I'm OK...

I'm OK...

Even if it Takes Forever

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

//Obsessive themes, slight angst, Cloning sciency stuff that I probably got wrong about.

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"Recording? Again? You might as well work as a cameraman instead of a geneticist. " You giggle as you see a camera being pointed at you. You placed a hand at your pregnant belly as you smile at his actions.

Miguel was about to retort back when you both hear Gabriella running towards you.

"Mama! Mama! Look what I got!"

You look towards Gabriella, who has a handful of flowers, cradled in her arms.

"Can we make those flowers crowns again?" She asks as she sits in front of you, down on the picnic blanket.

You happily agree, as Miguel is filming the whole thing.

You and Gabi talked to each other about several things while interwining flower stems.

Gabriella suddenly pulled you down to her height and whispered something, causing the both of you to giggle.

"Say Miguel....Ever thought about modelling?"

"Wha?-" his questioned got cut off when both you and Gabi gently tackled Miguel behind the camera.

The camera got tackled to the floor while laughs and giggles fill the air.

With a swish of his hand, the hologram screen disappeared into thin air.

Silence fill the empty office.

Miguel deeply sighed as he stared into nothing, committing your and Gabi's voice into his head.

"Lyla, what per cent is it on now?"

As the mention of the name, a hologram of a lady appeared.

"You know, it won't get faster the more you ask." Lyla answered back.

"Just. Tell. Me." He sneered at Lyla.

"fifty-six per cent"

"Fifty-Six?! It's already been a month! Run the system again." He exclaimed.

"Numbers are numbers, Miguel. No matter how much you ask me, it won't get any faster."

Miguel groaned. He knew she was right, but the more days passed by, the slower it felt. He tried convincing himself that waiting is part of the progress, but it doesn't feel like he made any.

"Just.....Bring me down there." He said with a sigh as he steps on a small platform separated from his office computers.

Without another word from Lyla, the platform begins to decend, lower and lower into a dark abyss. Perhaps call it a secret passage way.

Once the platform completely lands, lights turn on immediately.

In front of Miguel, there were two human sized capsules connected to multiple tubes and wires to computers.

Inside those two capsules were yours and Gabriella's bodies, floating in blue-ish liquid.

Your face is serene and peaceful, and so is Gabi's.

He still remembers the days when he first started this project.

With the help of 2099 technology, he can make clones upon clones of people with the help of AI and human DNA.

But it wasn't easy.

Within the first trials, he was able to make Gabriella using his DNA, but she only lived up to a week when her internal organs failed due to missing chromosomes. He found out he couldn't make Gabriella without your DNA.

He almost gave up then.

Almost.

The second time, he tried you, using some DNA of a random woman he found.

You only lived for a week when your brain had miscalculations since it couldn't match with the DNA and with the codes he input and before he knew it, your brain self- destructed.

Trials upon trials pile up to a stack.

A missing limb.

An extra finger.

A missing organ.

So on and so forth, failed expirements pile up.

He remembers how much he was persistent on the project, so much that Lyla had to call for Peter and Jess to spray him sleeping gas and connect his body to IVs and nutrition tubes.

But he still didn't give up.

He finally found the solution when he went to another universe, where you are well alive and so is Gabi.

He fought the urge to stay within the universe, but he had learnt his lesson already.

While he watched you and Gabi sleep, he took it an opportunity to take a couple of hairstrands.

After collecting, he undid his mask and kissed your forehead and left with a heavy heart.

But he finally did it.

He remembers how joyous he felt.

He remembers smiling, which felt like since eternity since the last time he did.

Even Lyla was surprised when he stopped giving her angry demands and shouts.

He looked at the computer and saw that your organs,brain, and overall body were stable.

He still had leftover hair samples from you, and with his DNA sample, he also could make Gabriella.

He remembers staring at the capsule for so long that he swore he could be a statue until Lyla had to make him move eventually.

So here he was.

Looking at the unconscious and floating bodies of you and Gabi.

His palm automatically places itself on the glass, and if he imagines hard enough, he could feel your warmth from it.

He looked at the moniter next to your capsule and saw it was still fifty-six per cent, after seventy per cent he could then input the videos he took into your brain which could be made up to your memories, but alas, progress was slow.

