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tarjapearce · 21 days ago

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El Diablo Wears Prada (Pt. 5)

Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Schemings, Some actual plot, emotional hurt, discomfort, power imbalance (or rather balance).

A/N: Forgot to update this one on the 31st lol, here you have. No smut this time, sorry.

The grey and white canvas of his roof made a show out of its violent strokes of painting. Irregular, jagged, and messy. Like an abstract picture, he still needed to figure it out on his own, no matter how many times he narrowed his eyes in search of a recognizable pattern in what his eyes captured.

A painting that resembled so many aspects of his life. Irregular, like his sleeping hours and meals, like the count of numbers in his friend's list. No . He had no friends. El Diablo couldn't afford them. Much less Miguel. Jagged, like every relationship he got into, either platonic, or fool enough to make it romantic, just to scratch his itch for a contact that wasn't a threat or a death sentence, but enough to sate his need for brief affection and reinforce the walls around his unobtainable heart, once they were done.

And messy. What in his life wasn't exactly that but worse? Life hadn't been exactly lenient on him, and it didn't help his choices only resumed his existence into a threat to those that refused to go under the shaping of his lifetime philosophy. Deeds, not Words.

Acta non Verba.

A mantra that got him through the toughest and darkest times of his life and the very same that carried engraved in his gold ring. The constant rejection of his surroundings by his foreign origins as he grew up, shaped his mettle. The many failed marriages of his late mother conditioned his mind into seeing relationships as transactions and unnecessary distractions. The last marriage he witnessed taught him a valuable lesson.

Love is for the weak, power is absolute.

Conchata had married George, in a foolish attempt to escape Tyler's mob connections, despite the man wearing the CEO title at Alchemax. But little did she know George was a made man into the Irish Mafia. An associate who gave her Gabriel.

An associate who eventually broke the omertà , the silence vow, against none other but Tyler. Earning not only his own death but Conchata's. And it was the first mess Miguel experienced. He and Gabriel ended up under Tyler's roof. Being shaped, molded, and transformed into not only prepared and intellectual men, but also deadly and dangerous individuals who, in a matter of half a decade, had special spots in Alchemax's underground Mafia.

The whole company facade had been a great cover for money laundering, counterfeit, shylock business, and of course, drug trafficking. Drugs that came from the same lab Miguel was manager for a time, as he directed the whole drug unit. Until Tyler himself invested him with the absolute power a fucked up parental figure could. He'd be the next chairman. The next capo, his replacement.

But in truth, the CEO himself had not only broken the silence vow but ratted out the most important pieces of his organization, to leave Miguel a clean path from so many years of conservative and square-shaped ideas, that refrained him from his true potential. A green light for his son to do as he pleased, with whatever resources he had left. Tyler's death was a hard and ever-constant warning to always honor one's word. Even if it became one's death.

And now, a new and pretty mess lay before him, snuggled perfectly against one of the many pillows the bed held, holding onto the cushioned object like it was someone, with a supple and inviting thigh propped above it. A feeling he woke up startled to, as he was too lazy and tired to make it to the uncomfortable couch.

Your mumbles awoke him from his already frail sleep, and much to his surprise you were there, snuggling against his chest without a care in the world. Like if you always belonged there, with your cheek smooshed against his solid pec, leaving a trace of crusty and dry saliva on him, completely relaxed. And it disturbed him.

You either had to be too tired to ask for another blanket and seek warmth in him, or the room was too cold and the thin sheets helped little to keep you warm.

Was this intentional on your end? No, he was just making assumptions from lack of proper sleep. The shooting, his escape, and your delicious panic in his mouth only mixed into a volatile cocktail of doubts and introspection, and they stirred even more violently within him after sharing that moment of peace and truth with you, things that sometimes he doubted their existence as they were so scarce in his chaotic life, they rendered a rarity. A gift life conceded him from time to time.

His red eyes wandered over the golden sunshine's river plastered over your exposed thigh, only to stop at your tightly bandaged ankle. The initial crimson spot that filtered through had turned brown, the nick in your skin wasn't deep but proved a nuisance at best in your walking. But nothing that his hands and your knowledge could fix.

The news of you being a nurse took him by surprise, as you didn't look like the kind of woman who sweated and bled for her dreams. But again, Massimo had been in charge of this trophy wife transformation.

Your skin was so soft that Miguel doubted for a hot minute if he was touching a real person, real flesh. Your hair shone, healthy and strong. Manicured hands that had all hardship lines erased by the constant pampering Massimo put you through to keep you busy and blissfully ignorant of his doings.

Even though honesty was the star between you last night, the questions kept churning in Miguel's mind with an uninvited and unexpected surge of curiosity. His brain refused to believe there was only this pampered perfection you presented yourself with, that there was more behind all the shine and sparkle.

And for a man who prided himself on mastering the arts of minding his business, the sudden interest in your motivations, your persona, and what drove you to be so desperate in keeping a man like Massimo on your side and life, truly unsettled him.

"¿Qué voy a hacer contigo, ratoncita?" (What am I to do with you, little mouse?)

He sighed, equally irked and tired. All his brain wanted to do was think and explore whenever he talked to you, instead of his usual think and command. He didn't know if it was good or bad. Or a menace overall.

With another annoyed huff, he stood from the chair he was watching you from and passed a hand over his face to grab his phone and put his mind elsewhere, where it belonged. With his people and empire.

A few voicemails of Peter reassured him everything was as alright as it could be. Their fallen men were getting picked from the scene and the funerary rites, meaning bags being packed with money, were prepared for the fallen soldier's families. He texted some more orders to Jessica and got into the shower.

His eyes admired your stitching work and damned be him if he didn't admit you were good. It was as aesthetically and efficient looking, unlike the sloppy butchering he often did in his own flesh. It didn't hurt, nor burn, just itched ever softly like any healthy and healing wound would. He dried, washed his teeth, and got dressed into the hotel's pajamas, the only thing available in his hands, but enough to make him look presentable towards the rest.

He took a pen and scribbled down a note, huffing at the mere idea of having to inform you about his whereabouts so you do not panic and worry. His eyes rolled. More like for you to not try anything stupid in the meantime he was gone suited the situation better. With a last curious look over his shoulder and a brief flash of the lovely dip of your lower back engraved in his brain, Miguel left the room.

-----

The beeping of your tracking device around your wrist rose you from the exquisite and much-needed slumber. For how long have you been sleeping? Where was Miguel? Your eyes stopped at the note next to your side of the bed.

The fridge is full, the line's cut, and the place’s locked. I'll be back.-M.

Your eyes raked over the words written, taking in how the M curved almost too elegantly as the only pretty thing scribbled in it. At least you knew he'd return and that you had food.

Before your brain darted into a myriad of questions on his doings and whereabouts, you removed the sheets and sat on the bed. Rays of sunshine caressed your naked skin, warming you with their glow on your back in a meek attempt to emulate the scrumptious warmth that blanketed you last night. Your hands darted towards the bandaged ankle.

Although done properly, you had to change the soiled garments. So you took a clean towel and showered, washing the cut thoroughly before proceeding with the rest. Drying, dressing up in one of the hotel's pajama shirts as the pants were too big they fell off your hips, brushing your teeth, and flossing. You combed your hair and took a proper look at the wound.

Nothing too gruesome, just a mean bruise forming around it, the swelling had decreased considerably and it no longer oozed with blood and plasma. The pressure of the bandages had helped enough to allow you to support your foot. Although you still limped, walking wasn't as difficult as yesterday, despite the nick's uncomfortableness.

