#miguel galindo x reader
Angel Reyes
Call Your Husband by His First Name
Obispo “Bishop” Losa
Gilly Lopez
Johnny “Coco” Cruz
Michael “Riz” Ariza
Hank “Tranq” Loza
Neron “Creeper” Vargas
Che “Taza” Romero
Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes
Leticia “Letty” Cruz
Nestor Oceteva
Miguel Galindo
Bre’s Boys Preference: Headrush
Oh boy, oh geez… I have no excuse except that I WARNED ya’ll I was gonna do this. PLEASE comment and let me know what you think. Also, these are pretty decent lengths, and I’m kinda proud. Anyway– lemme know what you think about this one! Bye!
(No Nick; I couldn’t get into it for him, sorry!)
Headrush definition: a sudden feeling of intense pleasure or euphoria
warnings: STEAMY, all smut, creampie, unprotected sex, anal sex, oral sex, dirty talk, orgasms, biting, dick sucking, squirting, hints of yandere behavior
Billy Russo: It was always the last orgasm that had Billy’s head swimming with pleasure. He took great pride in his ability to cum again and again with little to no rebound time; Billy was a soldier, a Marine, a sniper,so he had incredible control over his body. And yours. The first time he came in the session, Billy came on your stomach, grinning at the sight of his glistening cum on your soft skin. He leaned over, his long fingers stretching over your flesh, spreading his seed over you like a lotion, rubbing himself into your skin. The second time, he came on your ass before quickly flipping you around, sticking his dick in your mouth, and cumming down your throat. The last orgasm he got as you rode him. Billy sat back, dark eyes trained on you as you bounced on top of him. Your breasts were jiggling up and down in a blur of movement, and his hands gripped your thighs hard. He wanted to see his fingerprints on your skin later. You were moaning loudly, so prettily, and Billy arched his hips, groaning when he felt you clench around him in response. He knew what was coming next. He felt the tightness in his balls first, the telltale trigger before he bust. His hands, far from gentle, lifted from your thighs to slap down on your hips as he took control of the pace. Billy enjoyed lifting you up from his dick, leaving the tip in before slamming you back down over and over again until the room was filled with the sounds of your desperate moans, Billy’s deep grunts, and the wet slapping sound of your body on his. His eyes were still open, watching you, even as he felt the shift in his perspective. He was cumming, he was cumming again, inside of you, and fuck, it felt good. “Shit,” he hissed out, his head falling back against the pillows, “shit, fuck….” He felt himself twitch inside of you, still cumming, and he sighed. This was it. This was the best fucking feeling in the world. He watched as his cum started to leak out of you, dripping down onto his cock, still seated inside of you, and he felt his brain go fuzzy with pride. You were his. His. Only he could have you like this, only he could claim you over and over again and again like this, like he’d just done. As you trembled and shook above him, Billy reached out and pulled you down onto his chest, holding you close. You were his. Only his. And he’d be damned if he let anyone take you away.
Logan Delos: Logan would never tire of fucking you. God, it was like every fucking time was the first time. You always surprised him, no matter how well he knew you, no matter how well versed he was in the language of your body, you always found a way to make things new and exciting for him. Logan had you on your knees with his dick in your mouth and his hands on your head, dictating how deep and fast you took him. He liked to change it up, to go from fucking your throat so fast, there were tears in your eyes to slowly pushing his whole cock in your mouth, grinning as you gagged at the thickness. He had started this round talking a lot, telling you how pretty you were and how sweet you looked when you swallowed his cock. He’d made a point to compliment the fullness of your lips as you took in the fullness of his cock down your wet, warm throat, and it was as he was pulling out, playfully slapping your cheek with his drenched cock, that you said the words that took him over the edge. “Fuck Logan,” you gasped, and Logan felt a thrill go down his spine at the brokenness of your voice. He did that. He probably bruised your goddamn throat… “Logan,” you were holding his dick now, kissing it as you spoke, “you can do anything you want to me.” Logan closed his eyes and reminded himself not to cum yet. When he opened them, you were staring up at him with those pretty, innocent eyes. But he knew the truth. “Anything, huh?” He asked, taking hold of your head and pushing it forward, helping you swallow his cock, “So I can fuck your face, sweetheart?” You nodded, and Logan both felt and heard you inhaling through your nose, preparing for him. Fuck, he loved how willing you were. “What if,” he continued, pulling your mouth off of him with a “pop” as he thumbed at your swollen bottom lip, “I wanna put a plug in your ass and fuck your pussy till I’m empty?” “Yes.” He grinned, “You’d let me do that? What if I want to fuck you in the ass?” Your eyes fluttered close, “Yes, Logan, please…” Logan was done for. You were too good, too perfect, he could hardly believe you were real, and you were real.He took hold of his cock and pumped it, pushing it against your open lips. “I want you to swallow,” he said, and you did. You did because you were a good girl, hisgood girl, and Logan wouldn’t have it any other way.
