#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

#sons of anarchy #mayans mc #ez reyes #angel reyes #juice ortiz #manny mayans mc #jax teller #bishop losa #jax teller x reader #angel reyes x reader #ez reyes x reader #bishop losa x reader #manny x reader #juice ortiz x reader #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #group hcs #headcannons #headcanons #samcro

[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

#thg #saturnville #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x black reader #peter parker x black reader #shuri x black reader #steve rogers x black reader #angel reyes x black reader #ez reyes x black reader #rio x black reader #jamie fraser x black reader #peter parker x reader #shuri x reader #rio x reader #ez reyes x reader #angel reyes x reader #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black reader

[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.”

#black reader #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #mayans mc #angel reyes #angel reyes x black!reader #erik killmonger #miguel galindo x reader #erik kilmonger x reader

[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.

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

[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 ||

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

[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.

#If I'm gonna have to write for him I'm not gonna make it happy lmfaoooo #Mayans mc #mayans fx #Mayans mc fanfiction #Miguel galindo #Miguel galindo x reader #Miguel galindo x you #X reader #X reader fic #my writing #Drabblesmc #Fanfiction

[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!

#ted lasso x reader #roy kent x reader #jamie tartt x reader #rebecca welton x reader #keeley jones x reader #angel reyes x reader #ez reyes x reader #coco cruz x reader #miguel galindo x reader #bishop losa x reader #jax teller x reader #juice ortiz x reader #happy lowman x reader #chibs telford x reader #tig trager x reader #mayans mc x reader #soa x reader #ted lasso imagine #mayans mc imagine #soa imagine #richard montlaur x reader #sam obisanya x reader #isaac mcadoo x reader #nestor oceteva x reader #opie winston x reader #herman kozik x reader #hank loza x reader #gilly lopez x reader #dani rojas x reader #my writing

[whorekneecentral]

kinktober - day 16: free use // m.g

Miguel Galindo x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: sexual contracts, it's giving 50 shades for a second, free use, CNC, penetrative sex, oral (m!receiving), cockwarming, dom/sub elements, little bit of pool time fun. 

Word Count: 1,936

Author’s Note: no one else fit this prompt like daddy miguel - this one’s for my twin whore @halsteadssneakylink <3 // forgive me for any inconsistencies, I have yet to watch the new season LOL /// + not proof read, hoping for the best rn sorry! 

kinktober 2022 masterlist

--- 

Miguel was a business man through and through, he strikes up a deal that benefits the both of you. 

The stack of papers sat in front of you, as did he. Intimidating as always. 

“Do you understand what you're signing? You’re a smart girl, I'd imagine you do.” Miguel asks, his arms folded across his chest as he sits on the edge of the desk in front of you. 

You nod, looking up at him. “I do, it's clear enough.” 

“Enough ?” His voice carries a note of surprise. “You can have someone look it over if you’d-” “No!” You cut him off, earning a smile from your boss. 

You worked for Miguel, you doubled as his accountant but also his secretary. Things had been tough for him lately, his mother’s passing and the whole Emily fiasco. He was left alone in a big house and no one to fill it. 

The contract was something he thought would work best for both of you. He knew you weren’t happy where you were living and he had the house to himself so why not let you move in? 

It stated so in the contract. 

You’d move in and have your own room of your choosing. 

Come and go as you please as long as it’s not during work hours (which was understandable, he was still paying you to work even though you were going to be living there.) 

You could go on dates, fuck who you want but they were NOT, by any circumstances, allowed back at the house. 

And to top it all off, there was one more little thing Miguel added in there; free use of you. 

Miguel could use you whenever and wherever he wanted as long as you two were home. 

“I understand.” You tell him, taking the pen he was offering to you. The black ink ran smoothly across the paper as you signed your name on the dotted line. 

--- 

It had been a few days since you moved in. Your room was on the opposite end of the hallway from Miguel, he had ensured you settled in properly. He sent some of his guys to help you bring your stuff and help you move or replace anything you wanted too in your room. 

Miguel had even gone as far as taking you out to dinner the first night, the two of you getting to know each other in a little less of a professional capacity. 

It was a Sunday morning, Miguel had woken up with the intention of going for a run. The house was quiet, it was barely 5:30 when he came down to the kitchen. There’s a pot of coffee in the coffee maker and the backdoor leading out to the pool and yard was opened. 

Surely he didn’t leave it open last night. 

He cautiously makes his way over, peeking around the corner. Your back was turned to him, arms resting over the edge of the pool as you stared off into the distance, watching the rising sun. 

The black bikini didn’t cover much, the bottoms barely covered your ass and the top was being held in place by the thin string tied behind your back

“Good morning,” he calls, stepping out. You look back over your shoulder, smiling. “Morning,” you say, swimming over to where he sat, rolling his pants up before dropping his legs down into the cold water. 

“I wasn’t loud, was I? I hope I didn’t wake up.” You say, sipping on the mug of coffee you had left on the edge. 

Miguel tucks a piece of your wet hair behind your ear, “I didn’t know you were up until I saw the coffee in the pot.” 

You smile, humming. “Felt like a morning swim, it’s nice out.” You tell him and Miguel’s brows furrow. “Sweetheart, the water is freezing.” 

Shrugging, you shift to stand between his legs, facing him. Your wet and very cold arms resting on his thighs, leaving behind a wet print on his pants. “I was going for a run, you know.” He says, eyeing the wet part of his pants. 

Your lips pressed together, “oops?” You smile, swimming away from him before he could grab your arm. “Too slow, Miguel. Guess you’ll have to get in if you want to catch me.” You bite back a smile. 