The rumble of your belly echoed loudly through the room, demanding attention. Your steps guided you to the suite's kitchen. Fancy as the rest of the place. An induction and ceramic stove, perfectly indented within a marble island, a fridge that was embossed into the wall with that decorative exterior Massimo had agreed on, it was like a smaller version of your own kitchen.

The fridge as the note said was stacked with the basics, fresh meat, vegetables, and drinks. You wasted no time gathering some few items and washing them. Lost into the brief lapsus of domesticity to avoid thinking things that would definitely give you a headache later. A little late you realized you had prepared two plates. Like you usually would when living with Massimo.

But probably Miguel would eat it. You hadn't seen the man bite anything since you arrived at the hotel. And even later, you realized the warm presence behind you, pressing against your back. Firm hands rested on your hips, humming with approval upon not finding any bumps of seamlines of underwear underneath.

"Uh, breakfast is ready I guess. Don't know how you like eggs and-"

A warm breath tickled your neck as the tip of his nose ran up and down, sniffing and taking a proper whiff out of you.

"W-What are you doing?! You gotta be kidding me," You pushed him back, gaining a chuckle "Don’t you have an off button or something? Jesus."

The sudden unknown yet rich laugh sent a cold shiver down your spine as you turned to see the stranger behind you. In your panicky surge, you dropped the pan, spilling the rest of the food on the floor as you pushed him entirely away from you, brain too heavy with terror. In your haste to escape, you slipped with the food on the floor, earning the mirthful stranger another laugh as you fell on the ground.

"Relax, Chula! I'm not gonna hurt you!"

His voice was rich and colorful, like Miguel's but this one didn't have the usual bite El Diablo had. Yet you couldn't trust him despite his words of soothe.

"HELP!" You shrieked while crawling away from him, tears welling up in your eyes at the mere idea of a stranger being able to come in without issue into a place where Miguel promised to be safe. What he'd to do you? How did he enter and why he kept smiling like a total fool on your fear?

Sick fuck

Where was Miguel? Had he sold you out? Where had he been gone to-

" Ya! Basta! " (Stop it)

Miguel's commanding voice boomed through, stilling your pathetic moves and earning a jester laugh from the intruder.

" ¿Qué mierda estás haciendo aquí, Gabriel? " (What the fuck are you doing here?)

Strong hands pulled your crying and shaking frame and your hands immediately clung to the front of his pajama shirt. Anchoring to reality as his eyes darted to your ankle. The sudden move surely would get it swollen again.

Gabriel shot him a curious eye upon witnessing his brother's kind nature coming to a float.

"Heard what happened. News spread faster than the shooting you had. Wanted to make sure you were fine."

Miguel grunted in response and sighed when a sniffle from you reached his ears.

"Come." He wasted no time and hooked his hands around your waist and knees, lifting you without any issue. Another cling of you had him huffing, "Relax. You'll be fine." He mumbled flatly while taking you to the shared bedroom, and placing you on the bed.

"Where did you go?! You told me this place was safe!"

" Ya ," He put his hands in front, in a soothing motion, " Tranquila . Was picking up our clothes."

"W-Whose that man, Miguel?"

His mouth remained shut, ignoring deliberately your question as he approached the door.

"Stay here." He ordered without much room left to argue. Said clothes had been long forgotten on the entrance as he heard your screams for help. The unfamiliar feeling of anxiety shot heavenward when he heard the struggling and the glass breaking. He truly didn't think his security would be compromised so easily, but upon seeing it was only Gabriel, the anxiety was replaced with annoyance.

"You know you can't be here, Gabri."

"Well, excuse me for being a good brother and worrying about your dumb ass getting shot."

"Told the receptionist to not let anyone in." El Diablo grumbled, "Including you."

"Nothing a good tip can help. Meaning, you gotta get out of here. They ain't loyal." Gabriel spoke as he served himself a glass of whiskey, face souring at the taste, and smirked, "Look I'm sorry I scared your plaything, didn't know she would get all nervous and shit. Can you really blame me for getting all excited when seeing your actual wet dream come true?"

Miguel rolled his eyes and picked up a broom and trash collector and handed it over to his brother.

" Cállate ya." (Shut up already)

"Like... Recién bañada, cocinando pa' los dos, oliendo riquísimo, sin nada más que una camisa encima. Por favor, Diablito. No todos tienen tus gustos exóticos, sometimes the simple is the best."(Freshly out of the shower, cooking for two, smelling delicious with nothing but a shirt on. C'mon man, not everyone has your exotic palate.)

"Forget about it." Miguel spat dryly as he cleaned up the mess, you once again did, on the counter. One plate of food was in pieces on the floor and the other was neatly arranged on the counter. "Clean this up, please," Miguel ordered while taking the remaining plate of food and leaving it in the bedroom for you to eat.

Gabriel had no choice but to obey and picked up the shattered plate and food quickly. "I've got news. Shit's getting complicated."

Fuck.

How would he explain to his brother that he also had news? And none of them pretty.

"How complicated?" It was Miguel's turn to serve himself some whiskey as Gabriel spoke.

"This Bianchi man has been around. Reuniting with the FBI."

"You mentioned that." Miguel gulped the whiskey in a go and Gabriel nodded

"Yeah, I did. What I did not mention is that the FBI is protecting the parents of that son of a bitch's wife. If I thought you were paranoid, you should've looked at this man."

What is he playing at?

"So the parents are alive."

Gabriel nodded and sat on the couch, legs sprawled, placing his fancily dressed feet on the coffee table.

"Alive and ignorant. They're looking for their daughter. Nothing has been out in the news since this cabrón told the police he's under attack and wants as much discretion as possible to not get his wife hurt."

Miguel rolled his eyes so hard they hurt, an unbelieving scoff escaped him.

"So, he's playing the hero and the exemplary husband."

"And everyone's buying it. But I know better. Ese hijo de la remil puta que lo parió y la perra de su esposa se están escondiendo . I know so. Even fucking Kingpin knows so, which leads us to another problem." (That son of a bitch and the bitch of his wife are hiding.)

Miguel had to grip his hand on each side of his hips as his shoulders slumped. It was problem after problem, without truce, or end, and everything revolving around you or Max. Weary ropes tugged at his patience.

"There's a snitch in our team."

------

Massimo walked through the diner's door. The neon red and pink letters illuminated his face as he made his way toward an empty table in the corner. The greasy bacon smell tickled his nose, along with the coffee and freshly buttered toasted bread. The murmurs of the many clients drowned the tinkering of a spoon a man sitting before he did. The scrapping had Massimo grinding his teeth together until another voice snapped him out of his vexed trance.

"Are we humble now, Mr. Bianchi?"

Massimo just scoffed as his eyes pretended to look at the menu. His back faced his informant and vice-versa. And it was better that way. Just two men with a common goal in their hands. Bringing Miguel down.

"I rather the term discreet. Mr. Davis."

Aaron scoffed, as he nursed his freshly brewed coffee cup a waitress brought him.

"The shooting was a partial success. Osborn is dead, Octavius is out of the game, same for Kraven. Yet, El Diablo ... still leads the game."

Massimo's eyes narrowed dangerously. The mere mention of his sworn enemy had his veins flaring in sheer rage. The moment he raw dogged you before him, and took you away from him, a switch turned. Bianchi had burned the house to the ground, as it was rather easy to hide all the evidence against him, the beating had been more than convincing to have the cops and justice once again on his side.

Massimo had blamed Miguel for his home, for the disappearance of many people and his missing wife.

"She's with him all the time."