Jax Teller: There were many, many things that Jax loved about you, but it was the way you looked when you took it up the ass that ruined him for other women. There were no other women anymore, just you. And you were more than enough. Jax had you in the classic face down, ass up position; they were throwing a party downstairs, so you didn’t have to worry about keeping it down. No one could hear you two over the music, so Jax was able to indulge in your moans and whimpers and cries, and fuck–you almost sounded as good as you felt. Almost. He had both hands on your hips, pulling you back to him slowly. Jax loved this, loved feeling the way your tight asshole curved around him, loved the breathy cries that came out of your sweet mouth as you rubbed your cheek against the cool sheets, deliciously full. He grunted as he continued pulling you back, grabbing handfuls of the soft, fatty globes of your ass. His rings pushed indents into your skin, and his mouth fell open when he felt himself push in another inch. He liked taking it slow; he had prepped you properly, of course, ate your pussy until you begged him to fuck it, fucked it, made you cum, and then used it for lube as he ate your ass, but he still liked to take his time. Your ass was so tight, and Jax was so big, so the stretch, fuck,the stretch was incredible, it was like nothing he had ever felt before, nothing either of you had felt before. And yet, that was the case every time he fucked you in the ass like this. It was always unbelievably unique, every time. Jax opened his eyes when he finally felt his pelvis bump into your ass; god, he was stuffed inside you so tight, Jax thought he could die then and there happy. It didn’t take long for him to start to move, and then he was fucking your ass, hips slamming into your bouncing ass as you moaned against the bed. Jax could feel his orgasm building, feel the rush in his dick, head, and heart, and he opened his eyes to look at you. His dick was absolutely packed in your ass, and he lifted a hand to smack it down against your asscheek, and then, fuck, you were cumming, and he was cumming, inside of your asshole, spreading your asscheeks so he could get in as far as he could. Jax stayed there, pressed against you, for another minute before he pulled out, chuckling at your whine. He watched his cum drip out of you and onto the bed, leaving a wet puddle beneath you. Smirking, he reached out and smacked your ass again, chuckling again at your gasp. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he leaned down to kiss the center of your back, “I love you…”
Coco Cruz: Coco had never considered himself a morning person until you. He had been an early riser, yes, but not necessarily a morning person. But then he discovered how pliable and sweet and eager to please you were first thing in the morning, and Coco was hooked. He had your head in his lap, sucking his dick as he fingered you lazily. Coco had woken you up with kisses that had turned into you, voice nearly a whisper, soft from sleepiness, saying to him, “Can I taste your dick, baby? Please?” And how could he say no to that? Coco sighed as he watched you; your eyes were closed as you took him in, one hand wrapped around his dick, stroking the length of him while you sucked on the head like a lollipop, and your other hand was cupping his balls, gently but firmly rolling them around in your little hand like you knew he liked. You were always eager to please Coco, but your dedication to the task always seemed different early in the morning. You were more submissive, and god, it drove Coco crazy. He grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing your head up, and he could have cried with the way you looked at him. There was nothing but love and devotion in your pretty eyes. Shameless, Coco dragged you up to him, kissing you deeply. He rolled on top of you, tongue swirling around in your mouth, and mentally wondered how he got so fucking lucky. “You feel so fucking good, huh,” he gasped, grabbing your thigh and lifting it, opening you up for him, “Fucking sucking me so goddamn good. Almost fucking came, baby,” he kissed you again, this time harder, fiercer, humping against you, his dick was hard as a rock and wet with your drool and his precum, and Coco groaned, annoyed, when his dick slipped away from your soaking pussy. “So goddamn wet. Just from sucking dick. Sucia,” he grinned, kissing along your jaw, “Gonna let me cum in you?” “Yes,” you answered, nodding as Coco continued to tease you, “Yes, baby, yes, cum inside me., please, please, please!” Coco didn’t need to be told twice. He slid into you quickly, all the way, and you both gasped as he filled you. Coco had you cumming immediately, and that alone was enough to have his head swirling with emotion. He came too, grunting as he slammed into you two, three, four times as his cock drained itself inside your pulsating walls. He laid on top of you, resting his forehead against yours, and smiled. “Hey,” he whispered, bumping his nose against yours, “I fucking love you, baby. I love you.”
Angel Reyes: Every time he heard the click of the polaroid camera, Angel swore his dick twitched. He could feel the wet spot on his boxers, could feel his dick, hard and leaking, straining against the black cotton. He was aching to touch himself, or more accurately, to have you touch him, but the wait was necessary. Angel sighed, content, as he looked over at you. You were naked, on your back in his bed, legs spread wide, so wide that he could see how wet you were. There were photos littered all over the bed and floor, as well as discarded boxes of film. Angel made sure he didn’t miss a moment. “You are so goddamn perfect,” he sighed out dreamily. “Angel,” you whined, gripping your knees and spreading your legs wider; Angel got the message. He handed you the camera and dove in, his lips wrapping around your swollen clit as he stuck a finger inside of you. You were still so tight; it took a while to get you loose enough for his dick, but Angel didn’t mind. It gave him more time to worship you like you deserve and please you like he needed. You were moaning, both hands in his hair, as Angel ate you out. His dick was weeping pre-cum, and Angel had to hump against the mattress for even a bit of relief as he lapped at your delicious pussy. He heard the camera click above him and grinned; you were taking pictures like the good girl you were. He couldn’t wait to see them later, look back at the images of him touching you, holding you, eating you, and soon–fucking you. He wanted to feel your mouth, but he didn’t have any more patience to wait. Angel made you cum twice with his mouth before he sat up, taking the camera and pointing it downwards, taking a picture of your waiting pussy. He grinned down at you, “Before…” Angel pushed into you, your legs opening up eagerly as you took all of him. Angel loved stretching you out, he loved how your pussy would quiver when he fucked you; you had told him that he was by far the biggest man you’d ever been with, and you hadn’t been lying. Your mouth was open, a deep, wordless moan working its way from your core as you shivered beneath him. Angel took the next picture; a perfect polaroid of his thick, veiny dick inside of you, stretching you open like a pro. It didn’t take long for him to cum, overwhelmed by the intense feeling of joy that came from fucking you. He came a lot, pumping you full before pulling out and releasing the considerable last of his load on your stomach, painting you in his cum. The resulting picture he took stays in the back of his wallet and the front of his memory every single day.
