#mafia boss miguel

[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 including blowjob (f receiving), penetration (p in v).

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     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 room. 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, the 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, taking 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 a deep breath, 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 herself 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 out his hand to her silently. 

     “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’d 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. 

     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. And 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. 

     “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. She hunched over, 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. Dios, he might just fall in love with her if she kept it up. “I’m here because your husband has some information I need.” 

     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 sand-coloured 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. But then she froze. 

     “Cariño,” Miguel called out to her lazily. “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,” 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?” 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, grinning 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 soft 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!” he shouted. (You dirty scoundrel!) 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 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 how, exactly, 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.” She 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. 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 onto his shoulders tightly, her body beginning 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, sucking and 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 to him, 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, his pleased moans sinking into her skin and vibrating along her nerves, adding onto her pleasure. 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 (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, 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.

[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

[iminloveweveryone]

Miguel O’hara

mafia au fic, NOT proofread 🌚, no SA but implications of it almost happening.

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Your working in a run down old diner, somewhere on the corner of pine street. the smell of stale coffee and cooking oil fills the air.

this is not where you’d expected to end up, all though you didn’t mind it. The pay was..okay and atleast you got free food every shift, so it’s whatever.

the bell attached to the door rings as someone new enters the diner, their heavy footsteps clanking on the old floor as they move closer.

You look up to a man, obviously taller then most, his hair is messy and a bored expression plays on his face.

he sits down in front of you, letting his calloused hands rest on the counter as he does so. You eyes trail over the surface before slowly looking up to him.

“what can i get you sir?” you ask with a small cheery smile hovering on your face. “Coffee, one milk and no sugar.” he says in a rich tone, making you wonder if he always sounds like that. You nod slowly and turn around to prepare the bland drink, before placing it down in front of him.

“anything else?” you ask with a small smile before he shakes his head. “It’s not safe for you to be working alone this late.” he points out “I know, i know.” you nod along with a sheepish smile “but my manger doesn’t seem to agree.” you shrug.

he only huffs in response, you start to move away when a sudden loud noise rings through the air, immediately catching your attention as you turn toward the noise.

“don’t worry, it’s under control.” he says plainly, taking a sip of his freshly poured coffee before standing up with a sigh. “you just sit here pretty while i go clear some things up out there, yeah?” he opens his wallet, taking a 20 out and placing it on the counter in front of me. “thanks for the coffee.” he grumbles as you stand there with a nervous expression, as he walks away.

the little bell rings once again as the door is opened and shut. slowly, you make your way over to the door, peering out only to see him gone. and whoever made the loud shorting noises no where to be found either.

that was three nights ago, and you haven’t seen the suspicious man since. And honestly you were a bit thankful, danger wasn’t something you had wanted to find yourself involved in.

walking down the cold and empty street, your heels clicking on the concrete sidewalk as you made your way home from your late night shift.

every rustle in the bushes, or gust of wind knocking abandoned objects over only making you more paranoid as this wasn’t exactly the safest part of town.

Your legs move quicker as you try to escape the cold night, wanting nothing more to be home right now. Your thoughts distract you as you suddenly bump into someone.

your stunned for a moment, obviously not expecting the interaction before you fall into profusely apologizing.

“An honest mistake, i’m really sorry.” you mumble before looking up to the man..The Man who seems all too familiar.

“That’s alright.” he mumbles, looking down at you with a cold face. You stare at him, trying to remember who he was. “wait..oh, you came into the diner a few nights ago” you say with a intrigued expression painted on your face. “Did you ever find out what all that noise outside was?” you ask curiously.

“oh.” he pauses to think as he brushes a hand through his neat hair. “Nothing, just a small misunderstanding between some friends of mine.” he shrugs non chalantly, causing you to nod slowly, still a bit suspicious of the whole situation.

“It’s not safe to be out this late, thought I told you that” he mumbles digging through his pocket before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and taking one out.

he lights it and you just shift your weight, trying to figure out an answer to his statement. “Needa’ have a chat with your boss?” he asks, inhaling deeply.

you quickly shake your head. “No, it’s just uhm we’re short on employees right now. i just have to close up alone for a little while.” you shrug.

he lets out a low hum in response, always seeming a bit uninterested in whatever the topic was. “so..what about you?” you ask politely. “what are you doing here so late?” you blink curiously.

he lets the cigarette rest in his hands as he turns to face you, his strong face almost entrancing you. “some business.” he looks down, his eyes dragging over your figure slowly. “Just tying a few loose ends up, that’s all sweetheart.” he grumbles as faint yelling can be heard inside the building.

you finally take notice of the surroundings, a few expensive looking black cars parked out front of the building.

The shouting grew louder, followed by a loud shot. something that didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. You turn to look at him, wide eyed and worried, he only stared back coldly.

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?” he says with a chuckle, putting his cigarette out on the ground. “You heard nothin’ doll.”he stands up to his full height as two other men walk out of the building, one with a small cut across his face.

he looks up to the sky, studying the dark atmosphere. “You needa’ ride home? it’s late.” he asks looking back down to you.

you chew on your lip, not sure about getting in a car with a with someone you’d just met. “come on cariño, don’t wanna leave you alone out here in the dark.” he says in a sincere tone.

you let out a quiet hum in thought. “Okay, thank you” you mumble as he starts walking towards the vehicle.

you open the door and sit down, shutting it firmly and reaching for the seatbelt. “Where you goin’ too?” he asks, turning to face you.

you tell him the address to your apartment and the car engine roars to life, driving down the empty and dark road.

the radio plays mindlessly in the background as you look out the window. “How come you’re still workin in that shit hole?” he breaks the silence “Coffees less then decent and it’s dangerous for you to be around there at night.”

you sigh a little. “Not sure where else i would work, i don’t have much of an option.” You look over to him, his dark eyes staring down the road and his rough hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel.

he turns a corner and your apartment building comes into view, the front entrance dimly lit by the lamp posts.

he parks out front, turning the engine off and looking over at you. “let me give you a ride from now on, i’m in the area anyway.” he gives you a stern look “And i have no problem doin’ something extra to keep a sweet thing like you safe.” he grins at you.

you wet your lips, trying to think. Sure it would be great to not walk home in this dangerous area at night..but yet again-

“Don’t think about it too much, darlin” he pulls you away from your thoughts. “i’ll go by your work round’ 10, you can decide then.” he shrugs .

“okay?” he asks “okay.” you nod slowly before grabbing hold of your purse again and turning to open the car door. “thank you for the ride..” you trail off, realizing you don’t actually know his name.

“Miguel.” he finishes for you. “Y/N” you say with a sheepish smile before exiting the car and closing the door gently.

you walk into the lobby of your apartment, peering out the window as the car slowly drives away, And then he’s gone.

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The night passes quickly and you find yourself back at work, struggling to drag the trash outside. you let out a groan of annoyance.

“Need some help muñecita?” he chuckles, almost scaring the life out of you. “God! you scared me” you say dropping the bag on the ground harshly.

he hums and walks forward to pick the bag up out of your hand, swinging it into the trash bin with ease.

“your shift over?” he asks and you only nod, following him as he walks back towards the door of the diner.

you lock up the diner and stand out front of the building with him. “you want that ride yet?” he asks looking toward you.

you glance down at your shoes and back up to him. “yes please.” you mumble, following him to the car.

once again the engine roars to life, driving along the road. “hope you don’t mind, gotta stop by work.” he sighs “No, i don’t mind at all” you say politely as he nods.

You reach the large brick building and he motions for you to follow him inside. you walk along side him, into the luxurious building, your heels clicking on the marble floors.

he leads you to a sort of waiting room and assures you he’ll only be a moment before taking off.

a minute or so passes by before a man walks in, he’s short and round, with a grouchy look on his face.

a whistle escapes his mouth as he looks over to you, looking you up and down in a gross manner.

he takes short strides over to you, making you lean further back in the chair. you look around the quiet room nervously.

“what ya’ doin here, sugar?” he asks stroking his chin. “waiting for a friend.” you reply in a monotone voice.

“think i can keep ya’ company?” he chuckles, licking his lips. “no, that’s okay. i wouldn’t want to trouble you.” which only seems to earn another laugh from him.

“trust me sugar, it’d be no trouble.” he grumbles on. “it’s okay, really.” you try to tell him but he only seems to move closer, his hand now on your arm.

suddenly heavy footsteps can be heard approaching, before miguel walks in. A cold look covers his face, but it only seems to become sharper as he sees the man near you.

the man turns around, also hearing the footsteps and immediately backing off when he saw who it was.

“Boss! Was just..” he rambles nervously as he backs up. “get out.” Miguel warns and he quickly leaves the room.

Miguel’s face softens he turns to look at you, all worried and fidgeting with your hands. he walks up to you, a sorry expression on his face.

“you okay sweetheart? did he hurt you?” he asks, his gaze analyzing you. “i’m fine..” you mumble, quickly standing up.

“m’sorry muñecita, i’ll deal with him tomorrow.” he nods “promise.”

the two of you make your way to his car, he opens the door for you before getting in his side and turning the keys.

you lay your head on the seat tiredly, shifting in the seat to get comfortable, and out of the corner of your eye you see his grip tighten on the wheel.

you must have fallen asleep because you feel someone gently tapping on your shoulder, waking you up just enough to talk.

“we’re here” he mumbles softly. You let out a quiet hum, barely a response. you feel him unbuckling the seat belt and you instinctively latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he lets out a quiet groan into your neck. “come on then” he chuckles, picking you up swiftly. you wrap your legs around him and he walks to the elevator.

you tell him your apartment number as he clicks the button and the doors shut. You shift in his arms slightly, trying to get more comfortable, which earns a groan from him.

“Gotta stop moving like that..” he grumbles in your ear, waking you up a lot.

the doors open to your floor and he steps out of the box, walking down the quiet hallway. he stops at your door and lowers you down to the floor, causing you to let out a dissatisfied whine to which he only chuckles.

you dig through your purse for the keys to your house, pulling them out and unlocking the door.

you turn around to face him, a tired pout on your face as you look up at his chiseled face.

he stares back down at you, a smug look covering his features. “you need to get to sleep sweetheart.” he says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and leaning down toward you.

your eyes scan over his face. “mhm..” you hum out quietly, biting your lips slightly. “mhm.” he mimics you, his face creeping down to your neck as he places a soft kiss.

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rahhh anyway lemme know how you feel about this freaks AND if i should do a part two or wtv 😋

[bbqhooligan]

oh yall are Not normal about Miles im about to take him away i swear to god i swear to fuckin god

[tarjapearce]

El Diablo Wears Prada

Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Cucking, Forced Voyeurism, A bit of Dark Miguel, Dom! Miguel, P in V, Oral (F receiving) Face sitting, manhandling, mild knife play, criminal undertones, Implied mild exhibitionism, emotional distress, mentions of cheating, Dubious morals, implicit non-con oral at the end (M receiving). No proofread.

Summary: Tired of warnings and dialogues with your stubborn and corrupt husband, The Devil shows up at your home.

A/N: Had to get it out of me. jsksj. Finally. Enjoy (?) ❤️✨.

Pt. 2

From the many times people tried to persuade you from marrying your current husband, none of them were successful.

Massimo Bianchi. An important lawyer that had swooped you off your feet with his smile and Italian charisma.

People often told you that he wasn't good. None had to be a genius to know the man was in shady business as his main job was to defend the top dogs of  corporate world. He didn't have to mingle with underworld criminals to know how they worked cause he was one.

Corrupt lawyer that always came out successful in his cases. But you remained on the shadows, blissfully ignorant of your husband's doings to the world. All you knew was that he was the head of his firm and that alone earned him a good chunk of money.

