✪⛆

[lacedinweb22]

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧ 🕸 ୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

taglist sign up turn notifs on --(tagging sometimes fails so turn on notifs to be safe >:D) 18+ Mature setting toggle on --to avoid missing the NSFW 18+ stuff 😼 Requests must be from 18+ AGE IN BIO Wattpad- lacedinweb22 🏴‍☠️

Headcanons -

On Your Period nsfw 18+

Pudge and Cuddles nsfw 18+

Desperate to Breed, Desperate for Your Scent nsfw 18+

your neighbor, stoner Miguel nsfw 18+ ✥°o｡

Miguel babies you when you’re sick ⁺‧₊˚ nsfw 18+

Blurbs-

dirty, drunk blurb nsfw 18+

dirty, drunk blurb part two nsfw 18+

morning sex blurb ⋆:°* nsfw 18+

One-Shots -

Miguel talks you through it nsfw 18+

Miguel knows how to… nsfw 18+

Valentine’s Day ❦︎⋆˙ nsfw 18+

good kitty - Spidey catches Kitty. Miguel x Black Cat (reader) nsfw 18+

good girl - nsfw 18+ You're trying to study but Miguel has other plans. face r*iding included >:)

just a quick study break... - nsfw 18+ You've been studying for hours and decide it's time to rest your eyes and take a quick break. You're awaken to an even better study break.

daddy's coworker - nsfw 18+ Your father leaves you at home with his coworker (your little crush). He works in your father's office, and you... distract him.

clean me up - After your first time together, you and Miguel take a bath.

feeling guilty - pt.2 of ⬆️ Miguel feels guilty and cleans up your wounds.

rough night - nsfw 18+ Miguel comes home from work roughed up. You offer your care, but he really only needs one thing.

[lacedinweb22]

if you hate him so much *:･ Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader *:･ NSFW 18+

It’s been a while. 

Last time you talked to Miguel, you argued about where you two stood. It didn’t end well.

You ghosted him. Now, it’s been months. 

You hate him. Pushed away all feelings of love. It’s helped you.

Yet, here you stand outside of a mutual friend’s party—a party you forced yourself to go to even though there was a good chance he’d also be there—in the hallway, drunkenly making out.

So if you hate him so much, if he was so evil, so condescending, and confusing and useless, and if you decided you’d never see him–never love him the way you once did,

Why does he taste the same? Why does he have that same look in his eyes when he leans in to kiss you? Why does his hand have the same weight on your waist? Why does his stare have the same effect on your knees? Why is your breathing so shallow?

As you both stumble down creaking apartment stairs, stumble through the rain and into his car, his scent overwhelming you as you collapse on his lap in the backseat, you almost say it. 

If you hate him so much, why do the words push at your lips? From the bottom of your chest, up into your throat, pushing, so close to slipping out. Each kiss, each nip at your throat, the way he whispers your name between breaths—like he’s saying “we shouldn’t be doing this”—it pushes you closer to the edge. 

If you hate him so much, why do you have to force yourself to swallow those three words back down?

You push away the thought. You hate him. So much so, the space between your thighs is soaked.

And why do you have the feeling this could fix everything? No, it might just hurt you more, might really hurt, maybe it’s not right but, it’ll be quick—just a quick knick before blood clots and the self-inflicted wound resolves itself. You’ll be fine. 

Though it aches a bit now.

He makes it feel less painful. The warmth of his body under your thighs, his hand between them. His breath is so warm, he smells like you remember. His tongue is just as soft. He remembers how you like to be touched. 

If you hate him so much, why are you holding his hand as his fingers dip into you? The crimson in his eyes glows brighter, his grip grows stronger against your soft skin.

If you hate him so much, why does the sound of his quietly-escaping moans soak the cotton between your thighs? 

It doesn’t feel like hate. 

You wrap your teeth around his neck, you feel him smile, his hand drops to the small of your back. He turns his head into your hair, and inhales. He grips you, it's too much for him. "Baby," he whispers.

You bite. You hate him.

Your name spills out of his lips as you roll your hips into his. He grabs your ass tightly, pushing and pulling you against his hard-on. 

“You can use me,” he whispers into your lips. 

You nod. You’ll get something out of him. 

₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

coping

[syring3]

[lacedinweb22]

Wet Dreams *ੈ✩ blurb - Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

nsfw 18+

He walks over to you, slowly. You turn to look at the deafening rain beating hard against the window. He turns your cheek to him. 

“Miguel,” you whisper. You reach out to the wet t-shirt clinging to his abs. He looks like a dream. He has to be. 

He grabs your hand, gently holding it against him. 

“I’m here,” he whispers. 

“I … need you… please, ” you whisper, as he slowly crawls on top of you, hovering over you now. 

“Show me,” he whispers, leaning into your neck. 

His lips brush against your skin, he slides a hand down your waist. You grab his hand, guiding him down under the sheets, under your pajama shorts and against wet underwear.

He smiles against your lips.

“Are you real?” you breathe out.

He nods, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Want me to prove it to you?” he asks, fangs brushing your bottom lip. 

You nod. His calloused palm brushes up your lower belly, feeling your warm, soft flesh. 

He reaches you, starting to slowly trace circles into you through your pajamas, then slowly lowers himself down, throwing the sheets over himself. 

He drags his hand back down to your heat, rough fingertips touching you, so heavy, perfect pressure.

He raises your tank top up your belly, spreading soft kisses down your stomach. He kisses down your hips, pulling your shorts down. 

He finally has you in just your underwear. You lift the sheets to watch as he slides them down, painfully slow, seductively. You comb your fingers through his wet hair, as he presses his lips to your heat. 

You sigh, feeling his wet hair trickle on your lower belly, and his warm lips surrounding your sensitive bud. He sucks gently, fingers massaging your thighs.

He drags his tongue down your slit, gathering your slick along his lips, preparing you for the real thing.

Things get hotter, more intense, finally his hips roll into yours as his fangs dig into your neck.

You throw your head back as he maintains his rhythm; he knows exactly how to get you off.

You feel the knot in your core—the knot only he can tie, and the knot only he can unravel. 

****

You wake up, turning to where Miguel once laid. He’s gone. 

You sit up slowly, feeling the wet mess between your thighs. 

There’s fingerprints bruised into your soft thighs. 

After a night of blowing smoke and laughing on his couch, 

you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.

You’re frustrated. Your sense of reality is beyond off, but if it was just a dream… how lucky to have such a wild imagination…

--------

Excerpt from Vampire Next Door on my Wattpad ;)

[lacedinweb22]

high ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ blurb - Miguel O'hara x fem!reader

nsfw 18+

You look up at him as he hovers over you as you, sitting with your legs crossed on his couch.

“Ladies first,” he smirks, up to no good.

“Such a gentleman.”

He gently places the joint in between your lips, then lifts the lighter to its tip, lighting it, eyes on yours as you look up at him. Seductive. 

You inhale, “Good girl,” he mutters lowly, observing the way your lips are wrapped around the joint, between his fingers.

You release it, exhaling.

He sits down beside you, then does the same thing, pretty natural. You watch him intently.

He takes a long drag then offers it in front of your lips, you lean forward and catch it, copying the duration of his drag. 

He hums then you exhale.

“That’s enough for now,” he mutters, putting it out. 

His hands rest on your calves, then somehow find their way to your feet. 

