vrsegirl

[vrsegirl]

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE (BEAUTIFUL PROBLEMS)

synopsis. ꩜ how felix comforts you.

author’s note. ∿ i wanted to write something (kind of) short and angsty so here’s this

When Felix woke up his skin was cold, lacking the warmth your body gave him in the night, his arms holding onto the ghost of you. He lifted his body from his bed, his eyes in search of his room for any trace you you. He couldn’t find anything. He checked the room you were assigned when you first arrived at Saltburn and you weren’t there either—not that you used it anyways. So, he walked downstairs to the dining room assuming you were at the table eating breakfast. While everyone ate at approximately at the same time it was in Felix’s nature to be a little fashionably late.

His assumptions were correct as you sat for the meal, looking down at your food. It was when you looked up at him he noticed something innately wrong, unable to ignore how your eyes were tainted red as they flit around the room, unable to hold his gaze. You hadn’t said much other than please and thank you the entire time, ultimately excusing yourself early, the sound of your feet resounding throughout the house as you walked back upstairs.

“Is she okay?” Venetia subtly whispered to Felix and he shook his head with a shrug. “I don’t know,” He responded seriously. Elsbeth gave her son a look of concern, the green light that it was acceptable to excuse himself.

“If I may, I’m going to excuse myself to check on her.” His parents nodded and he followed the same way you went. He eventually traced you back to the bathroom that separated your two rooms, peeking in the door when he heard your figure slosh in the water of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly and you nodded. Your knees were to your chest as you held a cigarette in your hand. Felix kneeled beside you, replacing the cig with his hand, putting it out on the ash tray beside the bath it seemed you brought with you. His thumb massaged your hand in silence as if it would magically ease whatever was devastating you—it didn’t, but it calmed the both of you to know that it helped.

“Do you want me to join you?” He mouthed, quieter than the previous question as you looked at him again. Still you didn’t say anything, only nodding as he reluctantly released your hand to remove the clothing from his body. You moved from your position momentarily to make room for him in the bath, sitting in his lap once he was submerged with you.

He didn’t push you to talk but there was something so concerning, persuasive about the look in his eyes you almost felt guilty for staying quiet. Felix would never intend to make you feel that way, there was just something about him that made you want to open your heart to him knowing that he’d keep it safe.

The thought alone made your eyes water like they had earlier that morning, the reason why you left him in bed alone. You rested your head on his chest as you cried, Felix’s arms around you, rubbing at your back as you did so. His head rested atop yours, cringing to himself each time he felt it shake from a sob.

“I’m right here, okay?” He mumbled into your hair. His statement made it seem like he was a few doors down or right next to you, but in truth his body was wrapped around yours, protecting you like a shield from anything that threatened to hurt you. He knew he couldn’t, but right now it was the best he could do.

[vrsegirl]

“A shining student and beauty in our seaside community growing up. Everyone loved her.” ⸻ “I'm not interested in being a good girl anymore. I'm being someone worth fighting for.” — Erika Fane, twenty-one years old, psychology student, third year of bachelor's degree, member of the cheerleading team and captain, president and member of the kappa delta.

ooc: I won’t interact much, cause I want to avoid a shadowban. If you’re interested in smalltalk or anything, hmu!

[vrsegirl]

ⓘㅤㅤㅤ lıberαndo #𝖣𝖤𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖰𝖴𝖤𝖲 pαrα rpg.

✩ ◞ 𝐏

. 𐙚 lɑ ’vie.

੭ 🏠 ! 𝓈

#𝟢𝟢𝟢𝟏

わい 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙼. ̶͟͞ ɾefúgio.

ꪆ୧ #𝐁̵𝐋̵𝐎̵𝐆̵.

(…)

ﲜ ᏚᎢᎪᎡ𝔤͟𝔦͟𝔯͟𝔩. ★

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⃞𝟵𝟳𝟨ㅤㅤᰶㅤㅤпры

⠀͡꒱ 𝐀𝑚𝖔𝖚𝖗 ‘ ☝🏻

꒰  ິ ˢᴼᵁᴸ.

⏤   ,  ZXƎS.

͏ ͏ 𝑮𝖮𝖱𝗘 🪦

#𝟢𝟢𝟢𝟏

(…)

αbt 𝖬͟𝖤.

𝖵𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 ᤩ 🫶🏻

あり ㅤׂ ﹨ 🫙

lıl, 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥. ☀️

tu & 𝕟͟𝕠́𝕤͟.

👩‍👦‍👦 さな王子た

𝑗𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑛 ノ 🍹

(…)

ㅤ࣫ㅤ🌸ྀི 𝕋𝕆 ﹙𝐊͟𝐈͟𝐘 ๋ 𝙰𝙼𝙾𝚁𝗠̵𝗘̵𝗨̵. ✿

𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗥̵͟𝗢̵͟𝗜̵͟𝗗̵͟

໒ 🫂 #𝟒̵𝟏̵𝟐̵𝟑̵

&𝕋𝕌𝕃𝕀𝐏͟𝐀͟𝐒. 🎀

૮꒰ ｡っ -｡꒱ఎ

私の仕事 ⌒ ☆

(…)

﹫𝓫𝕒𝒆 ’ ♥︎

⊹ ࣪ ℬ𝗈𝗎𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗍 ໒ 🥕

に #𝚜𝗈̫𝑢𝗅⭒͡

✦‎۟ ℒ𝒪𝒱𝑒𝓇

私のお気に入り

𝗌𝗍★𝗋𝗌

(…)

ㅤ࣫ㅤㅤ 𝗆͜𝗈͜𝗅𝗌ㅤㅤ͏

𝚜𝗈̫𝑢𝗅⭒͡

✿ おい

𝐀𝐓 と ♡ ⃝⃔

ㅤㅤㅤ◜🤏🏻 ₍ 𝙿𝙰𝙸𝚇𝙰̃𝙾

୨ 🐾 ୧

ㅤp♡𝗲𝗺 ٫ · ܸ ꒱ྀི১

(…)

✿☀️ׅ౿ 𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖤𝗫͟𝗔̃𝗢.

𝔹ℝ𝔼𝕁𝔸, 𝟮𝟢3. 🍻

𝗠𝗘𝗟𝗔 𝗡𝗖𝗢 𝗟𝗜𝗔 ‘

❛ Ｃｈｅ́ｒｉｅ.

🫙◟ 𝚂̵𝙴̵𝚇̵𝙾̵&αmor

﹙𝐌𝖯𝐁﹚♥︎ ，

🛵 ╱ 𝖮𝖢𝖤𝖠𝖭𝖮.

(…)

morenɑ★̲𝖲𝖮𝖫𝖠𝖱

prıncesınhα.

ⵓ 🔓

𝖬𝖨𝖣𝖭𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

﹙ 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 ﹚ ♥︎ ⠀，

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗔 𝗣𝗬

𝑝͟𝑎͟𝑡͟𝑖͟𝑡͟𝑎͟𝑠 ❛

(…)

❀ 𝟎͟𝟐͟𝟐͟𝟎 ‘ 🥭

୭ 📍 𝐑𝖩

#𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 ♥︎ㅤ

𝗔 𝗠 𝗢 𝗥.

𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 ⨾ ч͟o͟u͟.

私の恋人

Osαkα, 1987.

Caso use, dê os devidos créditos, me marque no Instagram. (@sweetiuues ) !!

[vrsegirl]

This is what makes us girls

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader - smut

You sneak out while Miguel sleeps, going to the club with friends, only to find someone waiting for you when you try to sneak back. Smut at the end

The reader is a bit of a innocent girl, no serious description of the way she looks so you can imagine yourself as you want to. Will probably write a part two that's only smut

• a bit dark at points • shower sex • fingering • praise • porn with plot

There was always magic in the ways the lights shine when you get drunk. It's like the world gets covered in a veil that makes everything a bit more dreamy, a bit more interesting, a bit more alive.

But for you, a couple more shots after this point, the world always started to become cold, lonely and devoid of its own reality. Like the alcohol wanted to teach you the self-control that you seemed to lack. A couple of shots, that should have been enough. But not for you.

And now the music was too loud, too strong, the lights too bright and all over the place and the warm breeze of the night seemed to be pushing thousands of little needles in your exposed skin.

You can hear your friends having the time of their life on the dance floor, surrounded by their boyfriends, some even husbands, living the nights before the work, marriage and kids catch on to them. Making the memories that will make them smile after 40 years.

And you wanted to have that. You were desperate to live that. Having waited most of your life for a better man, choosing your partners carefully, trying not to throw yourself at every relationship that can hurt you. And that landed you probably the best man on the planet - Miguel O'Hara. The one that always managed to make you too sweet, too bubbly, too child-like just with his presence. But what can be expected of you? You waited so long for someone you can trust, of course you'll be all over him any moment you have the chance.

But sadly that moment wasn't now. And you were left alone on the table in the club, completely drunk, feeling dirty and grimy from all the dancing and sweating, no boyfriend in sight.

You had imagined, maybe too naively, that the perfect man would be all smiles, kisses and sweet caresses into the long nights. Because that was love? Wasn't it?

