#mafia Miguel

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 8: Conversion

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs. 

TW: car sex, memories of abuse, anxiety, dark thoughts, violence, murder, lots of shot. It’s a mafia fic, what do you think is about to happen?

The drive to wherever the fuck Miguel was taking you was filled with dread and completely soundless aside from the hum of the engine. Your arms covered your chest, as if trying to hug yourself as tight as possible and comfort yourself on the way to whatever meet up was happening. His hand lifted to hold you in some way, to show he was on your side and was going to keep you safe from the fuckers who tries to lay a finger on you.

But he didn’t. Miguel put his hand back on his phone and contacted the others, then being distracted by the tattoos on his knuckles, thinking about the numbers “2099” and back to his phone.

You sat, your face stained and rosy from the tears you cried, the anxieties pouring out of you as you heard Miguel directing the others.

Just then you saw a face out the window that you recognized as the car stopped at a light.

“Eddie.” You spoke and Miguel turned his face to look at you.

“What?”

“That’s- he’s right there!” You pointed as Eddie pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and began to walk away. Without thinking, you opened the door and launched into a sprint, chasing him now.

“Get back here!” Miguel screamed at you, but the only sound you heard was your heart pounding in your ears. Your heels crunched under each heavy step as you panted, catching up with him and finally grabbing his shoulder, pushing him to the ground. You tried to stop, but fell forward from the lack of balance and landed on his back.

“Eddie!” You yelled as people began to stare and you yanked his hood back, revealing him to the light of day. Your name was heard from behind you, but you drowned it out with the pure rage you saw. The memories of broken bones and black eyes, bruises and beatings came back as your fists shot attacks to his shoulders and the back of his head, tears clouding your vision. You felt two hands wrap around your torso and pull you off of him as you let out a painful screech, thrashing in Miguel’s grip as he held you back. Eddie stood up and looked at you, face a bit blood from being punched into the cement. His face was bewildered, shocked you had fought him. The surprise turned to anger as his features scrunched together.

“You fucking little bitch, I’ll end you! I was nice until now, trying to show you I wanted you back-”

“That’s enough.” Miguel pulled you tight to his chest as he kept his eyes trained on Eddie, not daring to break eye contact, “She doesn’t want you, and you won’t be ‘ending’ anyone.” Miguel glanced behind Eddie briefly before both Hobie and Pav appeared behind him, resting a hand each on Eddie’s shoulders and pushing him to the ground onto his hands. Miguel released you finally, but held one of your hands as his foot moved to stomp on Eddie’s fingers, the pops of breaking bones making you twitch a bit. You watched the interaction as Eddie yelped in pain and looked up at Miguel, fear corrupting the soft lines of his face while he began to grovel.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think she was-” He stuttered as Miguel crouched down.

“You laid a hand on the woman you claim to love, to need, so now I’m going to kill you. Painfully. I’m going to hang you by your throat from the highest building in Nueva York and watch you bleed out while fucking the woman you’re obsessed with.” Miguel pinched his nose and pulled his head up, a hiss coming from the lower man’s lips. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human, so I’m going to exterminate you.”

Standing again, he fixed the creases in his suit and pulled you against him once more, pressing a kiss to your temple and then yanking you to follow him. “Clean this up.” you said to Hobie as he forced you to leave with him, leaving behind your previous abuser and the two henchmen.

“Miguel, did you-”

“From now on, let me handle things. Now we’re late for this meeting and that could mean serious consequences.” He opened the door to the SUV and gestured for you to get in, relaxing a bit more once you sat inside and the door was shut. He got in on the other side and pinched the bridge of his nose, something you noticed he did often when he was stressed.

You sat in silence as you wiped your face. Everything happened all at once, so intensely. Old wounds you thought were long healed were now reopened and even more painful than the first time. Miguel’s hand rested on your knee and your eyes shifted to his, meeting his ruby red irises with anticipation. “You’re a part of this now, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Now that Eddie can’t get to me, won’t they just hire someone else to get me?”

“Not if this meeting goes in my favor. No one in this city gets to challenge me without repercussions.“ You nodded and sighed, leaving your hand on top of his in a symbol of solidarity. Your eyes glistened with fear as you pulled him closer. He looked down in confusion as your hands moved to undo his belt and lower his pants. His hand caught your wrists and you looked up.

“Please, I-I,” You stopped speaking and began to feel your bottom lip wobble as you prayed the tears you felt coming on didn’t spill over. “I don’t know why, but I need you right now, I need this.” As your voice cracked, he let out a breath and let go of his harsh hold on your hand.

Miguel’s finger hit a button and a window came up to separate the front seat and the back, giving you two privacy. You pulled his cock free finally and marveled at its size, how thick it was in your hands. You immediately latched your mouth to the tip and swirled your tongue a bit, causing him to let out a slight hiss. His hands balled into fists next to him and you took one to place on the back of your head, eyes meeting his and giving him silent permission to guide you. He slid the hand to the back of your neck and let you bob on his cock before lifting you and enjoying the string of saliva from your lips.

“We don’t have time for me to fuck that mouth, now get on.” He squeezed your thigh and lifted your skirt, leaning down to give your clit a kiss and make you gasp before guiding you down. “Are you sure about this? We don’t have time to prep you.”

“Just shut up and put it in.” You answered sharply and he smirked, pulling your hips down to slide into you. Just the tip had you gasping and groaning, squeezing his shoulder as your walls fluttered around him. He kept his eyes on your expressions as he didn’t stop, moving you down until you were halfway, then jerking and bottoming out. The second his hips met yours, you let out a loud yelp and dug your nails into his suit jacket, teeth clenched as the burn turned to pleasure. That's when he began to swivel your hips back and forth on him, feeling him nudge against the deepest parts of you as your body rocked to his command. Your head bent into his neck as you panted and his thighs started to bounce under you a bit, making you do the same and rebound back onto him. You saw stars as you kept his hands on your waist now, staying in control of the pace and position. His movements made your jaw slack and open, letting out the loudest sounds you’d ever released as he pounded into you from the bottom. Quickly building, you felt your release about to pop and explode. He spurred on your climax by biting your shoulder and leaving a hard smack against your bobbing ass, making you squeeze your eyes shut and constrict around his dick as you shook with the orgasm that tore through you.

Gasping for air, you leaned onto his shoulder as he slipped out of you and tucked his still-hard dick back into his dress pants.

“We’re almost there, so relax for a minute.” he looked out the window as the car continued moving and the world spun around you from that earth shattering release. You sighed and closed your eyes, then freezing when you felt his hand slip into yours and intertwine with your fingers. “I wanted to have a better first time with you, but I know you needed it.” He mumbled without looking at you, surprise covering your features. “Get yourself presentable.”

The short amount of time you had left before the car stopped, you fixed your clothing and didn’t speak, avoiding eye contact with Miguel. Meanwhile, his eyes stayed glued on you, as if watching for any sign of malcontent or upset. You stared at your hands and picked at your nails, trying to breathe quietly as he stared holes in the side of your head like a gargoyle, not moving and eyes serious. The sound of the driver putting the gear shift into park made your head spring up and look forward, practically hopping out of your frozen position and filling up with life once more. Miguel’s hand trapped your wrist and yanked you towards him, his voice low as if warning you.

“Don’t make any sudden movements and don’t move away from me, make sure you stay within a foot of me.”

“Won’t that look suspicious?”

“I don’t care, this isn’t about what they think, it’s about keeping you safe. You’re part of the O’Hara family now, and that puts you under my protection, so you’ll stay close to me.” He repeated and you just nodded.

Your brain was still fuzzy, chasing Eddie and then riding Miguel. The whole day seemed to be a complete roller coaster and you were getting whiplash from the sharp turns it was taking.

He got out of the car and you saw him fix his suit jacket, clasping the last button before reaching in towards you and helping you climb out. You checked your reflection and saw how your hair was a bit frizzy and your jacket was a bit wrinkled. Tugging it down and combing your fingers over your head, you sighed and settled with the frazzled look you had. A hand fell on your shoulder and you looked up to see Miguel’s eyes soft, squeezing as if to comfort you. The gesture was well intended but you were once more reminded of the previous 20 minutes and began feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He smirked slightly and pulled you forward with a hand on your lower back, as if guiding you across the River Styx for your eternal damnation. At least that’s what it felt like.

Walking into an elevator, you noticed that Hobie and Jess were now next to you. “When did-“

As if you weren’t even there, Jess looked through her yellow tinted glasses above you to Miguel. “He’s been taken care of.”

“A real whiny one, too, kept cryin-“

Miguel shot a glare at Hobie and then all of their eyes fell onto you, but you kept your gaze on the floor.

Taken care of… the words echoed in your head over and over. Eddie was dead, that’s what they meant. You knew that, but it still felt strange. He beat you, hurt you, destroyed your life, chased you from your home, stalked you and was going to kill you… yet, you still had a lump in your throat. Was it mourning? Mourning for the man you knew, or the man you thought he was? Maybe it was just pity, thinking of him as a sad excuse of a human. Or maybe it was anger. Anger because you wanted to see the light die in his eyes the way he had extinguished the joy you had in life and hope for love.

That one seemed to fit best as you felt your hand become almost numb from how tight of a fist you were making. You wanted to enjoy hurting him like he had hurt you, torture him just for a while as you got retribution for all the torture he put you through for years. Controlling you, belittling you, lying to you, cheating, screaming, hitting, hurting-

Your thoughts were interrupted by someone grabbing your wrist. You looked up to see Jess staring down at you with confusion and concern.

“You with us?”

“Yes, sorry.” You mumbled and avoided eye contact before Miguel grabbed your chin and forced your face to look at him.

“Your hand is bleeding.”

“What?” Your sights snapped to your plans, seeing that you were bleeding from the nails digging into your hands from your tight fists. Miguel opened his jacket and wiped the drops of blood on the inside of his suit, then planting a gentle kiss to the little cuts.

“Follow my lead.”

Tags: @luropo@yougavemeyourheartyouknow@not-9ok@bozos-r-us@byjessicalotufo @lifefullof-depression @chaoticbeanchild @neteyamsluvr11 @lilli-elen @vonev @juneonhoth @whatdudtheysay @ebonydumbslut @sarapaprikas-blog @darksidescorner @o-kei-beans @meeom @minalovesyoubabes @darkfairy102190 @imjustheretoreads-blog @softhewisdom @2008tillthen13 @shadowytravelerlover @s0fia4 @migueloharaluhver @silassinclair @ch3rry-l0z3r @its-carlerrr @kiaraking @berry-potchy @viriexo @mskye6522 @foundthem @the-ashtronaut @definitelynother-871 @literallydontlook @faithyourgirl @winteringfalls @cheerrioeoz @xxemmarldxx @freeloverpeanut @enheduannasposts @ashreblogsnow @itz-kiara @djarinluvr @lady-necromancer @phd-in-simpology @miguelswifey04 @oxrchd @deputy-videogamer @misswonderfrojustice @loxbbg

[tarjapearce]

A little sneak peek of part 2 of El Diablo Wears Prada ✨

Hopefully will be posted on Saturday ~

Internship has me by the hair jsksj. Help.

[iminloveweveryone]

Miguel O’Hara

This is a part two to my first mafia!au Miguel fic, find it here

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Miguel pulled back, still looking smug at your heavy breathing and inability to stand still.

“goodnight sweetheart.” he says, before his usual expression is back on his face. He walks off down the hallway, as you only watch from the door.

you stand frozen for a moment, not sure what to make of the situation.

Eventually you make your way into your apartment, locking up and going to bed with the thought of him still on your mind.

Like he said, he shows up to your work. This time a little earlier and with a grin on his face.

“Your happy” you say to him, a smile playing on your face as you wipe down the counter.

he only nods, pulling out an envelope from his coat and placing it in front of you. “Got something for you.” he leans forward, pushing it closer to you.

You pick up the envelope curiously, inspecting it. “it wont hurt you muñeca.” he teases as you give him a look.

You open up the envelope and read the paper that was placed inside. It was..a job offer?

“Position opened up at my company.” he explains. “It’s an assistants job, nothin’ too difficult.”

He looks over at you expectantly. “well I..” you mumble, a bit unsure. “Promise you it’s better then here.” And he gets to keep an eye on you all day, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

You read over the contract slowly, eyes flicking between the words written down. “would i go for an interview soon or something?” you ask, looking back up to him.

He chuckles for a moment, finding something amusing. “You want it, the jobs yours.” he shrugs. “But..how i mean..they can’t possibly know if i’m qualified.”

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?” he sighs. “Come in monday morning, 7 am.”

And with that he drives you home, wishing you goodnight an expecting to see you in a few days time.

Time passes unexpectedly quick, making you jittery and nervous as you walk down the cold concrete sidewalk.

the fall leaves grace the sidewalk and crunch beneath your new heels. The heels you had worn for this special day.

a excited smile is plastered across your features, as you open the door to the building.

you walk into the lobby, a red head woman sat at the front desk, typing away on her computer.

you walk up to her, placing the envelope he’d given you yesterday on the counter.

“Hello! i’m here for the uh..assistants job” you say with a small smile planted on your face. She looks at you then to the envelope.

She grabs it, inspecting the paper inside before giving a nod and lifting her eyes to meet yours.

“You can go on up hun, top floor.” he says plainly as she slides a key card over to you. you give her a nod and slip the card into your pocket.

You ride the elevator all the way up. The door dings and you step out, examining every inch of the room. you walk in a bit further, the waiting area seems empty.

suddenly a girl pops out, a cheery aura surrounding her. She gives you a smile and walks over.

she introduces herself as lyla and walks you through what you need to know about the job.

soon after she leaves you, so here you sit alone in the office waiting for the boss to show up.

the elevator dings and unexpectedly out steps Miguel, although your happy to see him he looks cold, colder then usual.

“Miguel!” you chirp up, standing and walking over to him. he only gives you a sjde glance before continuing to walk to the office door.

“Oh uh, Miguel i don’t know if you can go in there..the boss is out.” you say, trailing behind him.

he lets out a chuckle, though you don’t think there’s much humor behind it. He opens the door to the office, sliding a key card to unlock it.

He walks in the shuts the door behind him, leaving you a little confused at his actions and mood.

you slowly walk back to your desk, sitting yourself down and going through work when the memory of the first time you’d been in this office pops up.

the man who was bothering you, when Miguel walked in he called him..boss. God how could you not remember, it was so obvious.

how could a man like him not be the boss here, and he’d gotten you a job so quickly, of course.

The rest of the shift passes, leaving only half an hour left. You had only seen Miguel a few times, and each time was similar to the last.

he was almost silent, giving you only short worded answer to any of your questions. And the way he held himself seem different too.

It wasn’t like before, when he so kindly offered to drive you from work everyday. No, now he seemed arrogant, cold and completely uninterested.

You’d wondered if you had upset him, maybe said something wrong or annoyed him in some way.

You’d scrolled through emails and documents, endlessly doing work before something popped up that Miguel actually needed to be informed of.

You dreaded it. Especially since he seemed to be mad right now, or at least pissed off. Regardless, this was now your job.

you wondered if he’d be like this all the time, if working here was one big mistake. Yet you still walk to the large office doors that, file in hand as you prepare yourself to face him.

You knock curtly on the door, waiting for the standard ‘come in’ before entering.

you look around as you do so, plaques covering the shelves and walls. Along with some other more personal items.

“what is it..” he grumbles, not even looking up from his work. You step forward placing the file on his desk.

“They said it was urgent” You point to the small stack of papers that were neatly placed inside. You stand around for a few moments waiting for him to say something more.

“That all?” he asks, reaching for the documents and leaning back. You only nod.

you look down to him, hoping for the sweet man you knew yesterday to re appear.

“Miguel,” you say as he lets out a hum. “Have I..made you mad or something?” you ask cautiously.

“Y/N, i’m busy.” he waves you off not even looking up before going back to his work.

“i know but, i’m just a bit confu-“

“Y/n i said i’m busy, fuck off and bother someone else.” he says harshly slamming the pen he was holding down.

you nod timidly and stare for a moment, unsure what to do.

he says nothing after that, only ignoring you and going back to what he was doing as you awkwardly walk out.

after the uncomfortable shift you find yourself walking home, The dull street lamps barley lighting your path.

A gust of wind passes you by, making you shiver, pulling your light coat tighter. You really needed to get a car..

after walking for a while your apartment building finally comes into view.

you enter your apartment, swinging your coat on a nearby chair and going to your bedroom to put on more comfortable clothes.

After an hour or so of lounging around, reading books and watching tv you decide to turn in, feeling a bit concerned about miguels behaviour keels you up all night, and by the time morning comes you don’t feel or look so good.

You stare in the mirror, tired written all over your face. you move through your morning routine like a sloth and eventually make it out the door. Although his change of attitude threw you off, you still couldn’t afford to lose this job by being late.

The elevator door opens with a ding as you step onto the top floor, where Miguel’s office is located.

Lyla gives you a concerned look as you walk up to her, but says nothing. She hands you a small stack of papers and asks you to bring them too the boss.

you push open the doors and silently walk over to his desk, he looks at you for a quick second before doing a double take.

Your about to walk away as Miguel grabs onto your arm, a worried look written on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, earning an eye roll from you. You mumble a quiet ‘mhm’ and try to walk away. To which he stands up.

he walks around the desk swiftly, standing directly in front of you. He reaches out to grab your hands with his own, but you move away quickly.

A disappointed look crosses his face but he leaves it and walks back to his desk, looking like a sad puppy with his tail tucked between his legs.

The day is coming to an end and Miguel’s patience has only gotten thinner, he’s snapping at everyone for anything he can think of.

you hear him barking orders at an assistant just as your packing up, sighing to yourself as you say goodbye to lyla and leave.

you arrived home an hour or so ago, lounging around and putting off making dinner.

that’s when your phone rings, you glance over and see miguel’s contact flash across the screen.

you honestly don’t really feel like talking to him, but he is your boss now so regardless you pick up.

the line is silent for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Then your hear a gruff voice.

“Y/n?” he says to which you stay silent “Y/n, say something please.” you groan internally before answering him.

“Hi miguel..” you say quietly as he sighs in relief. “do you need something?” you ask him.

“yeah i..” he pauses “i’m sorry muñeca, you know i never meant to treat you like that. That was..” he trails off as you cut his sentence short.

“why did you hire me? you had no reason too and you clearly don’t like me very much..” you mumble to the phone.

“what? sweetheart of course i like you, I’m..Im sorry, Somethin’ happened and m’no good at telling people i trust bout that sort of thing.”

you stay silent.

“please let me make it up to you, i’ll take you for dinner and we can talk bout it, how’s that’s sound huh?” he sighs “i want to spend more time with you and..and i for sure fucked up so please, let make it up.”

you smile a little at how persistent he is, and your sure he can hear it as you speak. “okay, fine” he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you sweetheart, i’ll see you tomorrow at work, alright?” he clicks his tongue “And call me if ya need anything.”

you say yours goodbyes and hang up the phone

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this was in my drafts for so long and i just wanted to put it out so here you goo!

[theroseceleste]

Mafia Miguel - Part 4

The fourth instalment to Mafia Miguel.

You can find chapters before this one below.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

18+ content. Minors DNI!

Contains : Female reader, mention of anxiety, brief mention of violence, smut - oral, fingering and penetrative sex.

Word count - 7609

Hope you enjoy chapter 4!

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“I- I’m sorry Mr. O’Hara…” a tall slender man in a work suit stuttered nervously leaning as far back in his chair as he possibly could.

“I’ll stress the fact that only you or Mr. Parker can pick up your daughter from now on to our receptionists. A grievous error on the training front that we’ll be sure to remedy as of today.” Mr Whitaker, Gabriella’s principal quivers in his chair staring up at a furious Mr. O’Hara leaning against his desk glaring down at him; his nostrils flaring as he breathes deeply.

“I have half a mind to request that the offending receptionist is fired!” he growls angrily, however he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath and removes his weight off of the principal's desk.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tries to calm himself down. Remembering he’s not dealing with anyone in the mafia, he tries to contain his frustration and bad temper.

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The principal gulps, feeling like he’s just dodged a bullet. His pale face nods in response.

“Y-yes Mr. O’Hara, of course.”

The serious man stalks out of the principal’s office, it appears he is finished with the conversation. Mr. Whitaker breathes a deep sigh of relief the moment he sees the back of Gabriella’s father. Taking his handkerchief, he mops his sweating brow and relaxes in his chair.