Miguel rolls his eyes, “guess you're right.” He says, pulling his shirt off before getting in. “Fuck!” He shivers, “couldn't you have waited for the sun to come up so it wouldn't be so cold?” 

“You’re rich, I'm just surprised it’s not a heated pool.” 

“Zoning issue, said it would require some gas line or something.” Miguel shrugs, “I think it’s bullshit but whatever.” 

The conversation had you distracted, you hadn’t even noticed when Miguel backed you into a corner of the pool, his hands wandering down to rest on your ass. “You do know my guys wander out here, right?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask him, confused. 

His hands sliding back up your back, fingers pulling on the knot behind your back and neck. “This doesn’t cover much.” He hums, watching as the black fabric floats through the water. 

“Yeah, can’t really do that when I don’t have it on, Miguel.” 

“Okay smartass,” he chuckles, turning you around so your back is to his chest. Once again, you feel his hands move, one coming up to rest on your tit and the other slipping down the front of your bikini bottoms. 

Your head falls back onto his shoulder when you feel his fingers press to your clit. He smiles to himself, fingers moving in slow circles. “Fuck- please Miguel.” 

“Please what?” He says, pulling his hand away. You whimper at the loss of his touch but willingly spread your legs for him when he reaches between them. 

“Eager?” He asks, your bikini bottoms pulled to the side. 

“Stop it,” you quip, smiling a bit. 

“Fine.” Miguel moves his hand away, getting out of the pool. You turn and look at the man. “What just-” “You said stop.” He gives you a rather passive aggressive smile and walks off into the house. 

“You know that’s not what I meant!” You shout after him, rolling your eyes. 

--- 

The next few days had been strictly professional. You and Miguel worked as normal, you went about your business and he did his. He had disappeared late last night, you were on the couch doing some work when he left. 

Nestor was still at the house, which struck you as odd because wherever Miguel was, Nestor wasn't far off. 

You asked Nestor where Miguel was off too and he simply said he wasn't sure. 

Absolute bullshit but whatever. 

You were in the kitchen when he came home the next morning. Nestor finds you in there, “morning y/n, boss wants you in the office.” He tells you, letting you step past him and walks down the steps towards Miguel’s office. 

“Mr. Galindo,” you call, walking in. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Miguel asks, looking up from the papers on his desk. Even though he had disappeared last night and arrived back less than an hour ago, he looked like he had gotten a full eight hours of sleep and was well put together. 

“Okay, Miguel. What do you need?” 

“Need I remind you that you still work here ?” 

You glance at your phone, “it’s not 10 yet.” 

Miguel rolls his eyes, waving for you to come over to the desk. You peek over at the papers, “is that for the merger ?” You ask, looking at the pages better now. 

“That’s not why I called you over here.” He says. “So why did you call me in here? I was about to eat something.” 

“I’ll take you out for breakfast later, come keep me warm.” He tells you, rolling back his chair a bit. Your brows furrow and then the dots connect. 

“Oh!” You can’t help the giggle that slips past your lips. You walk over and are about to pull your skirt up to sit on his lap but he stops you, glancing down at the floor. “You want me on.. the floor?” 

“Mhm hm,” he says, going back to his paperwork. You roll your eyes at his nonchalant behaviour and yet, you sink to the floor, on your knees as you undo his belt. 

Miguel stops and watches you, his eyes fixed on you as you take his cock in your mouth. He reaches down and tucks a stand on your hair behind your ear; an action you notice he does often. 

He leaves you on your knees for a while, shifting his hips up a bit every once in a while. He pulls you off him every now and again, letting you catch your breath before pulling you back. 

Right now was one of those moments. You looked up at him, tear eyed and mouth sore from how long you had been there. “Can I get up now?” You ask quietly. 

“Why?” He asks, not bothering to look down. 

“My knees hurt.” You tell him, an arm over his thigh, your cheek resting on your arm as you look up at him. Miguel glances down and seems to remember the hardwood floors in his office. He hums, pulling you up by your arm.  

Miguel turns you, pushing you to bend over his desk. He pushes your skirt up, the navy blue fabric bunched at your hips. He can’t help but notice the wet spot on your panties. “Can't suck cock without getting wet?” He asks you, pulling your panties down, letting it pool around your ankles. 

You hum, satisfied when he lets you sink down onto him. 

Your back to his chest, Miguel lets you get used to the feeling whilst his hands move down to rub on your bruised knees. “See, I’m not mean.” He mumbles into your shoulder, making you smile. His hand slides back up, resting on your thigh for the time being, attempting to work on his paperwork but with the way you were squeezing around him, focusing was impossible. 

Miguel’s got his hand between your legs now, rubbing slow circles on your clit as your head drops back onto his shoulder. He was about to say something but there's a knock on the wall and Nestor walks in. 

Nestor pauses when he sees you on Miguel’s lap. The desk was blocking you two but it was clear what was happening. “Sorry, um- what car did you want serviced ?” 

“The rolls,” Miguel says and Nestor takes the hint, saying okay and leaving the office. 

Miguel gets you to stand, bending you over the desk as he fucks you. A hand digging into your hip as his hips hit into you with each thrust. “You feel so fucking good,” he mumbles, his hand reaching for your hair to pull you up. 

Your back is pressed to his chest as his arm wraps around your waist, hand reaching down to play with your clit. 

“Fuck- Miguel please,” 

“Please what?” 

“Need to cum.” 

“So cum, baby.” 

Soon enough, you're back in the chair with Miguel. His arms wrapped around you as you lay back on his chest. His hand rubs over your side. “Go get cleaned up, baby. I left something in your closet for you, put it on and I’ll take you for lunch.”

He nudges you to stand, pulling your skirt back down. “What happened to breakfast?” 

“It’s noon, sweetheart. Lunch time.” He says, smacking your ass as you walk off. 

