#miguel galindo x reader

[imagineredwood]

Group HC - The Boys reactions to getting caught stealing your panties 👙

I know. I know. It’s terrible and gross and icky I KNOW 😭😭 but I saw HCs for another shows characters around this idea and I couldn’t get it out of my head and it triggered the memory that this is actually canon for Juice and…yeah. Here we are 🧍🏻‍♀️

He’s not sorry. Or embarrassed. He loves you, loves everything about you. He thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He worships you and the ground beneath your feet. So why wouldn’t he steal your panties? They’re yours, and they rest against his most favorite part of you all day 🤷🏻‍♀️ He won’t apologize, not even when your face heats up and you cover it with both hands. On the contrary, he probably makes a show of taking one out of the secret pile and sniffing it. He’s nasty, and he knows regardless of how you feel about it, you know he does it out of love and devotion. So he’s ok with it. And he’s not gonna stop.

He’s ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. Felt weird and invasive, but he couldn’t help it. He just loves you so much, and he gets lonely when you’re apart, and it smells like you. What else was he supposed to do? He would never cheat, would never even dream of it. But the stress of the club gets to him, especially the more complicated things get, he just needs comfort and relief, and when he saw them laying there in the hamper, he snagged it without thinking. Then he couldn’t stop, even when he knew he should. Even goes as far as offering to take apart the washer saying that maybe the machine is eating them 👀 He apologizes, cheeks tinted red, eyes downcast and hopes you don’t hold it against him. He’ll ask before he takes them next time, scouts honor.

Like Angel, he’s not embarrassed. He just shrugs, telling you that you’re his girl and your pussy is his, so why can’t he just take them? 🙄 He buys you new pairs every now and then anyway. So he wants to smell you randomly throughout the day, whats the harm in that? He just misses you. And likes to look at the pair and reminisce about times he’s taken them off of you. Is that a crime? He even reaches into his kutte and pulls out the pair that he’s kept on him today to show that it’s no big deal, and they’re the ones from yesterday, you recognize.

He’s bashful, arguably, but not necessarily embarrassed. It’s more about getting caught than it is the actual act. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. He’s not sorry for taking them, he’s just sorry that it’s kinda awkward for you to find the stash. He laughs awkwardly, shrugging it off or trying to anyway. Explains that he just rarely gets time to himself, so he is uses them when he’s alone in Templo to get his mind right. That your scent calms him and helps his focus. He didn’t think you’d mind too much, he just also never expected you to find out.

He's not sorry in the slightest and he makes sure you know it too. He bought every pair anyway, what's the issue? He could buy you 30 pairs by lunch 🙄 He wasn't up from about it, no, but he also didn't necessarily hide it. It just wasn't entirely in the open. You're respectful and don't go through his stuff in his office so how would you have known he had an entire drawer of his desk with them all collected in there? You'll get over it, a few new lingerie sets will make sure of that.

The OG of panty stealing and sniffing himself. It’s canon after all. He just can’t help himself. You’re his moon and stars and he just can’t get enough of you. Even when you’re perched in his lap, cockwarming him, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, it’s not enough. He needs to be in your skin. But he can’t. So stealing your panties is the next best thing. It’s a compulsion he can’t fight. God knows he’s tried. And he tells you as much. Lists all of the things he did first to try and not have to submit to that desire. But in the end it didn’t matter. He just needs to have your most intimate article with him at all times. Keeps He doesn’t want you to think he’s a freak but he also just need you to know how much he absolutely loves, adores, and worships you. He’ll even hand over the pair in his pocket if you ask him to.

He's nonchalant about it. It's just panties. You have a bunch more. Not like you were gonna miss them or something. He just loves you and likes to have something of yours that he can keep nearby when he misses you. One in his pocket, one in the sale bag of his bike tucked away hidden. His stash is dispersed, not because he was necessarily hiding them, but because there's one each place that will serve a purpose.

Also not embarrassed. Hits you with that famous smirk, his shoulders shrugging as you stare at him waiting for an answer. "Just miss you sometimes, Darlin'. Just somethin' to get me by." Like it's perfectly normal. He left you your favorite pairs after all. He only takes the ones you're not the biggest fan of, so you wouldn't notice as quickly. It's not a big deal, he can give them back. Sometimes he just needs to sit in the chapel with them over his face while he strokes himself before Church so he can make sure he has a level head before this important vote.

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

[hennyjwrites]

I’d love to see something with Miguel Galindo.

Smut

“Use your words” and “Let me take a peek.” Because I hear him saying them and 🥵.

Thank you in advance!

