
You couldn’t help but giggle. His nervousness was cute. Nodding your head, you gave him a shy smile. “I would love to. Here’s my number.” You gave have one last wave and left with your friends.
Steven picked up the piece of paper and held it close to his chest. Maybe things were finally looking up for him.
Your flashback to your first meeting with Steven was interrupted by the preteens asking a bunch of questions. It was a true testament to Steven’s transformation. At the beginning of the tour, those kids looked like they would rather be in school than at the museum, but now they were asking him questions faster than he could answer them.
“And that’s how Osiris became King of the Underworld.” The children clapped. They wanted more, but their teachers ushered them into the gift shop.
Once the last child left his area, he ran/walked to you and scooped you up in his arms. “My beautiful girl.” It never failed, Steven always complimented you when he greeted you.
“And here’s my handsome lead tour guide.” You scratched his beard, making him lean into your hand. He was always this soft with you. He never raised his voice to you in anger. Steven always made you feel safe.
He led you out to the outdoor courtyard. “Hungry, my love?” He set out the food before you, already knowing your answer. “You could’ve eaten without me.”
“No! Lunch is not the same without you.” You hugged his arm and then kissed his cheek. “Never suggest anything so stupid.”
Steven chuckled as he spread out the lunch. “Sorry, love.” He fed a strawberry to you. His own hunger was forgotten as he tried to satisfy yours first.
“Eat.” You pushed some food towards Steve.
The two of you sat contently as you enjoyed lunch. Too bad it went by too fast. Per usual, you got caught up in Steven’s new lesson.
It was hard to part, but somehow you pulled away from him. “I’ll cook tonight.” You scratched his beard while you kissed him.
“Okay, love. Laters gators.” He kissed you through your car window once more and watched you drive off. “I’m one lucky man.”
--
Dinner was off the schedule. Your coworker pissed you off. That bitch really had the nerve to tell someone not to do a favor for you when you just did a favor for her the other day. The audacity of this bitch. It really ruined the rest of your day. As soon you got home, you poured yourself some wine and waited for Steven. Right when he walked in you began venting.
“And that’s the last time I’m helping her lazy ass.” It felt good to offload all of that. You felt lighter, ignorant to your surroundings or otherwise you would’ve noticed the switch.
The chilling air was the first clue before the New York accent. “One conversation is all I need.”
You shook your head, pinching your eyebrows. “Jake, then why are you holding a knife?”
He looked at you and then the offending weapon and then back at you and shrugged. “It’s my emotional support knife.”
Jake’s unhinged eyes left, and Marc’s concerned ones popped up. “You don’t know the meaning of conversation. I’ll talk with her.”
“First of all, Jake, why doesn’t it surprise me you have an emotional support knife. And second of all, mates none of us will be having a conversation with the shrew. YN can handle this.”
A smile crept up on your face. Steven was so supportive of you. You stroke his face. “Thank you, baby.”
Steven leaned into your touch. “Okay, mates no more interruptions from you two.” His focus returned to you. “I got the perfect thing to make you feel better.”
“What?” You played with his bouncy curls.
Steven’s choice of relaxation was reading a book of poetry as he massaged your feet while you drank some wine. Though, it only worked for some time.
Instead of being relaxed, you were horny and revved up. Steven’s curls kept falling, so every once in a while, he would push them up, making you jealous it wasn’t your fingers. Constantly, pushing them back, must have gotten on his nerves because he put his glasses-your new favorite accessories of his- on top of his head. To torture you even further, he scratched his beard making you focus on his lips. The lips that were on you for endless hours bringing you multiple orgasms a couple of nights ago. Oh, and that beard you left you soaking. Yeah, you weren’t going to be able to focus until you got some relief.
Every once in a while, Steven would kiss your foot, but his focus was on the book. Luckily you had a gown on so your movements wouldn’t alert him.
Your hands roamed your body slowly. Each brush you pretended was Steven’s hand and not yours. You reached your flowing destination just as Steven began reading in French. Great. This man was gonna be the death of you. Every word he spoke turned you into a bigger ball of horniness.
You did your best to stay quiet and not distract Steven, but everything felt too good for you not to vocalize it. “Oh my god, Steven.” You sucked your own nipple, trying to recreate the sensation Steven perfected.