You thought him good, though your marriage had been cold for the last few years. Even though he spoiled you with things, you didn't want materialistic rewards. You wanted him.

A true fool. Your friends called you. Sometimes you truly wondered if it

was love or just that attachment that had grown over time? The kind that makes one so used to a person that their absence feels odd yet expected? You didn't know nor cared. As long as he kept coming home at night, things would be right. Everything would be fine and the fake illusion of a perfect marriage would keep playing in the background.

And it was. Until death threats kept coming into your mail. All of them saying the same.

Stay away.

Confrontations weren't really your thing, but the tension had turned so dense that arguments were the main course of everyday. Massimo refused to spill the beans as dread only kept growing inside your already rattled mind. Just like the death threats. All of them signed by El Diablo.

"Amore, he is none. Just a petty criminal that is pissed I'm locking up his associates."

Lies, lies and more lies.

A petty criminal wouldn't put you on edge, wouldn't make you feel watched. Cause in truth, wherever you went the feeling of being observed remained etched in every step you took.

"That's exactly what they want you to believe, cara mía. That's a tactic for scum like them to scare decent people like us."

You didn't pressed any further, rather save your breath. He was as closed as an hermetic safe box.

-----

To relax your nerves you decided to go shopping, and returned home with an idea that you were certain would rekindle the cold flame in your marriage. Massimo seemed way too busy in his work to make an approach, and when you wanted to initiate things, he'd just push you away with the excuse that he was exhausted.

And you were tired of toys and your hand. So, you took a bath, lathered your body in rich and delicious smelling oils, and slipped into an emerald green silk and velvet lingerie set you just bought.

You hid it all underneath a skin tight black dress that enhanced your body shape. Hair done in a messy yet sultry look, a subtle fem fatale makeup with a gorgeous shade of burgundy lips.

The sound of your husband's car breaking violently snapped your attention at the front door. Massimo bursted out through the door and you smiled.

"Hey, darling!"

"Pack your shit. We're leaving."

You frowned in confusion at his sudden panicky and antsy state. But most importantly his tone. Urgent, demanding and scared.

"W-What? Where are-"

"There is no time for questions! Just do as I tell you! Now!"

He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the bedroom.

"Massimo, you're scarying me. What's going on?!"

Bianchi groaned as he threw you on the bed, nose flaring in anger at your reluctance.

"Non hai sentito, stupida stronza? Fai quello che ti dico, cazzo!" (Didn't you hear, dumb bitch? Do as I fucking tell you!)

Your teary eyes widened at him, frantic and fumbling with the suitcases. Filling them with papers and valuable objects. Not even clothes, just things you were sure he treasured more than your marriage.

"MOVE IT!" He roared and you blinked away your tears, scrambling out of his sight. He muttered things you didn't understand much as he shoved more papers inside. You grabbed the first suitcase you found and filled in with the necessary.

The sound of cars breaking and revving into the pebbled porch of your luxurious  home made Massimo to pull out a gun, you gasped and he ushered you to come closer. You kneeled next to him as he spoke in hushed whispers.

"No matter what happens, you remain silent okay?"

Your trembling hands clung to him as fear begun numbing your judgment. There was a collective round of car's doors slapping shut and footsteps that approached almost in scary synchronization.

"Go through the pool entrance, take this with you and leave. I'll see you in the other apartment"

"N-No, Massi-"

He kissed you, as he pushed a stack of documents further in your hands.

"No matter what, don't let them get this, ok?" His hushed whispers didn't help soothing your already fried nerves

"Massimo!"

"Go!"

He dispatched you with an angry growl, shaking legs scrambled once more ducking down the windows. You removed the heels as you crossed the manor, tears momentarily blurring your sight as you reached the pool. A shot in the air made you still, before you ran back inside.

A few shots and screaming voices followed you. The pained screams of your husband along some grunts made you whimper in fear. You hid behind the kitchen's large breakfast island as steps echoed ominously close. No matter in what direction you tried to go, the men, clad in black and red were there. Awaiting for their prey. Anything that moved.

The paper crumpled under your tight grip, and you covered your mouth, to remain as quiet as possible. Heavy steps retired from your area, and you exhaled in mild relief. Heart pumped hard with every passing beat, you snuck past the island to go back to the main entrance.

And just as you were about to taste freedom, the largest man you had ever seen, clad in a rich black suit and polished shoes, blocked your entrance with a stoic gaze that shifted into a shameless smirk upon seeing you.

Big, strong and long limbs trapped you against him as you cried and thrashed in a meek attempt to free yourself.

"Shh, shhh shh"

His nose nuzzled your neck and you stilled, tears rolled down your cheeks as he pointed a gun to your head. The cold metal against your temple made your breathings erratic.

"Tranquila, corazón. I'm not gonna hurt you." (Relax, sweetheart)

He dragged you to one of the many spare rooms in the house. A tall black woman with a frondous afro was finishing tying Massimo on the ground to then wipe away the blood caked in her brassed knuckles. 

His handsome face littered in bruises, a blooming dark eye on his left, a busted lip and his broken nose was all that remained after the bravado he often boasted up. Your heart couldn't help but sink in further at the sight.

You tried to go to his side, but the man only tightened his grip on you.

"Mr. Bianchi."

The man holding you spoke, to then aim his gun to him.

"S-Stop! Please!"

He kissed you deeply as his hands handcuffed your hands back. The kiss was so fast you barely had time to digest it, just like everything that was happening around you.

"You really need to shut your pretty mouth for a bit, cariño."

"Hei! Lasciala!" (Hey! Leave her)

A blonde man kneed him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of Massimo as he doubled in pain.

"Stop!" You squealed in between hiccups. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. The papers you were given were long gone from your hands.

The woman with the afro smirked upon reading them.

"We got it, Miguel."

Massimo gulped at the name. Miguel O'Hara, one of the major criminal Don's in the underworld, El Diablo himself had came to his home to collect his reaps.

"I tried to be a reasonable man with you, Mr. Bianchi, but given your stubborn nature to cooperate and pay what's rightfully mine, I must take drastic measures for you to understand that I don't like being lied to."

Miguel made a sign for everyone to leave.

"M-Massi? What... What is he talking about?"

"You lie to your lovely wife?" His face turned one of disgust and his large feet pushed Massimo's head on the ground, his swollen cheek flattening against the expensive Prada shoes adorning Miguel's feet.

You only looked away as your husband groaned in pain despite Miguel holding back from hurting him seriously.

" You see, cariño. Your doting husband right here, has been fucking around with my associates."

He removed the outer layer of his suit and carefully laid it on a nearby chair.

"People that have worked hard for what they have and have come to me in dire need of protection against this... greedy coward."

Your eyes snapped back to Massimo as he kept folded in pain, his eyes adverted from you.

"Bribing the judges, increasing taxes, charging extra fees to those who need him? And not enough, this cabrón tiene los huevos para pedir dinero en mi nombre." (This fucker has the guts to collect money in my name.)

His meaty mouth clicked in disapproval. 

"Is that true?"

He remained quiet, blood caking on his lips and chin.

"Massimo, look at me. Is that true?!"

"I'm really sorry you have to find out this way, preciosa. But don't you worry. I know he will pay."

Dread sunk in further at his words. If there was something you were so sure of, that if your life depended on it you wouldn't fear in risking it, is the little fact that your husband never really had the intention of paying debts.

A habit that stuck with him in your dating stage, something he never grew out of. And now the fatal consequences were only added in his karma balance.

"The hell I am!" Bianchi spat at his shoes, and Miguel, unbuttoned his shirt to then pull out a cigarette. He took a long drag. Cherry scent filled in your lungs as he blew the smoke in his direction.

"I'll put you behind bars, O'Hara!"

Miguel chuckled, showing his canines. One of the reasons of his nickname.

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed the ablaze end on your husband's forehead. A new groan of pain along a few Italian curses filled in the room.

You looked away, too scared and stunned to actually do something. What help could you possibly be? You were handcuffed, barefooted and emotionally all over the place. The many warnings about him finally weighing on your shoulders.

Your name was called between breathless and pained yelps, but you refused to acknowledge him.

"Let her go, please." You heard him, speak, but no words or pleas seemed to move Miguel. He just stared at Massimo with a bored expression as he crouched to meet his eyes.

"Hope you have told her that you cheated her with one of my favorite colleagues."

His words were the last stab you could handle, you broke in tears.

"I should kill you for that alone, but that would be too merciful of me."

Miguel stood up and prowled over you, his hands reached for your face and wiped away your tears carefully.

"I am a firm believer of 'An eye for an eye', Mr. Bianchi."

He removed the shirt, leaving his torso bare before you, eyes couldn't help but wander before retreating away, Miguel smirked.

"Are you?"

Massimo glared at him, heaving through the pain as he pulled a pocket knife and approached you.

"I'll have to make you a believer, then."

The sharp of the blade slid down your dress, enough to tear through the fabric covering your breasts. His lips pursed to give an appreciating whistle upon seeing your mounds clad in the velvety and silky texture of your lingerie.

" Con permiso, cariño." (Excuse me, darling)

Big hands took each a piece of fabric to tear the dress in half as you gasped and tried to scurry away from him. A hand grope your nape and you stilled.

One of his hands was big enough to pull you before your husband as the other one rested on the dip of your waist.

"Look at that. Por Dios... Was this a surprise for him?"

Upon your silence he squeezed your nape a bit tighter and you yelped.

"Y-Yes!"

"Too fucking bad he doesn't deserves it, right preciosa?"

"Don't you dare to touch her!"

Miguel nearly cackled at his measly threats. He took a couch and placed it before him. The coolness in the room made your skin crawl, but when he kissed your neck, an involuntary gasp left your lips.

"How long has been since this man touched you?"

His hands roamed your body, fingertips grazed your silky covered nipples as his other hand ghosted over your velvet clad pussy.

Another tiny whimper as he sat down on the couch, you were placed ontop of him, your thighs stretched, making to meet the width of his well sculpted ones, clad in fine wool. Hot and moist tongue caressed the upper part of your earlobe.

"M-Months"

You gulped and his touches stopped.

"You steal, you cheat and are a con man, yet you refuse to touch your wife? And me thinking I was the monster here."

He sat you in one of his thighs and pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed and incredulous look on his face.

"Lucky for you I'm in a good mood right now. Vamos a arreglar eso." (Let's fix that)

His hand cupped your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. Upon feeling his tongue invading your mouth, you recoiled but this only enticed him to snake his tongue around yours, sucking it and savoring you. The oils in your skin tickled his nose, a sweet and delicious scent that he'd often gift to his most prominent conquers.

But the way you had so dotingly prepared yourself for the cheating of a man you had for a husband, stirred something within him. You groaned as you demanded for air.

A thin dribble of his saliva connecting your mouths as hot pants fanned on eachother's lips.

He kneeled behind you and rolled your silk and velvet panties down your hips and knees. He tossed them away and bent you over, earning a yelp from you as your face was inches away from your alarmed husband.

"Don't" He shook his head and whispered. It came out like a silent plea that you ignored as Miguel sunk his face between your thighs from behind with a groan. Tongue teasing your mound, caressing softly at your clit.

You trembled and clenched your jaw to avoid moaning too loud. Shame spurted over your face in the shape of a bright red flush and a heavy feeling on your stomach. Big tanned thumbs spreaded your cheeks, to push himself deeper. His tongue lapped and teased; learning your skin's taste and texture that felt wonderful on his tongue and taste buds.

Wet and sloshing slurps made you pant and choke a moan as his hands grabbed your hips, exhorting them to use his handsome face as a seat. His tongue dribbled up and down your shivering and soaked flesh.

You groaned.

"Oh my god!" You mewled as you rode his face softly, "I-I'm so sorry!"