Miguel knew you were Angel's wife. Did he care? No. He was infatuated with you. If anything, taking you from Angel would make him feel even better. Taking you away from the streets and putting you in a mansion above everything and everyone. He saw you in a bar and took his opportunity. You knew it was wrong to get into his car considering the bad blood but Angel had cheated once again. You were hurting and don't care at the moment.

You were sitting next to him in the limo, laughing at a joke he told you. His hand was on your thigh. Miguel was quite the charmer. His hand rubbed you slowly. Your laughter died down as you looked over at him. He was already staring at you, waiting for your reaction. His hand moved up your thigh pulling at your thong.

“Miguel.” You warned, knowing this was going to end badly in the future. Miguel’s finger traced over your pussy and you tried to close them before you drowned in the pleasure.

Miguel prayed your legs back open. “Open your legs mi amor. I just want to take a peek.” His voice was smooth and his accent made him sexier. Your legs opened slightly giving Miguel what he wanted.

Miguel laid you back on the seat once your legs opened. “This is about you tonight. I’m going to send you back to your so-called husband dripping, missing me between your legs.”

Miguel pulled your panties down your legs. The wetness from your pussy leaves a string between it and the fabric. Miguel trailed his finger down your pussy. He heard your breath hitch. He pushed one finger in. He felt your pussy swallow his finger making his dick harden.

“You want more?” He asked. You moaned out. “Use your words of love. Beg me to make you feel good.”

“Please Miguel, please.”

That’s all Miguel needed to hear before he dived into your pussy. Miguel tongued your clit, making sure to suck on it softly. He pushed another finger into your pussy. Your soft moans, egged him on. Your fingers tangling in his hair. He was so different then Angel. He was caring about your pleasure.

He fingered you as he ate you. He sat up and spit on your pussy before diving back in. Miguel didn’t care about breathing. He just wanted you to cum all over his face.

Miguel smiled into your pussy as your legs quivered and he felt you clench around his fingers. You came, a loud moan following. Miguel ate you through your orgasm, prolonging it.

When you finally stopped shaking, Miguel pulled away. The car finally stopped. And you realized you were in front of Angel's house. Miguel pulled your face towards him and tongue kissed you. You tasted your essence on his tongue. You pulled away and watched as Miguel pocketed your panties.

Migue made a show of stepping out and opening your door. Angel walked out, shocked to see you stepping out of Miguel’s Galindos car. Before you could walk away, Miguel pulled you back, “when you're ready to stop slumming with the riff raff, you know my number.” He looked at Angel who was fuming. He smirked at him and winked. “I’m expecting your call soon.”

Miguel got back in his car and as you walked past a complaining angel you were already pulling your phone out ready to join Miguel.

[pascalispretty]

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

[saturnville]

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.

[justanoasisimagines]

Mi Amor,

Hey lovelies, requests are open, my guidelines are pinned to the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

Today it's been five years since I first laid eyes on you. I cannot believe it's been so long. Only yesterday, was I looking at you during a board meeting. You were knowledgeable and brilliant and the way you held your own was remarkable. I admit I knew then I would know you. Did I know it would lead us to a five-year relationship full of ups and downs? No. However, I'm glad I followed my instincts because it led me to you. Happy Anniversary Mi Amor, here's to many more years together. With you by my side, I'll always be unstoppable. Yours Forever, Miguel x

[sonnyalice]

I’ve said this a lot before but I’ve always had writers block. but now I have so much energy to write stories somebody request something. I miss writing

[mrsamaroevans]

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 ||

[drabbles-mc]

Withered

Miguel Galindo x GN!Reader

Warnings: 18+, angst

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I've ever written for, I'm aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We'll see how far we get!

Prompt: flowers

Word Count: 200

A/N: the way the universe tried to play me by making me write for Miguel the first day I challenge myself to do this. Cruel and unusual punishment 😂 But! We persevered!! Also just to keep it a buck with y'all, March is going to be such a horrid hellish month for me and I'm just hoping this gives me a little something to look forward to in the midst of a lot of craziness. Plus I've been in such a writing funk so hopefully it pulls me out of it. 🤞🏻

How things had ended wasn't surprising. Deep down you'd always known that it could end this way. That was the reason you never gave up your lease– no matter what Miguel said or how convincingly he said it, you could never fully trust him. So you were back where you had started, bag slung over your shoulder as you dug out your keys. It didn't matter that your apartment hadn't been your home for so long.

Your lack of surprise didn't do anything to dull the pain. And as if being alone and having to return to the place that you no longer wanted to be home wasn't enough, the universe came up with more salt to pour in your wounds.

Walking into the kitchen you saw the vase of flowers still there, the last ones he bought you so long ago, wilted and dead now like so many other things.