Sore from heels, his touch feels orgasmic. 

His hands are so big, so strong, resulting in next level massages. 

“God,” you exhale, hands covering your eyes.

Fuck, you’re feeling it. You’re heavy, sleepy, drunk, feeling all sorts of intoxicated, in the best way possible. 

“Feels so good,” you say, practically a moan. 

“‘m high, Mig. I feel so warm,” you say in a whine, stretching, somehow climbing on top of him, now straddling him. 

He exhales, helping you settle on him. His hands rest on your thighs. He sighs.

You look down at him. His eyes are red, he’s so clearly high, and his pupils are dilated—it’s a look that makes you feel heavier than you already feel. 

His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you tightly against him.

“Baby,” he whispers.

“Hm,” you kiss his neck. 

“You’re high… high and drunk. Maybe we should callit anight,” he suggests, like he’s not also intoxicated.

“mm Mig don’t leave me high and dry,” you whisper into his neck. 

You drag his hand lazily to the heat between your thighs. 

His fingers massage the ache as your own hand feels him through his sweatpants.

“Can’t do it by myself,” you whisper, finding your hips rolling into his. He welcomes it, hands moving to grip your hips, pushing and pulling you as you grind through silky panties onto his clothed erection, desperate for friction. 

It’s clear you share the same desires.

Everything is more intense, in slow motion, the ache in your stomach is deeper, feels so good, so different.

“Fuck, y/n,” he moans into your neck, hands tightly gripping your ass. 

He looks up at you with red, drowsy eyes, needy, completely at your mercy. 

“Just want you to feel g-good. All I want, baby,” he exhales, eyes on yours. 

You throw your head back, tugging his hair, “Fuck—feel so good, Mig. Keep— like that,” you whine.

He keeps up. You feel it approaching, squeezing him tighter, lips clashing with his. 

You kiss messily, high and desperate, cheeks red in the dark.

“Need more, need to feel you,” you moan, lips parted against his as you breathe heavily. 

“Too fucking bad,” he exhales, breathing against your lips. 

“Mm I don’t want to finish around… nothing. Your fingers, you, please, just need—”

“Don’t get greedy, princesa. This is enough for now,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“hate you.”

He smirks up at you, fangs on display.

“Starting over, baby, remember? We gotta start slow.”

“Slow,” you whisper back.

“Mhm,” he hums, keeping the rhythm. 

You keep moving, slowly, deep full motions, so intense you can imagine how he feels, how deep he’d fit inside.

He imagines your velvet walls, how tight you’d feel around him, the way he’d hit right where you need him, right where only he could reach—he just wants to make you feel good. 

But you’re “starting over,” so for now, this’ll do—it’s more than enough, really.  

Opening his eyes for just a second pushes him to the edge: the way your eyebrows are knit together, the way your thighs are spread across his lap, the way your lips are parted by a whimper, parted by the way you moan his name. 

“Y/n, you’re gonna makeme—fuck, baby—” he groans, lips at your jaw, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Mig,” 

You both finish, your walls fluttering around nothing, and the inside of his boxers facing the consequence.

You kiss passionately, slow, then when you part, he whispers that he’s gotta clean up. You relight the joint and take a lengthy drag, it's only the beginning of a long night.

｡･:*:･

[lacedinweb22]

possessive *ੈ❦︎‧ Miguel O'Hara boyfriend headcanons nsfw 18+

❦︎ Miguel has Lyla track your location 24/7 (practically spying on you), giving him updates every time you move locations, making sure you’re not alone or in danger zones, and if you are, he’ll show up to scold and pick you up.

❦︎ He’ll be focused on work then suddenly demand, “Lyla, update on Y/N,” eyebrows furrowed, never breaking the concentrated look on his face, to which Lyla will pop up, giggling to herself; she’ll tell you about it later, and tease him in front of you. 

❦︎ When you’re on your phone for a while, he lingers, watching what pictures you like or who you follow, secretly judging or resisting the urge to passive-aggressively comment on someone he suspects wants you. He pretends he’s not watching you, but he’s glancing between your screen and his hologram screen. 

❦︎ He trusts you … but he does look through your phone if you leave it lying around. You’ve told him you don’t care, you have nothing to hide, but it’s in his nature. He also asks Lyla to check the recent people you’ve texted or called, which she refuses, then he overrides. 

❦︎ He hates the stares you get when outside, makes his blood boil, though most men are too intimidated to look your way once they see Miguel. However, when you're at a cash register or any situation where you might interact with a creep, he'll stand in front of you. He'd much rather deal with strangers than let you. You cling to his forearm, as he blocks you, and he'll confront or give them a hell of an attitude for looking your way.

❦︎ After you tell him about a coworker’s advances towards you at work, he’s extra needy. He follows you around the apartment more, wraps his arms around you as you cook (nothing too abnormal), and inhales your scent; he could never lose his perfect girl. You’ll reassure him, and when things heat up later that night, he’ll let you know in hungry growls, that you’re his and his only. He digs his face into your neck and whimpers your name when he finishes inside of you, claiming you as his. You can't blame him; he just wants you to be his. The hickeys spread across your body, the claw marks across your ass— he’ll always get his point across. 

[lacedinweb22]

Intimate ❦︎⊹₊˚ Miguel O’Hara blurb 

nsfw 18+

He's not the type to fuck you mindlessly. He sinks into you. He takes his sweet time. 

He mutters words of importance, beautiful strings of Spanish profanities, complimenting the way your velvet walls surround him. 

His body is heavy, hovering over yours, colliding into yours with every deep thrust. Soft, tan, and scarred skin glistens with sweat—too pretty not to mark up, with bruises, or scratches.

Crimson eyes stare into yours, claws rip the sheets beside you. Every kiss at your neck comes with the threat of sharp fangs, grazing sensitive skin. 

He feels so incredibly filling, his tip squeezing into the deepest corner of you, rubbing your most sensitive spot. 

He knows how to make you feel good, grinds up and into you, one hand at your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw, and the other hand with a thumb against your clit, at a slow and gentle pace. 

Your end crashes over you in waves. Miguel kisses your neck, praising you, “such a good girl,” as his hips brush against yours. His climax is quick to follows yours.

You twirl your fingers in his hair as you watch him take his turn.

You observe the way his jaw clenches, the way his fist grips the sheets, his other hand holding your face, as he kisses you repeatedly, cussing in between. He digs his face into your neck trying to control his reaction to bliss, before coming back up to finish with a lengthy passionate, messy kiss. 

[lacedinweb22]

nsfw 18+

Sleepy Miguel, who lazily f*ngers you in between cold sheets.

You lay on your side. Miguel is behind you, breathing into your neck, whispering sweet nothings as his hard-on presses against you. His big hand slides from your hips to between your thighs. He pulls your thigh towards him, propping one leg up. Now you’re open for him. 

His middle finger fiddles with your underwear, his fingertip slowly teasing the trim of your panties. “¿Qué quieres, hermosa? Use your words,” he whispers, fangs grazing your neck. 

“You’re so close to giving it to me,” you breathe out annoyed, pulling his hair. 

His finger finally makes it under soaked cloth. He slides against your slit, slowly grazing over the wet heat he’s opened up. He presses his fingertip to your opening, slowly entering, just the tip of his finger. 

You grab his hand, squeezing it tightly, begging.

He kisses your jaw, then slowly gives you what you want.  