---

taglist: @timetoracewrites @diorleclerc @lickmeleclerc @daydreamingleclerc @halsteadssneakylink @Mashtonbunny @Mashton_Bunny @amsofftrack @ads-skywalker-leclerc  @allisonxf1 @making-it-big @ruledchaos @skarlettmikaelson @charles-dimple @miniminescapist @venuschicc  @romanjbittenbinder​  @earfquak3  @hypermess @choppedroadcolorapricot @ellalovesvettel​  @deviltsunoda​ @jeannebmnt​ @pedrohoe04​ @damianodavidhands @elegantleclerc @lostinketterdam​ @dragon-of-winterfell​ @givemeasainz​ @princessbetsy123-blog​ @logischeroktopus​  @wonderwoman292​ @valkyrie418​ @batmanslittlelover​ @d0ntjudgemy50shades​ @ricsaigaslec​ @ferrarifwendvale​  @ellabellabus07​ @lovelytsunoda​ @bisexual-desi​ @freddoneptune​ @crookedcreationstudent @oultonparks​ @sebastchin​ @starlightleclerc​ @perfectsublimekid​@fishtankcleaner1000 @strawberrypaul​ @defnotsobbing​ @ifancycharlesleclerc​ @angstyturtlewitch​ @apocalumpse​ @molliemoo3​ @pleasedontfollowimlost @sk8jeon @zig-zzag​ @supertrashheropasta @sainz-leclerc​ @rhaeszn @coffeehurricanes​ @symmi​ @angeluvvv​ @somanyflippingbooks​ @simpforpierre​ @hopelessluvrs​ @user143859 @chilisainz55​ @takktolya​ @anonymip​ @beepbeepanna​ @em-idk-123​ @shiftingwh0r3​ @mimisshhrri111 @justmeandmyfuckeduplife​ @lewisthoughts @Bouncyballs001 @carronyaflowers​ @sugarmelonwater​ @buendiabebeta​

#kinktober - anj's version #kinktober 2022 #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo smut

[imagineredwood]

"Enjoying the fruit?"

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel Galindo x female reader

Word count: 1.1K

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

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

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

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

Miguel loved you in dresses. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was until you had tried to leave him. 

It had been a small fight. Simple really. 

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

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

And boy had it made him angry. 

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

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

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

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

Placed onto your ankle while you slept.

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

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

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

"Enjoying the fruit?"

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

"What's the matter?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I miss swimming."

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

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

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

"This is your last chance."

General taglist

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

Mayans MC taglist

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

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

Miguel taglist

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

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

[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.

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

[hennyjwrites]

Hi! Just found your Miguel fics and omg I’m in love. I’d love to request a fic!

Character would be Miguel Galindo

Smut

Prompt is: “One more. Just give me one more.” Because all I can see is Miguel making the reader have an orgasm or two and them being so strong then she begs “no more” but he tells her “One more. Just give me one more.”

Anyways, thanks and if you don’t want to or can’t write it I completely understand. Thanks so much.

Miguel made sure you couldn’t scoot away from him. His grip on your hips, kept you in place as he thrusted into you at a pace that only he could give you.

“M-Miguel.” You moaned out, feeling your stomach cramp in pleasure. Cream coated his dick, from the repeated orgasms he’s given you. Two orgasms for you and not one from him. “I can't take it.” Your back arched against him.

Miguel chuckled at your involuntary movements. “Cmon mi vida, one more. Cum on my dick one more time.” He squeezed your breast, before tweaking with your nipples. The actions caused your already sensitive body to jolt against him. Miguel's thrust became more targeted towards your sweet spot. Miguel hushed you as your moans became more high pitched. “Just one more.” He whispered in your ear. His fingers on your clit brought you closer towards an orgasm.

Your legs shook, as your orgasm came squirting out. Your vision was blurry as the pleasure overtook you. Miguel’s need to keep thrusting kept you in an orgasmic state. He moaned into your neck as he came inside you.

Both of you were breathing heavily. Miguel was the first to pull out of his orgasmic state. He stared down at your blissed out look and couldn’t help but to start thrusting inside you again. You whimper and try to pull away. “Miguel, you have to give your speech.” You cried hearing his name being announced. You gripped the ends of the table Miguel had you laying across as you slightly screamed when his pace quickened. He was trying to give you another orgasm before he went back out to socialize.

“Oh mi vida, this is my event. They can wait until I’m done pleasing my wife.”

#black reader #mayans mc #mayans smut #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black reader #miguel galindo smut

[pascalispretty]

The Poetry of the Body: Two

Miguel Galindo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3070

Warnings: discussions of pregnancy, fainting, references to sex/implied sex, implied age gap, hurt/comfort vibes, 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, and @bullet-prooflove for her Nestor advice. Title of the fic is from ’La llama doble. Amor y erotismo’ by Octavio Paz. Title of the chapter comes from 'Pedro Paramo' by Juan Rulfo, full quote on ao3. Written to fulfil the 'don't worry, I'll take good care of you' square for @storiesofsvu2-0 / @storiesofsvu's bingo! (ao3)

Two: The Pure Murmuring of Life (ao3)

It’s one of those days where nothing seems to go right. Miguel rose early in order to attend to some business south of the border, leaving you to wake up alone. Your whole body aches – another thing you blame Miguel for. Having sex on the kitchen floor certainly seemed like a thrilling idea last night, but you were paying the price for it today.

The day only gets worse once you shower and dress, and make your way downstairs. Any notion you have about taking Cristóbal out for breakfast abruptly shatters the moment you hear him screaming, a harried-looking Maria attempting to reason with him in Spanish. Still in his pyjamas, your son’s small body is wracked with sobs at the injustice of not being allowed to climb into the dryer and go for a spin. 

