anybody who has written miguel galindo fanfic has heard him say that word in their heads but to hear him say it out loud with his whole chest, and in that tone blurs the line a teensy bit that feels like you got away with something sinful.
[ 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.”
summary: Sierra left, but she didn’t quite leave (you’ll see)
pairing: basically miguel galindo x black!OC
genre: errrr pettiness? fluff, maybe angst
wordcount:
AN: DO NOT WORRY! I AM CURRENTLY WRITING A FIC WITH FLUFF WITH ANGEL THEN EZ
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“I just don’t understand why I have to go back there.” Sierra huffed, not wanting to move since she was very much pregnant as hell. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of her couch but Miguel was more at ease knowing she was with him at all times with her being so close to her due date. He didn’t want anything to happen to her, but he understood where his wife was coming from when she said that she didn’t want to go back to the clubhouse after what happened to her 4 years ago. The only two people she’s kept up with was Letty and Chucky. They’ve visited her a few times, they came to the wedding, the baby shower, almost everything. They were the only two people she trusted when it came to the Mayans.
“Mi reina, I completely understand why you don’t want to go back, but I can assure you that nothing will happen to you because while I conduct business with Bishop, Nestor will be by your side just as he has been all these years. You have nothing to worry about, just trust me.” He reassured her. She sighed and nodded her head as he gave her a triumphant smile. “Besides, it’d be nice to see you be petty every once in a while.”
“I’m not liable for anything that happens while you’re in the Templo. You know how my mouth gets when I get riled up” She grumbled, slowly sitting up from the couch to slip on her slides. Miguel gave her a kiss on the cheek, and let her have her alone time until it was time to work again. He absolutely knew how much of a hard ass she can get when she gets mad, he’s been on the other side of that on several occasions.
Sierra was 100% sure that Miguel was bringing her out of spite because he liked to brag and that’s just the type of man he was. He took pride in the fact that he finally found love after Emily since he found out Cristobal wasn’t his. He was heartbroken, yeah, but Sierra was there for him when nobody else was, and she was there for him when she told him about the deal that EZ had made with the feds. Of course, she felt like a bad friend, but there was so much betrayal being thrown around inside the Mayans, she didn’t care anymore. Now here she is, 4 years later, married and pregnant by the one man that Angel and EZ had hated more than anything.
She had came to peace with herself and what happened to her a long ass time ago. She didn’t want to harbour any hate for a man that didn’t even deserve her time of the day. She stopped posting on social media because for some reason it had always encouraged him to call her, even while she was engaged to Miguel. She had also known, that Miguel was a completely different breed when it came to loyalty, it was like taking care of her needs was always his first priority and she used to feel so overwhelmed with how much love she had been receiving, but she had gotten used to it.
“It’s time to go mi corazon,” Miguel announced, walking back into the living room with Nestor behind him. She gave the two men a confused look as she watched Miguel carry a bag. He gave her a smile and handed it to her. She smiled as she looked inside the bag to see that it was filled with all her favourite snacks and drinks since he knew she liked to eat throughout the day. Not wanting to waste any time, she pulled out a bag of hot cheetos and ripped the bag open before popping a handful in her mouth.
Miguel grabbed her free hand and lead her to the car where the driver was waiting. He opened the door for her, placing a hand on her back as she got in. After she got comfortable, he closed the door and walked to the other side before settling himself beside her. Out of instinct, Sierra crossed her legs over her husbands, and scooted closer to him. He smiled and began to rub her thighs as the car started to move, Nestor sitting in the front. Miguel rolled up the partition from his side of the car, and began rubbing her thighs higher and higher, making her look at him suspiciously.
“The same shit your doing now is the reason why I’m pregnant.” She grumbled, trying to push his hand away from he only grabbed it and laced it with his other hand as he slowly pulled her panties off with one hand and began to rub her clit slowly in small circles. She sighed and leaned her head back as she tried not to make too much noise because the car definitely wasn’t sound proof.
“You know I can never get enough of you querida, no matter how pregnant you are.” He mumbled, leaning over to place small kisses on her neck and chest. Sierra sighed in content and leaned back on the seat with her sundress hiked up to her belly, making Miguel smile. Maybe a small quickie wouldn’t hurt.