His attention then shifted to Gabriella's capsule.

He remembers the way you would always remind him of how much she looks like him.

He would always respond back that Gabi's smile and laugh matches yours.

Oh, how much he misses those sounds.

He looked at her percentage, and it was still the same. Her heartbeat is stable and has a healthy condition.

"Miguel, you have a call." Lyla suddenly appeared on his shoulder.

He sighed, remembering he still has spider duties.

He went back to the platform, and once it started lifting up again, he looked at both of your capsules once again until the lights automatically turned off, leaving him staring at nothing.

He knows it will take forever for you and Gabi to be completely alive again.

But he'll wait even if it takes forever.

Tantrum

Slight!Yan!Astarion x Reader!

In this he doesn’t like to leave readers side at all and HATES being told he can’t come along for the adventure. Astarion is also more of a whiny and clingy yandere in this.

Warnings: I have not played the game yet, this is not canon, whiny and clingy astarion, slightly possessive, me just having fun making him being a babygurl 🌸

Astarion love to be the center of attention in everything, his light always shined through like everywhere was his stage. But he needed to be yours, he only cared to have you think of only him. He was known to go big for just a ounce of your affection, he craved it more then blood. But this time it was different. He was throwing a tantrum all because you had told him to stay back.

“Please. Oh please.” On his knees he took your legs into his arms, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “I promise to be good,” his thick accent rang through your ears. “I wouldn’t get upset anymore.” His head rested on your stomach now as he held you tight.

It was hard to keep a balance when he wouldn’t let you move a inch, “Astarion.” You groan and place your hand on his white locks. “I need to go. Today I need to do somethings and I know you’ll get displeased if you’re there.” He whimpered and huffed. He was so different when he got clingy, most of the time he was so dominant and teasing.

“But i wouldn’t.” He looked up at you with a smile that showed his teeth, “Promise, darling.” You knew he was just putting on a face and voice to trick you. Or maybe he even he believed it himself, but you knew he couldn’t.

You look down and tilt your head, moving your hand down to his cheek and he welcomed the touch. “No, sorry.” He glared harshly at you. You didn’t care, he wasn’t coming with you today. “How about, when I get back we can cause our own trouble.” That seems to catch his attention and he hummed in thought.

“Fine.” He let you go and pushed himself away from you, a slight pout on his lips. “But you’re mine until I let you go.” Crossing his arms and putting his weight onto one foot. You chuckled and moved forward to kiss his cheek, “Of course.”

“I can’t believe I let you get away with these things, you should be thankful.” He licked his lips and looked over at you. You gave him a look “Ever so thankful.” Astarion didn’t care if it was sarcasm, he took what he could get.

daddy’s smart and you’re the prettiest lady in the whole wide world ... 💜

Nail Biter

Yandere Phinks x Reader

Synopsis: Phinks fails to make a good first impression.

Warnings: yandere content, kidnapped reader, murder, stalking mentions, fem reader, honestly no one’s rlly having a good time here, lightly proofread.

4622 words... both phinks and reader are cringe at best and inept at worst

There’s a palpable tension in the car, both you and Phinks on edge. A sudden action from either one of you could set the other one off. You’re terrified that he’ll suddenly pull over and decide he’s found a good spot to kill you, or maybe he’ll end up crashing into a deer or something with how fast the car is going. Phinks on the other hand, is itching to drive even faster and get to his place already, constantly stealing glances at you to make sure you aren’t trying anything.

Perhaps a slew of bad decisions on both of your parts (mostly his) led to your current predicament. Phinks, white-knuckling the steering wheel while you were sitting nervously in the passenger seat, having been thrown in like a sack of potatoes. You witnessing his violent act killed any chance that he could hold a normal relationship with you, he might as well have given up on that avenue. Phinks goes back and forth between blaming his victim, you, and himself for his romantic venture turning out like this. It doesn’t help that you’re refusing to even look at him and staying (what he felt) was eerily quiet the whole time. There were a few claw marks on his hand and forearm, and you scuffed his tracksuit quite a bit; even going as far as to bite him any chance you got. However, once he got you into the car and sped off, your fight died off somewhat quickly. It wasn’t till he sped off that you stopped trying to get out; he had to hold you in place with one hand while his other shoved the key in to start the car. If Phinks wasn’t used to thinking and acting quickly, he might have lost you.

