lacedinweb22

[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]

I don't wanna let you go ❦︎

inspired by Enhypen’s “Bills” - Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader (angsty chapter from my Wattpad series Vampire Next Door)

‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱

Miguel’s mother wasn’t gentle. His personality attests to that.

She was abusive, resentful, lacked any empathy, just overall shitty. Not much of a mother at all.

Miguel didn’t thrive at home, but he did thrive at school.

Though he was sarcastic, talked back to any authority (to be fair, he usually had a point), and had a hell of a mouth on him, his teachers gave him the validation his mother didn’t—academic validation.

He was a genius, really, and school was his distraction from the hell hole he lived in.

High school was far too slow-paced for him. And university, he found slightly challenging, but when he looked around to see everybody else was really struggling, having breakdowns, begging for his tutoring, he realized he found his courses quite easy. He realized he was different…

socially and academically.

He’s only ever had three friends, Vel being one of them.

He surprisingly found a friend in the hard-shelled vigilante, an acquaintance, someone he could banter with, argue, fight. They were there for each other.

Is it impossible to turn back time? No time.

So when he realized in addition to you possibly being hung up on some girl you used to live with, his own acquaintance had made a move on you, he came in swinging.

He reflects, remembers:

“I know you already hate me… already don’t trust me, but I need to tell you something else,” you muttered.

“Dios, what?”

“Vel… has been flirting with me. When you left, after she hurt herself, she… she kind of admitted her feelings to me.”

“Vel? Vel. Vel as in Velvet, Vel as in—”

“Yes, Mig. The only Vel we both know.”

“Vel?”

“Oh god.”

“After I cleaned up her messes, after I patched up her knee? After I—”

“I know.”

“And you did what? You said what?”

“I was kind of in shock, and I know— I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming… I just, I said I wanted you, and that’s when she brought her up. She said you were in the way like my roommate’s boyfriend was. Struck a nerve, struck several, so I left.”

One day, the invoice that you stuck on me, the pain that became my share,

He nods.

“Funny. Thought you were still hung up on her, thought you were going to abandon me and move back with her, meanwhile, the only real threat was my own fucking friend. Adds up.”

I’m sure I paid for it.

He shakes his head, forehead resting on his own big hands. He doesn’t look up at you.

****

He realizes he has mommy issues, abandonment issues, every issue in the book really.

Getting closer to you scared him. He worried he was a burden, that you’d have to deal with all of the weight that came with him. But you were reassuring, seemed like you could handle it, like you wanted to handle it.

You made him trust again, made him a better person.

He sits on the fire escape, slouched, head hung in thought.

It takes everything in him not to go to your bedroom window, just right there, he wouldn’t argue, he’d just embrace you. It’ll fix everything he thinks.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he sits, continues to think.

He never really had space for insecurity, or reason for it really, being at the top of the class with no threats ever, made him secure in himself, gave him a strong sense of confidence.

Besides… maybe the insecurity stemming from the rejection and neglect from his mother—but he refused to count that. He accepted their fucked relationship at a young age, and decided he’d become smart, build his way out of there. Fuck her. He didn’t need her. It was a lost cause,

but you, he could never give up on you. He does need you.

New emotions, love, being loved by you, this, however, brought forth a new sense of insecurity.

For once, he didn’t have control over everything, over himself.

He seeks your love, attention, wants to make you feel loved, understood, and the idea that you could find someone else to do that, made him insecure, made his heart race, body temperature hot.

Maybe his mom did have something to do with this, Vel always said so anyway. Maybe for once she was right. He feared you’d abandon him—emotionally, physically—the way the one person in the world who was meant to love him abandoned him.

He wonders how he—

Your window slides open. He turns back to see you. You look exhausted—he hates to think he’s to blame—tired, and still beautiful.

“Y/n.”

“Miguel.”

The sad way you say his name makes his stomach drop. You sit on your window sill, fiddling with your jacket.

“I’ve been thinking.”

I thought about it, it’s not paid.

He looks up at you, desperate to know what you think.

“Maybe… maybe we need a break, maybe we just need time apart,” you say, weakly.

He exhales, like he’s been punched in the stomach.

You continue, “Maybe I’m still not healed from her, and I know—I see that it hurts you.”

You sniffle, tears rolling down. You rest your head against the brick wall.

“I don’t want to let you go,” you sob, gently.

He wants to hug you, but it’ll only make this harder.

The price of parting keeps getting more and more expensive. I just wanna let it go.

Maybe he deserves to be abandoned. Maybe you’ll both hurt less this way.

Why don’t you just let me go?

He wonders if this is permanent, if it’s really the end, but it only makes him feel dizzy. He stands up, wipes the tears he didn’t realize were falling, and gives you one last look,

“If that’s what you want.”

The right price I only learned through tears. 

｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱

ughhh angst

anyways yeah shocker I'm an Engene ❀*ੈ  go stream Romance: Untold

time-skip chapter coming soon ₊ʚïɞ 

[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 the 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 for more.

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 slur 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]

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♱ Vampire Next Door ♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader

Ch. 13: A… vampire ♱❦︎₊° prev part

“Vel, keep him down!” 

“I am!” Velvet’s claws are digging into yet another agent hunting down Miguel. She’s on her knees, constraining the huge man, as Miguel punches and slams him down, questioning and cursing at him.

“He’s tracking you!” Vel nods at his neck. Miguel ignores this, too caught up in the violence.

“Last chance. Who sent you?!” he growls, slamming the agent down again. 

“They’re onto you, Miguel. You can’t run forever,” he grins, blood covering his face. 

“They’re tracking you, Miguel. Cut it out, or I’ll tear it out!” her claws are on his neck, nails beginning to pierce his skin. 

The crimson in his eyes glows brighter; he knows what he has to do.

His fangs rip into his neck; he spits the tracker out onto his palm. A puddle of blood begins to surround him.

****

Once again, the noise from the other side of that wall kept you up: Slamming, yelping, and shouted conversation.

You contemplated knocking, you paced in the hall between your doors, and you thought about everything you’d witnessed up until now. But the stubborn voice in your head demanded you go to your fire escape, demanded you look through his window, and creep on your neighbor, something you were sure he’d done before.

To your luck, it was raining, but from what you could see through the glass, two figures hovered over one, slamming and fighting with the one being pinned on the floor.

Is it him? Could he be the one being beat into the ground? 

You slowly, carefully slid the window up, the beating rain covering up the noise you made as you slipped inside. 

You know you’re in the wrong, you know you might end up pinned on the ground beside him, but it’s instinctual. Your body is on autopilot, out of your control, and now,

you’re here 

looking onto the bloody scene. Vel looks up at you, but she’s quickly absorbed into the background. All you see is Miguel, blood smeared across his face after he just ripped that man’s neck out. 

You try to catch your breath, your thoughts race as you try to make sense of how it all led to this. You knew he was different, but this was the cold, hard truth cruelly slapped into your face.

 He looks up, blood dripping from his lips. 

The bloodthirsty creature you just watched tear up a man, becomes human, his face softens, looking across the room at you. 

You stumble back, losing balance, vision becoming blurry.

Then Velvet comes back into view, now right in front of you. 

“Sorry, pretty girl,”

And the blur becomes black.

****

You hear them before you see them. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“We had a mission and she interrupted it! I already told you! I needed her to sleep for a bit so we could finish up. Come on Spidey, look, wow, how convenient: we’ve cleaned up a bit, you had some time to gather your thoughts, and now, perfect, we can properly inform her.”

“What about her? Was she given that same time to gather her thoughts? That same consideration before you knocked the shit out of her? And there’s no ‘we,’ you already fucked this up. Pinche idiota.”

“Stop calling me that!”

You open your eyes. Miguel and Vel look down at you. You move your fingertips against the material you’re lying on, trying to gather some sense of awareness: Miguel’s couch. 

Finally, you manage to get a few words out. 

“Miguel, you– oh god, my head.”

You feel an ache in your arm. You look down at it, your elbow is wrapped up.

“I know, Y/N. I gave you some injections to help with your head. Just a few precautionary measures in case it is a concussion. Velvet hit you hard. I’m sorry, and she’s sorry, aren’t you, Velvet?” he turns to her, anger in his eyes. 

“Super.”

“It pounds,” you mutter, trying to sit up.

“Still got it. Thanks for the feedback,” she grins, proudly, insensitively. 

You glare up at her. 

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” she whines in defense, then looks at you sympathetically, “I am sorry, babe,” she whispers, stroking your hair. 

“‘Sorry, babe’ que nada. You’re such an asshole,” he swats her hand away.

He slowly drops to his knees, and puts his hand to your back, effortlessly helping you sit up. He grabs the glass of water on the side table. 

“Drink some, please,” he mutters, nodding, holding the glass to your lips, as you struggle to hold it yourself. 

The memories start to come back, but they’re all fuzzy.

“It feels like a dream. Please tell me that was a dream. Please–” 

He brushes your hair out of your face.

“I wish it was a dream. I’m sorry, Y/N… Vel, I need you to leave for a second, dios, make that forever,” he mutters before turning back to you.

Vel rolls her eyes then walks out. 

“If that was real…” you exhale, 

“I guess I really know now… know what you are.”

He pauses, then sits up straight, “What?”

“I’ve been thinking… about school, back then. You’ve changed so much since then. And if I’m remembering it all correctly: your eyes, your fangs, the blood. I mean come on, Miguel, I know. You’re a… vampire,”

“Wait… what?” 

He looks confused, offended even.

“A vamp– you know what, I can see how you would think that.” 

Confusion is wiped off his face, replaced with amusement. You stare at him, waiting for more.