He eases two fingers into you, sucking on your neck, as you adjust around his fingers.

One thumb grazes your clit, while he lazily pumps his lengthy digits into you. 

It’s a lazy morning, and it’s evident in his voice. His lips are pressed against your neck, as he mutters lowly, his voice sending vibrations across your skin, “So tight.”

In one movement, he pulls you over his body.

You’re on top of him. Straddling him as he lays on his back, slowly moving your hips against him, as you bury your face in his neck, sucking. His hand remains between you, now curling up into you, thumb massaging your clit. 

He’s sleepy, lowly muttering a string of Spanish curse words, encouraging you, complimenting the wet and tight walls surrounding his lengthy fingers. 

“So early in the day, and you’re already this wet for me, princesa? Hm?” he questions, smirking, fangs revealed. 

You moan in reply, thighs squeezing around his hips.

You grind against his hard-on, pushing against the fingers he’s using to draw your orgasm out.

You begin to collapse on him, your thighs feeling the tingles of your climax.

He digs his face in your neck, whispering your name, watching intently as you unravel.

[lacedinweb22]

Miguel babies you when you’re sick ⁺‧₊˚ boyfriend headcanons Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader  

nsfw 18+ towards end

⊹ At the first sign of a cold, he’s on it, forcing you to stay on the couch, drink water, and take zinc supplements every three hours. You tell him to stay away, but he insists that his immune system will fight it off, which always proves true. He wraps you up in blankets and cuddles you. 

⊹ You’ll dig your face in his neck, groaning and complaining about the aches you feel all over, while he massages your neck dipping his fingertips up into your hair, massaging your neck, then tracing down to your back. His hands are so strong, he effortlessly gives you the best massages of your life. He whispers into your hair, “Sana sana colita de rana. Dame un besito para hoy y mañana” (Heal heal little frog's tail. Give me a little kiss for today and tomorrow).

⊹ He’ll make you soup, bringing it to you in a mug so you can sip on it as he wraps you up in his arms while you watch your favorite comedy together. He’ll give you endless kisses on your head as he holds you. 

⊹ As you’re curled up against his chest, kissing his neck gently, he’ll massage your thighs, which eventually progresses to his face in between your thighs as he wants so desperately to make you feel good when you feel so shitty. 

⊹ He’ll drink you up. He’ll place gentle kisses around your heat, before going straight to town, lapping at your core as you arch your back against the blankets under you, moaning and whining from the pleasure, the much-needed release of tension from your body. As he sucks gently on your sensitive bud, his hands explore your thighs then go up under your t-shirt and onto your belly, as he squeezes, and massages your warm flesh. His fingers massage your lower belly, making you more sensitive, bringing you your orgasm, the first of many. 

⊹ He runs you a hot shower and joins you, carefully lathering soap all over you, his big hands massaging your aching body. He sits down on the ledge, rubbing soap onto your thighs, hips, and stomach, then tracing his big hands up to your breasts, gently massaging as he looks up at you lovingly. He gets back up and urges you to turn around so he can rinse the soap from your hair. He gently combs his lengthy fingers through your locks then moves your hair, giving himself access to your neck, kissing and sucking gently on wet skin. “I’m sorry you’re sick, cariño,” he mutters into your neck. “Make me feel better,” you whisper back, pressing your ass against him. He does just that, turning you back around so he can kiss you, and press you up against the tile wall. He holds your thigh against his hip, opening you up, and thrusting up into you slowly, gently, providing endless kisses, endless words of encouragement, “Like that, baby. Does that feel good, princesa? Am I making you feel better?” he’ll whisper, brushing your wet hair from out of your face. Your nails dig into the back of his biceps, as you look up at him, head thrown back against the tile, moans and heavy breathing echoing through the steamy bathroom. His tip massages up into your g-spot, his slow strokes bringing the blissful ache in your stomach down to your thighs, as you begin to c*m around him, throbbing as he bottoms out into you, muttering cuss words as his lips brush against your forehead. 

⊹ After your shower, he'll massage vaporub onto your neck and chest, then help you put on your pajamas (one of his t-shirts and sweats), then he’ll give you some hardcore cold medicine, the kind that is quick to knock you out. He insists you get in bed, but you want to watch more of your show. So he’ll oblige and spoon you sideways on his big couch as you both watch TV, his hands running all over you, under your t-shirt, massaging you, feeling you, actively trying to find ways to make you feel better. He’s propped up on one elbow as you lay in front of him. He eventually sees you’ve succumbed to the medicine and so easily carries you to bed.

[lacedinweb22]

nsfw 18+

◦○ Miguel knows how to make you c*m. ○◦

He’s studied you for hours at a time. He’s learned you inside and out. He knows how to keep his mouth latched to you, with his long middle and ring finger thrusting in and out of you simultaneously. He knows what speed, how much pressure; you could swear he’s gotten a hold of some secret textbook on it. 

You whine, back arching from the pressure, how effortlessly he slides his fingers into you, stretching you out. “Use your words,” he’ll breathe out, looking up at you for a second, smirking, still thrusting his lengthy digits in and out of you. “You’re mean,” you moan out, pulling at the roots of his hair. “I can be mean,” he’ll mutter, pulling his fingers out, slowing down his tongue against your bud. You feel the orgasm coming in and out, he stops abruptly; you whine in frustration. He squeezes your thigh, looks up at you, “What was that, baby?” he smirks, fangs showing. “Fuck you,” you groan, throwing your head back, closing your thighs in on him. He pries you back open, “uh huh, that’s what I thought,” he huffs, before slowly inserting two fingers back in, and getting back to work. He wraps his lips around you, licking your core slowly, sucking on you, perfect calculated pressure. 

And after he’s gotten the job done… multiple times… he knows how to clean you up, the wet mess he’s made, the mess he’ll use when he puts something more filling in you. 

ꔫ NEEEEEDDDDD please god!!! I’m never getting over him. Fuck. Anyways ꔫ

[lacedinweb22]

nsfw 18+

Tonight, Miguel talks you through it.

“You got it baby, you’re doing so good for me.” It catches you off guard. He watches how you moan, looking back and forth between your plump, wet lips, and the way your hips move on him. He lets you ride him slowly; he loves watching you unravel on top of him, he lives to watch how well you take him. His big hand is stroking your long hair, fingers brushing your lower back before he pulls at it, earning your whines. “Just like that,” he mutters, one hand on your ass as you slowly grind against him. “You take me so well, hermosa, keep going.” You respond in moans, his words putting butterflies in your stomach. He hasn’t been this vocal before, talking you through it. “Go slower baby, just a bit, así, fuuck así,” he groans, throwing his head back, eyebrows knit together in pleasure. You stare at his parted lips, in awe of how beautiful he is, how excruciatingly hot he is. Sweat glazes his tan skin, his dark brown waves are tousled, and the crimson in his eyes glows brighter. 

The tip perfectly rubs into your g spot as you slowly grind on him; you feel your end coming. “Baby,” you whine; he recognizes it immediately. “Finish for me, baby, come on,” he encourages, looking down at your hips then back at the sweaty, whiny mess you’ve become. His big hand holds your waist, supporting you as you start to unravel. You let out your final cries, when he starts to finish too. Slowly, achingly, he breathes out, “Baby, god, Y/N,” as he finishes inside of you, grunting and whining under your hips. You place your hand on his lower chest, supporting your weight as you crumble on top of him. His big hand envelops yours, he squeezes gently as he throws his head back, letting you slow down to a halt. “You did so good, baby,” he breathes out, giving you an encouraging thigh squeeze. He looks up at you so lovingly, urging you to you lean down to kiss him. Sinking further into the kiss, you collapse on top of him, allowing him to now wrap his arms around your waist, breathing in unison. You stay like that for a while. 