"Bet. Sadly, she's the kind of woman that clings to whatever gives her some sense of security." The lawyer spoke, truly convinced of what he knew so far. "Women like my wife spend their life waiting for a man like me to save them from their insignificant and boring lives."

"Those are hard words for your wife, Mr. Bianchi."

"I know her. The moment that sense of security falters, she'll try to escape, even if he fucks her silly every night. She'll get away."

"Excuse my opinion, but so far, he seems quite compliant with her. She's always protected and he's the only one with access to her. Even gotten her some gifts."

Massimo chuckled, he had also used that tactic with you, buying your affection through things he knew a woman wasn't able to resist. He even used your need to appeal to him in his favor by keeping you in check and under his control so far.

"And he has protected her from the danger, not once but twice."

That phrase alone however had his smile faltering for a second, only to deepen the wicked smirk plastering over his thin lips.

"I see. Seems like the devil got himself a new favorite toy." Massimo mumbled as he threw the menu away from his hands, "Too bad I don't like sharing my toys. Even if they get a better treatment."

Aaron could only huff. "I expect my payment within the next two days."

"I'm a man of word in matters that deem worthy, Mr. Davis. Don't you worry about it."

"Are you gathering his money?"

A derisive laugh escaped Massimo, grinding almost too strident into Aaron's ears.

"Paying criminals is not in my resume, Mr. Davis. Four million for a man like O'Hara is like giving out twenty bucks to someone. There are things far more important than collecting money that eventually I'll earn back by pulling out one of his associates from jail. I just gave myself an advanced payment."

"So your wife-"

"Oh, I will get her back. Just not right now. It's too dangerous. Hate to admit this, but she's far safer with that stronzo than out of his protection. Do keep an eye on her, Mr. Davis. Your services are always well rewarded." (asshole)

Massimo left the diner, with a twenty buck bill under the menu as a tip. His plan moved forward, he just needed to wait a bit more. If there was a crack in Miguel, he'd find it. He excelled at it after all. But it was even better when he exploited said cracks to his advantage. If you were turning into his favorite plaything, he'd make sure to explore all the options in his repertoire of tricks to get you back. Even if that meant to act like a loving and desperate husband again.

-----

"She's who?"

Gabriel's biting tone crisped Miguel's ears, but unavoidable as it was keeping secrets from his brother wasn't an option. Not when the snowball of problems kept growing bigger and bigger, escaping out of his more-than-capable hands.

Your ears perked up at the booming of voices behind the door. You had scarfed down the food as the conversation was far more interesting than anything.

" You knew I was searching for info and hid her right under my nose, Miguel! ¿Qué mierda te pasa?" (What the fuck is wrong with you?)

" Me pasa que también he pasado por alto el hecho de que te andas codeando con la policía. No me sermonees con esa mierda." (Happens that I've also overlooked the fact you're mingling with cops. Don't you give me shit for it.)

" It's different! I don't even mingle directly with them! I use a third-party connection-"

" Same shit." El Diablo scoffed and slicked his hair back, "Look-"

"You can't expect me to believe that shit! For all we know, that bitch could rat us out like her husband." Spat Gabriel, taking the whiskey flask from the table. A drink was a must to help his brain be less overwhelmed by the info his brother just dumped into him.

"She didn't even know her husband owed that much money, much less that he was cheating on her or that he had a double life."

" That's bullshit and you know it. And I happen to be allergic to bullshit, Miguel."

" It's not, alright? She barely knows anything. El pendejo kept her for appearances she doesn't even know her home was burnt to the ground and her parents are looking for her but somehow the media isn't showing up. The bastard isolated her completely."

Miguel's words came over you like an ice-cold bucket of water, like a strong punch in the gut, blowing out all air from your lungs.

My home...

You blinked, trying to digest the cold and unpalatable truth while keeping the tears at bay. The only little comfort you could get was to know your parents looked for you.

"Wait... You... You've fucked her already... haven't you?" Gabriel's eyes narrowed at his brother who only quirked a brow.

" Couple of times actually." El Diablo shrugged casually while downing his serving of whiskey

" Miguel " Gabriel groaned, holding both sides of his head, " This is why you get in trouble! You let pussy cloud your judgment!"

" I tried to make her sing and not even a peep. The bastard knows how to hide ."

" That woman will get you in trouble, Por Dios! You're well aware of what will happen if Kingpin or anyone finds out, right?" Gabriel reasoned, or at least tried cause at this point he felt like talking to a wall.

" You're the only one outside my circle that knows about it. So far she has proven to be truthful in her words. I know she's fucking annoying, that you don't trust her, I get it."

Fucking annoying

Your chest stung upon the phrase alone, but his next words had your heart sunk.

" But I'm doing everything in my power to solve this. Do you think I'm not tired of this shit? Of her and that fucking idiot of her husband shitting in my business? If I didn't have anything to lose, I would've gotten rid of her a long time ago."

The rest of the conversation was a mere blabbing blur behind the door, you were too busy nursing whatever emotions swarmed you. You didn't know which one was worse, to think that you could be civil enough with him, friendly even, or that you had shared one of your most vulnerable moments with someone like him in hopes of leading the party between you in peace.

Stupid idiot. They're all the same.

By instinct, your hand reached up and wiped the tears that barely made it to your cheekbone. If he was tired, so were you. Tired of his mood swings, of his secrecy, of holding you back with no information whatsoever besides knowing you were a target, of his hot and cold games with you.

Tired of his stupid antics, but more importantly, you were tired of being kept in the shadows and used like a mere toy for his amusement. You were tired of being trapped between the cat's paws and taken as ignorant.

Despite the newfound pain and anger flowing through your system, you pressed your ear against the door once more.

"- Maybe they can try and help us."

"Get a meet with them as soon as possible. We gotta find Max. We're already neck deep in this, we gotta see it through before Kingpin does. I've got enough on my plate to get into a war with him."-----

Miguel's order had been clear, get ready and meet him in the parking lot.

Gabriel had returned after a couple of days to give the news El Diablo needed to hear. An audience had been arranged and they had to go as soon as possible given the tight agenda this person handled. Luckily, the swelling and uncomfortableness in your ankle had been gone.

You on the other hand had no interest in appealing to your captor's eye. Not when the truth had popped that harsh reality bubble you avoided with all your might. All that imagery of coquetry in the outfit he picked for you, if you could call it that, turned into this casual and nonchalant set of jeans, sneakers in case you had to run again, and a sweater, as nights started to get colder.

Even so, it was elegant. Like the usual and casual rich man's wife style and a clear I do not give a fuck to him. Yet the drumming in your heart betrayed you, the beating echoed powerfully and faster the more you approached the car.

The frown in his face upon watching you was priceless, as it also granted you a proper look at his brother. Less tall than him, but proportionally beefy, tattoos peeked under his well-dressed-up sleeves, green eyes that seized you with debating apprehension and curiosity. Different but equally dangerous and idiotic .

Men.

"What are you doing?" The impatience in his voice licked your skin as he took hold of your arm.

"I'm cold. Won't wear something that barely covers my ass in this weather."

His hand let you go as you entered in the deepest corner of the seat, Gabriel just shrugged with a knowing look and Miguel sighed, sensing the tension in the back of his skull, spreading like a poison through his brain. It was going to be a hard night.

Ever since that evening with Gabriel finding out the truth, you had been off. He knew you talked back, sassed him even, but now, the only things he heard was the good morning, or goodnight from you. Even his civil questions were met with short and curt answers. And he didn't know if this irked him cause of the setback between you, or if this irked him cause his mind wouldn't stop wondering what he had done wrong to have you acting like he was The Black Death to avoid. And now this.

