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#Angel Reyes
imagineredwood · 1 month
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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 🧍🏻‍♀️
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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General taglist
@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady
Mayans MC taglist
@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​
@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002
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kindnessisweakness2 · 9 months
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Masterlist!!
Delusional (Jax Teller X OC!)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28
*** (Jax Teller X OC!) - Havent worked out a name for this yet!!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
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Perfect Chaos (Angel Reyes X OC!) 
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10
You Were A Bet (Angel Reyes X OC)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 
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drabbles-mc · 4 months
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📸 credit: Michael Irby's Instagram
I just love and miss them sm 🥺
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artsninspo · 18 days
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"Best-friends"
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plot: Best friends shouldn't have steamy dreams of each other. they shouldn't be the subject of each other's daydreams. they shouldn't be jealous when you flirt with other ... or should they? Angel's your best friend, but lately you've been pulling away in order to understand your growing feeling for your oldest friend. Feeling the distance angel stops by making all your feelings a little more real.
pairing: angel reyes x Reader
warnings: sweet 🥰 & steamy 🌶️
word count: 2.1K
authors note: hi, so I promised a draft purge months ago this is a little mayans imagine i've had for awhile for Angel, are we team Angel or EZ? Or both? Also, follow @afewfantasies for more like this.
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You guess the saying is true, men and women can’t be friends without one of them catching feelings. Unfortunately, this time it’s you who’s been bitten by the bug. You and Angel have been friends for so long it feels like he’s always been a part of your life. So much so that your family knows and welcomes him. You weren't always as close as you are now but in the past six months you’ve found yourself thinking about him more than usual. Stealing looks while he laughs, getting a little jealous when he flirts with the girls around the club and missing him more than you should when he goes on runs. Instead of leaning into it you've been trying to pull away and get a grip on ballooning emotions. In true Angel fashion he’s shown up anyways to complete a project you asked him to do since last month. You hand him a glass of fresh lemonade and he takes it wiping the sweat from his brow.
“I'm starting to think this friendship is unequal,” he huffs, taking another sip. You smile looking at the fruits of his manual labour. He’s built you two bookcases in the past hour. Aside from your need for a place to house your hobby, there's a benefit to having Angel performing the task in his wife-pleaser, slightly sweaty, muscles bulging as he lifts the heady wood, searching through piles of brackets, bolts and screws assembling them. His arms, his hands, his attention. Swallowing you look away from him trying to get a grip…
“You do the physical labour and I do the intellectual” you smile tapping the wood.
“Hmm, that’s how this works?” he asks looking up as he slides another shelf into place.
“Yup” you smile “Looks good”
“Where do You want them?” He asks standing. He’s substantially taller than you.
“Over there” you point. He moves them into place without struggle, looking down you find they're on wheels.
“You change your mind too much. I’m not gonna put my back out” he huffs in his angel way and you flip him off playfully.
“While my indecision marinates, my mom wants to know if you want to stay for dinner?” you ask.
“I thought we were going out to eat later?” he asks, raising a brow.
“You know how they are about home cooked meals versus spending money and eating out” you roll your eyes and he smiles.
“Why don’t we eat here then and hangout after?” He offers.
“Ok” you smile and repeats it mockingly in your exact tone. He’s missed you. You hadn't been around lately and it was grating on his nerves. He’d stay up late sometimes staring at the ceiling wondering if there was someone else you were spending your time with. He’d even woken up in cold sweats from nightmares of seeing you out with someone else.
You end up at Angels where you spend almost as much time as you do at your own home. It’s in desperate need of decoration and a feminine touch. He wouldn’t even have cookware and dishware if it weren't for you.
“Come on, the sick shit is about to start” he calls like a big kid from the couch. You smile relishing in the moments where he’s unguarded and animated. Where the smile overtakes the intimidating appearance of a large man with a muscular build and tattoos a part of a motorcycle club.
“Almost done” you shout, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Y/N!” He shouts impatiently and you wash your hands quickly heading to see the action beginning. You sit beside him and he kisses the top of your head wrapping an arm around you. It’s a level of intimacy you don’t share with anyone else. You hold him back and he puts your legs over his. Your mom has said a thousand times that you’re too close to not be together. She thinks it’s a recipe for disaster and right about now you believe her. You don't know when you fell asleep but you wake up to Angel carrying you.
“It’s alright, I got you” he whispers, carrying you into his bed. You doze off again and feel him put a shirt over your tank before peeling off your leggings. You stir again when he comes back smelling like he just had a smoke. He heads to the bathroom. He gets into the bed gingerly considerate of your sleep. Sleepily you scoot over to his warm body and his arms find themselves around yours. You fall asleep in no time.
———-
It’s been awhile since you've  been woken up to morning wood. Angel's dream must be a good one. You smile sliding away from the active appendage and head into the bathroom. Evidence of your proximity is all over. You have a section in his bathroom. When you lift the face wash you smile because it’s lighter than usual. He’s been using it too. You find the dishwasher emptied  and start on breakfast. Angel comes in half an hour later looking like a daydream, with bedroom hair and sleepy eyes.
“Smells good” He mutters.
“I tried” you admit putting a plate in front of him. 
“What are you up to today?” He asks.
“Putting my books away”
“Those things are filthy” He jokes, eating the bacon with his hands like a caveman.
“Whatever” you roll your eyes and he smiles all the way to his eyes very amused.
“Aww she’s blushing” he teases.
“Shut up” you laugh sitting with your own plate.
“What’s up, you’ve been a little distant. Work or mama stressing you out?” He asks attentively. There’s no hiding from him.
“Maybe both”
“You don’t need the job. I told you you can manage the bar” he offers in a bid to keep you close.
“I didn’t go to school to manage the bar.”
“So what, you're gonna be like this for longer?” He asks.
“Explain how I’m being?” you ask suspiciously.
“Not in the moment.” He says “In your head and not letting me in” he says.
“We’ll I'm working through some things”
“What?” he panics internally.
“Personal things” you shrug casually looking into your plate.
“Come on!” He laughs. “We’re practically one person” he snaps, tossing his fork into the plate and sitting back.
“I’m getting my period, who knows it may just pass” you lie.
He deadpans, “You don’t think I know you get your period at the beginning or end of the month. You just lied” he says and you laugh shocked at his attentiveness.
“Angel!” you laugh shocked but he’s not amused.
“You’re seeing someone aren’t you? One of those sissy pretty boys you know I won’t approve of” he says making you smile.
“No, I’m not” you affirm and he relaxes a touch.
“Not a pretty boy?” He raises a brow.
“I'm not seeing anyone” you tell him honestly but it doesn't settle him.
“Y/N, you can tell me so I can look into him. You’ve only been here once this week” he says and you sit on his lap. It's what made Angel different from the rest of the guys you'd been friendly with. He wasn’t trying to control you, he'd be right by your side when the shit got sticky. He’d let you live and he’d clean up all the mess without judgement.
“I’m not seeing anyone, there’s no one you need to kill. I’ve just been trying to get my shit together” you explain and he holds you close.
“You can get your shit together here. There’s enough space for the both of us.”
“What happens when you decide to go steady with one of the barfly’s?” you ask leaning into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck.
“Not gonna happen” He laughs holding you close.
“Remind me to take you back to the gym. Gotta get you better at boxing in case one of these creeps you don't want to tell me about gets out of hand.” he says. He runs his thumb over your knuckles. You feel compelled to tell him the full truth. You get up and pour yourself some water.
“You’re doing it again, wait did one of the guys say or do something?” He stands.
“No, the guys are well, they're great in their own special way…” you shrug, turning your back to him.
“Y/N, you’re killing me here” Angel snaps.