“What’s wrong, Love?” Sometimes Steven could be so oblivious. It was frustrating and cute at the same time.
“Need…you.” You were able to pant out.
His eyes had to be deceiving him. Were you really touching yourself as he read to you? He slid his glasses down to their proper place. “Oh baby,” he licked his lips. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Your voice…it makes me so damn wet.”
A bit of panic soared through you when he set the book down. “No!” Quickly, you put your foot between the book and the couch. “Keep reading.”
He wanted to put his all in pleasing you, but whatever princess wants, princess gets. With his right forearm, he held down the book while his left hand explored your valley of treasure.
For someone who could be as awkward as Steven one would think he possessed no rhythm. Granted a few months ago that would’ve been true, but not now. The cadence of his words matched the movement of his fingers.
At this point you didn’t know what was turning you on more, his voice or his fingers. Naturally Steven’s voice was a bit higher than you used to prefer, but oh- when he reads. He reaches this beautiful deep timber, that you could feel in your bones and most importantly your pussy.
Do not write. I am sad and would like to fade away.
The fine summers without you are nights without light.
I have folded my arms unable to reach you;
And to knock at my heart is to beat on my grave.
Do not write.
Do not write. Let us learn only to die in ourselves
Ask only of God… of yourself, whether I loved you.
In the depths of your absence, to hear that you love me
Is to be hearing from heaven without ever ascending.
Do not write.
Do not write. I am fearful of you and afraid of my memory
That has kept your voice and calls to me often;
Do not show me the water that cannot be drunk
For your cherished writing brings your portrait alive.
Do not write.
Do not write those sweet words that I dare not read any more.
It seems that your voice spreads them over my heart
And, as I see them through the glow of your smile,
It seems they are stamped with a kiss on my heart.
Do not write.
“So sad.” You stopped a tear from sliding further down your face.
Steven threw his prized book to the side. The only thing that could get in between him and your pussy was an imminent threat to your life. “What? The poem? I- we would never leave you.”
“I know,” you softly chuckled, scratching his beard. “It’s so sad I can cum to such a depressing poem.”
Salt and pepper curls fell into your face as Steven hovered over you. You got the perfect view of him being mesmerized by your pussy. Anticipation and horniness built up as you watched him wet his fingers and prepped you for his dick.
Greediness overcame you. You needed all parts of his body touching yours. Forcefully you pulled him down for a kiss while he gracefully entered you.
It didn’t take long for Steven to regain control of everything. Just like Marc and Jake, Steven insisted on taking care of you. It was about the only thing all three could completely agree on. Making love was all about you and you came first…multiple times. Unless you were in trouble with Marc and especially with Jake.
Steven cradled your face. His hold on you grew tighter with every kiss. With Marc and Jake there was an expected roughness, but Steven was usually softer. He made love to you in a delicate and gentle way, but no less satisfying. Not tonight though. Les Separes ran rapid in his mind. He needed to feel you. A constant reminder that you’re here with him and going nowhere. He never wanted to relate to that poem.
“Steven.” Your breath hitched. The way he grabbed the meaty flesh by your hips, you knew it would bruise but you didn’t mind. His hips snapped roughly. Thank God all three men knew the difference between harder and faster, but Steven was the master of it.
His lips were barely half an inch above yours. “More beautiful than Hathor.”
“Who was that again?” You pretended to forget. Seeing him geek out was a huge turn on.
It was obvious you asked to get a rile out of him. You were the perfect student for him, absorbing every fact he stated, even if it was one, he said offhandedly “Later, babes.” He nipped your ear while he pumped into you. “Right now, let me ravish you.”
“Ravish away.” You moaned.
Steven pulled away for a few moments, to flip you around. His plan was to take you from behind, but your creaminess was begging to be eaten.
At the first you lick, you almost collapse. Your bud was already so sensitive, that even crossing your legs would have set you off. “Steven,” you groaned, reaching behind you, and tugging on his unruly curls, simply guiding him.
Near his own orgasm, Steven pulled up and slowly entered you. “Oh love,” he kissed down your spine. “I could never get tired of you. Thank you for giving me a chance.” You were the only woman to truly show him what love is.
“I love you, Steven Grant.” You cupped his face, leading him to kiss you.