“So you can see how– are you denying it or…?”

He runs a hand through his waves. 

“I can see how you would think that. I know how it looks,” he laughs, looking down, then he sees you’re serious, so he gets serious.

“I had an accident at Alchemax, uhh last year. Someone sabotaged my work, and it mutated my genes. I’m just… mutated,” he nods as if it were as simple as that.

“And all of that?” you ask, pointing to the mopped up floor, wanting more. He ignores you, and continues,

“This is beyond confidential. This is life or death. I’m not even supposed to be– they’ve been after me before. They either want to kill me, or they want me as their soldier, I mean this isn’t… I shouldn’t even–”

“So you don’t… drink blood?”

He scowls at you, then stands up, towering over you, “No, I don’t drink blood. I mean sure, sometimes I have frenzies that make me think I need blood, I mean the spider part of me, but– I just, I take care of it, I manage.”

“I’m still considering you a vampire–”

“No more questions; you’d just become more of a liability. I don’t want them to have the option of torturing it out of you. That’s it. I’ve said my piece.”

“Torture?” 

He nods. You sit in shock, trying to process all of it. 

“Spider?”

“That’s enough for today. You shouldn’t have been there, I never wanted you to see me like that, I already knew being this close, living this close to you would be a risk… But seriously, you’ll stumble upon it when it’s time, trust me–”

“It? Mig, if there’s more, I’m here now, just–”

“That’s enough for today,” he asserts, shutting you up effectively. 

You lay back down, massaging circles into your temples.

“God, excuse me for asking. I’m sure if you had claw marks slashed across you, and heard someone screaming bloody murder night after night across the hall, you would be this curious too, I mean–”

“Claw marks? Where?”

“No, I was just saying–”

He’s still towering over you, intimidating you, questioning you now.

“Where.” he demands.

“My hips, okay. Jesus, my hips.” You nervously pat your side. 

He drops back to his knees. Your stomach does flips. 

He looks down at your sweatpants, then back up at you, fingertips in your waistband.

“Can I?”

“Yeah, sure,” you exhale nonchalantly, trying to catch your breath, and act unfazed by the way his touch makes you feel. 

He slides your sweatpants down slowly to your mid-thigh, your underwear is exposed, but he pays no attention to it; he looks at the side of you, the healing claw marks, worry in his eyes.

He lightly drags his fingertips across them, then looks up at you. It’s gentle, and caring, and soft, and it goes against everything you saw a few hours ago. 

You exhale, and run your fingers through his hair. This is going to be complicated, but you know you care about him, and you feel he cares about you, and you can’t walk away from him, not when he just found his way back into your life. 

His eyebrows are still furrowed, looking down at all of the damage, thinking of all the damage.

“I was just trying to check on you. I thought you were the one being pinned down. I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay. Now I’m just… traumatized,” you exhale.

“Me? Being pinned down? That’s funny. I’d never be in that position,” he shrugs, you smile, then slowly bring your sweatpants back up. 

He hangs his head low, exhales, then nods, and looks up at you. “But I’m sorry. I get it. I would’ve done the same for you, in a heartbeat.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. He looks down at your hips, then back up at you, and stands up again. 

“It’s not. I know that was a lot. I’ll make it up to you, this whole night, all of it, I’ll make it all up to you. But for now, rest, process. I can stay here with you,” he whispers, sitting beside you. 

You both sit, quietly, processing, absentmindedly watching the cooking show he’s put on.

****

Going to post Vampire Next Door exclusively on w*ttpad now because I feel discouraged everytime I post VND chapters on here (it’s just a personal mental thing) and I think tumblr is just better for shorter, sweet and simple works. Thank you for the love *ੈ✩ 

[lacedinweb22]

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♱ Vampire Next Door ♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader

Ch. 13: A… vampire ♱❦︎₊° prev part

“Vel, keep him down!” 

“I am!” Velvet’s claws are digging into yet another agent hunting down Miguel. She’s on her knees, constraining the huge man, as Miguel punches and slams him down, questioning and cursing at him.

“He’s tracking you!” Vel nods at his neck. Miguel ignores this, too caught up in the violence.

“Last chance. Who sent you?!” he growls, slamming the agent down again. 

“They’re onto you, Miguel. You can’t run forever,” he grins, blood covering his face. 

“They’re tracking you, Miguel. Cut it out, or I’ll tear it out!” her claws are on his neck, nails beginning to pierce his skin. 

The crimson in his eyes glows brighter; he knows what he has to do.

His fangs rip into his neck; he spits the tracker out onto his palm. A puddle of blood begins to surround him.

****

Once again, the noise from the other side of that wall kept you up: Slamming, yelping, and shouted conversation.

You contemplated knocking, you paced in the hall between your doors, and you thought about everything you’d witnessed up until now. But the stubborn voice in your head demanded you go to your fire escape, demanded you look through his window, and creep on your neighbor, something you were sure he’d done before.