ₓₒ⋆:°*

[lacedinweb22]

Valentine’s Day ❦︎ (smutty one-shot) ❦︎⋆˙⊹ ❦︎ ⋆˙⊹ Miguel O’Hara x Fem!reader

nsfw 18+ ୨୧

You come back from work, feet sore, back sore, in need of him.

First thing you notice are the flowers on the kitchen counter. A massive assortment of red roses, with a note sticking out. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mi princesa. You’re my valentine today and everyday,” your cheeks are warm. You put the note down, slowly taking your shoes off as you look around. “Forever” by The Little Dippers leaks out of your bedroom.

You walk down the hall, slowly opening the door.

There he is. Hair tousled from running a stressed hand through so many times, a snug white button up rolled up at his forearms, muscles on display, black slacks, and a black leather belt… perfect. He’s pouring moscato into the wine glasses on the dresser, he looks up at you calmly, the calm you so desperately needed after a day like today. His eyes soften as they lay on you.

“Baby,” you exhale, walking into him. “Hermosa,” he sits the moscato bottle down, leaning down into you, breathing in the smell of your hair. You dig your face into his chest. The smell of his cologne makes you weak. His hands are snug around your waist, holding you tightly against him. You look up at him, he leans down your lips meet in the middle.

He strokes your hair, “I’m sorry you had to work today, but I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers before kissing you again. You nod.

You lean against the dresser, he hands you a glass. It’s your favorite moscato. He keeps one hand on your waist, still holding you, as he picks up his glass with the other hand. “Happy Valentine’s, Y/N,” he smiles, tapping his glass to yours. “Happy Valentine’s, Miguel.” His eyes are on yours as you sip. You put it down, then start to take off your coat. He notices and immediately goes behind you, helping you take it off.

“Think I’m gonna change,” you mutter, moving your hair to the front, as he helps you.

You start to unbutton your blouse, but stop when he drops to his knees, slowly unbuttoning your pants. You look down at him, hands in his hair. His eyes are now on your black lace panties, as he slowly pulls your pants down. His fingers trace underneath the thin cloth on your hips, fingers massaging your skin. You don’t feel the need to change anymore. He stands back up, looking at the black lace bra now exposed under your button-up. He smirks, fangs on display, then leans down into your neck, sucking gently. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs and he picks you up like you weigh nothing.

You make out, taste the moscato on his lips. He lays you on your bed, then crawls on top of you, now hovering over you, hips touching, his hard-on pressing into your underwear. You moan into his mouth, as his fingers grip your waist tightly.

“Need you,” you moan in between kisses. He kisses your neck, “I’m here, baby, you can have me,” he mutters lowly into your skin. You look down and unbuckle his belt; he watches you, brushing the hair out of your face.

Finally, he’s in just his boxer briefs, and you can see so much through the stressed cloth. “We have reservations at 7:00,” he whispers in between kisses. “We have time,” you whisper back. He moans in your mouth as you grab him from out of his boxers, and press him against your heat.

He kisses down your neck as you pull his hips into yours, trailing down to your shoulder, pulling your blouse to the side.

He enters slowly, only half of him in you. He bites your shoulder, moaning into your skin. “Missed you, Mig,” you moan, as he slowly inches in and out of you, letting you adjust. “Missed how big you are,” you whine.

He kisses you, then slowly enters, now fully, you both moan at the pressure. He thrusts in and out, kissing you hard.

It’s slow and passionate, and you feel every inch of him intensely. He groans into your ear, “Been thinking about you all day. You feel so good, chula.”

The music is still playing on the record player; he digs his face in your neck.

He slides one hand down to your heat, rubbing at your core. “Does that feel good for you, my girl? Like that?” he groans, which you bite your lip in response, suppressing your gasps.

Perfect pressure and perfect fullness begin to bring you to your end. You start to unravel; you wrap your legs around him, bringing him closer, deeper.

He sucks on your neck, then pulls away to whisper into your mouth, “Baby, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” you exhale, slowly finishing around him.

He throbs inside of you, filling you up. You bite his lip, moans filling the room.

*im drunk AF and I’m ending it here LOVE Y’ALL so much 💌 HAPPY VALENTINE’S 💋💋💋* -G

[lacedinweb22]

Angel Taglist ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა : @wingedturtledream @skaochii  @bat-yo-us @lostpirate79 @renn-pumkin-head @princessa-micomicona @waiif-uwu @punpuun @thbidkbutok @acehyacinth @thetoetickler @kaqua @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @inafantasyworld10 @d1lf-loverrr @altheadq @thesilenthill @trash-king18 @imnotyourbcbe @tiffanypooh @ihateuguys @littlemissilovecoconuts @royal-jester @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @tbh2idk @gilliantate23 @envyjmoney @qiaipia @ur-fav-ginger @lacook246 @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @blair6th @missing2socks @thel0velykey190 @ladymoztaza @ta3bae @dhollandhs @minalovesyoubabes @mj-szaa @lyn-soso @frenchsfryys @meeom @tojishugetiddies @2feng2cry @raypook @keiva1000 @migueloharastruelove @maxicorn @prettylil-teine @mr-sol @anmilk @eddieslooneymoonie @meganswife 

If you weren’t tagged but requested to be tagged, I TRIED but I think your tagging setting toggle is disabled! Turn on notifs or message me to try to work it out 💋

[lacedinweb22]

Valentine’s Day ❦︎ (smutty one-shot) ❦︎⋆˙⊹ ❦︎ ⋆˙⊹ Miguel O’Hara x Fem!reader

nsfw 18+ ୨୧

You come back from work, feet sore, back sore, in need of him.

First thing you notice are the flowers on the kitchen counter. A massive assortment of red roses, with a note sticking out. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mi princesa. You’re my valentine today and everyday,” your cheeks are warm. You put the note down, slowly taking your shoes off as you look around. “Forever” by The Little Dippers leaks out of your bedroom.

You walk down the hall, slowly opening the door.

There he is. Hair tousled from running a stressed hand through so many times, a snug white button up rolled up at his forearms, muscles on display, black slacks, and a black leather belt… perfect. He’s pouring moscato into the wine glasses on the dresser, he looks up at you calmly, the calm you so desperately needed after a day like today. His eyes soften as they lay on you.

“Baby,” you exhale, walking into him. “Hermosa,” he sits the moscato bottle down, leaning down into you, breathing in the smell of your hair. You dig your face into his chest. The smell of his cologne makes you weak. His hands are snug around your waist, holding you tightly against him. You look up at him, he leans down, your lips meet in the middle.

He strokes your hair, “I’m sorry you had to work today, but I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers before kissing you again. You nod.

You lean against the dresser, he hands you a glass. It’s your favorite moscato. He keeps one hand on your waist, still holding you, as he picks up his glass with the other hand. “Happy Valentine’s, Y/N,” he smiles, tapping his glass to yours. “Happy Valentine’s, Miguel.” His eyes are on yours as you sip. You put it down, then start to take off your coat. He notices and immediately goes behind you, helping you take it off.