The two of your moans were muffled by the kisses and the sloshing of your sexes. Steven folded over you once he came down from his climax. “Mind if we stay here, love?” He kissed down your spine again, squeezing your hip intermittently.
“Not at all.” You laid there content with Steven’s weight comfortably on top of you.
Sleep was claiming you when you were alerted by the rolling of your nipples and tiny little nips on your neck.
“Querida, you’ve had enough rest.”
Uh-oh. You should’ve known better. When one gets a taste then they all want a taste. Better prepare for a long night.
Characters: EZ Reyes x black!reader, Miguel Galindo x black!reader
Summary: No one lives forever
Warnings: Death of a loved one, hospitals, just major sad vibes.
A/N: Its finally here! I wanted to wait til I finished the whole series, but I decided I should give y'all something. Hopefully I'll finish the series soon enough.
Life was finally getting together. EZ was a great boyfriend, the sex was even better, your job was the best you ever had, you were back in school, and your dad was making some positive progress. Even things with Miguel were good. You realized how much he needed a friend that he wasn’t paying.
The only complaint you had was that EZ was distracted by something. Him and Angel were going through stuff. It wasn’t club shit or Adelita. Whatever it was, it was something with why they weren’t talking to each other a few months ago. Maybe you could get it out of EZ at lunch today. As you gathered your things to meet him, Frankie met you at your desk.
“Ugh,” you dropped your purse. “Which Reyes I gotta bail out now?” Since their little reconciliation, the Reyes brother bonding time consisted of getting in trouble or arrested together.
“Uh YNN,” Frankie took a deep breath. “It’s not EZ, Angel, or anyone from the club for that matter.”
The tone in his voice told you all you needed to know. “No.” Luckily your desk was right behind you to prevent you from falling.
“He’s at the hospital, right now. He still has time. I’m here to escort you.”
You shot a quick text to EZ, saying you had to cancel due to an important case. He had other shit to deal with and you didn’t want him distracted while doing club business.
Every criticism possible ran through your brain as you rushed through the hospital. This morning he did look a little pale. You should’ve stayed home instead of being occupied with work.
“You’re Ms. YLN?” A young black man in a white coat approached you when he saw you push through the double doors.
Thank God you didn’t have to search for any medical personnel. You’ve been through this before and they barely spared you a glance.
“Yes.” You caught your breath and tried to assess his face. Even in this short amount of time, you were too impatient to wait for the news. “Are you my father’s doctor?”
“Yes ma’am.” Dr. Andrews escorted you to a more private waiting room. It was reserved for the hospital more important clientele. You were a girlfriend to a Mayan but more importantly you were a friend to Miguel Galindo. You would be treated like royalty in order to avoid the wrath of Galindo.
Your anxiety was at an all-time high. You were biting your lip and fidgeting with your hands as you threw rapid fire questions at the man.
“He’s strong Ms. YLN. Most wouldn’t have held on this long after that type of episode. It’s a testam-,”
You didn’t need him to make you feel better, you needed the truth. “How long does he have?” You cut off Dr. Andrews.
He bowed his head and sighed. “At most, til the end of the night.”
“Thank you.” Tears were near but you kept it together. “Can I see him?”
Dr. Andrews led you to the room and reminded you to call him or any of the staff if you needed help.
Quietly you entered the room, but your dad still heard you. His head was already turned in your direction.
“Hey handsome.”
He coughed and shook his head. “Don’t you know it’s not good to lie to the dead?”
“Good thing you’re not dead.” You kissed his forehead and sat in the chair next to his bed.
“Yet.” A laugh that was meant to soothe caused more alarm when it turned into what seemed like a never-ending cough.
You tried to mask your grief with a snarky remark. “Seems like God didn’t like your joke.”
“Too bad. He’s gonna get a up close and personal performance very soon.”
Your dad continued to ignore your disapproving stare. “Pumpkin,” he patted your hand. “We always knew this day was coming.”
Leaving your seat, you laid your head gently by his side. “It was supposed to happen much later than this. After you walked me down the aisle and I have kids that you love to give too much sugar to.”
“I know, baby, but it’s my time. I told you that I was only holding on until I knew a good man could take care of you.” He cooed at you as you tried to get your crying under control. “I’ll always be with you.” He tapped your heart.