You stared at them a moment, ignored the tears in your eyes as you thought to yourself that one turn deserved another. If he could throw the last of you away, you could throw the last of him away too. If only it felt like it made you even.

[imagineredwood]

Yandere ask - Most likely Mayans to use overstimulation to force their girl into staying home because she's too worn out to go out

Angel, EZ, Coco, Manny and of course Miguel (wasn't sure if you meant only Mayans or the show in general)

EZ does it in a more discrete way, making it seem like he just so happened to overstimulate you enough to where you're sleepy and limp. Cooing at you, "I'm sorry baby. Didn't realize I made you come that many times." Offers up major aftercare and naps to take up more of your time so you don't even have the time to go out with the girls anymore. Would deny it if you ever asked.

Angel is open about it. "Look at the poor baby. Can barely keep her eyes open. Those legs are wide open though, huh? Clit too sensitive, don't want anything touching? Is that it? Guess you can't go out like you planned. I'm sure they'll understand." He planned it out and doesn't care if you know it. Takes his time cleaning you up and cuddling you.

Coco is cruel with it. He'll tell you even before he starts why he's doing it. "Going out? No. I don't think so. I think you'll stay here with me." Doesn't hesitate to tie you or restrain you in some way to make sure you take it all.

Miguel may even take it a step further, vibrator on your clit until your vision goes out and he has to gently smack your cheek to bring you back to, just to then motion to the door. "Go ahead. Go out with the girls. Let's see if you can even stand." And he's plenty cocky when you barely can, that evil smirk plastered on his face as he sucks his teeth at you. "Looks like you'll have to reschedule."

Manny will take no blame at all and place it all on you, chuckling at you when you whine. "Me?? What does it have to do with me? It's your body. I just wanted a taste before you left. I never said you couldn't go. You can get up and get ready right now. I won't stop you." Knowing damn well neither your brain nor your legs can function well enough for you to go anywhere.

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera  @woahitslucyylu  @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts  @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95  @cruzwalters @myakai13   @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous    @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady @choochoo284 @whitetxilwxlf @ravennaortiz @flowercrowns-goodvibes

Mayans MC taglist 

@dazzledamazon  @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name  @blessedboo  @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @myakai13 @cruzwalters  @po3ticb3auty  @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @kaykaysuh @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous  @lovelytricia @carma-fanficaddict

[hennyjwrites]

HennyJ’s Baes: “You can’t handle this.”

Angel:

Angel was a pussy eating god. He had never met a pussy he couldn't eat for hours without drowning. Until he met you. Your hands were pulling at his hair as he raised panting. His beard was covered in your wetness, making it shine in certain spots. He looked from your smirk back to your pussy as he panted. His beard was covered in your wetness. “Fuck.” he whispered loud enough for you to hear. You giggled at his reaction to the ocean you had between your legs. “Told you, you couldn't handle it.” You laughed. Angel brought his finger downs to rub at your clit, making you wetter. Angel groaned as he got back down on his stomach to be face to face with your pussy letting you get your laughs in before he licked up your slit again and closed his mouth around your clit. He sucked harshly making you cry and grab onto his hair. He was trying to prove a point to you as he slid two of his fingers into you. He was trying to prove that he could handle it. You came with a loud moan as the gush of wetness flowed into his mouth. Angel brought his head up panting, with his beard soaked. He looked at your shaking form and smiled. “Since I can't handle this pussy, maybe I need to practice more.” With that, he dove back in still destined to prove you even more wrong.

Rio:

“What happened to all that mouth ma?” Rio asked. His voice was deep and slow as he thrust his fingers deep inside you. He was laid next to you with your legs spread over his. You couldn't speak as he hit that special spot inside you making your legs shake. You were so close and he could tell by the way you clenched around his long fingers. “Talk to me mama, lemme know who can handle this pussy?” He whispered in your ear. He was making you regret your words before you ended like this. Telling him that he couldn't handle your pussy was like challenging his manhood and he was working hard to prove his point. Your pussy fluttered around his fingers as you came around him, throwing your head back and arching your back upwards. “You can handle it, baby.” You moaned out quietly as your orgasm felt never-ending because he kept the steady pace going inside you. “I can handle it?” he clarified, slamming his finger directly into your spot. His voice was still the same as he looked down at the cream coating his fingers. “Yessss.” You drew out, legs shaking as he was bringing you to the edge again. You came again, legs shaking in overstimulation as you closed your legs. “Rio I can't.” You told him looking at his face. He smirked at you. “Nah I need to make sure I can handle this, open your legs darling”