It takes what feels like hours to soothe him, and it’s closer to lunchtime by the time he’s finally calm enough for Maria to take him upstairs and dress him. You stay downstairs, sitting on the couch to talk to Nestor. Starving, sore, and head pounding, you’re relieved to have a moment of calm. 

“I don’t want to stay out for long; I just need to get out of the house. Is there enough security still here?” You have no concept of how many men have gone south with Miguel, but the fact that he left Nestor here tells you he’s not expecting any trouble. Nestor stands by the arm of the couch and nods. 

“More than enough to keep a detail at the house while we’re gone. I’ll ask Paco to bring the car around.” He takes his phone out and begins tapping out a message, and even the sound of his phone keyboard clicking makes you rub your temples. Maybe you should take some ibuprofen before you head out. You’re so hungry you feel sick; a granola bar wouldn’t be a bad idea either. 

Before you can do anything, you hear footsteps on the stairs again. Cristóbal is all smiles when he comes back downstairs, finally dressed and ready to go. He beams when he notices you on the couch and twists in Maria’s arms to reach out for you. 

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you ready?” You ask him, standing up quickly. 

It’s a mistake. 

Your vision blurs. The room swims in front of you, and you’re only vaguely aware of your knees buckling before everything goes dark. 

Sounds come back to you first. Cristóbal is crying again, but he sounds oddly muffled. You’re too disoriented even to try opening your eyes. Instead, you focus on your breathing. 

You’re on the floor, that becomes apparent quickly. The wood is pleasantly cool against your forehead. You don’t know how you ended up down here, but you try not to think too hard about it. After a long pause, you gingerly open your eyes. 

It takes a moment for you to be able to focus on anything. The first thing you do see clearly is Nestor, kneeling beside your head. He has your wrist in his hand, you realise, his fingers resting over your pulse point. He must have caught you before you fell, lowered you onto the floor. An intense feeling of déjà vu sweeps over you; you’ve been in this exact position before. 

The fainting was the first real sign that something was wrong last time. 

You can vividly remember waking up on the kitchen floor to Miguel yelling at someone to bring the car around. Breakfast had been abruptly abandoned, the bacon smouldering alarmingly on the stove. You had only found out you were pregnant a week prior and the fainting spell had been written off as the result of your body simply adjusting to the new life growing inside it. 

Then the vomiting started. You lost weight at a rate that alarmed your doctors, who kept you in for a flurry of tests. Hyperemesis gravidarum had been the official diagnosis; morning sickness so severe that you could barely keep water down on some days. Between the dizziness and the nausea, you had hardly left the house until after your son was born. 

As soon as you realise that you fainted, you know that you’re pregnant again. 

You stopped taking your birth control months ago, but your periods had stayed irregular; you have no idea how late you actually are. The reality of it hits you all at once, but you do your best to choke it back. Cristóbal is sobbing in Maria’s arms, desperately wailing for you, and you raise your head slightly. You need to take care of him first. 

“It’s okay, baby, Mama’s okay. Come here,” you tell him. Nestor lets go of your wrist as you shift on the floor, trying to make yourself marginally more comfortable on the wood. Maria brings Cristóbal closer, eventually setting him down so he can toddle over to you. 

“Do you want me to help you up onto the couch?” Nestor asks quietly, before your son can reach you. Cristóbal crawls into your arms, his cheeks damp as he presses his face against your collarbone. 

“No, thank you. I just need to stay here for a minute.” You can’t fall again if you’re already on the floor. Nestor nods, wordlessly grabbing a cushion for you to rest your head on as he stands back up to his full height. In your arms, Cristóbal has settled slightly, though his voice is still thick with tears. 

“Mama fell,” he says plaintively, and your heart swells. 

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. Did I scare you? I’m okay, Mama’s okay,” you whisper against his warm forehead, breathing in the smell of his hair. You rest your head on the cushion and look up to see Nestor and Maria sharing a meaningful glance. Cristóbal’s little fists grab handfuls of your hair, but you barely feel the pressure on your scalp. You know what that look is about. 

“Don’t tell Miguel.” It comes out harsher than you mean it to. Nestor and Maria exchange another look, before Nestor sighs. 

“Mikey’ll want to know.” 

“And he will. I’ll tell him myself when he comes home tonight.” You hold Cristóbal a little tighter, rubbing his back. The last thing you want to do right now is argue with Nestor, but you can’t back down. “Please, Nestor. I’ll tell him tonight.” 

He looks unconvinced; it’s hard to convey how serious you’re being while you’re lying on the floor. 

“Maria, would you mind making Cristóbal something for lunch? I don’t think we’ll be able to go out today after all.” To your relief, she nods and walks towards the kitchen. One less person to deal with right now. The mention of food makes Cristóbal squirm in your arms so you let him go, watching him toddle off to the kitchen to ‘help’ Maria. Gingerly, you start to try to shift into a sitting position. Nestor notices, crouching back down automatically in case you faint again. 

You manage to sit yourself up, your back resting against the couch as you take several deep breaths. All of this would be so much easier if Miguel was home. He grew up with housekeepers and nannies and security guards; he’s infinitely more at ease issuing them with orders than you are. Even Nestor, occupying that liminal space between employee and childhood best friend, does what Miguel tells him to do. 

Orders don’t come naturally to you. Especially not now, when your head is a whirlwind of different emotions and needs, all pulling your attention in separate directions. Miguel would take care of everything if he were here, having conversations that need to be had and making appointments that need to be made. But you have no idea where he is or when he’ll be home, so it’s up to you. 