To your luck, it was raining, but from what you could see through the glass, two figures hovered over one, slamming and fighting with the one being pinned on the floor.

Is it him? Could he be the one being beat into the ground? 

You slowly, carefully slid the window up, the beating rain covering up the noise you made as you slipped inside. 

You know you’re in the wrong, you know you might end up pinned on the ground beside him, but it’s instinctual. Your body is on autopilot, out of your control, and now,

you’re here 

looking onto the bloody scene. Vel looks up at you, but she’s quickly absorbed into the background. All you see is Miguel, blood smeared across his face after he just ripped that man’s neck out. 

You try to catch your breath, your thoughts race as you try to make sense of how it all led to this. You knew he was different, but this was the cold, hard truth cruelly slapped into your face.

 He looks up, blood dripping from his lips. 

The bloodthirsty creature you just watched tear up a man, becomes human, his face softens, looking across the room at you. 

You stumble back, losing balance, vision becoming blurry.

Then Velvet comes back into view, now right in front of you. 

“Sorry, pretty girl,”

And the blur becomes black.

****

You hear them before you see them. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“We had a mission and she interrupted it! I already told you! I needed her to sleep for a bit so we could finish up. Come on Spidey, look, wow, how convenient: we’ve cleaned up a bit, you had some time to gather your thoughts, and now, perfect, we can properly inform her.”

“What about her? Was she given that same time to gather her thoughts? That same consideration before you knocked the shit out of her? And there’s no ‘we,’ you already fucked this up. Pinche idiota.”

“Stop calling me that!”

You open your eyes. Miguel and Vel look down at you. You move your fingertips against the material you’re lying on, trying to gather some sense of awareness: Miguel’s couch. 

Finally, you manage to get a few words out. 

“Miguel, you– oh god, my head.”

You feel an ache in your arm. You look down at it, your elbow is wrapped up.

“I know, Y/N. I gave you some injections to help with your head. Just a few precautionary measures in case it is a concussion. Velvet hit you hard. I’m sorry, and she’s sorry, aren’t you, Velvet?” he turns to her, anger in his eyes. 

“Super.”

“It pounds,” you mutter, trying to sit up.

“Still got it. Thanks for the feedback,” she grins, proudly, insensitively. 

You glare up at her. 

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” she whines in defense, then looks at you sympathetically, “I am sorry, babe,” she whispers, stroking your hair. 

“‘Sorry, babe’ que nada. You’re such an asshole,” he swats her hand away.

He slowly drops to his knees, and puts his hand to your back, effortlessly helping you sit up. He grabs the glass of water on the side table. 

“Drink some, please,” he mutters, nodding, holding the glass to your lips, as you struggle to hold it yourself. 

The memories start to come back, but they’re all fuzzy.

“It feels like a dream. Please tell me that was a dream. Please–” 

He brushes your hair out of your face.

“I wish it was a dream. I’m sorry, Y/N… Vel, I need you to leave for a second, dios, make that forever,” he mutters before turning back to you.

Vel rolls her eyes then walks out. 

“If that was real…” you exhale, 

“I guess I really know now… know what you are.”

He pauses, then sits up straight, “What?”

“I’ve been thinking… about school, back then. You’ve changed so much since then. And if I’m remembering it all correctly: your eyes, your fangs, the blood. I mean come on, Miguel, I know. You’re a… vampire,”

“Wait… what?” 

He looks confused, offended even.

“A vamp– you know what, I can see how you would think that.” 

Confusion is wiped off his face, replaced with amusement. You stare at him, waiting for more.

“So you can see how– are you denying it or…?”

He runs a hand through his waves. 

“I can see how you would think that. I know how it looks,” he laughs, looking down, then he sees you’re serious, so he gets serious.

“I had an accident at Alchemax, uhh last year. Someone sabotaged my work, and it mutated my genes. I’m just… mutated,” he nods as if it were as simple as that.

“And all of that?” you ask, pointing to the mopped up floor, wanting more. He ignores you, and continues,

“This is beyond confidential. This is life or death. I’m not even supposed to be– they’ve been after me before. They either want to kill me, or they want me as their soldier, I mean this isn’t… I shouldn’t even–”

“So you don’t… drink blood?”

He scowls at you, then stands up, towering over you, “No, I don’t drink blood. I mean sure, sometimes I have frenzies that make me think I need blood, I mean the spider part of me, but– I just, I take care of it, I manage.”

“I’m still considering you a vampire–”

“No more questions; you’d just become more of a liability. I don’t want them to have the option of torturing it out of you. That’s it. I’ve said my piece.”

“Torture?” 

He nods. You sit in shock, trying to process all of it. 

“Spider?”

“That’s enough for today. You shouldn’t have been there, I never wanted you to see me like that, I already knew being this close, living this close to you would be a risk… But seriously, you’ll stumble upon it when it’s time, trust me–”

“It? Mig, if there’s more, I’m here now, just–”

“That’s enough for today,” he asserts, shutting you up effectively. 

