#Miguel Galindo x you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onesstop · 2 years ago

Text

Don't Make It Harder On Me

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: Miguel Galindo x woc!reader

Summary: You broke it off for good reason, but that doesn't mean Miguel is willing to let you go. Especially when he knows you aren't over him either.

Word Count: 9k (bro wtf)

Warnings: my poor attempt at some angst, cheating, violence, general language warning, fingering, pet names, miguel being a lil bossy, also miguel talking a lil shit ayyee, sex in risky places, choking, mirror sex.

A/N: Whew chile it's been a minute but this is me attempting to break my hiatus while also trying to feed yall some good ol mayans content. I was gonna break this up into two parts but then I said fuck it. Hope yall don't hate that. I gave it a look over but I might have missed some errors and typos. My bad if I did. The divider is by @firefly-graphics

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don’t forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.

It was never your intention to get involved with a married man, in fact all your life you swore that you’d never be a man’s mistress. That was before Miguel Galindo came sweeping into the little boutique looking to buy an anniversary gift for his wife. You had been swept up in the tailored suit, suave demeanor, smooth voice, and God was he charming. If you hadn’t known better you could have sworn he had been flirting with you the whole time you assisted him that day. It hadn’t gone further than that, you had insisted on trying not to cross that line.

He didn’t make it easy for you though, visits becoming more frequent and him insisting you be the one to lead him around the boutique as he shopped for various people in his life. It wasn’t until a heated moment when you almost cracked under the sexual tension that had built to the point that stifling was the only way it could be described. “You’re married.” You had told him, breathless as his mouth peppered kisses along your jaw and down your throat. His beard scratched against your soft skin as his fingers gripped against the curve of your hips.

“What if I wasn’t?” You didn’t know it but the man had been steadily growing disenchanted with his wife. The love he had once felt for her eventually giving way to resentment and well on its way to being nothing at all. It was her own doing, an inability to stay away from an ex boyfriend, keeping secrets, and not being able to accept his other world.

“If you weren’t we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” You breathed out, finally finding the will to push Miguel away from you so that you could steady your breathing and smooth out your clothes. “I’m not about to be your side chick, Miguel. And if you’re willing to cheat on your wife then you’re willing to do me dirty as well.” You explained, turning to look at yourself in the dressing room mirror while Miguel stood behind you with a sobering look on his face.

“I don’t love her anymore, she’s not the woman I thought she was. I’m only with her until the lawyers work out a way to ensure I get custody of my son.”

Your gaze met his in the mirror, a soft sigh on your lips as you tried to sort out how you felt about the admission. “Don’t make this harder on me.” You whisper, his confession didn’t change anything, he was still married and you were still concerned that he was just talking a good game. One you desperately wanted to believe. Picking up his purchases, you left him there in the dressing room, satisfied that you didn’t look like you had nearly let yourself be seduced by the man.

“Mrs. Galindo, what a surprise to see you here.” Came the voice of the shop owner, almost a bit too loud as if she were trying to warn you that the wife had just walked in. You sighed, just what you wanted to deal with that day. You stepped into the main area of the boutique, a forced smile on your lips as you took in the blonde standing there at the counter. She regarded you for a moment, almost dismissively with a sniff as she read the name on the badge you wore. It was a name she had seen often, in fact your name was on every single one of the receipts that Emily had pulled from the boutique's bags when she was going through them. Miguel always insisted you ring him up so that you reached your sales quota. Clearly Emily was feeling some type of way now that she was finally able to lay eyes on you.

You were everything she wasn’t in the looks department, and as confident as she was, you had her shook. Especially when Miguel appeared from the dressing room area of the store and took a moment to place a hand against your shoulder to offer his thanks for always being so helpful. It would have seemed innocent enough had it not been for the way that his hand lingered. Emily’s eyes had zeroed in on it, and Miguel seemed to be oblivious to that fact. You were hyper aware of it, a swell of guilt over taking you at the thought that you had nearly fucked this woman’s husband just minutes ago, and now he was acting like she wasn’t even standing there.

“Will this be all, Mr. Galindo?” You questioned, stepping away from him and starting to ring up his items while he seemed to take the hint that maybe, just maybe he should not make things harder on you while his wife was standing there.

“Yes, thank you.” He replied, tone taking on a more reserved quality as he moved to where his wife stood and greeted her with a kiss and a few affectionate words. To your credit you didn’t let yourself glare at the display, even as your stomach twisted with jealousy at the sight. You kept your eyes down, only looking up to give the total which Miguel paid for and then it happened. Emily Galindo found a way to make you feel a little less guilty about wanting to fuck her husband. As you lifted the bag to hand to Miguel, his wife reached out in a flash to snatch the bag from your hands. She had barely had your attention up until that point, but now? Now you were outright staring at her in a way that said the bitch had you all the way fucked up. As if sensing the tension, Miguel was quick to put an arm around Emily and escort her towards the door. Stopping to look over his shoulder to mouth ‘sorry’ at you as he shook his head.

After that day you were more aware of Emily Galindo’s presence around town, it was almost like she was making appearances just to be seen. Some days even stopping into the boutique to buy something and oh so innocently asking if there was anything to pick up for Miguel. You never assisted her, Emily even going out of her way to have someone else ring up the purchases so your quota would come up short. Of course when Miguel found out about that he found his ways around it, making sure that on the off chance that Emily would make an appearance in the boutique that everything was already paid for and the credit for the sale had gone to you. Things went on like that for a couple of weeks, and you tolerated it. Thinking nothing more of Emily’s behavior as petty, childish, and fueled by jealousy.

Then came the fateful day that you were working late, and just so happened to catch sight of Emily Galindo in the arms of another man. She even kissed him, on the cheek, the way her lips lingered giving you the impression that there was something more going on. You didn’t know why you did it, but you’d taken a couple of pictures of the exchange between Emily and the man that wore a Mayan kutte.

The temptation to attach the photos to a text and send them to Miguel was strong, but then the creeping thought of; what if she’s only been chased into the arms of another man because of Miguel’s interest in you? That was the only thing that kept you from setting Emily’s life on fire, but the reprieve would prove to be short lived when a week later Nestor made a rare solo appearance in the boutique as you were preparing to close up.

“Nestor, you know we’re closing in five minutes right?” You questioned, tone friendly and still welcoming even though you were partly concerned and confused about why he was there. You and Nestor had a cordial and somewhat friendly relationship, it was mostly due to Miguel seemingly insisting that you and his right hand man were on good terms. You didn’t know Nestor well, but you knew he was loyal and cared about Miguel deeply. It was something that you could respect and appreciate, even if you were resistant to starting something with Miguel due to his marriage you had grown to care about him. It was why the pictures of Emily and her mystery Mayan were still burning in your phone and why you’d taken a few more in the days after when her visits became a little more frequent.

“Yeah I know, I actually wanted to talk to you.” That got your attention, and your hands stilled against the shirts that you were folding.

“About?”

“What’s going on with you and Miguel?”

You took a breath, looking over at the man with an almost tired expression.

“Nothings going on.” You answered, gaze quickly dropping as you resumed your folding.

“But you want there to be something.” Nestor was observant, and you supposed you hadn’t been as covert as you possibly could have with your longing glances and wry smiles around Miguel. “You care about him?”

“Nestor what is this about? Because if you’re here to tell me I should leave him alone then trust me, I already know. Okay? I can’t control what that man does. He’s a cartel leader, he basically owns the town. I have been doing my best to set boundaries, but I can’t make him stop pursuing me. So if that’s why you’re here then you need to have that conversation with him, because I’ve already tried. Alright? I mean I remind him every single time I see him that he’s married.” You were rambling, venting almost as you started to unload all this on Nestor who just stood quietly and listened.

“Honestly, you don’t know how hard it is for me to see him and pretend that I don’t care about him as much as I do. Or keep things from him because I know it’s not my place to tell him what his wife has been up to.”

“Wait, what?”

You shut up then, realizing that in your unburdening you let it slip that you were privy to information that wasn’t known.

“What has his wife been up to?”

“Nestor—”

“If you care about him you’ll tell me what you know.”

That was a dirty card to play, but Nestor didn’t play fair. Sighing heavily you moved behind the sales counter and pulled your phone from where it rested beside the register. “About a week ago I was running a bit late with closing, and I spotted Emily with some guy in a biker kutte.” You explained pulling up the incriminating photos before handing the phone to Nestor so that he could see for himself. His lack of reaction struck you as strange, if anything he didn’t look surprised at all.

“Why didn’t you tell Miguel about it?” He questioned, tapping on the screen and quickly sending the photos to his phone before you could stop him.

“Well I didn’t think it would be fair of me to blow her up when I’m likely the reason she’s all hugged up with another man. I mean come on, you saw her that day when she came into the shop. I’m sure she’s aware that Miguel has a wandering eye.”

“He doesn’t have a wandering eye, he just doesn’t love her anymore.” Nestor replied absently as he sat your phone down and focused on his own. “And you aren’t the reason why she stepped out. Miguel’s been suspicious for months now that she’s been trying to rekindle something with her ex.” Your mouth dropped open slightly, brow furrowed as you processed that bit of information. So Miguel hadn’t been lying when he said he was preparing to leave her, and you weren’t the reason why she was seemingly stepping out. That seemed to make any remaining guilt evaporate in an instant.

“Nestor, could you tell him to call me?” Nestor just nodded, not questioning it as he left you to finish closing up the boutique.

By the time you got home, Miguel’s name was flashing across your screen and for the first time since he’d manage to somehow get your number, you didn’t chastise him for calling you so late.

Things only escalated from there, and the two of you began to see much more of each other. There were late night visits, gifts, dates out of town, sometimes even out of state. You’d even been in his house, and around his son and mother while Emily was out doing who knew what. His men had even gotten used to seeing you around, growing fond of you as you always came bearing gifts and a friendly smile for them. Part of you knew that endearing yourself to them would play a big part in them wanting to keep Miguel’s secret relationship with you out of more than just fear of the man.

Emily still made her appearances, and tempted you to throw it in her face that you knew she wasn’t as devoted and loyal as she tried to pretend she was. You let the truth die on your tongue as you kept up the mask of professionalism while knowing Miguel would be buried inside you by the end of the day.

You put up with it for another month, and in that time things seemed to take a turn for Emily Thomas. First her Mayan ex found himself with a new girlfriend, a pretty girl named Gabriela that you thought was sweet. She’d only come into the boutique you worked at a couple of times looking for a new dress, and you two had chatted easily. You may or may not have told her to leave herself open to the possibility of something blooming between her and the Mayan who you had come to know was named Ezekiel. Apparently Gaby had taken your advice, and now with no other romantic option, Emily was doing her best to try and hold onto her dead marriage.

Her answer to attempting to stoke the flame between her and Miguel was a resort trip, one where it’d just be her and him while their son remained with a nanny. Jealousy had sparked at that, especially when Miguel agreed to the trip with the excuse of having to keep up appearances. You had been angry, but then you decided to be petty.

It was just a few pictures, pictures of you wearing nothing but the most recent set of very pricey lingerie that Miguel had gifted you. It was meant to simply remind him what he was missing out on, but apparently it was more effective than you expected. The end of your shift came, and as if on cue Miguel’s black suv came to a halt in front of the building. Before you knew it you were being ushered inside the spacious backseat, and he had you in his arms as he pulled you into his lap with a searing kiss on your lips.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with her.” You questioned once you’d caught your breath, and your head had stopped swimming from the kiss.

“I told her there was an emergency here in Santo Padre, I have to go back in the morning.” He answered, and you didn’t need him to elaborate on what the emergency was. You could feel it pressing up against your core. Something about knowing that the man would rather be with you than on some sunny beach with her stoked your ego in the worst way. Miguel only fed into it as he let his mouth latch onto your neck to leave a trail of open mouth kisses.

“You just couldn’t resist sending me those pictures could you?” He questioned a moment later, his hands already venturing under your skirt to push your panties aside. By the time the vehicle had pulled off from in front of the boutique he was knuckle deep inside of you, and you were moaning into his neck shamelessly. You were aware of the man in the front seat driving, and to his credit he made sure to keep his eyes on the road and took it upon himself to turn on the radio. It was a false sense of privacy, but you hardly cared as Miguel’s fingers worked that spongy spot nestled in your core that never failed to have your toes curling.

“I had to remind you what you had waiting on you back home.” You managed to get out, your lipstick smudging against his collar as you moved against his fingers. “Had to give you something to think about in case you had to fuck her.” You added with a mischievous grin that had him growling in the back of his throat.

“Oh preciosa, were you jealous?” His fingers thrust into you more insistently, bringing a needy moan out of you. “Were you worried that you’d have to share cock this with her?” His question had you pouting for a moment, hating that it was true. “Don’t worry, princesa. It won’t be long before she’s out of the picture, and you’ll have me all to yourself.” It was a promise, you knew it, but part of you was growing impatient with how long things were taking. Luckily for Miguel his fingers inside you were proving to be the perfect distraction from you asking how much longer it’d be before he presented the divorce papers.

“I’m close, Miguel.” You moaned, hearing his hum of approval as he snaked his free hand up to grip you by the back of your neck as he guided you in for another heated kiss. He worked his fingers against that sweet spot until you were falling over the edge and crying out for him. Miguel swallowed your moans greedily, fingers still thrusting into you as he let you ride out your orgasm against them.

“That’s my good girl, let’s get inside.” He gave your ass a slap, jolting you back to reality enough for you to realize that he’d brought you to his house. Quickly you moved out of his lap and smoothed out your clothes to be presentable before you got out of the vehicle. There was no need to sneak in, his staff knew you by that point and seemed to like you more than they did Emily. In any case, Miguel wasted no time in getting you into his bedroom and having his way with you. At some point after a couple rounds, and a steamy shower you had pulled Miguel in front of the bathroom mirror to snap a picture with him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken a picture with him, and just like all the other ones you’d posted on your insta you made sure his face was concealed.

As the saying goes; No face, no case.

Except for the fact that you didn’t expect Emily to hunt down your instagram after the vacation was over and she had been stewing with her suspicions. You also didn’t expect her to recognize the setting. More importantly you didn’t expect her to show up at the boutique one night, screaming and raving that she knew you were fucking her husband. Unfortunately that was exactly what had happened.

Emily blew into the boutique like a storm, making a beeline for you only to be cut off by the two employees that were working while the owner quickly ushered you to the back. You could hear it all though, she sounded insane and she was clearly looking for an altercation. Before you even knew what you were doing you were dialing Miguel.