“Miguel just hurry up because you got me horny knowing how sensitive my hormones are.” She complained, trying to unbuckle his slack but he slapped her hand away, and held her legs up by the back of her knees.
“Relax honey, it’ll be a while before we get there anyway.” He stated before eating his wife out like it was her last meal, not giving her a chance to respond properly since she was too busy trying not to moan as she ran her hands through his hair.
Miguel moaned as he felt her drip onto his tongue before pushing her dress up past her. breast so he could have something soft to hold onto. Lately, he had been having sex with her and eating her out more than usual. She tasted sweeter and her pushy was always extremely wet during sex. He let go of her trembling legs, and snuggly placed them on his shoulder so that she would be more comfortable.
He circled his lips around her clit before sucking harshly, receiving a loud moan from her. “Holy fuck! Shit…”
Sierra looked down to her husband over her belly to see him already staring at her with wide eyes as he used both hands to spread her pushy lips as he stiffened his tongue and proceeded tongue fuck her deeper, making her thud down onto the seat and let out another sob as she felt herself coming closer and closer to cumming.
Her mouth fell into a silent scream as she felt her orgasm crash down upon her. Miguel did his best to keep her still as he watched her essence spurt out of her, watching as her legs continued to shake from the huge orgasm. Miguel glanced outside of the moving car for a split second before rushing to pull his slacks down.
“We’ll be there in 5, so lets make this quick mi reina,” He mumbled, kissing his wife on the lips before leaning back up to thrust into her. Sierra gasped and grabbed her husbands hand as he quickly plowed into her as he tried to get her to finish as she chased his own climax. Miguel tried his best not to moan loud because he knew Nestor would give him shit so he stuck with deep breaths and small grunts. Sierra bit onto her lip as she watched her husband thrust harshly into her.
“You gonna let them know who you belong to amor?” Miguel asked, moving his hand to rub his wife’s clit as she came around him. She sporadically and rapidly nodded her head as she tried to push him away but he grabbed both her hands and placed them above her her as he continued his consistent thrusting, now getting to his orgasm as he gave her one more thrust, spilling himself inside her. (I promise I write better smut than this lol.)
“Miguel, we’re here.” Nestor called from the front. Miguel could hear the sound of the front seat opening before he and Sierra put their clothes on. She straightened herself out, fixing her hair while Miguel pulled up his slacks and buckled his pants back.
It had just dawned on her about what she was about to walk into. Sierra sighed, not wanting to see anyone’s face again, not after what happened but she knew she really had no choice seeing as she willingly got into the car with her husband.
Miguel noticed her distress, and comforted his wife, “Hey, if you don’t want to come in it’s your decision.”
Sierra smiled at him and shook her head, “No, I want to. Let’s go.”
The couple made it out of the car, checking their surrounds before a loud voice caught her attention. Miguel whispered to Nestor about keeping a watch on her, the man nodding his head.
“SIERRA! GIRL HEY!” Letty ran up to the pregnant woman and engulfed her in a huge hug, being mindful of her belly. Miguel smiled at the interaction and stated that he was going inside for his meeting with Bishop, to which Sierra smiled and nodded her head before kissing his lips as a temporary goodbye.
“You’re glowing! Miguel really got you out here living your best life.” She complimented, looking at her friend. Sierra laughed and rubbed her belly out of instinct.
“Girl, he is but don’t tell him I said that shit. His ego already big as hell.” She joked, earning a laugh from the younger girl in front of her.
“You wanna head inside?” Letty asked after a small moment of silence. Sierra hesitantly smiled and nodded her head. Letty noticed the hesitance.
“If it makes you feel any better, Angel’s been a shit show ever since you left. Adelita was pregnant and he thought it was his but turns out it wasn’t. So karma’s a bitch I guess.” Letty explained as the two of them walked to the doors of the clubhouse. Sierra gave a small hum at the new information. She had always told Angel that Adelita was suspect but he clearly was too deep in her pussy to see that until it was too late.
“I’m married to a good ass man and we got a kid on the way, I could really care less.” She stated, walking past Letty to get inside with Nestor following closely behind since she was burning up. It was like a record scratch from those dramatically funny ass movies and suddenly all eyes were on her while some where on her belly.
Of course they were doing the same banter just like the time Angel got caught only his little Adelita wasn’t here. Such a shame. She turned to Nestor with a smile on her face.