You lay back down, massaging circles into your temples.

“God, excuse me for asking. I’m sure if you had claw marks slashed across you, and heard someone screaming bloody murder night after night across the hall, you would be this curious too, I mean–”

“Claw marks? Where?”

“No, I was just saying–”

He’s still towering over you, intimidating you, questioning you now.

“Where.” he demands.

“My hips, okay. Jesus, my hips.” You nervously pat your side. 

He drops back to his knees. Your stomach does flips. 

He looks down at your sweatpants, then back up at you, fingertips in your waistband.

“Can I?”

“Yeah, sure,” you exhale nonchalantly, trying to catch your breath, and act unfazed by the way his touch makes you feel. 

He slides your sweatpants down slowly to your mid-thigh, your underwear is exposed, but he pays no attention to it; he looks at the side of you, the healing claw marks, worry in his eyes.

He lightly drags his fingertips across them, then looks up at you. It’s gentle, and caring, and soft, and it goes against everything you saw a few hours ago. 

You exhale, and run your fingers through his hair. This is going to be complicated, but you know you care about him, and you feel he cares about you, and you can’t walk away from him, not when he just found his way back into your life. 

His eyebrows are still furrowed, looking down at all of the damage, thinking of all the damage.

“I was just trying to check on you. I thought you were the one being pinned down. I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay. Now I’m just… traumatized,” you exhale.

“Me? Being pinned down? That’s funny. I’d never be in that position,” he shrugs, you smile, then slowly bring your sweatpants back up. 

He hangs his head low, exhales, then nods, and looks up at you. “But I’m sorry. I get it. I would’ve done the same for you, in a heartbeat.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. He looks down at your hips, then back up at you, and stands up again. 

“It’s not. I know that was a lot. I’ll make it up to you, this whole night, all of it, I’ll make it all up to you. But for now, rest, process. I can stay here with you,” he whispers, sitting beside you. 

You both sit, quietly, processing, absentmindedly watching the cooking show he’s put on.

****

Going to post Vampire Next Door exclusively on w*ttpad now because I feel discouraged everytime I post VND chapters on here (it’s just a personal mental thing) and I think tumblr is just better for shorter, sweet and simple works. Thank you for the love *ੈ✩ 

[lacedinweb22]

♱ Vampire Next Door ♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader

Ch. 13: A… vampire ♱❦︎₊° prev part

“Vel, keep him down!” 

“I am!” Velvet’s claws are digging into yet another agent hunting down Miguel. She’s on her knees, constraining the huge man, as Miguel punches and slams him down, questioning and cursing at him.

“He’s tracking you!” Vel nods at his neck. Miguel ignores this, too caught up in the violence.

“Last chance. Who sent you?!” he growls, slamming the agent down again. 

“They’re onto you, Miguel. You can’t run forever,” he grins, blood covering his face. 

“They’re tracking you, Miguel. Cut it out, or I’ll tear it out!” her claws are on his neck, nails beginning to pierce his skin. 

The crimson in his eyes glows brighter; he knows what he has to do.

His fangs rip into his neck; he spits the tracker out onto his palm. A puddle of blood begins to surround him.

****

Once again, the noise from the other side of that wall kept you up: Slamming, yelping, and shouted conversation.

You contemplated knocking, you paced in the hall between your doors, and you thought about everything you’d witnessed up until now. But the stubborn voice in your head demanded you go to your fire escape, demanded you look through his window, and creep on your neighbor, something you were sure he’d done before.

To your luck, it was raining, but from what you could see through the glass, two figures hovered over one, slamming and fighting with the one being pinned on the floor.

Is it him? Could he be the one being beat into the ground? 

You slowly, carefully slid the window up, the beating rain covering up the noise you made as you slipped inside. 

You know you’re in the wrong, you know you might end up pinned on the ground beside him, but it’s instinctual. Your body is on autopilot, out of your control, and now,

you’re here 

looking onto the bloody scene. Vel looks up at you, but she’s quickly absorbed into the background. All you see is Miguel, blood smeared across his face after he just ripped that man’s neck out. 

You try to catch your breath, your thoughts race as you try to make sense of how it all led to this. You knew he was different, but this was the cold, hard truth cruelly slapped into your face.

 He looks up, blood dripping from his lips. 

The bloodthirsty creature you just watched tear up a man, becomes human, his face softens, looking across the room at you. 

You stumble back, losing balance, vision becoming blurry.

Then Velvet comes back into view, now right in front of you. 

“Sorry, pretty girl,”

And the blur becomes black.

****

You hear them before you see them. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“We had a mission and she interrupted it! I already told you! I needed her to sleep for a bit so we could finish up. Come on Spidey, look, wow, how convenient: we’ve cleaned up a bit, you had some time to gather your thoughts, and now, perfect, we can properly inform her.”