“Angel, don’t feel weird about this okay?”
“No promises” he huffs, leaning forward attentively.
“I’ve been having, I don’t know…” you trail, having never been here before.
“Y/N spit it out” Angel says worriedly.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what us together would be like” You admit. He stills for a while before he finally blinks and his posture relaxes. When he finally takes a breath he places a hand on his heart. His eyes close and he shakes his head in amusement.
“Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again” he warns with a smile. It throws you for a loop. 
“I’m here thinking you’re hurt or sick or in danger” Angel snaps.
“I’m not sure I’m not” you joke and he smiles coming over.
“Way better than those books” he says standing in front of you closing the space between the both of you and running his hands down your shoulders to hold both of your hands.
“Huh?” you ask looking up at him.
“Us together, it would be way better than those books” he smiles. Your cheeks burn before you smile back. “It’s about time hermosa” he smiles leaning down and placing a kiss on your lips. It’s the first and hopefully the first of many.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.
“It means I’ve been waiting for you to come around for awhile now” he says candidly.
“Since when?” you laugh shocked.
“Since the pool party” he says and that was nearly a year ago.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask.
“Showing you was better” he says and you think of all the ways our connection has evolved this year. You stand against the counter and he closes the space between you again. He kisses you harder this time. You make out like teenagers and it sends my heart racing. You’re breathless when it ends and you rest your head on his chest. He rubs circles onto your back.
“I just knew you were a good kisser,” he mumbles.
“I need to sort my room out, we can pick this back up later” you tell him wanting more but needing some time to process your excitement and all the new info.
“Why? You don’t need those books anymore” he says, appealing to every one of your senses.
“They aren’t all about sex Angel, just the few you happened to pick up” you reason and he shakes his head knowing it's another half truth.
“You into that shit? The guy getting a little rough and being dominant?” He asks playfully, grabbing you by the neck. He’s never been rough before and your smile answers the question. 
His eyes close in appreciation and excitement. “Shit” he smiles, coming in for another kiss. This one is soft in spite of your acceptance or his rougher side. It’s perfect though.
“You can tell me what you’re into when I’m done” you smile pushing him away determined not to walk into your home freshly fucked after a night out. After all the waiting you and Angel need more than a few hours, all day and all night.
“I’m a simple man,” he says in surrender. “Pretty sure I’ll like anything you do to me” he says, making you laugh.
“Walk me out” you tell him like you would any other time. He gets the door of your car for you as usual but when he hugs you he takes a handful of ass.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he says, validating your feelings.
“Make it a habit” you whisper, kissing his cheek. Angel steps back, closing the door with a full heart and a stiffy.
“Plan to” he smiles knowing there's absolutely no way he's gonna be able to keep his hands off of you. Not even after he's touched every inch of your skin and given you every inch of him. Not after you become a Reyes or after you have a little one making your stomach swell. Not after your home is filled with children and he has to sneak into the bathroom for some alone time in the shower. Not when his hair is more salt than pepper, not when his hands are too weathered to ride his bike anymore. 
Not ever.
*
thanks for reading 🖤 like and reblog for support.
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darqchilddaydreamz · 4 months
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The Photograph
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- an Angel Reyes fic -
18+ ONLY BLOG *🚩MINORS GO AWAY!🚩
Angel Reyes x OC one shot
1.8k+ words
I just wanna make him happy. He deserves it. Enjoy!
Mayans MC belongs to Sutter, this fic and Bella belong to me but I belong to the brown-eyes of a certain Mr. Angel Reyes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Damn it!”
Angel grumbled under his breath while moving his dresser to find the ring that fell behind it. Peeking behind it, the visible layer of thick dust there mocked his housekeeping efforts. Yanking on it again, he saw his ring but also spied the edge of a small, thin paperback book. Reaching for it with his fingertips, he drug it close enough to be able to pick it up, knowing what it was as soon as he got it in his hands. It was coated in dust so he blew on it rubbing it on his shirt, and fanning away the burst of dust particles he put in the air. Pulling out the white rectangle sticking out of it, he turned it over.  
Standing still, he stared at the old image of himself in the photograph he had slipped between the book’s pages way back when - when it bothered him too much to look at it. It called him back to a different time, to years ago when his prospecting had just ended and the MC was doing so much work between Mexico and Oakland, that he had easily spent at least four days a week on the road. Oakland. Angel suffered through the business portions of every trip impatiently, knowing that once they arrived at whatever musty motel they were going to stay at, he could wash away the road grit and dive into the nightlife of the city. Angel loved where he was from but Oakland was a big fat melting pot of women, different languages and foods. Everything was different there, brighter and louder than his hometown of Santo Padre, he loved it...
And then he met her.
Angel heard her name when her group was introduced, but to him it wasn’t fitting - it didn’t carry any of the enchantment that he saw in her. He had watched her dancing, smiling, laughing and she was fluid and smooth like moving light. Beautiful. He put her given name aside and christened her anew. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and tried to hide her smile when he first called her Bella, drew him to her side. Her reaction made him forget all propriety and boldly he reached out to run his thumb down her jaw. Her lips parted in surprise and her eyes on him, wide and unblinking drew him in more.
“Let’s go outside a minute,” he said leaning down near her ear, unintentionally brushing his knuckles against her hand. His lips tipped up when she let her one of her fingers link with his.
After that, Angel’s nights in Oakland were spent in her small but modern and airy photography studio instead of stuffy, low rent motels with snoring roommates. He slept sprawled out on her low rise bed or curled up around her form and woke up smiling. They had been young, wild and absolutely unashamed of their attraction to each other. Every week that he returned to town they came together with the force of a collision and didn’t come up for air until one of them had to. They were uninhibited, hedonistic in her space but it was more than that. They were more than that. The exploration of bodies eventually lead to long talks, trust, connection. Angel wasn’t looking for what they made together but in finding it he tried to make it work until the club’s new demands outweighed his ability to get back to her. As the MC’s focus changed, Oakland saw less and less of him, until they both decided to call it. The regret in their final goodbye kiss left him bitter toward the entire city for years.
0.o.0.o.0
Bella.
Angel sat on the end of his bed fingering the edges of the photo. It was too late to shove it back into the old book or just slip it in a drawer - he was already inside of it…remembering. He could practically hear the rain that had battered her windows all that day. The darkened clouds and thunder had kept the MC from leaving Oakland that morning as scheduled. Marcus wanted everyone to stay put because riding on chrome in the wide, flat desert areas they had to travel to get home, was a death wish. Angel remembered that he had smiled wide at her over his shoulder hearing the ‘order’. Stripping off his cut, he jumped back into bed with her, joyous at discovering they had more time together.
They spent the day in bed letting the rain mold their mood into something lazy and playful. She lay in his arms showing him how to use one of her many handheld cameras, then sat at the foot of the bed posing for him. Just as he was about to take another photo of her. she jumped up.
“Angel, stay like that,” she had said with an excited look in her eyes, picking up an ancient camera from a display shelf. “Don’t move.”
To his embarrassment she began shooting him. Moving his position a little, then clicking away. Once she was finished, she disappeared into her small processing room. She had shooed him away from the tiny space many times before, so when she finally poked her head out to call him in, he was puzzled. Strolling inside the darkened room, Angel was confronted with the pungent smell of chemicals and her true talent. Standing behind her with his arm wrapped around her waist, he stared at the hanging prints of the images they had captured that day in astonishment.