“Preciosa, I’m going to hav—”

“How much do you still love your wife?” The question struck him silent for all of a second before you could hear the sound of him moving away from the voices in the background.

“What type of question is that, you know I don’t.”

“I’m just making sure, because she’s here making a fucking scene and if I have to put hands on her I’m not about to hesitate.”

“Mi amor, I’m on my way. Don’t do anything drastic.”

“I’ll try, but if she doesn’t leave I’m going to make her.” You hung up then, the sound of Emily’s yelling floating back to settle on your ears before you made your way back to the front. You refused to hide from her, and if she wanted smoke you had plenty of it for her. Her yelling ceased for only a moment, just long enough for you to reappear from the back to see her on the phone before she was looking up at you again with an accusing glance.

“Did you fucking call my husband? You whore! You did, didn't you!” She hadn’t hung up the phone, and you could hear Miguel’s voice shouting for Emily to calm down. It was too late for that, and she had already pushed through the two employees that had been trying to keep you two separated. “You’re so pathetic, you had to call MY husband to save you!”

And then she slapped you.

Everything went quiet, so quiet that a pin could be heard dropping.

“I don’t need a man to save me, bitch. But you’re gonna.” It was the only warning that you gave the bleach blonde before your fist struck out and connected with her nose. There was a crunch but that didn’t stop you from following her down as she fell to the ground. Your fist connected a few more times, before she was grappling with you, having the nerve to pull on your hair before you broke her hold and popped her right in the mouth. Your fist was raised to land another blow before you felt yourself being lifted in the air by strong arms, and your first instinct was to fight until a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

“¡Cálmate, por favor!” It was Miguel, you had no idea where he had been to get there so fast but you could feel him keeping a firm grip on you as you made an attempt to lunge at Emily as she crawled, stumbled, and dragged herself to her feet unsteadily.

“Call the police! I want the police!” She screamed, already playing the victim even though she had instigated the ass beating she’d just got.

“Em—” Miguel had started only to be cut off.

“No, I want the cops here. Or I want that slut dealt with.” She was bleeding from the mouth, and shaking as she looked around wildly only to find that no one was making a move to do what she wanted.

“I’m so sorry, Senor Galindo. Your wife, she…” The owner of the boutique shook her head as she glanced between you and the beaten Emily. “She came in here screaming, and then she attacked her. My employee was just defending herself.” The woman explained motioning to you, not realizing that Miguel already knew exactly what had transpired after overhearing the exchange after Emily had forgotten to hang up her phone before she attacked.

“Is this true?” The question was posed to his men that had accompanied Emily into the boutique and simply stood back and let it all play out. They nodded silently and Emily seemed to realize then that she had no allies. “Nestor, take this young lady and put her in my car.” You couldn’t see it over your shoulder, but you could feel the anger radiating off of Miguel as he glared hard at Emily. Nestor said nothing as he gathered you under one of his arms and guided you past Emily who had the good sense to jump back when you came close. She didn’t move fast enough and Nestor didn’t have as tight of a hold on you as he thought, because as soon as you were close enough you lunged, hands grabbing and latching onto Emily’s blonde hair.

“Shit!” Nestor shouted, moving after you to drag you back but it was too late. Your grip was already locked in and as he dragged you towards the door of the boutique Emily was dragged along with you kicking and screaming. It took some doing, but between three grown men they were able to get you off of her and outside, but not before you had one last thing to say.

“Let me know when you’re ready for round two, bitch!” You could hear Nestor sigh as he led you outside, and ushered you into the back seat of Miguel’s car.

“You okay?” He questioned, sighing again when you didn’t answer and focused your attention on the view outside the window. You were too pissed to speak at the moment, hands still shaking as your body practically vibrated with rage as you fought every instinct to not rush back inside and finish what Emily had started. Just when you were ready to go and do that, Miguel appeared and silently climbed into the back of the vehicle. Carefully he took your shaking hands into his and brought his lips to your aching knuckles to drop gentle kisses against them as he murmured his apologies.

“I am so sorry, mi amor. This should have never happened, you should have never been put into a situation where you would have to fight because of me.” His words were a bit of a balm to your still simmering temper, and a reminder that you were clearly his priority despite his current marital status. Still that wasn’t enough, and after what had just happened you were done waiting for the right time or the right moment.

“I’m not doing this anymore.” You said simply, causing Miguel to pause and meet your gaze. “I’m not about to be on the sideline while you play house with that unstable bitch. You either figure your shit out and divorce her or you leave me the fuck alone.”

You could see the hard set in Miguel’s jaw as he let your words settle in his mind. “Preciosa I—”

“No! That woman came to my job, called me out my name, and put hands on me. You don’t get to sweet talk your way out of this. I’m done until you show me that you’re no longer a married man.” You hated giving an ultimatum but the events of the night had left you with no choice. “Oh, and if I see her again I’m beating her ass on sight every time. Now take me home.”

Miguel hadn’t argued with you, letting you stay on your side of the vehicle the entire ride back to your place. His attempt at saying goodbye was cut off by the slamming of the suv’s door as you stalked to the front door of your apartment.

A month went by with no calls, no text, and no appearances from Miguel. Emily was MIA as well, and life was quiet. Part of you figured that Miguel had turned out to be just another married man who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. So you did the only thing you could, you tried to move on despite the bitter heartache that you felt. You figured it was the price you had to pay for falling for a married man, rarely did they ever actually leave their wives. Especially when there was a child in the mix. You didn’t doubt that he wanted out, but the saying has always been ‘it’s cheaper to keep her’ for a reason.

By the second month you found yourself in a new relationship with a man who was single when he met you. He was kind, handsome, he had a good job, and he doted on you. He didn’t judge you when you finally told him why your last relationship fell through. Another four months passed and the relationship blossomed, you weren’t necessarily in love with him yet, but you thought to yourself that you could see yourself falling if things stayed that good. At least that was what you kept telling yourself in an effort to bury that little bit of your heart that still yearned for Miguel.

The fact that he was on your mind when you heard the knock at your front door should have been a warning, but you weren’t expecting any visitors that evening so cautiously you made way towards it.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, preciosa.” It’d been so long that you were surprised enough to immediately open the door just to make sure that voice belonged to who you thought it did. Seeing Miguel standing there had you torn between slamming the door in his face or inviting him in. “Can we talk?”

He was lucky that you were calmer now that enough time had passed. Seeing him again seemed to rip open old wounds, and as much as you didn’t want to you couldn’t help but stare. He was the last person you expected to show up at your door, and part of you was happy to see him again. Another part of your though was torn and wary at his presence. He wanted to talk, and despite your warring emotions you wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Yeah, we can talk.” You stepped aside and gave him room to enter your humble apartment. Closing and locking the door behind him you watched as Miguel made himself comfortable on your sofa and waited for you to settle in beside him. You sat yourself at the far end of the sofa, giving him an expectant look that whatever he needed to say now was the time to say it.

“The divorce got messy,” He started, and you could feel your heart stammer in your chest. You expected him to say that Emily convinced him to stay with her, but his next words surprise you. “It took longer than I wanted once papers were served, but it’s done.”

“It’s done?” You repeated the words, and he nodded.

“She tried to use the photos from your social media as proof that I cheated first. The judge threw it out because there was no actual proof that it was me in the photos.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment you let out a small laugh. No face, no case indeed.

“Ironically enough, her attacking you that night was enough for me to convince the judge to grant me full custody of Cristobal. She still gets supervised visits though.” He continued to explain.

You merely nodded, accepting that. “She’s his mother, it’d be cruel to cut her out of his life entirely.” You replied, keeping your tone even. “Now that you’ve gotten everything that you wanted, what are you doing here?”

Miguel shook his head, moving closer to you until he was close enough to pull you against him. “I don’t have everything I want. I don’t have you back with me yet.” It would have been so easy to simply give in right then and there, being in his arms again felt so right, and knowing that all this time he’d been wanting you helped to heal the heartache. But then your mind wandered to your current boyfriend, and you forced yourself to ease your way out of Miguel’s arms and once again put some distance between the two of you. You hated to see the confusion that crossed his features, but the man you were dating now was a good man and he didn’t deserve to have you stepping out on him now that Miguel was choosing to pop back into your life.

“Look, I’m happy that you’re out of an unhappy marriage,” you started, steeling yourself for what you had to say next. “But when I didn’t hear from you for two months I stopped waiting around.” You told him, and before he could interrupt you continued. “I know you probably couldn’t have come around or reached out personally because of the divorce proceedings, but a man like you has so many resources and you didn’t use any of them. You can’t blame me for thinking you chose your marriage over what we hav—had.” You were quick to correct yourself, but Miguel heard the small slip up and it told him what he needed to know.

“You’re right, mi amor. I assumed you would wait, and that was unfair to do without letting you know what was happening, but—”

“No buts, Miguel. I’m with someone now, I have a boyfriend that has no attachments to another woman and he treats me really well. He makes me happy,” but Miguel made you feel so much more than happy, and you knew it, but the thought of breaking another’s heart so selfishly had you refusing to acknowledge what you truly wanted. “I...I think you should go, thank you for letting me know the time we spent together was real but I can’t just jump back into bed with you now that you’re free. He’s a good man and he doesn’t deserve that.”

It wasn’t the answer Miguel wanted to hear, but you were determined to at least try and be a good person this time around. Miguel nodded, jaw set so hard you could see the muscle ticking when he stood to his feet and walked towards the door of your apartment. You hated to let him go, and you knew better than to look over your shoulder in his direction but you still did it anyway. “I’m not giving up on us, preciosa. Your new man might be good, but he’s not me.”

His words lingered in your mind long after he was gone, and you wondered what he was planning. You found out a week later when you went to pay rent only to be told that it had been paid up for the remainder of your lease. You hadn’t exactly been excited to hear that, and your attempts to call or text Miguel had all led to you being unable to reach him. A week after that a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a box in a certain recognizable blue shade was delivered to your door, you knew it was from Miguel. Your new man always got you roses instead of your favorites, and the two of you weren’t in the jewelry giving stage of your new relationship yet, and seeing that blue box had you suddenly feeling wary. A quick search on the website had you furiously dialing Miguel’s number, only for him to send you to voicemail. Your texts were left on read, and despite knowing that he was forcing your hand to go to him, you did anyway. You needed to return this damn necklace and let Miguel know that you weren’t about to be swayed by expensive gifts.

The guards, and the household staff were all too happy to see you again, and despite your determination to put boundaries in place you couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling of being back there. God you missed him, and this place, and all the people here but you were resolute in your decision to not give in to the temptation of running back to Miguel.

“He’s been expecting you.” The familiar voice of Nestor informed you once you stepped into the living room. Eyeing the little blue Tiffany’s bag in your hand he merely shook his head and motioned towards the direction of Miguel’s office. You offered up a quiet thank you, heels clacking loudly against the expensive flooring of the Galindo mansion. You didn’t stop at the door, striding in with purpose and confidence that nearly collapsed at the sight of Miguel sitting behind his desk in a suit that only made him look more attractive than he already was.

“Preciosa, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” His question caused you to narrow your eyes in his direction. He knew damn well why you were there, but clearly he was going to play games. You huffed, annoyed that you weren’t really all that annoyed as you sat the Tiffany’s bag on his desk with an expectant look on your face. Miguel followed the movement, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he reached out to slide it towards himself. “So you got my gift, good, but you didn’t have to come all this way just to thank me.”

Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head. “I’m not here to thank you Miguel, I’m here to return that ridiculously expensive necklace.”You shot back, doing your best to stand firm when Miguel stood from his chair and began to slowly circle his way around his desk. A desk that held several memories that you were trying not to think of at the present moment. “I’m not in the habit of taking back gifts, mi amor.” He replied, voice smooth as honey while he kept you in his sights. For a moment you felt like prey being closed in on by the wolf, and truly you might as well have been considering you’d done exactly as Miguel wanted you to by going to see him that day.

“Miguel, that necklace is over one hundred thousand dollars. I can’t accept something like that from you.” You challenged, gasping when the sudden feeling of Miguel’s hands on your waist all but burned through the dress you wore. For a moment you simply stood there, nails biting into your palms as you curled them into fists to fight off the urge to reach out and touch Miguel. it was all you could do to steel yourself and resist the man that was testing your patience like no one else could.

“You can and you will.” Slowly he turned you around, making you face his desk while he stood close enough for his body heat to seep into you, and the smell of his cologne to invade your senses. You hadn’t realized that your eyes had slipped closed until they flew open at the feeling of cold metal against your warm skin. Before you could protest Miguel quickly fastened the far too pricey necklace around your neck, leaving the diamond pendant to settle against the hollow of your throat. You didn’t expect the feeling of his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw after that, and the soft gasp that flew from your lips was unmistakable.

For a moment you just let yourself stay there relishing the feeling of his beard softly scraping against your soft skin as he left a slow trail of kisses along your shoulderblade, but soon enough warning bells began to ring loud and clear in your mind. This was dangerous, and you were falling right into the trap that you swore you were going to avoid. Quickly you stepped away from Miguel, needing space to breathe and distance so you could think clearly. “Dammit.” You cursed under your breath, tears of frustration brimming in your eyes while you tried to avoid looking at the man who you were desperately trying to resist. “Why? Why are you doing this?” You questioned, tone accusing as you motioned between the two of you.

You knew why, but some twisted part of you needed to hear him say it.

“Because I love you, preciosa, and I’m not giving up on us when I know you still feel the same about me.” His words cut like a knife right through all the bullshit reasons you’d been repeating to yourself since the day he’d shown up to tell you he was done with Emily, and still wanting you. Every rebuttal that you had died on your tongue, no denial of your own feelings would make its way past your lips. All you could do was rush from the room before he could get his hands on you again.

You didn’t remember the necklace until later that day after you’d taken a long shower to try and wash away the guilt of being in love with another man while you had a devoted and caring boyfriend. The diamond pendant glared at you from the mirror, glinting brightly in the low lights and reminding you of the moment that Miguel had put it on you. You had half a mind to take it off, you should have taken it off, and yet when you moved to do so you couldn’t bring yourself to remove Miguel’s token of affection from around your throat. Perhaps you were a bad person, the invasive thought trickled in making you turn away from the mirror with a frustrated sigh.