“Nestor,” you start, swallowing thickly. “I need you and Maria not to say anything to Miguel yet.” 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you know I have to tell Mikey.” Him calling you ma’am isn’t a good sign. Miguel had half-stepped into the role of older brother for him since he was a teenager; you aren’t going to overcome more than twenty years of loyalty. He’ll never listen to you over Miguel. 

“If you tell Miguel I fainted, he will want to know why. And he’ll know why, the same way that I’m sure you do. Miguel will figure it out the same way you did.” You know in your gut that Nestor knows. The same intense déjà vu that struck you must have hit him too; an echo of the six long months where he hardly left your side when Miguel wasn’t around. It had been a sign of how concerned Miguel really was about you, leaving his most trusted lieutenant to watch over you and the life inside you. 

“...Mikey doesn’t know?” Nestor asks eventually, taking a seat on the coffee table - still close enough to catch you if you faint again. You’ll mention it to Miguel later, how seamlessly Nestor has fallen back into old protocols. 

“No. I don’t even know yet, not for sure. But I don’t want him to find out like this, Nestor; hundreds of miles away, because something bad happened. Let me tell him myself tonight, so he can celebrate.” You watch him think it over, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Eventually, he nods, and you sigh in relief. 

The two of you negotiate a little more - he’ll talk to Maria, he’ll do his best to make sure Miguel comes home at a reasonable hour tonight on a security pretext, you absolutely promise that you’ll tell your husband that the fainting has started again - and he helps you up onto the couch before he leaves. 

You settle back onto the couch, closing your eyes as you get comfortable. From experience, you know you’ll need to stay put for an hour or so. The sound of Cristóbal’s uneven footsteps makes you open your eyes again as he runs up to the couch, his stuffed rabbit in his hand. 

“It’s ‘kay, Mama. Make feel better.” He thrusts the stuffed rabbit at you, and you tuck it into the crook of your arm. Another powerful wave of emotion washes over you, and you will yourself not to cry; you don’t want your son to think his sweet gesture has upset you. 

“Oh baby, thank you.” You whisper, stroking Cristóbal’s curls gently. “You know, Daddy had a brother too. That’s who you’re named after.” Your son brightens at the mention of his father, babbling the word ‘daddy’ happily back to you, looking around for Miguel. “No, Daddy’s not home yet, sweetheart. But we’ll have a nice surprise for him when he comes back, won’t we?” 

****

You watch anxiously from the kitchen window as the cars are let through the gate, the convoy your husband took south arriving home seemingly without incident. Certainly, there’s no sign that Miguel came home in a panic, word having reached him of what happened today. 

Since your fainting this afternoon, you’ve been relatively busy. Maria had kept Cristóbal occupied while you rested on the couch, planning your evening, and Nestor had gone out for the items you’d requested. You’d briefly wondered why he’d bothered to go himself for steak and sparkling grape juice, until he returned from town with two boxes of pregnancy tests stashed among the groceries. 

You really needed to tell Miguel to give him a raise. 

By the time Miguel walks through the door, everything is ready. You smooth your hands down your dress, stepping out of the kitchen to greet him. 

“Hi baby,” he starts, his eyes widening slightly once he gets a good look at you. “Did we have dinner plans?” You’re overdressed for dinner at home, a green dress that clings in all the right places. He kisses you chastely in greeting, his hand coming to rest at the small of your back.

“No, I made us dinner. I thought you might need it, after your day.” You lead him by the hand to the table on the veranda outside. The fire and torches are lit, casting everything in a soft golden light, and music is playing softly from the speakers. 

“Valentine’s Day was last month. Or is this you angling for a repeat of last night?” He asks teasingly, the fingers of his free hand finding the bruise he’d left on your wrist when he pinned you to the floor. 

“Maybe.” He humours you, especially when he realises you’ve made him filet mignon, so rare that the knife glides through the meat with almost no resistance. That, and the pinot noir you’d opened for him, provide an excellent distraction. He doesn’t question why you’re drinking a different wine - which isn’t wine at all, but sparkling grape juice you’d decanted into an empty bottle - or eating a blander meal than his own. 

The conversation throughout dinner is light; he doesn’t offer any details about what he was doing south of the border, and you don’t ask. You want the other world to be as far away from you as possible tonight. The mains finished, you tell him to stay put while you clear the table and fetch dessert. 

You uncork the champagne in the kitchen and sink the bottle into the waiting bucket of ice. For a moment you wish you could take a sip, just to steady your nerves. From the cabinet, you fetch a single champagne flute, one of the Villeroy & Boch set that had been a wedding gift. You take the stem between two fingers and turn it so the base rests in your palm, allowing you to carry it at the same time as the stainless-steel bucket. 

“I know that champagne is more of an apéritif than a digestif, but it seemed more appropriate for the topic.” You tell Miguel once you’re back in earshot. He turns to look at you, a faint smile playing around his lips. The firelight suits him; between the shadows and the golden wash of light, he looks like an oil painting—a study of some long-ago king, all easy authority and charm. 

“What’s the topic?” He asks, leaning back in his chair so he can watch you. 

“Celebrations,” you tell him, pouring the champagne for him. “It’ll be yours and Cristóbal’s birthdays next month.” It had felt like it meant something when Cristóbal was born just days before Miguel’s own birthday in April - the one silver lining to having to deliver him early. Instead of returning to your own chair, you sit in Miguel’s lap. His free hand comes up to your waist instinctively, holding you close while he reaches for the glass. 

“Three already,” Miguel says, taking a sip of his champagne. You drape your arm over Miguel’s broad shoulders, taking a moment just to savour the closeness. 

“I know.” Your fingers find their way into Miguel’s hair, combing through the thick black curls. He relaxes under you, a long sigh escaping him. He takes another sip of champagne and frowns. 