You were sick of hearing you were too trusting, too kind, too naive. That the world will chew you and spit you out if you continued being this way. Your best friend said it, you ex said it, your mom and dad said it and now... now it was Miguel too.

You weren't at fault for wanting to be nice, for wanting to be kind, knowing that a bit more in the world can help, even if a little. You never knew what someone was going through, so you just tried to go through life as peacefully as you could... only for the weight to fall on you now, in the form of taunts, pesky arguments, stupid retorts about how dangerous reality can be for someone like you.

He could be an ass, that was clear. And you hoped he will be able to understand that side of you a bit better, even if it wasn't now, still someday...

But not tonight. After the 100th argument about you wanting to do something innocent that he turned into a speech about being responsible and taking care of yourself, because he couldn't always be there, you had had enough. And just as he went to bed, softly snoring next to you, used to the calmness you brought him, you got softly up, grabbing some clothes and makeup. You snuk to your friends house, getting ready with them for a night of your so called rebellion against what the world thought you are. They couldn't put you in a box. You were your own person. You were free to do whatever you wanted....

And yet, sitting alone at the table, beyond exhausted and depressed of being alone in the club, you decided that maybe independence wasn't for you. Not tonight at least.

You tried catching your friends attention, hoping they will maybe agree to go home with you or continue in a more quiet, not as depressing place. But they were long gone with the crowds of sweaty bodies, covered by the dim lights of the projectors, in a world of smoke and techno.

So you just texted them that you're catching a cab and going back home.

There was something entirely wrong and lonely, sitting in the quiet cab, all dolled up and sweet as you were, having no man beside you to make you feel safe, to make you feel loved, the same way you loved him. Your thoughts continued getting darker and darker, your little soul having always craved just to be loved, held and appreciated. Why did you think you'll find this in a couple of drinks at the club? Why did you ever think you'll be good with one night like this?

You should definitely start paying more attention to how much you drink.

You stumble out of the cab, barely managing to count the money the guy asked of you, happy that at least he didn't kidnap you or worse... Maybe you should have called Miguel after all? God knows you'll have to do magic to hide from him what you did tonight. Yet as you grabbed the railing of the steps infront of the small apartment building, you wondered if he'll be more angry or disappointed with you when he finds out. Because he always finds out.

The ride in the elevator only cemented the fact that whatever he said, you'll probably cry. You were drunk, exhausted and beyond lonely. All you wanted at this point in life was to snuggle that ridiculously big and strong frame of his, make your bed there and probably die. It didn't sound like a bad way to go out.

You stood for a moment infront of the door, eyes almost empty, hazy and lost, your little figure leaning from leg to leg as you wondered if you should expect something on the other side of it.

You looked down at the little dress you were wearing. The dress Miguel told you you'll never wear without him around.

Well that was a problem...

You prayed he was asleep, prayed you can just hide in the sheets till he left for work so you can clean yourself up and forget this pathetic attempt to prove to him you were independent, strong enough on your own.

And you were, of course you were. Just not as much in the social aspects of life...

The door creaks, you shadow crawling over the floor as you look around like a lost rabbit, skin rosy, legs and arms weak from the alcohol. And you step slowly, staggering just slightly as you put your high heels on the floor to the door, almost planting face down as you tried to keep your balance.

After closing the door and tiptoeing around like a criminal, you soudlessly made your way to the kitchen and living room.

You were getting somewhat confident that you managed to be so quiet till now, maybe you'll get to the bed in one piece. You were almost cheering yourself on as you stepped on the cold tiles of the kitchen... only to freeze in place, head too fuzzy from the shots to produce a proper scared reaction.

His dark, red eyes met yours, swimming with a cold, intense feeling, beckoning you in as in one hand he swirld a glass of whiskey. His torso was bare, sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips as he leaned on the kitchen counter, sizing you up with his eyes, gaze slowly crawling over your exposed skin in the little dress, taking in your disheveled, drunk state.

And you just didn't have a reaction. Maybe you were drunk, maybe scared, or plain too stupid to do anything. But you just stood there, chest softly raising and falling with little, a bit faster than usual, breaths.

"Should I ask the hard question first, or the easy one?" He asks calmly, too calmly, taking a sip of his whiskey, tilting his head almost curiously at you. And you felt shivers run down your little frame, fingers fidgeting behind your back as your fried brain scattered to understand what the fuck he meant by that. Was this a trick question? Of course it was!

He leans slightly forward, putting two hands on the counter as if he was looking down at a child, waiting for some funny answer. And you fidget harder, eyes big, taking all of the world in, cementing in his mind that what you did was more than stupid.

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm sure a big, brave girl like you can give me an answer" He was condescending, fully calm. Like nothing was happening. Like he wasn't ready to explode any moment. Or so you thought. Whatever it was, it just jumbled your brain further, sending mixed signals as your stomach churned, yet lava pooled in your abdomen at how confident, at how powerful he was right now. He held all the cards, not like you ever stood a chance, yet now you were more fucked than ever.

"Let me help you, little girl" He said, downing his glass and leaving it on the counter with a click. He knew you were drunk. And he knew how vulnerable, how helpless you got when you drank, how you only wished to be held, protected, hidden from the world till you could gather yourself again. And as much as he loved how sweet, how innocent and honest you could be, now he could only see you as a big, walking target, waiting for something to happen and for him to not be there.

Miguel knelt infront of you, sitting on the balls of his feet as he looked up at you, at your flushed, embarrassed face, slightly lost and nervous gaze, almost chuckling as his fangs poked from his lips. "Let's start with the easy one, since your brain is so dumbed down tonight it can't handle anything"

You wanted to protest. You were still fully capable of understanding what was going on, yet you knew it was meaningless. He was a storm in a bottle, waiting for just one wrong move, any excuse to remind you who he was and what he was doing.

"Where were you, princesa?" he doesn't move his gaze from you. He never does, intimidating anyone by just simply holding steady, confident eye contact. And you brunch the hem of your sweet white dress, swallowing dryly as you knew that he was right - you couldn't answer. Not when you knew he already had all the info from somewhere. He was Spider-Man, there was nothing he couldn't find out.

"What, you scared, cariño? Oh, you should know, I'm not the man you should be afraid of when you go to such places" Miguel chuckles darkly, his eyes glistening red as he lifts his hand and pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I advise you to be honest with me" His tone becomes darker, words coming slow and clear as a flame burns in his gaze. "Let's try again: Where were you, princesa?"

You close your eyes, weighning your words, pushed in the corner with no other option than to dig your grave deeper. "I was at the club... with my friends"

You say quietly, voice high, coming out girlish in a way, like you had reverted back in time, standing infront of your parents as you were getting scolded. And he humms amused, his eyes still twinkling dangerously as he grabs your chin gently, tilting it in his direction. "The red lotus?"

The question is clear, easy. Yet so hard, stuck in your throat as you open those big eyes that put him in the ground whenever you did something this dumb.

You don't answer. It wasn't needed, he could read it all on your face.

His face darkens just for a second, his self-control faltering just for a second to betray his true feelings. And you feel your stomach twist, blood run cold. Not because you were scared of him, no, never. But because your gentle, kind mind couldn't bear the idea of disappointing the man you loved with all your heart.

"Miggy-" You try to say something, anything, but he stands up, shushing you with just one dark glance as he goes back to his glass, silently pouring another drink. And you felt your whole being twisting, wishing to just lay down with him, close eyes and dream of his strong embrace around you, where you belonged.

"Do you know what kind of men go there?" He asks a bit louder, not using any of the little nicknames he made up for you, making you freeze, even more guilty now.

He turns, a slight scow on his face that seems to grow with every second as the realization sinks deeper and deeper. A shit hole, a rat house, full of disgusting scum, drugs, weapons, rapists and human trafficking. Like any club in that part of the city. A place for someone either very stupid or very dangerous. And you were definitely not dangerous.

His gaze takes in your figure, sour venom building on his tongue as he looks at your exposed shoulders, soft legs, at your pretty skin and innocent features, only emphasized by that white short dress that he forbid you to wear if he wasn't there. Not because he wanted to be controlling.

Oh he knew how it looked. The big, bad boyfriend, telling his little girlfriend what she should and shouldn't do. But you didn't know these people like he knew them. You haven't seen the cases he has seen, the girls he has saved, the things he's had to do, just to begin cleaning the streets of the same scum that could take you any moment he left you alone. Oh no, he wasn't possessive, he was simply protecting you. And you didn't seem to understand it.

"How much did you drink?" He doesn't even feel like explaining to you how stupid what you did was. No, he was too tired and angry for that. His accusing tone showed it all.

You shift your weight on your other leg, his eyes catching every little movement, nose accustomed to your smell, now filled with the disgusting aroma of booze, cigarettes and sweat of other people. You don't look at him, not even remembering how much you had drank. It was a lot, too much to remember.