That night you didn’t sleep peacefully. You tossed and turned all night, memories of Miguel invading your dreams and leaving you on edge and irritable by the time morning came. An early morning text from your boyfriend was left on read, your shift at the boutique dragged on, and by the end of the day you only barely remembered that it was date night. You didn’t want to go, but you knew that your boyfriend had jumped through hoops and saved all so he could treat you to dinner at some expensive restaurant an hour outside of town. For some odd reason the thought of it filled you with dread, like there was something looming just on the horizon that you couldn’t see yet. It had a pit settling in your stomach as you rushed home to shower, primp, and get dressed for something that had you feeling damned.

The car ride to the restaurant was spent with you engaging in the most minimal conversation while your fingers toyed idly with Miguel’s necklace. When asked what had you so down you simply lied, playing it off as just being tired from having to work that day. Your boyfriend bought the excuse easily enough, and by the end of the drive you were starting to feel guilty for your sour mood. You resolved yourself to be in a better mood for the rest of the evening, reminding yourself that just a month ago you were excited about the prospect of dinner at this place. So with a convincing, yet fake, smile you walked hand in hand into the building with your boyfriend.

Your smile immediately deflated when you saw that the table you were to be sitting at was only a few tables away from one currently occupied by Miguel and another woman. Instantly you felt dizzy. Thankfully you were already in the process of sitting, otherwise you were sure that you would have fallen over from the shock of seeing the man again so soon, and with another woman in his face. Anger, and bitter jealousy swirled in the pit of your stomach as you glanced over at their table from the corner of your eye. There was no telling what they were discussing, and Miguel’s back was to you so you couldn’t see his expression. All you knew was that he was making this woman smile, and she was laughing a bit too much for your liking.

With a deep breath in, and a slow exhale out you forced yourself to ignore it and try to enjoy your night. It was easier said than done but you managed to get through appetizers and a couple glasses of wine before everything seemingly came crashing down. It started with your boyfriend nervously gearing up to say something while you worriedly waited for him to spit whatever it was he wanted to say out.

“I’ve been trying to think of the best way to say this but, um…well the best way to say it is to just say it.” He paused for a moment, and you nervously brought your glass of wine to your lips with the intention of sipping at it. “I love you.”

You choked and sputtered into your wine glass, some of it spilling out and landing on your dress while you clumsily tried to place your glass back onto the table. It landed on the edge, and soon it shattered on the floor with a crash while you were jumping out of your seat. Your gaze moved to Miguel’s table, meeting his gaze as he watched you curiously before noticing the man on the other side of the table trying to help clean up the mess. His gaze grew hard and dangerous at the sight of your boyfriend, and the only thing you could think to do was leave. “I need to go, sorry.” Words rushed out of you as you turned on your heels and nearly ran to the restroom, choosing to take the individual family stall for a bit of much needed privacy.

You didn’t see Miguel excusing himself from his own table and following after you at a distance, nor did you expect him to take advantage of you forgetting to lock the door behind you and slipping into the restroom stall. You were caught up in trying to steady your breathing and fight back the wave of nausea that had hit you that you didn’t even notice Miguel there at first. Too busy cursing yourself for being so stupid and selfish and letting things get this far, how had you missed the signs that things had gotten this serious? Were you truly that oblivious to the man you were dating falling in love with you?

“God dammit.” You hissed, a hand smacking down on the sink as you resisted the urge to yell in frustration. There was no way you could go back out there and return the sentiment without it being a lie, and now more than ever it was clear that you wouldn’t ever get there with your boyfriend. You were still very much in love with Miguel, and seeing him tonight with someone else only made that abundantly clear.

“Mi amor…” His voice was both a balm, and salt in the wound. The sound of it had you whirling around to face him, and before you could stop yourself you had stalked over to him and laid a hard slap against his cheek.

“Who is she?” You demanded, ignoring the hard flash of his eyes when he refocused on you. “Who is that woman out there? Does she know about me? Does she know that you were lying to me just yesterday about still loving me?” You pushed at his chest, anger, shame, and hurt all mixing into one confusing emotion as you lashed out. God you felt so stupid, and suddenly the necklace that hung daintily around your neck felt heavy as an anchor. Miguel caught your hands in an iron grip, quickly backing you up against the restroom's sink, and with his other hand he grabbed you by the chin.

“Calm the fuck down.” His tone was darker than you’d ever heard it, and laced with something else that you could clearly identify as lust. It had you swallowing thickly, and suddenly remembering yourself. “That woman is a business associate that I’m trying to impress. Nothing more, nothing less.” The explanation was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the outburst, and unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Look at me.” The command was followed almost instantly, and you couldn’t help but squirm under the intensity of Miguel’s stare. “I meant everything I said.” He continued, leaning in close enough to tease you with the closeness of his mouth to yours.

“I—”

“No. You don’t get to speak unless you’re begging me to remind you who all this,” He emphasizes the word by letting go of your hands to instead grab a handful of your ass. “belongs to.” Clearly you weren’t the only one feeling the jealousy of seeing the one you loved with someone else. Heat swirled in the pit of your belly, and the all too familiar ache that only Miguel could sate settled in. Heart hammering in your chest you let out a shuddering breath and nodded to which Miguel only jerked you forward the smallest bit. “Use your words, mi amor.”

“Please.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to spur him into action. Your dress was pushed up over your hips and in a quick move Miguel had you spun around and facing the mirror. All you could do was brace your hands against the restroom's sink as the sound of a zipper coming down filled your ears. Eyes closed you swallowed a moan when you felt your panties being pulled to the side before his length was dragging against your damp folds. You ground back against him, only for him to catch you by the hips and force your movements to still. Slowly he teased you, spreading your slick arousal over his length until you were whimpering and begging him to fuck you.

Finally he had mercy on you and began to press his way inside your tight entrance. You bit down on your bottom lip, quieting the moan that desperately wanted to make its way out of you. He sank into you slowly, taking his time in getting reacquainted with the feel of you wrapped around him and sucking him in deeper. You pushed back, already greedy for more of him after denying yourself for so long. Breath rushed from you at the first snap of his hips, and you barely had time to try and catch it before another hard thrust of his cock jolts your hips forward only for you to sink back onto him with a shaky moan that’s almost too loud for your current setting.

“Not so loud, preciosa. We wouldn’t want everyone to hear you getting fucked like a slut.” Miguel’s taunting had you clenching around him, and when you felt his hand snaking up your side and wrapping around your throat to squeeze you couldn’t help but moan again. Eyes locked on the reflection of the two of you, you felt as if you couldn’t look away from Miguel as he finally claimed what he had been missing for all those months. He wasn’t gentle as he rutted into you, making you take every thick inch while his hand squeezed around your throat just enough to keep your air restricted.

“Fuck, that’s it…that’s my good girl.” He ground out between his teeth, hips snapping forward hard enough that you were sure anyone on the other side of the door could hear if they were close enough. Not that you expected anyone to interrupt or try to get past whoever was likely guarding the door. Knowing that someone outside possibly knew what was happening inside the restroom only excited you further, and any thought of your boyfriend being the one to hear the two of you was far from your mind. The only man that existed in the moment was the one currently pounding into you from behind. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” He said, and you could only nod with a desperate moan when you felt him thrusting into you harder.

His unrelenting pace had you nearing the edge quicker than you realized, and when you felt his other hand sliding between your thighs so that his fingers could circle against your bundle of nerves you were teetering on the edge. Eyes falling shut you tried to chase your high, but Miguel had other plans. “Open your fucking eyes, watch yourself cum on this cock.” The growled words had your eyes snapping open to view the lewd scene before he had you cumming with a strained cry. Walls pulsing and clenching down around his cock, Miguel was no match for the way your body milked him for his spend. Spilling every drop as deeply as he could inside of you with a strained curse on his lips. The hand at your throat loosened and you sucked in air, panting and legs shaky when you tried to stand yourself up properly. Miguel steaded you before he silently fixed your clothes back in place and turned you back around to face him.

“You’re going to go out there with me dripping out of you and break up with him.”

Suddenly you remembered who you were there at the restaurant with and guilt began to settle in and sour the post-coital bliss.

“No more excuses, now it’s your turn to show me you’re serious. I’m done sharing my woman with some undeserving bastard.” Reaching up to take you by the chin he directed your gaze to his. “Either you end it with him, or I’ll do it myself.” The ultimatum was followed by a searing kiss that left you stunned for a moment. “Your choice, mi amor, but one way or another you’re coming home tonight.”

Miguel left you then, exiting the restroom and leaving you to grapple with what you’d just done, and what he expected from you now. Taking in a deep breath you knew you had only one option, so you made the awkward trip back to your table. Sitting back down you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of arousal and guilt as Miguel’s spend continued to drip from your core while you sat there preparing to break up with your boyfriend.

“I don’t love you, and I don’t think I ever will and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that but it’s over.” You rushed your way through the words but you could tell that your now ex boyfriend had understood each and every one. He sat in silence for a moment, jaw working as he did his best to keep his emotions in check. You simply sat in silence, watching him as he stood up abruptly, threw a few bills on the table to cover the dinner, and with a glace over his shoulder glared at Miguel who was now alone and watching it all play out. Part of you suspected he might have said or done something in the time it took you to get yourself together before returning but you didn’t care to ask.

Soon enough you were left at the table by yourself, and moments later joined by Miguel who stood by your chair with his hand outstretched. Silently you slipped your hand into his and let him guide you up from your chair and towards the entrance.

#miguel galindo x black!reader #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x woc!reader #black!reader #angst #miguel galindo x you

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pascalispretty · 9 months ago

Text

hold me down

Miguel Galindo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: somnophilia, implied consent (they've done this before), fingering, prone bone, daddy kink (sue me), reader has a bit of a praise kink, D/s vibes, AU where Emily doesn't exist

Summary: You only moved in a few days ago, but Miguel is already reaping the benefits. (ao3)

A/N: whew, it's been a minute since I wrote for Miguel. That stupid final season totally zapped my desire to write for him for a good while. You can thank @misscharlielulu for sending me the gif that started this whole idea, and @loveletter444-kb for being such a supportive gem. Title is from 'hold me down' by Halsey. Tumblr ruined my gif banner, so alas it's only still images. There is a version of this story that involves anal if anybody wants it 🫣

Miguel still isn’t used to coming home and finding you in his bed.

You’ve only been living with him for a little over a week. When he comes home a little after one in the morning, he’s preoccupied. The contract for the latest land deal is on his mind, all of the tiny details that have to be tended to and carefully managed. He’s somewhere in the middle of planning the ecological survey when he steps into his bedroom and is momentarily surprised by the sight of you asleep in his bed.

Your bed too now, he supposes. He’s given you permission to change what you like in your new home, but you haven’t made any decisions yet beyond asking for a bigger closet. He wants you to feel at home here, wants to satisfy every whim you might have. Making room for a few more racks of dresses feels like a small price to pay for your contentment.

Miguel shoves the thought away from his mind, focusing his attention on you as he gets ready for bed.

You’ve rolled over onto his side of the bed in your sleep. Your face is pressed against his pillow, he notices smugly. Even in your sleep, you can’t get close enough to him. You look so peaceful, not a care showing on your pretty face as you nestle into his pillow. The bedsheets are a mess around your legs, your body not quite acclimated to the desert heat of Santo Padre yet.

Miguel strips off his three-piece suit methodically, his eyes on the rise and fall of your chest as he undresses. His clothes go into the hamper, leaving him naked. He can’t be bothered to find a pair of pyjama pants; he’d much rather feel you pressed against him.

He walks around to his side of the bed to plug his phone in, footsteps silent on the rug. You don’t stir, even as he gets closer, even when he’s standing right beside you.

It’s when he’s stood right beside you that he sees why the sheets are in such a tangle.

You’ve managed to kick them part of the way off you, but they still cling around your calves. It leaves your ass and thighs sticking out from under the covers. You couldn’t have posed for it better if you’d tried. The silky slip you wore to bed is rucked up around your hips, showing off the lacy panties you’re still wearing. He wonders if you got dressed up for him before falling asleep.

For a long moment, Miguel just looks. He’s enjoyed having you living with him for the past ten days, but it feels like the full potential is finally occurring to him.

He can enjoy you like this whenever he wants.

Nobody has to jet halfway across the country, or traipse up to a hotel room. You’re right here, exactly where he wants you. It’s the perfect remedy to such a long day.

He can only keep his hands to himself for so long. When the two of you were coping with hotel visits and brief stays, you’d often maximise the time together by waking the other up for sex. He’s lost count of the amount of times you’ve woken him up with your mouth around his cock; he’s equally beyond numbering the times he’s woken you with his fingers or his tongue (and once, so memorably, a slap).

Carefully, so you don’t stir, he sits on the end of the bed. He reaches out carefully, brushing the back of his hand so gently against the curve of your ass that he barely feels you. It does make you shift, almost imperceptibly. He does it again, your skin so warm under his fingers that he sighs.

Miguel loves you like this; soft, sleepy, malleable.

Turning his hand over, he lets his fingertips wander over your supple flesh. You make a soft, contented noise that’s half-muffled by the pillow. It makes his cock twitch, makes him hungrier for more. His fingers sweep upward, coming to rest at the juncture of your thighs.

He can’t feel you properly through the lace covering your cunt. For a moment, he lets his fingertips rest against the outline of your slit. One of your legs moves, and he waits to see if this will wake you. Instead, you just seem to be shifting, getting more comfortable. Satisfied that you’re still asleep, he lets his fingertips press a little more firmly, his index finger tracing lightly over your clit.

Miguel swallows thickly, uncomfortably aware of how hard he’s getting. With his free hand, he reaches down to adjust himself. He’s not surprised to find that he’s already half-hard. If anything, he’s surprised he’s not so stiff it hurts; not when he has you tucked up in his bed, waiting to be played with.

He moves slowly, carefully tracing and teasing at the outline of your cunt over your underwear. More soft sounds start to escape you, little hitches in your breath and quiet whimpers. Every noise goes straight to his cock. Other men wind down with alcohol; he has you to get drunk on.

It doesn’t take long before he can feel your slick starting to soak into the lace of your panties. It starts as a tiny wet spot right over your entrance and it takes all his willpower not to yank your underwear down and bury his tongue in you. Instead, he keeps playing with you, tracing firmer circles over your clit until the lace is thoroughly ruined.

Carefully, he hooks a finger around the crotch of your underwear and pulls them to one side. It gives him the barest peek at your pretty cunt. It’s enough to make his mouth water on instinct. You squirm in your sleep, and he wonders if you can feel the cooler air of the room hit your soaking folds. He lets his fingertip touch your bare flesh, shivers licking down his spine as he feels just how wet you are.