Miguel Galindo: You were intoxicating. You were an addiction. You were perfect and precious and priceless, and you were all his. Miguel was draped on top of you, as close as can be, watching you as you came undone on his cock. He had already made you cum three times already; once on his tongue as you rode his face, then again when he fingered you, and a third time when he turned you around and ate you from behind, leaving a particularly harsh bite on your left ass cheek just because he can. Now he was on you, inside of you, memorizing the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head and how your sweet, plump lips fell open as he rocked against you. Miguel held your hair in his hand, keeping your face towards him, nose to nose with him as you shuddered and sighed underneath his hard, firm body. His other hand was gripping your hip, and every few seconds he would swipe his thumb against your heated skin. God, Miguel could watch you like this for hours. You were so utterly broken, so drunk on him, it made him feel like a fucking king–no, like a god. He was the one who made you feel this way, he was the one who you allowed to see you like this, to feel you like this. He was the one you belonged to. Miguel eyed you softly, even as his dick pounded into you, making you claw at his back in ecstasy. His mouth was only inches from yours, and he leaned in closer, breathing in your desire and swallowing your sweet, breathless moans. “Say my name,” he growled, the hand in your hair going to grip your jaw, gently shaking it so your eyes would open and land on him, “Say my name, mi amor. Tell me how good I make you feel.” You obeyed instantly, as he knew you would, and Miguel closed his eyes as you sang his name, “Oh, Miguel, fuck, fuck Miguel, yes, Miguel–” you were chanting his name now, over and over and over, and oh god, Miguel could feel your pussy clenching around him, and then he was cumming, he was cumming inside of you, hot spurts of cum releasing deep inside of you and raining down your warm walls. The way you said his name had Miguel shaking, it had him weak, it had him desperate. He needed you, he needed to hear you say his name like that for the rest of your lives. Slowly, he kissed you, his tongue moving against yours. He didn’t want to pull out yet. In fact, he wouldn’t. Miguel smiled against your lips; you were still muttering his name as your orgasm subsided, and he was determined to get you screaming it again.
Johnny Tuturro: Johnny could fuck you 100 times a day, and still want more. He had lost count of how long the two of you had been like this, wrapped together, rolling around in bed. It’d been a couple of hours, at least. You swallowed his dick after dinner, underneath the table while Johnny watched until he came. You had licked it up, cleaning him with your tongue, and Johnny had thanked you by picking you up, placing you on the table, and having you for dessert. He’d started with his face between your legs, getting those sharp cheekbones of his wet as he shook his head from side to side, making sure to taste every last bit of you. He had laughed, smacking your thigh, when you came. But he wasn’t done there; Johnny had turned you over, positioning you on the table on your stomach, legs spread, ass up, as he ate you from behind. It wasn’t long before he had been taking his clothes off and pushing into you, making you push up off of the table. Johnny wasn’t sure how long he’d had you on the table, but he didknow that you came twice before he was pulling out, picking you up, and tossing you on the couch. You rode him there, and Johnny had kissed and tweaked at your nipples as you bounced on him, telling you how fucking pretty you were. And God, you were. Your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen from kisses and his dick and from biting–both your bites and his–you were beautiful. He had almost cum on the couch, so he turned you over and had you ride him reverse cowgirl for a while, reaching around to pinch your nipples until he had you squirming on his dick, cumming again. Your legs had turned to jelly then, so Johnny had picked you up and carried you to bed, where he kissed you softly and slowly while he touched you all over. Johnny loved kissing you; he sucked on your tongue as he groped your breast, and all it took was two skilled fingers curling inside of you to have you cumming again. And then he was inside of you again, and he was calling you baby, and you were mewling and gasping and moaning, and Johnny felt your pussy damn near suck him in, and he knew what to do. He took two fingers, the same two that had just made you cum, and strummed them on your clit. He grinned, hips still slamming against yours, as he watched you howl with pleasure. You screamed his name out, and Johnny nearly sobbed when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. You were such an angel, you were crying. You were cumming and crying on his dick, and then–oh!You were exploding, suddenly Johnny’s dick and fingers were drenched, the sheets were drenched, and Johnny fell on top of you, toes curling as he emptied himself inside your dripping pussy. Neither of you spoke for a while, you just held each other, and Johnny closed his eyes as he cuddled against your heaving chest. Soon, he would get up and clean you up, take care of you. But for now, he was happy to float in time with you, still inside of you, warm and loved.