Despite this sad time, you were able to laugh. “You really love EZ, don’t ya?”
“Yeah, I do. Now give me that fancy phone.” He pointed at your purse. “Turn on that camera.”
Your dad recorded three videos. You held the camera for two and had to step out for the last one, which you assumed was for you. One was for EZ and the most shocking was the one he made for Miguel. When you tried to hide your surprise, your dad said Kennedy talks too loud on the phone and he knew the whole time. The only reason he didn’t say anything was one, you were grown and two, he knew you would make the right decision after all.
“Do me one more favor, sweetheart.” Your dad waved you over.
You got on the bed with him and let your dad hold you. It was reminiscent of all the times you would join him on the couch and watch tv with him. The last time this must have happened was after your mom’s funeral.
“What do you need, daddy?” You buried your nose in his gown. Even in clothes that did not belong to him, his scent is still strong.
He rubbed your back, babying you for the last time. “Sing me that Beyonce song. The one she did at that coach thing.”
Laughing, you knew exactly what he was talking about. “Daddy, it’s called Coachella.”
“Whatever,” he waved you off. “Coach, Coachella. Just sing the version of that song.”
Love On Top was your mom’s favorite Beyonce song. It was one of the last songs, her and your dad danced to before she died. Then Coachella happened and your dad fell in love with that version.
“Honey, honey. I can see the stars all the way from here.” You softly began singing. It was hard to focus on the lyrics with his breathing getting shallow, but you pushed through.
Halfway through the song, the machines started beeping. The doctors and nurses rushed into the room, but you shooed them out. You didn’t want your last moment with your dad surrounded by strangers.
Even when you knew his heart stopped, you continued singing. Your dad didn’t raise a quitter. “Baby 'cause you're the one that I love. Baby you're the one that I need. You're the only one I see. Baby baby it's you. You're the one that gives your all. You're the one that always calls. When I need you everything stops. Finally you put my love…” you clutched onto the gown and tried to get your tears under control. “On top.” You whispered the last line before breaking down.
Meanwhile, across town inside of a tunnel the Mayans met with Galindo. They were trying to find a way to save Adelita. EZ was paying attention until he got a text from Kennedy. “Oh my god.” He unknowingly said out loud.
“Is there something you would like to share with us Ezekiel?” Miguel couldn’t stand being in the same space as EZ. Any chance he could, he would try to knock him down a peg. Petty, but in the end EZ won, so he could handle these little jabs.
EZ ignored him and turned to Bishop. “I gotta go Bish.”
As the President and the new Mayan got into a little spat about him disrupting and leaving a meeting early, Miguel got a text as well. It was the doctor he assigned to your father. His heart dropped as he read the message. He made a promise to stay away from you as much as possible, but right now you needed as much support as you could get. “Uh, its fine.” He turned to his consigliere and showed him the text. “You can handle everything else. I’ll call you when you can come.”
Marcus nodded his head. He wanted to be there for you, but business had to be done. He would text his wife and the patriarch of the Reyes family to get something together. This time you would need your made family.
Miguel walked ahead without one look behind him. “Ezekiel, Angel with me.” Bishop nodded his head and told the boys to give you a hug from him.
Thankfully, they hit every green light. It didn’t matter though. They all would’ve ran red lights for you.
The hospital had to take the body and Kennedy forced you to get some food, so you were roaming around the hospital. In the middle of the hallway, you bumped into Emily of all people. God was really testing you. Luckily, she either saw that you were distraught, or she was just in a rush, because she ran off without a snide remark.
“What the fuck?!” You saw an unlit cigarette on the ground. Is this bitch still smoking while pregnant? You would have to tell Miguel about that later.
A few more minutes of aimlessly roaming the halls and suddenly you were startled by a barrage of footsteps. Looking up you saw EZ with Angel and Miguel right behind him, running towards you. He knocked the air out of you, since he didn’t even try to slow down.
“How did you know?” You clutched onto his kutte for dear life. It was familiarity and your safe space, exactly what you needed right now.
“Kennedy.” He held you tight. EZ wished he could protect you from this heartbreak, but unfortunately life was kind to no one. “What do you need right now?” He knew his condolences would do nothing to soothe your broken heart. His focus was to make sure you were taken care of.