 Phinks, for his part, really wasn’t sure what to do. The entire thing had been a bit impromptu. He hadn’t expected you to turn the corner just as he was snapping a man’s neck, but you did, and Phinks had to think fast. Sure, he could have just let you run away. Let you go and tell the police what you saw and cry about it in your apartment for the next few weeks. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but you were just so close. It was like instinct was to take what was right in front of him, and he acted before he could think. Damn you. Damn you and all of the things you do to him, and all of the stupid decisions you make. Why the hell did you have to walk instead of taking the bus like you always do? Phinks glances at you, and he feels a strange mix of placidity and anxiety. Your presence lulls his raging emotions, yet he can’t ignore the situation he’s forced himself into. It’s too soon, he isn’t ready to reveal himself or his feelings to you. How can he? He pushes his own inner turmoil to the side, he can deal with all of that once he’s got you home. He isn’t in the clear yet.

Phinks continues to drive, trying to focus on the road. He occasionally glances back at you, just to make sure you aren’t fiddling with the car door or trying to roll the window down. In his peripheral vision, he can now see you staring at him. He doesn’t make any visible or audible mention of it, but just having you look at him does make him feel a bit jittery. His heart is akin to a schoolgirl having her crush accept her feelings— he wonders what you’re thinking about. What you think of him, if you think he’s handsome? For a brief moment, if he can ignore the exact circumstances he’s forced you in, it almost feels like his work has paid off. Finally, you’re looking his way, giving him some of your attention that he so desires. Phinks remains ignorant to the fact that your eyes are glued to the flecks of blood on the collar of his tracksuit and on his chest. Occasionally your gaze drifts to the car’s speedometer. 

He’s driving fast enough on the backroads that you’ve put on your seatbelt and that you cling to for any sort of comfort. Perhaps the latter is being overly cautious, while he isn’t driving at an outrageous speed it’s well enough over the speed limit. Too fast for you to reasonably open the car door and throw yourself out. With how quick he was to pull you away and into his car (which you’re beginning to think is stolen), you doubt he’d have any trouble keeping you in the car if you even tried it. Your leg bounces and your fingers twitch nervously, even after a few deep breaths you can’t calm yourself down. There’s an awful pit that's being dug deeper and deeper in your stomach. 

The drive continues without a word from either of you, the tension is too thick and Phinks isn’t charismatic enough to say anything that will make this situation better. You aren’t in the mood for chatting either, still jittery and on edge. If you hadn’t dropped your phone in the struggle to get away from him, you’d be trying to sneak a text to a friend right about now, urging them to notify the police. Phinks is just thankful you haven’t tried to grab the steering wheel and make him crash, that’s not to say he isn’t prepared for it if you do try.. His eyes drift to the dashboard and he clicks his tongue in annoyance; the car didn’t have much gas left. Another display of his poor planning. He knew the roads in the area well enough to know there was a gas station up ahead, but with how his luck has been today he’s convinced he might not make it. 

Around ten minutes pass before he makes it to the gas station, pulling in next to a pump. The gas station is isolated, there aren’t any buildings nearby that you can see. The closest structure is a giant billboard advertising a real estate service. There are a few dips and ditches in the land and past that are multiple trees scattered around. Not exactly a forest, but close enough. Phinks looks at you as he shuts the car off, about to head inside. “Just stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.” You don’t give him a verbal response, you don’t even so much as nod your head. There’s a brief pause where you’re both waiting for the other to say something. Phinks gives up and breaks the silence. “Just… Don’t try anything.” You nod to acknowledge he said anything at all. He leaves and you’re left alone in the car, watching him go inside of the gas station. You look around, and there aren’t any other cars or people at the other pumps. You wait for a minute, unable to see anything inside of the building from where you are. 

Like hell, you were just going to sit here and let yourself be driven to a second location. You keep your eyes on the gas station building, fiddling with the car door until you finally unlock it. To your surprise, the door opens with far too much ease.

He hadn’t turned the child lock on.