“What about her? Was she given that same time to gather her thoughts? That same consideration before you knocked the shit out of her? And there’s no ‘we,’ you already fucked this up. Pinche idiota.”

“Stop calling me that!”

You open your eyes. Miguel and Vel look down at you. You move your fingertips against the material you’re lying on, trying to gather some sense of awareness: Miguel’s couch. 

Finally, you manage to get a few words out. 

“Miguel, you– oh god, my head.”

You feel an ache in your arm. You look down at it, your elbow is wrapped up.

“I know, Y/N. I gave you some injections to help with your head. Just a few precautionary measures in case it is a concussion. Velvet hit you hard. I’m sorry, and she’s sorry, aren’t you, Velvet?” he turns to her, anger in his eyes. 

“Super.”

“It pounds,” you mutter, trying to sit up.

“Still got it. Thanks for the feedback,” she grins, proudly, insensitively. 

You glare up at her. 

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” she whines in defense, then looks at you sympathetically, “I am sorry, babe,” she whispers, stroking your hair. 

“‘Sorry, babe’ que nada. You’re such an asshole,” he swats her hand away.

He slowly drops to his knees, and puts his hand to your back, effortlessly helping you sit up. He grabs the glass of water on the side table. 

“Drink some, please,” he mutters, nodding, holding the glass to your lips, as you struggle to hold it yourself. 

The memories start to come back, but they’re all fuzzy.

“It feels like a dream. Please tell me that was a dream. Please–” 

He brushes your hair out of your face.

“I wish it was a dream. I’m sorry, Y/N… Vel, I need you to leave for a second, dios, make that forever,” he mutters before turning back to you.

Vel rolls her eyes then walks out. 

“If that was real…” you exhale, 

“I guess I really know now… know what you are.”

He pauses, then sits up straight, “What?”

“I’ve been thinking… about school, back then. You’ve changed so much since then. And if I’m remembering it all correctly: your eyes, your fangs, the blood. I mean come on, Miguel, I know. You’re a… vampire,”

“Wait… what?” 

He looks confused, offended even.

“A vamp– you know what, I can see how you would think that.” 

Confusion is wiped off his face, replaced with amusement. You stare at him, waiting for more.

“So you can see how– are you denying it or…?”

He runs a hand through his waves. 

“I can see how you would think that. I know how it looks,” he laughs, looking down, then he sees you’re serious, so he gets serious.

“I had an accident at Alchemax, uhh last year. Someone sabotaged my work, and it mutated my genes. I’m just… mutated,” he nods as if it were as simple as that.

“And all of that?” you ask, pointing to the mopped up floor, wanting more. He ignores you, and continues,

“This is beyond confidential. This is life or death. I’m not even supposed to be– they’ve been after me before. They either want to kill me, or they want me as their soldier, I mean this isn’t… I shouldn’t even–”

“So you don’t… drink blood?”

He scowls at you, then stands up, towering over you, “No, I don’t drink blood. I mean sure, sometimes I have frenzies that make me think I need blood, I mean the spider part of me, but– I just, I take care of it, I manage.”

“I’m still considering you a vampire–”

“No more questions; you’d just become more of a liability. I don’t want them to have the option of torturing it out of you. That’s it. I’ve said my piece.”

“Torture?” 

He nods. You sit in shock, trying to process all of it. 

“Spider?”

“That’s enough for today. You shouldn’t have been there, I never wanted you to see me like that, I already knew being this close, living this close to you would be a risk… But seriously, you’ll stumble upon it when it’s time, trust me–”

“It? Mig, if there’s more, I’m here now, just–”

“That’s enough for today,” he asserts, shutting you up effectively. 

You lay back down, massaging circles into your temples.

“God, excuse me for asking. I’m sure if you had claw marks slashed across you, and heard someone screaming bloody murder night after night across the hall, you would be this curious too, I mean–”

“Claw marks? Where?”

“No, I was just saying–”

He’s still towering over you, intimidating you, questioning you now.

“Where.” he demands.

“My hips, okay. Jesus, my hips.” You nervously pat your side. 

He drops back to his knees. Your stomach does flips. 

He looks down at your sweatpants, then back up at you, fingertips in your waistband.

“Can I?”

“Yeah, sure,” you exhale nonchalantly, trying to catch your breath, and act unfazed by the way his touch makes you feel. 

He slides your sweatpants down slowly to your mid-thigh, your underwear is exposed, but he pays no attention to it; he looks at the side of you, the healing claw marks, worry in his eyes.

He lightly drags his fingertips across them, then looks up at you. It’s gentle, and caring, and soft, and it goes against everything you saw a few hours ago. 

You exhale, and run your fingers through his hair. This is going to be complicated, but you know you care about him, and you feel he cares about you, and you can’t walk away from him, not when he just found his way back into your life. 

His eyebrows are still furrowed, looking down at all of the damage, thinking of all the damage.