“I already ate. Kennedy made me eat.”
Probably not enough. He saw the half-eaten Oreos in your pocket. He’ll try to get you to eat a real meal later.
You slightly let go to wipe your tears and gave Miguel and Angel a small smile. Their presence really did help. “Uh, nothing really. I’m gonna get a head start on the funeral.”
“Absolutely not.” Miguel interrupted. “Tell me what you want for the services and I’ll organize everything. You just focus on you.”
Finally, you accepted help from Miguel without a fight. Exhaustion made you too tired to fight. Plus, your dad deserved the best.
Angel then hooked his arm around your neck. “Let’s get you home. Where’s your keys?” He took them and handed them to EZ. “I’ll get Coco to bring the van to pick up your bike.” He told his brother.
You hugged Angel and Miguel once more, before going to your car. After that everything was whirlwind. On your way to the house, you cried some more. Then when you got there, you attempted to clean up, but EZ had none of that. He made you take a bath, which he joined to assure you did.
Dinner was something light, but you barely ate it. At least you made attempt which was fine by EZ. After you fell asleep rather quickly, EZ cleaned up, In the midst of cleaning, Miguel showed up. The two actually had a civil conversation.
“Her family believes death is a celebration. Have you seen a New Orleans funeral?” EZ kept busy as he spoke to the man.
Miguel nodded his head.
EZ took the trash out with Miguel following behind. “I know you want to help out which is great. But leave her a little bit of work. She’s gonna need something to distract her for a little bit.”
“Noted. Take care of her, Ezekiel.” This was as good as it was going to get. Normally, he would’ve shook his hand, but he still couldn’t stand him.
“Don’t worry, I will.” The two looked at each other and have a silent agreement. After this, Migel would wean himself out of your life as he has been doing.
Summary: Finally you take Steve's offer to use his washer and dryer, but are you willing to pay the price?
Warnings: Smut and overall cuteness
Every single week, you and your cute ass neighbor would have the same conversation. Somehow Steve would catch you in the hallway whenever you had to peer over the mountain of clothes in your hamper on your way to the apartment’s washroom. It would never fail, no matter your protest about working in the infectious disease unit that he would take the hamper with ease and set it down for you.
Each time the conversations would get longer and you wouldn’t want them to end, but you knew he was tired from saving the world or work would interrupt, either way he would always have to leave. No matter the reason he had to leave, the conversation always ended the same.
“You know instead of me carrying your heavy-,”
You held up one church finger. “I doubt its that heavy when your able to move cars.” You smirked.
He scoffed and looked at the ground, before staring up at you through those supernaturally long eyelashes for a man. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” He moved one of your stray braids or locs from the front of your face. “You can always use my machines instead of hauling that down here.”
“And what’s it gonna cost me?” Please say pussy, please say pussy, please say pussy.
Steve always dreaded this question. Yes he wanted to spend more time with you, but his intentions grew less pure each time he asked this question. He had a hard time, hiding his baser desires. Especially after he saw you in that sports bra and shorts. “A cup of coffee?”
“I would bu-,”
“But you just worked in the infectious disease unit. One day that ain’t gonna work.” He walked out backwards so he could look at you for as long as possible.
“But today ain’t the day Ice Man!”
Steve laughed. “Have a nice night, YN.”
“You too, Steve,”
One day you didn’t have the energy to go all the way to the basement. Work and the gym tuckered you out. Steve’s washroom was so much closer and he had a couch.
Once Steve opened the door, he knew you were finally caving in. “Gonna cost you a cup of coffee and conversation.” He smirked, leaning against his doorway in nothing but a wife beater and gray sweats. Who knew Captain Steve Rogers was apart of the hoochie daddy community.
“I’m good for it.”
Before you could make your way in, Steve took the hamper. “You’re in luck, I just made a fresh pot.”
“Can’t get a Keruig like the rest of us, sir?” You poured yourself a cup, then browsed his albums. You could easily see he was making his way through the music he missed. The albums were in order by year. ‘Marvin Gaye? My daddy loves him.”
Steve used his stealth to sneak behind you. It gave him the chance to inhale your scent with you unaware. He had to get you to lay your head on his throw pillows. That way he could fall asleep to your scent. “A friend suggested it. I got a whole list in a little black book.”