Yet another perfect, sunny day blankets the city of Nueva York. The mafia man dons his sunglasses as he leaves his daughter’s school and heads back to his limo that is parked outside the front.

The events of the day before scares Miguel, even now. He always thought he was careful about leaving potential traceable crumbs, leading back to him or his family. Sending that threat to Kingpin perhaps was a rather boastful move and not quite as well thought out. The excitement of scaring and capturing the man responsible for his wife’s death may have got the better of him. He must tread carefully from now on, especially when it seems Kingpin is willing to retaliate on someone as innocent as his daughter. If he ever finds the spy who has been gathering information on him, he’ll make them pay - dearly.

Sliding into his car, Miguel is greeted by the pleasant air conditioning, cooling him down from the rising heat outside.

Knowing that he’s near your home, he makes a request to stop by to deliver something to you. He doesn’t call ahead or text. If you’re in, he’d like it to be a surprise. His gaze rests on the cute box of cupcakes Gabriella made for you with her babysitter the night before while he was on a date with you.

That date… asides from knowing his daughter was safe at home, the evening he shared with you was one of the other good things that came out of that day.

Standing outside your door, the mafia man shakes his head at himself. If his father was alive, he’d despair at the thought of his now powerful son, the head of a mafia gang, waiting to deliver cupcakes to a girl he had only met the day before. Miguel is the first man in a long line of sons to have a daughter. He believes his wife and Gabriella were responsible for warming his once frozen heart.

After waiting for several moments, he assumes you’re out working as there is no answer at your door. Feeling slightly disappointed that he doesn’t get to see you, he gently places the box on the floor, making sure to leave Gabriella’s note out on display.

***

Huffing and puffing, you clamber up your apartment building’s staircase carrying a couple of bags of groceries. A sweet little box sits at the foot of your door, catching your eye the moment you reach your floor. Picking up the note, you giggle when you read who it’s from.

“Hey (Y/N)!

I made these while papa took you out on your date last night. He says you had a good time and I’m very happy that you did!

Thank you for being my hero. I hope I get to see you soon. Maybe we can bake cupcakes together?

Enjoy!

Gabi xx”

Opening the box just a little, you’re greeted with the sweetest of smells. Chocolate cupcakes baked just the night before sat in the box, looking extremely enticing to say the least. Closing the lid again, you gently place the box in one of your shopping bags before getting a key out to unlock your door, except you find it’s already open.

Anxiousness sets in as you explicitly remember locking the door when you left. Pushing the handle down, you slowly open it with caution.

On your couch where you made out and did other very intimate things with Miguel the night before, sat a different mafia boss. Kingpin…

“Hello (Y/N). I hope you don’t mind me dropping by,” he begins with a sly smile.

Eyeing him suspiciously you step further into your apartment and put your bags down.

“I made sure to leave that beautiful little box outside for you to discover. It’s certainly better than the box I had sent to me by that little girl’s father…”

Thoughts run wild in your mind as to what Miguel had sent to Kingpin. A harsh reminder that he is not all love hearts and flowers…

“What do you want, Mr. Fisk?” you ask quietly and as respectfully as possible, however his presence in your apartment is making you feel uncomfortable - especially after he has somehow managed to pick your lock.

“So, you and him are dating huh? How useful,” your boss comments as he runs his stubby fingers over his chin pensively.

He’s thinking, scheming, planning his next move in this realistic game of chess he’s playing with Miguel. Your heart plummets into your stomach. Nausea sets in as your fears are being confirmed.

“About that…” you begin nervously as you fiddle with your fingers. “I don’t mind most jobs I do for you, Mr. Fisk. But if it involves innocent children, I don’t want to-"

“I’m afraid it’s out of your hands to decide what is and what is not appropriate for your involvement (Y/N). Besides, why would I ask anyone else to get to know him, when you’re practically in his lap?”

Just when you thought your heart couldn’t drop any lower, it did. Was the word ‘lap’ a deliberate choice? You make a mental note to search for hidden cameras in your apartment. Just the thought of him watching you grinding on Miguel makes you feel sick.

Sighing heavily, you relent. You have no choice. “All I ask is don’t hurt the girl. It’s not her fault her father is who he is.”

Fisk nods, giving you some form of relief at least. “Very well, you have my word. Little Miss O’Hara won’t get hurt. But this means you must do as I ask of you. Securing her safety comes at a price.”

He stands as he continues to talk. “Get to know him, romance him, get him to trust you, and report every little detail to me, no matter how insignificant you think it might be. I want to know why that man is after me and why he wants me dead.”

Tears prick at your eyes, you look away from Kingpin’s intense stare. “I don’t like lying to him…” you murmur softly.

Warm but slightly clammy hands cup you under your chin, pulling your head to face him again. “But (Y/N), you’re now the sole reason why Mr. O’Hara’s daughter is safe from my clutches. He should be thanking you.”

Finally, he lets go of you but continues to talk.

“I know it’s not easy what I’m asking you to do. But you’re good at your job and you’re in the best position to do it,” he pauses for a moment, “just don’t get too attached…”

A painful dread fills your stomach and you’re pretty sure you’re going to throw up with severe anxiety.

Fisk heads for the front door.

“I’ll expect daily check-ins from you, so get a move on. Maybe arrange that baking session with the girl?” He offers an idea for your next plan of action before leaving your apartment and closing the door behind him.

You’re in utter shock, frozen in fear and sick with worry. The urge to cry is overwhelming. Last night you let your guard down and allowed yourself to get close to Miguel and now you’re running the risk of hurting both him and his daughter. Fisk’s grip on you is too strong. You know he’ll be unwilling to let you leave as you know too much and he has a use for you.

Knowing that your boss will be expecting a daily update, you slide your phone out of your pocket to get to work on your assignment. Your shaking hands makes texting all the more difficult.

“Hey Miguel. Found the box of cupcakes. Tell Gabi I say thank you and I look forward to having a taste.” You pause as a wave of nausea washes over you. Of course the cupcakes are now going to be bittersweet after the conversation you have just had with your boss. “I’d love to bake with her sometime. Just say when and where and I’ll be there! xx”

You hit send and slip the phone back in your pocket, then you start to put your groceries away to try and distract yourself.

***

Bloodied rubber gloves snap as Miguel pulls them off of his hands. He discards them in a bin reserved for items to be incinerated. Observing his knuckles, he notices they’re now sporting bright red and purple bruises. Despite the pain and the unattractive look about them, he smiles. Exiting the restroom in the Web, he greets Lyla who’s been waiting for him outside.

“Did you enjoy your gift?” she asks with a cheeky smile.

The sound of a cell phone buzzing vibrates from the mafia boss's back trouser pocket.

“I did - be sure to thank Hobie for fetching him for me. Peter’s dying to have his turn with the bastard tomorrow.”

Reaching into his back pocket and taking his phone, he reads the text he’s just received. An even brighter smile crosses his face as he sees it’s from you. He reads your message and begins to reply.

“Perfect! How about this coming Saturday? M.” He texts back, hoping the bruises on his knuckles will have vanished by then.

Lyla watches with intrigue, noticing his smile and a gleam in his eyes.

“Who is she?”

Miguel’s eyes snap up to Lyla suddenly after her intrusive question.

“No one…”

“C’mon boss, you never look at your phone and smile,” she pauses, “unless you have wind or something...”

“Shut up.”

He shoots Lyla a ‘ha, you’re so funny’ glare.

“Actually - you have been a little more chipper lately boss; you’re ‘getting some’ aren’t you?” Lyla grins with glee as she riles Miguel up.

“Another word on the subject, Lyla, and you’re losing your bonus for finding Fisk’s name.”

His PA grimaces in a cartoonish fashion and then sniggers.

“Alright! Alright! Sensitive much…” Lyla retorts. “What do you want to do about your latest addition to the Alchemax / ‘Kingpin’s goons’ collection?”

“Get Hobie to drag the kidnapping scum back into his cell. He’s unconscious so he won’t be kicking and screaming this time…”

***

Late Saturday morning, you nervously climb into the back of Miguel’s limo. He’s in his penthouse waiting with his daughter for you to arrive. You should be feeling excited, but instead you feel sick with nerves. Damn Fisk. Damn this whole thing. You’ve been single for ages now and the one time you find someone who you actually like, you have to freaking spy on him and betray his trust.

The only bit of information you have provided - reluctantly - to Kingpin so far is the fact that Miguel had a wife who died a few years ago.

You watch as the buildings go by while the limo drives through the city. Scanning each high-rise building, you wonder which one he lives in. What a wonderful view to wake up to every morning. Looking out over the city, like a King surveying his land.

A sensation of fluttering butterflies and wriggling worms combined stirred in your stomach. “Get to know him, romance him, get him to trust you.” Fisk’s words circled around your mind in a taunting fashion, driving you mad. You have even made an effort today. You painted your nails, put on a pretty pink dress, put makeup on and sprayed your favourite perfume, although annoyingly, you’ll now associate treachery and lies with the sweet, floral smell resting on your skin.

The limo finally pulls up outside a grand white towering building. A renewed sense of nervousness washes over you, disturbing those butterflies and worms in your stomach once again.

Climbing out of the limo, you look up at the building, tilting your head right back to see the top. Before entering the wide double doors on the ground floor, you reluctantly and indignantly take note of the address to offer as a nugget of information to Kingpin. An ache in your heart causes you to wince as you store your phone back in your bag. You haven’t seen him yet and you’re already gathering intel against him. Dread fills you once again the moment you think about what he’d do to you if he ever found out.

Stepping into the lift, you press the button for the penthouse as you take several deep breaths to calm your fraught nerves.

***

“Papa! She’s here!” you hear a muffled but excited young girl’s voice through the penthouse’s door as you wait for them to answer.

“Si mija, yo se,” (yes darling, I know) you hear her father respond in Spanish.

The door clicks as it unlocks and opens. You're greeted by an excited young girl and a smiling father whose eyes wander over your sweet appearance.

Gabi steps forward and takes your hand, pulling you in rather abruptly. You couldn’t help but giggle at her impatience to get things started.

“(Y/N)! I’ve got all the ingredients out ready for us to begin, come on, the kitchen’s this way!”

Miguel’s eyes catch yours as he mouths the word ‘sorry’, watching you be whisked past him. Closing the door, he then turns to see the back of you, your dress swishing with every step as you continue to make your way to their grand penthouse kitchen. Gabriella has been talking nonstop about you all morning. She’s been itching to spend some girly time with someone who’s willing. Miguel only hopes you enjoy the baking date with her.

“What flavour frosting shall we use? Chocolate? Lemon? Or strawberry?” The girl's eyes are wild with excitement, she’s practically skipping as she pulls you to the countertop with the ingredients laid out neatly.

“Why not all three flavours?” you offer as a suggestion as you crouch down to get closer to her height.

“Yes!” she squeaked enthusiastically.

Her bright face makes you instantly forget your troubles. They both have this effect on you that when you spend time with them you feel you’ve known them for ages. You click instantly.

Before you get to work weighing out the ingredients and helping Gabi with the cake mixture, you feel a sudden warm presence loom behind you. A cute apron is wrapped around you by Miguel with a charming smile spread across his lips.

“So you don’t ruin that pretty dress,” he whispers as you turn your head to face him slightly.

He returns your gaze as you feel him tie a bow behind your back around your waist to make sure the apron stays close to your body.

“Thank you,” you reply breathlessly as you feel his warm breath fan over your face.

“You’re welcome. I’ll preheat the oven…” he murmurs softly to you before stepping away, turning some dials on the kitchen appliance to switch it on and set the temperature.

With a light dusting of flour over Gabriella’s face - you have no clue how it got there - she tries to mix the ingredients together. Her little tongue poking out as she concentrates. As they begin to mix, it becomes more difficult for her much smaller arms to manage.

Rolling up his rather fetching white button-up shirt sleeves, Miguel steps forward.

“Want some help mija?”

“No papa, I want (Y/N) to help me.”

“Oh, okay…” he says, looking mildly surprised and a little disappointed.

It’s clear he’s not used to being turned down for help.

To keep everyone happy, you come up with an idea as a smile forms across your face.

“I’ll mix it for you, but maybe you should let your papa lick the spoon once the cupcakes are in the oven?” Gabi nods enthusiastically at you in response.

A light chuckle comes from Miguel as he sits at the kitchen table and watches the adorable sight before him. Gabriella always seems fairly happy, but today, she’s positively beaming. He observes you cradle the bowl in your arm while you mix the ingredients together. Dragging the spoon all around the sides, making sure you get everything thoroughly mixed. His daughter is transfixed on you, so is he, but both of them are looking at you for different reasons. One seeing you as a potential mother figure, the other, a potential partner to share his life with.

Of course there are hurdles to get over if the relationship did become serious. He couldn’t not tell you about his involvement in the criminal world. How would you react? Run for the hills he wagers… Despite only knowing you for a short time, he and Gabi seem to already consider you as the perfect person; the link they’re missing to keep a strong, loving family unit. His heart falls at the prospect of all that potential crumbling away because the idea of having a criminal husband scares you.

The clean, spacious and luxurious living area soon fills with the sweet smell of cakes baking in the oven. As Gabi passes the mixing spoon to her father, you take the time to observe the décor and furniture.

The prominent colour is white, hence the cleanliness vibes. The furniture, very sleek and modern. A large widescreen TV looming proudly against a wall in the open plan living room. You can imagine it being like a home cinema experience, huddled up on the sofa, sharing popcorn. A smile breaks across your face as you picture it in your mind. The father and daughter duo has an enviable setup here, although this penthouse is rather large just for the both of them.

You watch Miguel as he licks the spoon before playfully dabbing a small dollop of the cake mixture on his daughter’s nose. They both laugh. Your heart melts at the sight before an ice cold sensation suddenly takes hold. The reason you’re here in their penthouse and it wasn’t just for playing happy families, you have to get more information on him.

An alarm beeps away in the kitchen indicating the cupcakes are ready. The irresistible smell of freshly baked cakes fills the nostrils and warms the heart. Gabriella cheers excitedly as she watches you grab a pair of oven gloves and carefully take the baking tray out.

You prepare three frosting bags and help Gabi pipe pink, yellow and brown delicious toppings onto the cupcakes. They did look mouth-wateringly tasty, you have to admit.

Sweet creamy chocolate and vanilla flavours dance across your tongue as you enjoy the delightful treat. You hold out your hand to Gabriella hinting at wanting to give her a high five. She reciprocates and a quick slapping sound fills the air as both of your palms collide.

“Well done you. These are tasty Gabi,” you compliment her with enthusiasm.

“You helped! We made them together. Teamwork - yeah!”

Both you and Miguel chuckle at her as she raises her arms triumphantly before she turns to her father.

“Papa, can I take some cupcakes with me to uncle Gabri’s tonight? I think he’d like some too.”

“Sure mija. Go grab a couple.”

She runs off to go choose some to take to her uncle’s. You raise an eyebrow at Miguel as he sidles up to you. 

“My brother Gabriel said he’d take her tonight if you fancy staying for dinner at least?”

Your heart flutters. Another evening with Miguel the mafia man? While maintaining a smile, you feel a slight pang of anxiety strike too. This is exactly what Kingpin wants, but it’s also what you desire, for different reasons. You can’t resist, even if you didn’t have to gather intel. Spending at least an evening alone with Miguel sounded absolutely perfect.

***

It’s time for Gabriella to go for the night. She greets her funcle - yes - funcle, Gabriel at the front door of the penthouse. Miguel shakes his head at the two as Gabi goes running up to uncle Gabri and gets swooped up in his wide open arms.

“I always wonder why you get a far more enthusiastic greeting from my daughter than I do…” Miguel smirks as he approaches with a small bag full of Gabi’s things for the night.

Gabriel scruffs his niece’s hair as she hugs him.

“I dunno bro, maybe ‘cause we eat candy for dinner or she stays up way past her bedtime when she’s with me,” the wild, red haired brother replies as he sets Gabriella back down on the floor.

“OR,” he pauses, looking as though he’s been struck by an idea, “we share a special bond over incredibly similar names - good choice by the way…” He winks at his not so impressed brother.

Miguel gives his brother a stern eyebrow raise and glare as if to say ‘you better not be feeding her candy for dinner…’

“And that’s why she greets me like she does!” He then turns to Gabi and holds his finger up to his lips like their future dinner plans will now be their little secret.

You chuckle as you enjoy watching the cute family dynamic going on between the three. But the acoustics of the place carries your little laugh right into Gabri’s ears, causing him to look up. For a second he thinks he hears his deceased sister-in-law. His wide eyes land on you.

“Ah, this is she huh?” he asks his brother with interest.

Gabriel has never seen Miguel with a woman since his wife’s untimely death. His brother nods quietly in response. 

“Cool apron…” he says as he waves from across the room.

You look down, you forgot you were still wearing it.

“Oh…”

As you untie the apron, the ‘funcle’ turns back to his brother.

“Sheesh bro, you’ve known her for five minutes and you’re already getting her to cook for you?” he jokes, but winces and ducks out of the way from a lame, half hearted slap from Miguel. Gabi giggles at her father’s and uncle’s behaviour.

“Uncle Gabri, (Y/N) and I baked cupcakes. I’ve packed some for us to have later.”

“Oh fun! That could be our midnight snack or breakfast tomorrow- I’m kidding!”

Another duck from yet another slap from his brother.

Miguel’s extended hand that went in for a slap eventually landed on Gabriel’s shoulder and pats him firmly.

“Have fun - not too much fun though. Look after her-“ Miguel steps closer and speaks quietly, “any sign of trouble, call me. I don’t care what time it is…”

Gabri nods with an understanding expression on his face.

“Sure,” he replies before taking his niece’s bag and reaching out to take her hand.

“Be good mija,” Miguel says to his daughter before giving her a kiss and a cuddle.

“She’s an angel with me.” Gabriel retorts playfully, referring to their namesake causing Miguel to roll his eyes.

“Well, don’t forget what that makes me…” Gabi’s father folds his arms.

“Oh boy, come on Gabi, your father’s pulling the archangel Michael card again… he’s so predictable,” he drawls before grinning widely.

With a final duck from another pathetic slap attempt, Gabriel waves at you then to his brother when it’s safe to stand up straight again.

“Hopefully I’ll see you around (Y/N)! Nice to meet you!” he calls out.

You wave back with a smile.

“Nice to meet you too!”

With that, the two leave after Gabi waves goodbye to you too.

Silence fills the room momentarily.

“And then there were two…” Miguel comments as he saunters towards you causing your heart to flutter.

His gaze wanders over you and what you’re wearing. He stops walking when he reaches a comfortable distance between the two of you.

“Thanks for baking with Gabi. She was so excited about it. I just hope she wasn’t too much for you.”

“Are you kidding? I had a blast with her! You have the sweetest kid in the world.”

A slight blush accompanies a look of pride growing across his face.

“I’m glad you think so… it’s hard work being a single parent.”

“You’ve done a brilliant job, honestly.”

A flicker of sadness flashes across his face, but he blinks and clears his throat, denying the pain he still clearly feels for losing his wife.

“Well, now it’s just us two,” he says, refreshing his expression once again, making an effort to sound more chipper.

Miguel makes his way into the kitchen. Reaching into a cabinet, he takes out two wine glasses. After placing them on the countertop, he opens the wine chiller and takes out a bottle.

“Your brother seems like fun…”

“Oh, don’t encourage him. He’s insufferable if anyone inflates his ego.” 

You snort. The sibling banter and bickering is something you totally adore.

The brothers look very similar too, except for the difference in hair colour. There’s some good, strong, handsome genetics at play there. However, you feel Miguel is the better of the two.

“Who’s the oldest?” you ask as you watch him begin to pour chilled white wine into the two glasses.

Miguel gives a toothy grin, making you assume that he’s the eldest brother. Which seems accurate. The older sibling being the more serious one, while the younger is funny and carefree.

You sit at the kitchen table while you watch Miguel start to cook dinner.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you ask for possibly the fifth time already.

“I’m fine. You baked earlier, I cook,” he responds, speaking over the sizzling fillets of steak in the frying pan.

The scent of the cooking meat, marinade and spices permeates the air, causing your stomach to rumble when you smell it.

“What are we having for dinner again?” you ask before taking a sip of your cool, dry white wine.

“Carne Asada - a popular Mexican dish.”

You can understand why, it smelt incredible! While he cooks the steak, he also prepares fresh green vegetables, and potatoes drizzled in a vinaigrette. Just the thought of eating it makes you salivate.