“Think I’m gonna change,” you mutter, moving your hair to the front, as he helps you.

You start to unbutton your blouse, but stop when he drops to his knees, slowly unbuttoning your pants. You look down at him, hands in his hair. His eyes are now on your black lace panties, as he slowly pulls your pants down. His fingers trace underneath the thin cloth on your hips, fingers massaging your skin. You don’t feel the need to change anymore. He stands back up, looking at the black lace bra now exposed under your button-up. He smirks, fangs on display, then leans down into your neck, sucking gently. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs and he picks you up like you weigh nothing.

You make out, taste the moscato on his lips. He lays you on your bed, then crawls on top of you, now hovering over you, hips touching, his hard-on pressing into your underwear. You moan into his mouth, as his fingers grip your waist tightly.

“Need you,” you moan in between kisses. He kisses your neck, “I’m here, baby, you can have me,” he mutters lowly into your skin. You look down and unbuckle his belt; he watches you, brushing the hair out of your face.

Finally, he’s in just his boxer briefs, and you can see so much through the stressed cloth. “We have reservations at 7:00,” he whispers in between kisses. “We have time,” you whisper back. He moans in your mouth as you grab him from out of his boxers, and press him against your heat.

He kisses down your neck as you pull his hips into yours, trailing down to your shoulder, pulling your blouse to the side.

He enters slowly, only half of him in you. He bites your shoulder, moaning into your skin. “Missed you, Mig,” you moan, as he slowly inches in and out of you, letting you adjust. “Missed how big you are,” you whine.

He kisses you, then slowly enters, now fully, you both moan at the pressure. He thrusts in and out, kissing you hard.

It’s slow and passionate, and you feel every inch of him intensely. He groans into your ear, “Been thinking about you all day. You feel so good, chula.”

The music is still playing on the record player; he digs his face in your neck.

He slides one hand down to your heat, rubbing at your core. “Does that feel good for you, my girl? Like that?” he groans, which you bite your lip in response, suppressing your gasps.

Perfect pressure and perfect fullness begin to bring you to your end. You start to unravel; you wrap your legs around him, bringing him closer, deeper.

He sucks on your neck, then pulls away to whisper into your mouth, “Baby, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” you exhale, slowly finishing around him.

He throbs inside of you, filling you up. You bite his lip, moans filling the room.

*im drunk AF and I’m ending it here LOVE Y’ALL so much 💌 HAPPY VALENTINE’S 💋💋💋* -G

[lacedinweb22]

New Year, New Me ❅˚⋆୧

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱✮♱ Vampire Next Door (ch. 11) prev part

nsfw 18+

⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹

You’re on top of Miguel, drunk, vision hazy, giggling at everything he says, lowly, drunk, practically purring into your neck. He smiles up at you, his nose brushing against your neck. 

You pull at the roots of his hair, as he groans at the pressure beneath you. You’re the right amount of drunk. You’ll remember this, you hope to god you’ll remember it clearly. You note every movement he makes, how his eyebrows scrunch when you slow down, every groan that escapes his plump, wet lips, remember how he sounds, how the low vibrations leave his mouth and go straight to the space between your thighs. 

You move your hips slowly, his hands guiding your rhythm. He groans into your neck, breathing you in deeply; he’s trying to control himself, “Y/N… god.”

You feel his nails digging into your pajamas, sharp, painful, but the pleasure outweighs the pain. You ignore it. 

You moan into his hair, “Mig… please, keep going,” the pressure is perfect, building up at your core, as the soft plush of your pajama pants pushes against his hard-on. Your hips begin to stutter, a sign of your end, he squeezes your hips tighter, steadying you, as he murmurs, “Like that, chula? Look at you, such a pretty mess for me,” he groans, then shuts his eyes tightly as he winces in your neck, like watching you get off will bring him to ruins. 

The heat spreads across your thighs, relaxing your muscles, your hips slow down. You moan into his mouth, breathing in his air. 

“Fuck, Mig,” you exhale, pausing suddenly, looking down at the rise and fall of his chest. 

You take in what just happened. Your cheeks are already flushed, but now somehow a shade darker. 

“God, I–”

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, looking up at you, brushing the hair out of your face. 

You lean into his touch, sighing. You put your hand on his hand, feeling how big his hand is under yours. 

He leans out, looking over your shoulder at the clock resting on his vinyl-stuffed cabinets.

“11:59” he whispers, looking back at you, his cheeks flushed. 

“Haven’t had enough, hm?”

He shakes his head. 

“One more, to start the new year off right,” he shrugs, arms still resting around your hips, fingers tapping at your lower back, eyes lowly looking at your lips. 

You nod. 

He puts his hand to your cheek, looks into your eyes then back down at your lips. So gentle.

You lean down and meet the warm embrace of his lips. You hear the fireworks going off somewhere in the distance, and you feel the fireworks. Your nerves are sparked, and the way he looks at you makes your stomach drop. 

It’s officially a new year, new you, new start. And Miguel is right there with you at the start. It’s like you’re staring at your future; you want him to stay. 

You grab your glass and sip a generous amount; you offer Miguel. He accepts, keeping his eyes on yours as you hold the glass to his lips. 

You kiss again, and his lips are cold, wet, tasting of the maraschino cherries that have sunk to the bottom of your glass. 

****

You look in the mirror, turning to view the sides of your plush pajamas. They’re ripped, right along your hips, right where he was holding you. Four small tears on both sides. 

HOW…?

You quickly lower them, looking at the skin that’s barely been broken, a tinge of purple spreading from the tears. 

****

“Screams, fangs, claws. He’s a… a vampire,” you exclaim. 

You throw yourself on your bed, watching your best friend’s reaction through the screen.

“I’m just surprised it’s taken you this long to figure that out. I mean there’s Spider-Man, there’s Velvet Vigilante; a vampire isn’t so far-fetched.” 

“Ash, what the hell am I supposed to do about that? I still like him, I still want him. If anything, this just makes him… hotter.”

“Oh my god… this just makes him hotter. To be fair, you haven’t seen any bodies, he hasn’t threatened to suck the blood out of you, is it bad that I want to see how this plays out? No wait, he’s probably murdered people, Y/N. Let’s not romanticize murder.”

“You just agreed it made him hotter, hypocrite. Let’s say he has… hurt people. He’s my friend, I can’t tell anyone, can’t call anyone, it’s Mig. I mean I can’t–”

There’s a knock at your door. 

“There’s a knock.”

“What? Who?... Maybe Dracula heard you talking shit.”

“I’ll text you later.”

You shut your laptop.

You look through the peep hole. It’s a woman. 

“Hiiii, I’m a friend of Mig’s,” she says, sing-songy, her nails tapping rhythmically on your door.

You open the door. 

“Wow. It’s you. I’m Vel. V-E-L. Tell him I stopped by, will you?” She points at Miguel’s door. Her voice is rich, heavy, hot. 

She looks you up and down, smirking.

She reaches a hand out to you, you shake it. Her nails are long, flawlessly painted a grayish pink.

“Hi, Vel. How do you… know him?”

“Wow, you’re his neighbor, huh. I didn’t like the last guy… kicked the bucket, I hope, thank god,” she jokes, crossing her fingers in front of her face. 