You spoke in between breathless pants as Miguel just moved your hips faster. Your mouth went slack and your needy breath fanned over your husband.

"Cara mía?" He'd whisper with pleading eyes but you were too enraptured in your brewing bliss. By instinct your hips seeked the movements of his tongue, chasing that relief only his mouth seemed to provide.

Legs quivered as they stood in their tip toes that curled in everytime he toyed with your clit. The smoothenes of his ministrations and the unceasing wet slurps he gave in your flesh, inched you closer and closer to the dangerous precipice of corruption and pleasure.

Another man was devouring you with such hunger you didn't think possible, as your lawful husband was forced to watch as you came right before him. It made your knees weak.

Eyes drooped before they clamped shut and your mouth hissed through panting and erratic breaths a needy Yes!

The guards outside the closed door were unfazed at Miguel’s antics. But the smirk on their faces were full of pride. El Diablo, their boss was someone people often had the misfortune of underestimate, until they were no longer laughing and rather plea for mercy or death, whichever came first.

Your hands behind your back slowly tingled as numbness spreaded upwards your arms.

Miguel separated himself and wiped his chin off your delicious slick and pulled the couch closer, he unzipped his pants and spreaded your thighs above his once more. Your chest heaved as you nested against his torso, fire licking your skin at the contact. The pocket knife was brought to your skin as he locked eyes with a disturbed yet aroused Massimo.

The tip of the sharp blades ran down up your torso, leaving a faint pink trail on it's wake, your breath hitching at the sensation until it reached the elastic lower band of your bra that held the cups together.

You didn't expected the quality elastic to give in so easily under the sharpness of a frail looking knife. Your breast spilled from the velvety green confinements and Miguel groaned while he hissed in delight at the sight.

He slapped your husband's face with a serious scowl

"Watch and learn how to treat a woman, cabrón."

Miguel fumbled with his pants and cotton briefs before releasing his aching and hard cock free. Bianchi adverted his eyes, embarrassed as defeat washed over him.

Miguel slapped the tip against your drenched folds, a cue for you to move your hips and smear more of your slick all over him before sinking in balls deep.

The intrusion felt delightful and painfully tight. Inner muscles clamped around him, making his head be thrown back, relishing not only at how hot and delicious you felt, but also at the feeling of your tightness trembling around him.

"Maldita sea preciosa, me estás matando". (Goddammit beautiful . You're killing me)

His hands hooked underneath the back of your knees, making you lean against him completely. Firm and cinnamon skin toned pecs supported your arching back.

Massimo couldn't help but peek under his disheveled hair and he nearly gasped at the sight. You were completely full and stretched at the size of his hefty cock. He could see your lower belly bulging a bit as his shaft rested within you. Bianchi was unable to look away, as emasculated as he felt.

A firm slap of his hips and it sent you curling your toes. Hips accommodated further in the single couch as his lips kissed your neck, canines grazing at your sensitive skin.

"So fucking tight f'me" He plunged you deeper, finally letting your walls meld to his size to then begin his slow thrusting. As much as he was dying to raw you silly, he had enough self control to be careful and not ruin you. That would come later.

It had been a long long time since he actually enjoyed having this kind of revenge. His eyes gave a quick glance to his beaten enemy and smirked in satisfaction when he noticed the bulge in between his imitation pants. Your hands fisted behind you, letting him to stretch you completely.

Your hips gave a soft rut, snapping his attention back to you, surprised you'd seek more of him.

His hands pushed your hips down onto him and your breast bounced. His eyes stalked yours, to assert his control, but you gave in so easily. Months of being untouched had made you a needy and sodden mess.

You were tired of your toys, and now that you had the real deal, it felt too good to let it slip. Things with your husband were surely done for anyways as fucked up as the situation was.

He'd probably be killed either way.

"Eyes on me, cariño" And just then, a sinful symphony of wet and merciless thrust fell upon you. Everytime he slid in made your pussy drool at his punishment. You cooed and stared at him with such a lovely and needy expression Miguel engraved in his mind.

Tears bit at the corner of your eyes as they drooped, taking your mind in this continuous trance of being torn between getting absolutely fucked out and coherent enough to give him a vocal reply like a moan or a praise and apologies to your voyeur.

"Cara mía, Don't do this to me" Bianchi shook his head in denial, but that only enticed Miguel to make it rougher.

Shy moans turned into shameless mewls and implorings that enticed him to ruin you at his contempt. The con man wished to cover his ears, but it was too delicious and forbidden to not indulge. Unavoidable too. Your pleas turned into lewd wailings and howlings. The tears and mascara long caked and dried on your cheeks.

Despite three years deep in marriage your husband would never care enough to leave you satisfied. It was everything about him, not really minding if you finished yourself by whatever means you found or thought right.

But this, this was pure torture. Sure, he didn't do anything to please you, but the thought of you being with another man always made him kick enough with the right amount of jealousy that would keep you satisfied for at least a couple of months while he kept ruining lives.

The slaps and Miguel's grunts turned desperate.

"Just like that! Yes!" You sobbed as his sac slapped against your clit, serving a good amount of punishment to your sensitive nub of nerves.

Your skin shook, breast bounced as you squirmed and twitched in absolute enjoyment.

"Like that, princesa?"

You nodded in between blown breaths, the pressure coiled tightly in the pit of your stomach. Menacing to snap at any second.

The sex and his Oud Wood by Tom Ford undertoned sweat made a puddle of your mind. Mouth gaped and shallow breaths came clenching through gritted teeth but he stopped just when you were about to greet God to release your hands from the back.

He pushed you on the floor on all your trembling fours, wool pants discarded completely, just as his CK briefs. Everything of him exuded with luxury. Even his rutting felt like an exotic meal you've tasted for the first time and you'd never go back to settle for anything less delicious and mind blowing than this.

But poor Massimo Bianchi was a reminder of your golden band that was wrapped around your ring finger.

Miguel's hand held tightly around the base of your neck, both hands melded at the size of your frail joint. both his feet planted on each side of you, caging you between his hips, and he sheathed once more in your already puffed and beaten pussy, making you yelp at the fullness and depth.

"Miguel!" You cried as your hands held on your husband's crossed legs. Your body lurched forward, meeting his cock in a merciless pace it had you bubbling like a total fool.

"I'm... Im sorry" A choked whimper, "Oh god, I'm so sorry Massi" Your mouth mumbled before Miguel squeezed your neck to keep you from apologizing to him, choking words in your gaping mouth.

He didn't deserve your regret, he deserved nothing. He wouldn't give him that much satisfaction.

"But it feels so good!"

You rasped and Miguel smiled darkly.

"Why don't you give him a farewell kiss, cariño?"

You shook your head and he frowned.

"No? Should I stop then?"

A whimper. Eyes twinkled in amusement as you reached for your husband and forced a kiss on him while El Diablo plowed remorselessly into you.

Bianchi could only whimper in pain as you bit his busted lip and kissed him, with a rough motion Miguel pulled you away from him. Your head far too gone into a place only he could reach. His panting and mumblings had turned borderline animalistic. He had praised you through it all and you were more than willing to comply.

Your body went taut, spent walls milked and creamed him as he cradled you against his torso. Body convulsed in bliss as he spilled his hot, sticky and big load inside your spasming walls. He laughed at your husband and at your dumb-bitch gone look.

He gave you a deep smooch before laying you on the couch. He slicked his hair back and caught his breath for a couple of minutes to then put on back his boxers. His eyes darted to an expectant Massimo.

Eyes wide. Still deciding between feeling horrified and happy for having such a twisted fantasy come true. A sick fuck through and through.

"I expect my payment within a month. More than enough time for you to collect what you owe me, Max."

Miguel purposely butchered his name as he threw his thousand dollars shirt you way.

"Put that on. We're taking a ride."

----

His men had escorted you back to his car. An armored black Bulletproof Lincoln Navigator SUV. House slippers was the only thing he had allowed you to get on your feet. The cold seemed to not affect his naked torso as he waltzed out your now wrecked home.

The cologne in his shirt stronger, as it covered your naked body from prying eyes.

"Get inside"

"N-No"

Miguel's nostrils flared in anger, despite the dazing and scrumptious raw fucking he put you through some moments ago, you knew he was a dangerous man.

"Why wouldn't you just-"

"-Ta madre, que entres al puto carro, mujer!" (Fucking shit, get into the fucking car, woman!)

His booming voice made you still with a frown. His temper switching surely made you confused. Tears welled up in your eyes, and seeing the sluggishness you took to get in, made him drag you inside himself, and sat beside you and sighed.

His sour mood was thanks to one of his men, Peter. He had the most awful timing to deliver news. One of his younger recruits had been shot. Not fatally shot, but surely would cost him a great chunk of money. Bribing judges to prevent him from sending him to prison, and medics through thirds would take some resources he was planning to use in another mission.

Miles G. Morales.

The name made his patience even shorter, and it didn't helped you were sniffling as your hands rubbed your ring despite the sore wrists.

After all he did to you you still thought about that cheating cuck?

No. He wouldn't allow it. Not when he has already found a perfect use for you.

As the ride begun he pulled up the middle window, blocking his sight from Ben as he drove. He made a couple of calls, you were recoiling away from him at every chance he tried to wipe your tears. Reject was something he was used to, that didn't mean it set right in his heart. And it showed as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock once more.

The calls ended and he tossed the phone back to the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out his gun to rest it on your temple.

Your eyes widened as he spoke.

"Clean it."

Fear clung to you as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. But your mouth beat you to voice your true desires.

"No."

His brow quirked and smiled darkly once more. He grabbed your hair and pulled you down on your knees before him. Legs still recovered from the previous cucking session, not that he cared anyways. The SUV cabin was spacious enough for him to pull the stunt.

"Funny you think you have a saying, cariño. Now be a good girl and clean my fucking cock. You made a mess out it."

The gun was pressed further, the click of his safety removal made you gulp.

Was this the life that you'd get from now on? It couldn't be. Part of your brain refused to acknowledge him as your owner, but the other part was terrified and intrigued to see how all of this would unfold for you. You won't make things easy for him as he was already making it a living hell for you.

You mouth begun to work him as he pulled another cigarette and blew the smoke in your direction.

The Devil seemed pleased. For now.

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces (Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Part 1 of who knows how many parts :)

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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The heavy sound of rain flood the streets of Nueva York. The dim street lights felt faded as the mist blocked their glow. Despite the downpour that washed the streets, the stench of blood still lingered. A foul odor that could never truly be cleaned from this city.

Nueva York was riddled with crime. Each part of the city was owned and govern by their own mafia. Drugs, alcohol and fights were always a topic and always a cause to stay indoors. Only the smart stayed away from the mafia. They were the ones to survive this city unscathed. They were the ones to avoid trouble.

You had just moved into the city, unaware of its true face, nor did you really have a choice. You were desperate to get away from your old life. Despite for a fresh start. So much so, that you landed in one of the worst parts of the city. The place you rented was small, but it was enough to keep you hidden.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you near cried at the sight of a roach. Tears threaten to spill as you sprayed the roach spray against the foul creature for dear life. You had just moved into the place. You were warned by your friends and family of the filth of the city, but they didn't know anything. They didn't know the pain you were in.

"Ew, ew!" You whined as you grabbed the broom, throwing the roach away.

Once you were freed from that horrid task, you continued to clean and unpack. You double checked everything for roaches and mice, wanting to sleep soundly for once. You shuddered at the thought as you pulled out old photographs of your high school days. Within those pictures was the cause of your depature.

Your ex.

You had fled your hometown due to your abusive ex-boyfriend, Eddie Brock. The man was so kind to you at first, treating you well until you officially started dating. Your college life was cut short due to his beatings and yelling. You were always at fault. You could never be good enough for him. You were always the problem.