“Could you get me something to drink?” She asked quietly. Nestor gave her a friendly smile and walked to the bar to ask for some water, returning it back to Sierra as she thanked him and took a big gulp from him. She tried her hardest to ignore the stares but it was getting irritating at this point.
“Are yall gone keep staring or is somebody gone speak?” She asked loudly, scanning the room, and of course the first one to walk up was Angel. Looking past him, Sierra locked eyes with a girl with shoulder length hair, making her squint her eyes at her before the girl broke contact with her and turned around.
“Who knocked you up?” He asked, pointing to her belly before glancing at Nestor who was standing behind him. She smiled at him.
“Not your hoe ass, that’s for sure.” She replied, pretending to pick at her nails as if she were bored with the conversation already.
“Mi reina seriously, did you let Miguel knock you up?” Angel asked, hoping to hear a no, but from the smile on her face he knew it was the opposite. Sad to say, he had thought about coming to see her all the way up until this point, but she clearly was busy with someone else.
“I’ll tell you this. I married the same man who got his heart broken by the bitch your brother constantly fucked. Crazy how their baby wasn’t his but EZ’s isn’t it? Kinda pathetic if you ask me, taking Miguel’s sloppy seconds…so weird.” She spoke, every ounce of venom on her voice. She had time to be petty today.
“Did you come here to insult us? If you did you can fucking lea–”
“How’s Adelita? Y'know with you cheating on me with her and all one would’ve thought that you guys would be a big happy family with her being pregnant. Oh wait, they poor baby isn’t even yours. So not only did you cheat, you allowed a hoe to run game on you. Crazy.” She chuckled, shaking her head at him. Angel knew he should say something, but how could he when everything she’s saying is true. As far as Nestor, the only thing he could really do was try not to laugh, since he was told not to start anything unless he felt like someone was physically trying to attack his boss’s wife and unborn child.
“Seriously Sierra, we get that we fucked you over but chill out.” Gilly spoke from the other side of the room. Sierra looked at him and sighed.
“Gilly, if you knew how much dirt I had on you and every person in this room you would shut the fuck up and keep stuffing your fat ass face.” Sierra ranted. Where the fuck is Miguel?
“Uhm excuse me but who are you? Angel why are you letting her walk all over you?” One of Vickey’s girls asked, standing up to get beside Angel.
“You do know I can put a price on your head and get you knocked off right? Matter fact lemme just…” She trailed off, pulling out her phone to text Miguel but Nestor grabbed the phone from her hand before she could. One phone call and the entire building will be burned to the damn ground with everyone in it.
“He just saved your life. Next time you wanna try somebody, try a bitch that ain’t me.” She hissed, standing up just in time to see her husband walking out of the templo with Bishop, who could clearly feel the tension in the room. Miguel smiled and walked over to his wife as she welcomed him with a hug.
“She wasn’t too much trouble was she?” Miguel asked Nestor, who handed her back her phone.
“Other than the fact that she just tried to get one of Vickey’s girls dead, no, she’s been an angel as always.” Nestor laughed, stepping back from the two of them.
“Why the fuck did you marry her into this shit? You’re too dangerous for her.” Angel fussed, scowling at Miguel who turned around with an amused look on his face.
“Angel seriously shut the fuck up. You just don’t like the fact that I’m married to the one man everybody in this bitch is afraid of because if he’s too dangerous for me then you were as well and yet I STAYED with you and you see where that got me. It took you five years to propose to me while it took him one and a half, and we got married 6 moths later. Like my momma always said, a man knows when he ready to settle down, and you weren’t ready and that’s okay, but don’t try to talk about what the fuck I got going on when you clearly got homegirl in the back over there scared to even say shit with her weak ass but I’m not surprised, you always had to fuck weak bitches because you could never handle a real ass bitch like me. Have a nice life dickface.” She ranted, grabbing her husband’s hand who was shocked at the confrontation. Any other time Miguel would be the first to speak on something like that but hearing his wife do it for him just made his heart swell with pride.
“You handled that better than I would have baby, I’m proud of you.” He told her as the two of them got into the car. Sierra smiled and leaned into her husbands side as he pulled her closer and kissed her head.
“Okay now take me home and give me bath.” She demanded, causing the other man to throw his head back in laughter.