“Dinner is served,” Miguel says a few moments later as he brings the plates to the table.

The food smells even better now it’s up close and directly under your nose.

“Do you enjoy cooking?” you ask him as he takes his seat opposite you.

“Yeah, when I have time for it. I don’t cook as much as I’d like to. But it’s enjoyable when I do.”

Taking your first mouthful is exquisite. The taste of the tender, juicy steak mixed with the spices and marinade danced across your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan, causing Miguel to double-take at you.

“Oh God. This is incredible!”

“That’s a first, I’ve never made someone moan with my cooking before,” he pauses as he considers something, “but I rarely entertain people so maybe that’s why.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just busy. Work life, single parent life, just hardly in the mood to entertain,” another pause, “it’s been great having you here today though. I’ve enjoyed it. It’d be nice to have you around again,” he says hopefully.

“Well, I feel honoured to be part of the lucky few you do entertain.”

Miguel snorts at your words.

“Lucky few? Lucky one.”

You should feel special about that. In normal circumstances you would. But you feel awful, that the one person he wants to invite over is the one person he really shouldn’t. Taking another mouthful, you try to hide your discomfort and guilt.

Indignation grows inside of you, bubbling away in your mind. You really like him. It seems like a cruel twist of fate that you’re enjoying getting to know the man you’re supposed to be spying on. The man who your boss has designs on eliminating. You absolutely despise the situation you’re in.

“I’m really touched, it’s so sweet that you’ve opened up your home to me, despite your regular commitments.”

Guilt is racking up in your mind exponentially. Parts of you are tempted to self sabotage, crumble in front of him and tell him the full reason why you agreed to visit him today. Maybe he won’t take it as badly as you expect? Or maybe he will? Would he offer you protection, if he wasn’t overwhelmed with the feeling of being betrayed? There is so much uncertainty, you decide to keep your mouth shut, despite the unbearable discomfort of the truth wanting to burst out of you.

The both of you continue to eat the delicious food together while maintaining a pleasant conversation. As time goes by, you start to feel contact as his leg finds yours under the table. It felt warm and inviting. You’re suddenly reminded of the intimate moments you shared on your date, triggering a blush to spread across your cheeks immediately. You both share a glance in silence. His tempting gaze tugs at your heart, enticing you to want him.

Just before you are totally ready to spring across the table and kiss him passionately, he moves to take the empty plates to the sink. He’s teasing you, you just know it.

“How about dessert?” he asks, chuckling slightly after seeing your growing indignation as he gets up from the table.

Maybe he wants you to give in and beg him to take you? But you’re stronger than that. You can play his game.

“Dessert sounds perfect.”

“I have strawberries. They’re nice and sweet.”

“I’d love some.”

He brings a bowl full of the juicy red fruit and sets it down on the table. But instead of taking the seat opposite, he now sits next to you, wearing a charming smile on his face. His radiating warmth, melting away your worries temporarily, replacing them with comfort.

The strawberries look sweet and succulent, probably grown in very fertile earth and in the perfect climate. You can only imagine how they’ll taste. You move to take one but his hand stops you. He shakes his head, that teasing stare returning.

“Let me, cariño,” he whispers.

You gulp as you squeeze your legs together. The anticipation is driving you wild.

Picking up a strawberry, he brings it to your lips.

“Careful, these can be very juicy. But they’re incredibly moreish.”

You take a bite, your teeth cutting into the flesh of the delicious fruit. Its sweetness delighting your tastebuds immediately. You manage to bite half of it, then watch in surprise as he eats the remainder.

“Oh my God, these are delicious.”

Miguel smiles at your reaction. He’s clearly enjoying setting the mood and upping the sexual tension.

“They are, aren’t they?"

He takes another; feeding you again, which you’re now very much willing to accept.

Each time he feeds you, he leans closer. It starts off subtle, but you suddenly notice when you feel his warm breath fan across your face.

The next strawberry is particularly juicy and full of flavour. You suddenly move to try and stop it from dripping from your lips but you squeal in surprise when he leans in, sealing his mouth on yours. His tongue makes sure that none of the sweet nectar from the fruit is wasted. A moan vibrates against your lips as he enjoys the taste of the fruit and your pretty mouth.

Putting the half eaten strawberry back down in the bowl, he scoops you up off your chair and carries you bridal style up the stairs to his bedroom.

***

A trail of clothes leads up to his bed. First are your shoes, then his. Next, your dress - he had to put you down for that. Then his shirt - which you assisted him in. Even closer to the bed are his trousers.

On the bed, your shaking legs are held wide open as he enjoys a different kind of nectar. Your nectar. Hanging from one ankle is your panties while he holds your legs in place, his tongue, teasing, licking and flicking your sensitive bud and your dripping pussy. Lapping hungrily at your nether region as if he hadn’t just eaten dinner. Fingers digging into the soft, smooth flesh of your thighs as he enjoys eating you out. He lays flat on the bed with his head firmly between your legs. His eager hips grind sensually against the duvet and mattress.

He loves hearing your needy moans and your helpless little whimpers. Feeling your body shake and writhe only encouraged him to do it with even more conviction.

“Cariño, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since our evening out together,” he mumbles seductively after coming up for air.

You moan due to the absence of his mouth around your clit. His words are sweet and you love them, but they drag up yet more guilt within you. You wish he would just simply continue doing what he’s doing.

“Do you feel the same hermosa?”

From between your quivering thighs, his gaze meets yours in an intense but enticing manner. How can you resist that face?

“Of course I can’t stop thinking about you- Oh God!”

At the end of your reply, he goes back in for another round of licking and teasing, cutting your words off. You arch your back off of the bed as he resumes with fervour. He begins to groan as you notice his body moving more, his hips still grinding into the mattress.

“I-” he licks you, “want-” he sucks on you, “you-” he flicks you with his tongue, “cariño…” his words die out at the end as he leans back in again. The motions of his tongue feel even stronger this time. You squeal in delight as you can’t resist throwing your hands down to his gorgeous, brown, slicked back hair.

To add to the delightful sensations between your legs, you feel two fingers run up and down your sensitive folds, getting soaked with your arousal. Eventually they plunge in, twisting and pumping gently as he slowly pulls his mouth away from your swelling bud. Before you can complain, his thumb replaces his lips, pressing firmly and running in a circular motion.

“Are you on any birth control (Y/N)?” he asks, his voice ragged and full of lust.

You nod between heavy pants and loud moans of pleasure.

He shifts himself further up your body, his hand remaining in place between your legs. You get a taste of yourself as he presses his lips against yours in a passionate and heated kiss. A muffled groan enters your mouth from his, as his arousal starts to take over.

Slowly he got on his knees after breaking the kiss with you. Before you is an unforgettable sight. You knew he had a nice shape about him and there’d be some muscle definition. But this body in front of you is a body made by the Gods. His hands travelled to the top of his boxer briefs, a large bulge underneath catches your attention. You had a feeling that he was big from when you ground against it the other night, but not that big. Your legs squeeze together, wondering how the hell he’s going to fit.

As he pulls down the material of his boxer briefs, you finally see exactly how big he is. You couldn’t stop yourself from gasping.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim as you sit up on the bed, definitely squeezing your legs together.

Miguel chuckles as he tosses his boxer briefs aside and rests his hands on your shoulders. You feel him gently push you back, laying you down against his soft bed sheets.

“Relax (Y/N). We’ll go slow, I promise. You’ll be surprised at just how much you’ll be able to fit.”

Leaning down over the top of you, he begins to kiss your lips and slowly travels over your jawbone, down your neck to your collarbone. His fingers burrow underneath you and unclasps your bra, freeing your beautiful breasts for him.

“Such a beauty,” he whispers after stopping peppering your neck with kisses.

“Muy bonita…”

You feel him kiss your neck again, tenderly, gently and sweetly. His heat radiates down upon you, giving you that delicious melting sensation along your spine. The sheer weight and size of this man presses down into the mattress. On one hand, his build makes you feel safe and protected, but on the other, you feel in certain danger. What he ends up knowing about you will decide whether you’ll be locked in his secure embrace, or locked in a cold, dank cell.

“Can I take you as I am, or should I find a condom?” he murmurs against your neck; his voice, deep, heavy and full of desire. You can’t bear the thought of his hot, comforting body leaving you again to go looking for a condom, and you’re on the pill so you give him permission to enter you as nature intended.

Miguel’s large frame shifts again over you as he positions himself at your entrance. Your heart pounds as you feel he’s about to perform a magic trick - making his entire length disappear.

“I’ll go slow…” he assures you as the large head of his cock kisses your entrance.

With a nod in response, you tell him it’s okay to proceed. Slowly, he pushes into you. Your whole body tenses and your breath hitches at the gradual invasion. As promised; he’s gentle, slow and tender. Pausing occasionally, allowing you to stretch around his long, thick throbbing shaft. Making it easier for you to accommodate him.

He pushes forward even further. Unable to resist, you close your eyes as you take even more. He’s right, you are surprised by just how much of him you’re taking.

Small, dainty fingers graze his sides, causing his body to jolt slightly at your tickling touch. You hear a deep throaty groan spilling from his lips, prizing your eyes open, you observe his brows furrowing with blissful pleasure, which in turn makes you lose your composure.

He’s inside you, his panting breath fans over your face while his strong arms cage you underneath him. Those handsome eyes turn you into mush as you return his gaze.

“You’re taking me so well, cariño,” he praises you, drawing his cock almost all the way back out again. Your jaw drops as you suddenly feel empty. That is soon remedied however as he starts once more, slowly pushing back in, but a fraction faster this time.

“Aah! Miguel!” you call out in pleasure as he fills you again, stretching your warm, needy pussy.

You find that you love his praise, especially when he whispers it to you so close to your ear. His warm breath spreads tingles like wildfire all over your body.

As you wrap around his eager length, your limbs cling onto him as if you’re holding on for dear life. He smirks down at you as he watches you adjust, however he feels both his and your body are now demanding for something a bit faster paced.

Gradually, his tempo speeds up while he adds grinding against your clit into the mix. The charming smirk spreads wider as he observes you melt further into the bed, crying out for more.

“You feel so good and you’re doing so, so well.”

His praise takes it all to the next level. You feel you can take him even faster and at a greater intensity.

“Fuck me M-Miguel!” you splutter with urgency in your voice.

“You want me to fuck you cariño?”

“Yes - please!”

“Tell me to stop at any time if it gets too much.”

You watch his jaw clench, his muscles tense and you hear a grunt; just as he gives an almighty thrust. Drawing almost all the way out, he slams back into you. Your body immediately responds. Every single nerve ending ignites. All muscles tense. Your lungs suddenly draw in a sharp intake of air.

“Miguel!” you moan loudly.

He’s pounding into you, pumping his dick hard and fast in and out. A sex fueled haze fogs your mind as you become drunk on the pleasure of his shaft penetrating you.

“That’s it cariño, call out my name…” he purrs with heavy lidded eyes.

You repeat as he maintains his punishing thrusts. Each time you cry out his name, he moans and tilts his head back. His name spilling from your lips is like music to his ears.

He feels so good inside of you that you never want him to leave. It’s like he’s filling a piece of you that you didn’t know was missing. Watching him on top of you, dominating you, fucking you made you wish this moment would last forever. At this moment, you’re not spying on him, you’re not betraying him, you’re not working for the opposition. The world around you is reduced to nothing, everything else other than you two is insignificant.

Miguel’s grunts signifying his intense effort fogs your mind further, his moans of pleasure builds that tightening in your core. You’re clenching around his cock, you’re close.

“Fuck, hermosa. Cum for me- Oh fuck!”

You both erupt with pleasure as you climax. His thrusts slow but they deepen inside you. Lowering his body, he presses himself against you, seeking that blissful contact with your skin. His hot and heavy breaths fan and caress against your face and neck as you cry out his name multiple times. Your bodies glisten with sweat after the intense lovemaking session.

The sound of sweet and tender kisses fill the air as the afterglow sets in. He remains inside, but you notice he’s gradually softening. An undeniable and sad ache fills your core knowing that he’ll be departing you soon and reality will return.

He draws himself out of you, sparking a sob you didn’t know you had in you to erupt and tears well in your eyes.

Immediately his brows furrowed with concern.

“Cariño? Que pasa?”

His hands cup under your chin as he monitors you.

And now the lying begins… The stress of doing what Kingpin is asking of you is rising higher inside you. But you can’t tell Miguel that.

“I’m sorry,” you sob again. “It felt too good. I didn’t want it to end.”

It isn’t exactly a lie. You really didn’t want it to end. It felt incredible and it was a perfect distraction from reality.

Laying next to you, he pulls you into his arms, positioning you half on top of him.

“You had me worried, cariño. Never have I ever made a girl cry during or just after sex. I’m just glad it’s good crying.”

His hand plays with your hair idly as has your head resting against his perfectly chiselled chest.

“Heh… yeah… good crying…” you reply.

The comforting sound of his heart beating in your ear starts to calm your nerves. You feel soothed as he strokes your hair.

“Well, I guess it’s encouraging in a way. It means you want more.”

A tired smile breaks across your face as your fingertips wander over his chest and abs.

“I definitely do want more.”

The mafia man kisses the top of your head delicately.

“Your wish is my command, just say the word.”

***

That evening, the dark of the night shrouds Fisk tower. Lights still illuminate a handful of windows at that late hour. One of the lit windows is Kingpin’s, right at the very top.

The large mafia boss paces his room as one of his staff gives him some news.

“We’ve tried getting hold of Russell several times in the last few days, there’s no response. We think he’s been taken by O’Hara.”

Fisk slams his hands down on the desk angrily. Frustration builds inside him. Yet another disappearance, but this time it’s one of his own men and not someone from Alchemax. He supposed it didn’t take O’Hara long to work out who was behind the abduction attempt. It’s clear that someone who works for the opposition’s leader is talented at tracking people down.

“Damnit!” he seethes.

“Any word on Mr. Garcia?”

“No news on his whereabouts sir, however, what confuses us about him is that his wife has also gone missing.”

A deep frustrated sigh vents from Fisk’s lips. Staring into the distance he tries to solve the puzzle himself. The names of the missing people from Alchemax circles in his mind. The name O’Hara also starts to ring a distinct bell. His eyebrows rise slightly as an idea strikes him.

“Fetch me a folder labelled 2099 from the archives,” Kingpin demands, his voice a deep growl.

----------

Part 5

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[diejager]

hiiiii! can i request a miguel x reader? miguel is a big shady business man (kinda like king pen) who owns a strip club and reader is one of the strippers who everyone knows not to mess with since she’s miguel’s girl. a guy starts sexually harassing reader and miguel kicks his ass and puts him in his place. if you’re cormfortable, i would like smut ❤️

Property Cw: smut, possessive behaviour, DUB-CON, worshipping, sex workers, strip club, pimp, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, marking, stripper/sex worker!reader, tell me if I missed any.

Despite the place being a strip club - one on the higher end of the city - there was one rule that it followed to a T without exception: do not touch the workers without consent, yet this pig decided to forgo this fundamental rule put in place in ever strip club and touched you when you’ve told him many times to back off. His sweaty and grabby hands moving across your skin left you shuddering, his hands leaving you feeling disgusted by his touch.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, moving between the bodies to get away from the man.

“C’mon babe!” He moved to try to grab you, insistent that he only wanted to share a drink and talk, “Please! One lap dance!”

Men like him just couldn’t take no, it frustrated you. That might’ve been what he said : one lap dance, but you knew his type, he would demand for more after you were done and become forceful if you didn’t comply. You tried to distance yourself from him, your heels thumping quietly on the velvet flooring, hurried and annoyed while the man followed you, his fingers grazing the naked skin of your shoulder. You wore a blue teddy, the darkest shade of navy strapped to your skin, the bust acting as a corset to push out your breasts and the thin fabric cupping the swell of your ass. It was almost sheer, the few ribbons and decorative texture hiding anything too intimate from the public and garter straps holding your sheer stockings up your thighs. Your attire seemed to be the source of his obsession and of his liking, even following you to the boss’s VIP corner.

“No!” You swung your arm back, hurrying to the bodyguards standing between the VIP and public area of the club, “I told you-”

In your frantic hiss, you walked into a wall, groaning softly. The wall was more so a wall of sculpted muscle than a plaster and drywall, a firm hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his protective embrace. A wide and firm palm gripped your stomach, kneading the soft flesh under the lingerie.

“When she says no, it means no, cabrón,” Miguel growled, his broad stature overshadowing the man that followed you. When you turned your head, Miguel had his wrist in hand, the man winced and whimpered at the tight hold, strength threatening to break his wrist, “You got that?”

He nodded, running away with his tail tucked between his legs, out of the club and as far as he could from the beast that held you gently. Turning you around, he led you up the stairs connected to his upstairs suite, a personal balcony that overlooked the proudest part of his kingdom.

“He’s done.”

He wouldn’t be coming back, once Miguel gave the order, the person wouldn't ever be allowed back into any of his establishments. He had rules that he wanted to be respected, towards his employees and especially you, his sweet girl that he picked up from the previous pimp in the area he now controlled with an iron fist towards the cruel and abusive.

His mezzanine was spacious, a soft, faux leather couch, a black able and a private bar area in a corner for him to indulge in his drunken pleasures with or without guests. You’ve always liked this place, a distance from the music and crowd on the ground floor, it was a solace in the busy club. He sat you on the table, the cool surface making you flinch while he faced you, the leather dipping with his weight. He tenderly cradled your cheeks, thumb running along the curve of your painted lips, his eyes roving down your coverage, smooth skin uncovered to his hungry eyes and calling for him.

“Oh, mi dulce Musa,” he cooed, his lips kissing a line down your neck, the dip of your collar, the smell of your breasts and the warmth of your cunt, wetness pooling over the fabric of the teddy he gifted you. “I’m happy you came to me first.”

He hooked a thigh over his shoulder, spreading you on your back as he slipped a finger under your lace, pulling it aside to look at your glistening folds. Sliding two fingers between your labia and collecting your slick on his calloused pads, spreading them open to admire your cunt, clenching around air —hungry for his thick digits. He bowed his head, pressing a kiss on your throbbing clit, pulsing and needy, circling the entrance of your drooling hole, feeling it clench. Wrapping his lips around your nub, he sucked on it as he plunged in, two fingers stretching your tight warmth, guiding his hand in and out.

You cried out, bucking your hips against his rugged face, grinding upwards with a slow mewl. You felt stretched wide, a finger of his counted two of yours, long and sturdy, pumping into you with a goal in mind, tapping your gummy, sweet spot and pulling you apart from the seams. You moaned, shuddering under him, body wracked with tremors when he pumped a third finger, untangling you from the seams of your salacious and confident image you built from your time as a sex worker. You were a wanton mess, back arching and legs quaking, painted nails curled around Miguel’s hair, pleasure coiled tightly in your core.

His pace was steady, hand driving in deeply, coaxing more slick out of you, curling against your warmth. You clung to him desperately, head thrown back and teary eyed as you balanced on the precipice of your climax, an agonising thrum of pleasure beating between your thighs. Sensing your end, he rolled your clit with the tip of his tongue, giving you a bit of solace before he sunk his teeth into the meat of your thigh. You wailed, jerking around as your pussy closed around his fingers, your heat squirting over his hand. It was a blinding fire, eyes rolling back into a white cloud, sightless after your earth-shattering orgasm.

He whispered sweet compliments, laving over the bloodied mark with the flat of his tongue, slowly pumping in and out of you until you rode off your release, legs still shaking and hands still curled around his head. He kissed his bite, red eyes drinking in your debauched figure with his mark, a sign of ownership over you, the red indentation of his teeth bleeding you.

“Mía. Mi dulce Musa,” he whispered, gazing at you lovingly, predatory eyes glowing bright red under his lashes and wild curls.

Taglist: @yas-v @elliewilliamsbae @rinieloliver

[meowhara]

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

tw : abuse, mistreatment, usage of bad languages, death, kidnapping

synopsis : In a world where hybrids are becoming a common thing. Scientists sells their experiments for a very high price in auctions, making it possible for anyone with such kind of money to own a hybrid or even more

author's note : OMG! this will be my very first fanfic ever. I hope y'all enjoy this little fanfic I made in such a very short time. I'm so so sorry if there's anything wrong with my grammars or maybe you got confused by how I write things in general. English isn't my first language :)

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Experimenting with human beings are normal by now all around the world, making hybrids one of the most expensive and valuable assets. They're usually sold with a very high price in auctions, anyone who's able to lay a hand on those hybrids must be some very crazy rich and lucky people.