The thought made you sob. You moved to this city on a whim thanks to your small job. You just wanted to stop living in that hell. Everyone loved your ex. They never truly saw what he was. They never even asked how you were.

"I-I need to s-stop crying." You whispered to yourself as you looked out the window, "I-I have work tomorrow. I...I need to be ready."

-----------

Meanwhile, a few blocks over, Miguel was sitting before his large patio, watching the rain. He held a glass of vodka in his hand, watching the lightening brighten the sky more than the city lights itself. He inhaled to the loud roar of thunder before being interrupted by a knock at his door.

"Que? (What)" He hissed lowly. Lyla smiled as she walked over with a folder, placing them on his desk,

"Just something for the morning." She chirped and approached the door, "There's another one waiting outside. Shall I send her in?"

"Ha, and get some fake praises. She can only come in if she wants a quick fuck. I won't deal with gold diggers." Miguel grumbled.

Lyla just hummed in response before shutting the door. Miguel could only groan in annoyance as he placed his glass down. His night would have been better off alone. Closing the blinds to his patio, Miguel approached his desk to the file. It was going to be another long day tomorrow.

---------

There was a scurry to your step as you tried to please your new boss. It was your first day working in the chain supermarket, and you were stressed. This version of your old job was far busier, louder and ruder than what you were used to. You were a shy and quiet person, so having so many people yell and pull you around was breaking you.

"(Y/N)! Deli needs a hand, you ever did that?" One of your coworkers asked. You flinched at the sudden yell,

"I-I have helped packaged an-"

"Good enough, go help and put a kick in it!"

You just agreed and hurried to the deli. You grabbed a hair net and gasped lowly at your fellow coworkers there. They were all so tall and mean looking. You were like a deer in headlights the moment they saw you enter their kitchen. You just bowed your head slightly and quietly made your way to the meat wrapping station.

"Why'd they put her here? She don't know anything yet," One of the taller men whispered. You're ears perked up since whispers weren't exactly in their volcabulary,

"She's a scaredy cat. Ain't nothing comin' outta her mouth. Same like the rest of us,"

You wanted to ask them what they were talking about, but you were too scared to find out. That, and you learned the harsh lesson of minding your own business. Dear ol' Eddie gave you that cruel lesson. Shaking your head at the thought, you didn't want to be known as the employee who cried on their first day.

"Hey, new kid," One of your coworkers called out, approaching you, "Yer new here, so let me warn you. We got three freezers in the deli. One is full of the fresh meat we get. Leave that to us big guys. You can enter the second freezer with the small cuts for the customers. The third freezer, you never enter. Don't ask questions about it. Don't peak into it. Just pretend it never exists. Oh, and don't make eye contact with those who enter it."

"Okay,"

Hell fucking no. You were going to stay far away from dear freezer number three. That was a lot more information than you even wanted to hear. Hell, you weren't a fan of entering freezer number two. Once your coworkers were reassured by your understanding, they returned to work.

Your hands trembled over your station as you tried to focus on your job with the seven men yelling around you. This was your sad new life. You had to get used to this. You were either going to make it in the city or die trying.

--------

Miguel lazily glanced out his window seat, spotting the upcoming supermarket. There was a rumble in his throat as he leaned back in his seat. His men tailing behind him in different cars. Miguel told his driver to stop, wanting to walk the rest of the way while his men parked around back.

"Peter, take our guest into the freezer. I'm going to make a pit stop at the deli," Miguel said over the phone.

"Miguel, we talked about this. You're the boss, let us handle the work." Peter tried reasoning over the phone.

Miguel wasn't even paying attention. He hung up and proceeded to enter the supermarket. His presence alone made the managers cower and the workers silent. Of course, none of the regular customers knew anything. None of them suspected that he, Miguel O'Hara, CEO of Alchemax, was the leader of the Spider Mafia. One of the biggest and ruthless mafia in town.

"The usual?" One of the deli men questioned. Miguel glanced over his shoulder, noticing you shaking like a leaf while avoiding your coworkers,

"And they say I'm cruel. New hire?"

"Transfer from out of town," The man replied.

Miguel raised a brow towards you. You were pale in the face as you apologized for getting in people's way. Miguel couldn't help but snort. It was cute. Something he was not used too. Returning his attention to the deli worker, Miguel could only smirk as he watched his men drag their guest into freezer number three.

"The bird needs to be plucked." Was all Miguel said for the man to understand.

-------

You whimpered softly as you moved away from everyone's path. It had gotten far too busy for your liking. Once you caught a break, you noticed the deli supervisor talking to a handsome man. You tilted your head, stealing a glance. The man was tall and gorgeous. He wore a slick all black suit. Something very fancy for this part of town.

The man took notice of you and smiled. Your cheeks immediately started to heat up as you quickly returned to your job. As you did, you noticed some men enter the third freezer. You paled instantly. It was your first day! Biting you lower lip, you tried to focus on your work. Right as you did, you noticed the handsome man from earlier walk by you and towards the freezer,

"Keep up the good work, conejita (bunny)." He whispered.

You felt your heart race as the door shut. His voice was so deep and low. If only he hadn't entered the freezer. Perhaps, you would have gotten to know him as a regular.

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Next Chapter!

[futureplayboibunnie]

Heartless Pt. 4

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

thank you for all the love so far! also this is my personal touch for this fic, but while i was writing it i was listening to the entire Honeymoon album by lana del rey (especially the instrumentals) i’d recommend listenting to it. it fits this vibe so perfectly, literally trying to encapsulate that feeling with this series.

“I'm in the middle of something.” You piped up nonchalantly, like being half naked and dripping with water in front of men was a completely normal occurrence. “Well, now that you're here, it would be nice if you were helpful by getting my bags.” You said with a wry, and slightly pissed-off smile. He just observed you with darkened eyes and a grinding jaw, if he pressed harder you would practically hear the bones crunch together. The look you gave him was an urging one. “So what will it be? Gaping at me blankly or being mildly helpful?” Your tone was aggravating, grating the inside of his head- your glib comments were making him realize that you were actually capable of disrespecting him.

Miguel didn't know what to make of you in his room like this, acting as if it were your own. It wasn't. But you were married now. Technically, what was his was yours. He didn't like it. He sneered, his features merely angry slashes contorting up his face. “I'm not your sniffer dog.” He barked, storming out of the room and slamming the door so hard that it closed and sprung back open. You rolled your eyes at his outburst, but you had to admit, it was a little unnerving to see him lose his temper that quickly. Miguel huffed, grabbed your stupid bag, and slammed the door open like a bull in a china shop. “Here, and get out of the room. It's mine.”

“What? I was in here first.” You protested in vain, you were the one who was dragged away on a honeymoon, you were the one who was being ordered around like a stuck-up child. The least he could do was let you sleep wherever you wanted to sleep.

“Well, I own the fucking building.” Miguel bit back deadpan, his voice flat and so sadistically arrogant, like money was all that made him. It was an insult to the whole idea of humanity to rely on something as belittling as money.

Miguel's head was storming, dissecting every single premonition about you and how you could so easily flip on him, he would tolerate your disrespect for now, you hadn't properly settled in yet, but if you made it a habit, he'd make you regret it. It should be funny, Miguel was so proper and particular about his women. There were things he liked and didn't like on women. He hated flats. He only liked certain colors. He hated jeans. He liked skirts and dresses for...easy access. He liked his women easy, and you were definitely not easy. You were making it difficult for him on purpose now. But for some reason, defiance suited you more than nonchalant complacency. It was more entertaining than the graceful, polite facade you shirked up.

“Can I put my clothes on now?” You objected, snapping him out of his pondering, looking like an idiot just glaring at you like this.

Part of him wanted to say ‘Well. No. I'd prefer you with nothing on actually.' His steely resolve almost broke at the realization, but he shook his head and pushed it down. Yes, you were attractive but your personality was a mystery for him, he was battling his own personal mysteries, and he didn't have time to psychoanalyze anyone elses.

-

You slept...okay. Miguel didn't disturb you or actually force you out of his room which was odd. He probably had enough of this senseless bickering, you'd probably just go back to ignoring each other, maybe at least try to independently enjoy this stupid 'honeymoon.’

The sun woke you up sweetly, and the soft gentle breeze billowed through the open curtains, offering the hum of salt air whispering through the room. You wanted to avoid Miguel as long as you could, so you decided to just go in the garden, sunbathe, read a book, do something meaningless to just forget about the fact you're married to one of the most dangerous men you've ever met.

You practically jumped out of bed, went to the bathroom, splashed your face with water, brushed your hair, and put it up in a claw clip with the speed of an Olympic runner. But what was all the hurrying for when you were completely stumped on what to wear? You tossed out your clothes and put them all away, you ultimately decided to wear a bikini and on top a cute mid-thigh sundress, you weren't going anywhere too fancy, the back garden wasn't exactly Paris fashion week. When you glanced outside the terrace, you were happy to see that the garden was adorned with carefully cut shrubs, willowing trees, orchids, and chrysanthemums. Considering Miguel rarely leaves for leisure, it was a surprise that is was being kept up - it must have meant a lot to him then. You grabbed your things and opened the door quietly, wanting to sneak out as soundlessly as possible in order not to attract attention from Miguel, or worse, be the reason to wake him up.

You padded away barefoot, feeling the warmth of the sun outside surround you as it seeped through every glass window.

Even though Miguel told you to get used to his lifestyle, you still hadn't settled in, something just didn't sit quite right with you. You were fortunate enough to come from a wealthy family but the way Miguel wasn't bothered by the sheer amount of blood money he acquired is...distasteful. Thinking of which, you peeked your head around the corner in order to see if Miguel was awake but instead you found something else. He wasn't in bed at all. He was asleep, his hands were crossed on the kitchen counter and his head was flat on his upper arm, fast asleep with his laptop open in front of him Jesus. He still hadn't changed. What was it with men not wanting to take care of themselves?

You shifted towards him, inching closer and closer to his sleeping form. Wow. He almost looked peaceful, not full of that mindless aggression he was known for. His copper hair was tousled and disheveled, his golden skin was creased but reflective against the light, and his breathing was slow and heavy- it was odd seeing him this relaxed when he wasn't even in a relaxing position in the first place. You raised an eyebrow at his disposition. Maybe Miguel wanted to outsmart and outwit sleep, he obviously had to succumb to its charms. You worked your way around the kitchen island, unable to stop looking at him like this, you grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and just stood and stared at him like a creep. You really should leave before he wakes up, but you didn't want him sending his capos combing the entire complex for you, so you just left him a note.

In the garden.

-

Miguel heard a gunshot.

It reverberated in his ears.

More gunshots. Thousands of rounds smoking away.

His eyes widened, and the sleep left his bones. His head spun around, shifting erratically, and he almost fell off the fucking chair. A tight anxiety squeezed the color out of his face, the heavy breaths wouldn't bring any solance to any of the fragments falling at his palms. His chest filled with panic, and the first thing that came into his head to find was you. He eyed your note and rushed down as fast as he could. He needed to get you out of here.

But then all he heard was silence when he stepped out onto the patio. A muffling silence. Then the sharp hum of wildlife, the birds chirping, the distant sounds of the beach, the flattening waves. The crickets trilled and the leaves rustled, the nostalgia of the oddly familiar sounds crept up on him like a disillusioning shadow. An itch he couldn't scratch. A never-ending nightmare he couldn't end. A man with everything he could ever want, but no clear consciousness, no clear mind. He was blind and tortured.