Rio: “Fuck,” Rio groaned, his voice deep and low in your ear, “That’s so fucking good, ma.” He was on top of you, hands on your ankles, keeping you wide open for him as he broke you with his dick. Your eyes were closed, Rio knew he had lost you to the ecstasy long ago when he first started working you over. He took his time with you, kissing you deeply while gently caressing your curves, holding you in his lap, both of you fully clothed, for what felt like long, torturously delicious hours before he had slowly started to undress you. Rio treated you like a gift, unwrapping you with great care, those long, talented fingers teasing and pleasing you mercilessly, brushing against you here, rubbing against you there. His kiss had worked its way down from your mouth to your neck and collar as he cupped one of your breasts, and you balanced yourself in his lap, one large hand of his gripping your ass–still covered by your underwear, as he kissed you senseless. Rio could feel you melting against him, could feel you becoming weakened from his touch. Still kissing you, he leaned forward, lowering himself on top of you as you laid on your back. You were naked save for your underwear, and he slid them off of you easily, taking a few extra minutes to finger you, smirking into your mouth as you moaned against him. You were soaking wet, his fingers were coated with your juices, and he knew there was no need for any more foreplay. He had to have you now. And so he took hold of your ankles, spreading your pretty legs wide so that he could look down at the glossy mess that was your pussy, all for him. It was almost enough to make him bust early. Instead, he slid inside of you and dedicated himself to making you as needy for him as he was for you. Rio loved having you like this; he watched your tits bounce as he fucked you, and he could hear the wet, slick sound of him pushing in and out of your pussy with each thrust. You were so wet, so good, Rio cooed when he noticed you trembling. “Oh, yeah, mama, yeah,” he praised, “that’s fucking it. Got your body shakin’ like it’s supposed to,” he leaned down, kissing at the side of your face, releasing his grip on your ankles to hold you close to him. His eyes were glued to you, watching the way you came undone because of him. “Give it to me,” he whispered, his voice nearly hoarse with desire, “Fuck, baby, let me have it–yeah, just like that…” He groaned as he felt your shaking intensify; you were cumming, and he pushed into you deeper, enjoying the way your pussy clamped around him. Rio came with you, a strangled moan erupting from his lips as he burst inside of you, filling you up until he was shaking too. He held you close, lips dropping lazy kisses to your forehead as his eyes fluttered close, “Don’t fucking move,” he said softly, “wanna fall asleep inside of you… I’ll fuck you again in the morning, yeah, champ?”
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Please let me know which boy was your favorite, if you had a favorite! And come on, which headrush did you like the most? Anyway thanks for reading, I’m gonna run off now and hopefully come back to some comments and maybe even some of you lovingly calling me a bitch/slut ;3
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Mayans MC preference: how they react to their naive and optimistic S/O
Bishop
Bish loves your upbeat attitude, it’s always making the clubhouse, his life, so much brighter, but he really, really wishes you weren’t always so naive. He knows that he can’t have one trait without the other though, so he’ll gladly take that naiveté if it means you keep your sunny disposition. He’ll just have to be a little more overprotective sometimes.
Angel
This boy finds it so refreshing that you’re just absolutely upbeat about everything in life. So often, he’s dealt with terrible things happening, but you always find a way to make them bearable. His name may be Angel, but he thinks you really are one.
Coco
He is always the one that gets frustrated with your happy-go-lucky attitude the most. He loves you a lot, but his temper is short, especially when he has a problem. Usually, he’ll be going through it (when is he not?) and will snap when you tell him all the good about the situation. But once he sees that hurt look in your eyes, his whole world crumbles. Usually it takes him a bit to come find you and apologize, but he always does.
EZ
His world has been so dark recently, first his mom, then prison, then the problems with the club, that he just feels like you’re a breath of fresh air. He could sit there for hours just listening to the optimism in your voice, it brightens his whole world. EZ is smart though, and he knows how your naivete could be harmful so he prefers to have you with someone he trusts as much as possible. Either another Mayan, or his dad, hell even Letty, would make sure that you’re kindness is not going to be taken advantage of.
Miguel
He loves that you’re happy; he’s got one foot in both worlds and that can lead down a very dark path so having someone by his side who is just so bright reminds him of the man he’s striving to become. Your naivete drives him crazy though, because he knows that your lack of understanding and knowledge of all the dark in the world is going to lead to your downfall. Expect lots of arguments with “Dammit, you just don’t understand!” and a constant personal bodyguard to protect you from the world when Miguel can’t.
Nestor
He might have some darkness in him, but deep down this boy is super soft and just craves the constant positivity you embody. Seeing how you can find the good in absolutely anyone or any situation is the only thing keeping him going sometimes. Your naivete drives him absolutely crazy, in a different way than Miguel though, and being with you made him realize how much he wants to corrupt that innocence. His loyalty will be to you above all else and he will make sure you are always protected and taken care of.
[ read on AO3 ]
Pairing:Miguel x Reader/Nun (Latinx, WOC)
Word Count: 2415
Story Summary: Miguel is hiding in Mexico under an assumed name in his Aunt’s church, where he catches the eye of one of the nuns about to take her vows.
Story Warnings: Sacrilegious themes, NSFW, some praise kink, loss of virginity, explicit smut (18+)
A/N:This is written solely based on the events of episode 4x04, so my assumptions about Miguel’s story may not be accurate, and obvious spoilers for this episode. I also am not a religious person and those elements are based on surface research I did and there will be inaccuracies. But you’re probably not here to read about my thorough understanding of Catholicism, right?
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You tend to your daily chores as you watch Madre Superiora’s nephew from the window— the mop of dark curls flop over his sweaty brow, as he bends over the rusty water pump. He wipes the sweat off with the back of his hand before filling the basin with cool fresh water. Splashing his face, he lets out a satisfied sigh.
“Are you ready, Sister?” Sol Sofia asks.
You sweep the same patch of tile over and over again, and she senses your mind is elsewhere.
He catches you staring at him, his lips curling into a quiet taciturn smile. Martin pauses, and waves. This was how Madre Superiora hesitantly addressed him, almost a year ago when you found him on the doorsteps of your church, a somber and broken soul. She was as surprised as the rest of you to see him. “Mi sobrino… Martin,” she finally said, but some days you could have sworn she called him by another name. She forbade the order from speculating about her nephew and his history. He is here to give penance, and reminded the sisters that gossip is a sin of speech.