He looks at you almost unbelieving, finding it hard to stay in one place as he downs the glass again, leaving it on the counter and marching to you. He grabs you by your shoulders, wanting to shake you, bring you back to reality, but he just stays there, always mindful of his power with you. And you look up at him, unsure, gulping as you meet his dark eyes, see the storm brewing at the surface as he fights with himself to stay calm.

"I'm sorry-" You stutter out, broken, probably too late, as your chest tightens, unable to take a breath.

And in a heap of emotion, used to living in a harsh, scary world, world where no one will cut you slack, no matter how innocent and vulnerable you are, he grabs at the back of your dress, needing to do something, anything. And he rips it open like it was a piece of paper, shoving it off your body.

You gasp, wanting to say something, yet your knees grow weak, scared as you just stay there, leaving him to manhandle you. And Miguel lowers his face, breathing in your neck as his voice sends more than shivers down your spine "Told you you can't wear that fucking dress"

He let's the dress fall to the ground like a rag, grabbing your arm and pulling you with long strides towards the bedroom. And your small, dumb mind can't take what is happening, breaths coming in short as you try to keep up with him, tears already brewing in your eyes. "M'sorry, Miggy. Okay? I'm sorry, please!"

But he doesn't say anything, not even looking at you as he holds your wrist tightly. The only thing you could hear was the way his breathing whistled as he pulled you up the stairs.

He slams the door behind him, grumbling under his breath. And before you know it he pushes you on the bed, almost too roughly as you lose orientation for a second, brain unable to keep with the stress and alcohol. His rough hand is on your face in an instant, holding you in place as he looms over you, inches from your lips as he hisses. "Every fucking time - every fucking time I tell you what goes on in places like this! What men lurk there! I try to drill it in your little head again and again and you just don't fucking want to listen!"

Fat tears roll from your eyes. You always managed to get him angry by being too naive, believing too hard in things he knew this world will never give you... but this was the first time you ever got him to lose his temper. "Miggy-"

You sob, cheeks flushing from the tears as he hovers over you like a predator, ready to tear your troath out : "Don't you fucking start! I've had enough of your whining!"

Your breath hitches, body trembles as he huff in your face, red eyes glowing in the dim bedroom as he stares daggers in your soul. And you swallow pathetically, feeling absolutely helpless, absolutely powerless against this beast of a man.

"I try my damn hardest to protect you! To keep you away from this cruel world!" He hisses in your face and a pathetic whimper falls from your rosy lips. "Do you know how many girls I've saved from places like this!? Do you know how they look when I find them!? Huh? Do you-" He hisses so lowly, lowering further till your noses were touching. And you start feeling like you might suffocate under the pressure, unsure if it was from the alcohol, or you just knew, perfectly well knew what he was talking about. "I find them barely alive! Brutalized! Robbed of everything they are! Do you know how much therapy they need just to go on? You want this to happen to you!? You want me to find you like that as well? Do you know what I'll do if something happens to you? Do. You?"

He barely pushes the last words through gritted teeth, more than fury storming in his eyes. Miguel was a man of few words, choosing to keep his emotions in control in favor of being the bigger person in most situations. A man that had seen hell and came out on the other side.

And there you were his loyal, little girl, always a sunshine for him, always caring for him, doting and cooing at him, always sweet, gentle, kind, believing there was good in everybody.

His biggest fear, his greatest nightmare, seeing you go through what he had went through, what these girls went through, haunting his dreams every night.

He takes in a sharp breath, eyes junping between yours: "I'd kill all of them" He says coldly, not an ounce of regret, dead serious as he stares at you, shoulders tense as if he was ready to go through with it right now.

"Miggy, please" You sniffle, petrified, knowing better than anyone - Spider-Man doesn't kill, never will kill.

"I'll tear every single one of them to shreds" He holds your face tightly, refusing to look away from you: "I'll make them feel every ounce of pain you've felt, I'll make them scream and beg for death. But death will be too kind, too good for them"

You close your eyes, breathing shallow as your whole body trembles under him, unable to take all of this, unable to do any of this any longer.

And he stays there, looking over you, taking you in as he sees your disheveled state, smells the alcohol on your breath, waiting for something.

"Did anyone touch you?" A simple, straight to the point question. And you shake your head no pathetically, wet from tears lips parting as a little whimper escapes your lips. Your mind was too far out, too lost.

"Look at me, doll" He says sternly, squeezing at your jaw. And you open your eyes, unable to hide how scared, how worried and lost you were. "Did anybody touch you?"

"No" You rasp out, your voice betraying everything you were feeling, small hands fisting the sheets under you.

And he looks at you for a second, as if sizing you up, making your heart beat so hard you were sure he could hear it, feel it even.

"Why did you sneak out?" A cold, measured question, no room for lies, no room for escape.

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, chest fluttering as you fight the sobs. You didn't want to answer. Didn't want to give the pathetic excuse for an answer. But his piercing eyes left no other option.

"I wanted - I wanted to go out... when you said I shouldn't..."

"And why did I say you shouldn't?" Another straight question. This was an interrogation. He holds your face just as close, not stepping back, the heat of his strong body enveloping you. And you take in a shaky breath : "Because my friends wanted to go to the "Red lotus"

He steps back, getting off you and the bed, running a hand through his face as he breaths out, taking in your petrified form, knowing you were never stupid. You can't be. Just naive. Too good for this world.

And he knew he could be harsh on you. Taking out the frustration of his job, of the way he lived, on you. Because you were so far from anything he was. Anything he had seen. And it left him feeling powerless to protect you, walking on eggshells everyday, just thinking of what might happen to you if he wasn't around, if he wasn't strong enough.

You push yourself weakly on your elbows, looking at him always so expectingly, so innocent, like he was the sun in the sky, like you would do anything he asked of you. And you would. Because that's how much you trusted him. That's how much you loved him.

You bat your lashes at him, black tears running from your mascara, face red and open for him ro see everything. And your little figure, so soft and inviting, helplessly laying on the bed, melts all his anger away. He could never be mad at you. Not when you were so honest, so innocent in what you did.

You just wanted to prove to him you could stand your ground. That you were grown enough to be like any other person. But he knew this perfectly well. He knew you could be more than what this world wanted from you.

But he never wanted that from you. Never wanted you to change. Never wanted you to be anything, but the sweet, kind girl he had fallen in love. The girl that made him believe in good again, that gave him hope that it was worth to fight for this city. His princesa.

"I'm sorry..." You murmur through sniffles for the 100th time and he can't stand this role any more.

He cringes at the way he's been acting, a bit irrational, a bit controlling, a bit lost himself in feelings he couldn't really explain. And he let's out a soft sigh, running around his head as he thinks.

He had been stupid. Not finding a way to explain his reasoning better, to talk to you calmer, like a grown up person, instead of that letting his feelings and morals dictate everything. When life was supposed to be a harmony between it all. Even if he was right, he couldn't prove that by just being harsh and honest. Especially not with you.

So he slolwy crosses the distance between you two, wrapping strong arms around you, pulling you up in his embrace as your legs wrap around his torso and you hide your face in his neck.

"Just... don't ever do that again" He tries to say it gently, but the undertone was clear. You won't be doing it again. Never again.

And you nod, hot breaths caressing his skin as you cry off the pressure in quiet sobs, melting in his protective embrace : "I won't... I'm sorry. I didn't like it. I don't want to go without you..."

His arms tighten around you, head falling in your neck as he breaths you in, trying to push in his memory the way your soft body melts in his, the way it fits so perfectly with his.

"You didn't like it?" He asks quietly, voice soft again and your heart fills with child-like happiness that he wasn't mad again, your alcohol soaked brain just wanting to be loved and cared for.

"No... I didn't like going there alone. Everyone had their partners or just wanted to drink and party... But I always wanted to be there with you. Maybe dance and laugh and stupid things like that..."

He humms at your baby voice, showing him once again how pure at heart you were. You didn't even want to get drunk if it meant he won't be there to hold you.

"Yet you still went..." it wasn't an accusation, but he couldn't help but say it. And you push yourself closer against him, slightly embarrassed, wishing this night could end.

He knows he won't get an answer from you. Knows you did it in affect, angry after the argument you had yesterday about him not wanting you to go to a place like this club. Especially when he couldn't be with you because if his work. So he drops it, but not before asking one last thing: "Promise me you won't do that again, kay? I know I can be overbearing at moments, but I need you to understand that I'm just terrified of the thought of losing you... seeing you end up like all these women I've had to..."

He couldn't finish the thought, the words lodging in his troath as he hid his face in your neck.

You sigh softly, weighing the words, trying to understand their full meaning through the fog in your brain: "I promise"

That's all he needed. He trusted you, he knew you. And he wouldn't question it, knowing your relationship was built on trust and it should stay like this.

He held you for some time like that, just enjoying the intimacy, not wanting to break the little peace you had managed to build within the storm, letting your sniffles calm down as he rocked you gently from time to time.

"You wanna take a bath, princesa? Would be good after a place like that..." Finally he breaks the silence, knowing you didn't like to go to bed dirty.

"Yeah..." You rasp out, not bothering to get off him. "But you should go to bed. You have work tomorrow"

He chuckles at your constant worry, even when drunk.