“Look at this one,” she said handing it to him. Taking it from her, Angel was taken aback. While he recognized himself in it, having the bottom of his face partially covered by the camera and some of the upper portion cut from the frame entirely, made him look like a mystery yet to be revealed. She had given it a deep sepia finish that he couldn’t fully appreciate under the tinted lights but he knew the look was truer to their mood that day than color would have been. He was draped with a blanket and swathed in the shadows from the overcast gloom of the day. She chose not to lighten the picture, leaving the shadows on him deep and the background obscure. The effect emphasized muscle tone he didn’t even know he had. He couldn’t stop staring at this version of himself.  
She watched his eyebrows knit together, curious and also pleased - he had never seen himself like this. Every choice she had made gave it a warm, soulful darkness.  
“I look--,” Angel started to speak but faltered, embarrassed. He shook his head, smiling slightly, handing it back carefully by its edge. “That’s crazy.”
She understood his reaction, her clients had it all the time - especially men. Seeing themselves, their own beauty, captured and showcased this way always caught them off guard. “No,” she said quietly, hanging it back up. “it’s the way I see you.”  
Moved by a feeling he didn’t understand, Angel held her face and kissed her like he never wanted to stop. Feeling thoroughly seen and surrounded by photos of their playtime, he expressed himself the only way he knew how. With booming rolls of thunder and crackles of lightning in lieu of music, he lifted her up and took her again against the cabinet door in the room where her creativity manifested hidden beauty.
0.o.0.o.0
Staring at his phone, Angel hovered his thumb over the screen. Letting his mind wander until her phone number started to come back to him in pieces. First came the area code, that was easy. Then the first three numbers that made a triangle on the keypad. And finally the correct order of the last four numbers, that shaped a square. After all this time I still do it…he thought. A triangle on top of a square, the way a child would draw a house - it was that way he had always remembered her phone number back then. Angel stroked down his mustache and beard with his hand smoothing over the beginnings of a smile thinking how EZ would have a field day with that bit of insight. Her number was a home.
Knowing it was Sunday and the likelihood of anyone answering was slim, Angel pressed send anyway. He stood up needing to pace a bit as it rang. By the fourth ring, he almost pressed the end button but something in him had to see if he had actually gotten the number correct.
“Thank you calling Precision Studios. How I can help you?”
The surprise of it being a person instead of a voicemail greeting, gave him a jolt. The silk of her voice was so familiar, he practically curled into the phone. His mouth opened but he couldn't think of a greeting that would cover the amount of time that had passed.
She spoke away from the mouthpiece to the chaos in her background, "Quiet, please.”
"Sorry, ma."
Ma? She has a kid. Should he be counting the years since they had last been together? Angel's brain flashed an image of her swollen with pregnancy. She must have been beautiful, he thought.
"Bella?" His name for her, the name he had owned her with, left his lips without regard for if she had a husband to go with that child. He heard shuffling and the background of voices got louder.
"Boys! Shut it!"
There's more than one. Angel smiled at her sass despite the fact that his chest did a little clutch at the thought of her having an entire family while the single life had his feet trapped in cement for all these years.
"I'm so sorry. How can I help you?"
"Bella.” The silence on her end forced him to say something more. “Yeah, uh...it's An--."
He barely got his name out when her drawn out gasp filled his ear. "Hoooooly shit." Her laugh was exactly as he remembered. "Angel?!"
Her quick recognition was a surprise to him, stripping away the many years that had put creases on his brow and streaks of silver in his beard. The excitement in her voice came across the line warming him to his toes and his smile grew, widening into a grin. “Yeah…ah, it’s me.”  
“Hold on,” her words rushed out, nervous. “Can you? Just hold on a sec?”
“Yeah…no problem.” Now that she had said a few more words, he couldn’t believe that she sounded the same and he wondered if he did to her. Waiting, he sat back down on the side of the bed, wiping his suddenly sweaty, hands on his jeans. On the other end, all sound in the background cut off as she squirreled herself away someplace private.
"Angel Ignacio Reyes….my god.” He could feel the affection in her tone doing things to him, he couldn’t understand. “I…wow. How are you doing? I mean…how are you supposed to answer that, right?” Her breath left her chest in a chuckle that felt like a hug. “But yeah…how are you?"
I should have made this call a long time ago. Angel closed his eyes for moment letting the feeling of reconnection wash over him. With a lazy smile, he listened to her while leaning back on his bed to lay down, tucking his arm under his head. Bella. All thoughts of the ring he had dropped behind the dresser were forgotten for the woman responsible for the photograph laying next to him on the bed.
- fin -
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humble tags: @drabbles-mc @est1887 @ravennaortiz @librarian1002 @spaghettificationandpretzels @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna @berberriescorner @oureternalbound @burningtacozombie @buddinglinguist @keyweegirlie @saracatherine @lovedlover @danzer8705 @brie-mode-activated @wnbweasley @blkbutterfly816
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bullet-prooflove · 6 months
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Problem Child: Angel Reyes x Reader
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Sequel to Valeria
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Ten minutes…
Ten minutes is what you allow yourself to grieve, to cry, to feel all of the emotions that are coursing through your system in the aftermath of the revelation that Angel has a daughter.
It’s agony, this feeling in your chest. You’ve felt it before after your Nana died and you feel it again as you sit in your car outside of Angel’s house. Your chest’s tight, and you think about that baby, left all alone on the porch, the same way you were all those years ago.
Anything could have happened. Someone else could have taken her, the two of you may have decided to go out instead, Angel may have come over to yours. Lord knows how long she could have been out there. These are the thoughts that ramble through your head as you sit there with both hands on the steering wheel staring straight ahead.
There is no doubt that the baby is Angel’s. You’ve seen pictures of him as a child and Valeria is the spitting image of him. You wonder where this leaves the two of you, if Skylar genuinely couldn’t cope or if she did this to teach him a lesson.
She’s your problem now… The letter had read.
Barely a couple of weeks old and already labelled a problem.
You think your mother must have said something similar to your Nana when she’d dropped you off.
You wipe the tears away from your cheeks with the back of your hand, before tilting the rearview mirror to face you. You stare back at your reflection and take a deep breath.
You know what you have to do, someone needs to take control because you know right now that Angel isn’t in a condition to do it. You can’t imagine what this must feel like for him, you know he’s not going to cope, not on his own. He needs some stability, someone who can remain firm, who can guide him when he falters.
You pick up your phone and thumb through the contacts until you find the name that you’re searching for.
“Felipe. It’s me.” You say when he picks up the phone. “Angel needs you.”
***
You’re not coming back. Angel knows that and it devastates him. It feels like his whole life is crashing down around his head, like he can’t catch a second to breath. He cradles the baby to his chest, his lips brushing over her soft skin. He has to push all of that aside, he has to think about Valeria because she has to be his priority right now.
His gaze comes to rest on his father. Felipe is seated at the kitchen table, the letter from Skylar clasped in his hands as he studies it.
“Lila’s not coming back.” Angel says quietly.
“Give her time.” Felipe says as he sets the letter down. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Angel shakes his head because he knows this is too much. He can’t ask you to take on a baby. The two of you have never talked about kids. He didn’t know if you wanted them or not. He figured there would be plenty of time to figure that out later.
He’s surprised when he hears the key in the lock. You mutter a curse as your hip bumps against the door handle, crossing over the threshold with a bassinet tucked under your arm and several bags filled with God knows what.
“Give Valeria here.” Felipe says, raising to his feet and reaching out for the baby. “Go help her.”
He’s already in motion, his heart thudding against his rib cage as he catches one of the bags just as it slips from your grasp. He takes note of the diapers and formula, before he takes the bassinet from you.
“I managed to get this stuff from Carmen, she keeps a bunch of it aside for new parents who are struggling to make ends meet.” You explain as you haul the other bags with you into the kitchen. “Bishop was there, he had a lot of questions, but I told him you’d call him tomorrow. He seemed to be ok with that.”