You hesitate, your eyes locked on the gas station door. You can’t see inside from where you are, but if you don’t act now then you’ll lose your chance. With that, you slip out and close the car door behind you. You run entirely out of the gas station, into the grass, and closer to the tree line. It’d be a start at losing him at least. Before you’re able to get more than a few yards away, he’s somehow already run behind you to drag you back. The second you register the sound of him coming over is the second he’s right behind you, and you can feel the anger and near panic radiating off of him. “Goddamnit! I thought you were doing okay!” He says, yanking you back into his chest. A calloused hand slaps over your mouth before you can start screaming. You kick at nothing, then kick back at his shins. His other arm wraps around your waist, managing to pin your arms down to your sides. Phinks forces himself to not retract his hand when you start biting at the skin of his palm, doing everything you can to get away from him.

“Stop it already!“ He doesn’t let go, but he doesn’t want to hold you too tightly, even if you are desperate to get away from him- lest he forget his own strength and end up hurting you. For the briefest of seconds, he removes his hand from your mouth so as to not be bitten, and it’s all you need to finally start talking. “Get the fuck off of me!” You scream, testing his patience. For the first time in this whole ordeal, you speak to him and it catches him off guard. It hurts, a little, for him to realize that the first words you ever directly spoke to him were out of fear and probably immense disdain.

You’re so loud that he’s positive if anyone was passing by on the road they would have heard you. The gas station attendant would have most certainly heard you as well if Phinks hadn’t knocked their head off. He bares the mild pain and lets you bite down on his hand, anything to keep you quiet. After a bit longer of fitful thrashing in his arms, you burn yourself out. Your breathing and heart rate slow to a somewhat steady rhythm; Phiks is thankful at the moment that things look like they’re de-escalating. The both of you remain still and the only sounds are the cicadas in the distance and a driver passing by on the road, unable to see you two in the roadside ditch. Phinks opens his mouth to scold you, and you kick back as hard as you can at his leg, whether it’s his knee or shin doesn’t matter to you. 

It's enough to elicit a pained grunt from him and he loosens his grip ever so slightly, enough for you to try to force your way out of his arms. In doing so you nearly fall into the grass and he grabs you again by your shirt. What ensues is a power struggle that you’re beginning to lose. Phinks drags you by whatever he can, whether it’s your arm or your shirt back to the car, so fast that you can’t keep up with him. His grip tightens to the point where you won’t be able to break free unless you somehow chop your own arm off. By the time you’re both back in his car, you’re catching your breath and there’s dirt staining both of your clothes. 

There’s a long silence, with Phinks still holding onto your wrist, not trusting you to not continue to act out. Phinks looks over to you, still pissed off. “Are you proud of yourself? You did all that for nothing, you didn’t even make it very far.” He sneers, a sharp edge to his voice. You look at him, noticing more blood on his tracksuit and on his knuckles. It wasn’t there before, surely not. “God, all I told you to do was stay in the car, is that so fucking difficult?” He exasperates, his face twisted in frustration. “Why? So you can drive me somewhere to dump my body after you kill me?!” You shout back, your voice shrill. To say you were fearful was a gross understatement.

“Kill you? You think I’m doing all of this shit just to kill you?!” Phinks yells at you, offended you’d come to such a conclusion. “What the hell else am I supposed to think?!” It dawns on him that his lack of explanation most likely lead you to believe the worst. His hands ball into fists and he clenches his jaw, then unclenches. No point in arguing with you, that would only serve to take things from bad to abysmal for both of you. “If I was going to kill you I would’ve done it a while ago,” Phinks says, forcing a calm tone of voice and not realizing that his response doesn’t comfort you in the slightest. If anything he’s even scarier when he tries to force himself to calm down. 

There’s a long, awkward pause. “Then what are you going to do?” You ask in a quieter voice, though not exactly a whisper. You’re still (rightfully) on edge and could go back to screaming and biting him. Phinks doesn’t answer, his lips pressed together in a thin line. This isn’t exactly how he expected things to go; certainly not how he wanted things to go. “I’m not gonna do anything to you. You’re gonna be fine, you just gotta come with me,” Phinks says, not directly answering your question. It doesn’t convince you, he can tell. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.“ Phinks grabs your hand, taking it into his calloused one and giving it a (in his opinion), light squeeze. You squeeze his hand back; if only to have something to hold on to. “You promise?” “I promise.”