Part of him is curious about what will finally wake you up. It’s that part of him that makes him tease your entrance with his fingertip, coating his skin in your slick. You give a shuddering gasp as he slides his finger inside of you, but you still don’t wake. He moves slowly, deliberately avoiding the spot on your walls that makes you quiver when he hits it. You’re more restless with his finger inside of you, squirming at the intrusion and curling your hand in the sheets. Your hips buck a little, the sight of you trying to fuck yourself back onto his finger in your sleep making him feel like a man bewitched.

Miguel knows he’s tempting fate when he adds the second finger. He thrusts slow and deep once, twice, knuckle deep inside you when he finally hears it.

“…Miguel?”

****

It feels like you’re dreaming at first. A blissful wet dream that makes your toes curl. You’re not sure what exactly wakes you, only that you eventually become aware of two long, thick fingers carefully working inside of you.

“…Miguel?” You ask, your voice thick with sleep. It’s disorienting, waking up so agonisingly close to coming.

“Hi, baby.” His fingers don’t stop moving. If anything, he lets his fingers curl a little now he knows you’ve awoken, pressing against that spongy spot inside you. Your brain feels foggy with sleep still, miles behind your body as you abruptly crash into the pleasure of his touch.

“Daddy’s home,” whispers something deep and primal in your mind.

“Oh God, Miguel- ‘s so good,” you manage as he moves his fingers a little faster inside you, sending more heat lancing through your veins. You have no idea how long Miguel has been playing with you for, and that somehow makes it even hotter. Every thrust of his fingers makes you moan, your back arching into his touch.

“Need you to be a good girl and come for me,” he murmurs, his voice low with arousal. You do as you’re told, rocking yourself back on his fingers. It doesn’t take you long at all to tip over the edge into a blinding orgasm, one that hits you like lightning and leaves you clutching the pillow so hard your knuckles go white. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps as Miguel works you through your climax, dragging it out until your legs quiver.

The loss of his fingers leaves you feeling devastatingly empty, and you whine at the feeling.

“Ya lo sé, baby.” His fingers find the waistband of your underwear, tugging them impatiently down your legs and discarding them somewhere in the room. Once they’re off, he moves you towards the middle of the bed, leaving him enough room to climb in beside you.

“Miguel-” you start, trying to turn to face him. He doesn’t let you. One of his large hands curls around your shoulder, pressing you forwards.

“You sound tired, amor,” he says, even as he rolls you onto your stomach. “Do you want me to stop?” His weight settles over you, pinning you down against the mattress. The press of his warm, broad body over yours pulls at that tension in your core, threatening to start building again.

“No! ‘m not too tired.” It’s a lie; you’re exhausted. But your need for him overrides all practicality. “Please, daddy.” If he doesn’t fuck you now, you think you might actually cry yourself back to sleep.

Miguel’s mouth finds your ear, nipping carefully at the lobe. He’s hard against the curve of your backside, and the two of you groan together as his cock presses against your slick folds.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck. He gives an idle thrust of his hips, the head of his cock brushing against your clit and making you cry out under him. “Perfect, pretty girl,” he continues, one of his hands disappearing between your bodies as he lines himself up.

The blunt head of his cock swipes through your folds again, and you tilt your hips up for a better angle. You barely have time to enjoy the feeling of him notching his cockhead against your entrance before he sinks into your cunt, filling you so exquisitely that you think you might actually black out for a moment. The stretch of it pulls a sob out of your throat. It’s a pathetic little noise that makes him smirk smugly against your neck.

His hands find yours, his palms covering the backs of your hands and lacing your fingers with his. It’s somewhere between pinning you down and holding your hands, and it only adds to the tension coiled tightly in your core.

Miguel starts fucking you slow and deep, every measured roll of his hips making you cry out against the pillow. He lets go of one of your hands just long enough to push your hair out of the way of your neck. His beard prickles the delicate skin as his mouth nips and sucks at your throat. You can feel him everywhere, on every inch of you.

The lines between you begin to blur in your mind, until you’re hard pressed to say where exactly you end and he begins, and it’s still not enough. In this position, he can hit so deeply that you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against the very end of you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans mixing together, and the slap of skin. Miguel’s breath is ragged against your ear, and when he licks a line up the column of your neck, actual tears well in your eyes.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you gasp into the pillow. “You always make me feel so good.” Miguel only groans in response, and you can’t help but feel gratified that, for all his words before, he rarely manages to keep talking once he’s inside of you. It makes you feel powerful. Even when he has you pinned like this beneath his body and the bed, even when he’s woken you up to use you, you have the power to leave him speechless.

It’s utterly intoxicating.

Miguel loses his patience before long. He speeds up his thrusts, hips snapping roughly against you. All you can do is make choked little ‘ah’ sounds, half-muffled by the pillows. You cling to Miguel’s hands as you tip over the edge of another devastating climax, your whole body shuddering in what little space you have beneath him. Tears squeeze out from beneath your lashes as you screw your eyes shut, your body feeling too small to contain the heat tearing through you. It must hurt, the way you’re gripping his hands, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead he fucks you harder as you clench down around him. His teeth find your neck again, pulling a feral sound out of you as he tightens his arms around you, holding you closer, surrounding you utterly. His hips grind against you as he comes, pressing himself flush against your body as though he can somehow force himself deeper.

Miguel stays there, his breath ragged in your ear as he starts to come down. His fingers slip from yours and it makes your hands ache as the blood flows back into your fingertips. Slowly, reluctantly, he moves off you. You can’t help the hitch in your breath as his cock, still half-hard, slips out of you. Slick drips between your legs, a mix of his come and yours. Some perverse part of you likes it, gets a thrill out of him making a mess of you. Tired as you are, you don’t bother to clean yourself up.

Instead, you let Miguel pull you into his arms and nestle your head against his shoulder. You move blindly, your eyes still closed.

“You must be so tired, baby. You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice back now he’s no longer inside you. You nod into his shoulder; the adrenaline high of your orgasm quickly gave way to such a drop that it’s a wonder you didn’t fall asleep while he was still fucking you. Miguel wraps an arm around you, his hand resting at the curve of your backside as you get comfortable.

“One last thing,” he says softly, squeezing your ass. “You’re not allowed to wear underwear to bed unless you have a very good excuse.”

“Sorry, daddy,” you mumble into his chest. Your eyelids are too heavy for you to open them again for more than a second. All you see is the briefest glimpse of his chest before they close, and you can’t reopen them. You can only yawn and nuzzle against his warm skin, enjoying the way his thumb is stroking your skin.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you won’t do it again.”

****

You wake up to an empty bed. It’s a little disorienting; the lack of Miguel makes you wonder if the night before hadn’t been a particularly vivid dream. You stretch out, something cracking in your spine as you starfish out on the huge bed. It’s been days since you moved in, but you’re still not used to having quite so much space in bed.

You’re too hungry to linger long.

Instead, you slip out from the tangle of sheets and throw on a pretty, light robe. It was a gift from Miguel, like most of the lingerie and nightwear you currently own, and you can’t help admiring yourself in the mirror for a moment. The colour brings out your eyes; he has such lovely taste.

The house is quiet as you make your way towards the kitchen. There’s faint music coming from somewhere, deep within the house, but you can’t quite pinpoint it. You don’t know everyone’s schedules well enough to know if it’s the maid listening to the radio as she cleans, or the gardener working outside. You’re not even sure if Miguel is home or not. It’s a strange feeling, to feel so detached from what’s happening inside your own home.

You’re so convinced you’re alone that you jump when you see Miguel. He’s sitting at the head of the dining table, a mug of fresh coffee in hand and a leather portfolio spread out in front of him. You’re still not used to seeing him in such a domestic setting; from the bare feet to the robe thrown over his black vest and pyjama pants, it feels a little like seeing a teacher outside of school.

“Good morning, mi amor,” he says with a smile when he notices you. He holds a hand out for you, and you take it eagerly, letting him pull you onto his lap.

“Morning, sweetheart. I didn’t sleep in too late, did I?” You ask, making yourself comfortable on his thighs. Miguel wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as you settle, and kisses your temple.

“No, I’ve not been up long myself. And I thought you could do with the rest after the very warm welcome you gave me last night.”

“Oh. Not a dream then.” You can’t help the flush that spreads across your skin, making your cheeks burn. It’s no different in practice than what you and Miguel would play at in hotel rooms, or on your fleeting visits to Santo Padre, but it feels different now. It’s not out of a desire to maximise his time with you; it was simply because he came home needing you. Your insides twist pleasurably, and you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Not a dream,” he confirms, his lovely dark eyes boring into you. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. It’s soft, but with an unmistakable demanding edge that makes you squirm.

“Do you know what I realised last night?” He asks, catching your chin gently between his forefinger and thumb and forcing you to look up and meet his eyes. “That my days at work are going to feel a lot less tedious now I know I’ll be coming home to you.” He lets go of your chin and leans closer, his lips brushing the delicate shell of your ear.

“That’s romantic,” you manage with remarkable composure as his lips ghost over the bite-mark he left last night. Your hands grip a little tighter to his shoulders.

“Mm. Coming home to you waiting in my bed. Ready for me to use.” A little less romantic, you suppose, but any comeback vanishes from your head when he traces the line of your throat with the tip of his tongue.

“God, always. Whenever you want.” You mean it too, insane as it might sound to an outsider. Miguel gives you everything you might ever want, makes you feel adored and cherished and desired in a way no other man has even come close to. Why wouldn’t you want to give him the same?

“I always want you.”

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @burningtacozombie @ben-c-group-therapy @90sisthenew80s @beccabarba @christinabae @pear-1206

#miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo #miguel galindo fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction

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saturnville · 11 months ago

Text

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.

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.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #miguel galindo x black reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo x reader #mayans mc #fx mayans mc #angel reyes #ez reyes

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imagineredwood · 1 year ago

Text

"Enjoying the fruit?"

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel Galindo x female reader

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: Triggering content possibly; read with caution. Dark Miguel, could be seen as kidnapping if you squint, more like false imprisonment really.

A/N: This idea came from booktok and also prompts from this prompt list

You hummed as you swallowed the sweet fruit, your finger coming up to wipe away the dribble of juice that ran down your chin. The fruit Miguel got you was always sweet. The sweetest actually. He made sure of it. All of your food was always tried and tested before it made it to your plate to ensure you only ever got the absolute best of the best. Miguel was just like that when it came to you. With most things actually.

You always had the sweetest fruit, the freshest veggies, the purest juices, the prettiest dresses.

Miguel loved you in dresses.

He loved the way the style of the dress could change your energy. How the soft flowly dresses made you want to sit by the window and bask in the sunlight, maybe open the sliding door to feel the wind blow the fabric against your skin.

How tighter dresses that were so short you could barely sit in them made you sometimes blush and rub your thighs together. Sometimes they were just nightgowns, plain but soft and cozy, making you feel ethereal and docile.

You only ever wore dresses for that reason. Because that's what Miguel liked; so that's what he bought you. That's what your wardrobe consisted of.

Your dress today was lilac, soft, and light against your skin. It was warm and ran a little past your knees, leaving your feet and ankles exposed. You shook your foot, the chain jingling against the shackle and frowned at the noise.

Sometimes you forgot about it. It wasn't too heavy, light enough for you to be able to move around the house, but heavy enough that you had felt like a boulder was tied to you when he had first put it on. Now with the months that had passed, you were used to the feeling, sometimes the sight being what reminded you when the hem of your dress was shorter.

That and when you forgot and tried to venture out of the room. He allowed you a good bit of freedom. He let you go wherever in the house you wanted really; you just had to be secured. Metal hooks were bolted into random hidden areas of the house. You were currently stuck to the one fastened to the underside of the granite coffee table.

It hadn't always been like this. Once upon a time, you had been able to walk around the entire house on your own, from room to room, inside to outside, then back again. You had been his little perfect girl, always on his arm to events or dinners. It had been going so well.

That was until you had tried to leave him.

It had been a small fight. Simple really.

He had canceled on you and your pre-planned dinner date plans to have a business meeting for the third time that month and you had been angry. So you grabbed your purse and keys and left.

You hadn't actually been leaving the relationship. You were simply taking a break. A night to yourself to drive around and blow off some steam. You hadn't told him that though and when three in the morning had rolled around with no sight of you, his guards patrolling the streets for hours looking for you with no such luck, he had been sure that you were leaving him for good. Gone like a thief in the night. No call, no text, no note. Just gone.

And boy had it made him angry.

After all he had done for you? The gifts? The wine? The vacations? The love? The adoration? The worship?

Oh, angry was an understatement, and the disarray in the living room had been a testament to that. Flipped tables and scattered shards of glass.

You had returned early the next morning, of course, never having planned to truly leave. All you had needed was some time to cry and cool down. You had gotten that and now had calmed down considerably, ready to return to your husband and home.

And that was how you had ended up with the shackle.

Placed onto your ankle while you slept.

Your departure had been the straw that broke the camel's back and Miguel had become unhinged then, and swore he would never let you leave and put yourself into harm's way again. Only he could truly love and protect you. No one else. And he had to make you see that.

The sound of his voice from behind you broke you out of your reverie and you turned to face him.

His eyes were warm and full of love as he looked at you, crossing the way over until he stood in front of you. He smiled down at you, his eyes trailing to your mouth where the juice from the dragon fruit had stained a bit. He reached up and rubbed at your chin lightly, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Enjoying the fruit?"

You nodded and offered a smile of your own, but it didn't quite reach your eyes and Miguel noticed immediately.

"What's the matter?"

You hesitated and then shrugged as if to make it seem like it weren't a big deal. Looking down, you shook your foot, the chain jingling loudly in the silence of the room.

Miguel looked down and sighed before reaching up to cradle your cheek in his hand.

"It's for your own good, mi amor. You ran away. You could've gotten taken. Hurt. Killed. Or worse. There are plenty of men out there who are evil and would love nothing more than you pick you up and steal you away from me. I can't let that happen, you know that. I'll let you go when you understand this is where you belong."

You nodded, easing into his touch. You'd asked before a handful of times and had gotten the same schpeal. It had been months now though. Surely you had earned his trust back by now?

"I just hate this thing. I don't need it anymore. I'm yours, I know that. I always knew that. I just...I want to walk around free again."

Turning back slightly to look out of the sliding doors longingly.

"I miss swimming."