You were lying on a sunbed, and Miguel only caught onto your back and a little bit of your side profile. His eyes were dead set on you, contemplating you...and there you are, emerging in his eyeline. Those flashes of skin become a painting, a jigsaw puzzle coming together. He was slow in his movements, finally viewing you as you were. You were lying there, glowing in a small bikini, taking in the sun like a nymph. Your body was so….

Miguel frowned.

The apple you bit into was stuck to your teeth, you stopped everything you were doing, pausing for your eyes to follow from Miguel's thighs to his face. This was the moment where he saw you as if you were like a deer in headlights, like a naive girl who tries to hide behind back-talk and retaliation. The wide-eyed look you gave him, pupils glazing over, revealing no thought behind your eyes. But he saw you. He saw you being affected by his presence. He felt himself loom over you. Your eyebrows creased in pensive irritation, Miguel's face was hard and steely in something he couldn't quite define. You finished biting into the apple, chewing and just giving him a nonchalant look. Reverting back like second instinct.

“Did you rush out here to gawk at me again? Or to blame me for your lack of sleep?” You breathed out judgementally, but at that moment, the way your eyes connected sent a strange chill down your spine, even when you were lying out in the sun. Miguel felt it too. The scorching, pulsating beat behind your gaze was a never-ending maze, an attempt to figure out who was going to break first. Neither of you was willing to back down. It was sizzling…as wellias unsettling.

Miguel didn't know how to answer your question. He couldn't exactly tell you that his nightmares of the most traumatic thing that's ever happened to him tricked his head into believing he was hearing the remnants of it in real time. Part of him wanted to say yes to both. His sleep schedule was a nightmare in itself and the woman who is the bane of his existence has to be looking so...delicious when he was absolutely not in the mood. He wanted you with nothing on, maybe force you to look at him the exact same way he just found you...with his hand between your thighs.

Miguel shook the annoying, sleep-induced thought away. He was acting like every other man, their mind wandering to hell when they see any attractive woman- he won't fall for it. He won't. But you weren’t any other woman were you?

Miguel watched you bite into the apple and instinctively, he just grabbed it from your mouth, almost pulling at it. He watched your face flit into a multitude of different emotions at what he did. You opened your mouth to say something but you just huffed instead, glaring a hole into his face. Miguel took a bite out of it and tilted his head to contemplate you. He knew he shocked you.

You were really fuckable.

Extremely fuckable.

It was an objective statement.

But he still won't play into it. Nah. You wouldn’t be able to fix him. He was too damaged for you. He wouldn’t mind the primitive pleasure of fucking you. He just won’t do it. You weren’t as nice as before. You’d grown a smart mouth.

“Hm.” That was all he could say to you. “I want my room back.” His fingers reached out and tilted your chin up a little, he felt you flinch just a millisecond and that expression on your face was unamused, dead set looking up at him. It felt like you were holding your breath. He took another bite out of the apple. "Happy sunbathing carino." He yelled behind him as he walked away.

-

taglist (giggles) : @deputy-videogamer @aisyakirmann @idolautism @residentialcryptid @bunnyrose01 @hqllcheers @minalovesyoubabes @amelialysm @moonvoidpng @ahano @hanberkkk @lavenderslemonade @mynameiswilliamblake @gejo333 @leahnicole1219 @iite-cool @zaunsin @kkchgee @yujyujj @hazelnutbitch @hiraya1802 @leo-lvr @sh4nn @watyousayin @siidmm @ciwywt-com @death-moth-art @ihateuguys @enmuhusben @berry-potchy @s0lm1n @amelialysm @migueloharastruelove @lauraolar14 @tashames @soymiguelsesposa @noblesavagex @miguelsslutprincess @lilipads (sometimes i hate this fkn app it literally doensn’t let me tag other ppl why)

[spdrwdw]

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name. 

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies. 

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going. 

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family. 

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with. 

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world. 

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men. 

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose. 

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together. 

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara. 

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home. 

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head. 

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated. 

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever! 

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape. 

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them. 

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him. 

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were. 

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid. 

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other. 

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats. 

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you. 

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other. 

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection. 

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending. 

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent. 

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you. 

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all. 

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor. 

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message. 

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes? 

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him. 

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes. 

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him. 

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet. 

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door. 

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them. 

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son. 

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions. 

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot. 

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked. 

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot. 

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses. 

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body. 

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted. 

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck. 

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him. 

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave. 

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there. 

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track. 

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story. 

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one. 

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times. 

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong. 

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her. 

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there. 

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house. 

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come. 

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband. 

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact. 

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt. 

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you. 

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands. 

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit. 

“What?” You questioned. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress. 

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked. 

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a  man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over. 

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up. 

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time. 

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage. 

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two. 

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone. 

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

 He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus. 

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes. 

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see. 

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him. 

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel. 

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty. 

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader. 

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table. 

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat. 

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation. 

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though. 

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly. 

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man. 

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone. 

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers. 

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables. 

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.  

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him. 

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible. 

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night. 

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you. 

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed. 

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Hello I’d like to request something :3 what if miguel was a maifa boss and he was both Spider-Man and the worlds deadliest maifa boss and he teased reader as spider man, like when he saves her.

“You should really be careful. Wouldn’t want a monster swallowing you up now~” and one day she’s in danger from a tentacle monster (or something) and his identity is shown and the two go home after the monster is defeated and just have the most steamiest of S E X-

OmggGGGGG- yes yes yes

Miguel x F!Reader - Savior

CW: NSFW, mafia, s e x w/ plot

Word count: 1,435

The infamous Spider-Man had saved you many times now. Honestly, with how much you needed rescuing it seemed like you were just asking for trouble. You never got close enough to learn anything… personal. He’d swoop in, save you, carry you off to a safe spot or even your apartment, and that was that. Despite not knowing him personally, you started developing feelings for the masked hero.

Every time he saved you, you became distracted by him. How tall he was, the way his tight suit defined every curve and muscle of his body. That sexy voice that made you wet every time he spoke. His entire being turned you on. Your body had very inconvenient timing. You couldn’t believe you were more focused on swooning over him than your life being in danger. Maybe your body just knew you were safe in his presence, and all worries washed away.

Today was no different. After so many encounters with villains and criminals, they started to not scare you, you knew he’d rescue you. So when a giant slimy tentacle monster grabs hold of you, the usual sense of fear didn’t overwhelm you it like so often did. You did scream at first, as the monster coiled it’s long tendril around your ankle and houses you up in the air. Blood flowed to your head quickly and you squirmed. Of course this happens the day you wore a skirt.

Just like clockwork, you saw the familiar neon red webs go flying by as Spider-Man swung in. And like every single time you grew so wet at the sight of him, your mind completely forgetting about the danger you are in.

“You should really be careful. Wouldn’t want a monster swallowing you up now~” Spider-Man teased as he tied the beast up with his webs. He did take notice of your skirt, exposed panties so wet. He’s so distracted he doesn’t notice the monster swinging a tentacle at him, slamming him against a building.

His suit glitched, and you could see his face for a brief moment. Your eyes widen in shock when you immediately recognize him. Miguel O’Hara. The mafia boss that practically ruled the country with his power. He was Spider-Man? He was the one saving everyone? The one that made you feel so incredibly horny every time you saw that blue and red suit.

He quickly got his suit fixed before getting back in the fight, easily defeating this monster. The tendril let go of you and you fell to the ground with a yelp. He caught you in those muscular arms and your heart skipped a beat. Spider-Man, well... Miguel, brought you to the rooftop of a tall building and set you down to make sure you're not injured.

“So...” You started, “You're Miguel O'Hara, huh?” That was a very bold starter sentence, even for you. His head snapped in your direction, the eyes of his mask squinting as he looked at you.

“Who told you that?” He growled.

You suddenly realize what the fuck you just did and you back up against the railing. “Well your suit glitched and I saw your face and-” You cut yourself off when you heard him chuckle. He was laughing at you?

“I figured you'd find out eventually, Carino. With how wet you are I just knew you'd learn sooner or later.” A deep blush spread across your cheeks as you realized he had seen your panties, soaked with your slick just from watching him as he saved you. You subconsciously closed your legs, and he definitely noticed.

Without saying another word he scooped you up again and took you to your apartment. You knew where this was going, and the thought just soaked your panties even more as you clung to him. He entered your apartment through the window and his mask dissolved so you could see his face clearly. He truly did look intimidating face to face, but you didn’t feel any fear.

Miguel looked around your apartment before looking back at you. He smirked before pushing you against the wall, and you pulled him into a deep kiss, feeling a bit impatient now. You didn’t know what came over you, you didn’t understand why you had this deep need to get fucked by him.

His hands are all over you as the two of you make out, your hands on his big shoulders. You felt the rest of his suit dissolve and his bare skin on your hands, letting out a small gasp when his hard cock sprung free against your clothed pussy. He shivered a little feeling the wet fabric on his dick.

You were lifted with ease, your legs wrapping around him as he pinned you to the wall. With a free hand he ripped your panties off using his talons. He rubbed his cock between your wet folds, getting it all slick and lubed up. You let out another gasp when you saw the size, now you were scared. How could that fucking fit? He was huge!

As he rubbed against you, the tip kept teasing your needy hole and covering your pussy with precum. You pulled him closer with your legs and he grunted when he felt the tip almost enter you.

“Cálmate…” He groaned into your ear before dipping his head to kiss your neck, nipping and leaving hickeys. His actions as well as the feeling of the cock tease your clit made you moan. You whine and try to pull him against you more. He gives in this time, pressing the tip into your hole slowly.

You moan as he enters you, feeling your pussy stretch so tight around him. He goes slow at first, pushing in inch by inch until he’s completely buried in you. His hands grab and grope as your body, your hips, your tits, your ass, he wants to feel all of you. He groaned when he couldn’t and started ripping the rest of your clothes off so he can see your skin against his.

His hands settled on your hips as he started rocking his slowly, moving his length in and out. It was agonizing. You needed more. To feel more. Your hands found their way to his waist and you tried to make him pick up his speed. He let out a chuckle, and suddenly your hands were tied with red webs, suspended to the ceiling. Now you were truly at his mercy.

You moaned as his pace quickened, your pussy clenching around his girth as he fucked you into the wall. Your mind went fuzzy, all thoughts consumed by Miguel and how fucking amazing he felt inside you. Your head fell against his shoulder as more beautiful moans escaped your lips. He whispered praises in your ear, telling you how good you felt on him and how amazing you sounded.

As you clenched around him more he groaned. He had been pent up all day, and everything about you was just pulling him to the edge. He did not want to release first, and he started thrusting faster in hopes to make you cum first, to give you a mind blowing orgasm. You moan against his shoulder as the tip of his cock hit that special spot.

His hand traveled down, and he started to play with your clit. You squirm and cry as he rubs circles around your bud, feeling that familiar tightness in your stomach.

“Shit I… fuck I’m close…” You moaned and he nodded in response, speeding up with hand to match the pace of his cock. A few more thrusts and you were undone, letting out a loud cry as you came all over his dick, tightening around him over and over. He grunted and hilted in you as he released as well, filling you up with his cum.

He rocked his hips slowly as you both rode out your orgasms, placing kisses to your neck and shoulders. Once you both calmed down you whined as the overstimulation as he continued his slow thrusts. He finally pulled out and you sighed in relief, your clit twitching from so my stimulation.

“Does this make me your hot trophy wife?” You joked as you panted, earning a grin from him. “You know ‘cause of the mafia thing. We could make this a regular thing~” You chuckled.

“I guess it would keep you out of trouble. So we’ll see, depends how much you can take.” He smirked, and your eyes widened when he moved you to the couch, cock already hardening again as he positioned you for round two…

[guilty-pleasures21]

Maybe this will just be my trash one.