You were rebelling in your own not-so-subtle way, and once again, he didn't know whether to be pissed or give you praise for disobeying him so deliberately. But all those thoughts were pushed aside since the task laid ahead required all his attention in order to get at least a clue of where Massimo was.

The car took off, and the silence was too comfortable to be broken. His red eyes however stole glances from you here and there. Apparently, the window and its contents were far more interesting for you than asking where would you go, where would you be, and what would you do. Gabriel seemed too into his phone screen.

His mind drifted to you once again, his initial pick for your body would've looked marvelous, but there was something almost homey in your outfit that tickled his imagination. The smell of that cherry body wash still engraved into you filled in his lungs. Your hair, messily combed just added a bonus to the overall incipient interest. It was far from that pampered perfection he was bothered by. And much to his dismay, he found that simplicity very much attractive.

The trip was silent, none dared to speak a word. Until the SUV stopped before a two-floored building with a neon sign in capital letters "Kwan". The line of people outside piqued your curiosity as the bouncer checked, and allowed a group in.

"We're here" Ben announced and opened the door for everyone to step outside.

Entering wasn't an issue, but navigating through the sea of dancing people was. Sweat and an assorted variety of perfumes assaulted your smell, the music boomed through every corner, and some people even bumped into you, having Miguel grabbing you by your shoulders and guiding you to a more secluded space on the second floor.

Two guards stepped aside and allowed you in, the cool breeze of the AC unit hit your face the more you ventured in and removed yourself from Miguel's grasp. The music was no longer ringing in your ears, rather a pair of female voices in the bottom door filled in the echo.

"Seems like they're in a good mood" Mumbled Gabriel, as he knocked. The voices stilled and a man opened the door, revealing one of the fanciest offices you had ever seen. Second close to Miguel's penthouse.

"So, the pompous jerk finally decided to get some help, huh?" A gorgeous woman, with a stylish haircut and a sharp beautiful face, dressed up in a suit that dipped enough to show her cleavage, stared at him, amused.

"Kwan."

"The hell you mean Kwan, Miguel, don't be rude!"

El Diablo scoffed as another woman, with short, caramel hair and heart glasses, dressed up in a white and fluffy collar, approached him, waving a warning finger.

"We haven't seen you in so long and the first thing you do is to come here and ask for favors? Hmph, talk about consideration."

"Lyla.” He greeted with a quick nod and a bored scowl, “Need a word with Xina. Alone."

"Oohh. Alone?" Her brows wiggled playfully, "Just don't be as noisy as the last time, please. I still have nightmares about it." Her attention immediately shifted towards you, beaming from ear to ear.

Miguel's eyes met yours for a moment just as he was turning around to follow Xina, and you glared, tearing the clashing stare away to focus on something else. His lips pursed and his nose flared, to then follow Miss Kwan through a door.

"Who are you?" Lyla took your chin to have your eyes focused on her as she raked her scrutinizing gaze over you. "Pretty. Very pretty but boring. Why did you dress up like that?"

"None of your business." You snapped and this only made the short-haired woman giggle.

"You're angry. I like it. Got a solution for that. Come."

"No, no. She's to stay here." Gabriel got in between you and an eager Lyla, "Miguel hasn't given any permission to do so."

"I don't see Miguel here, Gabri. Plus, I need a drink, and I'm sure as hell this babe needs one too. Do you think going through a cheating husband and a pissy-ass man as your captor is easy? Think again, O'Hara. And those two take a long long time. Come!."

Ironically, everyone or at least a good amount of people seemed to know what was your deal, who you were and the circumstances revolving around you. But in truth, you didn't care. The bar seemed way too appetizing for you to be emotionally constipated tonight.

Lyla ordered, and immediately you gulped down your margarita.

"Woah, slow down sweet cheeks. All in this bar is pure alcohol."

You snorted, ordering another one. "Sounds perfect."

Lyla only regarded you for a long time before smirking.

"You're angry at him, aren't you?"

"Hm?"

"Don't hmm me. You're angry at Miguel. You got the same look Xina had when she found out he had a new girl."

"Or I seriously couldn't give a fuck about him right now and just wanna get drunk."

Lyla just whistled lowly and pursed her lips, "Yeah. Drop the margaritas then. Let's try a Diablo instead."

"Does he really have a drink named after him?" your nose scrunched up in disbelief as the bartender served the flamboyant and burning red drink, "He's a pompous jerk after all."

"You've got no idea," Lyla mumbled while taking her drink in a go. Her eyes pinned you in place, and mischief twinkled behind them. -------

Just as Lyla had said, they took long. An hour had passed, and the drinks had been a bit too much, so Lyla took you to the dance floor. There wasn't a single concern in your brain, there weren't bad guys, nor mob lords after you, no cheating husbands and idiotic men. Just you, the music echoing, booze in your system, and your feet moving as if the Dancing Plague had taken over you.

Lyla cheered and danced with you, gathering you in your arms bit by bit until her hand cupped your chin.

"You should visit me more," She mumbled half drunk, half mumbling over your mouth, "Xina is so boring at times!" She giggled and you followed. Her hand circled around your waist, the contact sent shivers down your spine, and even in your drowsy state, your eyes widened when Lyla cupped your chin and pulled you down for a kiss.

Your giggles and gasps muffled in her lips when the hacker deepened the kiss, earning a groan from you, your hands reached up for her nape, pulling her down to you, and she groaned, some people even stopped to stare at you both but it quickly ended as Gabriel broke you both apart.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Hissed the green-eyed O'Hara more to you than Miguel’s associate, but Lyla giggled and took his chin.

"You're ruining our girls-only night, O’Hara!"

The temperature rose between you as a delicious shiver crawled up your spine when Gabriel placed a hand around your waist to pull you further from Lyla. The last thing he wanted was to have Miguel call him irresponsible for letting you mingle with her. The O’Hara’s knew what kind of person she was once drunk, and the least of things you needed was attention.

But alcohol made you both stupid and bold. Your hand snuck around Gabriel's face, and as if in slow motion, you pulled his face in a perfect alignment to have his lips against yours, too hot and bothered by the alcohol to ignore the urge tugging through your body. You didn't care, why would you if you were to die anyway? Why would you when the man you thought you could trust and reach a breakthrough was probably rearranging that gorgeous woman's insides? If he was playing, so could you. Right?

You were as single as any other woman in your position would. And the lack of the golden band around your finger only reinforced that thought. A thought that Miguel had been also feeding with his wisdom.

Despite your hands tangling in Gabriel's hair, almost knocking down his goggles from their spot, the kiss was... off. Not because Gabriel was too shocked to put an effort into it as you kissed and bit softly his lips, tearing a surprised groan from him. You didn't know what it was, but when you pulled out from the soft lips to walk over where Gabriel led you, your eyes once more stopped against red ones, that pinned you in your spot from above.

Gabriel wiped his bottom lip and cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Let's go."

He pulled you away from a protesting Lyla by the arm, but your eyes didn't waver from Miguel's. Yet, he was the one averting his eyes first.

El Diablo looked away.

------

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#t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #El diablo wears prada

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tarjapearce · 1 month ago

Text

Si, Mi Señora. (Pt. 1)

WARNINGS: Sub! Miguel. Smut. Nipple play, use of toys, sensorial play, power play, fingering (M! receiving) edging, orgasm denial, restraining, flogging, gentle femdom, praise, friendship reinforcement.

Summary: Miguel, the city's hero, your missing best friend, is a pillow biter.