Miguel:

Miguel knew from the moment he met you, you were gonna be trouble. He just didn’t know your pussy would cause him so much distress. “Cmere, my love I just want to talk to her.” Miguel begged, pulling you closer to the bed and of course you let him. He didn’t waste any time as he pulled your panties off, watching the wetness from your pussy leave a trail. “Oh you missed papi didn’t you?” He spoke directly to your pussy before attacking her with his mouth. Your back arched as you slightly giggled from the shock of his mouth. He sucked and licked like his life depended on it. He pulled away, smirking already. “She tried to keep you away, but she knows she can’t resist me either.” He spoke to her again. “Miguel, it's only been 12 hours.” You whined at the contact of his tongue swiveling your clit. He pulled away looking at you. “Longest 12 hours of my life.”

Erik:

“Fuck!” Erik hissed, pulling out of you again. He watched his nut mix in with your wetness and leak out of you. You smiled to yourself. You made him nut under 5 minutes. “Erik it’s ok baby.” You consoled him. “You just can’t handle all this.” You smirked in a condescending voice, already knowing how this was gonna end. Eriks eyes snapped to yours. You had him fucked up. He wasn’t finna go out as a minute man. “Shut the fuck up.” He spoke, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Erik was already hard as he guided himself back into your pussy. You were already making it hard for him. Pussy was so fucking wet and it gripped him like some tongs. Erik didn’t waste any time and thrusted into you hard, making you lose your breath. “Think I can’t handle all this thick shit. Girl Imma show you.” He whispered as he put one leg up in the beg, and grabbed the back of your hair, wrapping it around his hand. One leg up, one hand on the frontal and boom! A few more thrust, hard and good thrust, had you nutting all over his dick. You tried to pull away but Erik pulled you back. “Nah, bring that ass back.”

[pascalispretty]

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.

[saturnville]

I have to be that person for a second. I have released 5-6 fics in the last two weeks. why? because I fed off the love and interaction I was given. when you take the time to appreciate and interact with writers AND their content, they're more enticed and more motivitated to produce more content. so as you prepare to ask a creator to feed you more content, ask yourself if you're taking the time to REBLOG, like, and comment on their work.

thanks again for your guys' support. it pulled me out of a writing slump <3

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

new and improved list

Hi and for the love of God hello 👋🏼 I’m very happy to announce that i’ll be adding the Ted Lasso characters to the list! Feel free to hit up my ask box if you have a request or just want to talk about the boys or any of the shows i’m writing for <3

Requests: Open

Characters i write for:

- Ted Lasso

• Ted Lasso

• Coach Beard

• Roy kent

• Jamie Tartt

• Dani Rojas

• Richard Montlaur

• Sam Obisanya

• Isaac McAdoo

• Thierry Zoreaux

• Jan Maas

• Moe Bumbercatch

• Will Kitman

• Rebecca Welton

• Keeley Jones

- Mayans Mc

• Angel Reyes

• Ez Reyes

• Coco Cruz

• Nestor Oceteva

• Bishop Losa

• Neron “Creeper” Vargas

• Hank Loza

• Michael “Riz” Ariza

• Gilly Lopez

• Miguel Galindo

- Sons of anarchy

• Jax Teller

• Juan “Juice” Ortiz

• Opie Winston

• Happy Lowman

• Filip “Chibs” Telford

• Herman Kozik

• Alexander “Tig” Trager

What i take requests for:

• Headcanons

• Preferences

• Would Includes

• Most likely Tos

• Mood boards/Povs

What i do not take requests for:

• Smut

• Self harm of any kind - Talking about the reader having a mental illness is fine but i’m not comfortable writing about them harming themselves

• Reader being related to any of the characters on the list

• Toxic relationships - We’re all about healthy, loving relationships in this house!

[pascalispretty]

Accepting requests for these! Will write reader inserts for Sonny Carisi, Rafael Barba, Nick Amaro, Miguel Galindo or Joel Miller!

Smut Dialogue Prompts That Make Me Feral

1. “Let me see those eyes.”

2. “Open your mouth for me.”

3. “Please kiss me.”

4. “Use your words.”

5. “Tell me what you want.”

6. “You look so good beneath me.” 

7. “You can take it.”

8. “I can take it.”

9. “You take me so well.”

10. “Spread your legs wider.”

11. “Louder. Let me hear you.”

12. “Keep your eyes on me.”

13. “Touch yourself.”

14. “Do you want my fingers?”

15. “I can’t get enough of you.”

16. “You taste so good.”

17. “Hands behind your back.”

18. “Swallow.”

19. “You are doing so well.”

20. “Breathe through your nose.”