For the first few months Martin found odd jobs on the church grounds, rising at sunup to go to the quarry to collect stones for the wall in the cemetery, and working till sundown. He kept to himself and took his meals separate from the sisters. You always brought him the food, as you were burdened with the most chores as the newest of the convent. It was simple sustenance in keeping with your vow of poverty— a bit of bread, and some soup. He never spoke to the other sisters, only his Tia, but nodded in gratitude when you would hand him his tray. As the months wore on, you found yourself developing a soft spot for him. “You take on too many strays,” the other sisters joke, as you tear off heartier and heartier pieces of the daily loaf for Martin. He notices this too, and finally one day he speaks to you. “Thank you, Sister.” His voice was deep and velvety and did not match the gruff and rugged exterior. For the first time in your brief life, you felt like you were hearing the voice of God.
“Ready?” You repeat, distracted. Your throat is parched, and your response is clipped. It must be the summer heat.
“Yes. To answer the call?” Sol Sofia says. Ah, yes… You will take your vows, and devote your life to Him, to God tomorrow.
The two vows of Poverty, and Obedience you understand — to live a quiet life in complete love and service, and to want for nothing before the eyes of our Lord. This is something you know well since you entered the church as a novitiate. But since the arrival of Martin, it is the third vow of Chastity with which you struggle. You have prayed for God to grant you the wisdom to take on this sacred promise. You read about such sinful desires in the Holy Book and wonder if the Lord is testing you, by burdening you with such unbridled lust for this stranger. It is wrong! It is sinful to think about pleasures of the flesh! You prayed nightly for a resolution to no avail, waking up with your heart racing and an unfamiliar wetness between your legs from dreams unfit for repetition.
Martin returns to his work and you continue with your chores. You white knuckle the handle of your broom, as a heat creeps up the neck of your habit. You tug on the collar, needing to catch your breath.
“Yes, Sister,” you finally answer. “I wish only to live to serve Him.”
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In the evening you return to the chapel after the other sisters have retired for the night for one final opportunity to ask God for counsel.
Sitting in the first pew, you take in the quiet and the beauty of this sanctified space illuminated by candlelight. “Father in heaven,” you pray, folding your hands and closing your eyes. “I open my heart and my mind to you. I pray for your forgiveness and ask you for guidance.”
“I believe in your grace with all my heart, but I know you hear my thoughts and know they are impure. I want to be good; I want to be clean, but I am struggling with my faith and my vow of chastity. Before I am yours forever, I want to know if I could belong to another… if only for a night.”
The large wooden door to the chapel creaks and startles you.
You let out an audible gasp, head spinning to see the interloper. Martin! Did he hear you? You wonder.
“Hmm, my tia keeps pestering me to have a conversation with God, but I see you’re already here bending his ear,” he says, walking down the aisle. Before you can object, he takes a seat next to you in the pew.
“It’s late. I’m just about to turn in for the night,” you stumble over your words. “I will take… I will take my vows tomorrow, and need to pray on it one last time.”
“Did your conversation with God clarify things for you?” He asks with genuine interest.
You gulp, lips trembling. “Not one bit.”
“I’m sure whatever problem vexes you can resolve itself tonight,” He gently unfolds your hands and when you do not retreat, he strokes your knuckles. “May I? I never properly thanked you for your kindness, Sister. I imagine it can’t have been easy to have me here, an extra mouth to feed, a stranger seeking sanctuary.”
This is your calling. You chuckle nervously and cite the life’s purpose you believe you hold so dearly.
“I live to serve our Lord. My body is a vessel for his goodwill,” you say, as your cheeks burn, and you avert your eyes from his gaze.
“Sister, do you believe your body could be a vessel for anything else?” His voice is silky, and his words slither inside you.
You are a novice in many ways, and yet you understand his meaning. Beneath the long white robes of your habit you squeeze your thighs, unsure if you wish this throbbing sensation to subside. His forwardness both surprises and excites you.
“I have prayed—” you say quietly, uncertain of how to respond. You have dreamed and fantasized about this moment. “—I have prayed for an answer. Lust is a sin, but I worry my faith is wavering.”
His laugh is hearty. “Desire, it is a natural sentiment. I do not think our good Lord would want you to deny this feeling.” He dips his head seeking affirmation. “Do you desire me, Sister?”
You finally work up the courage to face him. He is still holding your hand. Martin’s curls are slicked back, fresh from the bath. His lips are wet and his eyes sparkle as he takes you in.
He is so beautiful, like some sort of Messiah. But you still dance around the question. You are afraid of giving power to your words.
“I heard you ask God if you could belong to another for tonight, but tonight you belong to no one,” he says simply.
He is giving you a choice, and so you choose honesty.
“I don’t want to wonder about what I’ll be missing before I give myself to God,” you say, reaching for your rosary. You rub it in your hands hoping it will give you the answer you seek.
He approaches as if you are a frightened, skittish deer. “I can show you.”
He bows his head for a kiss, his beard tickling your skin. The sensation of his warm lips on yours spreads through your body and you push into his touch. He lets go of your hand and snakes it around your waist. His nimble fingers undo your tunic, and you let it fall to the floor.
You pray God will forgive you this one indiscretion.