Mafia boss Miguel is here, guys! AHH!!! - ONGOING

1. Um ... yeah ...

Part 1 - the beginning

Part 2 - the car

Part 3 - the detectives

Part 4 - the contract

Part 5 - the clothes

2. Um, getting closer?

Part 1 - the divorce

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 6: Nerve

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: orgasm denial, fingering, degradation, tension, slow burn, Miguel is a dick again.

Your eyes searched Miguel’s face as he hung up the phone and tossed it behind him onto his couch without breaking his eye contact with you. You went through when you’d just said to your cold-blooded killer of a boss. 

You implied he had a small dick.

You were so dead. 

His grip on your wrist tightened and his expression became practically violent, as if you could see the lust for murder growing in him. 

“I told you to knock off that bratty attitude.” He hissed and your stomach dropped. “Now, I have to teach you a lesson.” “You’re on fucking crack if you think I’m going to be spoken to this way.” Your mouth spit out and your cheeks burned. You couldn’t hide it anymore, he was turning you on right now with how intimidating he was being, and you squeezed your thighs together while still trying to square your shoulders. 

You’d never had such a raw attraction to someone like you did in this moment, which was crazy because you couldn’t stand Miguel. Your hoe-bag boss with countless lives he’d taken. You hated everything he was, everything he stood for. How could he make you so wet?

His lips turned to a scowl as you instinctively staggered backwards, knees wobbling like a baby horse learning to walk. He pulled your arm up over his shoulder so your chest pressed to his and you fell into him with no hope of escape, now putting all of your weight on him to not fall. 

“I can see how much you like it when I reprimand you, how you get all flustered and red. So stop being a fucking pain in my ass or I’ll show you how red I can make your cheeks, and not the ones on that pretty fuckable face.” 

Your eyes widened at his words and you moved so your noses were almost touching, a challenging gaze forming in your eyes. 

“You think my face is fuckable?” You hinted and he growled in response. 

“You-” He whirled you around and threw your body on the couch with the same amount of energy he used to toss his phone, like you weighted the same as the technology now lost to the floor. You bounced a bit and he moved to the end of his couch, grabbing your ankle and yanking your body haphazardly down to meet his, making you yelp out in surprise from the abrupt movement. “So frustration, watching you parade around all day in those tight fucking skirts and heels.” He huffed, flipping you over before you could respond. Kneeing halfway onto the couch, he placed his knee on the other side of your thighs and kept you locked between his legs. His hand slid up your back and he pulled at the soft hair at the nape of your neck. Your back arched so his chest was inches away from your back and he whispered in your ear. 

“Say no right now, prove me wrong, and I’ll act like this never happened. Tell me you don’t want me to take you right here, right now, and I won’t.” His teeth grazed your skin and his breath was intoxicating against your throat, making you roll your shoulders to lean up into him more. 

“Say you want this. I need to hear it or I’ll stop.” He concluded and you huffed, not wanting to say it out loud and give into him. 

“Fine-” His hand loosened in your hair and you turned your head to the side to look at him, making him freeze. 

“I-I want it!” You rushed out and pouted stubbornly. His lips curved into a large smile and he yanked your hair harder, smacking your ass so hard that you felt tears form in the corner of your eyes from the one hit. A second and a third came fast as he chuckled. 

“Where are those wise-ass comments now? Nothing to say, brat?” He mocked you and you shook your head, trying to find some sort of come-back without sounding desperate. God, you needed him to touch you under your clothes, you needed to have him against you, skin to skin. 

“F-Fuck you, O’Hara.” You mumbled out and he stopped, smirking. 

“Is that an insult or are you telling me what you want?” He stayed with a smug expression on his face as his finger tugged aside your panties, thrusting into you with reckless abandon. You were more than wet enough for him to just finger-fuck you without any prep, but you weren’t expecting his digits to be so… large. Once again, you were reminded of how big he actually was. 

“Come on, talk to me with that bitchy little mouth of yours, I wanna hear you bark more at me like a fucking dog.” He was enjoying making fun of you, enjoying having you so compliant for once. His hands moved against you with speed, making you see stars far faster than you wanted to admit. He groaned and slipped his finger out of you once more to continue assaulting your ass with a multitude of hard, painful smacks. You groaned when he shoved his finger inside, accompanied by another and not taking the time for you to get used to the stretch. You let out a guttural sound and he leaned down to whisper. 

“Only well-behaved girls get my patience. You’ve made me mad, so you will take it and like it, no matter how hard and fast I fuck you.” 

His words went straight to your throbbing clit, making your body shake as an orgasm was about to blind you from pleasure. 

And then he stopped. He got off of you in a flash and you laid there, shaking as your high slowly dissipated. You looked up and saw him licking his fingers clean, a stoic expression on his face. 

“Miguel, what the fuck?” You barked once more and he raised a brow, obviously entertained by your upset reaction. 

“Did I say you could cum? Did you really think I’d let you cum after telling me you thought I had a small dick? No, not tonight. You get to go home and touch yourself to the idea of me fucking you, just like I have since you started running that nasty mouth of yours and bursting into my office.” He sat across from you now, stretching both arms over his chair and crossing a foot over his knee, showing off the boner he was rocking. 

And holy fucking shit, he was huge. Almost painful to imagine, as if a tree was growing in his pants right now. 

You felt yourself about to start drooling as you stared at his appendage without shame, then looking back at him with angry fire roaring in your eyes. 

“You are the worst.” 

“And yet here you are, craving my cock.” He shot back and you stood up, fixing your wrinkled clothing and storming towards his elevator. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t wear any underwear,” He called and you shot him a look of disbelief before he continued, “follow orders, and maybe I’ll let you cum.” 

“I’m not a fucking animal, jackass, I don’t follow the orders of you.” And with those words, you were gone. Slamming your finger into the lobby button, you folded your arms and immediately regretted that decision when your arm brushed against your hard, sensitive nipples. 

This sucked. 

The next day was annoying. Miguel didn’t call you once, didn’t even ride with you to work. 

Sitting in your office, you were doing bland, nothing paperwork when it was suddenly time for lunch, so you messaged Lyla and Jess to see if they wanted to get something together. Jess was busy, but Lyla immediately agreed. 

“What’s with your face?” She asked as you two waited in line for salads at some health food restaurant. 

“My face?”

“You’re all weird right now.” She poked your shoulder as you stepped forward in line. 

“Miguel makes me want to blow my fucking brains out. Everything is a secret or an issue, or a whore in his office or-” 

“What?” She gave you a look of confusion as you shook your head, relenting the topic and grabbing a salad bowl. “Listen, the big guy is a horn dog, I know that for sure, but he doesn’t normally have sex in the office. It’s a once a week thing, most of the time. He’s a workaholic, he doesn’t have time during the day to have sex.” 

Lyla’s words echoed in your head for a second and your blank face made her stop pouring her dressing to raise her brows. “How often do you find him having sex here?” 

“Once a day. At least.” You speak and check your watch, then pulling out your phone and scrolling through the schedule. “He has it scheduled for ten minutes from now.” 

“He schedules it?” She smiled and started laughing. “Oh, I need to see this.” 

“He says that you hire women who are married to deter him from sleepin with them.” You stated and waited for her to answer, but she just laughed. “Well- yes and no. It definitely helps him turn them down when they ask him to hook up or make moves on him, but it’s also because he doesn’t normally like sharing any woman he sleeps with. He hates the idea of her being in bed with any other guys-” She stops talking and thinks, then smiling again. “So that’s what he’s up to.” 

“What?” You ask again and she just bounces on her toes a bit, excited. 

“I have an idea and you’re gonna hate it, but I’m not letting you out of it.” She smirks and begins pressing buttons on her holographic watch, tapping Miguel’s name and watching the camera’s poop up. It's a live feed of his office. 

“Lyla, he’s gonna kill us-” 

“Not if he doesn’t find out.” She answers and stares at the tiny floating screen. Your eyes are glued to it as well, watching him bring the random woman into his office and lock the door. You both watch as he begins to maneuver her and finger her a bit, bending her over his desk and pushing her skirt above her hips. As he’s about to unzip his pants, Lyla taps his name below the screen and speaks. 

“Miguel, you’ve got a visitor on the ground level. Something about hitting your car?” She says into the speaker of his cameras, his eyes immediately becoming enraged and buckling his pants once more, stomping out without even helping the poor girl on his desk. Lyla rushes you to the elevator and hits his floor, watching him move through the cameras and see him getting into the opposite side elevator, before yanking your hand and pulling you into your own office. “He won’t even think of me hiding here this time.” 

“This time?” You ask, still out of breath from how fast the small girl walks. 

“Yeah, I used to do this to him all the time, but not while he was fucking around with the marketting team. I usually pranked him when he was trying to have lunch or cleaning his guns. Ya know, that mundane stuff. He hates being interrupted.” Lyla rambles on and you just nod. 

“Is he… gonna be mad at us?” 

“Yeah, for an hour or two, but then he’ll get some phone call to be mad at and he’ll forget it even happened.” She shrugged and sat on your desk. You sank into your computer chair and closed your eyes before you heard the door swing open, making you jump and Lyla smile. 

“Took you longer than usual.” Lyla spoke and jumped up, seeing Miguel with his chest heaving and eyes piercing past Lyla into you. “Distracted, boss man?” She teased and he shot her a glare before looking back at you. This made your back straighten up, crossing your legs. This made his eyes flicker between your pressed thighs and your nervous eyes. 

“Lyla, leave us alone.” 

“It was my idea, I swear! She just had your schedule and-” 

“I said go.” He repeated without even glancing at her, to which she gave you a defeated look and walked out. As the door shut behind her, you jumped a bit and felt your heart sink at the silence that followed. 

“Did you not understand what I said yesterday?” 

“It wasn’t my idea, I swear.” 

“You told her about the schedule, didn’t you?” He asked and you just nodded, shrinking under his towering form as he made his way closer to you. Your chair faced forward as he approached you from the side of your desk, avoiding looking at him now, but that made him even more irate. He spun your chair to face him and kept his hand on the back of the headrest, caging you in. 

“You did this on purpose.” 

“No! It wasn’t even my fault, you heard her say that-”

“She’ll say anything for those she wants to protect.” He answers and his eyes turn to slits as he leans further down. “And you love being a pain in my ass, interrupting me, frustrating me.” 

The gravel of his voice hit you, the familiar warmth beginning to make an appearance in your belly, making your breathing erratic as he searched your face for something. He knew what he was doing to you, he saw it as your hands gripped the sides of his chair while you tried not to break eye contact with him. 

This was a battle, a challenge of who could be in control. You defied him constantly, made him angry and made his dick hard with the way you always talked back. He was the most dangerous man in Nueva York, and you had the nerve to provoke him every time he directed you or reprimanded you. All for your own good, too, but you couldn’t just follow his orders, could you? 

“Maybe you need a different type of lesson.”

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[darkfoxkirin]

Mafia Boss Miguel O'Hara

[tarjapearce]

Need to get this out:

Mafia! Boss Miguel.

Mafia Boss Miguel that has been terrorizing little businesses around the neighborhood.

Mafia Boss Miguel that had told your husband way too many times to stay away from his business.

But of course, the pigheaded man your had married was too proud and stupid to listen.

Mafia Boss Miguel is pissed. Pissed at the audacity your husband has to defy him. He will teach why he is known as 'El Diablo'

A little raid here and there and your husband was beaten up and tied up. Forced to watch as Miguel had fun with you.

The kind of fun that has you panting, mewling, squirming and begging for more before your husband's horrified eyes. The Boss himself seems pleased at your complying.

"Having such a pretty thing neglected..." He'd mumble before unleashing an onslaught of mind blowing and jaw slacking thrusts.