A/N: Sorry if this is whack. Haven't written smut in a loooong while. But hope you like ♥️✨ Pd. Apparently my blog is blocked?? Rule infringement? Dunno. Ugh. Reblogs and comments much appreciated <3

Miguel Dumbass O'Hara. A name you grew up pronouncing in such different ways to the point of butchering it to your convenient likings. Miguelito when he was being a pesky pain in the ass, Miguelín when you rather liked to annoy him over a girl he was having a crush on, and his least favorite, Miggy when you scolded him for being an overall pompous jerk.

High school is where you both met, being paired over a stupid science fair. He as the organizer and you, his assistant, a spot earned by your good grades, yet life branded the event as the start of an unlikely friendship. What started with spiritless and quick greetings through the halls with recognizing camaraderie, slowly evolved in you both sharing lunches, him tutoring you, you helping him in the lab, and with his social skills.

Not that you were the queen of social butterflies, but you managed to mingle enough not to grow up stunted and deprived of intrapersonal skills. Then college arrived and with it, a new stage in your life.

Freshmen and sophomore years were in charge of tightening the friendship tie, until the third year and its changes arrived with its boisterous presence, completely unannounced in your dynamic. In few words, Alchemax happened.

The famous company you dreamed of working in, finally allowed themselves a lenient space for internships. The news spread like fire over a gunpowder fabric.

Miguel, however, couldn't care less about the news or anything regarding the company. Even so, he didn't prevent you from trying your best shot at it. He encouraged it in his own blunt and sarcastic way, matter-of-factly.

"They fucking better take you in."

"Or what? Gonna tell them it's their loss and shit?" You mumbled while stealing the last bit of empanada from his hand to devour it with a shit-eating grin in a go.

"No, they better take you in, can't stand your dumb ass in my lab forever." He swatted your head at your stealing but pursed his lips with a smile only you managed to get so far.

"You're too caring, Princeso."

His nose scrunched up at the terrible nickname he had the misfortune to translate for you once and ever since it stuck with you to annoy him. "Remind me to not teach you any more Spanish, please."

Oddly, what was your dream, turned into his biggest nightmare. They didn't take you, but him. With greedy hands and promises of a bright future, they took your best friend, your partner in chemical and mathematical crimes, from your side. Tore him from the comfort of your late-night talks, isolated him from your company by keeping him busy like a modern slave, attached to his computer and machines you barely knew how to pronounce without them coming like a tongue-twister every time you tried to name them. When you had the time to see him, your heart sank every time.

Tired, emotionally drained, and dragged, like someone had chewed him whole and spat on, and not enough on it, stomped over and set on fire, in that order, over and over. His eye bags nearly packed for vacation, and his voice, once attractive and secretly toe-curling for you, had turned into this croaky and forever fatigued mumble. His lanky physique slowly changed into this gaunt self, as the result of constant stress making him it’s personal toy every day without a rest, relegating the most basic needs to the last place in his priority list.

Miguel barely had the energy for himself, let alone a friendship or any sort of relationship. You could only be a witness of his incipient reclusion, and eventually, the only thing you managed to catch were crumbles in the shape of glimpses of him. Texting became scarce, and almost a rarity between both. And when you tried to joke about the situation itself, it only fired backward by him ghosting you, or him replying your way with a drier than the Sahara punchline.

There was little left to do after that.

What ended up burying for good all the ties, was that grim and ominous explosion in Alchemax's main lab. Several people were injured, The Public Eye became involved in the investigation, naturally, and everyone on campus knew that when they got involved, nothing good would come out of it. News reported the injured were taken to the hospital. And still, no trace of Miguel.

He had gone MIA as if the earth had decided he was too good to be among mortals and swallowed him whole. Erasing his existence from its face. In a matter of half a year, your friendship, and everything that rendered his existence, vanished. The initial plans of graduating together, dead. The pursuit of a job and perhaps getting a spot as his assistant since he was way smarter than you, with more possibilities to land a good job, also dead. Like him.

Right?

You often wondered what had happened since his body was never found, but the accident was one of the most famous in Nueva York. And now, almost three years after, there you were, freezing in the biting cold Christmas winds on Alchemax's parking lot's upper floors.

In the end, after surfing through different and unconventional jobs, you landed a spot in the multinational as an administrative manager. The science field was not only ruthless and competitive but with none to finance your research, your title remained as a fancily framed piece of carton hung in your cozy apartment's wall.

But hey, I did it. I work in Alchemax.

What you did not do, was noticing the scraggly looking man, approaching with wobbly and unsteady steps your way. His crusty eyes seizing you like if you were his golden ticket to a good amount of cash for the drugs in his system. His pungent smell had your brain reacting a bit too late as he scrunched his trembling and twitching hand in the the back of your hair and pulled.

"S-Stop!" Alarmed, you shouted for help, but this earned you a slam on the fence's edge as his other hand tore in a few yanks your purse, your eyes widened with utter terror when your upper frame slid above the edge, tipping into the abyss, but your fingers refused to let the bag go, the only thing that prevented you from falling completely into the void of neon and blinding lights.

"Let it fucking go, you bitch!" The man shrieked, pushing you off the edge, gravity acting like a reckoning force on your body as it propelled forward, falling, passing floors in a matter of seconds. You were falling, spiraling into a certain death that blurred more and more thanks to your tears. Was this it? Was this the end of your short life? Certainly.

You didn't have time to think, much less create a mental apology to yourself for not being brave enough to live the way you wanted, cause all you could see was the floor, ready to take your body in a deathly embrace the more you inched closer to your end. All you could do was hope it didn't hurt that much. Yet...

The impact never came.

All your air plunged out of your lungs as something, rather someone caught you before a lurid crime scene was born. Involuntarily your hands clung to the solid, blue, and red, warm blur of muscles that wrapped a hand around your waist, holding your trembling body.

"F-Fuck, Oh God..." You whimpered and nearly tripped on your feet when the man clad in the familiar suit you've seen online through the news, landed on a desolated spot of a building. Despite having the ground under your feet, you refused to let the massive man, go. Your eyes remained shut, too fearful to open your eyes and see nothing but air again.

When his hand tried to pull you away, you clung tighter, making him sigh.

"You gotta let go." He instructed flatly, but your hands refused to loosen their grip, your nails almost burying into his back.

Your head shook, the faint smell of manly sweat tickled your nose, and the heat irradiating from his body warmed up your freezing bones.

His hands took you by the gruff of your coat's collar with ease as he tried to put you on the floor, but you refused to leave him.

"Let. Go." He warned, irked you were clinging to him like a second skin.

He understood, really, it wasn't easy to process you were about to die such a horrible death, but the life of a hero was everything but a piece of cake, there was always something to do and you were eating his time away.

"No!" You whimpered, "I don't wanna fall!"

He groaned and grabbed your coat tighter, pulling you away from him with a yank, but it was fruitless and his patience ran thin, "'Ta madre, Pulga. You're safe! You're on the ground!"

Your body slumped as the hero pronounced a special nickname, only a special dumbass in your life used to. A cold sweat ran down your spine. It couldn't be, couldn't it? There was only one person that called you that way, but said person was long dead. Missing in fact. Was he?

"M-Miguel?"The last thing you saw was his mask slowly vanishing, revealing a nonplussed face as you fainted.

-----

Your reaction was everything he expected and more when you woke up into the Spider Society. The surprise, the tears and hugs you gave him, although welcomed, didn't prepare him for the slap in his face he got from you.

"I thought you were dead! Gone for fucking good!"

