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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.
#miguel headcanons#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara imagine#spiderman2099#miguel o'hara atsv#miguel o hara#miguel x reader#spiderman x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara scenarios#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel o'hara x you#spiderman 2099
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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
#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara imagine#spiderman2099#miguel o'hara atsv#miguel x reader#spiderman x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara scenarios#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel o'hara x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 smut#miguel ohara smut
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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 💋
♱ 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 *ੈ✩
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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 💋
♱ 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 *ੈ✩
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
♱ 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 *ੈ✩
#vampire next door#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara headcanons#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel atsv#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x y/n#atsv miguel#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x you#spiderman2099#atsv x reader#spiderman x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse
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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
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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
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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
+*:ꔫ: NOW HERE +*:ꔫ:
#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara headcanons#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel atsv#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x y/n#atsv miguel#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x you#spiderman2099#atsv x reader#spiderman x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#vampire next door
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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⋆:°*
#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara imagine#miguel headcanons#spiderman2099#miguel o'hara atsv#miguel o hara#miguel x reader#spiderman x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara scenarios#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel o'hara x you#spiderman 2099
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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
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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
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman2099#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara atsv#miguel o hara#spider verse#atsv x reader#miguel x reader#spiderman x y/n#spiderman x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara scenarios#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara imagine
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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
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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.
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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 💋
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.
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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.
#atsv headcanons#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel headcanons#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman2099#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara atsv#miguel x reader#spiderman headcanons#spiderman x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara scenarios#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara imagine#vampire next door
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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 💋
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
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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
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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
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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… ;)
NEXT PART here
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
#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman2099#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara atsv#miguel o hara#spider verse#atsv x reader#miguel x reader#spiderman x y/n#spiderman x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara scenarios#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x you#miguel o'hara fanfiction#vampire next door#miguel ohara imagine
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