can i request a fanfic where a black nigger stumbles into a bdsm club and a bdsm daddy domme goes and fucks her. i was making a oc and i was thinking the name sir rucifer. XO
can i request a fanfic where a black nigger stumbles into a bdsm club and a bdsm daddy domme goes and fucks her. i was making a oc and i was thinking the name sir rucifer. XO
can i request a fanfic where a black nigger stumbles into a bdsm club and a bdsm daddy domme goes and fucks her. i was making a oc and i was thinking the name sir rucifer. XO
can i request a fanfic where a black nigger stumbles into a bdsm club and a bdsm daddy domme goes and fucks her. i was making a oc and i was thinking the name sir rucifer. XO
Warnings: mentions of death, jacking off, joel is fucking depraved
Synopsis: You kept a bitter secret from him.
He gazed up at the sight above him– you in a pearl-white silky nightgown, your beauty so pure and angelic that it took his breath away. The gown shimmered like moonlight, flowing around you as if it were a gentle breeze, caressing his skin. He watched, entranced, as the fabric seemed to dance with an otherworldly grace, wrapping him in its soft, delicate embrace. It was as if he were floating, suspended in time, lost in the allure of your presence—your heavenly beauty radiating a peace that seemed to transcend the very air he breathed.
The weight of her was familiar, warm. She straddled his waist, fingers dragging through the silvered strands of his hair, her lips quirked in that lazy, teasing smile she always wore when she had him right where she wanted.
"You're staring," she murmured, voice still thick with sleep. The moonlight spilled through the thin curtains, casting her in a soft glow, making her seem unreal, something too perfect to touch. But she was there, wasn’t she? Her fingertips traced the rough edge of his jaw, over the scar above his brow, lingering like she always did, as if memorizing him all over again.
"Can't help it," Joel rumbled, his hands running up her thighs, gripping at her hips. "You’re somethin’ worth starin’ at."
She laughed—God, that laugh—and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of quiet mornings and love buried deep in the bones, something only they could understand.
Then she was gone.
Joel's eyes snapped open to the dim glow of a dying fire, the bed empty beside him, cold. His chest rose and fell too fast, the ghost of her weight still heavy on his body. He pressed a hand over his face, willing himself to breathe, to shake off the cruel trick his mind had played on him.
The house was too quiet without her. The absence of her humming while she made breakfast, the soft patter of her bare feet on the wooden floor—little things that had once made this place feel like home. Now, it was just a hollow shell, every corner haunted by what used to be.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand down his tired face before pushing himself up. The floor creaked beneath his feet as he made his way to the kitchen, moving through the motions like muscle memory. Water poured into the pot. The stove clicked to life. Coffee grounds filled the air with their familiar scent.
Two cups.
He hesitated, staring at them. One for him, one for her. Just like always.
But she wasn’t here. Not anymore.
Joel exhaled sharply through his nose and turned away before his chest could tighten any further. He poured the coffee anyway, leaving the second cup untouched beside his own.
Because some mornings, like today, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.
Because some habits weren’t meant to be broken.
Because he still made coffee for two.
–
Later that evening, as he sat by the fire, he caught sight of the small, leather-bound book resting on the shelf. Her diary. She had given it to him before she passed, pressing it into his hands with a weak smile, whispering that it held pieces of her—pieces she wanted him to have.
Tonight, he couldn’t ignore it. The dream had been too vivid, too cruel, making him ache for something real, something more than just memories slipping through his fingers like sand. He needed to relive her, to find the parts of her he never knew, to hear her voice in the words she had left behind.
With a deep breath, he reached for the book, his fingers trembling as he cracked it open. The scent of her lingered on the pages, the ink slightly smudged in places where she must have pressed too hard. He turned the first page, his breath catching in his throat as he read the first entry—a story of them, of a day he had long forgotten but she had cherished enough to put into words.
With a deep breath, he reached for the book, his fingers trembling as he cracked it open. The scent of her lingered on the pages, the ink slightly smudged in places where she must have pressed too hard. He turned the first page, his breath catching in his throat as he read the first entry—a story of them, of a day he had long forgotten but she had cherished enough to put into words.