“I was just trying to check on you. I thought you were the one being pinned down. I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay. Now I’m just… traumatized,” you exhale.

“Me? Being pinned down? That’s funny. I’d never be in that position,” he shrugs, you smile, then slowly bring your sweatpants back up. 

He hangs his head low, exhales, then nods, and looks up at you. “But I’m sorry. I get it. I would’ve done the same for you, in a heartbeat.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. He looks down at your hips, then back up at you, and stands up again. 

“It’s not. I know that was a lot. I’ll make it up to you, this whole night, all of it, I’ll make it all up to you. But for now, rest, process. I can stay here with you,” he whispers, sitting beside you. 

You both sit, quietly, processing, absentmindedly watching the cooking show he’s put on.

****

Going to post Vampire Next Door exclusively on w*ttpad now because I feel discouraged everytime I post VND chapters on here (it’s just a personal mental thing) and I think tumblr is just better for shorter, sweet and simple works. Thank you for the love *ੈ✩ 

[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 @maomaimao

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Vampire Next Door ♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱ Ch. 12 ⊱From the Outside⊰  prev part

baby chapter (FYI Velvet Vigilante is an OC inspired by the Black Cat)

“Your window was locked; that’s a first.” 

“I started locking it after you.” 

She pulls out a pack and starts to light a cigarette in the middle of the living room.

“No, no. Not in here. Go do that on the fire escape.”

She points at the joint resting in the ashtray beside the couch. It’s unburnt. 

“And that? What’s it for, huh?”

“I’m saving it. It was a gift.”

“Someone gifted you a joint?”

“Go outside!” 

He pushes against her back, forcing her to stumble to the window. 

She crawls through the window, then stands, smoking, fashionably, scowling at Miguel through the window. 

“I’ve given you thorough explanations as to why those things are slowly killing you.”

“Yeah, not again. Keep it to yourself, Spidey.”

He exhales, dragging his hand down his face.

“Ha! There it is. Love making you suicidal. It’s so entertaining,” she grins, cigarette still burning between her teeth.

“You’re evil.” 

“I wonder if pretty girl is up…” she mutters, leaving her lit cigarette on the bricks under his window. 

“Pinche–,” Miguel rushes to put it out. 

She crawls to Y/N’s fire escape. Careful not to be seen through her window. 

He cusses her out, whisper-yelling at her to come back.

“Hey! Idiota! Get away from the window! Don’t drag her into your mess.”

“Oh? Like you did?”

“She doesn’t know about any of it, Vel.” 

“Mmm, the way you say it. ‘Vel,’... you just say it differently… missed that.” Velvet drags her nails down his back, as he stares into Y/N’s window. He shakes from the chills she’s just given him. He abruptly pulls his shoulder away from her. “Stop it, for fuck’s sake. God, you’re so annoying,” he hisses.

“She’s a good girl, Mig, super cool. I know you like her, I know, but we both know how these things end for us. People like us… ‘monsters’ like us, we don’t get to have that.” She points to Y/N, her index finger resting on the glass. She looks back at Miguel, who’s looking in, face softened, she can tell he’s weak for her. 

“Velvet and Y/N, mmm has a nice ring to it. I could use a good fling,” she hums, starting to tap on the glass, knowing it’ll push his buttons. 

Miguel grabs her finger and shoves it down.

“You’re going to stay away from her. You think I’m trouble? Velvet,” he growls, smirking, condescendingly, towering over her. 

“We go way back. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve hurt good people. You’re real trouble.” 

She pushes him. “Asshole. So have you.”

She peeks over his shoulder, looking at a sleeping Y/N.

“I meant it though. She’s good. Wouldn’t want to add her name to your kill count, even if it’s accidental. Take care of her, Mig.”

She walks back to his window, but Miguel lingers, still staring into her window. 

“I’m trying.”

✩ next chapter coming liiiike in an hour or two hehesfhifdh

[lacedinweb22]

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Vampire Next Door ♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱ Ch. 12 ⊱From the Outside⊰  prev part

baby chapter (FYI Velvet Vigilante is an OC inspired by the Black Cat)

“Your window was locked; that’s a first.” 

“I started locking it after you.” 

She pulls out a pack and starts to light a cigarette in the middle of the living room.

“No, no. Not in here. Go do that on the fire escape.”

She points at the joint resting in the ashtray beside the couch. It’s unburnt. 

“And that? What’s it for, huh?”

“I’m saving it. It was a gift.”

“Someone gifted you a joint?”

“Go outside!” 

He pushes against her back, forcing her to stumble to the window. 

She crawls through the window, then stands, smoking, fashionably, scowling at Miguel through the window. 

“I’ve given you thorough explanations as to why those things are slowly killing you.”

“Yeah, not again. Keep it to yourself, Spidey.”

He exhales, dragging his hand down his face.