“You’re not having one?” Miguel turns his head to look at you. “Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?” His tone is teasing, and he playfully pinches your side. His fingers land over a ticklish spot, and you giggle in spite of yourself. 

“No. I can’t have one.” You bite your lip, waiting for him to connect the dots. “That’s the other thing we need to celebrate.” Miguel’s lovely dark eyes search your face, his expression softening. 

“Really?” He asks, and you nod. 

“I took the test today. I still need to go to the doctor’s to confirm but-” Whatever else you might say is cut off by the kiss Miguel gives you. He pulls you even closer to him, his champagne glass abandoned on the table so he can wrap his arms fully around you. 

“Te quiero mucho, mi amor,” he murmurs between kisses. For the first time all day, you can relax and just let your emotions wash over you. You’re having another baby; it’s a thrilling and frightening prospect all at once. 

“I love you too.” You rest your cheek against his shoulder as he pulls away slightly to take another sip of his champagne. You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there in contented silence. The fire has dipped low, and the breeze rolling in off the hills makes you shiver in your thin dress. Miguel is immediately on alert, setting his empty glass down and looking at you with concern. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Miguel asks, rubbing your arm. The pressure is just slightly too much on your sore skin, and you wince. “Baby?” He tugs the short sleeve of your dress up, exposing the already-forming bruises you had acquired earlier. 

“Oh. That was my first clue I was pregnant again; I fainted this afternoon. Nestor caught me.” You try to keep the worry out of your voice, stroking your fingers down his forearm. Miguel fixes you with a searching look, those beautiful dark eyes carefully searching your face. 

“How are you feeling now?” He asks. You know that tone; it’s one that brooks no argument, allows for no white lies. 

“Physically? Fine. A little tender, maybe.” You begin, but Miguel’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Emotionally? I don’t know. Happy, yes. Scared.” Your voice breaks a little on the last sentence. Miguel smooths a hand over your hair, adjusting you on his lap. 

“We know what to expect this time. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” You turn your head into his shoulder, trying not to ruin the celebratory mood. For a long moment, you sit there like that, Miguel’s hand running soothingly down your back. Even pressed against him like this, you shiver again. 

“Let's get you inside.” Miguel lets you go, and you slide reluctantly off his lap. 

“What about the champagne?” 

“I’ll take care of the champagne. You take care of you. You said you were feeling fine physically?” He asks, draining what’s left of his glass. You nod, and he grins, stepping closer to you. There’s barely an inch of space between your bodies, and he catches your chin between his finger and thumb, tilting your face up to look at him.  

“Go and get yourself into bed. And then I’ll see what I can do to take care of you.”

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @burningtacozombie @ben-c-group-therapy @90sisthenew80s @beccabarba

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

[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 ||

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo masterlist #miguel galindo fanfiction #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc fanfiction #miguel galindo x female reader

[blackmissfrizzle]

I’ll Take Your Man(s)- 11

Part 10

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Characters: Miguel Galindo x black!reader, EZ Reyes x black!reader

Summary: You become aware of how bad Miguel is spiraling. 

Warnings: TW: Suicide, Insensitivity/ Malice towards suicide

It was a Saturday morning and you had absolutely nothing to do. All your schoolwork was done, your boss forbade anyone from working on the weekend, and EZ was out with the club. So, you decided to give some people a visit.

If it weren’t for the key EZ made you then you wouldn’t be inside of his dad’s house. Felipe’s was quite uneventful. Whatever was going on, he was still in his deep depression. Unlike Angel, you didn’t know what was going on. The brothers did, but they refused to speak to you about it. There were too many secrets from everyone.

After Felipe’s, you broke into Angel’s place. His place was just as messy as his dad’s. You tried to empathize with him, but the loss of a child was so much different than the loss of a parent. Especially a child he never got to meet. In your honest opinion, he was doing a pretty good job holding up. He slept around before the baby. You just wished he figured out how to use condoms as you passed the box full of them. These dudes act like STIs don’t exist.

Finally, during your afternoon, you had contact with someone. You went to Marcus’ house to bring him some cookies you baked the night before. As you two talked two kids ran by, one boy and one girl. The only child he had was his daughter.

“You adopted?” You furrowed your brows. Upon further inspection, you could tell the boy had Down Syndrome.

God bless Santi, Marcus thought. The young boy and Tessa came to talk to you. This gave him time to think of a lie.

As the kids talked, you kept an eye on Marcus. He was hiding something and you wouldn’t let up.

Finally, the kids went to go play a game, which gave you time to drill Marcus.

“It’s none of your concern, YN.” Marcus snapped. Honestly, it wasn’t out of loyalty to Miguel that kept him from telling the truth. It was shame. Working for a cartel boss came with a lot of dirty deeds, but watching Miguel kill Paco over his mother’s death was something that shook him. Maybe it was old age or maybe he was finally getting a conscious. Either way he didn’t want you to look at him differently.

But then it hit him, you were the answer. Not Emily, not Monserrat, not some crazy revenge plan, but you. The most peaceful Miguel has been when he was with you. After your visits, he wasn’t as depressed. There was light at the end of the tunnel.

“He’s Paco’s son.”

“Oh, you’re just babysitting. Why didn’t you just say that?” Why was everyone being so weird?

Marcus shook his head. “We took him in.”

“What went down?” Nothing during your visits with Miguel alerted you of something going down. Quite frankly the Galindo cartel seemed to not to be as active as before.

“Miguel.” Marcus whispered. “Miguel shot him.”

You shook your head. Paco was in the close circle of guards. There’s no way Miguel would kill him.