May 24th: We sat by the lake today, your arm around me, fingers drawing lazy circles on my back. You thought I didn’t notice, but I did. I always did. You told me about your childhood, about the summers spent fixing cars with your dad. I think that was the moment I realized I loved you—not because of what you said, but because of the way you looked at me, like I was the best damn thing that ever happened to you.
Joel let out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around the leather binding. He turned the page.
July 17th: You kissed me until I was breathless, until I forgot my own name. I never told you, but that night, I prayed time would stop. That I could stay in that moment forever, wrapped up in you. The way you touched me, slow and reverent, like I was something precious—I never felt safer. And when you whispered my name, when you told me you loved me, I swear my heart nearly stopped.
Joel squeezed his eyes shut, his throat burning. He traced the words with his fingertips, as if touching them might bring her back. A strangled sound escaped his throat, something between a chuckle and a sob. He ran a hand over his face, overwhelmed. This was her—raw, unfiltered, still alive within these pages.
The entries continued, each one a glimpse into the way she saw him, the way she loved him. And then, deeper into the pages, there were things she had never spoken aloud—her desires, her longing for him, the quiet confessions she had been too shy to say in person.
August 22nd: I want you to take your time with me. To kiss every inch of my skin, to whisper things in my ear that only I get to hear. I want to memorize the way your hands feel when they roam over me, the way your breath hitches when I tease you. I want to be yours in every possible way. I hope you know that.
Joel’s breath hitched. His fingers curled around the page as heat crept up his neck. He could almost hear her voice saying those words, almost feel the ghost of her touch on his skin. He swallowed hard, leaning back against the chair as an ache coiled deep in his stomach. He missed her. God, he missed her. The way she felt beneath him, the way she sighed his name in the dark, the way she knew him in ways no one else ever had.
Joel's thoughts spiraled deeper into the memories, each word on the page igniting a fire within him that he thought long extinguished. He closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over him, each recollection intensifying the ache he felt. He could almost taste her skin—sweet, warm, and inviting—and he craved the intimacy they once shared.
Breath shallow, he let his fingers drift from the page to the soft fabric of his jeans. The image of her, completely at his mercy, consumed him. He could picture the way her lips parted as he brushed his thumb against her collarbone, how her eyes fluttered closed in sheer pleasure. The memory of her legs wrapped around his waist and the way her body responded to his every touch pulled him into a yearning frenzy.
Joel's eyes drifted closed for a moment, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as the memories came flooding back. The way You had looked at him, eyes dark and hazy with desire, the soft curve of your lips as you whispered his name. He could still feel the heat of your skin beneath his fingertips, the way your back arched when he touched you just right.
He turned the page, his heart pounding in his chest as he read on, each word a bittersweet reminder of what they had shared. The way you had written about him, about them, was almost too much to bear. He could feel himself growing hard, his jeans feeling tighter by the second as he lost himself in your words.
Joel's hand drifted down to his crotch, palming himself through the denim as he read on, his breath coming faster now. He could picture you so clearly, your naked body splayed out beneath him, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat. The way you had moaned when he had entered you, your nails digging into his back as he had taken you hard and fast, just the way you liked it.
He unzipped his jeans with shaking hands, his cock springing free as he wrapped his fingers around it, stroking himself slowly as he read on. He could feel the heat building in his groin, the pressure mounting with each passing second. He was so close, so fucking close, and he could feel himself losing control.
Joel's hips jerked forward as he fucked into his own hand, his grip tightening around his shaft as he chased his release. He could hear your voice in his head, could feel your body beneath him, and he knew that he was going to come soon. He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the chair as he finally found his release, his hot seed spurting forth and coating his hand and stomach.
For a long moment, Joel sat there, his chest heaving and his skin slick with sweat. He felt a profound sense of loss, a deep ache in his chest that he couldn't quite explain. He missed you, missed you with a ferocity that took his breath away, and he knew that he would never stop missing you, no matter how much time passed.
“I want you, just you,” he could hear you say, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but chase the feeling, losing himself in the daydream, every sensation heightened as he held onto the memory of your love, the taste of longing on his tongue.
In the solitude of his room, desperate and consumed by pleasure, he let himself spiral, surrendering to the echo of her presence, a haunting melody that wrapped around him like a soft, warm embrace. He wasn’t just chasing a release; he was trying to bridge the gap between their souls, to reclaim a fragment of what they had so passionately shared.