Angel doesn’t even know where to begin. The words catch in his throat and there’s an ache in his chest as he looks at you because even now, you’re still taking care of him, not just him but Valeria too.
“I think we have everything we need for tonight.” You say as you set the bags down on the table. “I can get the rest of the stuff on my list when the stores open up in the morning.”
“I thought…”
“I needed a minute.” You tell him quietly. “You know what happened to me, Valeria being dropped off like that…” You don’t have to say anything else. Angel gets it and so does Felipe. “I want to be there for her and for you. I want to be part of this little family.”
“Are you sure?” he asks you quietly, his thumb tracing over the blush of your cheek.
You nod your head before your arms wrap around his waist and you draw him close. It feels good to have you back in his arms, he finds the gesture reassuring. You’ve always been a port in a storm for him and the fact you’re here right now soothes him more than he would ever admit to anybody else.
“Yea.” You tell Angel, your fingertips toying with the buttons on his shirt. “I want this, I want this with you.”
“Ok Mi Reina.” Angel murmurs as a smile ghosts across his lips. “Let’s do it. Let’s be a family.”
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hennyjwrites · 1 year
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HennyJ’s Baes: “You can’t handle this.”
Angel:
Angel was a pussy eating god. He had never met a pussy he couldn't eat for hours without drowning. Until he met you. Your hands were pulling at his hair as he raised panting. His beard was covered in your wetness, making it shine in certain spots. He looked from your smirk back to your pussy as he panted. His beard was covered in your wetness. “Fuck.” he whispered loud enough for you to hear. You giggled at his reaction to the ocean you had between your legs. “Told you, you couldn't handle it.” You laughed. Angel brought his finger downs to rub at your clit, making you wetter. Angel groaned as he got back down on his stomach to be face to face with your pussy letting you get your laughs in before he licked up your slit again and closed his mouth around your clit. He sucked harshly making you cry and grab onto his hair. He was trying to prove a point to you as he slid two of his fingers into you. He was trying to prove that he could handle it. You came with a loud moan as the gush of wetness flowed into his mouth. Angel brought his head up panting, with his beard soaked. He looked at your shaking form and smiled. “Since I can't handle this pussy, maybe I need to practice more.” With that, he dove back in still destined to prove you even more wrong.
Rio:
“What happened to all that mouth ma?” Rio asked. His voice was deep and slow as he thrust his fingers deep inside you. He was laid next to you with your legs spread over his. You couldn't speak as he hit that special spot inside you making your legs shake. You were so close and he could tell by the way you clenched around his long fingers. “Talk to me mama, lemme know who can handle this pussy?” He whispered in your ear. He was making you regret your words before you ended like this. Telling him that he couldn't handle your pussy was like challenging his manhood and he was working hard to prove his point. Your pussy fluttered around his fingers as you came around him, throwing your head back and arching your back upwards. “You can handle it, baby.” You moaned out quietly as your orgasm felt never-ending because he kept the steady pace going inside you. “I can handle it?” he clarified, slamming his finger directly into your spot. His voice was still the same as he looked down at the cream coating his fingers. “Yessss.” You drew out, legs shaking as he was bringing you to the edge again. You came again, legs shaking in overstimulation as you closed your legs. “Rio I can't.” You told him looking at his face. He smirked at you. “Nah I need to make sure I can handle this, open your legs darling”
Miguel:
Miguel knew from the moment he met you, you were gonna be trouble. He just didn’t know your pussy would cause him so much distress. “Cmere, my love I just want to talk to her.” Miguel begged, pulling you closer to the bed and of course you let him. He didn’t waste any time as he pulled your panties off, watching the wetness from your pussy leave a trail. “Oh you missed papi didn’t you?” He spoke directly to your pussy before attacking her with his mouth. Your back arched as you slightly giggled from the shock of his mouth. He sucked and licked like his life depended on it. He pulled away, smirking already. “She tried to keep you away, but she knows she can’t resist me either.” He spoke to her again. “Miguel, it's only been 12 hours.” You whined at the contact of his tongue swiveling your clit. He pulled away looking at you. “Longest 12 hours of my life.”
Erik:
“Fuck!” Erik hissed, pulling out of you again. He watched his nut mix in with your wetness and leak out of you. You smiled to yourself. You made him nut under 5 minutes. “Erik it’s ok baby.” You consoled him. “You just can’t handle all this.” You smirked in a condescending voice, already knowing how this was gonna end. Eriks eyes snapped to yours. You had him fucked up. He wasn’t finna go out as a minute man. “Shut the fuck up.” He spoke, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Erik was already hard as he guided himself back into your pussy. You were already making it hard for him. Pussy was so fucking wet and it gripped him like some tongs. Erik didn’t waste any time and thrusted into you hard, making you lose your breath. “Think I can’t handle all this thick shit. Girl Imma show you.” He whispered as he put one leg up in the beg, and grabbed the back of your hair, wrapping it around his hand. One leg up, one hand on the frontal and boom! A few more thrust, hard and good thrust, had you nutting all over his dick. You tried to pull away but Erik pulled you back. “Nah, bring that ass back.”
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bumblesimagines · 6 months
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“who the fuck said that? you’re great.”
“i’d tap that.”
“your ass is your best quality.”
Angel Reyes
“who the fuck said that? you’re great.”
“i’d tap that.”
“your ass is your best quality.”
pronouns: they/them, gender neutral
reminder that i do have a ko-fi if anyone has ever wanted to tip me!
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"Angel, what do you think of me?" It wasn't everyday you asked Angel Reyes for his opinion, but one disastrous date had left you feeling down and desperate for at least some comfort. Angel blinked at you, lips pressed to the rim of his bottle and brows slowly knitting in question. "Do you think I'm boring? Hopeless and destined for nothing?"
“Who the fuck said that? You’re great.” Angel scoffed and took one last swing of his beer, emptying the bottle completely and shoving it in the direction of the nearest prospect.
"I had a date last night and they said I was boring." You revealed in a mutter, a soft sigh slipping past your lips. Your first date in years and it ended with tears, wine, and ice cream. Angel winced.
"Fuck 'em. They don't know what their missing out on."
"What are they missing out on, Angel? I serve beers to criminals for a living and only have a one bedroom apartment to my name." You groaned and slumped down on the bar, face burying into your forearms. Angel exchanged a glance with the amused yet silent Ez beside him.
"Well, for starters, your ass is your best quality." Ez elbowed his side. "And, you have a great sense of humor. Besides, not everyone can serve beer to a motorcycle club and not piss themselves."
You laughed into your arms and lifted your head with a small smile. "My ass is my best quality."
"Exactly. I'd tap that."
"I'd be flattered but you'd fuck anything that breathes and has a hole, Angel."
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withmyteeth · 11 months
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For the flash fic! The prompt "They end the phone call with an accidental ''love you'', leaving you flustered." With Angel, please!
So, this one got a little wordy on my because I was typing, typing, typing away and completely forgot this was supposed to be a FLASH fic challenge and not my next slow burn. Enjoy!
REMINDER: This is a writing exercise to get words down on paper as fast as possible. This has not been reread or edited.
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Nine times out of ten, when your phone rang, you didn’t even have to look at the screen to know who was calling.  Angel Reyes had a habit of blowing up your phone at the first moment of down time he had.  It’s usually never anything important.  He calls just to chat, ask about your day, tell you about his.  Sometimes he’s at the grocery store and can’t remember which milk he likes, or he can’t remember the name of that restaurant you told him to try the next time he was in Mexicali, or he’s just bored, on a run with the club.  You cringe to think of what your phone bill would look like if calls were still charged by the minute.
“You know, one of these days I am going to get a full face helmet, so when we are on these long rides, I can call you.”