Martin’s hands are skillful, grabbing and squeezing your tits, and caressing your neck as his tongue dances across your lips. His eyes are hungry, fixed on your chest, and the curves of your exposed flesh.
It is new, but you like this— this feeling of being devoured.
He stands up and drags you to your knees, unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers down. You have never seen a cock before and your eyes grow big as he presses it against your face.
“Can this pretty mouth be a vessel for me?” He whispers.
You give him a hesitant lick and he sees how far he can push your lips apart before it is too much for your throat and your conscience. Shh shh, he says. He doesn’t force it, and your shallow, innocent sucking is enough. Martin’s breathing is restrained. You can feel him get harder and harder in your mouth.
“Do you touch yourself, Sister? Do you know how to?” He asks again, voice husky with want.
Mouth full of cock, you shake your head shyly. He brushes your cheek with affection and removes himself.
He sits you down on his lap, one arm tight around your waist and your bare bottom rubbing against his erection. “Like this, Sister,” he says, guiding a trembling hand between your legs.
With his guidance, he works your fingers over your wet pussy, letting you set the pace and explore your body. It’s all so new and the sensations are so overwhelming, like a sin waiting to be absolved.
“It feels wrong, but in a good way,” you breathily admit. “I don’t know if this is how—”
He cuts you off. “You’re doing so well.” He kisses your shoulder and pushes your hand aside gently. “Let me help you.” His firm fingers rub your swollen clit and you feel yourself losing your mind. He teases your folds and slides two digits in, checking your reaction to this intrusion.
“Yes… oh my,” You sigh.
He mutters a word you dare not repeat as your tight pussy grips him. He slides in and out of you at a punishing pace. Your eyes roll back when his thumb circles your little nub and you choke back tears, thighs shaking.
“You just came, mi amor,” he says, proud as can be. He holds up his hand to show you how you’re dripping with sweet honey. You collapse against his chest as he licks you clean.
The strange feeling between your legs went away for a brief moment, but at the sight of him sucking those long digits clean of you, it returned immediately. You turn to kiss him, threading your fingers through his dark hair, hips rocking against his throbbing cock.
“I want more, please.” You do not recognize the voice of this woman. Martin only grins at the little monster he has created.
“Isn’t greed a sin?” He teases.
He sees your lip quivering and catches it between his teeth. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” His kisses are wetter, harder, but he is as good as his word. Every part of your body that he touches comes alive.
The pew is small but you make do. He sheds the last layers of his clothing, lays you out beneath him, and pulls your leg over his shoulder. In the flickering candlelight his big brown eyes look even more ravenous, his sweaty muscles glimmering. He grins and lays a playful kiss on the inside of your knee, never breaking eye contact.
He collects the wetness from between your legs and uses it to stroke himself before carefully pushing himself inside slowly and firmly. If you have to spend a lifetime atoning for this moment, you know it will be worth it.
You gasp. This is different and hurts more than his fingers. As he makes his way deeper and you feel yourself stretch, you start to ache but can’t help but want more.
“Shhh, I know… I know…” He soothes, and the pain slowly dissipates. You learn to grind back against him, bodies moving in unison. Your fingers crawl down your belly to touch yourself just the way he showed you.
You cry out his name, and his hips stutter. He shakes his head no. “Shh.. shh…,” he hushes, as a big hand comes down to cover your mouth, before finding respite at your throat. He is of two minds, squeezing only hard enough to silence your words.
His hips buck desperately, fingers pressing into your flesh, fucking you hard. He feels you coming and unclenches the grip around your neck. Your body is exploding into a million pieces and becoming whole in the blink of an eye. The sensation is too much to bear. Your veil is loosening and falls to the floor.
“I don’t only want to be a vessel for God, I need to be filled as a woman,” you beg, tears rolling down your face.
Your body is shuddering as he slowly pulls out. “Come here,” he orders, pulling you up and shoving your head into his lap. You know what to do, as your mouth closes over his cock. You can taste him, you can taste you, and what you made together. His creamy hot seed flows down your throat, consecrating your body in the empty chamber of this chapel.
The candles have burned down to the last of their wicks, and you and Martin will soon be enveloped in darkness.
He pulls you to curl up on his lap, and you hear his heartbeat slow. You press tiny kisses to his sweaty neck, breathing him in.
“Can we stay like this a little longer?” You ask, and he nods. He doesn’t want to let you go either.
You trace the ring dangling from a gold chain around his neck, and he reaches to clutch it protectively. “It belonged to my mother,” he finally says.
“And this one?” You take his left hand in yours, playing with his fingers.
He stares at the gold band and twists it. “I broke a promise to a wife I had in another life,” he says simply. There is hurt in his voice and you do not press further. He fingers the silver cross nestled in your bosom. “And you? Has the Lord answered your prayers?”
“Tomorrow, I will be married to God, Martin.” You know you can never take back tonight.
“It’s Miguel,” he says, the last flames extinguished. “My name is Miguel.”
══════
Epilogue:
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Thoughts? Comments? Thank you for reading!
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@brattyfics
Summary: After the fight of a lifetime, Miguel and you have a quick heart to heart.
Pairing: Miguel Galindo x female reader
Warnings: Mention of marriage issues and divorce, arguing
Word count: 709
A/N: Just a quick little something for my babies
You chuckled as you listened to the show playing on the TV, your eyes focused on the knife in your hand as you chopped up the fruit. It was early morning, and you had woken up before the sun had even risen into the sky.
Partly because you weren’t tired anymore.