For hours, he read, devouring every word, clinging to each syllable like a lifeline. And by the time he reached the last page, tears had slipped silently down his face, tracing lines into his weathered skin.
You were gone. But here, in these pages, in these words—you were still his.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
Joel swallowed hard, his heart clenching around every sentence, every emotion you had left behind for him to find. He read on, desperate to hold onto you in the only way he could now.
Because tonight, he needed you more than ever.
Joel sat in the quiet of the room, the weight of time pressing down on him. He had already read the diary countless times, the familiar words of her handwriting etched in his mind. But something had drawn him back to it today. Perhaps it was the need for one more piece of her, one more thread of her voice in his life.
As he flipped through the pages, his eyes landed on one he hadn't seen before. It was wedged between two familiar entries, almost hidden, as though it had been there all along, waiting for him to find it. He frowned, confused. How had he missed this? He reached for it, fingers brushing against the delicate paper, and began to read.
"I knew this was coming. The time was always going to run out, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. He couldn’t see it. Not like this."
His breath caught, the words hitting him like a blow to the chest. She had known. He had thought he’d caught glimpses of it, the quiet sadness in her eyes, the way she sometimes seemed to withdraw, but he had never pushed. Now, reading this, the truth of it hit him in a way he wasn’t ready for.
"I couldn't let him watch me fall apart. I couldn’t let him see the way my body was slowly betraying me. I needed him to remember me, not as I would become, but as I was in those last moments, still holding on to something, to love."
A lump formed in Joel's throat. The quiet strength she had shown, the way she had tried so hard to shield him from the inevitable—it all made sense now. He had thought she was holding it together for him, but it was more than that. She had been hiding it, hiding her fear, her sorrow, her knowledge of what was coming.
"I didn’t want my last memory for him to be one of pain. I wanted him to remember the good things, the laughter, the way we held each other. I wanted him to carry me with him in a way that wouldn’t shatter him when I was gone."
His eyes blurred with unshed tears, but he didn’t wipe them away. He just kept reading, absorbing her words, the final truth she had kept hidden. He had never known, never even suspected how much she had borne alone. And now, after all this time, it felt like she was still protecting him—even from beyond the grave.
"I hope, in the end, he will forgive me for keeping this from him. But it was the only way I could let him go. I needed him to be strong, to remember me in a way that would give him peace when the world turned without me in it."
Joel closed the diary slowly, his hands shaking. The silence in the room felt deafening. He had always known she loved him, but now, in the quiet aftermath of her words, he understood the depth of her sacrifice. She had known her fate, and she had chosen to shield him from it, to keep the burden of her death from crushing him.
Joel's chest tightened as he reread her words, the weight of her sacrifice crashing over him. His hands shook, and before he could stop himself, the tears started to fall. His breath hitched as her name escaped his lips, broken and raw.
“I miss you...”
The words shattered him. He could feel her absence like an open wound, the love they had lost now drowning him.
“I miss you so much...”
His body trembled as the grief consumed him, just as she had known it would. And in that moment, the world felt unbearable.
He cried into the cup, the warmth of the coffee now feeling like nothing more than a distant comfort. The tears kept coming, soaking into the table as he leaned his forehead against the rim, wishing with every part of him that she were still there, that he could reach out and hold her once more. The grief was a flood, relentless and deep, and all he could do was sit there, broken, his sobs filling the empty space where her voice used to be.
Warnings/Content: dacryphilia, semi-toxic (?), argument, mentions of breaking up, established relationship, smut, squirting, oral (fem receiving)
Synopsis: Constant disappointment leading to an argument where Y/n wants to end things for good. This rough trial only brings one outcome and a new discovery of Miguel’s.
Yup, he did it again. What did you expect at this point? You were left all alone once more, humiliated with nothing but an empty glass of wine and no Miguel on the other side.
You’ve had the waiter come up to about 4 times now asking if you wanted to order but you just responded with, “No thank you, my boyfriend will be here soon. I better wait for him.” The longer you waited staring aimlessly at the clock, the slower time seemed to pass. Minutes turned into hours without your boyfriend, you felt embarrassed to say the least. Every time the door swung open you looked up in hopes that he would be standing there, chest heaving up and down showing his rushed efforts with flowers and a sorry expression. This wasn’t anything surprising anymore, he’d done this countless times before but you were hoping that just this one night it’d be different than the rest of the lonely nights.