“Angel seriously shut the fuck up. You just don’t like the fact that I’m married to the one man everybody in this bitch is afraid of because if he’s too dangerous for me then you were as well and yet I STAYED with you and you see where that got me. It took you five years to propose to me while it took him one and a half, and we got married 6 moths later. Like my momma always said, a man knows when he ready to settle down, and you weren’t ready and that’s okay, but don’t try to talk about what the fuck I got going on when you clearly got homegirl in the back over there scared to even say shit with her weak ass but I’m not surprised, you always had to fuck weak bitches because you could never handle a real ass bitch like me. Have a nice life dickface.“
Characters: EZ Reyes x black!reader, Miguel Galindo x black!reader
Summary: No one lives forever
Warnings: Death of a loved one, hospitals, just major sad vibes.
A/N: Its finally here! I wanted to wait til I finished the whole series, but I decided I should give y'all something. Hopefully I’ll finish the series soon enough.
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?”
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
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: 18+ sexual content, yall already know what it is by the title lmao
A/N: I read this HC for JJK the other day that I swore I saved so I could link it here for credit/inspo and i can’t find it Once I read it, all I could think about was how the boys would be if they called you while they were indulging in some self love and you didn’t pick up for whatever reason…and here we are Also it’s the first time getting to write for Mayan Manny and let me just say it’s the first of an eternity
He starts sweet about it
He pauses his movements, trying his best to hold off until he hands up
But hearing your voice on the messaging system
It makes him throb
“Hey babe. It’s me…uh,”
His hand is moving like it has a mind of it’s own, and he chuckles into the receiver, letting you in on the activity
“I miss you. A lot. I just keep thinking about you.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his brain seemingly unable to focus on both the pleasure and putting together a sentence.
“How beautiful you are. How good you smell. Fuck, I miss your smell. Especially your hair.”
His fist is pumping faster, eyes fluttering closed as he imagines you, all beauty and smiles
“I miss how you grip me. How you have to use both hands. How your eyes look when you watch me.”
His hips are moving too now as he pictures your body, bare and all his
“I need you so fucking bad. I can’t wait to be back home with you. This ain’t cutting it.”
He trails off for the most part then, just letting you hear him moan and hiss, saying you name until he spills over his hand, chest sweaty
“Fuck, mama.”
He catches his breath and tells you he loves you quickly before the time runs out, hanging up and chuckling at himself, only able to imagine what type of voicemails you will leave him next time he doesn’t answer
He’s quiet for the first couple of seconds when he hears the beep
Then he makes up his mind
He’s vulgar from the start, talking dirty with no prelude or warm up
Stroking himself harder so you can hear it over the phone
“Miss you so much, mi reina. I’m so fuckin’ hard for you. I can’t think about anything but that perfect pussy. I’m gonna fuckin’ rail you when I get back home.”
He stops talking for a little, bring the phone down by his hip so you can hear the obscene sound of his hand pumping
He’s purposefully more vocal
Knowing that if you can’t see him, he’s going to let your ears paint the picture for you
“So hard and thick, baby. All for you. You got me fuckin’ throbbing and you ain’t even here.”
He’s picturing you
How he had you bent over the kitchen counter
Hands gripping the granite as he plowed into you from behind
“Wish you were here. I’d fuckin’ wreck you if you were here.”
He’s cursing and growling as he comes, his seed collected across his stomach
And for a second, he can almost trick himself into thinking he feels your mouth on him cleaning it up
But then he’s left alone with the silence again, his voice softer now.
“Hope you sleep well, princesa. Talk to you tomorrow.”
He’s playful
The first thing coming after the beep being a deep laugh
“Why you not answering the phone, mama? What, you don’t wanna talk to me no more?”
He keeps stroking himself lazily, no match for how much better it feels when you do it
And he lets you know that
“I’m sitting here in bed, thinkin’ about you. Figured I’d make myself come before bed, but it wasn’t the same without you. Now you’re not even answering the phone.”
He laughed again, but he wasn’t mad
It was late, after all
He kept tugging at himself, rambling off as he did
“Bet you look real cute, all curled up right now. You holding my pillow? Cuddling into it because you miss me? Bet you are.”