“Like of everything you missed?!” You jumped, not knowing he was so close to you. Accidentally you spilled your coffee on him. “Oh my gosh Steve.” You took a paper towel and pressed it against his shirt. Fuck this man was made of steel. His body felt like a wall. “Shit!” Some dripped to the front of his pants. Without thinking you patted that dry as well. Oh sweet baby Jesus and the grown one too. Steve was packing some heat below the belt. Just like the dork you were, you couldn’t stop patting his dick.
As if it were possible, Steve was getting harder with every pat. His hand snapped out to reach for your wrist.
This was the most embarrassing day ever. You were never talking to Steve again. He was looking at you as if you wanted to murder you. Probably because you violated his space and spilled hot ass coffee on him. “Steve, I’m so sorry.”
Fuck it, he had to go for it. Natasha and Tony complained he wasn’t living his life. Right now seems like the best time to start. “You should be.” He used the hand he grabbed to pull you closer to him. His thigh rested right between your valley of sweetness. “How are you ever are gonna repay me?” His nose ran alongside your pulsepoint.
Was Steve flirting with you? By the way he rubbed his cock against you it was safe to assume that he was. “Um, I could cook you something. I can throw down in the kitchen.”
“I want something to eat, but it ain’t in the kitchen.”
Has this man been in your dreams? Too many times this scenario has been a featured film in your dreams.
“You can pay me by wetting my dick with that juicy pussy instead of coffee.” Consent, shit. Steve’s body language softened and he backed away to give you space. He wanted you to think with a clear head and with no pressure. “Uh but only if you want to. Because you can back away at any time.”
You interrupted Steve’s rant by sticking his fingers in your pussy. “Take your payment.”
A switch went off in Steve’s head. Kind and nurturing Steve went to the background. “So fucking tight.” He watched in amazement as his fingers collected your honey.
“Steve,” your back arched. His fingers were thicker than you ever experienced. “Please,” you scooted away.
He hooked his arm around your waist. “What you want pretty girl? You want to cum?” He sucked your nipple through your shirt.
To stop from alerting your neighbors, you bit your lip. Steve bit your nipple. That sting with the combination of the fabric of your shirt had you in ecstasy. “Yes,” you threw your head back.
Steve pulled your chin down. His cool blue eyes had fire behind them. “Then don’t fucking run from me.” He growled.
Picking you up, his fingers never left your pussy. Mid-air he made you cum as he walked you to the washer. Steve set you on top of the machine. The mere vibration of the home appliance had you cumming again.
Steve already knew he was hooked, but right now he decided he would never let you go. “Taste.” His fingers were covered in you. They shone under the small light.
The swirl of your tongue around his fingers made him make a mental note to have you on your knees tonight giving the same treatment to his dick.
“Don’t swallow yet.” He held your chin as he kissed you. Maybe he could forget about the head. Kissing you had to be his favorite thing, especially tasting your ambrosia on your tongue.
He pumped his cock a couple of times. He slid inside of you. “Holy,” Steve buried his head in the crook of your neck. There he bit your shoulder, leaving his mark.
“My god.” You sighed. “Steve!” His hands, his mouth, his dick, and the washing machine made for the perfect team up. Your senses were overloaded. You couldn’t focus on just one thing.
Steve had to remind himself to keep moving. The faces you made were better than any sunset.
“Steve!” You refrained from pushing yourself off the washing machine. You were so overstimulated, you couldn’t form any other words but Steve’s name.
He sensed your impending orgasm. “Give it to me. Give it all to me.”
Everything happened in perfect synchronization. Your orgasm, Steve’s orgasm, and the washing machine all went off at the same time. One of the neighbors had to believe that a party or something was going on from how loud you were.
Steve caressed your sex drunk face. He stashed it in his memory back. He would have to draw it later, but now he had other concerns.at the moment. “Another load?” He massaged your clit.
Oh yeah, you were definitely only doing your laundry from here now on.
Summary: On the run, Y/N Y/L/N finds refuge in Santo Padre, California at the Reyes Ranch. She tells herself while she’s there not to make any real connections, but then comes Angel Reyes, her boss. He too is avoiding connections for different reasons, but there’s something about Y/N that keeps pulling him back. Can both resist temptation? Or will the end up risking their hearts for true love?