After 3 hours with Miguel being a no show you decided you’d had enough. You stood up trying to ignore the stinging at your eyes from the constant disappointment from your boyfriend everytime. You’ve probably had more fights than dates, you just didn’t know what to do or think. You just weren’t going to stand for this any longer. You knew what you deserved and this was far from it. You were going to end things tonight, with Miguel. You grabbed your bag and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table for the waiter and stormed out.
As you got into your car you saw Miguel walking down the street to the restaurant. You felt so lucky knowing that if you had seen him face to face you would’ve broken down in front of him. He looked terrible– like he simply just didn’t care. He was wearing sweatpants and a black compression shirt, looking as if he had gone to the gym over going to the date. You watched as he waltzed into the restaurant as if he had no care in the world. You didn’t care. You were going to let him walk in expecting him to see you just waiting for him with a smile, and forgive him for being hours late.
But not this time.
You got in your car and didn’t even bother to spare him a second glance as you drove in the direction of your apartment. Once you had safely arrived, you couldn’t help but let the tears just flow down your face, ruining your makeup. All the time you had spent getting ready to look your absolute best for him, knowing he never comes through. You don’t realize how long it has been until you hear someone’s rushed footsteps echoing throughout the dark street. You see his figure. You rush into the house and slam the door behind you not wanting him to see you like this– like a mess. Your heart feels like it’s about to leap
out your chest when heavy knocks on the door echo into your apartment.
“Y/n, open the door.” It was Miguel and he didn’t sound too happy, “Y/n open the fucking door I know you’re in there I heard you go inside.”
“Go away, Miguel.” You responded, albeit not in the confident way you want to. It sounded more shaky if anything.
His tone was now exasperated, “I'm not going away until you open the damn door.”
“It’s over Miguel, just leave me alone.” You pleaded not wanting to carry on anymore.
“What? You can’t be serious right now. All because of being late to one date?!” A mixture of genuine confusion and frustration was present in his voice.
You wanted to punch his face but you decided to stay silent.
“Y/n? Open the fucking door, I’m not playing with you.” He says as the knocking started again, all you felt were the vibrations of the door under your fingertips. After a few more minutes of silence he tried again, “Is this really how you want to end things with me? Through a door and not face to face? At least give me that decency of ending things properly.”
You supposed he was right. It would be wrong to end things just like this, especially after everything you two have gone through together for all these years.
Twisting the knob of your door, you now faced your boyfriend. You could tell he was beyond furious as a vein popping from his forehead gave it away. His gaze softened momentarily upon seeing your damp cheeks and ruined makeup. You couldn’t decipher it but the look in his eyes was something unreadable. Good or bad? You just really couldn’t tell, you’ve never seen this side from him. Miguel brings his thumb to wipe your damp cheeks and he repeatedly strokes your cheek. You felt the warm sensation flow in your cunt.
“Why’re you so upset?”
“I wait for you, that’s all I do, Miguel. But you don’t come through, you never do like you don’t need me anymore.” You say as tears start to well-up in your eyes once more.
“What, Y/n? You know I need you, don’t say that.”
“Don’t say you need me when you always choose other things over me. Do you hate me that much!? You just brush me aside and put everything else ahead?”
Miguel tries to embrace you in hopes of calming you down but you push him away.
“All those times I tried to spend with you doesn’t mean shit to you.” Your tears start spilling freely now down your face. Miguel takes a step towards you which causes you to step back. You keep backing up as he comes forward until your back meets the wall. Miguel reaches his hand out, cupping your face while using his thumb to wipe away stray tears. All you feel is the sensation of the warmth of him basically spreading your tears around on your face.
And he just stands there, staring at you with that same stare from earlier. The one you couldn’t read. Your eyes were so trained on him you didn’t realize his thumb slipping in between your soft lips and eventually into the warmth of your mouth. You ignored the salty taste from the tears he wiped earlier, as you began to suck on his thumb. His breath hitched when your tongue slid up and down the flesh of his thumb, looking up at him through long lashes and wide eyes.