"I called off the moment I heard you leave through the door. I knew I had to wait for your little naughty self" He answers calmly, noticing how you held him tighter at the reminder of the night, smiling to himself as he carries you to the shower, opting to make this fast, so no bath tonight.

He let's you down on the bathroom counter, gentle as always. Then he unclaps your bra, kissing your forehead as your head lolls a bit tiredly, in a drunken haze. He pulls off your white panties, leaving them to the side as he takes you again, bringing you to the shower as he makes a quick work of his sweatpants, chuckling at the way you eye him up. He hadn't wore his boxers, earlier going to bed butt naked to you, as he mostly preferred.

And the shower goes quietly, with both of you washing your hair. Miguel holds you up a bit so you don't slip or fall, looking at the way the water cascades down your figure, admiring how innocent you always looked when trying to take care of him.

Halfway through he pushes you on the bathroom ledge, taking your loofah and scrubbing you gently, standing on one knee as he works on your legs and tiny feet. And as you look at him with a shy, curious smile, he takes your feet and kisses up them to your knees, holding eye contact with you, basking at the blush that creeps up to your face.

He loves how soft you are for him, how you let him do as he pleases, just because he wants to, because you trust him. And he wants to mend what's broken, to show you you don't need to sneak around him, you don't need to hide from him. So he sits up between you legs, wrapping his arms around the back of your hips, bringing you close as he lips latch in you chest, humming in appreciation as your breath hitches.

Tiny hands come to his hair, at first shy, sweet, but he has taught you well and soon they fist his hair a bit harder, pulling a bit harsher and he means in the feeling, not scared to show you what feels good.

His other hand plays with the nipple of your lonely breast, massaging, fondling, taking in your softness as he literally suckles on you, always a bit possessive in the way he loved. You let out a haply sound, back arching into him as he smiles, lightly bitting at your nipple, fangs showing hungrily as he feels you tense.

"My little girl, always so eager to prove herself" He whispers lowly, pulling your ass to the edge as he kisses softly at your breasts, playing with them for a bit, making you squirm as he looks at the way the flesh molds for him. He licks between the valley of them, tongue sinking to your abdomen, then back up as he shows you just want he's thinking.

You bite your lip in anticipation, his hands grabbing your hips tightly, angling your body so your heat was infront of him, easy to reach. And he kisses at your inner tighs, bitting gently, leaving tiny scratches with his fangs as he doesn't pull his eyes away from your flushed face, taking in every reaction.

"You're going to be the death of me, cariño... You don't know what a man would do for just a taste of the heaven between your legs, for a second in your gentle arms"

And he doesn't wait for an answer, sinking in your heat, feeling your muscles tense instantly, pulling at his hair as he growls. His lips latch on your sweet clit, sucking hungrily, not wanting to waste time in being gentle, yet not rough at all. And he sucks harshly, moaning, tongue darting to your centre, teasing your need as he looks up, lips parted, showing you just how his tongue worked on you as you tried to stiffle a pathetic whimper at the sight alone.

"Look at you, so fucking sweet, so easy to break. What will I do with you, you little thing..." He whispers lowly, voice hoarse as his lips work on your clit, flicking and sucking, keeping a steady tempo as your legs wrap around his shoulders, keeping him in place. You arch your back, needing to grind into him, little hungry sounds falling from your lips, so high and adorable they light his blood on fire.

His right hand leaves your hip, coming under his chin, a skilled, thick finger teasing your entrance before it slowly sinks in, staying for a moment as he basks in the way you flutter around him, the way you try to move your hips to feel more of him.

But he doesn't want to keep you waiting, feeling generous tonight, he adds a second finger, scissoring you for a couple of seconds as he laps at your clit, flicking his tongue. You whine like a cat in heat, pulling him closer by his curls and he obliges, twisting his fingers so he feels that spongy spot higher, under where his tongue worked, and he starts a slow pace, before he let's it fall steadily faster and faster, abusing your tight hole, moaning against you as your whimpers grow higher, needier.

"Just like that, doll. Let me hear all of it. Love it when you squirm for me.." He purrs against you, making love to your heat as he continues looking at you. And it wasn't as much his fingers or tongue, what made your abdomen blossom with need was that gaze, that steady, hungry need in him to make you his own, this dark, hoarse tone, that could make you believe anything he said.

You nod your head pathetically, just wanting to please him as he pleased you, to be his good little girl, let go for a second and forget all about the world outside, forget about all the worries and stress and for a moment be his, completely his.

"Wanna cum for me, you needy thing? Wanna let me taste you as you cum, huh? Go on, sweetheart. Don't think about anything. I'm here, I'll hold you"

You whine like a kitten, your sounds starting to fall with the pace of his fingers that steadily grows faster and faster, fisting at his curls as your abdomen flexes.

"Yeah, just like that, baby. Let go for me, princess, wanna see you go dumb on my fingers"

You bite your lips, closing your eyes as you focus on the feeling, legs locking around his head as you hold him like a vice, hips pushing at his face, riding him as you feel the coil tighten.

"Miguel..." You whine his name and he moans at your heat, lapping like a man starved, switching the pace to a faster, more brutal one, knowing you can take it.

Your mouth falls open, a plethora of dity sounds bubbling as you get wetter, grow needier, making his job so much easier.

"Fuck, I love the sound you make, cariño. Can make me do anything just to hear them again" He murmurs, latching on your clit again, managing to flick at it with the same pace his fingers abused your little hole. Your head falls back as a broken whimper escapes your troath. And your hips tense, having a mind of their own as they tirelessly start grinding, meeting his movements perfectly and Miguel growls against you.

"Cum for me, baby. Make me proud"

You nod erratically, tethering on the edge as his words ring in your tipsy mind.

"Wanna make you proud - wanna make you proud, Papi"

The name slips without meaning to. And in other circumstances he would cringe, or be somewhat unsure. But you didn't say "daddy". You said "Papi". Which in a way in his language feels far more normal, far more fitting.

He chuckles darkly against you, not stopping his ministrations, watching you as you open your eyes to look at him, whimpering like a kicked dog, taught to always look at him as you came.

Your hips stutter, losing rithm, yet his hand keeps on working on you as your whole body trembles, mouth freezing half-way through a broken scream. And you tense so much, so harshly you lose your breath, only able to feel. There were no thoughts left, no needs or worries, just a hot wave that washed over your whole body, buzzing to the tips of your shaking legs. And the heat pooled right back in your abdomen, sinking lower where his tongue flicked so fast you lost feeling of the earth beneath you.

It was beautiful really, the way you just froze, as if pushing an enormous weight, his hungry knowing gaze prolonging that tethering till like a bottle, something popped in you, painfully, yet so blissfully squirting in a little, hot stream.

Miguel let's out the dirtiest sound you've heard him make till now, not stopping even for a second as he takes all that you give him. And your eyes cross, lips tremble, as you fist so hard at his hair you must've pulled some hairs from the roots.

"There we go... there we fucking go..."

He finally latches off you, looking at the way you let it all out for him, his fingers gradually slowing down as your whole body trembles, hunched over. And with every little stream he leaves a little kiss at your heat, enamored by the way your body craved him so much it was ready to break apart from the smallest touch.

He let's you ride out your high, your body finally leaning back against the wall, mouth still open as you barely take in shallow breaths. And he slowly removes his fingers, cleaning them off with his tongue as he stands before you. His hand gently pulls your lost, hazy gaze to look up at him, his wolfish smile making your insides twitch.

"What was that about "Papi"?"

[vrsegirl]

Can we just be honest?

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

This was an idea I wanted to write for soooo long. And I'm thinking of doing a part two if anyone is interested.

In short - You are a young vigilante (early 20s!) And Miguel is in his late 30s or even 40 and he fights with his need to have you against all his morals. (You get what you want)

No mention of appearance, you can imagine yourself as you want to

TW: • Angst • emotional torture •self-hatred • insecurities • a bit deprived

It was always the same. He thought he had control. This big, burly, aggressive at moments man, thought he could catch himself before he fell. Before he lost control. And that's what he thought he could do the entire time this unfolded infront of him. That he can stop it any moment he thought it went too far.

But he was gravely mistaken. He was going to pay the price.

He had locked you away. After a fight that almost cost you your life. After he felt like he had gone berserk, destroying anything in his path as one of the gang members threw you against the wall, so hard you started gasping for breath, body convulsing from the shock.

He had seen red. Almost forgetting his morals, almost forgetting how hard he had fought to look as human as possible.

Because even he couldn't look in the mirror, see these monster fangs, dripping with blood, these talons that didn't even look animal, no, they were even worse. And he couldn't look at himself and see a man. No one would be able to.

Yet for years he had fought to keep his morals. To build himself a name, a pass in society, that made him seem at least partially normal. At least good enough to not be spat at.

And here you were, crawling under his skin, webbing your little, sweet webs that he can easily crush. If only they didn't taste of youth, of honey and dew.

"Miguel..."