Words really don’t mean anything, but you suppose he hasn’t tried to kill you thus far. Still, you don’t feel good about being taken somewhere else. Escaping wasn’t much of an option anymore, all you could do was wait for your next opportunity. “Here, I got you this.” He fishes out of his tracksuit pocket a roll of mini donuts, the generic gas station snack. Phinks tosses them carelessly onto your lap, his hand twitching to take them back and hand the snack to you properly. He refrains from doing so, and you take the donuts into your hand. Plain and powdered, something you’d probably want to wash down with water after eating. Phinks is staring at you, waiting for you to say something, and you doubt asking for a water bottle is what he wants to hear. “Thank you.” You murmur after a long pause, which seems to sate him. You avoid his staring, keeping your eyes focused on the donuts in your lap. Phinks doesn’t say anything, he’s just glad you’ve finally relaxed enough to not keep fighting him. 

With that, the drive continues and you hardly feel better about your situation. It isn’t until what must be two more hours that you get to what you have to assume is his house. It’s isolated from the rest of the city, sitting alone in an area that can only be described as “shady” at best. The car slows to a stop in the driveway and you both step out, you leaving the donut wrapper in his car. Phinks looks you over once you’re inside, at your frazzled hair and clothes with sweat and dirt. He doesn’t look so good himself, his usually slicked-back hair having a few flyaways and his tracksuit being scuffed up and slightly bloodied. “Do you want to take a shower?” He blurts out, thinking you’d appreciate a chance to clean yourself up. You eye him cautiously, unsure of what to make of his offer. It couldn’t hurt to be polite, you guess. “...Sure.”

The shower doesn’t soothe your anxiety much, if anything your nerves are all over the place. You’re constantly on alert, not trusting him to not try to do something while you’re naked in an enclosed space. You regret taking the offer, too paranoid to stay in here longer than you have to. You go through the shower fairly quickly, not having much to do when all he has is body wash and shampoo. No conditioner. You don’t even want to imagine how dry his hair must be. At least he owned a loofa…? You go through the motions, hardly able to think. Your mind races with all of the possibilities, anything and everything that could happen to you. Maybe your friends noticed you haven’t texted back, maybe they realized something was up. Maybe the police found the dead man that started all of this, maybe the authorities were already looking for you.

Maybe not.

Phinks remains in the living room and for once throughout this whole ordeal, decides to relax. He turns on the television, keeping the volume on the lower side so he’s still able to hear the shower running. The news reporter is discussing things he isn’t interested in, changes to local policies, and a story about a dog stuck in a tree. A familiar graphic comes on screen to indicate a “breaking story”, or really anything of interest. A homicide at a gas station in the neighboring county is described as incredibly gruesome. Phinks quickly changes the channel once he realizes the news reporter is talking about the gas station attendant he killed. His attention returns to you in the shower, and he thinks that he should probably get you something to wear. No point in a shower if you have to wear the same dirty clothes. Though he doesn’t have any women’s clothing for you…

Then again, he has always imagined what you would look like wearing one of his shirts.

He finds himself in his bedroom, sifting through his belongings and his old shirts. Phinks goes back and forth on it, unsure of what to do. He could give you one of his shirts, and it’s something he’s thought about for a long time; the visual of you wearing one of his oversized shirts, how it’d cling to your frame, it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. Though in his fantasies, you were doing it out of love and not because it was all you had to wear. Phinks finds himself at odds with what to do. What if you didn’t like it, or thought it was weird? Or if you thought the shirt smelled bad? Wouldn’t giving you his shirt be a bit too on the nose? Too forward with his feelings? Not that he necessarily wanted to hide how strongly he felt for you, but he wants to salvage what he can and make as good of a first impression as he’s able to. The last thing he needed was to come across as some deranged pervert. 