“You don’t know how pretty you are when you cry, Y/n.” He says with stars filled with lust in his dark orbs.
“Then show me.”
It happened so quickly you didn’t register the fact that Miguel took you by your shoulders and spun you around, shoving your front against the wall your back was previously against. You let out a silent gasp at how rough he was being.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” he sighed, feeling his hot breath fan against your ear. You squirmed in his grip, hips moving and accidentally coming into contact with his obvious boner that you assumed would be painfully bulging through the thin, gray fabric of his pants.
“You like getting me mad, huh? So I can fuck some more tears out of you.” He says condescendingly. Getting off on the power he had over you, how you were so helpless in his grasp with nowhere to go.
You can’t even respond, already drunk off of him. You unconsciously began to move your hips against his straining erection, craving any sort of friction.
“Respond to me, already too fucked out to respond? I didn’t even touch you.” He says and you could practically hear the smirk on his face. There was nothing more you wanted to do than wipe it off of his face but you were aching to feel him– you wanted some sort of relief.
He knelt down, bunching up the fabric of your red dress so he could push it up so he could see your black lace panties above him. He rubs you against the lacey material and it feels ecstatic finally getting proper relief.
“You’re already wet, hm? You’re always wet for me, even when you’re upset with me?”
You whine in agreement, wanting to feel his fingers, his tongue, his cock—just anything, you just needed more. His fingers hooked around your waistband, yanking it down causing the small fabric to pool around your feet.
Miguel placed his hands on both sides of your waist, running his hands down your body.
“You know you’re absolutely gorgeous. I’d do anything to show you just how much I appreciate you.” You feel his breath get closer and closer to your dripping cunt. You held your breath as he licked a stripe up your cunt.
You let out a particularly loud moan and your hand clasps over your mouth in attempts to not bother the neighbors. Miguel started with tantalizing slow licks on your pussy making you squirm in his grasp. He stills you by tightening his grip on your thighs.
“M-miguel faster please.” you stuttered, not able to form a single coherent thought besides the fact you needed him to go faster. Your hand came down to find its way into his hair, as you tugged on it harshly.
That was enough for Miguel to take a hint, he started to lick faster, flattening his tongue to make sure he got every drop your pussy had to offer. His tongue flicked against your clit making you moan louder, though the only thing keeping them in was your hand that was still over your mouth.
“So desperate for me, don’t try to hide it Y/n. Let me hear you.” You take your hand off of your mouth and lewd noises begin spilling out, filling the room. You felt your high coming closer to its tipping point. It felt like a thousand fireworks about to be set ablaze.
He knew you so well and could feel you were close. He slowly slid in his middle finger, then ring as he focused on your clit. He pumped his fingers out slowly causing your stomach to tighten.
“I knew you weren’t going to leave me. You knew it too. You know why? Because you need me, no one can make you feel the way I do.” He asked patronizingly, keeping the pace with his fingers.
He felt the way you clenched around his fingers at that, you guessed in the back of your mind you knew you could never leave Miguel even if you wanted to. You didn’t have the strength and you loved him too much. But hearing it come from him made you even wetter.
“Please Miguel, I’m so close–” You say whining, as tears begin to stream down your face once more. You grab his hair pushing him further into your heat as the pace of his tongue begins to pick up. He begins to focus on your clit, flicking it so lightly but laps up all your juices with hunger. As you began to come, your knees began to buckle and all you could see was white and ears ringing. When you began to come back to senses, you felt Miguel’s fingers gripping your thighs and heard him groaning. When you looked down at the boy, you saw a dark gray patch contrasting his thin light gray sweatpants.
“I need you? I think you need me.” You say chuckling.
“God, I love you Y/n.” he stood up, wiping your juices from his face with the back of his hand so he could pull you in for a kiss.
Warnings/Content: dacryphilia, semi-toxic (?), argument, mentions of breaking up, established relationship, smut, squirting, oral (fem receiving)
Synopsis: Constant disappointment leading to an argument where Y/n wants to end things for good. This rough trial only brings one outcome and a new discovery of Miguel’s.