You chuckle.  “Let’s hope that day never comes.”  You mean it light-heartedly, he knows that.  The truth is, you enjoy the calls as much as he does.  You’ve been living alone since your roommate left almost a year ago and the silence has been creeping up on you ever since.  Some days, you guys barely even talk, just keeping the phones on speaker with each other while you putt around, getting things done.
“Yea, yea, yea,” he says.  “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I stopped calling you all the time.”
“You mean what would it be like to live my life with both hands again?”
Angel scoffs.  “I got you those earbud things for a reason, you know.”
It’s true.  After an unfortunate incident with a stack of plates, Angel had shown up to your house the next day with a plastic bag and an eye roll about you being a klutz.  “I know, but I don’t like how they feel in my ears.”
That is partially the truth.  The rest of the truth is that you don’t like how they distort Angel’s voice.  Sure, he talks enough but you can decipher more of what he doesn’t say by the tone of his voice, the way he says a word, when he chooses to pause.  Learning how to understand Angel Reyes was like learning a whole new language.
“Well, then get those big ones that look like earmuffs or something.”
You shrug, even though he can’t see you, your shoulder pressing the phone a little harder into the side of your face.  “Meh, I’m not worried about it.”
You smile at the sound Angel makes on the other end of the line, imagining how he is rolling his eyes.  He hates it when you say that.  You always complain about something, but then when he offers a solution, you just brush it off, much to his frustration.
“Whatever, just don’t come crying to me the next time you break something.”
“I didn’t come crying to you,” you clarify, “I was already on the phone with you when it happened.”
The line falls into a comfortable silence as you continue to wipe down the counter in your kitchen.  Angel is probably lounged back on his bike, waiting on everyone to get done with their various activities during their pit stop.
“So, how long –,” you start to ask, but then you hear some yelling in the background.
“Hey!” Angel shouts.  
You pull the phone away from your ear from the volume of it, knowing it wasn’t intended for you.  “Angel, what’s going on?”
“Apparently someone is trying to have a dick swinging contest in the middle of the gas station.”
You can hear the wind whooshing through the speaker, meaning Angel is probably headed right towards whatever is happening, which is confirmed when you hear him ask.  “What’s the problem here?”  He must have pressed the phone against his shoulder because you can only make out muffled sounds.
Your phone is pressed so hard to your ear that you are surprised you haven’t felt the screen crack.  Suddenly, you hear Angel grunt and expect him to drop the phone, so you pull it away from your ear, only to hear his voice come across the line.  You quickly press is back to your face to hear him say, “--gotta go, querida.  I’ll call you back.  Love you,” and the line goes dead.
You don’t move.  Frozen in your kitchen with your phone still pressed to you face, smoke practically pours out of your ears at the speed in which your brain is replaying those last two words.
Love you.
Love.  You.
Angel Reyes said he loves you.
You can feel the blood rush to your face.  Of course, the reason you spend so much time on the phone with him is because you’re madly in love with him, but you’ve never told him.  Sure, you guys talk all the time, even hang out together in person when he has the time, but he’s never indicated to you that his feelings might be more than friendship based.  You’ve seen him with his tongue down the throats of other women plenty of times.  If he liked you, he wouldn’t do that, right?
No matter how you try to rationalize it, there’s still that part of you, rocking back and forth in a tin foil hat saying that maybe he did mean it.  Maybe it was a slip of the tongue in the best way.  The only way to find out is to wait for him to call back and ask him.
Except he doesn’t call back.
You give it a couple hours, understanding that they might have needed a quick getaway and they’d probably keep going until their next stop then anyways.  And with everything else going on, if it was a slip of the tongue, Angel probably doesn’t even know what he said or the effect it had on you.  So you call him, just leaving a simple voicemail asking if everything is alright, asking him to call you when he has a chance.  You don’t mention the word ‘love’.
It takes three days.  Three days of staring at your phone, as silent as it's ever been, the battery lasting a full day for the first time in almost a year.  You’re losing your mind to the silence, not even the echo of his confession able to drown it out.  You wrestle over calling him again, but if shit’s gone down with the club, you don’t want to risk calling them and making things worse.  So you wait.
Finally, a knock sounds on your door, breaking the silence, and you practically sprint to answer it.  You don’t bother checking the window, willing to welcome anyone who might fill the silence.  What you aren’t expecting is to see EZ on your door, Angel’s kutte fisted in his hand to keep him on the porch.  Angel refuses to meet your eyes, looking anywhere but at you, so you look back at EZ, the question clear on your face.
“I cannot take another day of this.  Talk to him,” EZ says, pushing Angel into your house before pulling the door closed.
You blink at the door then at Angel, who looks like he is ready to bolt.  “Uh, what’s he talking about?”
You can see the twitchiness in Angel’s limbs, although he tries to hide it, running a hand through his hair.  “Uh, you know EZ,” he says with a nervous chuckle.  “Probably those anabolic steroids going to his head or something.”
You squint your eyes at him, making note of the things he didn’t say, listening to how he said the words he did.  “What’s wrong?”
His head pops up.  “Wrong?  Who said anything was wrong?”
You cross your arms.  “Angel, out with it.”
For just one moment, he looks like he’s going to resist, say something else, but he glances at the door, which probably has EZ still standing on the other side as you hadn’t heard his bike start and pull away.  His shoulders sag and his eyes drop to the floor again.  “I wanted to talk to you.  About the thing I said.”
You swallow.  The thing he said can only be one thing.  That one thing in particular that hasn’t left your head since he said it.  “Yea?”
See, the thing is.  As well as you can read Angel?  Angel can read you.  Even though you’d said just one word, Angel heard the hope in it, his eyes shooting up to meet yours.  “I, uh,” he swallows, a smirk tugging at his lips when he sees the smile growing on yours. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
You bite your lip, trying to stop your feelings from showing on your face, but at this point, it's no use.  “How did you mean to say it?”
Angel takes a step closer to you then, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you into him.  Your breath catches as your heart thuds one time before coming to a stop in your chest as he brings his face to yours.  His forehead meets your first and you brace yourself for a kiss, but it doesn’t come.  “Do you think I’d talk to anyone on the phone that much if I didn’t love them?”
Your heart springs back to life, rabbit away in your chest, your breath leaving you in a whoosh. Three days of worrying over nothing because Angel feels the same way.  You want to say it back.  You do, you mean to, but when you open your mouth, you say, “Well, I know how much you love to hear yourself talk, so I was just giving you that –,” you don’t get to finish the statement, his lips meeting yours because Angel can read between your lines as well as you can read between his and he saw the ‘I love you, too’ loud and clear.
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camiladnne · 10 months
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5.01 - I Hear the Train A-Comin MAYANS M.C. (2018–)
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saturnville · 19 days
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the man in the suit.
pairing: miguel galindo x afro latina fem oc (eliana)
prompt: miguel becomes infatuated with eliana, the owner of a popular coffee shop in town.
an: I was asked to bring back the Miguel Galindo fics by an anon. it's been over two years since I've written anything Mayans, but I'm always willing to revisit old fandoms, so, here we go, I hope you enjoy.
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Her coffee shop was a staple in the town. Known for the rich Colombian coffee beans ground with intentionality, brewed with love, and served in mugs crafted by her own hands. The aura was always calm. Busy, but never so much that guests couldn't enjoy their time. They, just like she often, would get lost in the melodies of indie music that played from the speakers and drunk off caffeine and oat milk. The Tranquil Lounge was a blessing to Santo Padre.
Saturdays were the busiest days in the Lounge. College students stopped by to grind out assignments due the following day at midnight, entrepreneurs chugged coffee like water to finalize funding proposals, and others snuggled by the window with a good book. They were lively and invigorating; her favorite days in the shop.