“I mean… I got a pretty sick apartment out of it?” you attempt to match her energy. 

She’s gorgeous. You could feel threatened at the fact that she knows Miguel, but you’re too in awe. She’s gorgeous: platinum blonde hair, sharp cat eyeliner, and a velvet choker adorning her neck. 

“What’s your name, babe?” 

“Y/N,” you answer, nodding, as she looks you up and down. 

“That’s it. Knew it, knew it. Mig’s mentioned you,” she grins, resembling the cheshire cat.

“All good things, better than good, really.” 

“Wow, better than good. What can I say?”

“Not much more. Gotta go, babe,” she winks then walks away, the sound of her heels noisily echoing down the hall.

She’s flirty, shutting you up, single-handedly confusing the shit out of you, leaving you in your doorway, dumbfounded. You could see how her and Miguel would be friends. 

[lacedinweb22]

lovely taglist 2: @missing2socks @ladymoztaza @dhollandhs @minalovesyoubabes @mj-szaa @ivvieene @deputy-videogamer @kinkybandages @murnsondock @obi-mom-kenobi @rjasmin2021 @syarblu @cheezit-luv3rr @sukioyakio @maripositanoctruna @coffeeislifeyes @lilmissyrainbowstar @atlaincorrect @mj-szaa @ivvieene @corpsebridenightamare @spktrgantenk @tangy4ever @lyn-soso @2joos2cry @frenchsfryys @meeom @pedroslvt @tojishugetiddies @2feng2cry @raypook @keiva1000 @migueloharastruelove @maxicorn @prettylil-teine @mr-sol @eddieslooneymoonie @meganswife 

If you weren’t tagged but requested to be tagged, I TRIED but I think your tagging setting toggle is disabled! Turn on notifs or message me to try to work it out 💋

[lacedinweb22]

New Year, New Me ❅˚⋆୧

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱✮♱ Vampire Next Door (ch. 11) prev part

nsfw 18+

⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹

You’re on top of Miguel, drunk, vision hazy, giggling at everything he says, lowly, drunk, practically purring into your neck. He smiles up at you, his nose brushing against your neck. 

You pull at the roots of his hair, as he groans at the pressure beneath you. You’re the right amount of drunk. You’ll remember this, you hope to god you’ll remember it clearly. You note every movement he makes, how his eyebrows scrunch when you slow down, every groan that escapes his plump, wet lips, remember how he sounds, how the low vibrations leave his mouth and go straight to the space between your thighs. 

You move your hips slowly, his hands guiding your rhythm. He groans into your neck, breathing you in deeply; he’s trying to control himself, “Y/N… god.”

You feel his nails digging into your pajamas, sharp, painful, but the pleasure outweighs the pain. You ignore it. 

You moan into his hair, “Mig… please, keep going,” the pressure is perfect, building up at your core, as the soft plush of your pajama pants pushes against his hard-on. Your hips begin to stutter, a sign of your end, he squeezes your hips tighter, steadying you, as he murmurs, “Like that, chula? Look at you, such a pretty mess for me,” he groans, then shuts his eyes tightly as he winces in your neck, like watching you get off will bring him to ruins. 

The heat spreads across your thighs, relaxing your muscles, your hips slow down. You moan into his mouth, breathing in his air. 

“Fuck, Mig,” you exhale, pausing suddenly, looking down at the rise and fall of his chest. 

You take in what just happened. Your cheeks are already flushed, but now somehow a shade darker. 

“God, I–”

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, looking up at you, brushing the hair out of your face. 

You lean into his touch, sighing. You put your hand on his hand, feeling how big his hand is under yours. 

He leans out, looking over your shoulder at the clock resting on his vinyl-stuffed cabinets.

“11:59” he whispers, looking back at you, his cheeks flushed. 

“Haven’t had enough, hm?”

He shakes his head. 

“One more, to start the new year off right,” he shrugs, arms still resting around your hips, fingers tapping at your lower back, eyes lowly looking at your lips. 

You nod. 

He puts his hand to your cheek, looks into your eyes then back down at your lips. So gentle.

You lean down and meet the warm embrace of his lips. You hear the fireworks going off somewhere in the distance, and you feel the fireworks. Your nerves are sparked, and the way he looks at you makes your stomach drop. 

It’s officially a new year, new you, new start. And Miguel is right there with you at the start. It’s like you’re staring at your future; you want him to stay. 

You grab your glass and sip a generous amount; you offer Miguel. He accepts, keeping his eyes on yours as you hold the glass to his lips. 

You kiss again, and his lips are cold, wet, tasting of the maraschino cherries that have sunk to the bottom of your glass. 

****

You look in the mirror, turning to view the sides of your plush pajamas. They’re ripped, right along your hips, right where he was holding you. Four small tears on both sides. 

HOW…?

You quickly lower them, looking at the skin that’s barely been broken, a tinge of purple spreading from the tears. 

****

“Screams, fangs, claws. He’s a… a vampire,” you exclaim. 

You throw yourself on your bed, watching your best friend’s reaction through the screen.

“I’m just surprised it’s taken you this long to figure that out. I mean there’s Spider-Man, there’s Velvet Vigilante; a vampire isn’t so far-fetched.” 

“Ash, what the hell am I supposed to do about that? I still like him, I still want him. If anything, this just makes him… hotter.”

“Oh my god… this just makes him hotter. To be fair, you haven’t seen any bodies, he hasn’t threatened to suck the blood out of you, is it bad that I want to see how this plays out? No wait, he’s probably murdered people, Y/N. Let’s not romanticize murder.”

“You just agreed it made him hotter, hypocrite. Let’s say he has… hurt people. He’s my friend, I can’t tell anyone, can’t call anyone, it’s Mig. I mean I can’t–”

There’s a knock at your door. 

“There’s a knock.”

“What? Who?... Maybe Dracula heard you talking shit.”

“I’ll text you later.”

You shut your laptop.

You look through the peep hole. It’s a woman. 

“Hiiii, I’m a friend of Mig’s,” she says, sing-songy, her nails tapping rhythmically on your door.

You open the door. 

“Wow. It’s you. I’m Vel. V-E-L. Tell him I stopped by, will you?” She points at Miguel’s door. Her voice is rich, heavy, hot. 

She looks you up and down, smirking.

She reaches a hand out to you, you shake it. Her nails are long, flawlessly painted a grayish pink.

“Hi, Vel. How do you… know him?”

“Wow, you’re his neighbor, huh. I didn’t like the last guy… kicked the bucket, I hope, thank god,” she jokes, crossing her fingers in front of her face. 

“I mean… I got a pretty sick apartment out of it?” you attempt to match her energy. 

She’s gorgeous. You could feel threatened at the fact that she knows Miguel, but you’re too in awe. She’s gorgeous: platinum blonde hair, sharp cat eyeliner, and a velvet choker adorning her neck. 

“What’s your name, babe?” 

“Y/N,” you answer, nodding, as she looks you up and down. 

“That’s it. Knew it, knew it. Mig’s mentioned you,” she grins, resembling the cheshire cat.

“All good things, better than good, really.” 

“Wow, better than good. What can I say?”

“Not much more. Gotta go, babe,” she winks then walks away, the sound of her heels noisily echoing down the hall.

She’s flirty, shutting you up, single-handedly confusing the shit out of you, leaving you in your doorway, dumbfounded. You could see how her and Miguel would be friends. 