He explained, almost too in detail what had happened, how everything had gone south, how the explosion was caused due Aaron Delgado trying to kill him, and how the incident gave him powers. The multiverse, and how everything had turned out until now after a heartfelt apology.

Your best friend was now a consummated hero, guardian of the multiverse, but still a dumbass with a body twice his size. Or so you used to remember.

"It wasn't easy for me. I wanted to let you know that I was fine, but... Didn't want to endanger you."

Bet. After all he told you, you couldn't stay mad forever. So you got to an agreement. Whenever he could, he'd visit you, just to make sure you didn't get in trouble but mainly to make up for all the lost time on his behalf.

----

Despite a couple of months wading in, he made sure to send you little briefs through his LYrate Lifeform Aprox- something. Lyla. The AI seemed fun, and all the opposite of him, but equally annoying. The yellow Fairy as you nicknamed her, had taken a liking to you quite quickly, always asking things about the previous life Miguel led for her 'profile'.

She kept you company whenever Miguel was late. It wasn't exactly like before but at least you had him again, and it was fun since he was in charge of getting you to bed whenever the beers shared had been too much for you. It was an unspoken code you still used.

Miguel barely drank, but when he did, you knew stress was making him his bitch, unwillingly. It went both ways, you got to see him and he got to unwind from his duties. Your place had turned into some sort of sanctuary for both. And a new element had been added to your rekindled bond, physical touch.

It started with you trying to ease his burdens a bit with a shoulder massage, neck, then head. When your fingers wafted and caressed through his dark, chestnut locks it had his brain on a choke hold, sputtering nonsense, completely relaxed.

One night in particular, he came in storming into your living room with a couple of scratches on his arms, grumbling in Spanish and glaring at everything that dared to move in his presence. He then scrunched a nearby pillow in his hand and threw it at your lap, only to lay down on it and clear his throat.

"Hello to you too, Princeso" You teased but he didn't follow.

"Can you just..." He placed your hands on his head. His cue for you to work your magic on his worries and stress.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong?" Your fingers moved gently, massaging his scalp, earning a relieved grunt from his throat as his shoulders slumped, grateful to not wear the weight of expectations any longer, yet he remained quiet. You didn't pressure him into speaking, just focused on massaging his scalp with precise and soft touches.

His eyelids drooped and his breathing pattern mellowed the more you kneaded through the ticking minutes, you chuckled and moved your fingers on the back of his scalp. You weren't ready, however, for the noise that escaped his mouth as you pressed on the back of his skull.

"Like it, tough guy?" you giggled when his eyes rolled back ever softly and a warm sigh flew past his meaty lips.

"Yes, Mistress."

Your eyes fluttered at such speed you thought you saw lights trying to process what had just come from his mouth in that buttery-soft baritone voice of his.

His eyes snapped open, terror glazing upon realizing his fuck up. Never once had you seen Miguel flustered in your life, not until now. His cinnamon skin turned burgundy in the cheeks, as all the tension you had melted away with your touch for the last hour, crawled back to him with a vice-like grip. Almost suffocating him. He quickly rose from the couch.

"Wait! Miguel!" By instinct, you scrambled on your feet, reaching and holding on to whatever surface of him landed, being his head, and tugged with enough force on his locks to pull his head back, gravity made its work as his body staggered with it.

Your body shivered when a deep, breathless, and full moan, escaped his lips. The expression in his countenance screamed absolute bliss.

"F-Fuck" His chest rose and fell as shaky and silent huffs flew out of his partially open mouth. His eyelids drooped again, fluttering softly as he stared into nothing, fighting between the logical side of him that demanded him to get up and go, and this...

You didn't even know how to address the situation. A simple tug on the right spot of his head, had no other than the massive hero, Spiderman, your best friend, moaning like a bitch in heat.

A blur of his hand slapped away yours to quickly activate the gizmo, marching towards the hexagonal, bright yellow and orange portal opening in the hall

"Mig-"

"Don't." He gruffed while rolling back his shoulders, stomping with reddened cheeks his way out.

"C'mon! It was an accident! I didn't know you were into that sort of-"

"Stop." He half sighed and hissed, "Just stop. Don't mention this. Ever. In fact, forget that I was here."

Your breath hitched and your brows puckered, your body became rigid with his stinging words, but there was little to do when he crossed the portal, leaving you alone in the quietness of your living room.

----

"Lyla" You mumbled after the umpteenth time with no avail. Miguel didn't reply to the several hundreds of texts you put into his inbox, you had even considered putting yourself in danger just to see him again, but that would probably just make it worse. Confused as you were, you were also hurt for the simple implication he didn't trust you enough to be open about whatever thing he was into.

"C'mon! Just answer me, I know you're there!"

"Nothing personal, but Miguel said to not talk or engage with you, so talk to the hand." Lyla rested in the air as she put her hands behind her back, relaxing into nothing.

"He... He what? God, I swear he's having an earful. It was an accident! I was massaging his scalp like I always do! Then he... He called me Mistress. Like... It wasn't even intentional!"

"He's not comfortable sharing that sort of information with anyone-"

"I'm his best friend for fuck's sake. He has seen and heard way much worse of me, and now he's all shy of me just cause I found out he's a pillow biter?"

That earned you a giggle from her and you sighed, frustrated, it had been weeks of pure silence, anxiety, and stress on both ends. He dodged every call, didn't reply to texts, and certainly was letting your voice emails pile up in the voicemail trashbin, if he didn't delete them right away.

Your mouth sighed, again as you sunk into the couch, bracing your knees closely. "I'm sorry, Ok? I just... miss him."

"He misses you too, just give him time. He has been busy at the moment." Her hand rolled, gesturing as she spoke

"Help me out? Please? I.. I need to apologize if I've made him uncomfortable. I'd never do something to harm him. He knows that."

"Both are being dramatic" She mumbled with her eyes rolling, "But let me see what I can do."

With that, the little AI left, and you could only hope she talked some sense in that bullhead of a hero you had for a friend.

It wasn't around one am that the brightness of the portal, blinded your sight for a moment, jerking you awake from the couch you had slept, on and startling you with a familiar presence. None other than Miguel stood near the window.

"Hey." you croaked, rubbing your eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know. Look-" he tried his words in his mind first, "Lyla told me what you said-"

"You really think I'mma judge you? Don't you?"

The hero shook his head and rested his hands on his narrow hips.

"Miguel, you out of everyone, and I mean it, EVERYONE, knows shit that probably wipe me out of the dating scene forever. It took me by surprise, and I should've reacted better, but it pains me that you think I'll do something like that."

"It's not that."

"Then, tell me! We've known each other since high school, there is no secret we don't know from each other." Your arms crossed, waiting for him to speak.

His eyes darted between you and the floor as his cheeks turned that lovely and subtle shade of burgundy.

"It helps to cope."

"And there's nothing wrong-"

"I know." He threw his head back, defeated, "Look, I just like it. But, I became Spiderman and that's it. No more of it."

"Do...you miss it?" You probed, hoping to not strike a cord.

He scoffed but shrugged. "I miss the sense of zero responsibility I got with it." He chewed the inside of his cheek briefly, "It... It was my own way to ease my mind, everything."

"Are you still into it?" You stepped closer and his head snapped your way, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"I don't have the time for it-"

"I didn't ask if you had time for it. I asked if you were still into it."

The authoritative and commanding tinge of your voice sent a familiar yet delicious crawl down his spine, his pupils widened slightly.

"Yeah, just don't have someone to-."