You're those kind of fine breed, sold for an unbelievably high price. But sadly luck wasn't on your side due to how irresponsible your new owner is. He never took care of you like how people should took care of hybrids. He abandoned you, feeding you poorly, using you only for your small and fragile body. Treating you like an animal and make you do his daily chores such as cooking, cleaning, and even doing his laundry. But you never complain, there's nothing you can do and nowhere to escape.

You don't even know how the hell he was able to purchase you from the auction since he doesn't even look like a wealthy man at all. Who's job is only to sell and purchase drugs from here and there then spend shit ton of money for women and other useless things. He woke up late at the day just to hurt you then leave and came back late at night. Sometimes he didn't even bother to come back home, leaving you hungry and lonely inside his small and packed house in the middle of nowhere.

For the past moths he has been stealing drugs from Mafia!Miguel. Miguel tried to track him down for months without any avail and lost him every single time. After learning your owner's pattern for months, he's finally able to caught him off guard.

But the bastard ran back home and hide just before Miguel catch him. Your owner ran back home and locked the doors, telling you to shut the fuck up if anyone come over to look for him and to not tell his whereabouts.

Miguel is one step ahead this time and he's able to track your owner's house. He then banged on the door which made you jumped in surprise. "Open the damn door, you bastard! I know you're inside." He shouted as he kept banging on the door with his men following and standing by behind him, guns in their hands.

Innocently, you walk over the door and open the door slightly ajar and peeked outside just to met his eyes. Miguel was shocked when his eyes met with your big vulnerable eyes and fluffy bunny ears, looking almost as if you're pleading with a small pout on your face. "Yes?" You said shyly with shaky voice. Miguel looks back at his men in confusion then look back at you. "Hello, little one. Is there anyone inside?" He asked, trying to be less intimidating and as friendly as possible in order not to scare you. You hesitated to answer but you shook your head anyway, since it's seems like the only safe answer to give. He examines your beautiful and small figure from head to toe just to find bruises everywhere then to your dirty clothes that you're wearing. You look up at him with tired eyes and flat expression, making you look like a broken doll.

Miguel is not buying your obvious lie. "Are you sure? You look... Tired. Are you okay?" He asked again. You just nod and rush to close the door but Miguel stopped you from doing so. He grabbed on the door and push it back open, making you stumbling back from the force. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. But I need to take a look inside, okay?" He gave signals to his men to search the house for your owner.

He didn't expect you to panic and starts shouting at him "No! Please! Master will get mad." You said as your eyes starts to well in tears, "He'll hit me and lock me up in the basement again..." You said while sobbing and pulling on his sleeve. Miguel can feel his heart breaking into pieces from how adorably you cried in front of him. As he wanted to hug you and calm you down, his men came back and drags your owner with them. He got a black eye on his right eye due to a hard blow given by Miguel's men right on his face when he tried to run away. They throw him on the floor to force him to get on his knees in front of Miguel.

When your eyes met his you ran towards your master in worry. "Master! Are you okay?" You got on your knees to check on him, even if he's a very cruel and irresponsible master you can't help but feel worried of him getting hurt. But instead of getting any answer back from him, he gave you a very hard and strong punch on the face. You stumbled back in shock and whimpers in pain as you cover your face with your palms from the fear and pain. "You useless bitch! I told you not to let them in!" As he's about to hit you again, Miguel stepped forward to protect you and kick that bastard's stomach with full force in anger. He still couldn't believe that a little angle like you would care so much about a devil like him.

He groans in pain from Miguel's kick and Miguel turned to look at you as you bleed from your nose and cry on the floor. Your owner look up at Miguel then at you "Oh I see what this is all about now. You like her don't you? Fine then, take her away as a compensation. She is a very fine and expensive hybrid." He said with a low chuckle as he gave you a dirty look. "Use her as a cock sleeve or just do anything you like at her, let all of your anger out at her as if she's a punching bag. You won't ever hear a peep out of her mouth, she's well trained for that." Miguel can feel himself boiling in anger but his eyes won't leave your figure, no matter how hard he tried. The idea of a pretty thing like you used and abused by someone like him are just too much for him to even imagine.

Yes, he is indeed a cruel mafia leader. He killed and will kill anyone who got in his way without any remorse or hesitation and punish those who got on his nerves. But seeing how a pure little thing like you getting such a horrible treatment without you deserving any of it, made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. He got too deep into his thought as he pull a gun out from his pocket without realizing and thinking it through then shot your owner right at his face as you watch the scene in front of you in horror.

The bastard died instantly, his body made a loud thud noise when it hit the floor and blood starts to stain the carpet underneath. Your eyes widened as tears streams down your cheek. Miguel then turned and walks towards you slowly but you stood up and ran away as fast as you can towards your master's bedroom and lock yourself while crying. His men look at Miguel, waiting for his next order. "I'll talk to her." He said with a loud sigh.

He starts knocking at the door, "Little one, please open the door. I won't hurt you I promise." You starts to panic "No go away! Leave me alone! You just killed my master!" You shouted back. Deep down you know that you should be glad that Miguel had killed your master but that makes you feel powerless, knowing that Miguel is capable of hurting anyone let alone killing them.

"I have to okay? He got on my nerves and worse, he hurt you." He spoke again from the other side of the door. "You know nothing about me!" Tears starts to fall even faster from your eyes as the image of your master's dead body kept playing in your head. "Just open this door so I don't need to force it open myself." He said, starting to get frustrated by your behavior.

You ignores him and sat down in the corner of the room, hoping that he'll just go away and leave you alone. He kept knocking at the door but you refused to open it for him. "Fine you won't open this door? I'll have to force it open then." He said before he starts banging harder and harder on the door, cracking it with each of his forcefull movements against the door.

You know very well from how massive he looks that he'll break down the door easily if he wants to. You starts glancing around the room to look for something to protect yourself just incase if Miguel is trying to hurt you. You've been in this room a thousand time when your master forced you to sleep with him but you're never allowed to open his closet or drawers even when you're told to clean his room for him.

Opening the nearest drawer, you starts rummaging to find something sharp to protect yourself. To your surprise you can feel your hand brushing against a hard and cold metal. You never knew your master hid a small gun in his bedroom this whole time but now you're glad he did. Just as you get your hand on the gun the door bursts open and you yelped in surprise. You then points the gun at Miguel "Don't come any closer! Or I'll— I'll shoot you." You said hesitantly.

Miguel look at the gun in your hand with a expressionless face then walks towards you. "I— I said go away!" A step closer from Miguel means a step back from you. But he kept walking closer and ignoring the fact that you have a gun in your hands. Your back hit the wall, making it impossible for you to take another step back from him. He grabbed your hands and points the gun directly at his chest to challenge you. "Go on. Shoot me." He said menacingly. A shiver went down your spine as your hands clenches around the gun and hesitation floods your mind. You never hurt anyone before, how on earth are you going to shoot him?

Your eyes look up at him still with tears on display and your bunny ears tensed then pinned flat back behind you head in fear. Hands trembling badly as you pressed the gun deeper into his chest, not knowing what to do. "That's what I thought." He said before quickly ripped the gun from your hand easily then threw it away to the other side of the room.

You tried to run but he grabbed you wrist and threw you on the floor. "Stop making this harder on yourself." He said before crouching down to meet your eyes. "Please don't hurt me..." You begged while sobbing, hoping that he'll pity you. He just look at your face while caressing your cheek with his massive thumb. Making your face seems so much smaller compared to his hand. "To have such a pretty thing in front of me for free. How lucky of me." He continues to caress your face and admiring your beauty with the feeling of wanting to own you all to himself. Having you safe by his side in his mansion and to have you sleep by his side at night.

But his fantasy must be interrupted by his duty as a mafia leader. "Boss, it's Lyla." One of his men interrupted. "Tell her I'll be there in 10 minutes." He said with so much authority in his voice. "What about her?" His other man looked over at your vulnerable state. Your eyes are focused on Miguel, anticipating his next move. He cussed to himself and took out a syringe from his pocket. "W— what's that for?" You asked nervously. "This? Oh I bring these all the time incase if I need to take a pretty thing like you home." Miguel then cupped you face with one of his free hand and move your face to the side so he could inject your neck easier.

Your hand grabbed his hand, the one that's cupping your cheek. "I don't want this. Please just let me go." He ignores your plea and kissed your cheek softly. "Don't worry little thing, this will only hurt a little okay? Just obey and you'll be just fine." You shook your head but he injected you right away with the syringe. "Good girl." Your body starts to feel numb right away as tears continue to stream down your face. You rest your head against his chest for support. "Shhh that's it, just fall asleep for me like a good girl you are." He pulls you into a hug and starts caressing your hair this time. Your vision starts to blur as darkness starts to invade. Soon you're limp against his chest, breathing softly and peacefully.

He smiled and kissed your forehead before carrying you in his arms in a bridal style. "Let's get going, we don't want the cops to be here anytime soon." He said as he rushed towards his car with you in his arms and his men following behind him. He looked down at your unconscious form in his arms, "Sleep tight, little one."

[greensagephase]

MAFIA MIG X OC. I love them.

STOPP IT THE EXPRESSIONS IN THE FIRST PANEL - THE TENSION??????? THE FLUSTER????? OH MY GOD - I WANT HIM TO LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT PLS PLS PLS

AND THE WAY HE WRAPS HIS ARMS AROUND HER AND HOLDS THE BACK OF HER NECK IN 2ND PANEL (I would melt into a puddle), AND LIFTED HER LEG TO HIS WAIST????!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

AND HIS LITTLE "♡" !!!!!!!!! SO CUTE LAURA OMGGGG 😭😭😭 EVERY TIME I GET TO SEE THEM I'M LIKE, "THEM♡" - THEY'RE SO CUTE!!!!

Thank you for sharing your art with me and everyone else, Laura!!! As always, I want to devour your art (respectfully) !!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you're having THE BEST DAY/NIGHT EVER and ily!!!! 🥰❤️

-Alondra❤️

[guilty-pleasures21]

Maybe this will just be my trash one.

I was inspired by this fic by @tarjapearce . I LOVE her writing so much!!! Please go check her out and give her some love!!!

1. Um ... yeah ...

Part 1 - the beginning

Part 2 - the car

Part 3 - the detectives

Part 4 - the contract

Part 5 - the clothes

Warnings: graphic descriptions of sex (male x female).

_______________________________________________

     She studied herself in the mirror, her critical gaze running over the new lingerie she’d bought earlier. Francesco only ever let her leave the house to go shopping. ‘It’s for your own protection, mia cara’, he’d always tell her, the term of endearment sounding like poison on his lips. And then she’d feel bad all over again - because he was right. He’d given her everything and asked for nothing in return. It was the reason she’d married him, after all: because he’d promised to keep her safe. Because he had kept her safe, when no one else would. She walked over to the cupboard to pull out one of his shirts: a neatly pressed white top that grazed her thighs and slipped off her shoulder when she buttoned it up. It had been a while since she’d dress up for him, so rarely was he ever at home. But he’d said he’d be coming home early tonight, so she’d thought to take the opportunity to bring some of that spark back to their relationship. He’d been sweet in the beginning, taking her to dinner, buying her jewellery, promising her that no one would ever hurt her again, not as long as he had anything to say about it. But the thrill of chasing after her - of being much more in love with her than she was with him - must have worn off at some point, because his work days had become longer, his trips to the city more frequent. Now, she was lucky if she got to see him more than a few hours every weekend. She returned to the mirror to adjust the shirt, but then heard a sudden commotion happening outside, cars screeching and doors banging and guns going off before the sickening sounds of fists meeting bodies flew through the house. She dashed over to the intercom by the bedroom door and turned on the camera. An unfamiliar group of men and women stood outside the entrance, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of the guards Francesco had hired to keep watch over the villa. She shuddered, fear squeezing around her insides as she tried to come up with a possible escape route. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and took her passport from the safe, stuffing both of them into one of her crossbody bags. Then she went over to the window and took a moment to survey the area below, making sure she had an unobstructed path to the shed at the other side of the swimming pool. She inhaled deeply, then climbed over the ledge and lowered herself as carefully as she could, hanging from the edge to get her feet as close to the ground as possible before she jumped. Then she let go. 

     She was pretty, he thought to himself, his eyes running over the long, curling lashes, dark, almond-shaped eyes and soft, rosy lips of the woman curled up in his arms. But whatever was she doing jumping out the window of Francesco Lombardi’s bedroom? And in his clothes, no less. She scrambled out of his arms, horrified, and pressed herself against the wall, clutching tightly to the strap of her bag. She curled into herself as he continued to study her, doing her best to minimise his view of her bare legs and shoulders. But she couldn’t hide the gleaming golden band that wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand. Francesco Lombardi had a wife? And such a beautiful one too, no less. 

     He folded his arms across his chest as he looked at her, the expensive material of his back shirt pressing against the rippling muscles of his forearms. She glanced up at his face and her heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was: deep-set copper eyes, sharp cheekbones and jawline, powerful, defined muscles. His full lips twisted into a smirk, noticing the way her eyes roved over him, and she gulped, the sight making her stomach flip over. She lowered her gaze and bit her lip, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. 

     “I don’t have anything,” she told him softly, making her voice vulnerable and helpless. She tugged on the strap of her bag. “This is just my phone. And my passport.” 

     He walked closer to her, intrigued by how ready Francesco Lombardi’s wife was to leave him at the slightest hint of danger. But was that just common sense? Or did she know more than she was letting on? 

     He stopped a few centimetres in front of her, close enough for her to smell the woodsy, spicy scent of him and feel the heat radiating off his imposing form. He stayed there for a bit, letting her squirm for a few seconds, her gaze flickering between him and the ground in anticipation of his next move. Then he held his hand out to her. 

     “What?” she asked.

     “Passport,” he requested.

His voice was deep and thick, but gentle - not like Francesco’s; harsh and demanding, an undercurrent of slyness lacing his every word. And his accent was different too - not the Italian that tinged Francesco’s voice or the hint of British that crept into hers. His was Spanish, if she had to guess, but mostly American. He hadn’t grown up here then, not like Francesco.  “W-Why? What would you want my passport for?”

She was cute, the way she hunched over her bag protectively, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she looked up at him. 

     “So I can find out your name.” He shrugged, his lips widening into a full smile. She frowned and straightened, trying to make herself seem bigger even though she was so very small to him. Especially in that oversized shirt that kept slipping off her tiny form. 

     “Why don’t you just ask me?” she pointed out to him. And, Dios, she had to know how adorable she looked when she made that face; had to know that no one would ever take her seriously if she looked at them like that. He took a step even closer to her, tilting his head down so that their lips were just a breath apart.

“Would you tell me if I asked?” 

     Her lips parted, stunned by their sudden proximity. She felt her mouth begin to water at how soft his lips looked, how lush and inviting. Then she swallowed hard, pulling her gaze away from his. “Only if you’ll tell me yours.” 

     “Miguel,” he revealed, holding his hand out to her. “O’Hara.” She eyed his hand carefully, then slid her gaze up to his again. Miguel. It suited him. But his last name … it sounded Irish. Maybe he was mixed? He didn’t really look it though, with his dark features and tanned skin. She took hold of his hand cautiously, her slender fingers curling around his.

     “X,” she confessed. He raised an eyebrow. 

     “No last name?” 

     “I don’t want you to search me up.” She tried to keep her tone light as she said it, like she meant it as a joke, but he wasn't fully convinced. 

     “Hmm.” He considered her thoughtfully. Then he jerked on her hand, pulling her forward so she fell against his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, and he slid his hands up her back, holding her close to him. “Tell me, X: do you usually shake the hand of strange men who break into your husband’s house?” 

     She curled her fingers against his chest, chastising herself for forgetting to take off her wedding ring. But what did he want with her? And how could she get him to let her go? It was no use trying to push herself away from him - any effort she made would be futile, considering how big and strong he was next to her. So she hunched over instead, trying to make herself seem even smaller. 

     She was so small and soft in his arms, her warm body fitting so perfectly against his as he held her close. He bent over slightly, bringing his mouth closer to her ear so he could murmur in it. “What a shame, princesa.” 

     She pushed against his chest, hoping to catch him off-guard - and conceal the way her body shivered at the feeling of his warm breath tickling her neck. But he loosened his grip on her anyway, letting her go. She took a step away from him, avoiding his gaze. “Just … Can I at least put on some proper clothes before you … torture me or whatever?” 

     He brought his hand to his mouth, trying to hide the smile that took over his face at her request. Not just cute, but funny too; in a sarcastic, witty kind of way. He placed his hands on his hips and bit his lip as he looked at her, waiting until she lifted her gaze back up to his. “If I was going to torture you, cariño, you’d be taking off your clothes. Not putting more on.” 

     How could he say that to her? While looking at her like that? In a way that had her feeling hot enough under the collar that she might have considered removing her clothes anyway? She folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him, trying to look stern. “You … If you’re going to be using lines like that, then I’m definitely going to be putting more clothes on.” 

     He grinned and moved closer to her, stopping just in front of her once again. He lifted his hand to her chin and tipped her face up to his, their mouths so dangerously close once again. His gaze fell to her lips and stayed there. “Then what should I say, cariño, to get you out of those clothes?” 

     Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, then she wrenched her face out of his hand and side-stepped him. “Can you just … tell me why you’re here?!” 

     There it was, that adorable frown once again. “I’m here because your husband has some information I need.” 

     She furrowed her brow as she considered his words. If he took Francesco down, she’d go down too. Unless she found a way to escape - to run away to some other countryside where no one would find her. But how would she even be able to afford it? Never mind the meagre savings she’d managed to transfer to her mother’s account before the lawsuit, everything she had belonged to him. She had to interfere - had to throw him off Francesco’s scent. At least until she managed to convince her husband to share with her all the passcodes for his numerous off-shore accounts. She gripped onto her bag strap again, hesitating. 

     “I … can help you,” she suggested, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. “Maybe?” 

     She probably had some plan in mind to try to stop him. Then again, she had tried to escape from the house immediately. With her passport, no less. Maybe she did know something useful about Francesco Lombardi’s business dealings. And besides - his eyes trailed over her small figure again - there was no way she could pose any sort of threat to him. Maybe he’d try playing along. He waved a hand at the house, signalling for her to lead the way. She obliged, turning to slide open the balcony door. As soon as they’d stepped in, however, the front door slammed open and Francesco himself burst in. His gaze bounced between the two of them, his brows drawing together in an angry frown. Then he stalked over to them. 

     “You let her go! Now!” he commanded Miguel, grabbing X’s elbow to pull her to his side. He turned to face her, his light brown eyes widening with concern as he looked at her. “Take the car, mia cara. Go to your mother. I already told Antonio to transfer money to your account. I’ll meet you there.” He pressed the car key into her hand, pushing her towards the door. But she hesitated, glancing back at Miguel thoughtfully. He folded his arms across his chest, waiting to see what she’d do. 

     “What are you waiting for?!” Francesco yelled at her, his normally immaculately styled sandy hair falling into his eyes as he yelled at her. “Go!” 

     X stumbled as he shoved her again, making her way over to the door.

     “Cariño,” Miguel called out to her lazily, stopping her in her tracks. “What happened to you helping me?” Francesco moved to block X from Miguel’s view. 

     “You leave her alone,” he warned Miguel. “She has no business in any of this!” 

     Miguel leaned to the side slightly, easily chancing a glimpse at X over Francesco’s smaller form. “That’s not what it seemed like to me.” 

     Francesco turned to glance at X, trying not to let his confusion show at Miguel’s revelation. “What are you still doing here?! I told you to run!” 

     X nodded and continued walking to the door. But then she was stopped by two of Miguel’s … bodyguards? A short woman with smooth brown skin and tightly curled hair and a taller, fair-haired man with a long face and bulging muscles. 

     “Ven aquí, cariño (Come here, sweetheart),” Miguel instructed her, that languid tone still drenching his voice. X gulped and returned to him, knowing that her best bet was to just try and play along until he got bored with her. 

     So, she understood Spanish. He’d have to make note of that for later. He tugged on her shirt when she’d gotten close enough to him, pulling her even closer. She gasped as she fell into his chest again. 

     “¿Qué pasa, hermosa? (What's going on, beautiful?)” he asked her, injecting a tone of hurt into his voice. “I thought you said you were going to help me?” 