Yup, he did it again. What did you expect at this point? You were left all alone once more, humiliated with nothing but an empty glass of wine and no Miguel on the other side.
You’ve had the waiter come up to about 4 times now asking if you wanted to order but you just responded with, “No thank you, my boyfriend will be here soon. I better wait for him.” The longer you waited staring aimlessly at the clock, the slower time seemed to pass. Minutes turned into hours without your boyfriend, you felt embarrassed to say the least. Every time the door swung open you looked up in hopes that he would be standing there, chest heaving up and down showing his rushed efforts with flowers and a sorry expression. This wasn’t anything surprising anymore, he’d done this countless times before but you were hoping that just this one night it’d be different than the rest of the lonely nights.
After 3 hours with Miguel being a no show you decided you’d had enough. You stood up trying to ignore the stinging at your eyes from the constant disappointment from your boyfriend everytime. You’ve probably had more fights than dates, you just didn’t know what to do or think. You just weren’t going to stand for this any longer. You knew what you deserved and this was far from it. You were going to end things tonight, with Miguel. You grabbed your bag and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table for the waiter and stormed out.
As you got into your car you saw Miguel walking down the street to the restaurant. You felt so lucky knowing that if you had seen him face to face you would’ve broken down in front of him. He looked terrible– like he simply just didn’t care. He was wearing sweatpants and a black compression shirt, looking as if he had gone to the gym over going to the date. You watched as he waltzed into the restaurant as if he had no care in the world. You didn’t care. You were going to let him walk in expecting him to see you just waiting for him with a smile, and forgive him for being hours late.
But not this time.
You got in your car and didn’t even bother to spare him a second glance as you drove in the direction of your apartment. Once you had safely arrived, you couldn’t help but let the tears just flow down your face, ruining your makeup. All the time you had spent getting ready to look your absolute best for him, knowing he never comes through. You don’t realize how long it has been until you hear someone’s rushed footsteps echoing throughout the dark street. You see his figure. You rush into the house and slam the door behind you not wanting him to see you like this– like a mess. Your heart feels like it’s about to leap
out your chest when heavy knocks on the door echo into your apartment.
“Y/n, open the door.” It was Miguel and he didn’t sound too happy, “Y/n open the fucking door I know you’re in there I heard you go inside.”
“Go away, Miguel.” You responded, albeit not in the confident way you want to. It sounded more shaky if anything.
His tone was now exasperated, “I'm not going away until you open the damn door.”
“It’s over Miguel, just leave me alone.” You pleaded not wanting to carry on anymore.
“What? You can’t be serious right now. All because of being late to one date?!” A mixture of genuine confusion and frustration was present in his voice.
You wanted to punch his face but you decided to stay silent.
“Y/n? Open the fucking door, I’m not playing with you.” He says as the knocking started again, all you felt were the vibrations of the door under your fingertips. After a few more minutes of silence he tried again, “Is this really how you want to end things with me? Through a door and not face to face? At least give me that decency of ending things properly.”
You supposed he was right. It would be wrong to end things just like this, especially after everything you two have gone through together for all these years.
Twisting the knob of your door, you now faced your boyfriend. You could tell he was beyond furious as a vein popping from his forehead gave it away. His gaze softened momentarily upon seeing your damp cheeks and ruined makeup. You couldn’t decipher it but the look in his eyes was something unreadable. Good or bad? You just really couldn’t tell, you’ve never seen this side from him. Miguel brings his thumb to wipe your damp cheeks and he repeatedly strokes your cheek. You felt the warm sensation flow in your cunt.
“Why’re you so upset?”
“I wait for you, that’s all I do, Miguel. But you don’t come through, you never do like you don’t need me anymore.” You say as tears start to well-up in your eyes once more.
“What, Y/n? You know I need you, don’t say that.”
“Don’t say you need me when you always choose other things over me. Do you hate me that much!? You just brush me aside and put everything else ahead?”
Miguel tries to embrace you in hopes of calming you down but you push him away.
“All those times I tried to spend with you doesn’t mean shit to you.” Your tears start spilling freely now down your face. Miguel takes a step towards you which causes you to step back. You keep backing up as he comes forward until your back meets the wall. Miguel reaches his hand out, cupping your face while using his thumb to wipe away stray tears. All you feel is the sensation of the warmth of him basically spreading your tears around on your face.