Miguel sighed at your longing look and tone before nodding gently. He softly took your chin into his grasp, turning you to face him again. His touch was gentle, but the gravel in his voice as he leaned his forehead against yours was anything but.

"I'll take it off. But remember, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I'll catch you."

You nodded, knowing all of his words were true. You offered him a smile and just like that, his voice was silk again as he reached into his suit jacket and retrieved the little key. Sitting down, he patted his knee and you lifted your leg, placing your bare foot down onto his slacks. He slid the key in and looked up at you before turning it.

"This is your last chance."

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @iambabyharry @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @saturnsaree @multiyfandomgirl40 @destynelseclipsa @sadeyesgf @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @all-the-boys-to-the-yard @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester @alexxavicry @kaykaysuh @savagemickey03 @fanfic-n-tabulous @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name @cind-in-real-life @blessedboo @montanaraed @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @myakai13

@cruzwalters @yosoynicolexo @mrsstevenbuchananstark @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty @lyly00 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @kaykaysuh @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous @90sisthenew80s @lovelytricia

Miguel taglist

@omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @maciiiofficial @jatriciaaa @black-repunzel99 @ben-c-group-therapy @witchygagirl @xonickibaby @berniesilvas @myakai13 @fanfictiontrash9 @kaykaysuh @angel-121 @90sisthenew80s

#mayans mc #imagines #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #tw imprisonment #miguel galindo imagine #yandere!miguel

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mrsamaroevans · 1 year ago

Text

I Got You

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader.

Request: No.

Words: 770.

Warnings: Murder. So… I needed to write this ‘cause the other day I needed to see gifs of Miguel on season 5 ‘cause he looks gorgeous (fight me) and I still have two episodes left from the show so… I got spoilered (idk if that’s actually a word lol). I needed to give him a different ending so… probably there are spoilers in this? I don’t know… just, read carefully if you haven’ finished the show yet. (I’m very offended, tbh).

A/N: Gif not mine!

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

“Put the gun down”

Your husband's eyes locked with yours. He had a face you couldn’t quite decipher; as if he was surprised but glad that you were there, but at the same time, fear crossed his gaze. The metal in your hands felt cold and wrong. It wasn’t the first time you held a gun, but it was the first time you were attempting to use it to hurt someone.

“(Y/n)…” His voice. That familiar voice. The voice that used to calm you down whenever you were about to cry. The voice from whom you heard the best bits of advice. The same voice that you thought you were gonna hear forever.

‘Cause he was supposed to be your family. He was supposed to be there for you, he was supposed to protect you and never hurt you.

But he was there… with a gun in hand aiming at your husband. But it was like he was aiming at you.

“Ezekiel… put the gun down,” you said again. Your voice almost trembled and that only made you angrier. Ez was in your house about to kill your husband and he looked relaxed. He seemed so calm even though he was there to hurt you. He didn’t seem nervous, or afraid “Put the gun fucking down!”

The gun touched the back of his head when you took a step closer to him. Ez put his hand down. His gun now facing the floor as he slowly started turning to you.

“What are you doing?” Ez asked you once he was facing you.

“I’m doing what you should have done when Angel asked you to stop this bullshit. I’m protecting my family” you told him, stepping back without lowering your hands “Drop it”

Ez didn’t do it “I’m your family”

“No” you shook your head “Miguel is my family. My son is my family… you’re not, at least not anymore”

“So… this is how it ends?” Ez asked after a few seconds of silence. He was there. The same tanned skin, the same eyes, the same Ez. But not really. It was like, physically Ezekiel Reyes was standing in the living room of your house, but if you looked deeply into his eyes… the one standing in front of you was a stranger.

“You tell me” It was unbelievable. All of it. One day you two were playing in the Reyes’ backyard and now you’re both with the chance of ending each other’s lives in your hands “Drop the gun, Ez”

“I feel like I don’t know you”

“You do” You looked at Miguel who seemed alerted and then looked at the gun Ez was holding. His hold became firmer and you knew in that moment he wasn’t going to back down “I always lived to serve my family, you know that”

“I don’t know you”

“It’s me the one that should be saying that” Your eyes filled with tears. It was him or you, there was no point in thinking there was another ending “Drop the gun” your voice came out as a whisper.

“I never stopped seeing you as my sister, you know?”

Your hold weakened and he took that moment to aim at you. Everything happened pretty fast; his arm going up, your finger in the trigger, your body jerking back with the recoil of your gun. When you realized what had happened, Ez’s body was on the floor, a big red mark around him.

You killed your best friend.

“Hey” You heard Miguel’s voice but you couldn’t look away from what you had done, so he took your chin and made you look at him.

“He was going to kill you” was the first thing you said. You felt tears in your cheeks not knowing when you started weeping “He was going to get kill everyone in the club, he was going to kill me…”

“I wouldn’t let that happen” he assured you “We’re you and I against it all, remember?”

You couldn’t nod ‘cause your crying didn’t let you. Your body started to shake as Miguel held you close. You buried your face on his chest, the blood on your face marked his shirt but he just held you tighter, as he could take all your pain to his own body.

“I want you to talk to me” Miguel whispered later that night. Your head on his chest, you could feel your hair a little wet still from the shower “Whenever you want or need to, okay?” His lips touched your head and that made you tear up again “’Cause I got you”

“I got you, too”

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

#mayans mc #miguel galindo #sons of anarchy #mayans mc x reader #miguel galindo x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans fx #mayans mc fanfiction #miguel galindo imagine

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berberriescorner · 1 year ago

Text

“Are You Listening?”

Interlude: “Drinks On Me, Yeah?”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Issa Interlude, mama. Expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, and drinking-little libation for the one, two.

Word Count: 1,700+.

A/N: My lovelies! My babies! Mama’s back and I got a little sum-sum for ya! Let’s start this weekend with a little Rio and the crew, yeah? Yeah. I want to give so many thanks to all of you sweet lovelies who have been rocking with me this entire time. Most of you know that the past year and a half has been quite the struggle. To everybody who took time out of your day to come and check in on me, please know that I’m appreciative and forever grateful to have connected with such amazing people🥹♥️. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks as well💓. I’m a little rusty, so be gentle with your girl. Enjoy my sweet babies. Before anyone asks, yes, I’ve been working on Pt. 4😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Part Three Here.

Inspired By:

Your body pressed down into the plush mattress as you reveled in the comfort and security of being home. Your mind replayed the image of your mom snatching the door open, the two of you hugging tightly, rocking side to side. You had spent the past week trying to survive final exams and warding off the many questions of, “What’s wrong, baby girl?” The woman who gave you life knew you all too well. Sensing that her youngest baby was struggling, her attempts to get you to open up over the phone went unanswered. With the semester complete, being home didn’t leave much space to dodge the knowing gaze in her eyes.

That master’s degree will probably be a waste of time.

The moment you pulled away from the hug, she cupped your chin, and your poker face cracked as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. Two hours later, you filled her in on everything from the stress of school, financial aid, working doubles, and the fresh crack in your heart that was taking its sweet-ass time to heal. All of which had only taken about forty minutes to stutter out. The talk and her comfort had left you wiped out, and just like any amazing mother would do, she sent you to your room for a nap and got to work on preparing comfort food.

You considered dozing off for a bit more rest, but your bedroom door flew open, bouncing off the corner of your vanity. Your eyes narrowed to mere slits as you started to curse your oldest brother out. His hand raising halted the verbal reprimand.

“Alena’s big-headed ass is here to see ya mean ass,” he snarked about the woman who would eventually become his wife.

These two bitches are so in love. It’s sickening. The attraction is so annoyingly obvious. Shit makes me sick to my stomach.

Before you could tell him you didn’t want company, she was already in the doorframe. “Uh-uh, bitch you are not about to dodge me for another two weeks.” With those words said, you had no choice but to give her a rundown of what had transpired. Not only had she forced you to divulge every last detail while the two of you hugged and cried together. She also took it upon herself to wiggle you into your best freakum dress and head out for a girl’s night.

Being the baby and the only girl in your family made for very over-the-top protective parents. The moment your father saw your attire, he wouldn’t let up. He was hell-bent on forcing your brothers to chaperone.

It wasn’t a horrible idea. Only you didn’t like your independence challenged. Luckily, the older siblings were pretty chill, so long as no one was overly aggressive. They had taught you how to handle shit for yourself at a young age. You spent the first half hour in the club pouting and ready to go home to wallow in self-misery.

“Hoe! If you don’t fix your face, scaring off every good-looking man in this club!”

“They’ll be alright, so long as they keep their distance. In case you didn’t get the memo after our long talk. Men make my ass itch,” you growled, kissing your teeth.

“Whateva, you and that stank attitude can have a good time together,” she sassed, throwing up a hand and walking away from the bar.”

“Where are you going? Alena!”

“I’ll be back, damn! Let me go on and annoy them, fine-ass brothers of yours. Be nice, and don’t bite nobody head off, sourpuss.”

“Always thirsting after my blood, just triflin’.”

With the flick of a middle finger, she sauntered over to their section. You could see the irritation rolling off them as she seated herself in the middle. The arguing started seconds later. Your eye twitched at the sight. Swinging the barstool back toward the liquor, you were about to pass the time scrolling through social media. Instead, a set of bronzed-colored, muscular digits came into view. They gently pressed your phone to the bar as the matching digits slid another lemon drop into view. Your eyes danced along those muscular fingers, trailing upward until they landed on one of the sexiest faces you’d ever witnessed. If any other man would’ve done this, he would’ve been set straight expeditiously. In this instance, ole boy was just too damn fine, and it left you on mute. The corners of his mouth lifted into a handsome smirk.

The stranger turned his barstool to get closer. One hand rested on the bar while the other cradled the back of your seat. His eyes roamed over your body, lip tucking between his teeth, matching you stare for stare. He chuckled when he noticed your quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to intrude on ya evening, but I figured you could use another drink.”

“Is that so?”

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. I’m tryin’ to figure out why these men got your fine ass itching out here.”

Shit, he heard that? Floor, open up and swallow me. That’s so damn embarrassing.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mama. There’s a lot of boys running around here pretending to be men. Who was crazy enough to fumble you? He gotta be the dumbest man on earth.”

As if on cue, said fumbler’s name popped up on your caller ID. With a swipe of a finger, the phone went silent. You turned back to your new admirer. He had signaled for another round of drinks.

“Either you’re a big spender, or the bartender is your connect,” you teased.

“Connect is one way of putting it. This my spot, darlin’.”

He chuckled as you damn near choked on your drink.

“I’m sorry. Tend to put my foot in my mouth.”

“You good. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind. Dealing with me, you go to say it with your chest.”

“Oh, so you plan to be around me beyond tonight?”

“Around, underneath, on top. We locked in, mama,” he insisted, licking his lips.

“I don’t even know your name, fool,” you cackled at his cockiness.

“Name’s Rio, but you can call me Christopher, mama. My future wife needs to know my government name. I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t be tellin’ my business, sweetheart.”

“Who says I’m checking for you, Rio?”

“You accepted my company and drinks. Deep down, you’re intrigued by me. Ain’t no need to hide it. When I see something I want, gotta go after it, mama.” he rasped, voice lowering to a panty-dropping level.

“You’re trouble. I just know it.”

Rio planted both hands on your thighs. The gasp that escaped you lit his brown orbs with passion.

“Can I have your undivided attention for the night? Want to get to know you better, mama.”

Grabbing his outstretched hand, he helped you down off the stool.

“Rio…”

Piercing light flickered in the darkness, pulling you from the memory that played itself in your dreams. Your hand snatched the vibrating phone from the table. Your orbs squinted to read the screen, teeth clenching in frustration.

Fucking Rio, I can’t even get away from him in my sleep. Stupid-handsome-asshole.

With a single tap, the phone rested on DND. You closed off from the world to find a peaceful slumber, only to wake from another dream. Throwing the covers back, you startled, feeling the bed dip. His cologne wafted through the air, and your eyes connected.

“Why all the tossing and turning, amor? Hmm,” he rasped, hand trailing up your arm. His warm palm cradled the side of your neck, rubbing away some of the tension.

“Sorry, did my restlessness wake you?”

“No, querida. I’ve been up taking care of some things.”

“Same old Miguel. Everything business. Still don’t sleep much, huh?”

His eyes crinkled with a small smile, but you could also see sadness. It’s the same unhappiness that’s always lingered, only now accompanied by sparks of anger and resentment. Your mind replayed his words in the elevator.

Where’s your wife, Miguel?

She had other plans tonight.

The slightest mention of her had nearly sent his mood spiraling. You weren’t privy to what was happening in his marriage but didn’t want to pry. He would only reverse card uno your ass. Miguel would insist that you vent about your own life and frustrations.

“Thank you for taking the couch,” you nibbled at your lip.

There was a hint of frustration and guilt lingering in your chest. Not being able to sleep without dreaming of Rio left you feeling conflicted. Part of you wanted to say to hell with loyalty. Being in such a vulnerable state had you craving to be held and cuddled, but regardless of circumstance, the two of you were very much married. Concern swam in the pools of his eyes. Miguel sensed the ongoing dilemma in your head, and his fingers gently cupped your chin.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s all this,” he asked, tugging the lip between your teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t,” you sighed.

“You can, and you will. Look at me,” he insisted as your eyes locked.

“Anything you ask me. It won’t leave this room. You need me to hold you until sleep takes over, amor?”

Unable to verbally say it, you gave him a slight head nod. Removing his tie, watch, and shoes, he made it over to the opposite side of the bed. Miguel got right to it, not giving you time to overthink it. He pulled you into his chest, arms engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Were you having nightmares, cariño?”

“No, just happy memories reminding me of the present painful ones,” you replied, voice filling with unshed tears.

“You want to talk about it?”

Silence filled the room as Miguel continued, “We don’t have to ta-.”

His sentence cut short as he felt the tremors and your head burrowed into his side. Miguel’s heart cracked at the sound of the sobs falling from your lips. His arms pulled you further into him until there was no space left, and the palm of his hand rubbed at your head.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’m here,” he cooed, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head.

Miguel continued to whisper calming words. You cried until your head pounded, and sleep took over.

Hope you all enjoyed that little peek into how Rio pulled up on your girl for the first time. He saw something he liked, and he had to have you🥰. We’ll just call this a vague moment of insight into upcoming events...if that makes sense 😆. If you enjoyed please be sure to hit the love button, comment, and reblog. Spread the love, my babies.