     Francesco leaped forward, meaning to pull his wife away from the monster, but Miguel pulled out his gun and aimed it at Francesco, stopping him in his tracks. X curled into herself as she tried to avoid meeting Francesco’s gaze, ashamed now by how she’d tried to sell him out so quickly. “I-I … I don’t …” 

     Miguel wrapped his free arm around her waist and nuzzled her hair with his nose, inhaling the sweet and fruity scent of her shampoo. 

     “¿Qué pasa, bonita?” He lowered his mouth to the base of her ear and grinned when he felt the shiver run down her spine. “Tell me where he keeps his bank statements, mi angelita. The ones you’re not supposed to know about?” 

     He brushed his nose against her neck and she let out a choked gasp at the feeling. “M-Mi-Miguel …” 

     Ay, coño, the way she whimpered his name? It drove him mad. He pressed his lips to the crook of her neck and let out a soft moan, squeezing her curves appreciatively. “Mmm. You have such a lovely wife, Francesco. How could you even think of cheating on her?” 

     She dug her fingers into his shoulders, horrified by the revelation. “W-What?”

     She turned to Francesco, looking to him for reassurance. But he looked away, avoiding her gaze guiltily. 

     “Did you … cheat on me?” she asked him, knowing the answer deep down anyway. It would explain the long nights, the trips to the city, the months he’d gone without touching her. He refused to answer. 

     “Francesco!” she pressed, the rage beginning to bubble up within her now.

     “It was just … It was just one time, mia cara!” he pleaded with her. “I was tired and … she took advantage of me!”

     “Oh.” Miguel schooled his features into a fake expression of confusion. “One of them actually managed to take advantage of you? What kind of lawyer are you, Señor Lombardi?”

     “‘One of them’?!” X repeated, horrified - the exact reaction Miguel had been hoping to draw out of her. Francesco glared at him, but whether it was because of his declaration or because of the insult, Miguel didn’t care. 

     “Tu sporco canaglia! (You dirty scoundrel!)” he shouted. X tightened her grip on Miguel unconsciously, her lips twisting into a frown as she looked back at Francesco. 

     “You … You filthy piece of shit!”

He hadn’t expected that. Miguel grinned, amused by the curse falling from her sweet lips, and wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist, supporting her as she seethed at her pathetic excuse of a husband. Eventually, she gritted her teeth and turned to Miguel, revenge the only thought on her mind. “His safe is in the kitchen. You can check there.” 

     “Gracias, cariño.” Miguel pressed a delighted kiss to her forehead. He might keep her around, he decided. Pretty, smart, and driven by anger, turning it into something productive. She couldn’t have been better than if he’d conjured her up himself. He gestured for Ben and Jess to bring Francesco into the kitchen, following after them with X. She went over to the oven and pulled it open.

     “No! X! Don’t you dare! You f*cking b*tch!” Francesco screamed at her, struggling against Ben and Jess. Miguel scowled at the insult and stepped forward, ready to smack the insolent b*stard across the face. But X yelled back at him. 

     “Shut the hell up, Francesco!” She pulled out the back of the oven and handed it to Miguel, then disappeared back inside to key in the passcode to the safe. It wasn’t long before she’d gathered up the binders inside and given them to Miguel. He opened one up and sifted through the papers within, then grinned when he saw that they contained what he needed.

     “Bien hecho, mi angelita (Good job, my little angel),” he praised her before setting the binders atop the kitchen island. He took hold of her shirt again and tugged her back to him. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, then cupped her cheek in his hand, his heart speeding up as he gave her a smirk. “Should I give you your reward now?” 

     “I didn’t do it for a reward,” she told him, her voice coming out much softer than she’d meant it to. She could tell by his tone exactly how he planned to reward her. But in front of other people?! In front of her husband?! Sure, he was a cheater, but she wouldn’t be the same. Although … it wasn’t like they’d ever repair their relationship; cheating was a dealbreaker for her, so he was as good as dead in her book. 

     Miguel grinned as he watched the emotional conflict play itself out across her face. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, leaning down to press his lips to the crook of her neck. 

     “¿Qué estás pensando, mi angelita? (What are you thinking, my little angel?)" He slid his hands higher up her back, pulling her tighter against him, and brushed his lips along her neck. Then he began pressing soft kisses along her skin, taking his time to relish the feeling of her against him. 

     “I-I … I …” she trailed off, her words disrupted by the shiver than ran down her spine at the feeling of his lips on her. He was so gentle, so soft, and he smelled so, so nice. Like nutmeg and wood, warm and spicy, clouding all her senses entirely. 

     “You … You f*cking leave her alone, you b*stard!” Francesco yelled, his voice cracking with his fury. Miguel groaned loudly against X’s neck, maintaining eye contact with her husband as he did so. 

     “¿Qué dices, querida? (What do you say, darling?)” he asked her, voice low and husky. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

     “M-Miguel …” ¡Ay, coño, that p*nche whimper again! He slid his hands down to squeeze her ass, causing her to squeak and tense against him. Maldita sea, she was cute. He wondered what other sounds he could get her to make, if the layers of clothing between them weren’t stopping him. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, sliding them up her bare skin. Then he trailed his fingers down to her underwear, tracing the thin fabric and giving a soft chuckle at the feeling of the delicate lace draped across her curves.

     “Was this a surprise for him, mi angelita?” Miguel asked her teasingly, face still buried in the crook of her shoulder. “Do you think he deserves it, cariño?” He curled his fingers around one of the thin ribbons, his mind running wild as he tried to put together a mental image of what she might have been wearing underneath the shirt. 

     “N-No!” She glared at Francesco, still yelling and struggling against his captors, then her head fell back with pleasure as Miguel dipped his hand just into her underwear, his fingers tracing lazy circles along her skin. “I-I … D-Divorce …” She gasped and wrapped herself around Miguel, sliding her fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, clutching at the strands tightly. He groaned into her neck, his fingers moving dangerously low along her skin. 

     “Mmm, angelita.” He looked up at Ben and Jess and nodded his head at Francesco. “Leave him. I want him to watch.” He turned his gaze to Francesco as he lowered his mouth back to X’s shoulder, bare now where he’d slid the collar down. Franscesco continued his futile protests, kicking and fighting against Ben and Jess as they handcuffed him to the very oven that had been his downfall before they left. 

     “M-Miguel.” X clutched at the collar of his shirt, pulling back to look up at him desperately. “I don’t even … k-know you.” He grinned and plunged his fingers all the way into her underwear, dragging them through her rapidly dampening folds. She bit her lip, trying to muffle the moan that fought to slip out.

     “Angelita,” he whined, feeling himself start to harden at how soft and wet she was, how her little body shuddered against him helplessly, getting more and more aroused by his movements. “Should I take you on a date first, princesa? Hmm? Where would you like to go? Dime dónde quieres que te lleve (Tell me where you want me to take you)." He brought his mouth closer to hers, chuckling when she tilted her head to follow his lips with her own. Then he leaned forward and kissed her as he continued playing with her p*ssy, his fingers stroking and teasing her while his tongue swept across her mouth. She stumbled at the overwhelming feeling of him all around her and he pulled her hips against his, holding her upright as he kissed her. 

     “Angelita,” he moaned again, pulling his lips away from hers to move them back to her neck. He groaned at how wet she was, at how sweet she tasted on his tongue, and circled her entrance with his fingers. Her legs twitched at the sensation and another whimper fell from her lips. “Me estas matando, cariño (You're killing me, sweetheart)."

     God, he was good, torturing her and teasing her with his large, calloused fingers. She gasped, her entire body tightening as he slid his finger into her, and he laughed. 

     “Relájate, mi angelita (Relax, my little angel),” he soothed her, tickling her walls gently. “I’m not going to be able to go any deeper if you don’t relax.” 

     “F*ck you, you f*cking b*stard!” Francesco yelled at him, the oven banging and rattling as he pulled at his handcuff. X relaxed her body, so lost in her own pleasure that she didn’t even hear the horrified shrieks of her husband - soon-to-be ex-husband, if either she or Miguel had anything to say about it. Of course he’d never let her go back to that monster - not now that he knew what it felt like, having her in his arms. He pushed his finger deeper inside of her, then added another, forcing a gasp from her lips. 

     “¡Ay, p*ta madre, mi angelita!” Miguel groaned, bringing his mouth to her ear. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before.”

She was just so tight, so sensitive and so desperate for him: it was like she’d never been touched before. X gripped his shoulders tightly as her body began to contract at the feeling of his fingers prodding and poking at her. Miguel chuckled at her gasps and moans, then looked back up at Francesco, his features pulled tight in horror as he watched the sight unfolding before him. 

     “Or is your husband just too small for you?” Miguel grinned wickedly at Francesco and curled his fingers inside of X, prompting a loud moan to fall from her lips. “Discúlpeme, mi angelita (Excuse me, my little angel). Ex-husband."

     “I’ll kill you! I’ll f*cking kill you, you f*cking b*stard!” Francesco threatened him, dishevelled like he’d never been before. Miguel snorted at the threat and returned his attention to X. 

     “Then I’d better take advantage of this moment, sí, mi preciosa?” Miguel teased, removing his fingers to trail them across X’s clit. “What do you say, mi angelita? Do you want me to show you what a real man feels like? Between those legs?” He ignored Francesco’s curses as he looked at X, waiting for her response. 

     She couldn’t - she shouldn’t. She didn’t even know him, this stranger who had broken into her home and tied up her husband after stealing his bank statements! She looked up at Miguel, eyes wide, lips quivering as she tried to tell all of this to him. “M-Miguel …” 

     P*ta madre, she was cute. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking off the glistening liquid she’d left there. He moaned at the taste, then flashed a smirk at Francesco before reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. “Sabes muy deliciosa, cariño (You taste so delicious, sweetheart)."

     She whimpered at the declaration, tangling her fingers in the collar of his shirt as she felt another stream of arousal leak out of her. Miguel grinned and lifted her up easily, setting her down on the kitchen island and spreading her legs apart to accommodate himself between them. He held her thighs down and looked her in the eyes, his expression serious. “I’m not going to force you, mi angelita. Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

     A gang leader? With morals? She would have laughed at the thought if she hadn’t been so painfully aroused then. She glanced over at Francesco, knowing she should say no, knowing she should tell him to stop, then leave and never look back. But she said nothing, just turned back to Miguel with an embarrassed look on her face. He grinned. 

     “Let’s see this underwear you got, hmm, cariño?” he suggested, starting to unbutton her shirt. “We wouldn’t want it to go to waste, would we now?” He slid her shirt off and tossed it aside, sucking in a breath when he saw her exposed curves beneath the scanty pink lace. F*ck, she looked delicious. So f*cking delicious, all his for the taking. He ran his hands up and down her sides, completely exposed save for the streams of ribbons holding the piece of fabric that clung to her front against her body. She was so, so beautiful, he was getting hard just thinking about all the ways he’d make her squirm and writhe beneath him, her soft curves pressing up against his hard muscles. 

     “Cariño,” he growled, his lips curling into a snarl as his eyes roved over her hungrily. She glanced over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of Francesco’s reaction - he’d used to look at her in the same way, back at the start. But then he’d found his other toys and hadn’t needed her anymore. He clenched his jaw, his normally handsome features scrunched up in anger and frustration, his eyes boring holes into Miguel’s back. And then Miguel slid his hands up her front, landing on her breasts where he pinched and stroked her already stiff nipples, pulling her attention back to him. 

     “So … So f*cking beautiful, cariño,” he told her, licking a stripe up her neck to her ear. Her head fell to the side in response and he let out another growl before cupping her face in his hands, straightening her so he could begin kissing her. He groaned into her mouth as he brushed his tongue against hers, the sound sending vibrations running down her chest, then he glided his hands back down to her thighs. 

     “Can I … Can I …” he mumbled, his lips moving against hers as he tried to get the question out. He pulled back, his thumbs toying with the ribbons around her waist, and fixed his gaze on her chest. “So f*cking beautiful, cariño.”

He raised his hands to undo the ribbons around her back, taking his time to expose her full, luscious breasts to him. He licked his lips as she whimpered nervously, then leaned forward to press his lips to her nipples, holding her firmly in place as he sucked and licked on her gently. 

     Holy shit! He was so gentle, so … appreciative, like he was in such awe of her body, had such a desire to just worship her. He dragged his tongue around her nipple, then closed his lips around it, pulling her breast into his mouth and groaning as he sucked on it thirstily. She gripped onto the table as she let out a choked gasp, her p*ssy throbbing desperately against his stomach. Francesco stilled behind them, his lips curling with horror as he found himself unable to pull his gaze away from the sight. Miguel released her with a wet pop, then licked his way up her collarbone, his teeth grazing her throat as he made his way back up to her mouth. He kissed her again, harder this time, more aggressive, then began moving his hips against hers, driving the bulk of him into her. 

     “M-Miguel,” she gasped, her body begging for more - for him. “P-Please?” 

     “Lo sé, mi cariño, lo sé (I know, my sweetheart, I know),” he reassured her, his lips and tongue brushing along her neck and throat. “I just … Just let me taste you, querida. Just … Déjame probarte, mi querida, solo una vez. Solo … (Let me taste you, my darling, just once. Just ...)"

He stood back and undid the rest of her ties, his wavy hair cascading into his eyes at the frenzy of his movements. And then she was fully exposed, completely bare before him, her delicious curves entirely on display for him. 

     “Mmm, f*ck,” he murmured, his pupils dilating as he squeezed her breasts together, bouncing them in between his hands. She let out a desperate whine and he lowered his hands to her thighs, pulling her legs apart and kneeling down on the ground. 

     “Don’t,” Francesco begged softly, his tone defeated. “Please.” But Miguel ignored him, instead pulling X closer, so that he could drag his tongue up her centre. A loud yelp escaped her throat and her body shuddered at the feeling, her hips bucking against his mouth as she silently begged him for more. He closed his mouth around her so that his pleased moans sank into her skin and vibrated along her nerves, adding onto her pleasure. Then he dribbled his tongue up and down her folds, drinking up the c*m that continued to leak out of her as he kept playing with her. F*ck, she tasted delicious. 

     “Miguel!” she pleaded with him, her legs twitching as he circled her entrance teasingly. “Miguel, please! Please?”

He dipped his tongue into her, swirling it around her insides, brushing up against her walls and stroking her vigorously. She whined and moaned loudly, drowning out any protests Francesco might have had, and Miguel increased the intensity of his movements, spurred on by the sounds of her pleasure. Finally, with one last curl of his tongue, she came, her body shaking and shuddering as she rode out her orgasm on his mouth. He kept his tongue shoved up inside of her when she’d finished, making sure to drink up every last drop of her sweet, sweet c*m, and she felt her brain turn numb at the feeling. How could she sit there, completely exposed, another man’s tongue buried so deeply inside of her while her husband watched? She shifted uncomfortably, ashamed by how thrilled she was by the thought, and Miguel finally slid his tongue out of her, pushing himself up to look at her. She glanced up at him nervously, a squeak escaping her throat at the mix of saliva and c*m dripping from his jaw, and lowered her gaze again. 

     “P*ta madre,” he breathed, shaking his head in awe. “Sabes muy p*nche deliciosa, mi angelita (F*ck. You taste so f*cking good, my little angel)."

He raised one hand to her face, cupping her chin and tilting her head up to his so he could start kissing her again. He needed … He needed more. He needed to feel her clenching around his d*ck the same way he’d felt her clenching around his tongue, her tight little p*ssy begging him for release. He began undoing the buttons of his shirt, his lips never leaving hers as he pulled off his clothes and tossed them to the ground, climbing on top of her when he was fully naked. 

     “Querida,” he whined, holding her down against the cold marble of the kitchen island as he tugged on the skin of her neck with his teeth. “Querida, tu … Te necesito, mi angelita. Te necesito … ahora (Darling, you ... I need you, my little angel. I need you ... now)."

     “Mi-Miguel,” she breathed, losing control of her thoughts once again. Holy shit, he felt good, his broad shoulders and chest, his smooth skin and hard muscles, pressing into her and shielding her from the rest of the world. She tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping onto the silky strands as she wriggled beneath him, rubbing herself up against him for relief. God, his c*ck! It felt huge! So hard and so warm and so painfully outside of her, not filling her up like she wanted him to. “Migue-el!” 

     “Mmm, querida,” he chuckled, delighting in how badly she wanted him as well. He moaned against her neck, then sat up, sliding her around so she could lie more comfortably lengthwise on the counter. He took hold of himself then, tracing his tip along her soaking folds, lubricating himself in preparation of entering her. She raised her hips, urgently seeking him, but he pressed her down gently, holding her flat against the island. “Calmate, angelita (Calm down, little angel). I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything you want, mi angelita preciosa.” 

     He grunted as he began easing himself inside of her, stretching her out and filling her up so very nicely. She sighed at the feeling, arching her back and wriggling her hips to better accommodate him, barely hearing the groan he let out at the satisfied look on her face. Then she was sitting up, her head falling onto his shoulder as he held her against him, keeping her upright on his lap. He raised her off of him slightly, then slammed her back down on top of him, thrusting his hips into her at the same. F*ck, she felt … so f*cking good. He continued the movement, pumping himself in and out of her, relishing the feeling of her tight and warm walls squeezing and squelching around him. 

     “Querida,” he mumbled in her ear, sliding his hands up her back to press her soft curves tightly against his hard body. She wrapped her arms around him, her eyes fluttering shut as her brain went numb, completely consumed by the sheer pleasure of having him so deeply inside of her. She gasped as she came again, writhing helplessly in his arms as he continued to drive himself into her. He bit down on her shoulder and squeezed her ass as she contracted around him, her soft little p*ssy tightening around his d*ck even lovelier than it had around his tongue. And then he came as well, his muscles finally relaxing as he relieved himself inside of her. She leaned over and bit his ear, then lowered her lips to his neck and sucked on his skin, licking up the salty sweat there as his warm seed seeped into her. 

     “Mmm, Miguel,” she murmured against him, scrunching his hair in her fingers as he continued to hold onto her. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers stroking her spine as she panted against him as well. Dios, she was cute. He definitely wouldn’t be able to let her go now that he’d had a taste of her. 

     “Boss?” Jess called out to him from somewhere outside. “Cops are on their way. We’d better get going.” Miguel pressed a final kiss to X’s cheek, then lifted her off his lap, setting her down on the table. 

     “That’s right,” Francesco told him, suddenly regaining some of his confidence. “You’d better get going you filthy b*stard.” Miguel rolled his eyes and got off the table, holding a hand out to X to help her down. She hopped off of it, stumbling slightly as her legs shook, still weak from having him inside of her. But he held her steady until she regained her footing, then bent over to pick his clothes up. X reached for her underwear, then grabbed Francesco’s shirt as well, starting to put it back on. But Miguel held a hand in front of her, stopping her. 

     “I don’t want you wearing that, cariño,” he told her, taking the shirt from her and replacing it with his own. “Here. Put this on instead.” She bit her lip, worrying at it as she contemplated his underlying meaning. Her gaze flickered over to Francesco, his brows set into a harsh frown as he glared at her. Then Miguel moved to stand in front of her, blocking her husband from her view. He nodded at his shirt, gesturing for her to put it on, and she did so, setting the underwear aside. He picked it up and shoved it into his pants pocket, flashing her a wicked grin that hinted at whatever he had planned in mind for later. So he wanted there to be a later. Was he really intending on taking her with him then? But how long would he keep her for? What would he have her do? Besides … the obvious, of course. She gulped as her stomach flipped at the thought, lowering her head to avoid meeting his gaze. He slipped his jacket on and placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her out the door and far away from the life she knew she’d never come back to.

[tarjapearce]

HII OMGG UR MAFIA MIGUEL AU WAS SO GORGEOUS AND JUST SO GOOD SJJDNRJSKSJSJDD I CANT EVEN FIND THE WORDS TO DESCRIBE IT OML

I HAVE TO KNOW IF UR PLANNING TO MAKE ANOTHER PART OMGGG😻❤️

Im still debating if to make it a mini series or a series (Im fucking extra sometimes 🙃 and like things through) but then I remember that I have a new one coming up, so jsksj Lemme organize myself.

And thank you for your feedback 🥹❤️. Means alot you guys are enjoying that Mafia AU 🤭🤭

[vosveti]

Miguel O’Hara being a soccer dad (part 1)

[theroseceleste]

Mafia Miguel - Part 1

This is a WIP story. I do have an idea where it'll go, but I would love suggestions or ideas on what you think might happen next. Perhaps it could be a community lead story?

Contains : Female reader, very brief mention of sex, threat of violence, mention of death.

Word count - 2647

Hope you enjoy chapter 1!