21. “Don’t hold back.”

22. “Show me how much you need me.”

23. “Say my name.”

24. “You can do better than that.”

25. “Does that feel good?”

26. “I want you to ruin me.”

27. “Do you think you deserve this?”

28. “I want to have my way with you.”

29. “Touch me there. Right there.”

30. “I will never get enough of you.” 

[mrsamaroevans]

Meet Me In The Afterglow

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Female Reader.

Request: No.

Words: 3,255.

Warnings: Talk about pregnancy.

A/N: English is not my first language, so, sorry if there are grammar mistakes or if the redaction is poor. *Gif from shadesalvarez. Sorry I had to save it but my phone and laptop stop working whenever I want to look for a gif*

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

Put you in jail for something you didn't do. I pinned your hands behind your back, thought I had reason to attack, but no.

You barely gave him the chance to talk.

Everything was pretty clear; how late he came home, all the cancelations to your dates, his empty chair at lunch and dinner. Everything told you that your husband was cheating. Absolutely everything.

And then that rumor: Miguel and Palomo were spending time together, there was even a picture. That was the moment you couldn’t stay without saying anything. Not anymore.

“I told you Potter wants her compromised,” Miguel said when you confronted him about it.

“And what better way than sleeping with her, right?”

Miguel left what he was doing. His shirt was opened not being able to finish undressing after your words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked. He looked furious, probably as furious as you were. It was never a good combination.

“Miguel, please… You think I’m dumb?” You got up from bed and walked towards him just a few steps. Miguel didn’t take his eyes off you, but he didn’t say anything “You think so?”

“If you really think I’m sleeping with her, then maybe you are.” He said, sarcastically.

“Fuck you.” You told him, walking to your side of the bed again.

“Amor… I don’t know where you got that from…”

“You really don’t know?” You asked, turning back to him “This is the first time in a month that you’re here early… all you do is be out… with her… there are days you don’t even come home to sleep.”

“That doesn’t mean…”

“Shut up!” You cut him off “Don’t you even try to minimize what I feel… don’t you even think about it.”

“I’m not… You don’t trust me?” Miguel seemed confused. He was looking for the right words to say, but he didn’t find them. It was the first time you saw him running out of words.

“How?” You asked “How do you want me to trust you when you don’t talk to me? You don’t come home, I never know where you are, you don’t pick up my calls…” your eyes filled with tears so you needed to pause for a few seconds “Would you trust me if this was the other way round?”

Miguel didn’t say anything. You knew he wouldn’t ‘cause you knew the answer. For goodness sake, Miguel loses his mind for less than that.

“Thank you for coming early today ‘cause I’ve been wanting to tell you something… this is not what you vowed at the altar, so… if this continues like it’s been, I don’t want it. I’ll leave and I’ll take my children with me… oh yeah, I almost forget it...” You shook your head and reached for the cabinet on your bedside table “Congrats…” You told him, handing him the white envelope “You’re gonna be a father for the second time.”

Miguel didn’t open the envelope. He was too shocked, but he got a hold of your hand before you could walk away, nevertheless, he couldn’t say anything.

“I’ll take another room…” You told him “Goodnight.”

And you left him alone.

Three days later, Miguel still hadn’t talked to you. If he had to go out of the house, he asked someone to tell you and if by any chance you two find each other around the house, he never said a word. But that night he was home early. You heard him walking to your shared bedroom and closing the door. But somehow, you couldn’t fall asleep so you took your nightgown, and your phone and went out to the pool with a giant glass of cranberry juice.

What a goddamn moment to be pregnant.

Surely your brain needed something stronger than a simple juice.

The night was quiet and cool. Time went by hearing the crickets sing and looking at the moon twinkling on the water of the pool. You were so inside your brain that you didn’t hear Nestor’s steps when he got close to you.

“Nestor!” You said, one of your hands on your chest for the surprise “You scared me.”

Your husband’s best friend smiled and with the look he threw at you, he asked for permission to sit in the same armchair. You nodded immediately.

“Are you okay?” He asked once he got a seat.

“Yeah, why are you asking?”

He shrugged.

“I have seen you and Miguel”

You rolled your eyes.

So that was it.

“Miguel sent you.” You didn’t ask. It was Obvious. Nestor does everything Miguel says.

“No…” He said, sounding convincing “He told me about your worries, though.” Nestor was silent for a couple of minutes just like you did “Miguel’s no cheating on you…”

“Nestor… stop.” You cut him off “We’re friends but I know your bond with Miguel is stronger, I know where your loyalty lies and it’s with him, not with me…”

“You’re right,” he nodded “Miguel is like a brother to me.”