"I don't know the sort of dynamic you had before, but... I know a thing or two about it." You walked towards your room, and he followed, alarmed you were a bit too into the idea and missing in your closet. "Get me that black box down, please."

He stepped in and stretched his hand to fetch the hefty box for you.

"Got a couple of unconventional jobs, and trust me, I've seen a bit of everything" You opened the box, revealing a good assortment of packed and brand new toys within their case and he gulped, his bushy brows nearly shot heavenward upon looking at your loot, "Got this when the place closed." You shrugged. "And maybe, I don't know, we could use it."

The box had a couple of magnetic handcuffs, a magic wand with a rotary head, a couple of dragon dildos that glowed in the dark, an adjustable strap-on, a quirky glove with a different texture on each finger, gag balls, a lovely yet sturdy flog, a dice with different positions engraved into it, a liter of lube, several packages of ropes, rings for them, butt plugs in every size he could think of. A couple of fleshlights, vibrating cock rings, paddles, restrainers, and other accessories you couldn't properly name at the moment.

"I learned a lot through the clients that came over the shop, was a... very didactic experience." You smiled.

"So you're familiar with, you know-"

"The lifestyle? Yeah. Though at the beginning I wasn't. But the more I sold, and more people came, I ended up learning anyway. So hope that helps."

He blinked, stupidly. "You're liking this too much."

"You'll like it even more when we reinforce our friendship with these babies."

His eyes raked over a couple of toys he knew his use by heart, "I'm not into the lifestyle itself. Just like things from it."

"Same, all that vetting, contract, and eventual collaring gig isn't for me. It's a mindset I'm not ready for. But let's get to business. What do you like?"

His brain immediately became overridden with different things he liked but didn't go past his mouth, his eyes darted away.

"Or..." Your hands caressed the back of his lower back, and he gulped, trying with all his might to not jump from his skin, "You want me to find out on my own?"

The batting of your eyelashes had his lips pursed in a thin line, his cheeks couldn't get any redder, with a final intense gaze your way, he sighed, surrendering and blurring the friendship line with you forever.

Miguel removed his gizmo and put it on one of your nightstands, facing you with a scrutinizing glare.

"If I tell you to stop-"

"I'll stop." You nodded a bit too enthusiastically with a grin, "But you gotta let your embarrassment go. Or else you won't enjoy it."

"Ya, ya sé. Just-" He looked away, hand rubbing the back of his neck, for a moment he forgot how blunt you were. (I know, I know)

"See this as a national service" Your fingers thrummed through the skin of his abs, letting his warmth lick your fingers, "I'm helping the man behind the mask, the real hero and my best friend, to feel good."

Your words sent another delicious crawl on his back, the hairs in his body stood with goosebumps. His nipples hardened when your fingers ghosted over them, then they slid upwards, snaking up the same spot you tugged before, and pulled his head your way, your lips brushed the shell of his ear.

"Suit off."

It took a moment for his holographic suit to vanish, revealing more of his skin, yet the hesitation remained around his groin, but with a brave sigh, it also vanished. Leaving his cock at your sight, eyes widened at what lay between his well-sculpted legs.

Well, shit.

Your tongue flicked the outer of his earlobe. Despite the apparent confidence in your voice, your heart thumped with such force you knew Miguel could feel it. But it wasn't every day this absolute unit of a man, allowed you to experiment on his body. And it was time to prove your knowledge effective.

Your hand tightened a bit more, clashing softly your forehead against his, redirecting his eyes to yours. The spark in his red eyes sent a playful jolt to your clit. The confidence, the power you had on your hands, and the silent yet pleading look he gave were enough to switch something within your psyche.

"Wanna feel good, O'Hara?"

More than anything.

He nodded and you chuckled

"You gotta use your words if we're doing this, Miguel. Do you want me to make you feel good?"

"... Yes." He breathed, like finally admitting his sins, dumping all the weight he often carried in your trustworthy hands.

Your hand never left his hair, and you used that to lead him to the bed, naturally, he kneeled in the middle. You took a pair of the magnetic cuffs, they came alive with a soft whir while they circled his wrists. Your hands guided his restrained ones behind his head and pushed back as the hoops adhered to the metallic bedframe, sending an inviting jiggle through his body.

A soft sigh escaped his lips and you couldn't help but smirk with pride. His body, leaning towards the bed frame, in a diagonal of muscles and twitching skin. Like a blank canvas waiting for you to paint pleasure all over him, surrendering to your artistic techniques.

"You're enjoying this too much." He breathed with a lax smile while you separated his thighs

"I don't recall allowing you to speak, Miguel."

Your heart shimmied when his eyes glinted with underlying excitement. The smile erased from his face, following you along. His Adam's apple bobbed when your mouth came closer to his chest, leaving soft and butterfly kisses down his valley, his breathing pattern dictated which action and place you caressed, had him going.

A groan erupted from him when your tongue circled one of his nipples, then another when you sucked it and twirled the other with your hands.

"Fuck" He grumbled with deep breaths and shuddered when your hand grabbed him by the hardening girth of his base and caressed on top of his hefty balls, squeezing them ever lightly, making his chest rise erratically.

"Look at that," Your hand circled around him and stroked a couple of times in slow motion with enough pressure to have him completely hardened.

Good. You were going in the right direction.

Velvet-like skin twitched under your teasing fingers the more they remained in his broad tip."You have a pretty cock, Miguel."

He chuckled breathlessly, with his cheek burning, "God, shut up."

"Why? You're pretty like this. All restrained and being good for me." You nodded while biting your bottom lip, "Don't worry, I've got you."

Praising always made him react a certain way, as you always managed to get him flustered whenever you complimented him in your school days. How could you have missed this?

"So fucking pretty." You mumbled as your hand rummaged through the box and pulled a small pair of nipple clamps.

His eyes devoured the small contraptions as you pressed one open, hovering it over his left nipple, your tongue still flickered the other.

When the clamp made pressure around his neglected nub, he whimpered, raising his chest with each breathing, teasing himself in the process as the clamp pulled whenever he exhaled.

"Wanna use the other?" Your tongue circled his areola before giving him a graze of your teeth and a chance to reply.

"Fuck!" he groaned and his cock twitched.

You wasted time and put the other clamp, but you made sure to pull the device a bit, watching his skin stretch in whatever direction you moved it, warning you a breathless and shaky whimper.

"So sensitive." You crooned. With his chest busy, your hand moved to the veiny base of his cock and delivered a long and painfully slow stroke, his hips stuttered and his head hung back.

Your mouth couldn't help but water upon seeing the irregular slope of his neck stretched in its full glory, his Adam's apple bobbed every time he tried to swallow, and a tender flush spread through his neck, reaching the top of his erratic breathing chest. And his cock...

Jesus

His cock felt like wonders in your hand. Warm, velvety, pulsing, that rewarded your ministrations with soft twitches and a wet slick sound the more you played and stroked his tip open. A fat bead of his pre-cum gathered on the tiny slit.

Never in your wildest dreams you could imagine your best friend, the grump of a man you've grown with, so compliant to these sorts of whims and experimentations. The sheer knowledge of you having this much power over him was deliciously maddening. Your hands stroked faster and his eyes rolled back.

"Hngh-" He hiccuped and bit his bottom lip as his breathing nearly matched your strokes. "Fuck, Dios mio... Ay Dios mio, Pulguita..." he choked with a grunt as you squeezed his balls again.

His hips pushed against your hand, groaning at the feeling of your fingers around him as he pushed into your hand, but you stopped and a frustrated whine rumbled in the back of his throat.