“He did.” Marcus had no one to talk to about this. His wife was a no go and Nestor was out of the question, and Bishop had his own shit to deal with. You gave him the perfect opportunity to let this out. “He blamed Paco for Dita being able to get away. He’s unhinged, princesa.” Marcus contemplated if he should say more. Hell, he let out some already, might as well go all the way. “He killed Dita’s therapist.”

No way any of this could be true. You would know if something like this would have happened. “Nah, Miguel wouldn’t have. He’s grief stricken, but he wouldn’t go that far.”

Izzy called Marcus to join her and the kids for lunch. “You know it is.” He stood up and squeezed your shoulder. “He just knows how to hide it around you. Talk to him. At this point, only you can save him.”

After that conversation, it was like you were a zombie. You were just going through the motions of the day, but somehow that had you at the therapist’s office.

“Hi, I wanted to know if Dr. Alma was taking in any new patients.”

The receptionist gave you a sad smile. “Unfortunately, she’s not and probably not for a while. She’s missing.”

The young woman could barely control herself. This told you that the therapist had to be “missing” for quite some time.

You gave her your prayers and walked back to your car. Marcus was right. People in this town don’t go missing. They either leave or they got killed and the latter happened to Dita’s therapist. Were you so enraptured in your relationship that you didn’t notice Miguel’s warning signs? Didn’t matter now, but you were gonna fix all of that.

Miguel didn’t go out much these days, so you had to go to his house which meant Emily was there too. What you didn’t expect was her annoying little sister. Both of them thought you were the other woman and were giving you a hard time when you requested to see Miguel.

“If I was the mistress, I would be fucking on your bed you share with your husband, Emily. This is a business call anyway or I wouldn’t have come. Trust, I did not want to see your face.”

“YN?” Miguel came out of his office. You were a most welcomed sight. Seeing you in his kitchen made it seem like you belong there, like this should be your home instead of some RV parked in a scrap yard.

“I needed help on a case. I was wondering if I could ger your opinion?”

“Of course.” Miguel ignored Erin’s mean mug and Emily’s displeasure. The only happiness that mattered was yours and his son’s.

Even his office was different. Everything in the house felt cold. You thought it was because of Emily, but Miguel was the cause of it too. He lost his flame when his mother died.

“What can I help you with?” Miguel leaned against his desk and held your hand. Reyes didn’t know what gift he had.

“I actually lied about work, so your wife and her chihuahua of a guard dog could leave me alone.”

Miguel couldn’t stop laughing. Leave it to you to make him have his first real laugh in a while. “Then what is it about?”

“Um, did you know that Marcus is taking care of Paco’s kid?”

Miguel dropped your hand and sat behind his chair. Not the conversation he was looking for. “Someone’s running their mouth.”

“I went to visit and saw the kid. Do you know he has Down Syndrome?”

“Tragic, but none of my business.” Miguel was the definition of indifference. He could feel nothing for the man who was supposed to protect his mother.

Wow. Even with all your conversations, you never saw this side of Miguel. This was the monster EZ warned you about. “None of your business that you turned an innocent child into an orphan?”

“YN, none of this concerns you. Drop it.”

Oh, Miguel Galindo had you fucked up. You weren’t one of his soldiers he could order around, and you weren’t Emily. “Fuck no! You’re out here murdering people! For what? So, you can have someone to blame? There’s no one to blame! Dita committed suicide!”

Miguel slammed the table causing papers to fly. “Watch your mouth!”

“Or what?” You stepped to him toe to toe. “You gonna shoot me and bury me in the desert?! Miguel Galindo can’t get his way, so he kills to get it!”

Miguel had too much love and respect for you to put his hands on you, but God wasn’t he tempted. “You are not my wife! You are not anyone to me! You’re just a slut that opens her legs for married men. Therefore, your opinion is irrelevant. And I suggest you get your nose out of business that you shouldn’t be in. Now go back to your convict and play house.”

One thing you refused to do is cry. That man can never know that he put a chink in your armor, but he is gonna feel this fury.

You threw a punch so powerful that it made Miguel go to his knees. “Remember I’m the slut you were willing to leave your wife for and you only had a sample. Don’t worry, when you off yourself like your mother I won’t be in your business either.”

Miguel was too stunned to speak. All he did was watch you walk out for a second time, breaking his heart.

Again, Ice Queen tried to get in your ass, but you dreaded that shit. “Ask him about Paco and Dr. Alma. Get your husband in check before he spirals any further.” You took the bottle of vodka she was holding and drunk a bit of it. “You’ll need more of that if you’re gonna deal with him.”

You sped over to the clubhouse. Without Chucky, they left upkeep to hang arounds. Ole faithful, Nails was there. You tried to warn her that Angel wasn’t ready for a relationship, but she seemed to be falling for him.

“Hey, Step. Go home, I got this.”

“Respectfully, no.” She bumped your hip once you got behind the bar. “You look like you need company.”

Ezekiel’s, but she would do for now. God, now you felt like Angel.

The two of you got the place clean in no time. During that time, Nails asked you about Angel. He abruptly ended things with her.

Focusing on her problems was a great distraction. You needed it or all you would dwell on is Miguel’s words.

Finally, you two finished so you sat on the steps of the RV. The sounds of engines flooded your ears. Soon you saw your boyfriend, smiling joking around with his brother.

“Oh man, what did you do? Did you leave the toilet seat up again?”

EZ elbowed him. “That’s all you. Anyways, we were real good this morning.”

“Or you were? I’m sure thirty seconds isn’t enough for YNN.”

EZ pushed him. “Whatever man. Lemme see what’s up.”

“On a serious note, give her my love.”

EZ patted Angel’s back and jogged over to you. It didn’t take long for him to figure out you were upset. When has it ever? But he hasn’t seen you this disturbed in a while.