For the other parts, click below.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

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Brilliant sunshine beats down over the grand city of Nueva York. The month is June and the weather is perfect. The beautiful tall white structures of this futuristic skyline reflect the solar rays, like large white beacons beaming up from the ground.

Nestled amongst a collection of high-rise buildings, is a large penthouse. A home to a powerful man, not in politics, but in the criminal world.

It is the morning and the man in question sits quietly on the patio of his penthouse. The gentle sounds of the swimming pool lapping against the edges fills the air as a cool breeze ruffles his dark brown hair. Despite it being early, he’s already dressed in a long sleeve shirt rolled up to his elbows, waistcoat and suit trousers. He reads the news on a tablet under the shade of a parasol, his expression a wicked grin.

“The mega corporation Alchemax has released a statement reporting several employees have disappeared over the last few weeks.

They claim it began with scientists not coming in for work and now employees further up the hierarchy are also reported to be missing.

We spoke to Mrs Garcia, the wife of a missing employee from Alchemax…”

His peace and quiet is interrupted by a young girl's voice.

“Papa!” calls the girl. “Good morning papa.” The sound of the patio door sliding shut indicates she is coming out to see him.

He turns to greet her and places the tablet on the glass table.

“Buenos dias, mija,”(Good morning darling) he says softly to his daughter as his strong arms envelopes her in a cuddle.

She pulls away from her father’s embrace and puts on her puppy-dog expression with her big brown eyes, looking directly into his.

“Papa, can you come with me to school this morning? she asks sweetly.

Her father sighs. He has a busy day ahead of him.

“Mija-” he begins to protest.

“It’s you know what day and I want to spend some time with you,” she interjects, maintaining that sweet pleading face.

The man frowns. Today marks the fifth anniversary of his wife’s death. Five years his daughter, Gabriella, has been without a mother.

His daughter is the apple of his eye and when she pulls a face like that, he can’t refuse her - especially on a day like today. Gabriella will be ten years old in a few months but she seems so grown up already. He’s thankful she doesn’t abuse her power over him too much as he doesn’t want to spoil her more than he usually does.

“Alright mija, okay. Go get your bag and we’ll stop by the cafe and grab some muffins before school. Sound good?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Her face lights up with excitement, flashing a brilliant, white toothy smile.

“Si, papi!” she replies excitedly and runs back inside to go get her things.

***

The father and daughter duo sit together in a small black limo, at the back of a short line of the same coloured cars - all of which belong to him. They drive in convoy to the school.

He sits quietly, staring out of the window after eating the sweet blueberry muffin he had bought from the cafe he’s a regular at. Gabriella is taking her time eating hers, savouring every delicious mouthful.

“Papa…” she breaks the silence as the limo gently turns a corner.

“Si, mija?” he responds, preparing himself for another request or strange question. He can tell by the sound of her voice she is about to ask something unusual.

Gabriella swallows another mouthful of her muffin as a crumb or two tumbles down her top.

“Do you think you’ll marry again?”

Yep, there it is… He turns his head to look at his daughter.

“I’m too busy to look for a new wife,” he begins. “Besides, I want to spend my rare free time with you,” he continues as he gently nudges his fist against her shoulder making her giggle.

“I know papa, but I want you to be happy,” she finally replies before taking her final mouthful of her delicious treat.

Her father tilts his head at her response, his eyebrow raised.

“I am happy.”

Gabriella shakes her head gently as if she doesn’t believe him.

“No, you’re not papa…”

His daughter is right, but he would never admit that to her. He didn’t want her to worry, but it seems she already is. The man’s heart melts at her concern for his happiness. The last five years had been a blur. Losing his wife was a heavy loss for both he and Gabriella. After at least a year of mourning and processing her sudden, untimely death, he started to put his plan for revenge in motion.

Since his wife’s passing he did get involved with other women when he felt ready; but they were only for sexual relief and never considered them as a potential partner. He lost interest in them when they tried to use him for his money.

The man’s gaze rests on his daughter. His hand idly plays with her ponytail, wrapping the ends of her soft dark brown hair around his fingers.

“I’ll consider it mija,” he pauses as he ponders. “I need to find someone first, someone worthwhile - pretty hard in my line of work.”

The convoy of black cars pull up outside Gabriella’s school. The man gently grabs his daughter’s hand before she leaves the car, causing her to look back at him.

“Have a good day at school mija,” he says as he leans forwards and kisses her forehead. “You got your necklace?”

Gabriella pats her shirt, something lay underneath it against her chest and she nods with a smile.

He returns her smile and pats her shoulder.

“Good girl, you know what to do… I just hope it’s never necessary,” he replies as he takes her bag and hands it to her.

Through the tinted windows, he watches his daughter be escorted into the school building. Her question repeats in his mind and a frown grows across his lips. She must be lonely and in need of a mother figure back in her life. Has he been too engrossed in his plan for revenge? Perhaps he’s lost sight of the more important things in life? But he had made so much progress, he couldn’t just drop it and leave things be now. Leaning back in his car seat, he sighs and closes his eyes.

The window separating himself and the chauffeur opens up, disturbing his deep thought.

“Where to, Mr. O’Hara?” the driver asks, looking over his shoulder into the back of the limo.

The look of a doting father leaves his face, and out comes the mask of the stern and dangerous mafia boss. A dark, dangerous expression on his face.

“The Web,” he replies as he watches his daughter’s escort return to the convoy of cars.

He is shut off from the chauffeur once more and the collection of cars start to roll forward. The Web is his underground base of operations, a place where people who cross him are locked away, a place where those missing Alchemax employees await their fate. He pulls out his phone and begins to type a message to a contact named Lyla.

“Get them ready,” his thumbs type out on the screen.

***

You are walking down the sidewalk, several school buses pass you during the rush hour traffic. Carrying a coffee in a large cup you’re heading back to your car. A message from your employer you had received on your phone, told you to hang around outside the school and look for a convoy of black cars, without any explanation. After the bright yellow school buses clear, a squad of cars matching that description drives past your parked vehicle. The limo catches your eye most of all, however the tinted windows didn’t allow you to see who is inside.

Wrenching your door open, you slide in and place your coffee cup in the holder between the front seats. Your seatbelt clicks as it fastens after you hastily pull it across you. Starting the car, you pull out of your parking space and follow the convoy several vehicles behind to keep a healthy distance.

Pulling up somewhere quiet in the city, you watch the black cars snake their way around another corner, slowing to a stop. You don’t want to be seen so you hang back, in the shadows between the high rise buildings. Getting out of your car, you take in your surroundings as you creep closer to the convoy you were following. It seems to be a regular business area of the city. Many multistory buildings are full of people working away. Cafes lined the street, serving people their morning coffee before starting their regular nine to five jobs.

Before ducking behind a wall, you spot a man stepping out of the limo. His long jacket drapes over his shoulders as he strides into an alley, followed by men from the other cars in the convoy.

Sliding your phone out of your pocket, you begin snapping away, taking pictures of the man leading the small group of sharply dressed people who came out of the convoy of cars. Beeps from a number pad rang out as this stern looking man punched in a code. A door clicks open and the group disappears inside.

***

Stepping into the building from the alley, Mr. O’Hara is met with a lift with doors on opposite sides. The elevator sinks down into the ground once everyone is in and the door is closed. A ding pierces the silence inside the lift and the sliding doors draw open.

A well dressed, strawberry blond woman stands at the other side of the doors, waiting to greet her boss. She carries a tablet displaying his schedule for the day. As Mr. O’Hara emerges from the lift, she walks alongside him, keeping up with his large strides.

“Morning Miguel,” she greets him with a light and airy voice.

“Morning Lyla,” he starts, “are they ready to talk?” His voice is a low growl and his expression full of determination.

Lyla chortles as she looks at her tablet. Her footsteps are faster than his as she is over a foot shorter than him.

“They may need a little convincing,” she replies with a grin.

As Miguel continues to walk along a dark corridor, he holds his hand out as he passes another member of his gang. Tall, incredibly slim, dressed in a suit with big, black dreadlocked hair, the man silently hands Miguel a baseball bat and walks after him.

“One of them will squeal, I’m sure,” Mr. O’Hara says as he casually taps the bulbous end of the bat against his palm, an evil smirk spreads across his face.

Down a few flights of stairs, deeper underground, Miguel approaches a heavy door and punches another code into a number pad. The sound of a heavy bolt sliding away from the door means he can open it.

“Hobie, join me inside, Lyla, reschedule my morning appointments, I might be a while,” he ordered.

Four men sat on wooden chairs with their hands tied behind their backs in a wide empty room. There is one large cabinet to the right but it is locked shut, keeping its several nasty implements used to help encourage people to start talking.

All four captives look up at the two new people entering the room, with tired eyes and fed up expressions. Some have been there longer than others.

“Which one of you miserable lot is Mr. Garcia?” The taller of the two sharply dressed men asked.

Miguel watches carefully to see which one responds to his name. He sees a scientist wearing a grubby lab coat gulp hard as he is preparing to speak. Approaching the shaking man, he points the end of the baseball bat right into the captive man’s face.

“You?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Mr. Garcia nods nervously and winces at how close the bat is to his visage.

Lowering the potential lethal weapon he points the end to the floor and rests his weight on the handle, leaning over it and peering into the scientist’s eyes.

“Please excuse me for not visiting sooner, I’ve been a busy man gathering information,” Miguel begins. “It appears that I’ve hit a snag on something and I’m in need of assistance, Mr. Garcia.”

The lab technician blinks in anticipation, his breath faltering at the intense stare burning into his retinas.

“Do you think you’re going to cooperate today?” the mafia boss asks with a smug smirk growing across his face.

“I- I’ll do the best I can, sir.” Mr. Garcia stutters in fear.

Remaining in position, leaning his weight on the handle of the baseball bat, he begins his questions.

“I need a name. The name of the man who contracted your team to do some work five years ago. Ring any bells, Mr. Garcia?” the towering man asks with a raised eyebrow.

A tired, shaky sigh left the captive’s lips. He dips his head low before replying. 

“I signed a contract to not speak a word of what we worked on or divulge any information about who hired us - I’m sorry…”

Miguel growls impatiently and begins to slowly circle the lab technician tied to his chair.

“My darling wife worked in your team, remember her?” he asks, resting the baseball bat on his shoulder. Fierce eyes watching intently at the quivering scientist. “She too signed that contract and took the secret of the man responsible to her grave. Do you want the same fate, Mr Garcia?”

“Sir, my job and life will be in danger if I tell y- ah!” The scientist yelps when Miguel loses his patience and strikes the back left wooden chair leg with the baseball bat, knocking it clean off; collapsing the chair backwards. Mr. Garcia fell painfully in a heap, his tied arms stuck underneath him and the back of his chair.

“You’re in danger now!” the mafia boss yells angrily as he completes his slow circle, watching a groaning Mr. Garcia like a hawk.

“Next thing I hit will be your leg, making sure to break your femur. Perhaps you should reconsider where your loyalties lie, nerd.” He crouches down next to a shaking and whimpering mess.

“I know you have a wife, and she’s very worried about you-” Miguel is interrupted by the scientist’s sudden outburst.

“Please! Don’t- don’t touch her!” Mr. Garcia pleads desperately, pulling at his restraints.

A wicked grin spreads across the mafia boss’s face and chuckles darkly.

“Then I suggest you start talking…” he growls, standing up and playfully tapping the bat against his palm again.

“Kingpin! His name is Kingpin!” the lab technician splutters urgently.

The smirk on Miguel’s lips grows wider and teasingly rests the baseball bat on Mr. Garcia’s top half of his leg.

“What about his actual name?”

A fresh, desperate whimper erupts from the captive man’s lips.

“I don’t know! I swear! I promise I would tell you if I knew!”

With a nod, Miguel pulls the bat away. He believes Mr. Garcia. If he was Kingpin doing something shady, he’d use an alias too.

“Hobie, take this man, do what we usually do with the lucky ones, and then make sure he and his wife are under my protection,” the mafia boss orders, tapping the bat against his palm once more as he paces the room.

The slim gang member steps forward and hoists the shaking scientist to his feet. With a silent nod to his boss, he escorts a whimpering Mr. Garcia out of the room.

“Now, what part of all three of you shall I send to Kingpin in the mail?”

The solid door closes behind Hobie and Mr. Garcia, dampening the screams coming from inside.

----------

Part 2

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[saint-ajax]

༒︎︎︎︎ OCT. 04 | MIGUEL O’HARA

༒︎︎︎︎ KINKTOBER

TW: 18+ | SOMNOPHILIA | TIE KINK | INAPPROPRIATE USE OF SPIDER WEBBING | JEALOUSY | POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR |POSSESSION SEX | MISOGYNY THEMES | MAFIA THEMES | ALTERNATE UNIVERSE | CHEATING IMPLIED | FORCED MARRIAGE | ORAL SEX | VAGINAL FINGERING | P IN V SEX | NOT PULLING OUT | SEMI-PUBLIC SEX | OUT OF CHARACTER

    Your story goes predictable. A hot headed mafia boss kidnaps a beautiful woman who can't escape him. As time passes you become his sex slave, the apple of his eye, the queen of the empire he built, the woman he is willing to burn the world for. 

    As much as you may try to deny it, you fell for the man who stole your freedom.

    But it just so happens that this particular mafia is an Irish-Latino, spider-bitten, with a vampire dentistry, topping it off with a muscular big build. Also, a caring, sweetest person as much as an aggressive man. That's the Miguel O'Hara you love. The man you know, worshiped, hated, and was forced to marry.

    You hate yourself as much as you hate him for taking your dreams away. You despise how much you love him. Unable to be repulsed by a dangerous, dangerous, man. 

    Yet, not always. You still get mad at him. A lot of times. But that's just your dynamic. You're mad at him so he eats you out, and you're all lovey-dovey again. Although, not this time around.

   You planned to surprise him at work today, bringing his favorite meal that you took the time to cook for, in spite of being a clueless damsel in the kitchen. 

   Only for you to find a woman with her tight skimpy skirt lifted up to her hips, exposing more than enough skin of her thighs to anger you. She was in the move to sit on Miguel's thighs. While he, the man in the sharp black suit comfortably sitting on his office chair, was only letting the woman do as she pleases.

   You've spent enough time in this office alone to memorize where the hidden guns were. A black leathered chair beside you has one on it. Since they didn't hear or feel your presence, you snatched it without hesitation. 

   They didn't even give a damn at the sound of the gun clocking. It was the perfect timing, she was sitting on his lap, leaning in to reach his face. And just as their faces close? You shot the space in between them. The window received the bullet you released, sticking to the first layer, an effective bulletproof window.

   The woman screamed. She covered her ears as she was startled. While Miguel didn't even blink. The moment you stepped inside the building, his spider sense tingled in the presence of his woman.

   “Oh my gosh! What was that?!”

   She looked around until she found you with your hands in air, index flat on the side of the trigger, eyes drained of emotion.

   “Gosh, woman! You could've shot me! Miguel, do something!”

   “Who… are you?” you mutter, eyes squinting at the oblivious woman.

   She was frustrated that Miguel was just watching the scene while she stood properly, fixed her clothes, mad and confused at your presence, identity, and actions.

   “Who are you? ”

   She threw back the question as if you're the one who needs to be known.

   “I’m his wife. And, you? What's your name putita?”

   Miguel couldn't help but smirk at the insult you threw, proud of your Spanish. 

   “What did you just call me?!” she asks in a totally offended tone with her hand on her chest.

   “Little whore.” You clarify. She gasps dramatically before marching towards you.

    “How dare you!” She yells before cocking her hand in position to slap you.

    “You touch her and you're dead.”

   Miguel's threat interrupted her. She looks at him as if she couldn't believe him while you just stare at her with one brow lifted.

   “You’ve spent enough time in my company. You’re fired.”

    “What?! You’re siding with her?!”

    You and Miguel frowned confusedly at her.

   “Did you not hear her? Ella es mi esposa, puta.”

    “You got a lot of nerve,” you state it to her. 

    She looks at you and back at Miguel before frustratingly leaving the room. “Ugh!”

    You walk towards his table, to drop the bag. “What the fuck was that?”

   You confront him. “You’re a cheater now?”

    “No. She's a flirt, so I let you handle her.”

   You nod simply, dropping the gun on his table. “I could've killed her.”

   “But you didn't.”

   “No, I didn't…” you agree. You walk over to his side while he swivels the chair to face you. You reach the spot of the window where your bullet stuck. You pull it to study it around your fingers.

    He reaches for your waist, but you catch his hand, opening his palm to place the bullet. “You have to understand the weight of this, Miguel.” He raised a brow at you, asking what you meant.

    “De qué estás hablando, mi esposa?”

   “I didn't kill her. But I would have.”

   “I do not see the problem.”

   “I'm not as innocent as you first took me.”

    He glares at you for the word you used. You smirk inside your head, knowing the guilt it brought him. “You’ve made me crazier. I’ve adapted to your dangerous life. You have to be careful with your actions. Or else who knows what I could've done to her?”

   “I’d prefer if you killed her.” You glare at him. 

    “That's not very nice.”

    “I'm not very nice.”

   “I won't be very nice to you too if I catch another woman latching on to you. Understood?”

    “Si, mami.”

    You lean into his face, caressing on his cheeks, tracing his strong jaw with your thumb. You let your hands roam down his abdomen to his crotch, after your speech, you made him hard. You smile at him, and act as if about to kiss him, when he opens his mouth to receive your lips, you mutter:

    “Don't get too cocky, I'm still mad at you.”

   He opens his eyes, to see your sharp glare.

𖤐

 

    “Where’s mi princesa?!” He barges in his own mansion, fuming in anger at everyone who crosses his path.

   “S- señor Miguel, señora O’Hara is in the masters bedroom.” Frightened maids bow at him as he marches past them in rage.

  He barges in your room only to find you sleeping soundly in the bed you both share.

    He eyes you down while he loosen his tie. He stands in front of the footboard as he takes off his suit jacket. His white long sleeves could barely seal his brawny chest and ripped muscles.

   He flings off the comforter keeping you warm as it reveals you in your cotton shirt and shorts that covers almost nothing. 

    He crawls down the bed as his big, rough, palm creeps up your legs. Until his hand lands on the band of your shorts, he effortlessly rips it off along with the thong, pieces of fabric landing across the floor. The icy atmosphere makes you squirm, while he forcibly opens your legs wide open. He dips his nose down to your core, inhaling your addictive scent.

    From there, he devours you like a starved man. Licking your insides like he owns you. As if you're his last meal. He holds down your squirming legs to fuck your pussy with his violent tongue. Shamelessly latching on your clit, dragging his tongue slowly and deeply from your gooey walls up to your silky clit. 

    He flicks his tongue rapidly, he hardens it and to shove it inside you and lap your sopping walls drenched in your divine juices.

   He kept slurping you. Munch your pussy repeatedly which makes you whimper. Bringing you to consciousness as he ate you like he's starved. 

    His intensive feasting doesn't falter. He adds his thick fingers, enough to make your tight pussy feel full. As he curls his fingers inside your slit, he pumps them in and out. This causes you to push his face deeper, legs shaking, and trapping his head in between you.

   Your mouth falls open as your back arch, feeling the sting of the few pricks of ecstasy.

    Your legs shake as he helps you climb your high. Chewing on your clit, molesting your hole with his skilled tongue and fingers. As your walls clench around him, you shudder and moan at the climax he delivers you. 

   Pleasure spreading through your veins as he keeps on worshiping your drench cunt.

   Your chest rises and falls as you calm down from the high while he laps you, cleaning your glistening pussy from your creamy sap.

    While he gets up, lips, chin and jaw dripping from your cunt.

   He pulls his zipper down, pulling out his heavy, full of load balls, stiff cock. Before the base of his dick touches your swollen clit, you grab him. You sit up and glare up at him.

    “You do not get to touch me, Miguel.” 

    He glares back at you, eyes narrowing at your behavior. “You don't tell me what to do. I touch what's mine.”

   “This pussy isn't yours, is it?”

    “Yes, it is.”

   “Unless it's attached to you, it's not yours. Get the hell out of my way.”

    He narrows his eyes at you and the act you're pulling.

    “Ahh… my hypocrite queen, cumming first before protesting from being fucked.”

   “You've taught me well.”

   You smirk at him before leaving the bed. As you open the door, just as you step outside, he has you pinned on the walls of the hallway. 

   “Stop being such a fucking tease, Mrs. O’Hara.”