Partly because it felt off to sleep in an empty bed.
Miguel had been in and out of the house the past week, focusing on the more legit business side of his empire. You understood the demand and didn’t let it get to you. At least not to where anyone could tell.
It was already nearing two weeks after the blowout that had Miguel’s booming voice echoing off the walls, the word divorce blurting past your lips at one point. The fight had been nasty. Hostile and vicious, on both sides, and lest the marriage crumble you both decided to take some time to yourselves away from each other. It had proven beneficial, the frustration on your side and his dwindling. You’d been back in the same house now for a week, and while things already felt somewhat back to normal, you both knew they weren’t.
He hadn’t listened closely enough nor taken you seriously enough when you had told him that if you didn’t get more of his attention you would leave, and you ignored his rationalization that you sometimes asked the impossible of him. Now that you both had time to reflect, things were smoother. Calmer. But it was undeniable that you both were walking on eggshells at times. Alone in the kitchen, you felt at ease, but that feeling disappeared as Miguel walked in through the front door, eyes landing on you immediately.
You looked away, thinking back to what he had said.
‘Do you always have to think the worst? Does it always have to be an interrogation as soon as I come home?’
You internalized that and listened, simply throwing him a smile and returning your gaze to the fruit salad you were assembling.
Miguel sighed quietly, his own words echoing in his head as he now ached for the show of interest he once had found annoying. He tilted his head toward his office once, Nestor understanding the gesture to mean he wanted to be alone. The bodyguard and friend walked away silently, Miguel walking to the kitchen to join you. The closer he got, the more you tried to keep your posture steady. Closing the gap, Miguel came to stand right beside you, hip against the counter as she watched you. Finally meeting his gaze, you forced another smile.
“Welcome home.”
The cartel leader nodded, forcing a smile of his own as he reached out to you. He didn’t miss the small flinch you gave at the movement, nor did he miss the ache created in his chest. His smile took on a glum impression, the sigh he let out coming from deep in his chest as he rested his palm on the smoothness of your cheek.
“Every time I touch you, there’s a moment where you look like you think it will hurt.”
His words pained you and you found yourself leaning into his touch to soothe both him and yourself.
“Because I wonder if it’ll be the last time.”
Miguel quickly shook his head, opting to place his other hand on your free cheek, your face resting cradled in his palms. His eyes were warm and reassuring as they gazed at you, hoping to convince you.
“It won’t be. We fight and we argue but we’re fixing that. I fight because I care. I have to learn how to be more temperate, more patient. But you don’t ever have to worry about the last time. Even when my hands are so old and weathered that they can’t do anything else, they’ll still show you love.”
You smiled gently, the first real one in a week, and Miguel did too. Thumb brushing along your cheekbones, he sighed once more, though this time there was a layer of content. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against yours for a lingering kiss before pulling away and looking down at the bowl of bright, glistening fruit, serving you the first bowl with love.
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
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Miguel taglist
@omg-mymelaninisbeautiful@maciiiofficial@jatriciaaa@black-repunzel99@ben-c-group-therapy@witchygagirl@xonickibaby@berniesilvas@myakai13@fanfictiontrash9
Pairing(s): Miguel Galindo x Reader, Dad!Miguel x Daughter
Warning(s): fluff
Summary: And just as he always had, Miguel was there with his protective arms around your baby girl.
A/N: Wanted to write something different while I continue my Massimo Torricelli series and I realized I haven’t written for Miguel where he wasn’t an asshole lol, my bad! Enjoy papa bear daddy Galindo.
‘’Miguel, you know she won’t break if you put her down, right?’’ you joked, taking a sip of the first caffeinated Starbucks drink you’ve had in the last 9 months.
Your husband gave you the side eye as he gently rocked your newborn daughter in his strong arms. You smiled at the sight of your powerful, at times even intimidating, husband fawning over something so precious and tiny. Your two most favorite people completely enamored with one another.
‘’Don’t listen to her, bebita. Mommy is just cranky because she’s not the princess anymore,’’ Miguel cooed, grinning as y/d/n gripped his index finger with her tiny hand and let out a series of babbles. You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes as you settled back into the hospital bed.
‘’Daddy’s just in denial that he has a rude awakening with two girls now,’’ you retorted as he sat down on the side of the pristine white bed. After giving you a loving kiss on your temple both of you smiled down at your little bundle of joy.
‘’No, she’s going to be daddy’s little princess forever.’’
‘’Daddy, I’m scared,’’ your sweet five-year-old girl pouted out her bottom lip as she held onto both of your hands, stopping just shy of the entrance to her new school.
You and Miguel shared a look, with you nodding and stepping back to talk to Nestor as Miguel went into papa bear mode.
‘’Why are you scared, princessa?’’ he asked, kneeling down on the concrete despite the fact that he was wearing his expensive suede pants.
‘’It’s new, daddy. I don’t want to leave you and mommy and Tio Nestor and Abuelita,’’ y/d/n’s big brown eyes were shiny with unshed tears at this point. Miguel sighed, setting her glittery pink backpack to the side as he took her small hands in his.
‘’I know the first day of school can be a little scary, sweetheart. I was scared my first day of class too.’’
‘’No way, Daddy! You’re not afraid of anything!’’ your daughter gasped in disbelief, causing your husband to chuckle.
‘’Well it’s true, nena. I was nervous just like you. But I realized there was nothing to be scared about, I made new friends like Nestor’s big brother. I had fun at recess and learned all sorts of cool things, I even met your mommy when I went to big-kid school,’’ he grinned.