You breathe his name out, fidgeting with the webs on your wrists, big eyes silently asking if this was needed. And he couldn't even face you, pacing the other end of the room, shoulders tense, fingers ready to claw at any surface just to release the tension.

You look around, not scared, not angry, not anything. Always too lenient with him, too nice. And he wanted you to hate him. To see his teeth covered in the blood he shed for you, to see his hands for the weapons they were, to see him as the disgusting animal he should be. But the moment he had relented and shown you his face, under the mask, he had lost all privilege of you not wanting him.

You cross your legs on his bed, where he had left you after examining your injuries, after leaving you to rest. And his nostrils flare, pupils blowing as he was so accustomed to your sweet aroma it made him feel like home whenever your hormones spiked.

He cursed the day he met you.

That sweet day your little form crossed his path. The day a pesky little vigilante like you jumped infront of his body, taking a bullet meant for him, thinking his life, the life of this monster, of this animal, was more precious that the sweet thing you were.

Or this was just his destiny. Fighting so hard to keep his morals, to keep his dignity, these same things pushed him to take you in the emergency, to check on you regularly, even if from afar. Only for these check ups to grow more frequent, more intimate, with the days.

The same morals that told him you were too kind, too innocent, too driven of the same power that led him to give up his whole life, compensating with his powers for everything he can never be. The same morals that somehow led something as gentle and pretty like you to run the streets, thinking it could change the world.

Your little mind captivated him, enamored him, naive to a fault, kind till it bled from its goodness. Because that's what you were. A little girl playing a knight in this cursed chess game. Too loyal, too real, too dedicated for the world that could tear even a monster like him to shreds.

"Migue, please..."

Your sweet voice is a lullaby to his empty chest, to his dark thoughts, piercing through all the self-hatred, through all the ugly thoughts, making him dream, even if for a moment, that he was good enough, normal enough, to hear it every day.

"Please, let me go"

You say a bit louder, that youthful voice, full of life, full of emotion.

Oh how he hated that voice.

You could be ruthless, jumping into danger like it didn't fucking matter. Like if you died on him he won't throw all he worked for away, plowing through bodies like the monster he was meant to be.

Oh how stupid you were.

He stays with his back to you, able to hear every shift of your little body, how your skin moved in your clothes, that musky sweet scent of yours, the contrast between the perfume that had almost disappeared from you neck. He could smell the way your adrenaline would spike, body temperature rise, the occasional attacks of dopamine whenever he got too close.

It made him want to claw his face away.

He doesn't want to turn to you. Doesn't want to see these big, pleading eyes, these pools that seemed so open and innocent only for him.

Because he had seen your anger, your fury, seen the power that made you what you are, the sharpness of your gaze. Every night on the street, it took a mastermind, tough skin, it took a lot of bravery and stupidity to survive doing what you were doing. And that's what made it all the more sweet.

Because whenever you looked at him, whenever your gaze met his, that fury, that sharpness, all your coldness seemed to melt away, disappear like it had never been there. Like you had seen the first warm rays after a long winter, eyes growing soft, sweet, obedient and needing.

Those damn eyes, those damned lips.

He never deserved to see them. Not for him. Not for an animal like him.

But it was too late.

And he won't let anyone else see them.

His anger seems to grow with every moment. And as he turns to come to you, he barely manages to spare you a glance, barely manages to meet these eyes as they instantly grow soft for him.

And he harshly pulls at the webs, riping them from your wrist, still cautious enough to not hurt you. Never hurt you. And before you can manage to say anything, he pushed your back on the bed, pulling your shirt up, trying to ignore how his nostrils flare at the sight of your sports bra, your supple flesh as he checks over your bruises again.

He grabs your waist, almost wanting to put his talons in you as he sees how one of his hands can cover your whole stomach, how he can just grab at you and do as he pleases.

But he'll never do it. It was just his damn mind playing tricks on him.

It had been so long since he last felt the gentle caress of something remotely as sweet as you.

He turns you over, needing to bury his face in your back, needing to feel his hard figure against your soft skin, cover himself like an animal in that musky smell.

But he doesn't, growling as he traces the bruises that bastard left over your back as he slammed you again and again against the wall of the compound you had been caught in.

Your breath hitches, lips part so innocently as you feel his rough fingers over your back. And then he pulls your shirt back. The loss of proximity makes you want to whine, whimper sweetly for him, like you belonged right there, under him, for him.

But you don't, biting the inside of your cheek, you softly push yourself up and meet his eyes.

Brooding, dark, lost in thought, his eyes seem so dark it can send shivers anyone's spine. But not you. No, the tingles in your abdomen isn't fear, the itch in your fingers isn't from terror.

You look up innocently, always so open, always so sensitive to his presence, pleading up at him to lead you, control you, take you and tell you what to do.

Like a good little girl.

He wants to snarl at you, fill your head with those stupid speeches about discipline, about responsibility that you'll never listen to. He wants to scream at you, scare you out of your mind, show you how fucking dumb you're at times. But mostly he wants to take your hand and lead you away, lock you in a cage of his own, hide you from the world where only he'll be able to see those sweet eyes, trace the supple flesh of your lips, hear the little mews of you desire as he had heard all these nights at your window. All these nights trying to tell himself that he was protecting you, watching over you, making sure you stayed pure at heart as ever.

All the nights he fisted himself in his hard palm, biting his cheek, acting like he wasn't at fault for hearing the way you touched yourself, the way your rich aroma filled the room and escaped through the slit of your window.

He shakes his head, almost flinching as if burned, trying to erase the memories from his mind, trying not to think about it infront of you.

Because it made him feel entirely not human. Made him feel like the same scum he was beating off the streets, the same scum he spat at.

And you don't say anything, so obedient, so good, just looking up at him trough your lashes, waiting for his every command, hanging on his every word, on his every move.

He felt like ripping your throat out.

You were so small at times, so scared, yet so brave. So weak, yet so ready to give it your all for what you were doing. So dedicated to what you believed in. Because you were naive, young, inexperienced, looking for a place to belong, a place to be, choosing him in the end, deciding to throw all social norms, to turn a blind eye to all he'll never be for you, all he can't give you. Life, happiness, stability, normality.

His anger flares and flares, eyes locked in yours, waiting for something, anything to make him believe he had a reason to hate you, a reason to throw you away. Anything to help him live this through.

And he doesn't find anything,

No. Just you. Your bare soul loking up at him, your heart on your sleeves, rosy cheeks and pink lips, brows knit in concentration, in silent plea to hear him, to be near him.

He clenches his fists so hard he prays it bleeds, his mouth going dry as his expression stays neutral.

And then you finally do something. Something forbidden, something that steps on the line just enough to make him question everything. You step up, face close to his chest, as your lips stay parted, big eyes drinking him in, soft, gentle hands lifting up, caressing his busted lip so light you might seem afraid to hurt him.

And he wants to flinch, to step back, to push your hand away. But suddenly his own arms feel to heavy to lift. And he swallow dryly.

Morals. He had morals. And he had to keep them.

You were too young. Probably 15 years too young.

So full of life, so full of everything life could give you. Still so impressionable, susceptible, so naive and ready to take on anything. Ready to do anything for love, thinking it was the final destination, thinking it was the fairy tale you had to fight for.

And you could be so happy.

With someone else. Someone your age, someone ready to do the same, someone that could give you a normal, stable life. Life where you didn't hate him everyday for everything he wasn't, everything he couldn't be. Life where you felt like you mattered more than his work.

You caress his lip and he feels like his body lights on fire, nostrils flare as he takes in your scent so close, the iron taste of his own blood in his mouth.

And he grabs your hand, moves it away, just gentle enough to give off the wrong impression.

Your eyes only seem to grow larger, making his legs feel too weak, too heavy as he looks down at you, at how small you were compared to him. And he sees your exposed neck, the pulse point as hot blood runs through your veins. Your soft shoulders, pulled back sweetly, the glistening in your eyes.

And you grow bolder.

Because he was too weak, because he was a disgusting animal, a deprived excuse for a human being.

You grab gently his face, cupping his cheeks, almost wanting too coo at him, melt his hard, broken soul. Mend all the pieces life had scattered with time.

He takes a step back and loyal to a fault you take one forward.

"Stop"

He says coldly, hand holding your forearm, big enough to cover half of it, break it with one wrong move.

Your face grows hotter, blush covering your cheeks, as your eyes jump between his, drinking him up like he was the brightest star in the sky, making his heart beat so hard he feared you might hear it. Hear how weak he was.

Oh how weak he was. You were his siren. His death. The only song he rembered in the cold night. The only warmth he searched for in his bed.

And you step on your tip toes, too short to reach him, yet he looks down at your sweet lips, eyes growing softer, lost in your gaze.

"This is wrong"

He murmurs gruff and horse, voice weak.

And you don't care. Because you were either deprived, or simply too naive.

His hand slowly, instinctively comes around your waist, bringing you closer when everything he wanted was to stay far far away. And he feels how perfectly your small frame fits in his, how your warmth envelops him like the warmth of a long night of drinking.