You don't meant to hurt him, but it's been so long since you had your guts properly rearranged or touched even. Your husband too busy with thinking in ways to screw people over that karma knew how to give it back. And it feels good. Painfully good to see your husband beg you to stop as his raging boner shows up at the sight of him getting cucked.

Mafia Boss Miguel makes a wrecking mess out of you. But that's not enough for him. It never is. Even though, you're panting, sweating and full of cum, you're taken to his car by his henchmen.

A little guarantee until your husband pays up. But knowing him, you know he has never had the intention of paying people.

You want to be scared, and you are. But you're also thrilled and confused. Thrilled because you were delivered right in the top demon's claws and had a taste of his power, and confused because you know you shouldn't be thrilled. Yet here you are. handcuffed and manhandled by him in the back of his car.

A gun is brought to your temple as he unzips his pants. Steely and husky voice commanding

"Clean it."

He'd already found a good use for you in the meantime.

(Fic here)

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Pt. 2

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Part 1

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Normally, the inside of a freezer would be packed with boxes of meat or other cold food. Normally, a freezer would just be a place where workers popped in, grabbed the item they were looking for, and popped out. Unfortunally, this was no normal freezer. Behind the large wall of maze like boxes, was a large room.

Miguel's lazy gaze followed out of the maze and into the ice cold room. There, in the middle, was a man hanging upside down. Miguel's men all moved away from the hanging man, waiting for their boss' order. Miguel let out a quick sigh, watching his breathe.

"I only like to be this cold in the winter," Miguel started as he walked around the upside down, "What month is it?"

The prisoner just spat towards the floor, refusing to answer. His scowl towards Miguel and his men was filled with anger. Miguel scoffed in response and snapped his fingers. In and instant, Ben punched the man in the stomach. Peter bend down and grabbed the enemy by the hair.

"I don't like repeating myself."

"Tch, September." The man hissed. Miguel scoffed again,

"So winter is still a ways away." He stood in front of the man and pulled out a large meat cutting tool, "Vulture has some nerve having his men enter my territory. Looks like I'll have to teach him a lesson again."

"Kill me all you want, but Vulture won't be shaken by the likes of you!"

"Kill?" Miguel snorted, his cruel laugh echoing the freezer, "You must be new. We Spiders don't kill-"

Peter and Ben dropped the man to the ground, ignoring his grunts. The two brought him to a chair and held him down. Miguel's smirk grew wider as he approached the man slowly,

"Simplemente romperemos cada hueso de tu cuerpo. Una vez que hayas aprendido tu error, haremos lo que hacen las arañas y te sacaremos de tu miseria. (We'll just break every bone in your body. Once you learned your mistake, then we'll do as Spiders do and put you out of your misery.)"

--------------

It was finally time for you to go home. Your body was exhausted from working. If everyday was going to be like this, you honestly might not last. Slowly making your way out of the supermarket with some groceries, you whimpered. After walking a block, you finally cried. It was such a rough day.

The sheer pressure of everyone's presence was going to break you. Rubbing your eyes, you whimpered as people passed you by without a care. That was normal. It was normal. Shuddering a sigh, you continued to walk to your new home. No one ever checked up on you. No one ever thought to care how your feelings were. So why bother now?

Once you finally arrived home, you put your groceries away, showered and plopped onto your bed. You were too tired to make dinner. Too tired to check your laundry. Reaching for your phone, you double checked your alarms in case you fell asleep. As you did, you saw a text from one of your friends.

'Hey, so I know you don't want Eddie to know you moved, but like, he seems really worried.'

Your eyes started to tear up. Some friend. They were falling right into Eddie's palm. This was why you only told your parents and like two people about your sudden move. You had hoped they would keep a secret, but you should have known better. Which was why you never told them where in NYC you were.

'Don't tell him.' Was all you replied with.

This wasn't fair. You moved away for a reason. All you could do was hope that your parents and your two friends would stay quiet. Sobbing into your pillow, you curled into a ball and wept yourself to sleep.

---------

If any part of you was ready for a vacation, it was your eyes. They had bags all packed up and ready to go. You had been living in Nueva York for about one month now. It was still a hard adjustment for you. The trains scared you, your neighborhood scared you, your job scared you and your past haunted you.

"The usual?" Your supervisor questioned.

You raised your head tiredly, knowing that phrase by now. It was the handsome man from your first day. He only appeared every now and then to either pick something up or to do into the freezer. If not him, then one of his men.

"Number two, zero, nine, nine."

"Yes, sir."

That was a code you still couldn't memorize. Once your supervisor left, you slowly turned to place your wrapped meat into the display case. Your gaze focused on the handsome man before you, captivated by his intense stare. You could feel your heart race as it felt like he was glaring into your soul.

----------

Miguel had entered the supermarket, wanting to grab a quick bite to eat. He was in the area and wanted to escape his lackeys. They were about to have a meeting with another mafia gang, but Miguel had no intension of making peace.

Approaching the deli, Miguel inhaled deeply. It was busy and loud. He tilted his head, looking for the shy bunny, aka you. Once he spotted you, Miguel furrowed his brows. He approached the supervisor, demanding his usual. Once the Supervisor left, Miguel got a better look at you.

You faced him and froze. Those wide glossy eyes of yours had a wave of exhaustion. Your skin looked paler despite the redness of your cheeks. Miguel could see you tremble as you made eye contact with him. Your face turning even redder. It made him chuckle. Miguel was both amused and annoyed.

"You've gotten thinner, conejita (bunny). Are you not eating properly?" Miguel asked out of concern. Your lips parted ever so slightly,

"N-Not...um...N-Not really...B-But that's m-my fault." You whispered, shaking from his pressence.

Miguel's eyes widen as he finally heard your soft and sweet voice. It was like honey to his ears. You were so quiet that he almost didn't hear you either. Miguel watched as you played with your fingers, your sleeves rubber banded against your wrists. He furrowed his brows, wondering why they weren't rolled up any higher.

"What's your name?" Miguel asked. You flinched, glancing up at him again,

"(Y/N)." You answered.

"So sorry, sir! She's still learning the ropes here!" The Supervisor panicked as he rushed over with Miguel's order. Miguel nearly shot him a glare,

"I spoke to her first." He said and returned his gaze towards you, "It was a pleasure, (Y/N). Until next time."

----------

You felt your breathing return to normal as Miguel parted you with a goodbye. The way your name rolled off his tongue sounded so sweet. It almost made your heart flutter. Almost. Your fear of him was far greater than admiring him.

Returning to work, you couldn't get Miguel off your mind. You had known his name for a while, but now he finally knew yours. That and he even noticed that you lost weight. Not even your closest friends or family noticed back home. Your shoulders sunk at the thought. Were you losing too much weight now?

It was hard. You always got home tired and didn't feel like doing much of anything. Whenever you did manage to make food, it was something simple and unhealthy. This lifestyle wasn't working out for you. Perhaps you needed to schedule a doctor's appointment and get professional advice?

"M-Maybe...I'll do that...later." He mumbled to yourself.

-----------

Miguel made his way out of the supermarket, still thinking about you. He entered his vehicle, letting his driver take him back to his headquarters. You were so shy. Not like any of the other girls. Leaning back in his seat, Miguel glanced over to the woman whom he fucked earlier that day.

What did he have to do to hear your moans? You weren't going to give him anything fake. Miguel resisted a chuckle as he licked his lips at the thought. His cock buried deep into your shaking body. Your moans coming out almost pornographic as he ravished you. Oh, the thought couldn't be anymore sweeter.

"Parece que tengo un conejito que cazar. (Looks like I have a bunny to hunt.)"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline

[futureplayboibunnie]

Heartless Pt. 3

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’hara x fem!reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

are we…lowkey…getting somewhere?

The flight wasn't as grueling as you thought it would've been, it was an eight-hour nonstop flight and you were lucky you went at night. You stared blankly out of the window, blinking at the stars. You didn't even realize that you were drifting away softly, your lashes fluttered and drooped and then everything went black, the soft hum of the jet reverberating in your ears as you slipped to sleep, sleeping for a dreamless night with your head in the literal clouds.

Miguel was quite literally nocturnal. He could never sleep at night, even if he wanted to and even if he tried. He pulled out his laptop and started working, going over some cooked-up books that his crooked accountant had given him. Maybe he was paranoid by triple-checking everything, he had gone through your background check multiple times and it still didn't feel enough, he still didn't feel like it was accurate to the character you were playing for him. Like a facade. Miguel was absorbed in his work, he didn't realize a few hours passed already. He still wasn't tired, and he wanted to avoid sleeping deeply for as long as he could- he couldn't be in a position where his bad dreams could get at him again. He frowned at the startling thought and downed the last of his Merlot. Your soft breathing made him break away for a moment, his head shifted to look at you and you were sound asleep. Your head rested to the side of you away from him and your hair was covering your face. Miguel hesitantly reached his hand to stroke away the strands that were blocking out your features, maybe he just wanted to check if you weren't awake, or maybe he just wanted to gawk at you without the consequence of your smart mouth or belittling stare- either way, he couldn't stop his fingers from brushing the hair away from your face. You breathed deeply and mumbled something incoherent that Miguel couldn't comprehend, Miguel felt you shift in your seat. He immediately retracted his hand, brows knitting together as he studied what you looked like in your natural form, when you weren't pretending to be someone else.

Again. He thought you looked nice. Miguel grunted softly at his ceaseless gaping, he was being ridiculous, staring at an attractive woman as if he'd never seen one before. He won't succumb to something as juvenile as this, his pressures lie elsewhere and he won't let his confusion around you cloud his thoughts to things that matter more. If he was being completely honest with himself, he needed some sort of vacation- he had grown tired of being on edge back home, looking over his shoulder, making sure to preserve what was his. How was he supposed to become more powerful and spread his influence if he was still looking after what he already had? It was startling for him to be in control of so many things at once, but as always, he pushed it down. There were still a few hours before you landed and Miguel didn't want to be engrossed by work anymore, he wasn't paying attention to it. He decided to pull out a book he still hadn't finished reading, he hadn't had time to indulge in such normal trivial things as reading. There were moments when you stirred and twisted in your sleep, surely you weren't comfortable in heels and a tight little dress but Miguel didn't want to meddle with you further. He's done more than enough.

-

“Hey.“

A soft gentle voice made your eyes scrunch.

“Hey, wake up. We're here.” The voice urged again.

Your lashes fluttered when you finally realized that it was Miguel. And that it was also Miguel who was had his hand on your face. You jolted awake, Miguel was next to you but it felt like he was so far away, you didn't realize how little it took for him to extend an arm and brush his fingers against you. The moonlight beamed through the pane, your groggy vision turning into a beautiful portrait of Miguel, illuminating every single feature of him, his brown hair turning honey as the Italian moon hit him perfectly. You shook your head and raised yourself on your seat, still not understanding how you could fall asleep in something so heinously uncomfortable, and even then you still resumed being graceful as always, you wouldn't let that appearance shatter, especially in front of Miguel. His presence itself didnt bother you but what went on in his head did.

Speaking of, Miguel's mind was whirring away but it drew to a blank

There was one thing he wanted to say though; 'Is this what we're doing? Just not talking to each other?’ Well. He preferred that to that polite small talk, you both kept on upholding, the thought made his skin crawl.

-

The drive to the complex was silent as per usual, but this time it was Miguel who was driving and you were in the front seat. His cars were expensive, his Audi RS Q8 wasn't an exception, it was a sinful amplification of the word money. You settled into the passenger seat, trying not to inspect every single inch of his car like a lost tourist, awing at the model but you contained it, your face expresser something akin to that of being unimpressed and uninterested, when in fact you were the complete opposite. The fact that you had to act this way just to not give Miguel the satisfaction wasn't difficult but inconvenient. You wanted to be yourself, but you didn't want to seem weak in front of him, you won't let that happen. Ever.