“And that’s why you’d cover his lies—”

“And that’s why I’m here,” he corrected you. He had a little teasing smile on his face “If he was cheating on you —which he’s not—, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t tell you a thing.”

You thought about it. You remembered when Miguel was going to propose to you. You knew it, you had suspected it from weeks before and you tried to get information out of Nestor but he never told you a single thing. He even avoided being left alone with you. Or that time when Los Olvidados took your son and Miguel did something he told you he wouldn’t. Nestor ran away from you every time he saw you and it didn’t matter how insistent you were; he didn’t tell you anything.

Maybe his loyalty was with Miguel and maybe he was gonna cover him forever, but he was right. If Miguel was really cheating on you, he wouldn’t be there. You were his friend too.

“Miguel knows he’s been away for too long…” Nestor added “But it has nothing to do with an affair…”

“Then where is he?” You asked looking at him “Where is he when he comes home late, when he doesn’t come home at all?”

“He’s been dealing a lot with Potter… and wait… how many nights he hasn’t come home?”

You tried to remember but you couldn’t think more than once.

“Like… two?”

“Just once.” Nestor corrected you “Listen, I’ve known Miguel since we were kids… when he met you, he became someone new and I knew that what he felt for you was real and strong.”

“You’re making me feel terrible.”

“No,” he chuckled “You had the right to feel that way, I mean… is the easiest thought.”

You laughed.

“I’m just gonna ignore that you just said I’m not original.”

Nestor laughed too. It was probably the first time in weeks you laughed that way with someone that was an adult.

“You know what I mean,” Nestor said and you just nodded.

“I fucked it up, right?” you asked, your elbows in your legs.

“I think the both of you did.”

You sighed, thinking about the way Miguel reacted when you accused him of sleeping with Palomo. Of course he was mad. You’d also be mad if he accused you of having an affair.

“You’re going inside so I can close in here?”

“No.” You told him “I’ll close, thanks.”

He nodded and smiled once again before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

I lived like an island, punished you with silence, went off like sirens, just crying. Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

Miguel, as he told you, he didn’t know why would you think he was cheating on you with Palomo. Truth was that neglected his home and family for all the opportunities he’s been having since he made the deal with Potter and Los Olvidados, but it never crossed his mind to cheat on you.

He loved you. Everybody knew it. Even people who were never okay with your marriage accepted it. Nobody could say that Miguel Galindo didn’t love his wife. It was obvious every time he laid his eyes on you. Every time he was near you. Nobody could get in between your relationship, every man and every woman knew it.

He was furious. He didn’t think the word furious was appropriate for what he was feeling. But he was furious that the idea crossed your mind. Yes, he’s not been at home lately but, where did you leave the trust? Why didn’t you trust him?

So you didn’t talk. Miguel was not in the mood to argue and he knew he would say terrible things and he didn’t want to, let alone knowing you were carrying his second child. But, he was worried about what you said; You’d leave? Take his children away from him? If he ever say that he didn’t care or that he was not afraid, would be lying. Miguel didn’t see his life without you and every day he arrived home, that fear beat in his chest for the possibility of not finding you there.

Every night, he gets into the closet and his fear vanishes whenever he sees all your clothes. O whenever he gets into the house and sees Cristobal's toys in the living room, he just sighs and smiles ‘cause that means you're still there.

A week and a half went by. On a Tuesday he got home earlier than what he used to. It was past seven and the first floor was too quiet. The fear hit him, so quickly went upstairs just to hear his son’s laughter coming out from his bedroom. Miguel calmed down and walked toward there. He needed to see him awake.

“DADDY!”

Miguel smiled at his son’s excitement. Cristobal was in the bathtub, he had foam in his head and was playing with some plastic ships. You were sitting on the floor at the bathtub’s side and had also a ship in your hand but you didn’t look at him.

Miguel had kept his distance to give you space and to clear his mind. But probably wasn’t the best decision he had made.

“We went to school today,” Cristobal told him when he sat at the edge of the bathtub not caring he could get his clothes wet.

“School?” Miguel asked, looking at you but Cristobal was already an expert at talking so he answered:

“Yes. Mommy says that I will go to kindergarten soon...”

Miguel nodded and smiled. Cristobal was about to be of age to go to school, but you had not talked about it ‘cause for obvious reasons he wanted his son to be homeschooled.

“And did you like it?” Miguel asked, wiping the foam off his cheek.

Cristobal nodded while smiling widely and Miguel knew he couldn’t deny him going to school, not after that smile.

“Can daddy dress me?” Cristobal asked, looking at you.