[lacedinweb22]

lovely taglist 1: @wingedturtledream @skaochii  @bat-yo-us @lostpirate79 @renn-pumkin-head @princessa-micomicona @waiif-uwu @punpuun @thbidkbutok @acehyacinth @thetoetickler @kaqua @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @inafantasyworld10 @d1lf-loverrr @altheadq @thesilenthill @trash-king18 @imnotyourbcbe @tiffanypooh @ihateuguys @littlemissilovecoconuts @royal-jester @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @tbh2idk @gilliantate23 @envyjmoney @qiaipia @ur-fav-ginger @lacook246 @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick 

If you weren’t tagged but requested to be tagged, I TRIED but I think your tagging setting toggle is disabled! Turn on notifs or message me to try to work it out 💋

[lacedinweb22]

New Year, New Me ❅˚⋆୧

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱✮♱ Vampire Next Door (ch. 11) prev part

nsfw 18+

⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹⋆˙⊹

You’re on top of Miguel, drunk, vision hazy, giggling at everything he says, lowly, drunk, practically purring into your neck. He smiles up at you, his nose brushing against your neck. 

You pull at the roots of his hair, as he groans at the pressure beneath you. You’re the right amount of drunk. You’ll remember this, you hope to god you’ll remember it clearly. You note every movement he makes, how his eyebrows scrunch when you slow down, every groan that escapes his plump, wet lips, remember how he sounds, how the low vibrations leave his mouth and go straight to the space between your thighs. 

You move your hips slowly, his hands guiding your rhythm. He groans into your neck, breathing you in deeply; he’s trying to control himself, “Y/N… god.”

You feel his nails digging into your pajamas, sharp, painful, but the pleasure outweighs the pain. You ignore it. 

You moan into his hair, “Mig… please, keep going,” the pressure is perfect, building up at your core, as the soft plush of your pajama pants pushes against his hard-on. Your hips begin to stutter, a sign of your end, he squeezes your hips tighter, steadying you, as he murmurs, “Like that, chula? Look at you, such a pretty mess for me,” he groans, then shuts his eyes tightly as he winces in your neck, like watching you get off will bring him to ruins. 

The heat spreads across your thighs, relaxing your muscles, your hips slow down. You moan into his mouth, breathing in his air. 

“Fuck, Mig,” you exhale, pausing suddenly, looking down at the rise and fall of his chest. 

You take in what just happened. Your cheeks are already flushed, but now somehow a shade darker. 

“God, I–”

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, looking up at you, brushing the hair out of your face. 

You lean into his touch, sighing. You put your hand on his hand, feeling how big his hand is under yours. 

He leans out, looking over your shoulder at the clock resting on his vinyl-stuffed cabinets.

“11:59” he whispers, looking back at you, his cheeks flushed. 

“Haven’t had enough, hm?”

He shakes his head. 

“One more, to start the new year off right,” he shrugs, arms still resting around your hips, fingers tapping at your lower back, eyes lowly looking at your lips. 

You nod. 

He puts his hand to your cheek, looks into your eyes then back down at your lips. So gentle.

You lean down and meet the warm embrace of his lips. You hear the fireworks going off somewhere in the distance, and you feel the fireworks. Your nerves are sparked, and the way he looks at you makes your stomach drop. 

It’s officially a new year, new you, new start. And Miguel is right there with you at the start. It’s like you’re staring at your future; you want him to stay. 

You grab your glass and sip a generous amount; you offer Miguel. He accepts, keeping his eyes on yours as you hold the glass to his lips. 

You kiss again, and his lips are cold, wet, tasting of the maraschino cherries that have sunk to the bottom of your glass. 

****

You look in the mirror, turning to view the sides of your plush pajamas. They’re ripped, right along your hips, right where he was holding you. Four small tears on both sides. 

HOW…?

You quickly lower them, looking at the skin that’s barely been broken, a tinge of purple spreading from the tears. 

****

“Screams, fangs, claws. He’s a… a vampire,” you exclaim. 

You throw yourself on your bed, watching your best friend’s reaction through the screen.

“I’m just surprised it’s taken you this long to figure that out. I mean there’s Spider-Man, there’s Velvet Vigilante; a vampire isn’t so far-fetched.” 

“Ash, what the hell am I supposed to do about that? I still like him, I still want him. If anything, this just makes him… hotter.”

“Oh my god… this just makes him hotter. To be fair, you haven’t seen any bodies, he hasn’t threatened to suck the blood out of you, is it bad that I want to see how this plays out? No wait, he’s probably murdered people, Y/N. Let’s not romanticize murder.”

“You just agreed it made him hotter, hypocrite. Let’s say he has… hurt people. He’s my friend, I can’t tell anyone, can’t call anyone, it’s Mig. I mean I can’t–”

There’s a knock at your door. 

“There’s a knock.”

“What? Who?... Maybe Dracula heard you talking shit.”

“I’ll text you later.”

You shut your laptop.

You look through the peep hole. It’s a woman. 

“Hiiii, I’m a friend of Mig’s,” she says, sing-songy, her nails tapping rhythmically on your door.

You open the door. 

“Wow. It’s you. I’m Vel. V-E-L. Tell him I stopped by, will you?” She points at Miguel’s door. Her voice is rich, heavy, hot. 

She looks you up and down, smirking.

She reaches a hand out to you, you shake it. Her nails are long, flawlessly painted a grayish pink.

“Hi, Vel. How do you… know him?”

“Wow, you’re his neighbor, huh. I didn’t like the last guy… kicked the bucket, I hope, thank god,” she jokes, crossing her fingers in front of her face. 

“I mean… I got a pretty sick apartment out of it?” you attempt to match her energy. 

She’s gorgeous. You could feel threatened at the fact that she knows Miguel, but you’re too in awe. She’s gorgeous: platinum blonde hair, sharp cat eyeliner, and a velvet choker adorning her neck. 

“What’s your name, babe?” 

“Y/N,” you answer, nodding, as she looks you up and down. 

“That’s it. Knew it, knew it. Mig’s mentioned you,” she grins, resembling the cheshire cat.

“All good things, better than good, really.” 

“Wow, better than good. What can I say?”

“Not much more. Gotta go, babe,” she winks then walks away, the sound of her heels noisily echoing down the hall.

She’s flirty, shutting you up, single-handedly confusing the shit out of you, leaving you in your doorway, dumbfounded. You could see how her and Miguel would be friends. 

[lacedinweb22]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy °❆˚₊⋆

Miguel O'Hara x reader Vampire Next Door ♱✮♱ Ch. 10 prev part here (New Year's/Christmas chapter inspired by lyrics from "Last Christmas" by Wham!)

nsfw 18+ (near end)

*̣̥☆·͙̥‧‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❅‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

Christmas creeped up on you this year. Between the weeks at your internship and avoiding Miguel, things have been all over the place, just when you thought things were starting to line up. 

So you were alone on Christmas and you’re alone on New Years Eve, both for the first time. You’ve got your headphones on, blasting, nostalgic Christmas music. 

Standing in the kitchen, you roll out cookie dough, finding yourself thinking about Miguel. Everything. From his annotations on your essays, to the blood on his bathroom floor. 

Once bitten, twice shy. 

Why can’t he confide in you? But blood isn't a simple secret, it’s bigger than you, you know that. 

