#riz mayans

[bullet-prooflove]

Absolutely losing my shit this morning...

....because my husband woke me up with a Cameo from Antonio Jaramillo who I have ADORED since Mayans and I'm still fucking reeling.

[mysoulisasunflower]

Antonio Jamarillo as Michael 'Riz' Ariza

Mayans MC | 1.3 "Búho/Muwan"

(gifset 2)

[a-daydreamers-stories]

~Little late but here’s the first Halloween of Anarchy this year! 3 years now and I still love doing these. Hopefully, you do too!~

Reader’s POV

“Riz!” I yelled through the house as I riffled through the bags he just brought home. Riz popped his head through the kitchen doorway and tilted his head. 

“What’s up, baby?” Riz asked. 

“What the hell did you get?” I pulled out the black licorice and raised an eyebrow. “Who the hell are you giving this to?” 

“The… kids?” Riz said, confused. 

“What… wait what?” I looked at him like he was insane. “What child would want to eat this?” 

“I don’t know… I mean I like it.” Riz stepped into the kitchen and pouted slightly. 

“Well… that’s a whole other issue.” I waved that off before lifting up the bag. “This… This is not a trick or treating candy, this is the type of candy that gets our house egged.” 

“No, it’s not.” Riz pouted more. I sighed and set the bag down before moving over to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck before playing with his hair. He sighed and leaned into the touch. 

“Baby, I love you but if you give these kids this licorice then they will attempt to burn down our house,” I told him, softly. 

“Ugh, fine…” Riz groaned. “What should I go get?” 

“I don’t know Kit Kats, Reese’s, Tootsie rolls?” I suggested. 

“You just made fun of me for Black Licorice than you suggest Tootsie rolls.” Riz teased me. 

“Shut up, at least Tootsie rolls are chocolate.” I scoffed and pushed him playfully. “Go get new candy.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Riz smirked before kissing me softly. He pulled away and I rolled my eyes.

“Dumbass,” I said affectionately. 

“Yes, but I’m your dumbass.” Riz pointed out with a goofy smile.

“You are.” I smiled brightly before kissing him again. “Now, go get candy before they sell out.” 

“Yeah… yeah… yeah.” Riz chuckled before pulling away and heading back to the store.

~Hope you enjoy!~

Tags-

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@simam12

[mayansofanarchy]

How would the Mayans behave during a fight and how would you guys make up?

Angel: He would have a hard time staying calm. He would try his best to be steady and talk to you but soon he’s yelling and stomping around. He’s especially bratty if he feels like he’s not being heard. He would make up with you by giving you neck kisses and hugs calling you every pet name in the book. He would do something cute like leaving you a flower next to your night stand, probably in a beer bottle.

EZ: EZ knows how to deal with hostility (he was in jail for almost a decade, he has become a master of conflict resolution). He stays cool as a cucumber, speaking softly and slowly. You might feel annoyed because he’s speaking to you like he’s trying to tame a wild animal, but eventually you’re both talking it out in a very adult way. To make up with you, he would bring you a book with a note written on the inside cover about a passage in the book that made him think of you when he read it. It’s romantic as hell and very EZ.

Coco: Cursing. Loud cursing. He’s so frustrated every other word is ‘fuck’ punctuated by him running his hands through his hair. He also mumbles under his breath a lot which makes you even angrier, which leads to more cursing. He’s trying to explain, but is struggling to do that, so in between the ‘fuck’ he’s silent. To make it up with you, he picks up all his clothes off the floor and he orders a pizza so you don’t have to cook. When you get home he says, “About last night, my bad.”

Gilly: What could he ever do wrong? He is so unproblematic (so far). But on the off chance he fucks up, he’s saying sorry off the bat to nip any argument in the bud.

Bishop: He lets you get it all out before he attempts to respond to you. The fight is a short one because he is clear and concise with his points. He is the head of his M.C. and that requires self control and a clear head in order to be successful, he brings those skills into an argument. He makes it up to you by admitting he was wrong and adjusting his behavior to reflect his sincerity.