You breathed out, your fingers smoothing against the seatbelt, reminding you of the way he so easily trapped you in the plane, that hand keeping you in place. You couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched you like that, well, anyone who even touched you at all in the last few months. Your eyes couldn't help but glance over at him, sneaky eyes trailing over him, almost thickening the distance and tension between you- he was right here, but a million miles away. Miguel's hand slid over the wheel seamlessly, but you noticed his knuckles turning white as he gripped onto it. His jaw ticked as he let out a short frustrated breath, his gaze nothing more than penetrating as he glared at the window, completely unamused- his autopilot mood.

If only he wasn't blinded by rage and other primitive and frankly boring emotions- it was so predictable that it didn't phase you. You pursed your lips and stared outside the window, pensive and aloof as the night clouded your peripheral. the bleak darkness you were gazing at, seemed to reflect Miguel's mood more than anything and you didn't know how to confront this deep tension between you that was certainly getting thicker and thicker. Then your mouth ran before you could check it.

"You'll break it.”You said flatly, brimming with confidence by the way you squared your shoulders, surprised by your own voice thrumming out of your throat.

Miguel's head shifted to regard you. Oh wow, the church mouse finally roars. The fact that you're saying something at all, let alone something in a knowing tone made him halt in his tracks. You seemed so sure of yourself like you knew exactly what he could do. Like you had any idea who he was. Aw, honey. You didn't know anything. You needed to stop pretending like you did

"Hm?” Miguel mumbled impatiently, waiting for you to elaborate on your not-so-graceful statement.

“Don't grip so hard on the wheel. You'll break it.” You replied as if you were bored out of your mind, Miguel despised it entirely. His eyes turned into mere slits when they found his knuckles turning a pale white against the wheel, his veins turning thunderous and borderline pulsating with resigned anger he was used to but now since you pointed it out, he was becoming more aware of his actions than he was happy with. Miguel mostly kept to himself, but primitive emotions such as anger or frustration, creeped out of him slowly and etched at his features like a lingering poison.

"Hm. I see the only time you open your mouth is to critique me.” He replied with a soft snarl.

“I'm not criticizing you. I just don't want this ludicrously expensive car to break under your thumb.”

“I can afford another 10 of these.” Miguel's words ran off his tongue so smoothly you realized the point he was proving: he was extremely wealthy, he didn't need to care about things. It's something that you shouldn't forget. Miguel doesn't conserve material things, why should he? You shouldn't expect him to want to take care of his possessions, though you didn't realize how careless he actually was with it. you wouldn't have guessed a man as arrogant and careful as him within his work and his business to be so callous with his money, but then again- the money spent on a new car is a mere droplet within a river of riches. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. You shot him a glare and that's when he muttered flatly, “Don't ever question that again, we clear?”

"Hm. And also, I have a brain and a mouth. When I don't want to talk I won't talk, I don't need to fill the silence with empty words, if I want to talk or call you out on something I will. Just because I don't entertain petty or better yet polite conversation doesn't mean I'm a wallflower or taker of shit, we clear?”

Miguel's face was set in an uncrackable scowl, his jaw ticked as you talked to him in such a patronizing way, it may have been deserved or it may have been a clear indication of your intentions- but either way, he didn't like the way you were talking.

“Careful.”

“We may be married but I will not answer to yo-“

He cut you off sternly with his hand reaching out and gripping your cheeks to close your mouth, it was a warning, the way he stared at you proved that, his hand proved harsher. “I said careful.” You let out a frustrated breath, struggling with your hands on his to pry his iron-like fingers off of your cheeks and chin. Miguel felt you struggle in your seat, hissing and thrashing but he remained unaffected, so completely normal about it all as he kept driving. He released his grip on you and you breathed out deeply, flashing him a look of surprise and hatred. He had a tendency to make people this way and he revelled in it. “Smart mouth...All bark, no bite….it can only get you so far. Remember that the next time you wanna try and lay into me Cariño.”

-

You remained embittered with Miguel when you got to the beachside apartment complex, you slammed the car door shut harshly, seemingly acting like him for not caring for his little playthings. If he didn’t care, why should you? He could tell by that look on your face you wouldn't be all polite and graceful after what he did. You didn't help him with the bags, you didn't care. The doorman let you in, informing you that the complex would be all yours for the week as he gave you the key. Miguel trudged behind you, carrying the bags up the stairs like they were feathers. You slammed the door in his face but he knee stopped it from closing fully, he knew that you were trying to prove a point and it was dancing on his nerves.

“I’m taking a shower and going to bed. Don’t even think about interrupting me for anything.” You spat out lowly, irritation causing your brows to knit together slightly. Miguel just grunted in response, dropping the bags on the floor gracelessly.

He hadn’t been to this beach house in a while, although it was thoroughly cleaned, it still felt lived in from when he was a kid living here with his family. Miguel didn’t know how to feel about the fond and somewhat nostalgic thought. Then his eyes flicked to the glass cabinet in the corner of the living room. He stepped closer and found the thoroughly familiar photos of him and Gabriel, playing. Careless as ever. He scoffed slightly with a little smile touching at his lips. It was a lot easier back then.

Now he has to deal with a pissed off wife, with a pretty mouth.

You explored the hallway first, walking down and vaguely peeping into every room, but you reached the master bedroom by the end of the hallway. You opened the door and found a beautiful room with a marble layout and wooden details, the balcony you stepped into was slightly protruding, looking out into the grassy planes, sandy beaches and palm trees. Something out of novel. The iron bars were covered in ivy and vines, shrubs and bushes of plenty alonside even more greenery. The moon shone onto the waves hauntingly, creating a halo onto the Earth.

It really was beautiful.

You shifted your head, raising an eyebrow at how big the white bed was, but you didn’t read into it. It’ll be just like it was at home- you and Miguel in seperate rooms, like always. Your heels clicked to the en suite and Jesus Christ, it was huge. Your eyes gleamed from corner to corner of the room, and then you reached the sink and immediately rolled your eyes.

Of course the best room in the building had to be Miguel’s.

There was a tiny frame sitting at the corner of his sink. It was of him holding Gabriel as a newborn, your vision turned sharp as you inspected the photo. Well. Miguel definitely had his boyish charm back then, a shame he doesn’t have it now. His smile would always remain a mystery to you. You settled the frame down and instead you eyed the copous bottles of cologne he had. Each more expensive than the last, as always.

Instead of just gawking around like a fool, you turned the shower on and immediately started stripping of this dress and heels you’ve been subjected too, you grabbed a fresh white towel and threw it to hand over the glass sliding door. You slipped in the shower, letting the warm water travel down every aching sore muscles, you hadn’t been this relieved in a long time.

Miguel, on the other hand, poured himself another incredibly strong scotch, he really needed to absolve himself of…something. He raked an exhausted hand over his face, he grabbed the whole bottle alongside the glass and trudged to his room begrudgingly, hoping to be rid of this night.

You wanted to keep the shower as brief as possible just so you could slip into bed sooner. Fuck. You didn’t bring your bag in here with you. Your shampoo was in it. Shit. You had to make do with what was around you, well, lucky for you, you only had Miguel’s shampoo around. With a defeated sigh, you had to go for it. As if this could get any worse.

You opened up the bottle and raised it to your nose, it smelled…dark? Cederwood. Coffee? Maybe a little bit of vanilla. That was just picking it apart, as a whole it the scent of it was just so… Miguel. Extra thickening? Interesting. Without caring, you squirted some into your palm and lathered it together with your hands, quickly soaking your hair and rubbing it softly into your scalp.

The bubbles surrounding you made the aroma that much more…intense.

Miguel heard the sound of the shower coming from his room, he wanted to grit his teeth until they shattered and fell into his hands. A frission of irritation thrummed at his temple. He swung open his bedroom door hurriedly with the might of one hand and exclaimed, “I swear to God if you’re in here I’m gonna-“

His feet stopped in their tracks. His mind went blank at what he was seeing. He was surprised he didn’t drop his damn scotch.

You going through his wardrobe in a tiny towel, legs dripping and glowing, hair wet and messy, glaring at him with a certain blank apprehension. Almost like a deer in headlights, but what could Miguel say? He was looking at you the exact same way.

-

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[madlittlecriminal]

[INTRO] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: mention of robbery, mention of Miguel missing breakfast, mention of Miguel being used for homework

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

To say his day was rough, was an understatement.

He felt as though no one paid attention to him for the simple fact that every little thing had gone wrong. It was worse when he got told one of his clubs got robbed by none other than Osbron's little crew.

If Miguel was being honest, he needed a damn drink. Unfortunately, he had a meeting with his Alchemax team in about an hour, so drinking was out of the question; he'd have to wait until after to have a drink, but he didn't really mind it as much.

He stepped out of the club after reviewing the damage, relieved that no one was hurt and that his rule was followed: give them the money as a life means more than cash. Plus, they robbed him on a slow night, so he lost about three grand in total from his bartenders' tips and the money from drinks. He simply reimbursed them and told them he makes more than that in an hour, so he didn't care.

He fixed his ruby colored sunglasses as his eyes traveled to the bakery across the street from his club. He tilted his head to the side, confused as to how he's never seen it before. "Is that bakery new?"He asked one of the bartenders at his club who shook her head with a grin.

"Depends on what your definition of new is, boss. It's been there since you hired me, and I've been working here for three years." Miguel's brows furrowed as she explained it to him.

"How am I just now noticing it?"

"Easy. You come to the club at 12 am. The bakery closes at 11pm."

"Why so late?"

"Because the ovens are cold by then. We're her last customers. Remember that concha Lyla gave you?" He nods. "It's from there. She does desserts from all over the world. She's talented." With that, the bartender takes her leave. Miguel tilts his head to the side before heading across the street and into the bakery. His nose is hit with the delicious scent of baked goods, some bringing him back to his childhood when his mother would bake for him and his brother Gabriel.

"I'll be with you in a sec!" You called out from where he believed was the kitchen. He doesn't respond, too focused on the orejas and the many pan finos you had. He took note of the flan, apple pies, banana bread, muffins, macarons, and more. His stomach growled, remembering he missed breakfast.

Then you appeared, flour on your cheeks and on your burgundy apron. You gave him a kind smile and he took off his sunglasses, putting them away and getting a better look at you from the natural sunlight that broke through from the window of your bakery. Were you real?

"How can I help you, sir?" His heart raced as his breathing hitched slightly. His palms were clammy with sweat, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the rush of nerves that entered his body or the heat from the bakery. Wait, was it hot in here?

"Uh...hi. C-can I get a piece of..." Miguel didn't trust himself to finish the sentence as he resorted to pointing at the stack of conchas. The last time he remembered being this nervous around a girl was back in high school when the cheerleader asked him for his help on biology homework. Unfortunately, he also remembers that she only flirted with him to get her homework done. He was glad they didn't have science together after that as he went to AP Chemistry the following year.

You smiled and nodded. "Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?"

Once again, he didn't trust his voice so only pointed at the chocolate one.

"How many?"

He held up two fingers and you nodded. "Alright. Your total is $4.25. Cash or card?" You put the conchas in a bag as you waited for a response.

"Cash." He handed you a 20-dollar bill and took the bag. "Keep the change. Don't need a receipt." He quickly rushed out of the bakery without another word.

You stood there with the 20 bucks in hand, blinking down at the register in confusion. You put the cash in the register and put the receipt down. "Well, that wasn't weird at all." You mumble to yourself before heading back to the kitchen to check on the rasgulla you had cooling down.

———

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