She danced around her employees, humming a Marc Anthony tune as she topped off a cup with cold foam. Vivir mi vida, la, la, la, la, she hummed to herself.
"I'm very impressed. Most people don't know the lyrics passed the chorus," said an unfamiliar voice. Her teeth gleamed as she smiled softly. Her head still down, she placed a lid on the cup and slid it to the other side of the counter.
"I consider myself determined when it comes to learning song lyrics," she replied. "What can I get you?" Finally, she lifted her head, and she struggled to fight the instinct to gasp. How had he found her little coffee shop in town?
Miguel Galindo was notorious in Santo Padre. A businessman with illegal practices. The government hated him, men envied him, and women wanted him. Everyone in Santo Padre knew who he was and they knew better than to cross him. Their families could end up missing within hours if they upset him. It should have struck fear in her heart, but his presence did the opposite.
Her eyes scanned his attire. Bold of him to wear a white suit to drink coffee. But, it looked beautiful against his olive complexion. It was perfectly tailored to hug his broad shoulders. Her eyes followed its outline.
His brown eyes scanned the beautifully curated menu behind her. Bright colors against the blackboard. Sunflowers, rainbows, and bees decorated the menu. Creative, he noted. "I'll do a hot caramel macchiato. Medium, please." He handed her a twenty-dollar bill. She halted. The drink was $4.
Miguel looked unamused when she parted her lips to object, so she simply took the bill from his hand and thanked him with a smile. "Enjoy, hope to see you back soon."
He nodded. His eyes dropped to her nametag. Eliana, Founder. "Thank you, Eliana. You have a good day, quierda."
She smiled bashfully, "Gracias. You too."
-
Miguel Galindo was enamored by her. He saw the silhouette of her figure when he closed his eyes to rest at night. He heard the southern twang of her accent as he listened to music on the radio, and he saw the richness of her eyes in the mounds of chocolate chips scattered in Christopher's pancakes.
He made frequent appearances at the shop after that. Catching her friendly grin and gentle hands as she passed his cup to him was one of the few highlights of his day. He cherished it, craved it, and adored it.
He felt lucky when he waltzed into the shop one Saturday morning to find it empty. He thought it was a slow day, but she'd closed it for cleaning. And rather than turning him away, she welcomed him in.
"Your usual?" Eliana questioned. She propped her broom against a stable surface and turned to move behind the counter. "On the house."
"Oh no," Miguel waved. "You're not even open, I see." It was Eliana's turn to force an object into his hands. His usual--hot caramel macchiato; medium with a smiley face drawn on the side of the cup.
"You keep me in business, Mr. Galindo," Eliana replied teasingly with a smile. She was so pretty to him. The woman with a mahogany complexion and soft eyes with an unexplainably gentle aura.
Miguel's eyes dropped to the floor as he chuckled bashfully. He had a tendency to pay more than was due, but he credited it as paying in advance for future visits. "I just like to support where I can." Eliana picked up her broom and hummed, instructing him to get comfortable in the cushioned chairs near the window.
His eyes scanned the marvelous artwork that decorated the dark walls. Murals of people parading in fields of palm trees with drums, colorful skirts, and baskets of fruits, vegetables, and grains. They were all of deep complexion. His eyebrow rose.
"Where are you from?" He found himself asking.
"Costa Chica of Guerrero. Mexico." The area where Black Mexicans were the most populated.
"Tu familia?" Your family?
Eliana shrugged a shoulder and bent over to sweep the dirt unto the dustpan. "En México. Conseguí una beca para estudiar aquí. Se graduó con un título en negocios y decidió quedarse. It's a long story." In Mexico. I got a scholarship to study here. I graduated with my business degree and decided to stay.
Miguel mimicked her actions and gestured to the empty seat across from him. "I've got the time if you do."
-
They were polar opposites. She was an extrovert, he was introverted. She loved the fall, yet he found it one of the sadder seasons. Tea was her favorite, though she owned a coffee shop, but coffee was his holy grail. He grew up without his father present, but hers was her rock. So many new discoveries that he basked in like warm comforters on a winter day.
“I enjoyed today,” Miguel said as he walked her to her car. Hours had passed, the sun had set, and their day had come to a close. “I’d like to see you again.”
Eliana hummed as she tapped her key fob. Her vehicle chirped excitedly. She reached for the door handle, but Miguel beat her to it. She thanked him gently and slid into the seat. “Well, you’ll know where to find me, Miguel.”
He chuckled and nodded. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, but. he liked that. Effort was required. He liked a challenge.
“I do,” he replied. “Be ready tomorrow evening. Be safe tonight, Eliana.”
Her brown eyes are twinkled with curiosity. She stretched up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Wear a white suit.” And with that, she started her car and sped off into the night, leaving Miguel to bask in the eagerness of seeing her again.
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imagineredwood · 26 days
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Get Some Sleep
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Summary: Your neighbor Angel is very protective. Very.
Pairing: Angel Reyes x reader
Warnings: Dark/yandere Angel, mentions of a mean ex, breaking and entering technically, blood
A/N:I...I don't know where this came from. It just happened as I conjured up ideas about being chased in the woods 👀
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You blink once.
Twice.
A third time.
Then a fourth.
Your eyes seeing the scene in front of you clearly, yet your brain entirely unable to process what being fed into it. There’s a man sitting across the room in your chair but it’s dark, and you can’t see who it is. It’s just a shadow, shoulders broad, one leg brought up bent to rest crossed against the other knee. You can hear your heart’s every beat in your ears, pounding in your fear. You sit still, unsure what else to do, hoping that it’s just a pile of clothes that looks super scarily like a figure.
But you emptied all of the clothes out of that chair today when you were cleaning.
“Hello?”
Your voice sounds foreign, raspy and stupid.
If this were a horror movie, you’d be laughing at the girl on screen. But you don’t know what else to do. And just when you’re sure that you’re simply hallucinating, a voice answers you back.
“Hi, baby.”
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and despite your brain recognizing the voice, you can’t put a face to it. The term of endearment has a shiver running through you and you reach over to turn on the lamp in a panic. You spin your head back, a whimper dying in your throat as you can see him fully now.
“Angel.”
He smiles tightly, then it’s gone again, eyes dark as they keep staring at you.
Your panic settles, thankful that it isn’t a knife wielding stranger in your home, watching you while you sleep. Eyes settling down to his hand, you catch the glint of metal.
No, it’s just a knife wielding neighbor that’s watching you while you sleep. The question leaves your lips before you can stop it.
“What are you doing?”
You tried to keep your voice even but it’s shaky on the last word. You can see small splatters of red something dried on his knuckles, a few on his cheek. He shrugs, eyes still on you.
“Your ex showed up. Tried to get in.”
You swallow, the mere mention of the cruel man making your heart quicken again. Angel doesn’t allow you time to fret.
“He’s gone. I took care of it.”
He lets his crossed leg slide back down until both booted feet are flat on the floor, his body straightening out a bit.
“He won’t come here again. He won’t ever hurt you again. I promise. You don’t have to worry about him.”
It’s a whirlwind of emotions as you try to convince yourself that maybe he doesn’t mean what you think he means. Feeling relief, yet worry at the same time.
“What did you do, Angel?”
His eyes are soft as they look at you, if not a little unhinged.
“Don’t worry, mi amor. Nothing for you to worry about.”
You swallow and the noise is audible in the silence of the room. He sucks his teeth and then stands, putting the knife back in it’s sheath, stalking towards you. He won’t hurt you. You’re almost certain. But his walk is still reminiscent of whatever happened while you were asleep, and you swallow again as he comes up to the side of the bed, towering over you. His clean hand is gentle as it presses against your chest right below your throat and pushes you to lie back down.