Riz: He tends to be chill, but when he’s upset he can get confrontational. He may even throw some of your mistakes in your face during the course of the argument. To make it up to you, he brings you your favorite flowers and a teddy bear with a heart saying something like, “I’m Beary Sorry.” Very very corny, but it works.

[bullet-prooflove]

I’m troublesome, I’ve fallen

Riz is fucked.

You see it the moment you open the door and see that silly, shit eating grin across his features. His arm is slung over Taza’s shoulders, the older man supporting his weight as he beams at you. In the background you can see Neron, sitting in the van, watching the exchange with his sunglasses on despite the fact it’s dusk.

“What’s he on?” You ask Taza, opening the door even wider so that both men can pass through.

You catch sight of the knee brace on Riz’s leg, his jeans torn from the knee down and spattered with blood. His shirt is ripped, the white bandage peeking out from underneath the shredded fabric.

“Oxy.” He tells as you shut the door behind him, before helping Riz towards the bedroom.

“Fun.” You utter, following them in and flicking the light on. “What happened?”

“Came off his bike.” He tells you.

There’s more to it than that, you can tell by the way he says it but you don’t ask. Riz tries to keep you as far away from club business as he possibly can and Taza respects that.

“We were going to drop him off at Vicki’s.” Taza tells you as he sets Riz down on the edge of the bed. “But he tried to abscond and come here instead. Stitches turned her back for a second and he was already halfway to the van. He still hauls ass despite the fracture.”

“Wanted to see my girl.” Riz explains as he tumbles back onto the sheets. He looks up at you with whisky coloured eyes and pupils as small as pin pricks. “I almost died today.”

You rise your eyes to meet Taza’s. The older man crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head.

“Fractured kneecap and torn ligament. Stitches says he won’t need surgery as long as he stays off the leg. She’ll check in on him in the morning.”

“You need to stop misbehaving.” You tell Riz, booping him on the nose with your fingertip.

“I promise I’ll be good.” He mumbled, capturing your hand and bringing it to his lips. “I just wanted to see you.”

“Uh huh,” You say, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. “Don’t move while I see out Taza.”

“Come back.” He murmurs as your hand slides out of his grasp.

“In a minute.” You promise him before closing the door quietly behind you.

You find Taza in the living room, casting his eye over the vinyl you have on the record player. Your headphones are resting on the arm of the easy chair.

“Being back in Santa Padre seems to suit you.” He remarks with a small smile, taking note of your belongings intermingled with Riz’s.

“It does.” You tell him with a small smile.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He tells you leaning over and placing a kiss on your cheek. “Take care of our boy and let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course.” You say before closing the door behind him. --- Riz sleeps with his face buried in the curve of your throat, his arm thrown across your stomach. He snuggles into your warmth because he needs to be close in the aftermath. It was close today; he thinks too fucking close. It’s not the worst accident he’s had but it’s a shock to the system because he's only just got you back and he doesn’t expect to be confronted with his own mortality.

It hurts like hell the next morning, once the Oxy’s worn off. His hip, his arm, his knee and the rest of his leg. It’s hard for him to differentiate what’s bruising and what’s worse. He groans as he shifts, his memories of yesterday hazy.

“Stay still.” You murmur as you prop your head up on the pillow.

“Fuck…” he drawls the word out as he hisses through his teeth.

“Yea, you got into a nasty accident.” You remind him. “You’re gonna be laid up for a little while.”

“Sucks.” He mutters.

“Yes, it does.” You agree as you shift into a sitting position. He moves, placing his head upon your lap, your fingers combing through his hair, and he closes his eyes once more. There’s a reassurance in the sensation, a sense of peace that floods him. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Love Me Or Leave Me - Michael 'Riz' Ariza x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life, @danzer8705 @mysoulisasunflower @vannabanana1995 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @sxmmarie @xmoonknightlyx @camelia35 @queeniesdiary

Riz is beautiful, dynamic, adventurous, everything you have ever wanted in a man. He’s easy going, laid back and he deserves the fucking world. He deserves better than you, better than a girl who’s struggling to make ends meet with two jobs and part time gigging, one with an ex-husband whose refusing a divorce and is dragging out every single detail of their relationship through the courts. He deserves something free and easy, someone that doesn’t come with the complications that you do.