Phinks huffs, ruminating on what to do. It’s not like the shirt is stained or anything… It should be fine. He comes to the conclusion that you’re basically his now, and if he wants you to wear his shirt then you’ll wear his damn shirt. You’re his to do whatever he wants with, it shouldn’t matter if you complain about it, there isn’t anything you can do. You’ve given him enough trouble, enough reasons to not be so gentle with you. With that, he takes the shirt as well as some old basketball shorts and heads to the bathroom, not bothering to knock. From what he can hear, the shower has already been turned off. He turns the knob without much warning, though you could hear his footsteps getting closer anyway. The aggression behind his possessive thoughts melts away when he sees you, wide-eyed and jumpy. The shower didn’t seem to calm your nerves, you’re clinging to the towel like your life depends on it. The clothes you were wearing before were dumped in a pile on the floor, and you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.

“Uh- here. You can wear these.” Phinks says, and you awkwardly take the clothes from him. You don’t say anything at first, holding them and the towel up. You close the door on him, and he can hear you shuffling around in the bathroom. He presses his ear to the door, and pretty quickly it’s opened with you changed into his clothes. He takes in how you look, staring a bit too hard and a bit too long. There’s a wild mix of emotions and thoughts going through him, and he smiles slightly at how it’s all finally realized. How he’s finally got his hands on you. Sure, it isn’t perfect, you aren’t here willingly and he doesn’t have most of the things you’d need (clothes and conditioner stick out as the main things), but he has plenty of time to make it better. “Here, come with me.” Phinks guides you down an adjacent hallway and you follow trepidatiously. The door he brings you to leads to his bedroom. “You can sleep here, I’ll be in the living room.” He says, and he waits for any response from you. Phinks is willing to take anything at this point, nearing on desperate to hear you say something, to just talk to him. “Okay.” Your voice is unsure, and you look back at him briefly. “Thanks.”  

You said ‘thanks’; surely that was a step in the right direction. He wishes you said more, he wishes you’d call him by his name and ask him for something. Anything. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t give or do for you, aside from letting you leave. Anything to hear you talk to him and address him. You don’t though, and that’s the end of the interaction. There’s a distinct social ineptitude that prevents Phinks from doing anything other than closing the door behind you after nudging you inside. There’s an audible click as he locks the door behind you, and you’re left alone again.

You feel both dread and relief that Phinks didn’t come into the room with you. Dread at the situation you find yourself in, and the fact that he could come in anytime and do anything he wanted, and relief that for now, he isn’t doing anything to hurt you. Relief that things don’t seem to be headed for the worst. The bedroom is obviously his, it’s too personalized to not be. His house isn’t exactly huge, but it’s big enough that you would think he had a guest bedroom, though you didn’t see one when you had the chance to look around. Perhaps you should just be thankful he didn’t put you in his garage or his basement for the night.

 A few minutes pass, and Phinks doesn’t return. You finally walk over to the bed, looking around. There’s a lamp and a bottle of lotion on the bedside table, empty beer cans in a small trash can, and an out-of-place painting awkwardly placed on the wall. You can see cracks blooming from behind the painting in the wall, and when you check behind it, there’s a hole in the drywall. Phinks hadn’t thought to fix it, or maybe the painting was just temporary until he got around to it. You traipse over to the window, looking out of it. The area he took you to is more isolated than you thought. The window is sealed shut and even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t look easy to break. Maybe you’d give it a try later if Phinks ever left the house. 

You continue looking around, bordering on invasive as you go through his closet and all of his clothes. The first thing of note is that he has three variations of the same tracksuit. You don’t care much for his privacy, not after all he’s put you through. In the bedside table’s cabinet are a few condoms with a light layer of dust on them, and in the second drawer beneath it are a variety of assorted items. The same brand of hand lotion you use is one of them, and you can’t imagine why he’d have it. The impression you got from Phinks wasn’t one that suggested he would ever use “Gingham Gorgeous Hand Cream”, and as you hold the small bottle you notice that it isn’t new either. You push the idea that it’s the same one you lost a few weeks ago out of your mind, that’s completely ridiculous. The other items included (but certainly weren’t limited to) press-on nails that seem to have fallen off someone’s hand (the same kind you wore last month), old lip balms that ran out, and even a scented hand sanitizer, the kind that comes in small capsules.