“Ha! There it is. Love making you suicidal. It’s so entertaining,” she grins, cigarette still burning between her teeth.

“You’re evil.” 

“I wonder if pretty girl is up…” she mutters, leaving her lit cigarette on the bricks under his window. 

“Pinche–,” Miguel rushes to put it out. 

She crawls to Y/N’s fire escape. Careful not to be seen through her window. 

He cusses her out, whisper-yelling at her to come back.

“Hey! Idiota! Get away from the window! Don’t drag her into your mess.”

“Oh? Like you did?”

“She doesn’t know about any of it, Vel.” 

“Mmm, the way you say it. ‘Vel,’... you just say it differently… missed that.” Velvet drags her nails down his back, as he stares into Y/N’s window. He shakes from the chills she’s just given him. He abruptly pulls his shoulder away from her. “Stop it, for fuck’s sake. God, you’re so annoying,” he hisses.

“She’s a good girl, Mig, super cool. I know you like her, I know, but we both know how these things end for us. People like us… ‘monsters’ like us, we don’t get to have that.” She points to Y/N, her index finger resting on the glass. She looks back at Miguel, who’s looking in, face softened, she can tell he’s weak for her. 

“Velvet and Y/N, mmm has a nice ring to it. I could use a good fling,” she hums, starting to tap on the glass, knowing it’ll push his buttons. 

Miguel grabs her finger and shoves it down.

“You’re going to stay away from her. You think I’m trouble? Velvet,” he growls, smirking, condescendingly, towering over her. 

“We go way back. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve hurt good people. You’re real trouble.” 

She pushes him. “Asshole. So have you.”

She peeks over his shoulder, looking at a sleeping Y/N.

“I meant it though. She’s good. Wouldn’t want to add her name to your kill count, even if it’s accidental. Take care of her, Mig.”

She walks back to his window, but Miguel lingers, still staring into her window. 

“I’m trying.”

✩ next chapter coming liiiike in an hour or two hehesfhifdh

[lacedinweb22]

Vampire Next Door ♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱ Ch. 12 ⊱From the Outside⊰  prev part

baby chapter (FYI Velvet Vigilante is an OC inspired by the Black Cat)

“Your window was locked; that’s a first.” 

“I started locking it after you.” 

She pulls out a pack and starts to light a cigarette in the middle of the living room.

“No, no. Not in here. Go do that on the fire escape.”

She points at the joint resting in the ashtray beside the couch. It’s unburnt. 

“And that? What’s it for, huh?”

“I’m saving it. It was a gift.”

“Someone gifted you a joint?”

“Go outside!” 

He pushes against her back, forcing her to stumble to the window. 

She crawls through the window, then stands, smoking, fashionably, scowling at Miguel through the window. 

“I’ve given you thorough explanations as to why those things are slowly killing you.”

“Yeah, not again. Keep it to yourself, Spidey.”

He exhales, dragging his hand down his face.

“Ha! There it is. Love making you suicidal. It’s so entertaining,” she grins, cigarette still burning between her teeth.

“You’re evil.” 

“I wonder if pretty girl is up…” she mutters, leaving her lit cigarette on the bricks under his window. 

“Pinche–,” Miguel rushes to put it out. 

She crawls to Y/N’s fire escape. Careful not to be seen through her window. 

He cusses her out, whisper-yelling at her to come back.

“Hey! Idiota! Get away from the window! Don’t drag her into your mess.”

“Oh? Like you did?”

“She doesn’t know about any of it, Vel.” 

“Mmm, the way you say it. ‘Vel,’... you just say it differently… missed that.” Velvet drags her nails down his back, as he stares into Y/N’s window. He shakes from the chills she’s just given him. He abruptly pulls his shoulder away from her. “Stop it, for fuck’s sake. God, you’re so annoying,” he hisses.

“She’s a good girl, Mig, super cool. I know you like her, I know, but we both know how these things end for us. People like us… ‘monsters’ like us, we don’t get to have that.” She points to Y/N, her index finger resting on the glass. She looks back at Miguel, who’s looking in, face softened, she can tell he’s weak for her. 

“Velvet and Y/N, mmm has a nice ring to it. I could use a good fling,” she hums, starting to tap on the glass, knowing it’ll push his buttons. 

Miguel grabs her finger and shoves it down.

“You’re going to stay away from her. You think I’m trouble? Velvet,” he growls, smirking, condescendingly, towering over her. 

“We go way back. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve hurt good people. You’re real trouble.” 

She pushes him. “Asshole. So have you.”

She peeks over his shoulder, looking at a sleeping Y/N.

“I meant it though. She’s good. Wouldn’t want to add her name to your kill count, even if it’s accidental. Take care of her, Mig.”

She walks back to his window, but Miguel lingers, still staring into her window. 

“I’m trying.”

✩ next chapter coming liiiike in an hour or two hehesfhifdh

+*:ꔫ: NOW HERE +*: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]

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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