“Daddy is probably busy, honey…”

“I’m not...” Miguel interrupted you and smiled at his son “C’mon… is almost bedtime.” He stood up and helped his son out of the bathtub.

You gave him Cristobal’s towel and once he put him it on, he pulled out his hand at you to help you up. You took his hand, but that touch felt rare. He didn’t like the feeling.

“You’re gonna read to me?” Cristobal asked when he picked him up.

“Sure… which book do you want?” He asked.

“The Rockstar R!” Cristobal said almost at the same time that Miguel whispered another book’s name.

“The Rockstar R?” He asked, confused.

“It’s his favorite of the moment…” Were the first words you told specifically to him in more than a week, but you turned your gaze to your son almost too quickly “Baby, be good for daddy, okay?” The kid nodded and you stood on your toes to kiss his head “Goodnight, baby, see you tomorrow...”

“Goodnight mommy.”

Miguel saw you walk out of the room before leaving Cristobal on his bed to dress him, and when he looked at him, he saw his big brown eyes looking directly at him.

“Why mommy is sad?”

“No, she’s…” Miguel thought for a few seconds. He had to be doing something really wrong if his son could see that something was not completely right with you “She’s tired… she’ll go to sleep. Now… what pjs you want? Iron Man or Captain America?”

“Captain America!”

Miguel dressed his son, took him to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, prayed, and read him a book. All of that took him half an hour because Cristobal used any excuse not to fall asleep and, being away from home for so long, Miguel didn't mind about the kid manipulating him.

Once his son was asleep, he left the room and went downstairs. It was still early and he hadn't eaten. Not that he was particularly happy to have dinner without you again, but he had to do it anyway.

But when he came downstairs, he saw you in the dining room, sitting in the place you usually took, while reading a bunch of brochures and sheets.

“What are you doing?” He asked you at the same moment when you drank from your glass.

“It’s not wine, Miguel, relax.”

But he was not worried about that ‘cause he remembered how you didn’t even drink coffee during your first pregnancy even though the doctor said a cup a day would be fine. He never thought it was wine. You were obsessed with cranberry juice when you were pregnant with Cristobal, so he guessed that obsession came back.

“I meant this…” He said, getting closer and taking a couple of the sheets on the table “What is this?”

“I’m looking for the best school for Cristobal,” You said, leaving your glass aside and the pamphlet you were reading to take another.

“I thought that was something we would talk about,” He said, sitting in the chair next to you and just realizing you already read all of them. Some had a few notes on the edges or some words underlined “I wanted Cristobal to be homeschooled...”

“I always wanted him to be a normal kid.”

He chuckled “Thousands of children are homeschooled in this country and that doesn’t mean they’re not normal...”

“Miguel… our son barely has contact with other kids,” You looked at him “You went to school so did I… I just want him to have the same and then… He saw the school and the playground and I wish you could have seen how his eyes shone. I thought it would be hard, but he wants this… he yearns this...”

Miguel nodded and took some papers. You fell silent as he read the options you were considering.

He knew you were right. Cristobal had no friends and no cousins. He needed to grow up with kids his age and all those papers you had on the table just meant you were considering everything the schools had to offer, including safety, which was what concerned him the most.

“I like this one…” he said after reading everything you had written in all the papers.

“Me too.” You said, “I think it’s the best option.”

“When are you going?”

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

Miguel just nodded and stood up. He didn't expect you to speak to him again, but when you did, he didn't hesitate to turn to you.

“Can we talk?” You asked.

He looked into your eyes. Sure you were tired like he told Cristobal, but there was also a glimpse of sadness in them. He couldn’t stand looking at you that way.

“Of course.” And he sat again.

Tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine even when I lose my mind.

“I’m sorry,” You said. You'd been wanting to talk to him since the day you had that conversation with Nestor, but you hadn't really thought about what to say. You wanted everything to go back to normal, but you knew that, in a way, the situation you were in wasn't completely your fault, so you apologized for the one thing you had to do so “I… should have asked you first. I should have listened to you when you said you were not cheating…”

Michael sighed. He seemed very uptight and to be honest, everyone in the house was the same. There was no way they could have listened to your argument the other night, but it was obvious that they knew something was wrong. For God's sake, you've been sleeping in another room for over a week now.

“Well… I didn’t help that much, did I?” Miguel started “I didn’t say too much these past days…”

“You were mad; I understand it”

“Yeah, I was… at first...” He clarified and sighed again. You knew he was having a hard time admitting that he also had to do with the whole problem. You knew him very well. He didn't like to admit that he was wrong “Then I realized what you meant… I’ve been away from home. I took for granted what I have here; Cristobal, you…”

“And there’s a little bean on the baking…”

“Yeah, let’s not forget the bean...” Miguel smiled making you smile too, “I’m sorry.”