He was drunk on your softness, on your innocence, on the way you looked at him like he was the only man in the world.

And maybe for you naive, young mind he was.

He was disgusting.

He feels the way your breath mixes with his, the way your brows knit in need as you stay there, the tension in his body growing as the warmth pools in his abdomen.

He was deprived, he was insane. He was the same scum he swore to eradicate from the streets. The same scum that got off on young, little things like you, breaking their hearts, destroying their innocence.

But he wasn't the same scum.

He didn't want you for one night. He didn't want just to taste you. He wanted to have you. Wanted to feast on your soul, on your youth. He wanted to hear you sing like a caged bird for him every night. Fall apart for him, break for him, cry for him. He wanted to see you live for him, breathe for him, exist for him.

His breath shudders, fingers tightening around your waist.

"This is wrong... Mi cielo..."

He says softly, his heart ripping apart as every fiber in his being screams for you, as every nerve in his body sings for you.

And he can smell the way your skin lights on fire, little precious hands coming to the nape of his neck, pulling him down as his breath stays in his lungs. And your lips press against his, so slowly, so gently and innocently, that if he was with anyone else he would think it was the most pathetic kiss he had ever received.

But there was no lust behind that kiss, the way your lips shyly asked for permission against his, bashfully promised more if he followed them. No, this was no lust. This was something far worse. This was love.

Love, in the way only someone who hasn't loved before can give.

His breath grows ragged, his heart leaping as if he was standing on the gates of hell, lips parting as he leans to the side, pecking at your lips. His eyes grow hazy, almost closed as he looks at you lost, kissing again and again at your mouth, like a kitten lapping greedy, asking for more and more, till you push yourself at him and give him all that he wants, all that he lives for.

Your lips melt against his, shy, innocent, lost and uncertain. So different from anything he was used to, anything he knew as real. And his stomach twists in disgust at himself, yet his mind screams at him that it's too late. That he has crossed the line already, might as well go all the way.

And his greedy tongue laps at yours, dancing with yours, tasting it, taking it, as he wishes to take everything from you, take you whole, devour you, dirty you, make you his and only his. And he pushes his tongue so deep, eyes parted to look at the way yours close, at the way you lose yourself on something you've never tasted before, as he takes something no one has ever taken from you.

He pulls your hand up, holding your close, arm wrapping possessive around your waist as he looks at the way you almost chocke on his tongue.

He was disgusting.

He wanted to destroy you, ruin you for any other man, ruin you for anyone else's caress, touch, love. He wanted to see you cry for him, mew for him, depend on him like you would disappear without him. To see you beg for him when he wasn't there, dream of him when he couldn't hold you. To see you fall apart when he couldn't be yours.

He was disgusting.

And he wanted to own you. Body and soul.

He pants in your mouth, refusing to pull away, refusing to back down, scared that if he did, he'll have to face the consequences of what he was doing. Of what he was.

But you pull away, just to take a breath, saliva connecting your lips as you still look up at him like he wasn't the most horrifying man on this planet. Like he wasn't like everyone else, like every other man ready to use you, play with your feelings, take your innocence and never look back.

"Miguel... please..."

You breathe out and he closes his eyes, brows furrowed in frustration as he steps back, body rigid, tense, ready to attack at anything and anyone.

You look at him pleading, knowing what he was thinking, knowing what the problem was, why he always pulled away, why he just couldn't accept you as you were.

You step closer and he inches backwards, rasing one hand as he pants.

"You can't be doing this to me, mi tesoro... you can't"

His voice waivers and only makes you more determined, ready to fight your way through, ready to push through for anything your naive mind held dear. Because that's what he was to you. The only one that didn't see you as a pesky nuisance, the only one that treated you gently, didn't see you as the trash you had grown amongst on the streets. The only one you trusted to take you away from all this.

You grab his hand, putting it against you cheek, kissing his palm, his wrist, looking straight at him, at the way his Adam's apple bobs, the way his red eyes focus on you only, how his arm trembles slightly as if he's afraid he might hurt you if he isn't careful.

"Love me"

Your voice shakes, desperation bleeding through.

"Love me. Love me like no one else can"

He tries to pull his hand away and you don't let him. Like a succubus you drink from his life, from his morality, feasting on the corpse that were Miguel's principles, stepping over everything so many, much stronger, much scarier villains had tried taking away from him... and you did it all with just one look.

"We can't... we shouldn't..."

He pleads his case. Looks at you like you're the most precious thing he's seen, like you aren't the one putting his soul in hell

"Says who?"

A question so stupid he should be angry you even ask. Left alone in his bedroom, the room full of all the scents he's familiar, all the scents that make it home, now drowned out by your sweet, venomous aroma, dirtied by what you were doing, by what you were.

"I cant"

He swallows and says more sternly, yet his eyes seem even more scared, big, pleading for something he couldn't say. He'll never say.

And you step infront of him, chest to chest, his figure towering over you, making you feel small in all the right ways. And your eyes glint daringly, knowingly.

Imagine me with anyone else. Imagine me, touched by anyone else, anyone that isn't you. Imagine anyone else holding me, kissing me, drinking my songs as they take me, as they make me theirs. I dare you. Imagine a life without me.

And he can't. He'll never be able to. He'll never live with himself if your innocent gaze falls on any other man. If your soft hands caress anyone else, if your eyes don't grow soft and loving for him anymore. He can't.

You kiss his palm, nuzzling in it, your other hand cupping his cheek, eyes sharp, knowing, asking again and again if he can live without you.

And he can't.

"Love me. Love me, so no one else will love me"

His shoulders fall, the weight of the world on them. The decision pulling at his throat like a noose.

"I love you"

You hold him closer, pushing him until his back hits the wall.

"I love you. That's all that matters"

You say with such devotion, with such need it tears his soul apart.

"Mi vida..."

He whispers, voice broken, pleading again and again for mercy, gaze soft, scared.

"Please"

You answer, your voice shaky, desperate.

"I want you. No one else. No one else"

His breath grows shallow, body so hot he could barely stand his suit. His mouth feels dry, everything seems to crumble around him.

And you press your small body against his as hard as you can, pulling at him, smashing your lips with his in a sloppy, inexperienced kiss, so hungry to show him how much you want him, how much you're willing to give up.

His hands slowly come at the small of your back, lightly holding there

"Please..."

You pant against his mouth, kissing again and again, fighting for his attention, fighting to be his, to win a piece of his heart.

"Make me yours"

Again and again, you push yourself against him, hips grinding erratically against his, sloppy, deprived of attention for so long. And you whimper in his mouth, as he swallow every sound you make, as he breaths every breath you push in him.

"Make me yours. Take me away"

Tears stream down your face. This wasn't lust. It wasn't even passion. It was need. Pure, raw, unabashed and unashamed need.

"Mi vida..."

He whispers against your lips as you pant, not moving them away, looking at you through hooded eyes.

A broken whimper falls through your lips, chest shaking with the sobs you held back.

"Please... please... I want only you. Just you... please"

And his heart tears apart, his need to protect, to hide all that innocence, this raw emotion, far bigger than any feeling of disgust. This was his moral, his duty. To protect, to keep, to fight for what was innocent.

"Please... I don't want anyone else"

And his hands craw higher on your back, grabbing stronger, your breath hitching, chest filling with a storm of feelings, wanting to scream, to fall apart, to thank him and plead to him.

"What are you doing to me, cariño.."

He whispers and you swallow dryly, looking up at him like he had taken the starts from the sky for you.

"I love you, I love you..."

You repeat like mantra, against and again, growing stronger, desperate as your hands craw over his chest, searching for something anything.

His brows knit, head falling back as he closes his eyes and prays to the skies, prays for any power above him to forgive him, to understand him. Prays to anyone that hears him for forgiveness.

And his hands grab you, pulling you up as he takes you to the bed, gently laying you down, a soft whimper falling from his lips as he kisses you, crawling over you, strong hands holding at your shoulder blades. And his kiss grows desperate, angry, but not at you. At how weak he is.

And in a way he punishes you, punishes himself as he presses you hard against the mattress, roughly dragging his lips against yours, fighting, dominating, as he takes and takes, pushing past them, his tongue far more experienced, determined in what he wants.

He feels your hands inch over his body and he grabs them, harshly pushing your wrists in one hand, over your head as his other hand gently holds your neck, pushing at your jaw, opening it wider as he makes you take all of his tongue, all of him.

"I hate you. I hate you so fucking much"

His voice waivers, hold growing stronger on your wrists and you whine for him, tearing him apart, torturing him with every breath you take, with ever look you give him.

"I hate that I love you so much. I hate that I need you so bad. I hate what you turn me into"

He snarls, taking your mouth aggressively again, crossing every line he had ever set, searching for more, needing more. And he as going to take it all, all that you give him. Even if you hate him in the end. He was going to take it all.

Because he was an animal. A disgusting excuse for a man.

His teeth carried the blood he shed for you. His hands dirty with what you made him. His body and soul belonging to something so innocent, so pretty anyone would kill to be in his place, not knowing you set your sweet, honey-dew webs around your prey. Made it believe it wanted to be there, that it had the choice to leave till it was too late.