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Tags:

@darqchilddaydreamz @4everbrookemarie @astoldbychae @percosim @1andonlytashae @nightlywords7 @amorestevens @crimsonheart01 @rio-reid-whoreee @mrsmontanalol @igigix @keaboyd21 @blowmymbackout @uhlxis @abcdestinyyyy @hihellogoodbyebruh @sunshine-flower @lemmewritesomeish @catxo @naughtyslashers @realhotgurlshit @peaches007 @gardenof-venus @aizawash0e @minton131 @novaniskye @90sisthenew80s @cjricks98 @skyesthebomb @myownworstenemydw @lifeofthelovelyone @tashawar @gabbywontlose @kayla1blog @skelly-baby @adg1115 @blessedboo @fandomcitysstuff @drinaj @being-worthy @sxkxna @whore4-horror @elliesrealgf @pimpsdontcryy @batgurl42 @gotbeefbitch-blog @thedopestblackgirl @nunya7394 @midnightheat @pixieyosi @imjustheretoreads-blog

@superhoeva @memeaaaa @djconde58

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mischiefnevermanaged89-blog · 4 months ago

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Gotta Be Somebody Part 8

Angel Reyes X Reader

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I sat in the little pub on the border, waiting for Nestor. I managed to get away from the two others Adelita sent to the town with me. I told them I needed to pick up some things for the girls in the group and that sent them the other way to collect the food we needed. The pub owner worked for Miguel so he knew what I was there for; no questions asked. I was thankful for that.

I paced around the little room as I waited, hoping he’d be there soon before the others became suspicious. Finally the door opened to reveal Nestor.

“(Y/N). I brought someone with me. Said they weren’t going to take no for an answer.” Nestor stepped into the room.

“Papa.” I let out, tears instantly hitting my lashes when I seen his face. I rushed towards him and into his arms.

“Hija. Are you okay?” He asked, hand in my hair and arm wrapped around my middle, holding me to him.

I nodded. “Si. What are you doing here?” I stood back a little, my hand on his face.

“Nestor told me he was meeting with you to go over details to end this and I wanted in. We know she thinks it was us. We want to play that part. Bring her down. We want to help you after what you done for us.” Dad said as he sat down, I followed suit, sitting beside him and across from Nestor.

“It won’t be easy, dad. She’s hell bent on bringing Galindo down and everyone associated with him. All because someone in his dad’s closets ranks killed her family. She’s after him to destroy him and his family. She even tried to go after his wife and son. I was able to stop that from happening and make it look like the ones who were assigned that mission were idiots and failed and got killed. I can’t let her use an innocent child like that.”

“That was you?” Nestor asked. I nodded. “Emily said someone showed up and killed all of the men except her body guards and told them all to go and don’t look back and make sure her and the baby are watched carefully.”

“I didn’t want them knowing it was me, but I’m sure you’re going to tell him anyway. Doesn’t matter. What matters is this.” I pulled out a map and paper. “This is where she wants to have the showdown. This is where she thinks the club hangs out on this side of the fence. She wants to have someone stake it out for a few nights and see when they’ll be there and hit them unexpected. If I can get her to do it just on the other side at the warehouse, that’s where we can have the upper hand. We can have every one of Galindo’s men and all of the Mayan brothers waiting.”

I looked at dad who was smirking at me. I knew that smirk. That was his proud smirk.

“That could actually work. I can get Padrino on board to get some of the other guys to come in and help. They’d do anything to stop the bitch that’s keeping their money from flowing.”

“Good. Miguel is just waiting to know when she wants to strike.” Nestor spoke up.

“Whenever you will be ready. I can go back and tell her I seen a few Mayans heading back across the border so I followed and I seen them at a warehouse not far gathering together. She’ll want to strike in a day, two tops.”

“Alright. I’ll get all the men together. In the meantime, can you hide this on you? It’ll be better than the radio.” Nestor handed me a small phone.

“Yeah. She don’t do checks on me anymore. I can keep it in my shirt. It’s small enough to conceal.” I looked at my watch. “I got to get going. The others will be waiting for me.”

We all stood and I looked at my dad. “Don’t worry, Papa. This will all be over soon and we can be together at home again.” I pulled him in for a hug. He held me tightly back.

“I love you. And I was told to tell you by your Somebody they love you, too.” He chuckled when he seen my eyes widen. “Don’t worry, hija. I know. It’s okay.” He kissed my forehead.

“Tell them I love them.” Tears threatened to fall. He nodded as I turned to Nestor with a nod, letting him know I’d be in touch.

They walked out first. I waited a few more minutes before following. When I heard dad’s bike leave, I walked out. I saw him with Hank and Taza headed back towards the border. I pulled out the phone Adelita gave me and snapped pictures. It would back up my story of them being in town and overhearing them being on the other side at a warehouse in a few days.

Just seen a few of the bikers in town.

A:How many?

Just 3.

A:Did you hear anything?

Si. Something about they were getting the good drinks from this side for a party at a place on the other side in a few days.

A:Good. Come back. We must plan.

I put my phone away and went to find the others and headed back to the compound out in the desert. As I got out of the truck, Adelita come out of the main tent.

“Did you over hear anything else from them?”

“Just that they required the alcohol to be sent to a location at the border in a few days so they could smuggle it over to a warehouse. It was a big order so they all must be going.”

“There’s only one place they can do that. We must watch so we can strike while they are having the party. Take a few with you and watch them. See what they do; when they are coming and going. When you know they are all gathered, send for me, I’ll have everyone ready.”

I nodded. I took three of the newer recruits with me. At least they wouldn’t question me when I told them any thing to do. I had them load supplies for a few days and we left.

Once at the location, I gathered them together before they took their positions.

“Alguna actividad que me reportes, ¿entendido?”

(Any activity you report to me, got it?)

“Si Señora.”

“Bien. Ahora vete.”

(Good. Now go.)

They positioned themselves at different points on the border wall and ground. Thankfully where we were was far enough out we wouldn’t be bothered with border patrol. I made my perch and set up to watch. I pulled out the phone Nestor gave me and sent a message to him and dad.

Whenever you’re ready. I told her the Mayans made a large order for alcohol to be brought to the border wall for a party at the warehouse on the other side. She has me and three of my newer recruits stationed to watch it. All I have to do is give her word and she’s ready. I’ll be here until I have your word.

A few minutes later I got a message.

B:Padrino had a meeting with all charters. We’re all good to go, hija. We’ll be gathered there tomorrow night. Te Amo.

N:Galindo men are locked and loaded. We’ll be there tomorrow, too.

Good. As soon as everyone is gathered, send me word and I’ll send word to Adelita. Once I have word it’ll be an hour at least before we hit the warehouse. Just know, once it goes down, nobody touches her. She’s mine.

I put the phone away and just watched. I knew nothing was going to happen so I pulled out my small notebook and began to write. Soon day turned into night. One of the men brought food up to me and left again. It wasn’t long after dark they slowly one by one began to fall asleep. I had trained myself to stay awake for long hours simply because I trusted no one in Adelita’s group in the beginning.

I kept alternating between writing and keeping watch for anyone coming. Sunrise was slowly coming up, and it was beautiful. The vast nothingness of the border desert made it even more so. I had only wished I had Angel there with me. He kept me going. I knew I had to go one more day before I could see him again and could hold him.

As the day went on so did the watch. Small messages coming in from both sides checking in made it go by that much faster. Soon the time was approaching.

B:Everyone is gathered. We’re ready. Mayans are scattered about inside the warehouse.

Good. Once we’re in, she will have men sneak in every entrance. Have men ready to take them down quietly so she doesn’t suspect you know.

N:Galindo men will be stationed outside hiding away so no one can see us. We’ll take out any from the end quietly and trap them inside once you’re in.

Copy. Let’s take this bitch down.

I whistled for my men to gather. I sent Adelita a message.

It looks like they’re all there. Many bikers have shown up.

A:Good. We’ll meet you at the border in twenty. We hit them within the hour.

“Prepararse. Salimos en veinte. Prepárate para una pelea.“

(Get ready. We leave in twenty. Prepare for a fight.)

The men nodded and began packing everything into the truck. True to her word, Adelita was there within the twenty minutes. We made our way out of the makeshift gate once the sun was going down as to not be seen as easy. I knew Nestor and his men would see us coming from a mile away.

When we were less than half a mile away, Adelita stopped us.

“Cubra todas las salidas. Mátalos. Nadie vive.”(Cover every exit. Kill them. No one lives.)

She said to everyone. She gave some of the men the tasks of taking every exit. The closer we got the more I wanted to end this. I kept reminding myself this was for my family. I nodded to her that I’d take the rear while she took the front with Pablo. Once at the warehouse everyone split up.

I turned to look out into the dark. I whistled. Then all hell broke loose.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I’m sooo sorry it took so long to get this part out!! Life has been a bitch lately!!! I’m hoping to have this little gem finished soon!! Thank you for sticking with me my lovelies!! 💜

@ravennaortiz

@spnaquakindgdom

@meera10

#angel reyes #mayans imagine #angel reyes x reader #mayans mc #mayans x reader #mayans fanfic #mayans fx

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bullet-prooflove · 11 months ago

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Galindo!Series Part Two: Revelations - Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirlie @wnbweasley @skyesthebomb @msjava1972 @fleureeee @jp1019 @thiashazzywriting @fanfic-n-tabulous @ravennaortiz '@just-a-throw-away @thekirbishow

Galindo!Series

Part One: Weakness - Miguel returns to Nestor’s life.

It’s three in the morning when Miguel wakes up and finds you sitting in the chair across from his bed, your legs crossed and a gun in your hand. He notes the silencer, and he realises that this isn’t just an intimidation tactic, that his life his actually in danger.

There’s always been an unspoken truce between the two of you, your mutual love for Nestor was the only thing that kept the both of you from killing each other. However, things have changed. Nestor made a choice, and that choice was you. Miguel can’t forgive that.

“Rosa.” He greets you, shifting until his back comes to rest against the headboard. “My son is in the next room…”

“No.” You sigh. “He’s not, we both know Emily isn’t either.”

You see the flicker of comprehension in his eyes.

“It was you that helped her.” He says quietly. “Not Nestor.”

“Nestor was loyal to you for a very long time.” You tell him, tapping the silencer against your knee. “She didn’t trust him.”

“But she trusted you.” Miguel summarises as the pieces begin to fall in the place.

“Not at first. The last time we met, I was on your payroll.” You remind him. “It took Carmen a while to convince her that I couldn’t be bought but when she heard about what you did to me…”

The worst part is that it takes him a second to understand what you’re talking about because to him, handing you over to your rapist’s brother was nothing but business but to you…

It completely derailed your whole life, the PTSD, the nightmares, the fact you almost bled out in a shitty motel room outside of Reno, none of that matters to this man. You are just one person whose life he almost destroyed. There’s hundreds out there.

“You know, she told me some pretty interesting things about you.” You say, leaning back into the chair. “How controlling you became after you fired Nestor, how your brutality escalated. You got a little unhinged, a little sloppy…”

His jaw tenses, his gaze shifting the top drawer of the dresser. You sigh before holding up the gun you’ve tucked into down the side of the chair, you’re sitting in.

“I got that one.” You tell him before setting it down again. “The mess you made was why the FBI came down on you so hard, why you had to disappear off to Mexico and all that chaos… It was the perfect time for Emily and Cristobel to vanish.”

It’s in that moment that Miguel understands the full extent of what you’ve done, how you reached into his life and pulled it apart, piece by piece.

“It was you.” He realises, his voice tinged in disbelief. “You got the FBI involved?”

“It was going to happen sooner or later.” You inform him, with a knowing look. “We just needed it to happen sooner.”

“You took my business, my son, my wife…” He snaps, his fingers raking through his hair as he struggles to process the information because in Miguel’s world you’ve only ever been a tool to use, a weakness to exploit. Never in his wildest dreams did he envision you would take a stand against him; he thought that the threat of losing Nestor would be too much.

“No Miguel, you did that to yourself when you beat Emily’s sister to death in front of her.” You remind him and the look he gives you, it’s murderous. “When I dropped them a call about the location of her body, your DNA was all over it. You are fucking terrible at cleaning up your own messes. You always have been.”

“Does Nestor know?” He asks, the words come out like a hiss through his teeth. “Does he know what you’ve done to me?”

“I don’t keep secrets from Nestor.” You tell him, pointing the gun at him. Your finger tightens on the trigger. “I knew it was a matter of time before you come back for us. You could never let Nestor be happy, not when he chose me over you.”

“If you do this, he’ll never forgive you.” Miguel tells you, his eyes fixated on the barrel of the gun. “You’ll be the woman who killed the only person who’s ever given a damn about him.”

“We both know that’s not true.” You say sadly. “You’ve only cared about what Nestor could give you, not about the person he is and that’s where you fucked up Miguel, because truly, he’s wonderful.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you’ve heard enough. You pull the trigger, and he collapses back against the headboard, the back of his head thudding against the wall with the force of the impact.

You raise to your feet, before pressing two fingers to the pulse point in his throat and waiting for the thrum of blood to stop. When it does you withdraw before picking up his phone from the nightstand and using his thumb to open it. You bring up his emails before flicking into his scheduled box and studying the email residing in there, the one with your name, address and picture attached to it. The kicker? He’s included Nestor’s details too.

A suggestion, he’d written, if you wanted to inflict some emotional damage.

You delete the email before turning the phone off and slipping it into your pocket.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that you made the right decision about killing Miguel Galindo tonight.

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

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor x rosa #nestor mayans

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ginger-grimm · 2 months ago

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A WINTER NIGHT EXCHANGE

McKenna Teller & Miguel Galindo for @enchanted--roses

I hope you like it!

#ocappreciation #ocapp #a winter night exchange #sons of anarachy mayans mc oc #not my oc #my edits #oc: mckenna teller

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danny-pino-group-therapy · 1 year ago

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Nick Amaro / Miguel Galindo Fics

Fanfics involving Nick Amaro, Miguel Galindo, both, or original variations of Danny Pino characters.

A Tale of Two Brothers Pt 1 (Miguel x Reader x Nick)

A Tale of Two Brothers Pt 2 (Miguel x Reader x Nick)

Gingerbread House (Nick Amaro x Reader)

I Hate You (Nick Amaro x Reader)

The Heart of Amaro: Kindred Spirits (Nick Amaro x Reader) *Heavy Topics and Trigger Warnings*

The Call (Nick Amaro x Reader) *Heavy topics and Trigger Warnings.*

Whispers in the Rain (Nick Amaro x OC)

A Christmas Promise (Nick Amaro x OC)

Endlessly Intoxicating (Nick Amaro x Reader) Smut

#danny pino #miguel galindo #mayans mc #nick amaro #mayans fx #fanfiction #scotty valens #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #cold case #cbs cold case #fluff #smut

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justreblogginfics · 2 years ago

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This entire masterlist is gold! ✨✨✨

How each character is written is just amazing, I can’t pick a favorite because they are all so good!