   He growls at you. You roll your eyes as you moan in disgust. “God, I fucking hate that title.” 

   “You're getting on my fucking nerves, woman.”

   He shoots his web to bind your wrists, you gasp audibly. “Get this filthy thing off me!”

   He smirks and scoffs at your words. “You really testing me, huh?” He shoots another web on the ceiling and ties your bound wrists on it. He made you hang like a punching bag.

   “Put me down!” Soon he shoots another web to shut your mouth. Then he rips your thin shirt apart. Now bare naked hanging off the ceiling.

    “Now you look perfect.”

    He pulls down your hips, smacking your plump ass on the back before spreading them apart. He shoves in his long, thick, cock. You moan inaudibly now as he push in your slit. Stretching your delicate walls, reaching your gooey cervix as he pull down your waist. As if you're his own life-size fleshlight.

    While his dick drag a pleasurable sensation in you, it was still an uncomfortable position to be fucked in the air. While his strong, tall, build gives him the access to suck on your tits while pumping his cock with your pussy.

   His paces starts to get rocky. He tightens his grip on your waist as your cunt meets his thrusts. “Fucking delicious.” He groans each time your wet pussy engulfed his beefy cock.

    He smacks your ass, spanking them equally hard. He grips on your red cheeks marked with his palm, grabbing onto them to slam his tight balls deeper and harder into your core.

    You couldn't do anything but take his rough pounding. While you moan inaudibly, crying, whimpering, and shaking as he ram into you.

    He rests his face in-between your bouncing breasts, focusing his mouth on sucking on your hard nipples as he moan from the euphoric warmth your cunt delivers.

    “Your perfect cunt will be fucking full of my cum, esposa.”

    He mutters as he both of your mounds.

    “Fuck this pussy. I own this.”

    There's nothing stronger than the sense of ownership washing over him everytime he sees you, he fucks you, or kiss you. “Mrs. O’Hara’s all mine.”

    He buries his dick deep in your, reaching into your womb to finally shoot his another kind of warm web. While your legs shake, tears falling from the mix of pain, discomfort, and insane orgasm.

    He fills you up of his creamy load before continuing to thrust in and out, savoring the bliss of fucking your tight cunt. Then he traps the proof of sin inside you. Before he pulls out and kneels to watch your pussy drip the mix of your cum and his.

   He smiles at his masterpiece, dipping a finger to see the consistency of your mixed syrup.

   “Buckle up, brat. I'm gonna fuck you dumb. You hear me, mi hermosa putita?”

    You nod helplessly as you hang with your wrists above your head, tears falling down your flustered cheeks.

[darkfoxkirin]

Mafia Boss Miguel O'Hara

[bunnibitez]

Messy Hands - Part Two

Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader AFAB

Summary: Miguel just can’t get you off his mind. As a result, he’s always there when you need him most, whether you like it or not.

Word count: 4.6k+

CW: 18+ so MDNI, NSFW, mentions of blood, acts of violence, SA(NOT MIGUEL), stalking, jealousy, possessive behaviors, toxic relationship, mentions of death, slow burn, no use of Y/N

A/N: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO GET OUT BUT I PROMISE ITS GOOD!!! THANK YOU TO MY BETA READER @jshookthighs I FUCKIN LOVE YOU

Part One here

Time never stops.

It marches on, dragging the corpse of yesterday behind it. Time never ceases and neither does the on going battle behind closed eyes and clenched fists. No matter how many deep breaths are sucked in between gritted teeth, no matter how much he prayed, begged, kicked or screamed, time marched on. Taking it’s toll on the world and his soul as it did. With time came its companion, decay. A devious creature that preyed on the innocent and beautiful, corrupting it with it’s touch. That’s how Miguel began to see it all. It was a matter of time until his brain too rotted away until his skull was nothing more than an empty cavity to host his rage rather than his conscience. Every day he could feel the threads of his sanity being pulled taut, and every day he doubted how much longer he could go without being the cause of a fucking masacre.

Wrath.

Rage.

Justice.

So much “justice” due. That’s how he saw it. So many people had done wrong by him; tore him apart, brick by brick. Hurt the people he loved most just to get to him. Until one fateful night, he was left with nothing but a beating heart pumping weakly in a dirty alley, left to die. His chest still tightens at the memory of her. Stolen innocence snuffed out too soon. And yet the ones to blame were left unharmed, hidden behind the ivory walls of their mansions, never truly getting their hands dirty.

Cowards.

If only he had the chance, he’d slaughter them. Watch the life drain from their pathetic bodies as they’d squirm and writhe in pain. Begging for a bullet. But Miguel would take his time with them though, he was patient and knew better than to grant them a sliver of mercy. It was the only lesson his father ever taught him.

But that all would come in due time. Miguel was patient, capable of biding his time until his prey found themselves tangled in his web and unable to escape. But until then much like time, Miguel marched on; dragging a little corpse behind him.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Weeks had since passed at this point, breezing through late spring and bleeding into early summer. The days after the mysterious brute entered Bellagino’s were tense, leaving Mr. Caparelli flighty and panicked. The stout little man could often be found pacing in the kitchen, muttering to himself with a distraught look painted on his face. You didn’t dare ask why he seemed so frightened since his ‘friend’ came to visit, mostly because you yourself seemed a little terrified of him as well. In lieu of your best efforts and his divine features, the man was cold and seemed pestered by your presence at your last encounter. Despite this though, you seem to find yourself staring at him more and more. Since the meeting with Bellaginos’ owner, Miguel had begun to visit the quaint little restaurant every other week or so.

Miguel couldn’t find the motive behind his actions truly. He raked his brain for an answer, disturbing the cobwebs in his head to try and understand why he had to mindlessly sit here and watch. Sit and watch this run down old restaurant like a dog. Sit and feel his shoulders slump as the soft hum began to tune out the buzzing in his mind. He’d come in and plop down at the same little table in the center of the room and the owner would bring him the same ice water with lemon.

For the first two weeks, he had attempted to convince himself it was purely to ensure that Caparelli wouldn’t run out on him. Sure, getting to watch the pretty little thing behind the register try not to stare was fun, but these were just business trips. What did it matter that he started coming in twice a week? What did it matter that he’d feel a twist of disappointment when he’d walk through the creaky little door and not see you in your usual spot because it was your day off? It was just business.

That is until finally he had no choice but to confront the truth. It came at him, sitting in his lap, oozing through his gut and making his stomach tie in knots. It made him nervous and queasy, forced to hide it all behind a stonewall mask. It felt foreign, his thoughts jumbled as he began to lose focus on it all.

‘There’s no way. It’s just work.. It’s just..’

It was a warm night in July and an unusually busy Friday evening at Bellagino’s, due in part to the ongoing festival at the Brooklyn Bridge Park. Fairy lights twinkled overhead in the outdoor dining area, each seat filled with couples and gaggles of laughing friends. Miguel almost didn’t recognize the place with it so full of life. The building had an unfamiliar glow to it that simply complimented it, turning it into the homely feel of a little Italian cottage. Turning his attention to the windows as he approached, he saw you, floating around tables with a smile on your face. His lips parted slightly as he watched you, glowing like an angel in the warm lights.

In your element, twirling to avoid guests with ease, plating food and drinks without spilling a drop. You moved with grace and poise, completely unbothered and confident. It was a complete parallel to how you acted when Miguel was there.

That’s when he felt it. A tugging at his chest and the tightening of his lungs as he held his breath. He could feel his heart thrumming as he stood there, starstruck. For the first time, it wasn’t just a subtle hum, it was a goddamn symphony. A cacophony of harmonious melodies blended together to form the tune playing behind his eyes as he gawked in awe. He couldn’t think straight, his own thoughts being muffled out and pulled to the back of his mind. Sweaty palms clenched into tight fists as he closed his eyes and tried to shake out the cotton filling his head.

‘Think O’Hara… Breathe dammit…’ he reminded himself.

A large hand brushed back loose curls as he inhaled slowly through his nose. He knew he couldn’t stand there staring at you all night like some love stricken fool. He forced himself to move, to draw closer to the siren that called his name without even knowing he was there. His knees buckled, faltering for only a moment as he approached the door. Pushing through, his nerves got the better of him for just a split second and his instincts slipped as his eyes merely tracked you throughout the bustling restaurant. Forgetting to duck his head like he usually did, the top of Miguel’s forehead smacked into the doorframe with a soft thud.

He winced, inhaling sharply as he stumbled inside for a moment. He grit his teeth, more so from annoyance rather than pain. He shut his eyes, hoping to drown out the throbbing at the front of his skull if he rubbed it hard enough. He was grateful that almost everyone else seemed too enveloped in their own mindless conversations to even notice he’d arrived.

Almost everyone.

Approaching Miguel, you looked up at him. His hulking frame would’ve been intimidating had it not been that he slouched a little as he held his head. For the first time since you met him, it made your eyebrows draw upward in concern.

“Sir, are you okay..?”

It took Miguel a moment to open his eyes, his scarlet irises glancing down at you. Slowly he took in the shape of you, nodding his head sheepishly as he swallowed. His hand fell away from his head as he tried to regain his composure. This had been the first time since your initial meeting that you’d spoken to him. Once again, that honey voice triggered the euphoric hum in the back of his mind. Once his gaze met your eyes, he felt his heart skip a beat. They were dazzling and full of genuine concern for him. The kind of eyes that men write poems and hymns about. Sweet irises that he could swim in, but he feared that if he dove in, he’d never come up for air. He’d never seen eyes like yours before. So awestruck that the only response he could give you was a low hum.

You looked down, feeling your bravery caught in your chest. Your eyes darted down to your feet and you cleared your throat, trying to remember the usual script you ran through when a customer arrived.

“R-Right, well… Table for one..?” You asked sheepishly, reaching for a menu. For a moment, Miguel feels his heart stutter. All the confidence you just had somehow managed to seep away in his presence. The way you kept your gaze glue to the floor made him frown, biting the inside of his cheek gently. He could feel the tension rising, an awkward wall you were starting to build. For half a second, Miguel felt a twinge of panic wash over him. He looked at you, searching your body for an out, a way to make things better, to make you less afraid. He swallowed thickly, scrambling his brain to try and think of something to say to lighten the mood or even make you laugh.

“Does it look like I’ve got anyone with me?”

‘Fuck.’

It comes out flat and sarcastic, not charming or teasing as he meant for it to. He internally cringes at himself as he sees the way you retract from him.

“Oh… yeah… Sorry, sir.” You mumble out and begin to guide him to his usual spot. The broken tone of your voice feels like a punch to the gut. A twist of his innards that has him wishing he could turn back time. He’s never been this awkward or nervous before. Usually his callous behavior is intentional and pointed, but now he feels it just makes him look like an ass.

“I’ll be right back to take your order…” Soft spoken and sweet, you place the menu down and walk away. Once seated, he pinches the bridge of his nose in self frustration, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out an annoyed sigh. He’s never been like this before, never been this much of a mess because of a woman. Usually his suave and charming nature takes over and he’s able to seduce anyone he damn well pleases, but for some unknown reason; you broke him. He groans quietly and shakes his head slowly, feeling the butterflies now pooling in his stomach.

‘Aye carajo, get a hold of yourself..’

It feels like his brain is on fire, criticizing every way the interaction went wrong. He feels his gut twist, pinching his nose with enough force that it starts to hurt and his knuckles turn white. The throbbing only continued as his frustration grew. His face practically morphs into a snarl as he sits and waits. Opening his eyes, he glares down at the menu before him, a pleather bound book with the edges peeling away. He tries to refocus his attention on literally anything else than his blundering attempt at conversation.

Miguel is left grumbling to himself when you return to his side. Silently you place a glass of ice water with a lemon wedge bobbing about the glass beside him. Fear beats quickly along side your heart as you wordlessly reach out your other hand, gently clutching a crude ice pack. It was nothing extraordinary, a little sandwich baggie filled with ice chips and wrapped loosely in paper towel. It’s placed on the table beside the water with care. Miguel eyes it for a moment. He feels his stomach twist again but this time its a different feeling. It flutters and it’s soft with smoother edges than before. His cheeks just hardly flush a soft pink as his features remain contorted into a grimace. Without turning his head more than two inches, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. Your eyes are once again glued to your feet, trembling hands reaching to the pen and notepad tucked into your apron. With your head down and your nose nearly buried to the paper of the little booklet, Miguel can’t see the heat that’s spread across your face.

“A-Are you ready to order..?” You squeak out in a voice hardly above a whisper.

Miguel swallows, clearing his throat as he lifts his head. The pink on his cheeks is beginning to darken as your gaze peers over your little notepad and into his crimson eyes. His face melts from frustration, his brows furrowing just a little as he stares back, trying to remember his words.

“No.. I.. Just the water is fine.” He manages to force out. His hands are absently pulling at the cheap white fabric tablecloth as he looks at you. He swears that if he could freeze time at this moment, he would. The way your gaze softens as you look at him, has him biting his tongue just hardly. The butterflies are flapping wildly about in his stomach. Miguel’s canines dig into the tender flesh as he tries to ground himself, distract himself from how pretty those lashes would flutter as he forced you to look up at him from your knees. Would you let him hold your face still while he pounds into you- he wonders.

Your eyes flit back down to your book and you nod your head.

“Y-Yes sir. If you need anything, j-just call for me.” You hold the little name badge pinned to your chest for him as if he hadn’t eyed it the first twelve times he came in to watch you work. With that, you turn on your heel and leave him. Scurrying to another table while Miguel is left merely watching.

The subtle throbbing beats against his head like a drum before he glances down at the icepack you brought over. It feels so tiny in his hand. He lets out a little groan as he presses the baggie to his forehead, relishing in the relief it just barely provides. He can’t help the smile halfheartedly pulling at the corners of his mouth as he sits there.

‘She really didn’t have to do that…’

But he hardly has a chance to bask in his appreciation when he hears it, just barely audible amongst the chatter.

“Aww c’mon sweet’art. I bet I could show ya a real good time.” The man drawls out, clearly drunk from the second pitcher of sangria he and his buddies were splitting. He’s got a toothy and sloshed grin spread across his face as his hand glides up the back of your thigh. You look mortified, eyes silently screaming for help.

Miguel feels his lip twitch as he rises up from his seat.

“S-Sir please stop..” You squeak out, too quiet for the pickled bastard to hear or care. His hand is pulling back, gearing up for a smack, when suddenly a wide tan palm wraps itself around his wrist. It’s grip is tight and overwhelming when Miguel yanks, nearly dragging the drunk out to the ground in the process.

“No la toques, pendejo.” Miguels spits with venom as he twists the man’s arm. The usual hum that played in your presence was washed out by his rage. No one should be allowed to touch you, especially not some wasted shithead. Gritting his teeth, Miguel has to remind himself that he’s in public. Eyes fly to watch the scene unfold. He grumbles lowly as the man cries out in pain before Miguel practically tosses him back into his seat. He scrambles, nearly falling out of his chair to get back from you and Miguel.

With parted lips, a little gasp escapes you. Miguel feels his conscience flooding in as he looks back at you. Wordlessly, he jerks his head towards the door and starts heading for the exit. His eyes are cold, commanding almost. He grumbles something out loud to Caparelli about leaving in Spanish as his grasp nearly tears the creaky little door off it’s hinges. His eyes trace over you once more before he turns his back on you and lets out a gruff, “C’mon.”

Sticking close behind, you slip out the door as he holds it open.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The night air is warm, the remnants of the summer heatwave still staining Nueva York. It’s mostly quiet aside from the drone of car engines as they pass by. You’re silently keeping pace with Miguel, feeling your chest rattle from the whole interaction. Frightened, confused, and over in a flash. It makes you ball your hands into tight little fists, frustration quietly bubbling up in your chest. In that moment, you froze, retracting into your shell in the hopes that you could avoid confrontation all together. You’re biting back tears as they prick at the corners of your eyes. Your mind is brewing with what ifs and how badly it could’ve gone when suddenly, his voice pulls you from your thoughts. It’s low and sultry with the fleeting taste of a Spanish accent. You couldn’t really hear the words coming out of his mouth, too busy being lulled by the sound of him. You jerk your attention to him, eyeing his lips for a moment before forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Hm?” Is all you can manage.

“I said, do you live around here?” His voice cuts through, fully grounding you and bringing you back to the present.

“O-Oh.. yea. About five blocks thata way.” You tip your head to the left. “I can just walk.”

Miguel nods his head before starting to lead the way down 48th street. You open your mouth to protest his accompaniment but let the words die in your throat. Walking side by side with your head down, you could only let your thoughts wash over you again.

Miguel lumbered on the side of the concrete closest to the street, grumbling as he kept his eyes forward. Loathing boiled inside his stomach, frothing from his mouth in a string of Spanish curses and death threats.

“If I ever see that fucker again, I swear… Llevaré su piel como un abrigo.” He growled to himself, plotting and mentally preparing for the literal hell that he was going to drag that stranger through. His fists were clenched tightly at his side, burning white until he heard a soft sniffle. Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he turned his head to face you.

Your eyes were still glued to the sidewalk beneath you, tears rolling down ruddy cheeks despite how hard you tried to keep them from spilling. The quiet sounds you made were a result of the runny nose that accompanied your tears. It all just felt so overwhelming, so scary. In a moment of quiet and scarce vulnerability, you tried to be brave. But it was so so hard.

Miguel felt his heart sink in his chest. Thoughts of annihilation and revenge washed away. Softened eyes stared down at you silently as he tried to form the right words to say to you to make the pain and fear melt away. But he couldn’t. Miguel was all too aware of the fact that he lacked the necessary eloquence. It pained him to see you trying to bottle it all up. His teeth sunk into his cheek as he scrambled internally. Finally, he loosened his tightly balled fist, letting it hang limp.

Rough, large knuckles brushed up against the back of your dainty hand. The gentle ghost of a caress, hardly grazing your flesh, almost like he was afraid you’d shatter. Warmth radiated off his hand as once again, it swept across your skin, featherlight. Your head lifted, attempting to gaze up at Miguel, but by this time, he’d turned his head away from you in a shallow attempt to hide his growing blush. Whether it had been due to your tear-blurred eyes or your own volition, you stepped hardly an inch closer to the giant, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

The rest of the trek back to your shabby apartment was quiet, muted were the sounds of Miguel’s grumbling. They were drowned out by the sounds of your indistinct humming. It was nearly impossible to hear, but it was the only thing Miguel could focus on as the two of you passed through your neighborhood. Entering a large, ten-story building, Miguel was only able to remember where he was in the flickering yellow lights of the hall to your apartment door.

Standing before your apartment, he swallowed thickly. Palms sweaty and the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge as you turned your back on him to unlock the door. You looked so small, so delicate, and so fucking pretty. He felt his heart race in his chest, nearly forgetting all together the events of nearly twenty minutes ago. Right now he just wanted to come inside with you and hold you in his arms. He wanted your body pressed against his chest, lulling him to sleep in the comfort of your bed. He wondered if those sheets smelled as sweet as you did, felt as soft to the touch. He tried to wondered if he’d prefer to rest his head amongst your pillows or your thighs, but he already knew the answer.

‘Please… please let me come in cariño… let me make you feel better… let me take care of you, just for tonight…’ he prayed to himself as he watched you open the door with caution.

Doe eyes stared up at him as his lips parted to speak. Just your gaze forced him mute. Rubbing the tears from your cheeks and smiling up at him with warmth and fondness, he thought he was going to fall to his knees right then and there.

“Thank you.. I-I really appreciate everything, sir.” You said gently, hardly above a whisper. It made Miguel savor your voice. The way it made his brain tingle and swim felt better than any liquor he’s ever had. He wanted to hear more of you, but more than anything he wanted to hear you say his name.

“It was no trouble at all. But please chula, from now on just call me Miguel…” He tried to offer the same warm smile you did but could hardly manage anything more than a sweet little smirk. Despite his expression though, you could see the light in his eyes. It was dull and flickering, but it was there, growing. You nodded your head and gave an airy half chuckle.

“Heh okay… Well then, good night… Miguel.” You spoke in the sweetest tone you could manage. Miguel felt a shiver travel down his spine. His cheeks flushed lightly and he swore he could feel his heart pounding behind his eyes. The way his name fell from your tongue made him weak and practically feral. For a moment he considered sweeping you off your feet and fucking you into the couch just so he could hear you say his name like that again. But instead he stood there, attempting to bite back his animalistic urges with his canines as you began to slip into your apartment. The door gently closed as he watched, standing there and thinking about all the ways he’d make you scream his name.