Yesterday, you saw him coming up the stairs, one foot in the hallway, your own in your doorway. You look back, catch a glimpse of him down the hall; his hair is wet and messy from the snow, his cheeks pink from the cold. 

You hurry into your place before he sees you. He’s only left with the slam of your door. 

I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye. 

“I thought you liked me, now you won’t even talk to me.” 

Last week, he cornered you in the hallway. Your keys were deep in your bag.

“I’m busy, Mig. Been so busy.” Your cheeks feel hot, consequence of your lying. 

Your back is now against your door. He’s so close to you, looking down at you, head tilted. He looks beautiful… and threatening. But you’re stubborn and you don’t trust anyone anymore, especially not your blood-thirsty neighbor. 

“I mean I thought we were getting somewhere, Y/N.”

You did too.

“I did too. I just- I gotta go, Miguel. I’ll… talk to you later.” 

****

You sit on your fire escape, legs hanging down, headphones on your neck, still playing music. You watch the snow fall down, snowflakes swaying before gracefully adorning your coat. You lift your arm to look at the tiny, beautifully delicate shapes melting on you. 

You listen to the cars, the rumbling sky, the party music above you, the muffled voices. You’re okay being alone– 

“Hey,” 

“Jesus! What the fuck! Who— God, you scared me, asshole!” you throw a handful of snow that’s collected on your thighs at him. It pathetically hits his knees. 

It’s him, standing on his side of the fire escape in front of his window. He looks down at you, sympathetically. 

“What do you want? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

He straightens his face out. He looks straight forward, eyebrows furrowed, hands in his pockets. He looks stiff, cold like he was the first day.

“Figured you’d be home for Christmas.” 

“I am home.” You turn away, looking down at the alley below. 

“Home, home.”

“My mom was out of town. No point making the trip.” 

“Hm,” he drops down, legs hanging off the metal floor. He’s feet away, but it’s intimate; you’re both looking down at the alley, at the the busy street, city lights glowing on your faces, snow falling on the two of you. 

You turn to look at him. He’s not soft like he was a few weeks back, when you somehow unwrapped his outer layer. His mind is busy, somewhere else. You stop being angry with him for a second, you empathize. Maybe he has a job to do, and maybe you’re just not meant to know that part of him. Just let yourself enjoy what parts of himself he does want to share with you. 

“I got you something, Y/N,” he mutters, still looking straight forward. “Was gonna save it for when you weren’t so mad at me, but… Christmas was days ago.”

He pulls a box out of his right pocket. He reaches out, places it gently in your hand. It’s small, wrapped beautifully in blueprint scraps. The small tag reads, “For Y/N.” His handwriting is just like the annotations on your papers years ago. You smile down at it. 

“Why would you do this? I am still mad at you. And I didn’t get you anything.”

“I know. Jesus, just open it.”

It’s ear plugs. You laugh, then roll your eyes. 

You nudge him with your elbow. 

“Asshole. Is this you asking me to turn a blind eye?”

“Blind ear, actually.”

You glance up, unamused, which Miguel finds amusing. 

“But yes, exactly that.”

He nudges you, “Look under it.”

You lift the tab beneath the ear plugs. 

It’s a necklace. The charm is your initial in Old English font. 

“Let me help,” he suggests. You nod, still stunned from the gesture. He lifts his weight on his biceps, and sits closer to you. Music is still bleeding from the headphones around your neck. You place them beside you.

Tell me, baby, do you recognize me?

You look up at him. The crimson in his eyes highlighted by the city lights. You never know with him, you’re always searching for stable footing, for an understanding of why he acts the way he does, but despite all that, you feel like you know him. 

Well, it’s been a year, it doesn’t surprise me. 

Does he know you? The old you he shared a class with isn’t the person you are now.

And after all these years, will this new version of yourself be willing to let him know you, even if it means you’ll end up betrayed and hurt again?

Now I know what a fool I’ve been

You want to stay mad,

but he’s looking down at you like that, and you’re okay with getting hurt if it’s by him. He looks down at the box in your hands, and gently pulls the necklace out. 

He holds eye contact with you, as he puts his hands around your neck and clasps it under your hair, his eyes still on yours. 

You look down at the initial resting on your skin. 

You look back up.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Miguel.”

He keeps one hand at your neck, his thumb softly stroking your jaw. 

But if you kiss me now, I know you’ll fool me again

He kisses you, his warm lips clinging to yours, warmth you appreciate as the snow shrouds you two. 

****

You’re sat on his couch. It’s 11 pm, one hour closer to the the new year.

He opens his window, looks outside at the snow, then turns back at you over his shoulder. A smile tugs at his lips.

You look down at the drink he’s made you. It’s sweet, like you asked. 

He hovers on the window frame, biceps flexed as his weight rests on them.

He turns around finally, facing you, his back against the window.

“Aren’t you gonna join me?”

He answers by slowly walking to the spot beside you. He sinks into it. 

He slides his fingers in between yours. Slowly, his warm, muscular hand eases into yours. It feels good. 

“You’re so confusing,” you sigh, throwing your head back, the alcohol taking over. “Sometimes, I swear I know you, then you do these, I don’t know, things and you completely throw me off and I don’t actually know who you are, or what you want, and there was a point where I thought I did.”

“Things,” he whispers to himself.

“The blood, Mig, my nightmares, your eyes– you’re different. I just want some answers–”

“And I’m sorry… I can’t…  give you all of the answers you’re looking for.”

“Why can’t you trust me?”

“Why can’t you just trust that I’m doing the right thing? That I’m doing what I have to, and trying to protect you all at the same time.”

You exhale. 

He throws his head back against the couch. He turns lazily to face you. 

You look back down at his hand in yours. 

“I’m trying to give you what I can. Could that be enough?” 

He says it lowly, squeezing your hand. Your fingers move against his, you turn your hands over so you’re on top, fingertips feeling his calloused palms. 

You feel his eyes on you, watching you feel his skin, attentively. 

He sighs. You turn, look up at him. His cheeks are pink. “The alcohol getting to you?” You whisper, leaning closer up to his lips. 

He nods, pulling his hand from out of your grasp and to the hair in your face. He brushes it back gently. 

Your face is flushed. You slowly lift your thigh across his lap, now stradling him. 

He rests his hands on your hips, heavy breathing against your neck as his hands explore the expanse between your thighs and hips. 

You find yourself moving against him slowly, craving pressure. 

He buries his face into your neck, pushing and pulling your hips gently against his. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” you break from his lips, hips unfaltering. 

“Doing what?” he speaks onto your lips, breathless, drunk from lust. 

“Avoiding each other when we’re sober, and making out when we’re drunk.” 

His lips are cold from the drink, you can taste the rum on him. You suck his bottom lip playfully, you feel him smile. 

“Last time, swear,” he smirks, before kissing you greedily.

✧❅✦

To be continued… ;)

This is my last post of 2023!!! WOwwww 2023 was so beautiful and enlightening, and I’ve learned so much about myself and my love for writing and it’s all been heavily inspired by Miguel and all of you beautiful people! You have no idea how grateful I am for all of your support and the growth I’ve been able to have on this platform omgggg <3 Thank you for being here udhffskfdkjsodsif I hope you all have a wonderful New Years full of love and good food. Take care of yourselves 

(´⌣`ʃƪ) ♥❅*°:⋆ₓₒ

[lacedinweb22]

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