That girl he’s with, the one at the bar who leans in close with her tits on display, you know her. It’s Lola, one of the sex workers from Vicki’s, she’s beautiful and fierce, she knows what she wants and how to please a man. You don’t stand a chance. So, you bow out because what is the fucking point.

You don’t tell him that your leaving, you simply pack your guitar away in the storeroom that Patrick let’s you store it in and slip out the back door. You don’t want the drama, the explanations, you know the two of them have been together before, you can see it in the way Lola looks at him, the way she touches him.

On the drive home you think of the two of them, lipstick staining his mouth as he fucks her in the bathroom. Him wrapped up in her sheets as she rides him, part of you is angry at yourself for not staking a claim, for not making a point of showing how you feel but that’s the problem isn’t it? You can’t tell Riz how you feel, you try to show him but there’s power in words. You know that.

This thing between the two of you has never had a label. You didn’t want one because giving it a name makes it too real, it means your invested and that terrifies you because you’re still trying to untangle the mess from the last time. Sometimes it feels like you’ll never be free.

Fuck you hate this; you hate how scared you are to admit your feelings. How every time you open your mouth to express it, the words catch in your throat and instead you kiss him, hoping to pour your emotions into that kiss, hoping that he knows.

But he doesn’t know, how could he?

You go round and round like this until you reach your house in a shitty part of town. It’s ramshackle at best but it’s yours for now. The rent is affordable with what you make, and you’ve learned to be thrifty. Most of the things you own come from second hand stores. Some out of necessity but others…

You can feel a history or a story in a piece of furniture that’s been preowned, it speaks to you in a way you can’t explain, the same way music does.

You aren’t home for long when there’s a quiet tap on your door. Long enough for you to change into a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and pyjama shorts, you’ve pulled your hair up into a messy bun and put your song book on the table because it’s going to be one of those nights, you need to channel all this emotion somehow and why not into a song. There’s something cathartic about transforming your heartbreak into notes, about creating something from the anguish.

When you open the door Riz is standing there, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he studies you.

“You left.” He states.

“Hm.”

There’s a million things you want to say, you feel the build up of emotion in your chest. You want to bare your soul to this man, to give him everything, to tell him despite the fact it’s only been a couple of months you love him. That you loved him the minute your eyes met across a crowded bar, and you saw him smile. As usual the words die in your throat because being vulnerable does not come naturally to you, not during your marriage to Wyatt, when it was used as a weapon and certainly not after.

“I wanna talk about that.” He tells you, before tilting his head towards your living room. “Can I come in?”

You open the door for him with a sigh because you know this is how it ends. The man you love, reminding you that this thing you have is casual, that he doesn’t owe you a god damned thing. That’s one of the things you love about Riz, he’s open and honest, he makes his intentions clear, there’s no expectations.

His thumbs loop in the rungs of his jeans as he steps inside, he notes the song book on the table, your dress from tonight tossed in front of the washing machine. You’ve scrubbed your face free of make up and you still look fucking radiant. He wonders how you do that, how you pluck at all of his heartstrings at once. You’re like this melody in his head, one he follows but can’t quite capture no matter how hard he’s tries. He wants you; he always wants you, he wants to tell you that but you’ve been burned before, you’re skittish, he gets that but he also knows that things have come to a head. That he needs to lay his cards down on the table because you can’t keep going on this way, it’s make or break. He needs to know what this is because he’s already too far gone, he can’t do casual with you, doesn’t want to. He’s all or nothing, ride or die. 

“That girl tonight, you know I’ve fucked her.” He says before realising maybe that isn’t the best place to start. “Before you, not since us.”

“You don’t have to explain anything.” You say as you linger in the living doorway, your shoulder coming to rest on the doorframe.

“No I don’t.” He agrees. “But I want to.”

You shrug. It’s a cold gesture but fuck he knows you; he knows it’s your way of protecting yourself, of getting distance. He can’t stand the idea of that, of a chasm between the two of you, right now it feels like there’s a gulf and he fucking hates it so he just comes out with it.