And he was nothing more but your next meal. Caught in your sweet trap, poisoned by your bittersweet taste, corrupted, destroyed, devoured by your pretty lips.

And he was yours. All yours. And he'll never be anyone else's.

[vrsegirl]

lista de nomes masculinos que estava no meu bloco de notas e eu só lembrei agora

starting with A ;;

aaron.

adair.

adam.

aiden.

ajax.

alec.

alfie.

allistar.

anderson.

andrew.

andy.

angus.

antonio.

anthony.

archer.

archibald.

archie.

aries.

arlo.

arthur.

ashley.

ashton.

austen.

avery.

axel.

starting with B ;;

bailey.

beau.

beckham.

beckett.

bellamy.

benjamin.

bennett.

bentley.

blade.

blake.

blaine.

blaise.

blue.

bobbie.

bodhi.

brad.

brandon.

braxton.

brayden.

brent.

brett.

brock.

brody.

brooke.

bryson.

starting with C ;;

caleb.

callum.

calvin.

cameron.

carlisle.

carlos.

carson.

carter.

casey.

chad.

chandler.

charlie.

chase.

chaz.

christian.

christopher.

cody.

colby.

cole.

cooper.

colton.

connor.

conrad.

corbin.

corey.

starting with D ;;

dakota.

dallas.

damien.

damon.

dante.

darian.

darron.

darryl.

david.

dawson.

declan.

demetri.

dennison.

denver.

derek.

diego.

diesel.

dimitri.

dixon.

dominic.

donovan.

drake.

drew.

dustin.

dwayne.

starting with E ;;

eason.

eaton.

eddy.

edmund.

edward.

elijah.

elior.

ellias.

elliot.

ellis.

elyas.

ember.

emerson.

emery.

emilio.

emmett.

enzo.

eric.

ernie.

ethan.

ethaniel.

evan.

everett.

everson.

ezar.

starting with F ;;

fabio.

fallon.

farah.

felix.

fernando.

ferris.

felton.

finn.

finnegan.

finnick.

fitz.

fitzgerald.

fletcher.

floyd.

flynn.

foley.

forest.

francisco.

franco.

frankie.

franklin.

fraser.

frasier.

freddie.

fredrik.

starting with G ;;

gabe.

gabriel.

gale.

gallagher.

garcia.

gareth.

garrett.

gary.

gavin.

gene.

george.

gerard.

gilbert.

giovanni.

glenn.

gordon.

grady.

graeme.

grant.

greggory.

gregor.

greyson.

griffin.

gus.

guy.

starting with H ;;

hadley.

hale.

haley.

hamilton.

hamish.

hansel.

harley.

harris.

harrison.

harry.

harvey.

haven.

hayes.

heath.

hector.

hendrix.

henrik.

henry.

holton.

howard.

hudson.

hugh.

hugo.

hunter.

hyde.

starting with I ;;

ian.

ibrahim.

icarius.

idris.

igor.

iman.

immanuel.

imran.

indi.

indiana.

indigo.

indra.

inrique.

irwin.

isaak.

isaiah.

isaias.

ishmael.

isobell.

israel.

ivan.

ivey.

ivor.

ivory.

izzy.

starting with J ;;

jack.

jacob.

jagger.

jai.

james.

jamie.

jason.

jaspar.

jaxon.

jaydon.

jed.

jeremy.

jesse.

jett.

joel.

jameson.

jonathon.

jordan.

jose.

joseph.

joshua.

jude.

julian.

junior.

justin.

starting with K ;;

kade.

kai.

kalen.

kameron.

kane.

kasey.

kayden.

keaton.

keegan.

keenan.

kellan.

kendall.

kendrick.

kevin.

khalil.

kian.

kiefer.

kieran.

kingsley.

kingston.

klaus.

kohen.

konrad.

kristoff.

kyle.

starting with L ;;

lachlan.

lamar.

lambert.

lance.

landon.

langston.

lawrence.

lawson.

leeroy.

lennon.

leo.

leonardo.

levi.

lewis.

liam.

lincoln.

lionel.

logan.

lorenzo.

louis.

luca.

lucas.

lucky.

lucis.

luke.

starting with M ;;

mackenzie.

madden.

maddox.

malaki.

malcolm.

manuel.

marco.

marcus.

marley.

marshall.

martin.

mason.

matteo.

matthew.

max.

micah.

michael.

miguel.

mike.

miles.

miller.

milo.

mitchell.

morgan.

moses

starting with N ;;

nadir.

naiser.

nasir.

nate.

nathan.

nathaniel.

naveen.

naydon.

ned.

nico.

neil.

nelson.

nero.

nicholai.

nicholas.

nila.

niles.

nixon.

noah.

noel.

nolan.

norman.

north.

nylan.

nyle.

starting with O ;;

oakley.

ocean.

octavius.

odell.

olaf.

oliver.

ollie.

omar.

omari.

orion.

orlando.

osborn.

oscar.

o’shea.

osten.

oswald.

otis.

otto.

owen.

oxley.

starting with P ;;

pablo.

page.

palmer.

parker.

parrish.

patrick.

paul.

paulo.

pax.

paxton.

payton.

penn.

percy.

perry.

peter.

phineas.

phoenix.

pierce.

pierre.

prescott.

presley.

preston.

prince.

princeton.

puck.

starting with Q ;;

qadim.

qadir.

quain.

quenby.

quill.

quimby.

quincy.

quinn.

quinten.

starting with R ;;

randy.

raymond.

reese.

reid.

remy.

reuben.

rhett.

rhys.

richard.

richie.

ricky.

riley.

robert.

robin.

roger.

roman.

romeo.

ronan.

ronnie.

ross.

rowen.

ryan.

ryder.

ryker.

rylan.

starting with S ;;

sage.

sailor.

salem.

samson.

samuel.

sascha.

sawyer.

saxon.

scott.

sean.

sebastian.

seth.

shane.

shiloh.

simon.

sinclair.

skyler.

sonny.

spencer.

stanley.

stefan.

steven.

stevie.

storm.

sullivan.

starting with T ;;

tamir.

tanner.

tate/tait.

tatum.

taylor.

teddy.

theo.

thomas.

timothy.

tobias.

toby.

todd.

tommy.

tory.

trace.

travis.

trent.

trevor.

trey.

tristan.

troye.

tucker.

tyler.

tyrone.

tyson.

starting with U ;;

umair.

umar.

urien.

usama.

starting with V ;;

valentine.

valentino.

vance.

vaughn.

victor.

vincent.

vinn.

vinnie.

vladimir.

starting with W ;;

wade.

walden.

wallace.

walter.

warner.

warren.

warrick.

waylan.

wayne.

wendall.

wes.

wesley.

west.

whitley.

wilbert.

william.

willis.

wilmer.

windsor.

winslow.

winston.

wolf.

wren.

wyatt.

wynter.

starting with X ;;

xachary.

xan.

xander.

xavier.

xeno.

ximen.

xylon.

starting with Y ;;

yahto.

yakub.

yasin.

yasi.

york.

ysrael.

yuri.

yusef.

starting with Z ;;

zachary.

zahir.

zander.

zane.

zavier.

zed.

zeke.

zion.

zolten.

#nomes

[vrsegirl]

reminiscence.

fem! reader, scara and nahida would act like siblings change my mind, includes sumeru archon quest spoilers!

“would you mind telling me more about [name]?”

scaramouche had to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“excuse me?”

“[name]. i want to know more about her.”

the tiny god of wisdom gently rocks back and forth on her makeshift swing created by her control over dendro—watching over the city of sumeru with soft eyes whilst the former harbinger stares daggers onto the back of her head.

a sigh escapes the man's lips from behind her, a telltale sign of his incoming exasperation, “you read my mind without my permission again? i remember clearly telling you to cut it out, didn't i?” his annoyance doesn't come unnoticed by the observant child.

“it was quite improper of me to do so, but i'm the god of wisdom. i actively seek out knowledge, and such—i couldn't resist the temptation of peering onto a mind as eccentric as yours.” her tone remains understanding of his irritation, yet all the more wise in explaining her unwarranted prying.

the dark-haired male behind her hums, leaning back onto the tree as he shuts his eyes closed, seemingly given up on voicing his displeasure towards the archon.

“tell me what you know so i'll know where to start.”

his immediate compliance makes the curious child turn her head his way, staring at him with wide eyes.

“you...” nahida trails off as she smiles in relief, quickly reminding herself to not comment on his chosen act of opening up as he might get impatient and dismiss the subject altogether.

the distant chatter of her people down at the city successfully averts her attention from him, her eyes now gazing down at a certain blonde traveller stopping by to buy some supplies for their next adventure.

“you were dreaming of her during your slumber. she's...the fourth betrayal you encountered, correct?” nahida knows that you were anything but a betrayal, but she has to bend her words to his whims for now as to avoid a temper tantrum.

scaramouche hums in response.

“out of all the companions you've trusted, you seemed to cling onto your memories of her the most. why is that?”