…Maybe he had a girlfriend who liked to store her belongings in his bedside drawer, and just had very similar shopping habits as you? You quickly shut the drawer, unable to think about what you just saw for more than a few minutes. Maybe you should get some sleep. You really should get some sleep. You shut off the lights, the warm glow from the lamp still illuminating the room for you. It’s nice, not too dark but dark enough that you could theoretically fall asleep. You sit down on his bed, doing a quick look over with your eyes. It didn’t appear he had bed bugs or anything of the sort. No suspicious stains either. You awkwardly settle under the blankets. He has no comforter, you’re not sure if you expected him to have one either. You lean over and debate on whether you should flick off the lamp. You decide to leave it on in case you need to get up and be alert to your surroundings. If something does happen, you don’t want to be in total darkness. 

In the living room, Phinks tries to relax, not wanting to fall entirely asleep in case you try anything but to just get some rest. The couch isn’t particularly comfortable, but it isn’t bad either when he thinks about all of the other places he’s been forced to sleep. Phinks realizes he probably should have gotten himself a blanket or a pillow, but it’s not like he has a spare on hand. He makes a mental note to go get one the next time he goes out. He makes a second mental note to write up a shopping list, he has a lot more to buy than just those. Phinks wonders if you’re awake, or if you’ve managed to fall asleep. Luckily, he was smart enough to clean his bedsheets last week. His ears strain to hear anything coming from the bedroom, if you’re moving around or not. The house is quiet, spare from a deep sigh coming from Phinks and the living room fan whirring away. 

He can’t sleep.

Phinks, without much thought, gets up and goes to his bedroom, cracking the door open to make sure you’re still there. Thankfully, you are, huddled under the blankets. That isn’t enough though, he needs to know that you’re sleeping. He paces into his bedroom, so used to keeping his footsteps silent that he doesn’t even think about it. To his relief, you’ve already fallen asleep. He comes closer, moving the blanket just a bit to get a better look at you. It’s hard to imagine that your slumber is peaceful, but Phinks would like to think that it is. As he stands over you, he’s hit with what must be his nth realization of the day: he still hasn’t explained anything to you or so much as told you who he was. That would just have to wait till tomorrow, no point in waking you up for a midnight chat. His eyes sting with a familiar dryness and he’s already missing his own bed. He gets into bed with you, keeping his distance for a few moments before shuffling closer. You’re so close, you’re so warm. Phinks cautiously brings himself even closer, his body pressing against yours beneath the blanket. Surely he’ll wake up before you do, if only to pretend he’s a half-decent man. 

For now, he’ll close his eyes and rest for just a short while. 

I need this man in my life pls

had to draw more flower crown Halsin/Niamh. Everyone in camp is screaming at them to get a room.

A little prank

Warnings: 18+, mdni, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem!rec), Miguel x fem!reader, around 1250 words

"Miguel, are you crazy? We can´t do it here, let´s at least go to your office" she whisper-yells as she tries to push him away at his chest, too embarrassed to do something like this in public.

But Miguel doesn't really care, instead he relishes in the sight before him, red cheeks, a bit scared, shaken and embarrassed.

Mocking her with a roll of his hips while cornering her in the hallway of the spider society.

"Come on what's wrong? Don't like this hermosa? Usually you go crazy when I do this, what happened? hm?"

He bends down to whisper in her ear, keep rolling his hips against her while his hands find her ass, kneading it hard.

Gasping, she answers him "I d-do but not here... please... what if- what if somebody sees us?"

He only chuckles deep and lowly, feeling the vibration on her hands from his chest.

"Then let's give them a good show hm. What do you say?" Miguel can literally see the panic spreading in her eyes "No no no no, don't you dare-" she tries to sound angry and scary.

But miguel finds her attempt too cute to resist, he leans down and kisses her deeply, effectivily shutting her up while his hands spread her cheeks apart.

She let's out little gasps against his lips and Miguel uses that moment to deepen the kiss by pushing his tongue inside her.

After their tongue twirled around each others, exchanging their spit, he gently bites her lower lip and pulls it slightly.

Miguel then proceeds to trail little kisses on her jaw till behind her ear, where he knows it's her weak spot.

He kisses the place behind her ear, then nibbles on her shell and before he leans back to look at her, he gives it a little lick as well and he can feel how she practically melts in his arms while her hands gave up the idea of pushing him away.

Sucking her lower lip between her teeth, in an effort to be as quiet as possible while Miguel pushes his leg between hers, rubbing his thigh on her clothed pussy.