‘’Really?’’ your daughter seemed more at ease, smiling and wiping away her tears.
‘’Really, really. I promise you’ll have fun, y/d/n and daddy never breaks his promises,’’ he held his large pinky up to the delight of your little girl who quickly returned the favor.
‘’Kiss,’’ she ordered and giggled when Miguel covered her chubby cheeks in kisses and held her in his arms.
‘’I love you, princess.’’
‘’I love you too, daddy.’’
As your daughter waved to the two of you from doorway of her new classroom, you struggled to hold in your tears until she joined the other children. Miguel simply smiled and kissed your forehead, leading the two of you back to the limo. You rested your head on his shoulder and smiled.
‘’You’re amazing, you know that?’’ you beamed up at your husband.
‘’Gracias mi amor,’’ he kissed you softly. His smile then shifted into a sly, teasing smirk as he whispered in your ear, ‘’you can show me how amazing I am when we get home.’’
‘’WHY THE HELL NOT?!’’
‘’HE IS A BOY, HE IS NOT STAYING THE NIGHT!’’
You sighed, tugging on your silk robe as you headed down the grand staircase of your home. You reluctantly made your way into the kitchen, entering no man’s land as you brewed a fresh cup of coffee. Something told you that you were definitely going to need it.
‘’You’re such a dictator! Mom!’’ your angsty teenage daughter shrieked, throwing her hands in the air the same way you did when you were upset.
‘’Don’t talk to your father like that, y/d/n. Now what is this all about it’s not even 8 o’clock yet…and it’s a Sunday!’’
‘’Dad won’t let my friend stay the night and we have a project due together on Tuesday,’’ your daughter pouted, giving Miguel the infamous Galindo stare.
Miguel clenched his jaw, running a hand over his face as he struggled not to get hot coffee on his crisp suit.
‘’He’s a boy, y/d/n! Do you think I’m stupid??’’
‘’You really don’t want me to answer that!’’
‘’ENOUGH!’’ you barked, slamming your coffee mug onto the granite counter. Both your daughter and husband tensed up and looked up at you. Before they could open their mouths in protest you held a hand up.
‘’I don’t want to hear it. When you both have calmed down then we can work something out.’’
Your daughter let out a huff that resembled a baby elephant and stomped her way back into the room, slamming the door shut for a dramatic flare. You just scoffed and smirked, turning to face your husband.
He huffed, rubbing his temples as you wrapped your arms around him from behind.
‘’This is your fault, she gets it from you, you know,’’ he muttered, placing his hands over yours as he slowly calmed down.
‘’I know, mi amor. I know.’’
‘’She likes this boy…I know she does,’’ he sighed, sagging against you. You quirked a brow.
‘’How do you know?’’
‘’I read her diary.’’
‘’Miguel!’’
‘’Y/n!’’ he mocked, turning to face you and cup the side of your face. You smiled up at him, grinning as he leaned down and kissed your lips.
‘’I love you.’’
‘’I love you too.’’
‘’Tell me it’ll get better.’’
‘’It’ll get better, Mikey. We’ve got this,’’ you held up your pinky, to which Miguel laughed and wrapped his own around yours and sealed the promise with another kiss.
Miguel was currently downstairs, looking over the blueprints that Nestor had dropped off on the latest warehouse building that he was overseeing. You had gone to bed about an hour ago and your daughter was out galivanting with her boyfriend and Miguel was enjoying a night of silence. He sighed, settling into his favorite lounge chair with a glass of scotch in his hand.
SLAM.
He sighed, ready to lecture y/d/n for slamming doors at such a late hour when he froze. Your daughter currently had her hands over her face, sniffling as the mascara ran down her cheeks.
‘’Y/d/n?’’ Miguel was immediately up, the blueprints easily cast aside as he walked over to ensure she wasn’t hurt.
The look your daughter gave him broke his heart. His strong, sassy, moody baby girl was completely broken as she cried.
‘’D-dad,’’ she whimpered, collapsing into his chest. His strong arms immediately embraced her and held her close.
‘’What happened?’’ he asked, panic and rage filing his entire body. Whoever hurt his princess was going to pay.
‘’H-he cheated on me, dad. I’m so s-stupid,’’ she sobbed against his chest. Miguel physically felt his heart break at the sound of his daughter crying. He never wanted her to feel this pain, he and you did everything in your power to shelter her from this pain, but a parent could only do so much.
‘’He’s an idiot, y/d/n. Look at me, princessa,’’ Miguel cradled your daughters face as she looked up at him with big tears in her doe eyes.
‘’You are the most beautiful girl in the world, aside from your mother. If he can’t see that, then he’s the one who lost out, not you. I love you, bebita,’’ his words seemed to comfort her as she nodded and cried into his chest.
You slowly crept down the stairs, woken up by the sound of your daughter crying. And just as Miguel always had, he had his arms wrapped around your baby girl. You smiled sadly and when your daughter finally noticed your presence, she cried to you as well.
When the two of you had gotten y/d/n to calm down and fall asleep you and Miguel sighed, sitting next to one another at the bottom of the stairs; hand in hand.
‘’I’m going to kill him,’’ Miguel murmured as you stroked his massive hand with your thumb.
‘’No,’’ you response made him sit up immediately, brows furrowed in anger and annoyance.
You held up your pinky finger.
‘’If we kill him, we do it together.’’
Miguel smiled and nodded his head, entwining his pinky with yours and sealed the promise with a kiss.