He tries to shake the thought loose but can’t. He can’t stop thinking about how sweet and obedient you’d be. How much you make his heart flutter and how crazy it drives him. Miguel feels a stirring in his chest, a queasiness that makes him feel sick for a moment as reality strolls back in. The fires of rage being stoked once more in your absence as he remembers what brought him to your apartment in the first place.

He can practically already taste blood on his tongue when he recalls the drunk from the restaurant. How terrified he made you, how something worse could’ve happened had Miguel not’ve been there. Through the haze of his anger he makes a decision, you’ll never be without protection again. He’ll always make sure you’re safe, constantly under the watchful eye of the family. Fuck if he could, he’d guard you himself, day and night.

No matter what or how, he’d keep you safe from the scum that roamed this city. He wouldn’t let the only pure thing in his life be tainted or taken away. Not again. God forbid anything did happen to you, Miguel would have to burn the whole city to the ground.

From that day forth, whenever he couldn’t watch over you himself Miguel would have one of his Spider’s watching over you. Jess or Ben would be the one’s usually sitting in an unmarked vehicle outside of Bellagino’s, stalking in the shadows to make sure you got home safe, reporting back to Miguel as he worked.

For a short while it satisfied him. That is until one night Jess reported she saw you opening the door for some friends, ushering them inside with glee as they carried bottles of wine and board games. Jess tried to explain it was fine, beyond normal even. But Miguel didn’t care. In fact he’d stopped listening to her the moment she said there was a man amongst the group of 4 that were permitted entry. Who the fuck was he? Why did he get to be so close to you? Jealousy washed over him, filling him to the brim.

‘It’s just for her protection…’ that’s what he told himself. Over and over again. Even when he had Peter install the little devices inside your house, while you were off at work. Miguel felt a tinge of guilt, sitting and watching you work with a smile on your face from his table. Meanwhile hidden surveillance cameras were being put in your bedroom, your kitchen, your bathroom, and your living room. It ate at him a little that he worried so much. But how could he not? He couldn’t let anything bad happen to you. This was for your safety, he knew better than to let you out of his sight. The last time he wasn’t watching carefully enough, it cost him… her.

No. He wouldn’t bury another person he cared about. Not when he had the power to do something about it this time. Not when you just started to warm up to him. You finally started to look him in the eye when he sat down at his usual spot. You finally started to smile at him and bless him with that angelic laugh. You started to loosen up and even stop and chat for a few minutes. Once on your break, you just sat and talked to him for the whole thirty minutes, telling him about your day and terrible jokes you thought he might like. All just to see him smile and laugh back at you. He couldn’t just let you slip away. Not when he knew what he’d do if he lost you.

As little as you knew it, you were holding his shattering mind together, keeping him from falling apart. If only you understood how much he needed you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Time never stops. It marches on, dragging the corpse of yesterday behind it. Time never ceases and neither does the on going beating of hearts and whispers of hope that pray for a better tomorrow. With time came its companion, decay. A mysterious creature that made room in the world for new hope and potential. Miguel didn’t always enjoy time’s passage, nor did he adore it’s companion decay. But with the two, a third party marched, carrying a flag of promise and beauty. With time and decay, tread growth. A glorious and shining ray for tomorrow, growth lit a path for time, giving way for hope.

Everyday that he saw your glowing face, he could feel his heart beating and mending, little by little.

But Miguel was patient, slowly learning to accept time and the company it kept. He knew to bide his time and earn your trust. He knew that with time, you’d be his.

Part 3

Taglist

@whisperwispxx @eatally @moonvoidpng @unicornbabygremlin @chshiresins @iloveyouall234-blog @amber-content

[meowhara]

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

tw : Death, violence, mention of rape, abuse, a little bit gorey

synopsis : He welcomes you into his home but at what cost?

author's note : Fun fact I already wrote a 3k+ words sequel about Miguel being a totally adorable sweetheart for the reader. But do I like it? Nah, violence is so much better. Sorry if this took me a while, I've been busy af

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Your eyes flutters open as you wake up from the longest sleep you had in a while. A massive migraine hit you hard like a brick, you winces in pain as you sit back up instead of laying on your back. It took you a while for your vision to focus until you're able to see your surroundings.

Glancing around the unfamiliar room with dim light, you're amazed by how well furnished and luxurious it is. The dirty and ugly clothes that you were wearing are gone. Replaced by a clean pair of shorts and shirt that's clearly too big for you.

The thought of your terrifying captor floods back to your mind. You look around the room for your captor. The room is oddly quiet, thank god no one is here in this room with you.

Escape is the only thing that echoes in your mind as you thought of the worst possible thing to happen if you try to escape. You never met him before, you didn't even know his name. Possibilities of things that he might be planning to do to you frightens you. What if he sell you away? Or worse, what if he is going to do what your dead master wanted him to do to you?

Your eyes are locked at the door across the room, you wonder if it's locked. But it won't hurt to try and open it right? Just when you tried to crawl off the bed, you realizes how numb your legs are. "No no, what is wrong with my legs?" Whispering to no other than yourself, you wish for your legs to somehow fix itself so it wouldn't be sore anymore.

Miracle had never happened to you before so there's no time to sob and hope anything would get any better soon. Using the neatest nightstand as your support to stand up is your only choice to push yourself back on your feet. But your legs wouldn't move at all making you fall from the bed, knocking the nightstand off including a vase that was sitting on it. It fell directly to the floor and shattered into pieces.

You panicked from how loud you're being, a loud shattering noise followed by an even louder thud can be heard from the spot you're sitting now helplessly on the floor.

Less than a second later you can hear loud and firm footsteps rushing towards the room you're in. Your breath quickens as you tried to stand back up and run but you can't, your legs still wouldn't move an inch.

The door swung open followed by Miguel, panting from how fast he ran towards the room you're in right after he heard something shattered on the floor. He looked at you with his hand still resting on the doorknob then walks towards you. Your body shakes in fear as you looks up at him with your bunny ears flat back.

He let out a low chuckle as he hovers over you, "Running away already, little one? Hmmm?" He tilts his head to the side, waiting for you to say anything. Instead of replying to his question you try and crawls away from him which obviously pissed him off, "Pathetic." He hisses at you before he lift you easily off the floor and throws you back to the bed, earning a loud yelping noise from you. He tugs on your leg, giving it a tight grip. "You know if you keep this behavior up, I might just break your legs permanently so you can't escape me at all. You don't want that do you?"

Eyes widened from his words, your gaze are now focused at your numb legs. Is he the reason why you can't walk at all? What if you can't walk anymore because of him? Tears escapes your eyes as the thoughts fills your mind. "No... Please... Not my legs." You said while sobbing, hoping that he wouldn't do such a cruel thing to you.

The second he saw you crying because of him, he lets go of your leg and took a step away. Pinching on the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes to calm himself down, he starts talking to you with a softer tone. "Look I'm sorry I scared you okay? You pissed me off every single time you try to run away from me." He looks back at you only to find you sobbing over your numb legs. A remorseful sigh escaped his mouth before he walks back over to you and start massaging your legs, making you flinched in fear from his sudden affection towards you. "It's just the drug, it hasn't warn off yet that's why your legs feels numb. Soon it'll go back to normal, trust me little one." He said before he lets your legs go then strokes your head gently, trying to calm you down.

"R— really?" You asked in between sobs. He nods and wipes your tears away with his thumbs. "I know how scared you are but please just go back to sleep, you need to rest." Shaking your head, you refuses to go back to sleep. "I don't want to."

"Why not? Is there anything wrong? It's just—" A loud growling noise from your stomach interrupts the conversation. He raised his eyebrow at you, "That's it? You're hungry?" Your face flushed red from embarrassment as you nods. He walks towards the door, "Fine, let's feed you something." He paused and looks back at you, wondering why you're still sitting on the bed. You look at him before looking back at your legs. "Right, you can't walk."

His hand find it's way under your knees and the other one behind your back before he lift you up from the bed. Carrying you isn't the hardest part, to be gentle and to not scare you off is. He carries you towards the dining room as you glances around his house, amazed. You've never been anywhere like his mansion before. Expensive paintings are hanging on the walls and other elegant decorations sits perfectly taken care of under his roof. How much money does he usually make starts to make you wonder. Countless of his men walks around the house, either just to chill and relax or working on something he asked them to do.

Multiple tall pillars stands firm up to the ceiling and the floor are made by fine and expensive marbles. Massive windows that are four times taller than you are covered with massive silver curtains, opened wide to allow sunlight in. "I can see that you enjoying the inside of my mansion." He said with so much pride before the two of you enters the dining room. He sat you down on one of the chair on the long ends of the table in the dining room.

The dining room is also luxurious and well furnished as well. With the long dining table in the middle of the room with at least a dozen of chairs to sit on. Multiple crystal chandeliers are hanging from the ceiling to lit up the entire room with some candelabras to decorate the table with candles lighting up on it. A fire place at one end of the room and a large expensive painting hanging on the other.

He sat down at the other end of the table, an arm chair prepared especially for the host or the hostess of the house. One of his servant poured him a glass of fine wine for him before walking over to your direction and did the same for you. He sips the wine right away and waits for you to do so, "Go on, try it." You look over to him nervously before taking the glass slowly with your hand and took a sip. Your bunny ears flinches from the taste of it, it's not like it tastes bad or anything it's just that you're not used to drink anything alcoholic before.

He secretly love the way you react towards the absurd taste of wine that you just tried for the first time. "Do you like it?" He asked before he took another sip, enjoying the taste of it. He has his own expensive and rare alcoholic drinks collection that he would pour for himself whenever he feel stressed and whenever he needs to relax.

"I... I like it."

"You do? Good. Pour her another glass."

"No need! I— I mean..."

You're looking for an excuse so you don't have to drink another drop of that weird redish liquid as he raised his eyebrow at you from the end of the table.

"Don't you think giving a little thing like her something alcoholic then forcing her to like it is a little bit too much, Miguel?" A lady with short brown hair waltz into the dinning room with a black shade heart framed glasses rested on her head. She walks closer to you and cupped your cheek with her hand, "Didn't know you have a thing for adorable being like her." She turn your head from side to side to get a better look of your face before touching one of your bunny ears. You flinched and whimpers from her touch, "She's sensitive huh? Are you into those fucked up kinks where you get to own one of these expensive living toys?" She teased him then let your face go but she set her eyes on you, still wondering how did a sweet thing like you ended up with such a dangerous person like him.

He let out an aggressive huff, he seems unfazed by her endless personal and frontal questions. She turned to look at him to annoy him even more, "So, have you two fu—"

"Lyla!" He roared, his voice is loud and clear across the massive dinning room. Lyla didn't flinch from Miguel's roar instead she gave him a mocking smile, "Is that a no, or...?" She paused and looks over to your direction only to find you trembling badly in your seat with your bunny ears and eyes down to avoid any eye contact. She can tell that you're very uncomfortable and scared of Miguel. Concerned by your behavior, she wants to pity you but she knew very well that she couldn't help you to find any way out to escape from him. When Miguel wanted something he'll do anything within his power to achieve it for himself and when possessiveness got the better of him, he will rip anyone into shreds if they dare to touch anything that belongs to him. Unfortunately in this case, you belongs to him.

"Forget it." She walks out from the dinning room, Miguel let out a loud sigh then taking a deep breath to calm himself down. His eyes are now focused back on you while you shift uncomfortably in your seat. No matter how much you tried you still can't understand his intention towards you.

It felt like eternity before one of his servant walks out from the kitchen with two plates of steak prepared and cooked by his professional chef that he hired to cook for his daily meals. Meaty products are not your first choice when it comes to food, it's not like your body is able to digest it anyway. So to have a whole ass steak in front of you isn't very appetizing for you. "You told me that you're hungry so stop being an ungrateful brat and eat your food." His insult made you gulp, hesitating whether to eat it or not.

"I don't think you should eat that, hun." You look up to see Lyla, "What the hell are you up to now?" He groans while rubbing his temple. She replaced the plate of steak with a bowl with varieties of fruit inside. You can feel your mouth water as you look at the cut up fruit in awe.

"Bunnies don't eat meat, you know?" She sneered at Miguel and sat down beside you to watch you eat. With a happy smile on your face, you start munching on the bowl of fruit that Lyla gave you. Miguel opens his mouth to complain but closed it back right away. He could feel like there's something wrong with him, somehow that smile of yours made his heart flutter. He never felt like this before, could something as simple as someone's smile can really make him happy? He thought to himself. The thought itself makes him wants to own you even more, to keep you here by his side forever.

He finishes his meal before standing up and left without saying anything to the both of you. Lyla shrugged, thinking that he's just pissed about the whole situation. You finished your meal a little while after him and after that Lyla help to escort you back to your room.

Hours later you woke up to some loud noises from the first floor of Miguel's mansion. This time, you're able to get up on your own feet. Curiosity got the better of you as you walks towards the bedroom door. To your surprise it opens right away with none of his men in front of your door. The whole mansion is suddenly quiet, you took it as an opportunity to run away. So you walk out from your bedroom and walks down the stairs until you reach the first floor.

His mansion is too big for you to figure out any exit, so you ended up wandering down the hall with lots of doors to your left and right. Your sensitive bunny ears fliches and stood straight up when you heard footsteps walking towards your direction so you rushed to hide inside of one of the room in that hall. You hurried to enter a random room then close the door as quiet as you can. The room you're in is pitch black with no window for sunlight to enter.

"Who the hell are you working for?!" You can hear Miguel shouting in anger from the other side of the door. The door slammed open before Miguel threw a man you've never met before into the room you're in. "You won't tell me? Fine. I'll make you tell me everything I wanted to know." You hid behind a pile of boxes as you watch the man struggling to even defend himself from Miguel's brutal force against him.

He signalled his second in command to tie the poor man on a chair before he began torturing him. Blow after blow landed on the man's face, leaving noticeable bruises that'll need weeks to recover. He winces in pain as he try to endure the physical abuse Miguel is giving to him, shutting himself up in order to protect what ever kind of information Miguel wanted to possess from him. "You're a strong one huh?" Miguel scoffed before he took a knife and carved the word "traitor" on the man's forehead, making him grunts in pain as the blood trails down from his forehead. You sat there covering your mouth with your palm with eyes wide, horrified by how cruel Miguel treats the stranger in front of you.

"After all this time I thought you're one of my most loyal men. But you're nothing but a worthless son of a bitch." Miguel spat on him, venom dripping from his words like how he mean it. "Just tell me your boss's name or I'll make the next seconds of your life a living hell." The man let out a low chuckle from Miguel's threat. "You can torture me all you want, I'm not going to tell you anything."

Miguel slapped him hard across the face, "Give me some acid." His second in command gave him a bucketful of acid and makes the tied up man struggles even more against the rope as he's looking at him in panic. "No—!" He protests. With a sadistic smirk, Miguel poured some of the acid to the man's legs. It melted through his pants before it directly melts his skin. He screams as he felt the agonizing pain on both of his legs.

Just before Miguel continue to torture him one of his subordinate walked into the room and start whispering something to him, telling him about the man's personal information including everything Miguel wanted to know about him in detail. A smirk creeps up to Miguel's face by the time his subordinate is done talking to him. "I see... Your boss was such a cunning man wasn't he? Sending a spy like you into my territory. Guess I won't be needing you anymore." He said coldly towards the tied up man before he pours the rest of the acid all over his body.

His skin burns and melts from the strong acid, melting through his clothes until there's nothing left but his bare flesh to see. Some of his bones are even able to be seen due to the absence of his flesh, melted by the acid. He kept screaming and screaming, begging Miguel to let him go. Your eyes went wide with fear and shock before looking away from the poor man as he screams in agony and pain. The smell of his burning flesh fills the room, making your stomach turn in disgust as you try to not vomit from it.

Pressing your bunny ears down against your head to muffle his screams, you ran out from the room instinctively with tears running down from your eyes. You kept running faster and faster without any clue where you're going until you accidentally bumped into one of Miguel's subordinate. Your small body crashed against his, making you fall backwards from the impact. "Woah, what are you going sweetheart?" He grabbed your wrist to help you to get back on your own feet.

A loud bang echoes from across the hallway, from the room Miguel was in. In a heartbeat, all the screams the man let out stopped. Your breath quickens even more. Miguel killed him, he killed that poor man. "Are you okay?" Without thinking you kicked him right at his groin with your strong hybrid legs, his grip loosened up on you as he groans in pain from how hard you kicked him. You pulled your hands away from him then ran past him towards the front door until you reached the road outside of Miguel's residence. "Hey get back here!" He shouted, catching the other's attention towards you.

One of them rushed to tell Miguel about your escape. Miguel's eyes went wide and his eyebrows furrows in anger when he heard you had left. "She what?! Go after her you idiots!" His men obeyed right away, they ran towards their car to go after you and drove off. Miguel does the same thing, turning his car engine on so he can have you back in his hands.

On the other side, you're running with bare feet on the side of the road. The road is empty without any sign of anyone at all. It turns out that Miguel's mansion was in the middle of nowhere, with a forest of endless trees surrounding it.

Multiple roars of engine can be heard from the distance behind you. You knew that they're coming after you just a second after you succeeded to break free and run away. You can't give up now since you've went this far against Miguel. Who knows what kind of punishment awaits you back at his mansion, what kind of pain will he inflict on you to teach you your lesson after trying to run away from him. The fear that runs in your mind is the only think that gave you the strength to keep running through the endless forest.

But what could a small bunny do against a big strong predator like him? Their car tires made some screeching noises from how hard they hit the breaks. Multiple men got out from their car and ran way faster than you, blocking your way ahead. Miguel was the last one to arrive. He stormed out from his car, slammed his car door out of rage. He stormed towards you and grabbed a fistful of your hair just when you're trying to avoid him, he drags you back into his car. "No! Let me go!" You pries on his tight grip of your hair but he's way stronger than you. He overpowered you easily and held you down in the backseat of his own car while he ordered his men to drive him back to his mansion.

"I'm very disappointed at you, little one." He growls in your ear, trapping both of your wrists in one of his massive hand and his other free hand kept a tight grip of your hair to stop you from fighting back. You sobs uncontrollably, unable to form any words out from your mouth. His mansion came into view, "I swear I'll make you regret running away from me." He continues.

The car stops, he opened the car door and kept dragging you by your hair with his subordinates following him from behind.

"Leave us, I'll take care of her."

"I'm sorry! Let me go, I'm begging you. I promise I won't runaway again!"

"Should've thought of that before you ran away from me. But you're too dumb to even think of that, aren't you?"

He brings you with him downstairs, towards what seems like a strong metal door. "What are we doing here?"

"To teach you how to behave like a good girl."

He said with a cold tone and opens the heavy door and forces you to go inside it with him. The room is dark but you can feel your feet brushing against some heavy chains of metal. He lets go of your hair and wraps his hand around your shoulder. "Sit down on the floor and be quiet, you hear me?." He ordered, waiting for you to obey his words.

You knew that he wanted you to stay here in this room as a punishment but you can't bear getting isolated just like how you did in the past. So you bit his hand that was sitting on your shoulder, hard enough for him to let go of you before running full speed towards the metal door and trying your best to push it open. The door won't even budge, it stood there tall and strong, it didn't even move a millimeter despite your effort to open it. "Was it so hard for you to just listen to me and obey?!"

He grabbed your upper arm and slammed you against the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs before putting you on chokehold and lifting your body off of the ground with his hand. "I've been very patient with you since this morning. But you've been nothing but trouble, behaving like a brat! No wonder why he treated you so badly! He should've raped you to death!" He yelled right at your face, still keeping his tight grip of your neck. You try to fight back trying to claw his hand off of you. But with no avail, his grip got even tighter.

You continue to cry as you struggles to breathe, you couldn't believe he just said that to you. Reminding you about your dead master and blamed you for all that had happened in the past. All you wanted was freedom. But these people did nothing but stole that away from you. Your body felt weak in his hand from lack of oxygen. He finally lets go of you, our body slumped weakly on the floor. You chough heavily, trying to catch some air back into your lungs. Endless tears streams out from your eyes.

He kneels before you and gripped your chin roughly to get a good look of your face. "I saved you from the world because I know how weak you are against them. One second you're out there and you might be their little plaything until the rest of your life. Think about that the next time you try to runaway from me." He took a metal collar linked with chains, connected to the wall behind you and locks it around your neck.

He stood up. Leaving your body slumped on the ground with cold concrete underneath. "Behave. Next time it will be more than just a chained collar."

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