"C'mon!" His jaw clenched

"Patience, patience." Smirking, you rummaged once more through the box, taking the flog, the liter of lube, and the quirky glove along one of the vibrating cock ring. "Can't take you too far too soon. I want you to enjoy it."

By the way he had reacted, you assumed you were either doing a good job, or stress had been too unforgiving on him and this granted him a much-needed break from its constant assail.

"I was..." He heaved, "Until you stopped!" He hissed through clenched teeth and your brow quirked.

"Oh? Is that so?" The smirk that donned your lips sent a shiver down his spine. "Remember what you used to tell me? To earn it whenever I wanted something?." Your hands reached for the flog and gathered its loose leathery strands in your hand.

"You'll have to earn it, Miguel."

You swung the flog in a circular motion, the strands grazed his cock in gentle whips each time they made a descent; earning a symphony of whines and gasps as the precum bead rolled down his frenulum, and you seized the chance to smear a good amount of lube on his cock.

The coolness of the viscous liquid, had his hips shrieking with delight. If one thing you've learned about the clients you got, was that most always swore by sensorial play, texture especially.

The gentle flogging stopped, and you took the silicone cock ring, sliding it to the base. When you turned the device on, you had to bite your lips to prevent a moan as his eyes rolled back for a second. Your name flowing out of him in such a debauched tone, sent a painful throb on your clit. He gasped and moaned it, despite the numbness going through his restrained arms.

But you were set on breaking him. You were the one that used to beg him for stuff. Tutoring you, helping you with a class, you name it. It was time for a scrumptious vendetta.

You increased the vibrations while taking the fleshlight, the mouth-shaped toy swallowed him whole, and he folded with a whimper you hadn't heard before as his eyes squeezed shut.

"Mierda!" He shook his head, trying to keep himself focused. The sight of the silicone mouth stretched around him, had him pushing his hips forward. The sloshing sounds coming from it, only had him sputtering nonsensical babbles, the way the toy swallowed him while the furious buzzing from the ring had thin lines of saliva escaping from the corner of his mouth, his hazed brain, unable to discern between a toy and the sudden illusion of you devouring him.

It was too good, he was almost there, almost getting his reward. He had been a good friend, right? He had always been good and it was more than enough to get his much and so needed reward. His body almost tasted the sweet, sweet release. But you stopped. The vibrations stopped, and so did your movements on the fleshlight.

"No! No!" He sobbed, urging his hips forward, trying to get a last thrust inside the toy. "Por favor, put it back! I was so close!"

"Uh? What did you just say?" You hovered the fleshlight above his tip

"Please, " He heaved your name, urging his hips forward, his throbbing and pained tip spurted another bead of pre cum when the silicone lips grazed him, "I'm so close, I swear just..." He sputtered. "Let me cum."

The rush of adrenaline couldn't be compared to the sudden need to see him begging. It was too beautiful to not witness.

"What? I didn't hear you." Your head leaned closer to his lips

"Please, let me fucking cum." He begged.

"Might think about it." You mumbled as you reached for the glove. Each finger had a different texture attached. The thumb was full of small dots, The index finger, with a wavy fingerprint pattern, the middle and ring had soft spikes and the pinky had a small cock tip. You squeezed some lube into the glove, smearing it on the middle and ring finger.

"Hija de la chingada" He grunted as you pulled one of the clamps, adding dry bones to his already scorching heat. (Bitch)

"Call me whatever you want but as far as I'm concerned, your o-time depends on me. So you better be nice and fucking behave." You slapped his already sensitive cock, earning another whimper from him. "Besides, has anyone told you how handsome you look when you beg?"

You pushed him back, tumbling over the bed frame, and spread his thighs, your hands maneuvered and accommodated his hips open, revealing the occasionally throbbing ring of muscles.

"And if it wasn't obvious, of course, I'm having my revenge for you pulling the dead prank on me."

With a gentle squeeze, you put a big dollop of lube between his glutes, and turned the ring on again, this time in softer buzzes.

"You're... Mierda, Pulguita, I swear when I..." He gulped, but his threat never came, his eyes had shut off, as your middle finger teased with circular motions his butthole.

"When you what?" Your free hand cupped his balls and massaged softly, then moved once more to the base, stroking gently and steadily. "You can't even threaten me properly, Miguelito."

His body arched, slowly, as his inner walls received the tip of your finger, clamping around the gentle wriggling digit. His head lolled to the sides, gasping and panting for air. His mind didn't know whether to focus on his cock, or his butt getting open. A firm but gentle slap on his face got him focusing on your disappearing finger.

"Don't lose it yet, Spiderman. You owe me."

"P-Por favor" His breath turned quicker, a fine layer of sweat covered his body, "I'm... I'm sorry I was gone I-"

He choked when you added the ring finger, carefully wriggling inside him, stretching him another bit, the silicone spikes of the glove had his jaw fell open when you pressed nearby a certain spot that would have him speaking alien if possible.

"You were so mean, Miguel. I thought you were dead." His warm insides constricted and pulsed around you the more you moved your fingers back and fro, as your left hand kept stroking him. Lube and pre cum helped his cock to slide faster on your hands. You couldn't help but gasp when his hips pressed forward, swallowing another bit of your fingers.

"Nuh-uh." You pulled your fingers out slowly and he whined.

"I'll be good! I... I promise. I'll make things different" the hero babbled, "Voy a... ser mejor. I promise." (I’ll be better)

"Promise?" Your forehead clashed against yours as he nodded, desperately.

"Promise." He gasped, "Just, please, let me cum, I can't... I fucking can't, I need to-"

He sobbed when you pressed your fingers in and out softly, his hips moved to meet them, pushing them deeper inside of him, the soft spikes massaging in all the right places. Your other hand focused on his tip after setting the vibrations to the max.

"Just like that, please, just like hnng- Fuck-" He nodded completely lost in the increasing thrusts and wriggling motions of your fingers as if they coaxed and guided that bliss exactly where he needed it. "Yes, Yes, YES-"

Your forehead pressed against his, "Cum for me, Miguel."

A guttural and agonizing cry tore the heated atmosphere when you pressed against that nub over and over. The stars danced in his eyes but they rolled back when thick, creamy ropes of his cum erupted upwards, staining his torso and thighs, and he panted, like a dying creature between shaky whimpers when you pushed his sweet spot again.

His toes curled, like his hands behind his back.

"F-Fuck, fuck, Oh god-"

Tears gathered on the corner of his red eyes, blurring his sight as he came in your hand. His cum dribbled and dripped around your wrist, and his head ended up curled in the crook of his neck, allowing his hot and jagged breath to fan your skin. And you kneeled to let his limp body fall on top of yours as you removed the texturized glove when the cuffs released him with a clank.

"Hey, hey... I got you." You grabbed a sheet and wiped your hand to correctly prop him against the headboard gently with a giggle “My goodness, you’re so messy."

His eyes crinkled open with a satisfied chuckle, the world still spun around him, but your voice anchored him. With the little strength gained back into his limbs, he pulled you to him, his sweaty forehead against yours.

"Are you okay?" Your finger slicked back one of his rebellious locks and he chuckled.

"Never been better, Preciosa." he croaked, throat still raw from the noises you pulled from him.

A fulfilled grin plastered on your face and his thumb caressed your cheekbone.

"I rather mistress, but that works too. Again?"

A brief and genuinely amused laugh rumbled in his chest.

"Again, yeah, just not right now."

"So are you in?"

"Yeah."

You squeezed his chin softly and he smirked.

"Yeah, what?"

"Yes, Mistress."

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