Masterlist

✨All work is explicit and NSFW unless otherwise stated✨

The Cherry Stem Gentlemen’s Club🍒(Stripperverse)

Obispo “Bishop” Losa

Angel Reyes

Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes

Miguel Galindo

Johnny “Coco” Cruz

#mayans mc #bishop losa #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #bishop losa imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes imagine #ez reyes fanfic #ez reyes x you #ez reyes #coco cruz #johnny coco cruz #coco cruz x reader #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader

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pascalispretty · 2 years ago

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The Poetry of the Body: One

Miguel Galindo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Discussions of pregnancy, implied age gap, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, dirty talk, breeding kink, D/s vibes, Miguel being himself, heavy petting, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, daddy kink. AU where Emily doesn't exist.

Summary: You and Miguel discuss the possibility of expanding your family, and negotiate the details.

A/N: thanks to my beloved @misscharlielulu for all her love and support in getting this finished. Title of the fic is from 'La llama doble. Amor y erotismo' by Octavio Paz. Title of the chapter comes from the Pablo Neruda poem 'My Lovely One', which is quoted within the fic (see end of work for translation). Written to fulfil the 'breeding kink' prompt for @storiesofsvu2-0's bingo!

One: My Homeland Is In Your Eyes (ao3)

It’s late by the time you and Miguel come home. The house is quiet; the guards near-silent as they patrol the perimeter, the rest of the household fast asleep. As soon as you get through the front door you kick your heels off, wanting to preserve the peace that’s settled over the house. At the top of the stairs, where Miguel makes to turn left, you tug on his hand.

“I wanna see Cristóbal,” you whisper, aware that the wine from dinner makes you sound as tipsy as you feel.

“Don’t wake him,” he says after a moment and follows your lead down the hall, your footsteps muted by the thick carpet. Your husband’s hand is warm in yours as you carefully push open the door of your son’s room. The light from the hallway spills into the nursery, just enough to illuminate Cristóbal sleeping soundly in his bed. The tangle of his dark curls stands out starkly against his light sheets – you feel an overwhelming urge to tiptoe across the room and press a kiss to his head.

Instead, you hover in the doorway with Miguel and content yourself with blowing him a kiss. Any more would risk waking him.

“See?” Miguel whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Safe and sound.” He squeezes your hand reassuringly, and you both watch as Cristóbal nuzzles closer to his stuffed rabbit. The nursery door closes with a soft click and this time you let Miguel lead you by the hand to the other end of the house and your bedroom.

“It’s unfair, you know,” you start once your bedroom door closes behind you. Miguel half turns on his way into the en suite, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“How much he looks like you.” You boost yourself up on the bathroom counter, getting comfortable as you undo Miguel’s cufflinks for him. Miguel smiles at you, chucking you playfully under the chin once you’re done.

“You say that as though it’s a bad thing,” Miguel replies, toeing his dress shoes off. The bathroom always looks a mess after a night like tonight, clothes thrown in the vague direction of the hamper and your makeup strewn everywhere until you can be bothered to straighten everything up.

“It’s not bad,” you protest, watching intently as Miguel takes his phone out of his pocket so he can shrug his grey blazer and vest off. “It just feels very unfair that I did all the hard work, but he’s the spitting image of you.”

“Sorry, querida. You’re going to have to take that one up with God.” You roll your eyes at your husband’s teasing, hopping down from the counter.

“God’s got nothing to do with it. Certainly not where you’re concerned.” It’s a mischievous jab, one that takes you dangerously close to precarious ground. You at least have the wherewithal not to call him ‘el Diablo’ to his face. Turning around, you glance up at Miguel’s reflection in the mirror to study his reaction, pleased that he seems more amused than annoyed.

“I’m not about to let anything else take credit for my exceptionally good genes. I just hope he has his mother’s brains.”

“And his father’s humility.” You flick the tap on, and open the drawer beside it to get your pills. The alarm had gone off on your phone at dinner, prompting you to take it, but that had been hours ago. Only the topic of conversation reminded you of it.

Before you can attempt to wrest one of the tiny pills from the package, you feel one of Miguel’s arms loop tightly around your waist, his body moulding against yours. He reaches forward to turn the faucet off again.

“Don’t take it.” Miguel rests his chin on your shoulder, and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. For a long moment, you just look at him, wondering if you heard him right. This time, there’s no teasing in his expression; his lovely dark eyes are full of sincerity.

“Miguel-” you start, not even sure where to begin.

“What? We’ve talked about it. We could see if this one looks more like you.” He presses closer, his beard prickling your neck and his gaze unwavering.

“...in a vague, ‘someday’ kind of way. We should at least have an actual, sober conversation about having another baby.” You fidget idly with the pack of birth control pills still in your hand. Miguel was right; you had talked about it, on-and-off since before Cristóbal was even born.

Before you had gotten pregnant with your son, the answer had been an unwavering ‘yes’. Two children had felt like a good number; little siblings who could play and grow together. And even now, the idea tugs on your heartstrings, the thought of your precious family expanding to welcome another perfect baby.

And yet.

“I- Miguel, it was so hard with Cristóbal.” It’s a severe understatement. He sighs softly, arms squeezing you tighter.

“I know, amor. But we’ll know what to expect this time. And you know I’ll always take care of you.” Miguel dips his head to press a kiss to your bare shoulder. Your hesitation is weakening by the second, soothed by Miguel’s touch and his promise.

“Even when I get fat and hideous again?” You ask, running the fingers of your free hand along his forearm.

“You weren’t fat, you were pregnant. How could you possibly be hideous, full of our baby?” He trails more kisses along the curve of your shoulder and neck, and you tip your head back to allow him better access.

“You just say that because you were into it,” you huff, but Miguel ignores you in favour of nipping your throat. He could hardly deny it anyway; from the first shy curve of your belly, he had been intensely preoccupied with the changes his baby was wreaking on your body.

The relentless assault on your reserve escalates when your husband presses his leg between yours, providing the barest amount of pressure at the apex of your thighs. Your cocktail dress isn’t so accommodating; you’re certain you hear some of the stitches pop as he tries to force your legs further apart. It’s so hard to think straight with his mouth at your neck and his thigh against your centre, that familiar tightness in your core just starting to build.

You let go of the pills, the packet clattering as it falls from your fingers and into the sink.

“I want a real conversation about this tomorrow. Sober. Uninterrupted,” you manage between shaking breaths. The hard line of his cock presses insistently against the curve of your backside, and your eyes practically roll back in your head at the feeling.

“Fine,” Miguel says between kisses, backing off just enough to turn you around to face him.

“I mean it,” you try even as he encourages you up to sit on the bathroom counter. Your fingers grip the front of his black shirt, and you have to fight the urge to pull it open and send buttons scattering over the floor.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Tonight’s mine.” Miguel steps between your legs and tries to kiss you, but you lean back.

“Tonight’s yours, jefe. But if we’re trying again, I want to be seduced. Make it something I want.” Your fingers start working open the buttons of his shirt as he gives you an amused smile.

“I can’t conjure up another thunderstorm, mi amor,” he starts, and you pout up at him. In a hormonal haze when you were pregnant with Cristóbal, you had become convinced he’d been conceived during one of the rare thunderstorms that rolled across the desert. The oppressive August heat had broken for a little while, and you and Miguel had made good use of the time.

“If you don’t like my terms-”

“The terms are fine, I’m just tempering your expectations. Short of arranging an act of God for you, what kind of seduction do you want?” He trails his fingers up the inside of your thigh, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw gently. You swallow thickly, the way he’s looking at you making you feel delirious with need.

“Do you want me to be sweet with you, baby?” The hand on your thigh slides under the hem of your dress, higher, until his fingertips brush against your silky underwear. He knows you, knows what you need; for him to supplant your anxieties with something dark and thrilling. You don’t miss the brief, smug smirk when he registers how wet you are already, and he makes a soft, contented noise in the back of his throat.

“My pretty baby. I can be sweet with you if you want me to be. Bring you roses and compare you to poetry. ‘Mi patria está en tus ojos, yo camino por ellos, ellos dan luz al mundo por donde yo camino…’” Miguel leans in to kiss you again, and you don’t pull back this time. Using Neruda and pet names against you is underhanded at best, but you can’t argue with it, not when you’d asked for a seduction.

Miguel’s mouth slants over yours, stealing your breath with the depth of the kiss. You can taste the whiskey from dinner on his lips. His fingertips press more firmly against your cunt, finding your clit through the silk, and you whimper against his mouth as heat radiates through your body. You’re so caught up in the way his hand between your legs is petting at you that you don’t notice his other hand shifting. He grabs a fistful of your hair with no warning, the sharp pain in your scalp eliciting a stunned cry from you. The feeling dances right along that knife edge of pleasure-pain, one that you’ve become intimately familiar with since you met Miguel.

“Or do you want a different kind of seduction?” He asks, ignoring your needy whine when he stops stroking your clit. The hand in your hair tugs down, forcing you to arch your back and expose your throat to him. More stitches pop as he steps closer between your legs, your dress riding up your thighs as you try to accommodate him. He leans down until your noses bump, his dark gaze unwavering.

“Should I be mean to you, mi amor? Cruel, demanding?” His free hand finds your throat, his palm burning hot against your skin. Your nails catch at his black undershirt, clawing at the soft fabric. The silk of your dress and the slick marble of the counter leaves you feeling like you’re slipping inexorably forwards, towards Miguel. He gives a little shake of your throat; he’s barely applying any pressure, but your breath hitches anyway.

“I know how much you like it, mijita. You like it so much it makes you feel wretched,” he murmurs, and you can’t argue with him. Even the condescending way he calls you ‘mijita’ does something inexplicable to you, sending heat rushing through your veins, scorching you from the inside out.

“Fuck, Miguel-” you gasp out, your eyelashes fluttering closed. He could have you right here on the unforgiving bathroom counter and you’d only urge him on. Instead, he hauls you upright, steadying you when your knees nearly buckle under you, and kisses you again. His beard rasps against your skin, his tongue dips between your lips, and it all works in concert to make the ache in your core feel so overwhelming that you might cry.

The two of you stumble towards the bedroom together, neither of you willing to break apart for long enough to find your way more easily. You manage to get Miguel’s shirt and undershirt off finally, and you feel immensely gratified by the soft groan you pull from him when you drag your nails down his chest. You stop at the foot of the bed, Miguel reaching behind you to try and find the zipper of your dress.

Part of you wants to tell him not to bother - with all the sounds of stitches ripping earlier, the delicate silk is probably beyond saving - but you take the opportunity while his hands are occupied to run your fingers through his dark curls. He’s always so put together for the rest of the world, but you adore messing with his hair; on rare occasions, he’ll let you comb your fingers through it while he rests his head in your lap.

More stitches pop when Miguel finally gets the zipper undone and shoves your dress abruptly down your body, leaving it in an expensive pile on the floor as he focuses his attention on your bra. By the time he has you completely stripped, your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath between kisses, your heart beating a rapid tattoo against your ribcage.

“Bed,” he orders, even as he pushes you back onto the mattress. You do as you’re told, moving back until you reach the pillows and kicking the heavy duvet out of the way. Sitting with your back to the tufted headboard, you watch with hungry eyes as Miguel undresses the rest of the way. Your reaction to the sight and sound of him undoing his belt is practically Pavlovian; you can feel more slick pooling between your thighs as he does it.

You drink in the sight of him greedily, eyes trailing over tanned skin and firm muscle. It’s a mutual act of voyeurism. He’s eyeing you predatorily, like he’s deciding on how best he wants to devour you. Neither of you takes your eyes off one another for a long moment, even as he moves to kneel on the bed at your feet.

Miguel’s large hands cup your ankles first, his thumbs sweeping over the delicate jut of bone before sliding up your calves, your thighs, higher. You’re pliant for him, letting him open your legs so he can kneel between your thighs, so agonisingly close to where you want him most. It’s only as he spreads his hands over your hips that you realise what he’s looking at, and you squirm in discomfort.

“Miguel, don’t-” you start, automatically trying to bring one of your hands down to cover your c-section scar. He ignores you, batting your hand away before grasping your hips again. His thumbs rub circles over your hipbones, just inches away from the scar you can’t stand.

“Oh, mijita,” he murmurs, condescension creeping into his voice again. “This is Galindo territory. If I wanted to keep you in this bed until something stuck, I could.” As distractions go, it’s excellent. Your mind spins off in half a dozen directions at once. By the tone of his voice, you know he’s not referring to Santo Padre when he’s talking about territory.

Whether he means either your bed or your body, you’ll gladly cede control to him like this.

The feminist in you should feel ashamed at the way you crave his dominance and displays of strength, but you’d abandoned yourself to it years ago. He’d long since discovered that it was the perfect way to get you out of your own head.

Miguel’s hands move up from your hips, coming to rest on either side of your head as he stretches his body out over yours. You wrap yourself around him eagerly, cradling his hips with your thighs and wrapping your arms around his broad torso so you can clutch at his back. The warm weight of him on top of you sends you squirming, seeking some sort of relief for your aching cunt.

You surge forward and kiss him hard, whimpering against his mouth when you feel one of his hands slip between your bodies. He wraps his fingers around his cock, his knuckles brushing your slick folds and you flick your hips to try and chase the brief touch.

“You’re so wet,” he manages, dragging the head of his cock through your slit. The feeling makes you wail, your cunt clenching pathetically around nothing. “I’m going to fuck you full, baby.”

“God, do it, do it-” you gasp out, cutting yourself off with a sharp cry when he finally stops teasing and slides into you, burying himself to the hilt. Wet as you are, it’s still a stretch as he fills you, dragging you right back along that pleasure-pain knife edge. The two of you groan together when he bottoms out, your hands skittering along his back as you search for purchase and your eyes squeezing closed.

Your nails sink into the skin of his shoulders when he pulls most of the way out, as though you can claw him back down to you. He doesn’t need the encouragement to sink back in again, but you swear you feel him pulse inside of you when you scratch your way down his back. Normally scratching at Miguel like that would get you punished, but he barely even falters as he starts to fuck you properly.