“if you've read my mind, then i'm sure you already know why.”

“you're not gonna deny it?” the lesser lord cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, brows raised questioningly at his statement. “that you were in love, romantically?” she had carefully formed the question to give him the freedom of denying it just in case he wasn't ready to face his past just yet, but this situation was clearly something she didn't expect.

the male remains resting against the tree behind him, uncaring of the child's rather surprised gaze as his eyes stay shut. “if there's one thing you taught me while being under your care, it has to be acceptance.” he feels his anemo vision thrum to life by his chest, but he pays no mind to it as he continues, “i have nothing to lose now, so I might as well stop lying to myself to give my existence some type of meaning.”

nahida can't help the softening of her eyes towards the male, her smile widening by a fraction before she returns her gaze towards the city below her. if anything, that's probably his way of thanking her. it's a pretty roundabout way considering the better alternatives, but it managed to get the message across, didn't it?

she sighs in content, “that's essentially all I know about her. once again, would you mind telling me how she was like?”

you would probably pass out if you found out that the god of wisdom wishes to know more about you.

the ends of his lips twitch upwards for a moment as he thinks back on the memories he held dearly of you;

ranging from the embarrassing and funny moments you two shared like that one time you accidentally mistook him as a girl due to how graceful and fair his skin and face was, or up to the more intimate moments—like watching the narukami festival unfold along with its blooming fireworks from the mountain peaks of tatarasuna...

...and that one time he finally let your desires free and bared himself for you to touch—his first time.

he feels his cheeks burn at the thought, crossing his arms with a huff as if to breathe out the sinful thoughts.

now that he was free from the shackles of burdens and hatred, everything he experienced with you no longer seemed to be as bitter and disgusting to recall—unlike the times before where he'd have occasional dreams of you back in the fatui, the pettiness in his nerves as he calls it a nightmare that reminds him of how naïve and weak he was back then.

he returns to the matter at hand with a new sense of clarity—now what was he supposed to say again?

right. he was supposed to tell nahida about you.

he can't believe he's still blushing over you after all these centuries.

lifting his eyelids, the first thing he catches in his eyesight was nahida's knowing smile—directed right at him as she stays still on her swing.

why is she—?

oh.

making haste with his movements, he quickly lifts his hand to pull down his hat over his face, only to discover he wasn't wearing his hat at the moment—so pathetically enough, he opts to cover his face with a hand, shyly hiding his face from the grinning archon as he looks away with reddened cheeks and ears.

he got too carried away while reminiscing, it seems.

“i see...so you're still very much in love with her, hm?” nahida speaks up with a teasing tilt to her voice, relishing in this rare moment of the male's lowered guard, “not like i blame you. she was really pretty in your dreams, and probably even prettier in person.”

“shut up. do you want me to continue or not?”

with a quick apology amidst her fit of giggles, she nods, looking away once again from the eccentric wanderer to give him the privacy he deserves.

“sorry, sorry. now you may start.”

her curiousity is piqued. just how much of an impact did you make to cause the male to make such interesting reactions?

she's about to find out now, it seems.

might make part two idk

[vrsegirl]

dark academia male names:

maxon / darwin / caspian

arden / quinton / mangus

evander / gideon / warren

diggory / atticus / rylan

cassian / presley / alfred

theros / alwin / percy

milton / rowan / alexios

#nomes

[vrsegirl]

moony male names:

jericho / caliban / deimos

marama / oberon / tuncay

selenite / narvi / linus

apollo / aegaeon / chandra

vikesh / arche / isildur

kamer / zunair / janus

wolf / titan / ilkay

kamari / delano / hespero

#nomes

[vrsegirl]

can u recommend me some masculine vampiric/gothic names plz? thx in advance!

ooh, i know i’ll have fun with this one!

these are just some of my favorties, some of them might be a little unconventional

azrael

daemon / damon

grimoire

lugosi

nocturne

victor

thorn

enzo

noire

kieran

cassius

onyx

niko

fenix

theo

cain

hope you like these!

[vrsegirl]

🥀﹐MASC ANTAGONIST NAMES STARTING WITH M AND SHINING LIGHT NAMES ;

names: malice , maveric , malevolus , mort , moros , mortine , metis , merde , lucian , nell , luminesse , lux , luxenne , uri 

[vrsegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❤︎ ( users ) ཊ † ཉ

@religionhorror⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀@notaviolenta

@diariodemuerto ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ @ojosdehorror

@mycrueltorture⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀@tuscortadas

@sacrificioroto⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ @malsadico

@playthecaptor⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ @ojosangrante

@sonidodebruja⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ @miaurdidas

[vrsegirl]

ೃusers🪷

@notjtasamarte @diariosenblanco @milnovjecitos

@paginasrosaditas @mieternoqmor @dormireternqs

[vrsegirl]

— ✦* RELATIONSHIPS MASTERLIST

Eu, pessoalmente, sou uma grande fã de listas de conections. Sabe, aquelas com ideias de relações para personagens? É uma maneira muito eficaz de plotar, dá certo 90% das vezes e as pessoas podem ver quais tipos de plot você quer para seu personagem, dessa forma fica mais fácil plotar. Outra vantagem é pensar em quais tipos de relacionamento seu personagem teria, e isso ajuda bastante a ter uma ideia geral sobre o personagem. O problema é que essas listas de relacionamentos para personagens costumam estar em inglês, e não é todo mundo que manja ler as coisas em inglês, isso dificulta bastante. Por isso eu escolhi algumas das minhas listas de relacionamentos favoritas, misturei e traduzi. Outras vieram da minha cabeça mesmo. 

Espero que gostem, se vocês usarem, por favor curtam ou compartilhem!

Quantidade: 143 ideias de relações

Créditos: tweekofrp, verorpt

Continuar lendo

[vrsegirl]

symbols/letters

(𝑚𝜀𝑙𝜄𝑓𝑙𝜇𝜎) 𝛼 𝑏 𝑐 𝜕 𝜀 𝑓 𝑔 𝘩 𝜄 𝑗 𝜅 𝑙 𝑚 𝜋 𝜋̃ 𝜎

𝜌 𝑞 𝑟 𝑠 𝜏 𝜇 𝜈 𝜔 𝜘 𝜑 𝑧

▗▬̸̎͞/̄͆̅ ̎ ̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ι̚━─ ㅤㅤ𝄞 ㅤ۪𒈔⃛

᭩ 𖣁 ⬚͒ౢ ✧ ♡̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ ✿⃘ֹ ♡̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ ⠀ ✦

❀✦⠀⠀♬⠀⠀♪⠀⠀꠹ᭂ ྀྀི#⃞

▬̸⃨▬̸⃨ ིུ ⠀𐔌ི༏ྀ꣓ ⠀ ✦⠀♪ ूੂ ❤︎ ूੂ

♡๋ེ̥ெ ✿ ♪ 𝅗𝅥

[vrsegirl]

Symbols for bios ideas 💌

Soft symbols ideas

₊‧   ˖ ࣪  ་ 🐇 ໒꒱

  ִ ۫  . ☃️ ˙·.¸¸. ִ ۫  .

. ་   ˖ ࣪  ་ ❄ 𝄞  ִ ۫

. ་   ˖ ࣪  ་ 🧸 ࿐ ִ ۫ ⁎ .

Dark symbols ideas

، • ୨ ࣪ ⊹ 🦇 . . ݁ ٬٬ ࣪ ،

₊‧   ִ ۫ ⁎ . ⛼ . ⋆ ࣪.

₊‧ ༒ . . ݁٬ ࣪ ، 🕸️ ₊ ˖  ་

. . ݁ ٬٬ ࣪ ، ♥︎ ،  ࣪ ⊹ ֶָ

Some Random emoji

🕸️ 🌃 🦇 🧸 🕯 🧚🏻‍♀️ 🏰 🦋 🐇 🍕

🍁 ⛼ 🎭 🏙 🌙 🃏 🎸 🎤 🎙 🎼

📼 🎞 🎬 📺 💵 🏷 📟 🔭 🏮 📚

🔓 📦 📡✒ 📝 ✂️ ⛓ 🚬 ⚰ 🎧

🔱 🗺 👤 💤 💬 🦢 🥪 🍛 🍝 🥂

⚰️ 🎻 🎹 🍷 📎 🗯 🧛🏻‍♀️ 🧛🏻‍♂️ 🧟‍♀️ 🧟‍♂️

🎲 🗣🤳🏻 👣 💫 🀄 🎯 ⛸ 🏍 🎟

And some Kaomojis/Emoticons

ʕ๑•́ᴥ•̀๑ʔ є(•⌔•)э ʕ； •`ᴥ•´ʔ

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ૮₍ ˃̵ࡇ˂̵ ₎ა ૮˃̵֊ ˂̵ ა

✦ ★ ✦

[vrsegirl]

˖ ࣪ ִ ୨🥟୧ ᰱ ࣭ ⋆

🫁 ˖ ᰱ . ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ

꒰ ⊹ KISSU ֗ ִ  ۫  🌟