“I love you.” he says frankly, his hand rubbing over the back of his neck. “I have since the moment we met, there hasn’t been anyone else and there won’t be anyone else, not if you love me too.”

He stares at you, and he waits, but there’s silence. You don’t seem to know what to say, and he gets that. He’s just thrown everything out on the table, he wouldn’t know what to do with it either.

“It’s ok.” He says quietly. “It’s ok if you don’t love me too.”

He purses his lips together and he feels that fucking ache in the centre of his chest because his heart is breaking. He feels too much, he always has. He’s always been this way.

“I’m gonna…” he jerks his head at the door before squeezing past you. His hand grips the doorhandle to let himself out when he feels a tug on his kutte.

He turns to you surprised and for a moment your eyes meet, and he sees everything. He sees the fear, the adoration, the vulnerability, the want. He sees it all and he knows that deep down you feel the same way too. He knows that the world has hurt you, scarred you, made you impenetrable and you’re still learning that it’s ok to love somebody, to allow yourself to be loved. Your hands are in his hair, mouth brushing over his, the kiss is sweet and soft and he doesn’t expect it, he doesn’t expect anything from you and isn’t that just thing that breaks you.

“I love you.” You whisper against his lips. “Christ I’ve wanted to say it, I just couldn’t make the words come out. I’ve wanted to say it so many times…”

His forehead comes to rest upon yours, his thumb ghosting over the blush of your cheek. There’s intimacy in the gesture, a wealth of understanding that doesn’t need words. It’s hard for you, he gets it, he always has.

“Love me or leave me, but please don’t ever fuck around on me.” You request.

There’s a sense of pleading in your voice and it hurts him to hear it, because he knows that it’s happened before. That the fallout from it has made you closed off, because something like that it erodes at your self-worth, it makes you react the way you did tonight.

“I will always love you; I won’t leave you and I'll never fuck around on you.” he promises you as he looks into those eyes of yours. He wants you to see that he means it, that he believes in the two of you. “I'm yours Songbird for as long as you'll have me, in this life and the next.”

Love Riz? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bullet-prooflove]

Hey girl 😊 got another riz request for you I have been feeling very spicy if that’s ok with you only if your comfortable with it 😅

“I swear if we get caught then I’m actually going to kill you”

It's been two weeks since Riz last had his hands on you, he's been off on a run up to Vegas and you'd been gigging a little further up North.

When you bring your car to the Scrapyard in order for him to take a look under the hood, you're wearing that black silk dress he loves you in.

It goes zero to sixty after that because there's something about you in black silk that always gets him going.

He fucks you on the desk in the office, his overalls down by his thighs and the heel of your boots digging into the flesh just under his ass. It heightens the sensation, the intermingling of pleasure and pain. There's a rawness in the act and he laughs against your mouth because he's never done anything like this, not here.

"You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?" He whispers between kisses. "If we get caught..."

He trails off, his words transitioning into a low moan as you shift position, taking him even deeper.

"Better hurry up then." You smile against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging just the way he likes. "We don't have all day."

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello hope you are having a great day so far 😊 here goes my first ever prompt request I found this one on a list I found hope you like it.

10. “Keep in mind that this isn’t something I do for just anyone. There’re a lot of things I’ve done that I’ve only done for you.” (With Riz if it’s possible love ya )

Riz has never been in love before you, all of his relationships have been transactional or casual. He doesn't stay over because he knows that gives the wrong idea about his intentions. He's upfront and honest, it's a one night thing, maybe a couple of nights if it leans into fuck buddy territory but never more than that.

It all changes when he meets you.

"You're the first person I've done this with." He tells you the next morning, his fingertips toying with the silver necklace on your throat. The two of you are tangled together, wrapped up in your sheets, the sun is streaming through the open window ghosting across his skin. "I don't stay over."

"I don't usually let strange men into my home" You tease as his fingertips trail up the length of the chain until he reaches the curve your jaw. His thumb traces over the blush of your cheek as he looks you in the eyes.

"I'm serious." He tells you, his lips brushing over yours. "I don't do this with anyone."

"Well...," You say, your fingers threading though his hair. "I'm glad you chose to do it with me."