Your head is swimming, foggy from the rush of adrenaline and remnants of sleep, still wondering how your beautifully rugged neighbor has managed to get into your home and what transpired in your home when he caught your ex trying to slither his way inside. You stare up at him from your pillow as his hands come to tug at the cord of your lamp, switching it back off and leaving you in the dark, only the moonlight illuminating his face.
“Get some sleep. You’ll be safe.”
When you wake up again, it’s nearly 8AM and the night’s events come flooding back in, your body sitting up straight, eyes immediately going over to the chair in the corner. You breathe out a huff when you find it empty, and you wonder if maybe it had only been a dream. A weird, hyper-realistic dream. There’s no sign of the biker neighbor who always seems to be there whenever you need help and you’re convinced that maybe, your brain has made the entire thing up. You stand, making your way to the bathroom, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. You go about your morning routine like normal, eyes searching for evidence every now and then, but you don’t find anything to suggest that you were anything over than alone last night. You chuckle, almost embarrassed, thinking of how ridiculous the entire thing is. It isn’t until you’re at the sink getting breakfast ready that you notice a bulky silver ring sitting in the dish, left to dry and looking extremely clean.
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menofchaos · 3 months
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Oh yes please!
#7. Tracing the other’s lips with their finger
For my DevilMan Angel Reyes💜 Thank you!
Note: Hellooo, hope you like this one! I wrote it with this reader in mind but could be standalone!
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“Your girl fits in perfectly!”
The grin didn’t leave Angel’s face the whole night, only getting bigger with Cielo’s remark. They’d been on a few dates, with nothing more than a hug and a kiss on the cheek to end the night. Angel was never gun shy before but she was different. He knew she wouldn’t put up with his games. He learned that early when she would call him out for using overplayed lines on her. He wasn’t even sure she would actually come to the party but she was spinning around the dance floor with some of the other girls. Angel would glare at any man, patch or otherwise, who dared to get too close.
“2 minutes to midnight,” Bishop called, “Everyone outside!”
The party migrated outside and as soon as she was by his side, she took his hand, “What’s going on outside?” she asked.
Angel smiled, “We count down with fireworks and guns and then someone gets in the ring.”
Her eyes lit up, “My kind of party. Who’s fighting?”
“EZ and Hank,” he pointed out Hank, “Wanna watch?”
She grinned and walked onto the porch with him, wrapping an arm around his waist as the party counted down to midnight. He rested his arm around her shoulder, unable to look away from her.
“5…4…3…2…1! Happy New Year!”
She held his cheeks and kissed him, smiling when he pulled her closer. The cheering faded as they stumbled to the couch pushed into the corner of the porch, giggling against each other’s lips. She pulled back, tracing his lips with her finger. Angel shivered, lips parted as he looked up at her almost in awe.
“Happy New Year, Angel,” she whispered.
“Happy New Year, baby.”
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drabbles-mc · 3 months
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📸 credit: tecuanehair on Instagram
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dannypinot · 10 months
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MAYANS MC 5.01/5.02 
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darqchilddaydreamz · 8 months
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18+ ONLY BLOG *🚩MINORS GO AWAY!🚩
2.6k words
The Mayans belong to FX. My heart belongs to these fools & these stories belong to me.
Reblog! Comment like it sends me a thrill...cuz it does ;)
A/N: I have been BURSTING with WANT to get this one out to you. Saving it till last almost killed me. My suffering was for you my luv bugs...ENJOY!!!
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~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Angel
If your cousin could get away with killing you, you would be dead. The first real Mayan party she takes you to and you disappear before it was even halfway over with Angel fucking Reyes? Yep, dead.
Last night you both barely made it through your front door without giving your neighbors an explicit show. It was all rough groping and hungry kisses, the definition of the word ravage. Gripping and panting and cursing - like you were in a competition to see which one of you would make the other come the hardest.
But come morning, the Angel you woke up laying across wasn't the same man that had your neck in a vice grip the night before. He wasn't the same man that ripped your shirt off of you, in lieu of simply pulling it off over your head. No, this Angel looked at you slightly uncertain when he sat up. Your lips began to turn up in a sleepy smile but his eyes cut away from you and returned shielded with caution. He watched you with a wary expression as if you might have changed your mind. As if you would disapprove of your own decision last night and shoo him away. He shifted to get up but all it took was you resting your hand on his thigh to keep him from leaving. When you reached for him, he hesitated before leaning in. Closing his eyes, he slowly began to accept this softer side of you as you caressed his face and kissed his eyelids. You could feel the tension in his neck subside as you rubbed your thumb back and forth at his hairline. His hands began to wander, almost timidly, as if he hadn't owned every inch of you just hours before.
Whatever demons he used your body to fight last night were defeated…or maybe just appeased because the Angel who joined you in the shower and washed your back was a serene man. He used careful circling strokes with the loofah you handed him. And when you washed him in return, he leaned into the tile wall with his arms up to support himself. As you gently scrubbed, he flexed his fingers on the tile as if wanting to grip the wet surface in order to endure that level of care. Selfishly you wanted to touch him more - this beautiful, tattooed, melanin-kissed canvas. Turning him around you were distracted by a new fixation. The way his hair plastered to his forehead in chunks, heavy like his eyebrows and eyelashes, somehow softened his face even more. When you began to wash his hair, he dropped his head on your shoulder. The single kiss he pressed on your shoulder made you want to abandon your task altogether and simply hold him under the warm spray.
In the shower, Angel had caught sight of three fingertip-shaped marks he left on your calf. An uncivilized blemish left from the night before. Stopping you to look at them again in natural light, he leaned you forward against your dresser. His eyebrows furrowed as if he couldn't fathom having put them there, kissing them in a reverent apology. There, in the sunlit space of your room, this Angel searched you - opening your towel and brushing your skin with his thick fingers every place he had gripped and squeezed and battered into you - healing you with his explorations. Blessing you with tongue laps and kisses in scattered patterns only he understood.
His hands traveled constantly, reducing you to short gasps and high moans with your head thrown back as he traced the hollow of your hip and the unexplored small of your back. His fingertips tortured the back of your knee and the crevice between your cheeks, making you straighten your arms and raise up on your toes twisting to get away from the stimulation that made you tremble and your abdomen jerk. Yes, your cousin would have to forgive you for ignoring your phone ringing, because this Angel had you clinging to your dresser with your leg hanging over his shoulder, while his face was buried so deep between your legs you thought you might pass out. His tongue was flat, caressing and massaging like he was trying to prove the point that he could be something besides a rough-and-tumble lover.
To who? To you? To himself?
Last night he had slammed you, flipped you, held you up and pinned you down, but now this Angel stood to pick you up and carry you with his arms wrapped around you. There was an unanticipated tenderness in the way he secured your legs around him and buried his face in your neck for the few steps it took to get back to the bed. From your place on the pillows you were left to watch him roam from above, your hand buried in his hair accompanying him while his mouth traveled the planes of your body, getting you ready again. Your fingers feathered, stroked and dug into the damp silken texture of his hair, enjoying that he had no products in it to ruin the feel anymore.
Who was this Angel Reyes?
Who was this enchanting version of the man you met last night that now hovered over you silently asking permission before going further - mesmerizing you with the softest brown eyes you'd ever seen? Sober eyes that in the morning's daylight when he first woke up, couldn't quite hide the touch of disquiet within him. Clear eyes with a splinter of hurt buried deep in them - something that you wanted to pluck out and fulfill the urge to kill whoever planted it there. Fiery eyes that were now blazing with want as he sat on his heels to protect you from his previous life with latex. Fluttering eyes that closed in sync with the sweetest groan when he pressed into you, his thickness splitting your swollen tenderness open inch by inch.