“Hey baby.” He kissed the crown of your head before joining you on the steps. “Couldn’t wait to see me?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I came to see the prospect.” You winked at him.

“Don’t make me give him more shit than he already has.”

“Fine.” You weaved your fingers with his.

EZ kissed your hand. Your whole demeanor had him on alert. What kind of trouble could you be in? “What’s up?”

You shrugged it off. He would just fuss at you for talking to Miguel. Actually, for punching him. He would lose his shit and then the whole MC would be on your ass despite all the crap they’re going through. “Nothing, just missing you is all.”

EZ tilted his head. He wasn’t letting this go. Something was truly wrong. “YN. Talk to me.”

The authority in his voice tore down your wall. “Um, I had a disagreement with Miguel.”

Was this jealousy or concern that washed over EZ? He couldn’t tell. All he knew he was damn territorial over you and wanted you to have nothing to do with Miguel.

It did tear him apart that you still had such a strong connection to this man that once was his romantic rival. Miguel Galindo seem to follow him in all his romantic endeavors and EZ was tired of it. He got Emily, you were all EZ’s. He even stopped seeing Emily as a friend and left her all to Miguel. Why couldn’t Miguel do the same?

He fought to stay neutral. “What happened?”

You began wincing, because you knew he would freak out once you started telling your story. “Well,” You only got to the part where Marcus told you what was going on due to EZ’s abrupt interruption.

“Tell me you didn’t.” He shook his head. EZ knew you did it. For some reason, you thought you could fix everyone. Didn’t you know that no one can fix Miguel Galindo? For Jesus Christ, he killed an innocent child and left the charred body in middle of town. There’s no intervention or redemption for someone like that. However, you wouldn’t believe it. It was that damn optimism you inherited from your mom.

“We can stop it there.”

EZ waved his hand, telling you to continue on.

This part was harder than the rest. Your eyes remained on the ground as you retold the events. Every once in a while, you would glance at EZ once you felt the anger emitting from him. “And then I punched him then said once he kills himself that I wouldn’t be in his business.”

It was complete chaos inside of Ezekiel’s brain. He was concerned for you, but also for him and Angel as well. Would Miguel retaliate at you? It sounded like it was possible. From your account he seemed deranged. Was he just a loving son refusing to believe his mother would commit suicide? Or did he have a genuine reason other than denial to investigate? Did this mean he suspected murder? Did he suspect him and Angel? All of that ran in his head.

“Are you gonna say something?” This was uncharacteristic. You were expecting him to yell at you, but he was just sitting there not saying one word. Is this the quiet before the storm? Oh my god, is he so angry that he won’t say anything? Hey, at least it would make for great makeup sex later.

Finally, everything combusted. EZ jumped from the stairs and stared down at you. “Why would you do something so dumb?! He could kill you! This would have been a risk if he wasn’t off his fucking rocks, but now the probability of him killing you is exponential.”

“Someone had to say something!”

“And that someone had to be you?!”

“Yes!”

“He has a wife!”

“He doesn’t talk to her.”

“That’s none of your concern. Emily is his wife, and you are my girlfriend. We hold no obligations to them. I don’t want you to see him anymore!”

See the thing about telling you to do something backfires when you were already about to do it. Something in your brain signaled that as ‘time to be petty’

“Or what?” Seems like you got to bring another man down a notch. “You gonna hit me or something? Oops, already happened.” During a fight with some military bitches, EZ accidentally pushed you out the way too hard causing you to bleed.

EZ sighed “It was mistake, YN.” He tried to come towards you, but you sidestepped him.

“Yeah, just like this conversation. I’ll talk to you later.” You went straight for your car, not looking back once.

Angel came out once he saw your car drive off. Everyone inside the clubhouse heard raised voices, but they couldn’t figure out what was being said even after they turned off the radio. “So, you did do something.”

EZ said nothing as he pushed Angel inside of his trailer. “We got a major problem.”

“You messed up so bad that she ain’t gonna come by and clean for me anymore?!” Angel knew about your little break-ins into his house. He should give you a key, but deep down he loved the feeling of someone going through hoops to show their love for him.

EZ pointed his finger in his big brother’s face. “1, you gonna stop using my girl as labor and 2, she went to confront Galindo about killing Paco and his mother’s therapist.”

“Hold up, does Galindo suspect something?” Angel crossed his arms. Great another shit pile to add to his shit pile.

“I don’t know man. From the things she’s told me, it just sounds like he’s in a depression and spiraling. If he had any information that it was anything but she would have had an inkling. This just sounds like he’s in deep denial.”

Angel looked at his poor brother. He seemed in distress. He knew that EZ was worried about you and didn’t want to add on to that, but there was only one way to keep tabs on this situation. “YNN should keep talking to him. I’m sure she tells you about the talks and you can see if Galindo is on to us.”

“No fucking way Angel!” Ain’t gonna happen. Not on his watch.

“Come on!” Angel did his best to keep his voice down. “This will be our only way in.”

EZ sat triumphantly on the bed. “Even if I would let this happen, it couldn’t. She punched Galindo and left him with some not so nice words.” He retold Angel everything you told him about the argument with Miguel.

Angel whistled. “She’s cold man. That’s why Galindo likes her. It’ll be fine. I’m thinking he’s on his spoiled rich kid shit. Plus, we got other shit to worry about than this right now.”

They really did. This plan to dethrone the other kings was exhausting. “Okay man,” EZ clapped his hand and watched him walk out. He laid down in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping and praying none of this digging Galindo is doing will lead back to him.

#ez Reyes #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #Ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x black!reader #Miguel Galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #black!reader #I’ll take your man(s) #I’ll take your mans #frizzlefic #mayans mc #mayans #mayans fanfic