"Miguel... please I'm begging you... not here" she whimpers, her eyes tearing up due to her embarrassment of getting caught.

But the Spider doesn't stop instead he presses down harder against her heat, earning a little moan "Don't worry, Did you forget that I'm the leader here and since you're my woman", he pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "I can tell you that you're safe with me bebita"

His one hand creeps up to her hair, gripping it and tilting it so that she is forced to look at him while his other I holding her jaw, squishing her cheeks. "Now if you want to keep your pants whole, I would suggest you take them off preciosa"

She feels so small in front of him, looming over her and his eyes tell her that there is no room for discussion.

That's why with shaky hands she opens her pants and tries to push them down as best as she could. Praying that nobody needs to go through this hallway.

"Good girl" he smiles, rewarding her with a little head pat as he lets her go and goes down to pull her pants off completely. He starts to plant little kisses on her lower belly while caressing the side of her hips, feeling every part of her.

Before pulling her panties with his teeth, he admires the wet spot on by pressing his fingers against it, making her suck in her breath.

Hiding her face in her hands while breathing heavy, too scared that somebody will cross this hallway and see her this exposed.

Miguel spreads her legs a bit and gives her a wet kiss down there, earing a little whimper. "Don't hide from me, bebita" hesitatantly she removes her hands.

"Open up" he orders as he pushes the hem of the shirt into her mouth, so he can have a clear view on her chest as well. "Doing so well for me, my pretty muneca."

Miguel then pulls the bra up so fast that her boobs painfully bounce up and down. He grabs each tit in his large hands and starts playing with them.

His mouth closes around the left one, sucking and licking it until its hard, leaving her whimpering and legs shaking while the other pinches her right one.

She decides to close her eyes because if someone really would come she wouldn´t have to see them and as Miguel sees this, he can´t help but chuckle at her cute hiding attempt.

"Do you want to know a secret?" he would slowly kiss his way up to her neck, leaving little hickeys.

The only answer he gets is a nod from her bright red face.

"Nobody can cross this hallway right now... do you know why?" again the he only gets is a shake. "Because I´m selfish, bebita".

Confusion is now written clearly on her face and she whips her head to the side to look at him.

"You´re mine... and I would never allow somebody to even get a glance of you in this state... because it´s for my eyes only" he confesses his jealously and her mind slowly relaxes at the new information.

Finally able to enjoy this moment with him.

But before she gets to answer him, Miguel is quick to go on his knees again to lift one of her legs on his shoulder while attaching his mouth to her pussy.

Miguel would always start slow by dragging his tongue between her folds, tasting her first then he would give her clit a wet kiss. He wants to show her how much he adores her and her body.

Which sometimes leads to a lot of teasing and edging but today he felt like he had scared her enough by withholding the fact that he locked the hallway.

That´s why he decides to add one of his fingers now instead of later.

His finger would add enough pressure against her sweet spot and his tongue would draw the perfect pattern on her clit.

Even though he assured her that nobody could see her, she can´t help but feel anxious and tries her best to keep quiet because maybe the hallways aren´t soundproof.

She would bite on her shirt in an attempt to muffle her moans while her hands would find their way on his hair, pulling them closer to her heat, desperately wanting that release.

After some time she can´t help but let go of the shirt and moan his name as she feels her orgasm coming. The way her walls tighten and the burning feeling in her lower belly make her begging for her high.

"Miguel~ Please, don´t stop, keep going nghh, I´m so close, Miguel baby, pleasepleaseplease"

Hearing her begging is like music to his ears and he wishes he could always record and always replay it.

He tries to keep his pace as best as possible and soon she is creaming around his finger with her head thrown back, his name rolling off her tongue with glossy eyes.

Miguel would swallow everything she gave him and then slowly rise up while wrapping an arm around her waist, supporting her heavy breating and trembling body.

"See, it wasn´t that bad, was it?" he would ask in a smug tone before kissing her tenderly. But he doesn´t get a replay from her since she is still mad that he hasn´t told her right away. Instead she pouts and punishing him with the silent treatment.

After she calms down he would kneel again to help her put her panties and pants back on and walk out as if nothing has happend.

🕸🕷

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