Every hard thrust of his hips sends more heat licking through your veins, pleasure coiling so tightly in your belly that you can barely breathe. You can feel every low groan rumbling through Miguel’s chest as it escapes him. It’s impossible to tell where he ends and you begin, his cock pushing up against the very end of you.

His hands, his huge hands that you love so much, settle on your waist and hold you tight so you don’t shift up the bed. The way he moves you so easily makes you feel helpless in the most thrilling, perverse way. He could crack you in two, and you’d only thank him for it. And now, with the weight of him on you and his grip on your waist, all you can do is lie there and take what he gives you.

“Miguel-” His name escapes you as a pathetic little mewl between moans, and when you force your eyes open you nearly black out. He’s looking down at you with an intensity that makes you want to sob, a vivid reminder of the pleasure he took in trying to get you pregnant the first time. You’re agonisingly close to the edge, the muscles in your core cramping from being held taut for so long, and you try to shove one of your hands between your bodies.

It doesn’t work. There’s not enough space between you, you can’t move Miguel’s solid chest enough to get room to slide your hand down, and you really do sob this time in frustration.

“Miguel, please,” you manage, grabbing at one of his hands. “Please, please, I’m so close, I just need your fingers, please.” You’re in no state to eloquently ask for what you want; you’re surprised you can even recall your own name right now. You throw your head back in anticipation when Miguel takes your cue, his pace unchecked even as he slides his hand between you to find your clit.

A ragged sound rips out of your mouth as he strokes your clit. There’s no technique to it, but it doesn’t matter; every pass of his fingers sends you spiralling higher, your body bearing down on him as you teeter on the brink.

“Oh fuck.” Your voice sounds wrecked even to your own ears. “That’s it, ‘m so close, please Daddy, please Daddy-” you chant, until the tension in your belly suddenly snaps and sends you hurtling over the edge. Heat washes over your body, radiating out until you find yourself balling your fists and curling your toes at the intensity.

Before you’ve even stopped trembling, Miguel’s hand finds your throat again and squeezes. It’s not enough pressure to cut your air off completely, but it’s enough to turn your moans into weak gasps. Your hands catch his wrist, urging him on, trying to get him to press tighter. You hope he leaves bruises. The sharp movements of his hips turn savage and he fucks you harder into the mattress as he presses down on your throat. You feel drunk on him, your head swimming as you try to clench down on him, to help him find his release the way he’d helped you.

Miguel comes with a loud groan, his fingers tightening on your neck as he forces himself closer, trying to come as deeply in you as he can. The hand on your throat slackens, and you take a deep, gulping breath as you wait for your husband to come back to himself. His weight drops onto you as his muscles slacken and you wrap your arms around him.

You let your eyes fall closed and run your fingers down his back, smiling to yourself when you feel him press kisses down your sternum.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your breast as he pulls out of you, rolling off you and onto his side. You whine at the loss of him, still trying to catch your breath. It makes you jump when he touches your thigh unexpectedly, tugging it towards him. Still, you don’t bother to open your eyes until you feel his fingers at your cunt again.

“Miguel-” you start, opening your eyes and looking down just in time to see him catch a drop of his come that had leaked out of you with his fingertip, and push it abruptly back into you. He must register the surprise on your face because he gives you that smug smile again.

“You promised me that tonight was mine. Give Daddy half an hour and he’ll be able to go again, there’s my good girl,” he murmurs, half-dragging you into his arms. As much as you want to relax against his chest, you can’t help but pout up at him. It’s so casually condescending, but he had it right earlier; you like it so much, beyond all sense. Miguel notices the expression on your face, and the smirk on his face widens.

“It’s not my fault you’re a terrible negotiator.” Miguel smooths your hair down and runs his hand down your back. You concede, letting yourself go boneless as he palms your ass, pressing you closer to him. “So smart, but so susceptible to my charms.”

Taglist: @misscharlielulu, @avengersfan25

Poetry Translation: Mi patria está en tus ojos, yo camino por ellos, ellos dan luz al mundo por donde yo camino // My homeland is in your eyes, I walk through them, they light the world through which I walk.

#k2023bdaybingo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc

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garbinge · 2 years ago

Text

Commission Job

Nestor Oceteva x F!Galindo!Reader

Day 19 from these April Prompts: A Commission Job

Summary: Part 2 to Minimum Wage, but can be read as a standalone. After Miguel orders a hit on Nestor, he comes crashing at your doorstep.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Angsty af. Mentions of blood, killing, death, murder, all canon level thangggs ya know.

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @narcolini @justreblogginfics

Part 1

You wished you ignored the doorbell and the persistent knocking. That was the lie you were telling yourself as the two parts of your brain argued against each other on what to do with the disheveled man at your doorstep. The part of you who had been living in this small town under a new name with no ties to your old life was fighting with the other part of your brain that hadn’t been functional in years… the Galindo in you.

The initial shock of seeing Nestor bruised and bloody on your doorstep was gone in seconds. You didn’t ask questions, you just brought him inside and into the coat closet.

“Wrong house!” You called out to the company you had over that was currently in the kitchen halfway through dinner as you shoved Nestor into the closet and shut the door. He didn’t say anything either, he just followed your suit.

“You know, I’m not feeling so hot.” You made your way back to your kitchen bar and made a scrunched up face. “Getting up made me realize I’m feeling kind of blah.” You were easily falling into the lie, your Galindo traits rising back up from the ashes.

Your date was making their way down the hallway, disappointment all over their face as they did whatever they could to change your mind. Little did they know that the half broken man in your closet was not going to make that happen.

After your company left you moved immediately to the closet and opened the door to see Nestor sitting on the cubbies you had as storage.

“You think you can make it to the bathroom? It’s upstairs.” You would ask questions later, but right now you were prioritizing.

“Yea.” His voice was rough and more raspy than normal but it brought your heart up to your throat. Seeing him caused you to go into reaction mode but hearing him speak for the first time caused you to want to throw up.

You brought your arm around his torso and his arm instinctually went around your shoulder as you trudged upstairs. Luckily, it wasn’t many steps before you were in the bathroom. It was obvious that he wasn’t putting all his weight on you but once he was seated on the closed lid toilet you could see his body collapsed in exhaustion.

Black eye, deep scratch over his cheek bone, probably some broken ribs from the way he was limping. That was the bulk of the damage you were able to clock by looking at him. With a deep breath you opened the cabinets below the sink and pulled out the first aid kit.

“I’m gonna need you to lift your shirt up.”

Nestor obliged, it was then that you realized he wasn’t in his normal outfit of a button up and slacks but a t-shirt and jeans. You frowned but quickly moved to look at the bruising and cuts on his abdomen.

“Great, more open wounds.” You mumbled as you bent down to clean up the dried blood around the cuts. You both sat in silence for a while as you cleaned up the cuts and gave Nestor a cold washcloth to hold against the bruising until you could go downstairs and grab an ice pack.

“You need stitches.” You pointed to his face as you sat on the edge of your tub. “I don’t have the tools for that but I can give you a butterfly bandage.” Your voice was monotone as you spoke.

“That’s fine.” His voice still deep and raspy.

With a nod you were leaning over him and grabbing the bandage from the kit and applying it to his face. His breath was hot against your face as you got close to adjust the open cut with the bandage. Quick to move back you looked back down at his ribs.

“Let me get you an ice pack.”

Before he could say anything you were up and out of the bathroom and picking up your pace down the stairs. It was an opportunity to truly ask yourself what the fuck was happening. It had been years since you saw Nestor. Suddenly everything was hitting you. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here? Who beat him up this bad? Why didn’t he go to Miguel? Did Miguel know where you were?

It was overwhelming to say the least, you started to get angry but then you thought about Nestor’s helpless being upstairs and it disappeared instantly. The only way you knew you were going to get answers was to ask him, and if things were even remotely the same as they were years ago, you knew that wasn’t a guarantee either, but you had to try.

As you walked back to the bathroom you saw Nestor struggling to stand up.

“Woah, what are you–” Your feet moved quickly on the bathroom tile and before you could finish your statement he was collapsing into your arms taking the wind out of you. “C’mon, sit back down.” A large groan came from the both of you as you took on his full body weight now and attempted to place him back down on the toilet. The pain from his injuries and your shitty attempt to placing him carefully back down causing him to react in agony.

“Take this.” The medicine cabinet was opening as you shuffled through your things and pulled out an old prescription of some pain medicine. You handed him two pills and filled up a dixie cup with water after he tossed them in his mouth.

You stared down at him, your mind finding itself back in that same place it was downstairs.

“I need something.”

Those were the words you decided to lead with. Not what the fuck is happening. Not what the fuck is going on. No. You decided that you’d go into this the way you knew worked best with Nestor. Meeting him at his own place of comfort. It wasn’t fair, he came to your house, which was still unclear how, but he was the one barely able to stand in your bathroom right now so, sure, you’d give him a break.

“Mikey has a hit out on me.”

Now you were the one barely able to stand. You stabled yourself by gripping the bathroom counter.

“Come again?” You frowned. It was shocking to hear Nestor so easily give up information and to hear THAT information was cause enough for you to feel like you were going to throw up.

“Your brother hired someone to kill me. A commissioned job.” He said it again, this time more explanatory and it only made your stomach pit tighten more.

“Wh– Uh– How?” You started to stutter, you weren’t able to take in that information. You prided yourself on your ability to take in all sorts of information, coming from the Galindo family where your father and brother lied and killed and manipulated, nothing came as a shock to you. For God’s sakes the braided man in front of you knocked on your door, that he shouldn’t have known about, bloodied and bruised and you brought him in with no words or question. But this? This was unexpected.

“Your mom. She’s dead. He, uh, isn’t doing too good. He killed Paco. Right in front of me. In front of Marcus.” Nestor’s voice was rattled. It was how you knew that this wasn’t a normal situation, not that Nestor telling you your brother put a hit on him was normal but you were searching for anything right now.

“Marcus?” You questioned completely ignoring the part about your mother, your voice just as rattled as his.

“Consejero.” Nestor let out a deep breath as he remembered you had no idea about anything.

“Nestor, what the fuck is going on.” The rattled tone changed to desperate and before he answered you heard a knock at your door. It was firm and loud, and it matched your heart beat.

Nestor was standing up like none of his injuries existed, if you were thinking logically, you would have chalked it up to adrenaline but right now you just felt your whole life crashing down on you.

So many thoughts in such little time. You didn’t ask for this. Nestor came to your doorstep and now you were dealing with the aftermath of that. You’d kill Miguel. Galindo habits die hard, but your will to protect yourself from them would go down harder. Nestor was quick to grab the gun from under the bathroom sink that he probably clocked earlier but like you said, Galindo habits die hard and he knew you probably had one stored in each room of the house.

He was making his way down the stairs, way faster than when he arrived. He peaked through the peep hole and immediately his shoulders relaxed and he opened the door, quick to fall back on the steps.

Now, there was a stoic tall man in a button up t-shirt and slacks standing in your foyer as Nestor laid collapsed on the bottom step and you at the very top staring down to both men.

“Marcus.” Nestor pointed to Marcus in his way of introducing you.

“I’d say nice to meet you but this is fucked.” You made your way down the stairs to grab the gun from Nestor and situate him in a better position. “I’ll be taking this for now.” You put the safety back on and placed the gun in your back waistband before picking Nestor up against the wall. “Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on and how the fuck you knew where I was?” It was essentially two questions, one was pointed at Marcus and one was pointed at Nestor.

“I’m sorry to barge into your home like this.” Marcus said like it was the beginning to an explanation but just looked at Nestor to respond.

“She knows.” Nestor breathed out the two words.

Marcus nodded. “Well then, you know everything we do.”

You raised your eyebrows and let out a laugh. “Respectfully, I think the fuck I don’t.”

Marcus was glaring at Nestor again, not wanting to get anymore involved in this than he already was.

“I knew where you were, found you a few months after you left. Never told Miguel.” Nestor’s eyes were closed as his chest raised and fell with his deep breaths.

You were speechless which was Nestor’s invitation to keep talking.

“I got attacked. Your brother, ordered the hit on me. He’s pissed about your mom.”

Your mom. When Nestor mentioned it before it slipped out of your mind over the thought that your brother ordered a hit on his best friend.

“She was murdered. Not sure by who but he blames us all. I got away, laid low, told Marcus to meet me here.”

“How do I know you weren’t followed.” You snapped your head to look at Marcus who was still standing stoic in your entryway.

“I wasn’t.” His voice was steady. You believed him, there wasn’t anything you could do if you didn’t but the way he was handling this right now was better than you expected from someone you’d never met.

You sat in the silence for a minute, taking everything in before shaking it all off, letting the Galindo fall right back into place.

“So what the fuck do we do now?” You looked straight at Marcus as you asked, knowing Nestor called him here for a reason and if he trusted him you should too.

“We run.” His advice was chaotic but it was spoken so confidently that you didn’t have an ounce of doubt in you. Maybe it was because running was a life you knew about pretty well, it was comfortable. It was safe, ironically. “But for now, let’s get him to a couch, we’ll head out in a few hours.”

You nodded in agreement as Marcus walked over to help you bring Nestor to your living room. Placing him on the couch you both stood over him. After a moment you looked over at Marcus and introduced yourself giving him your name.

“Miguel’s sister.” You specified even more. Before the two of you could speak more, Nestor was mumbling under his breath.

“What?” You placed your attention on him.

“Before I showed up. Were you on a date?” Nestor grumbled, the pain medicine obviously kicking in.

Embarrassed, you snapped your head towards Marcus who was quick to look away.

“I’ll, uh.” Marcus pointed towards the kitchen and quickly made himself scarce leaving you and Nestor in the living room.

“Not a very good one if this was the highlight of my night.” Your voice was annoyed but you spoke the truth.

Nestor smiled at your response. It was a mix of pride and also relief. “Maybe, when this is all over, I can take you on a date.”

His voice was slurring, it was another empty promise, you knew that, but you also knew that he meant it.

“You should get some rest, Nes.” As your hand swayed next to him, he grabbed it.

“Promise me that you’ll give me a chance.”

You froze at his touch but then nodded. If he could give you an empty promise, you should be able to also.

“I promise.”

Part 1

#nestor x reader #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans fanfiction #mayans fanfic #nestor fanfic #nestor oceteva x galindo sister #galindo sister reader #galindo sister #galindo reader #marcus alvarez

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