And he just stands there, staring at you with that same stare from earlier. The one you couldn’t read. Your eyes were so trained on him you didn’t realize his thumb slipping in between your soft lips and eventually into the warmth of your mouth. You ignored the salty taste from the tears he wiped earlier, as you began to suck on his thumb. His breath hitched when your tongue slid up and down the flesh of his thumb, looking up at him through long lashes and wide eyes.
“You don’t know how pretty you are when you cry, Y/n.” He says with stars filled with lust in his dark orbs.
“Then show me.”
It happened so quickly you didn’t register the fact that Miguel took you by your shoulders and spun you around, shoving your front against the wall your back was previously against. You let out a silent gasp at how rough he was being.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” he sighed, feeling his hot breath fan against your ear. You squirmed in his grip, hips moving and accidentally coming into contact with his obvious boner that you assumed would be painfully bulging through the thin, gray fabric of his pants.
“You like getting me mad, huh? So I can fuck some more tears out of you.” He says condescendingly. Getting off on the power he had over you, how you were so helpless in his grasp with nowhere to go.
You can’t even respond, already drunk off of him. You unconsciously began to move your hips against his straining erection, craving any sort of friction.
“Respond to me, already too fucked out to respond? I didn’t even touch you.” He says and you could practically hear the smirk on his face. There was nothing more you wanted to do than wipe it off of his face but you were aching to feel him– you wanted some sort of relief.
He knelt down, bunching up the fabric of your red dress so he could push it up so he could see your black lace panties above him. He rubs you against the lacey material and it feels ecstatic finally getting proper relief.
“You’re already wet, hm? You’re always wet for me, even when you’re upset with me?”
You whine in agreement, wanting to feel his fingers, his tongue, his cock—just anything, you just needed more. His fingers hooked around your waistband, yanking it down causing the small fabric to pool around your feet.
Miguel placed his hands on both sides of your waist, running his hands down your body.
“You know you’re absolutely gorgeous. I’d do anything to show you just how much I appreciate you.” You feel his breath get closer and closer to your dripping cunt. You held your breath as he licked a stripe up your cunt.
You let out a particularly loud moan and your hand clasps over your mouth in attempts to not bother the neighbors. Miguel started with tantalizing slow licks on your pussy making you squirm in his grasp. He stills you by tightening his grip on your thighs.
“M-miguel faster please.” you stuttered, not able to form a single coherent thought besides the fact you needed him to go faster. Your hand came down to find its way into his hair, as you tugged on it harshly.
That was enough for Miguel to take a hint, he started to lick faster, flattening his tongue to make sure he got every drop your pussy had to offer. His tongue flicked against your clit making you moan louder, though the only thing keeping them in was your hand that was still over your mouth.
“So desperate for me, don’t try to hide it Y/n. Let me hear you.” You take your hand off of your mouth and lewd noises begin spilling out, filling the room. You felt your high coming closer to its tipping point. It felt like a thousand fireworks about to be set ablaze.
He knew you so well and could feel you were close. He slowly slid in his middle finger, then ring as he focused on your clit. He pumped his fingers out slowly causing your stomach to tighten.
“I knew you weren’t going to leave me. You knew it too. You know why? Because you need me, no one can make you feel the way I do.” He asked patronizingly, keeping the pace with his fingers.
He felt the way you clenched around his fingers at that, you guessed in the back of your mind you knew you could never leave Miguel even if you wanted to. You didn’t have the strength and you loved him too much. But hearing it come from him made you even wetter.
“Please Miguel, I’m so close–” You say whining, as tears begin to stream down your face once more. You grab his hair pushing him further into your heat as the pace of his tongue begins to pick up. He begins to focus on your clit, flicking it so lightly but laps up all your juices with hunger. As you began to come, your knees began to buckle and all you could see was white and ears ringing. When you began to come back to senses, you felt Miguel’s fingers gripping your thighs and heard him groaning. When you looked down at the boy, you saw a dark gray patch contrasting his thin light gray sweatpants.
“I need you? I think you need me.” You say chuckling.
“God, I love you Y/n.” he stood up, wiping your juices from his face with the back of his hand so he could pull you in for a kiss.
