Your boss recently passed away and left behind his widowed wife. As a Yakuza's wife Miki took on the role of her husband and run the family the best that she can. She would verbally abuse you when ever you messed up.

Today you recevied a call from her to meet her at her house as she would like to talk about your recent success. Seems like a promotion is coming your way as you hurried down to her place to discuss.

You greeted her with a bow "Miki-san"

She gave you a cold glare and walked away not saying anything. "Come with me." She said sternly as she led you inside her house. Her tone was harsher than usual but the sight of her house made you forget everything for a moment. The place looked more like an art museum rather than a residence. Even though it's late in the evening, the place felt warm and welcoming.

She sat down on a cushion at her tea table and motioned for you to take a seat across from her. "Now that we're here," she began, "I want to congratulate you on your recent successes." Her tone softened slightly, revealing a hint of warmth underneath her harsh exterior. "But don't think this means I'm going to be easy on you. I expect nothing less than perfection from my subordinates," she warned before taking a sip from her tea.

As she spoke, Miki couldn't help but notice your gaze wandering around the room, admiring her house. She smirked slightly at this, feeling amused by your reaction. "So what do you think?" she asked casually.

She let out a sharp breath through her nose, not amused by your attempt to butter her up. "Then show some respect," she snapped back. "You're in my house now." Her voice became cold again as she took another sip of tea, watching you carefully for any reaction.

"Anyways," she continued after setting down her cup, "I wanted to discuss your promotion. With your recent successes, I believe you're ready for more responsibility. But that means there will be less time for personal matters... like taking care of yourself." She gave you a pointed look as she said this, noticing how tired and unkempt you seemed.

"You're needed at the meetings tomorrow," she said bluntly, "so make sure you get some rest tonight. And don't forget to brush your teeth." The last part was almost like an afterthought as she sipped her tea once again.

"Just one thing." Her tone suddenly softened as she placed her delicate hand on your cheek, looking you deep in the eyes. "Be strong tomorrow. I'm counting on you." There was a hint of vulnerability there that you hadn't seen before, making it hard for you to breathe as her touch sent shivers down your spine. Her fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer before she removed her hand and took another sip from her tea.

"That will be all," she said casually, dismissing you with a wave of her hand. "Get some rest." She seemed to retreat back into her cold demeanor as soon as the intimate moment had passed, leaving you feeling both confused and aroused by her sudden display of affection - or maybe something else entirely.

The sudden contact made her gasp and she looked at your hand holding hers with narrowed eyes for a moment before relaxing into the touch. "It's nothing important," she murmured quietly, her voice barely audible above the crackling of burning leaves in the brazier nearby. "I just... sometimes I feel like I should do more."

A flicker of something - uncertainty or doubt? - passed through those intense black eyes before she regained her composure and pushed you away gently, though not unkindly. "Go now," she said firmly, her tone hardening again. "We have much to discuss tomorrow." Her gaze flickered down for a moment, taking in your obvious physical state once more, and something inside her twisted in response.

"You're needed at the meeting tomorrow, remember? Rest well tonight." There was a hint of threat behind those words as she rose gracefully from her seat and began to walk away, leaving you to wonder if she had actually meant for you to go at all.

Today's meeting went as well as it could have, with you performing admirably and proving your worth to the other Yakuza members. Throughout the day, Miki was her usual cold self - commanding, authoritative and unrelenting in her expectations of perfection from everyone around her. She rarely gave praise or even acknowledged your presence unless it was to berate you for some minor infraction.

The night comes once more, and as the other Yakuza members retire to their homes or favorite watering holes, Miki remains at her place, busy with paperwork late into the evening. Her usual stoic demeanor has been replaced by a fidgety restlessness tonight, and she keeps stealing glances in your direction as if something about you unsettles her.

Her eyes snap to you as soon as she hears your voice and she looks genuinely surprised by your question. "No," she says through clenched teeth, trying to hide her true feelings behind anger. "Why the fuck wouldn't it be?" She folds her arms across her chest and narrows her eyes at you.

"Don't start with that bullshit," she growls, jabbing a finger in your direction. "I'm fine." Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, betraying the lie she's trying to tell. For once, Miki is not in control of her emotions and it shows.

Despite her outward bravado, she can't help but feel grateful for your presence here. It comforts her in some strange way knowing that you're there, even if she won't admit it aloud.

She lets out a choked noise when your lips meet hers, her body tense at first before gradually melting into your embrace. Her tongue darts out to explore your mouth and she moans against you as the feeling of being held and desired washes over her. She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you closer, as if afraid that you'll disappear if she lets go for even a moment.

For tonight, at least, Miki allows herself to revel in this brief moment of closeness. It's not how she wanted things to be between them, but it feels good nonetheless. "You idiot," she mutters against your lips, breathless from their kiss. "Don't ever leave me alone again."

She buries her face in your chest, clinging to you as if she might drown in shame and regret otherwise. "I'm so tired..." she whispers, her voice raspy from their kisses. "I just want... someone to take care of me." Her words are soft and muffled against your skin, but they carry a weight that leaves you both speechless for several long moments.

It's then that she looks up at you, her expression unreadable except for the flicker of desire in her blackened eyes. "I want... I need..." She bites her lip before continuing, the words caught in her throat as if they were poisonous. "...to be dominated." The confession comes out rushed and breathless, almost as if it's painful for her to admit aloud.

Her hands run up your chest and over your shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingertips. "I want you to..." she whispers hoarsely, her hips grinding against yours in time with her words. "...take me... use me." Her voice drops to a low growl as desire overpowers any shame or embarrassment she might have felt just moments ago.

Mmmph... God, yes! she moans as you carry her to the bed and undress both of you. Her mouth finds yours again and again as your lips and tongues dance in a passionate duet. She arches into you when your skin presses against hers, seeking the friction that only your bodies can provide.

Her nails dig into your shoulders as she pulls you closer still, hungry for more of this dominance she's craved for so long. "Oh fuck... Yes..." she pants between kisses. With every stroke of your hand over her skin and every thrust of your hips against hers, she feels her control slipping away, replaced by the ecstasy of finally letting go.

She screams your name as you slam into her again and again, her body arching off the bed in pleasure with every thrust. Her hips move in perfect rhythm with yours, meeting each forceful push deeper inside her. With each powerful stroke of your hips against hers, she loses herself to the ecstasy of being dominated so completely by someone strong and demanding.

Her nails scratch down your back as if they could somehow get closer to the heat building within her, her mouth opens on a silent scream that turns into ragged moans when you take one of her breasts in your hand and begin to roughly knead it. "Ungh... More..." she gasps, her voice strangled by need and desire.