He picks up the pace, squeezing himself gently just like you do every now and then
“I wonder if you touched yourself before bed too. Maybe that’s why you’re asleep so deep you didn’t even hear my call.”
He groans at the thought, picturing you in your bed, legs spread
“Ain’t the same though, is it mama? Nah. It’s better when it’s me doing it. Just like it’s better when it’s you doing it.”
He doesn’t say much from then on, just letting you get an earful as he comes, cursing and growling
He’s laughing again then as he cleans up, looking forward to your call in the morning
“I’ll talk to you later, mama. Maybe I won’t pick up either, let you have your turn.”
He’s a little huffy about it at first
He finally found a couple minutes to himself, stashed away in the bathroom, and now you don’t pick up
“Hey, uh…I just wanted to see if I could talk to you. I needed to hear your voice.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds more, wondering to himself if he should just hang up and try again later
But things have been so busy and he’s so hard
He doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance so he sighs and keeps talking, knowing he’s already there
“Was gonna see how you were doing, maybe get some phone sex going, but since you didn’t pick up, I guess it’s just me huh?”
He strokes himself firmly, not trying to make it feel like you since he knows he can’t
“I fuckin’ miss you, chiquita. I wanna be with you. This shit is taking to long.”
He huffs, eyes closed as he strokes himself
“I wanna be inside you so bad. Can’t fuckin stand it. We still got a couple more days.”
He decides to stop giving you the run down and instead just lets you listen, not doing a whole lot more talking
He finishes with a strangled groan of your name, breathing deeply as he tries to slow his heart down, still not feeling satisfied
“I’m gonna go, call me back when you get this. I’m gonna call again tomorrow night too, make sure you pick up this time.”
He’s not upset
Disappointed sure, but he understands
It’s late, and he’d be asleep too if it weren’t for the throbbing ache in his boxers
That was the only reason he was calling at a time like this
And part of him wants to just leave it along
But the bigger part of him knows that he could still bring himself pleasure while making sure you know how much he missed you and relied on you for relief
So he does
“I miss you so much, beautiful. Wish I could have you here with me. Or be there with you. Either way.”
He’s another that doesn’t even bother trying to make it feel like it’s your hand, lest he disappoint himself even more
“I just want to feel you there. Laying on me, like you do. When you put your head on my chest and stick your hand in my boxers.”
He groans, imagining the feel of your soft and warm fingers, how they wrap around him
“Miss your voice too. You gotta make a longer voicemail greeting. Give me more to listen to.”
He leaves it at that, letting the voicemail run in the background while he scrolls through his pictures of you
Cursing as he stops on the one he had taken of you in the bath, skin wet and glistening, bubbles barely covering his favorite parts of you, that warm needy look in your eyes from both the massage and wine you’d had prior to the picture
His orgasm almost catches him by surprise when it comes, your name and ‘I love you’s” being chanted over the phone before he finally hangs up and drifts off
He contemplates hanging up
But a little old fashioned phone sex never hurt anybody
So he stays on the line
He’s quiet for a good while, just thinking about you before he remembers it still recording
“Hey, babygirl. Sorry i’m calling so late. You’re probably asleep already. I just can’t stop thinking about you.
Definitely tries to make it feel like it’s your hand
“I miss you so fuckin’ bad, pretty girl. Can’t wait until I’m home.
Might even hang up and call back so he can hear your voice again
He feels a little foolish at first
Not used to having to resort to using his own hand
He’s used to having you right there, never having to be separated from you if he doesn’t want to
But he’s got business and you’ve got a family matter to attend to
So finding himself hard and lonely in your shared master bedroom has him calling you for some relief
He’s all huffs and eye rolls when he calls you twice and it goes to voicemail
He knows you’re safe
He send two of his best with you on the trip
But that doesn’t do anything to help the raging throb he feels as he thinks about you
Your voice over the greeting enough to have him reaching into his briefs and finally let the voicemail start recording
“I thought we talked about how I would let you go without me, but you needed to make sure to answer your phone? Remember when we agreed on that?”
He huffs quietly, not liking the feeling of being out of control
“I miss you. I want to hear your voice. And not over some stupid fucking device. I want you here with me.”
“Wait until you get home. Wait until I get my hands on you.”
He just lets you listen for the rest, letting you hear him groan and curse until he finishes
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.