Transcending on clouds of sensation, he took you with him - stretching you, letting you adjust to him again. Beneath him, you shifted your position until he mmm'd at settling against your back wall. Now rising up fully on his arms with his chain dangling, he pulled back and slid into you again and you were completely unprepared for the difference. The loud gasp that left you would have been embarrassing if you were capable of self-centered thought. Last night was good, great even - but this? This was a tiny piece of heaven that came from bodies working together wholly for the other's pleasure, not performance. His gold pendant danced across your chest as he rocked into you with powerful strokes, not fast but deep and caressing. His scooping hips angled his length perfectly to caress every spot inside you that turned you to jelly and coaxed unrestrained cries out of you. He adjusted and planted his hands, pausing after each swing up into you, grinding deeper as if he intended to take root and never leave. You clung to this Angel that murmured ¡Cristo! and ¡Preciosa! on gasping growls. He rolled out curses in two languages, grimacing as if in pain from the intensity of the sensations sparking electricity all over him. For him, every stroke into you was a perfection, an endless massage from tip to base. Your hot, wet suction had him tucking in his lips and turning his face into his own shoulder to muffle his own desperate sounds as he grew closer to the fullness of pleasure achieved.
Despite the need in him urging him on Angel was not rushing you. He felt your trembles start and stretched out your pleasure until he couldn't any longer. When he felt you fluttering around him and caved. His soft slurring speech near your ear begged to feel your release, turning you to ruin, making you lose all control. The way he cupped the sides of your head in his hands with his cheek pressed against yours during the final build-up to his release was a needy and possessive act as if being inside you wasn't enough now, but he didn't know how to obtain more.
More of what? 
He didn't even know, so he clawed blindly to find it - his intentional movements turning feverish. Grasping fistfuls of your hair, your hips, your shoulders, the sheets - he gathered you up and let your final helpless cries carry him over, losing himself in the spasms and the sweat, your voice and your hands tugging him deeper. Refusing to let him run from the pleasure he had earned, you locked your ankles on the backs of his thighs. You found a thrill in the way his body jerked and absorbed his helpless noises into your mouth and the crook of your neck. Settling back to earth one piece at a time, this Angel kept his eyes closed to focus on your heavy breathing and whispers. He stayed inside of you, grounded yet weightless, letting you stroke his back with the same care that you offered in the shower. Daring to feel the contentment that usually left him as soon as the strongest tremors ended. Daring to stay and decompress in your arms. Daring to soak in your softness that demanded nothing from him. Listening to the quiet voice in his head, that he rarely heard actually encouraging him, say…Feel it all.
This was the Angel he wished life allowed him to be.
0.o.0.o.0
"Did I-?" Angel stood in your living room, looking around, digging in his front pocket for his keys. His eyebrows furrowed, not finding what he was looking for. "I thought I had a jacket."
"What?"
"Nothing…just-". Giving the room another glance, he shrugged one shoulder slightly, "My hoodie."
Looking around, you question, "You sure you brought one?"
Frowning, he rubbed his beard and ran his hands through the hair flopping forward onto his forehead, pushing it back. Flashing the same devilish smile that got him into your bed in the first place, he shook his head, chuckling darkly, "I ain't sure of shit from last night, hermosa."
You watched him run his hand through his hair again. Agitated? Uncomfortable? There was something about his moments lacking confidence that you liked. You smiled at his sliding shuffle toward the front door, "Well if I see it, I can-".
He raised his eyebrows in agreement, "Yeah…thanks."
At the door, he opened his mouth, then closed it. Rubbing the back of his neck, he decided against whatever it was he was going to say and kissed you roughly on the cheek. Opening the door he turned back to you. With his eyes half hidden by his thick, straight eyelashes, he leaned in again to kiss your lips. Pulling him closer was automatic, digging your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck was satisfying a need in you and expanding the feeling in your chest. You felt the surprise in his body language disappear in less than a second and you smiled on his lips as he wrapped you up in his arms and drug you up onto your toes.
Breaking the kiss, he kept his hands cupping your face, peering down into your eyes. You said nothing, letting him search you. Realizing what he was doing, he let go and stepped back. Straightening his shoulders, he adjusted his cut again and stepped outside, turning back to you.
"Okay…so--".
"I will." It came out in a rush of promise and you wiggled your phone at him.
There was no way you wouldn't call. Initially, you weren't sure he would want to see you again but nothing in the way he was leaving that made you think he didn't. You also didn't expect that he would offer you his number either, but he had. His eyes flashed something that looked hopeful, so boyish it made you smile while holding your phone to your chest before you closed the door on his retreating back.
Listening to his bike's rumble soften into the distance, you lifted the couch cushion to pull out his hoodie from where you had hidden it while he was in the bathroom. Slipping it on over your t-shirt and zipping it up, you closed your eyes smelling the scent of him still in it - cologne and cigarettes, masculinity and baked-in heat from long rides in the southern California desert. Flopping on the couch, you tucked your legs under yourself smiling in advance - you could already hear your cousin shrieking and cussing you out.
5 missed calls and 4 texts. Picking up your phone to call her, your mind went to him. No, you weren't ready to face her wrath just yet, so you sent her a text to let her know you were fine and that you'd call her later. Turning the ringer off, you tossed it back on the couch. You didn't want anything to mar your morning. Smiling to yourself, you unconsciously breathed in his scent from the hoodie you'd stolen from him.
Angel fucking Reyes.
0.o.0.o.0
Angel tried not to count the hours since he left you, but time was ticking by so loudly in his head that it was a distraction. The first 8 hours passed with him checking his phone often but after that, he mastered not looking at it at all. At 32 hours, he went to his pop's house and drank just enough to shut his inner voice down. At 42 hours, he let the disappointment sink in and the air he carried around him was heavy enough to keep everyone but EZ away. The following day, Angel's scowl stayed fixed on his face during templo, it looked like anger to his brothers but in actuality, he was confused. He thought he saw something there when you looked at him, but your silence was telling him otherwise. To him, your silence translated to you being one more person that didn't choose him. One more woman he wasn't quite good enough for. Even though he expected it, this time it wasn't so easy for him to accept. How did I fuck it up?
He leaned on the porch railing at the clubhouse, absentmindedly smoking and staring off across the yard when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Seeing a message with two pictures attached, he opened it and you sprang into view. A picture of you and a few other people smiling and pointing to a "Welcome to San Diego" sign filled the small screen. Across the bottom, it read: Took you with me on vacation!
Taking a second look at the picture, he could see that you were wearing his hoodie. The smile that twitched across his lips caught EZ's attention. "What? Who's that?"
Angel shook his head in the negative, brushing him off and opened the second picture. At first glance, his jaw went slack and he quickly turned his back on his brother, stepping a few steps away before looking at it again. Standing in the mirror with your phone over your face, you had taken a picture of yourself with his hoodie on, unzipped. The full-length photo was just you, the open hoodie, a shimmering necklace and a scrap of fabric one could call panties on a generous day. The text at the bottom read: I'm back…You gonna come get it?
Angel tucked his phone back into his pocket with an easy smile, letting the feeling rush through him. The lightening of gravity on his body, the tingle of hope still undefined. He felt the little spook that had been clinging to his back since he was a boy whispering 'never good enough', start to release its hold for once.
Already at the bottom of the stairs, he called out, "Gotta pick up somethin', mano."
EZ took note of the quickness of his steps propelling him across the yard toward his bike, "You comin' back?"
Angel didn't try to control the grin that spread across his face, "Hope not!"
-fin-
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