You grabbed his hand on the table “I’m sorry, too.”

You looked at him and he seemed different. It was like the weight on his shoulders had left and, to be honest, you felt the same. It wasn't like you had said everything you wanted to say, but at the same time, it was like no more words were needed to fix the situation. Miguel knew how you felt and you knew how he felt. He knew what he had done wrong and you knew that you had to prove your hypotheses before accusing him of something.

“Come here…” he asked you, pulling your hand. So you got up from your seat and took a few steps towards him. His hands grabbed your hips and made you sit on his lap.

Having him near felt good. You didn’t realize how much you craved his closeness until that moment.

“I love you.” He said after leaving a kiss on your cheek “Sometimes I look at you and I think ‘That’s it… there’s no way I can feel more for her ‘cause if I do my chest is gonna explode’, and then, I prove myself wrong because it never stops growing… I’ll make sure you know that I keep falling in love with you every time I see you…”

What could you say after that? When you suspected Miguel was being unfaithful, you reacted that way, not out of pride. You loved him and it hurt you to even think that he was no longer feeling the same for you... that he was giving to someone else, all that love he once gave to you.

But he never did.

His love, his heart, and all of him... was still there. With you.

“I love you,” You said. Controlling your tears better than you thought were capable of. “Let’s not do this again, please.”

“You have a deal,” Miguel said, kissing your lips. It felt the same as the first time he had kissed you. “You’re gonna sleep with me tonight?” He asked still too close to your lips.

“Yeah, but after dinner ‘cause I’m starving…”

Miguel smiled and palmed your thigh.

“Let’s go...”

Tell me that it's not my fault, tell me that I'm all you want even when I break your heart… Meet me in the afterglow.

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

[imagineredwood]

25. Finding comfort in their scent

These prompts are making me so soft 🥲

Miguel sighed as he leaned back against the headboard, eyes strained, head pounding. He'd been pouring over this paperwork for nearly two hours and he was beat. New land developments came with a lot of permits and contracts and he'd neglected them yesterday when he should've had them done by now.

He had been with you though.

He'd had his day all planned out, Nestor aware of the time schedule and making arrangements.

And then it had all gone out the window when you had called, your voice cheery and hopeful.

"Hey! Do you want to come with me to that farm today? Maybe feed the little goats and get some veggies?"

Did he want to be outside smelling animals and tossing feed to them? No, not really. But he did want to be with you, in any way he could, so yeah. If that was what you wanted, then that was what he wanted too.

And he'd gone. Spent the entire day with you, rifling through the piles to find the perfect bell peppers and holding your bucket while you scattered feed for the little animals. Watching you as you laughed and grinned, interacting with the livestock. And he'd loved every second of it. Whatever this was, it had started as a friendship, and maybe you still thought it to be.

But it was more for Miguel now. He was falling in love with you. He'd tried to convince himself that he wasn't. That he simply enjoyed your company. Eager to have a friend who had no idea who he was or what he did. Just someone who enjoyed spending time with him. He swore he'd never do it again after his divorce, but here he was. Enamored with you and all that you were.

He looked over to the side of the bed, down at the cardigan you had bought him at the market attached to the farm. He smiled and grabbed it, holding it in his hands as he sat there before lifting it up to get a better look at it. The motion wafted your scent towards him and he took it in, closing his eyes as he felt it soothe him.

You had clutched it to your chest the entire time you both had walked around, not wanting to drop it or put it in the basket with the produce. Now it smelled just like you, and Miguel chuckled at himself as the thought crossed his mind that maybe he wouldn't wear it, so it would continue to smell like you.

And he knew then that he was done for. He dropped the gift down into his lap and reached for his phone, hoping that he wouldn't wake you. The line rang twice and he smiled as soon as your voice came through.

"Hey."

"Hey. What are you doing tomorrow?"

General taglist (tagged in all work)

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @woahitslucyylu @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @destynelseclipsa @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @all-the-boys-to-the-yard @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95

@cruzwalters @myakai13 l @lyly00 @Zsakaystacks17 @cole-winchester @alexxavicry @savagemickey03 @fanfic-n-tabulous @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady @choochoo284 @whitetxilwxlf @ravennaortiz @flowercrowns-goodvibes

Mayans MC taglist 

@dazzledamazon  @briana-mishell24 @wrcn9fvlcver @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @appropriate-writers-name @blessedboo @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @redpoodlern @myakai13 @cruzwalters @po3ticb3auty @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous @carma-fanficaddict