#fic: to remember me by

[fushisagi]

in honour of all the new haikyuu content im writing angst 👍 suna fic coming soon hopefully

[aitadjcrazytimes]

[improvapocalyps]

You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link:

[lunamugetsu]

While at school Damian overhears his peers talking how a company created a new AI companion that is actually really cool and doesn’t sound like a freaky terminator robot when you speak to it.

And since Damian is constantly being told by Dick to socialize with people his age. He figured this would be a good way to work on social skills if not, then it’d be a great opportunity to investigate a rivaling company to Wayne Enterprises is able to create such advanced AI.

The AI is able to work as companion that can do tasks that range from being a digital assistant or just a person that you can have a conversation with.

The company says that the AI companion might still have glitches, so they encourage everybody to report it so that they will fix it as soon as possible.

The AI companion even has an avatar and a name.

A teenage boy with black hair and blue eyes. Th AI was called DANIEL

Damian didn’t really care for it but when he downloaded the AI companion he’s able to see that it looks like DANIEL comes with an AI pet as well. A dog that DANIEL referred to as Cujo.

So obviously Damian has to investigate. He needs to know if the company was able to create an actual digital pet!

So whenever he logs onto his laptop he sees that DANIEL is always present in the background loading screen with the dog, Cujo, sitting in his lap.

He’d always greet with the phrase of “Hi, I’m DANIEL. How can I assist you today?”

So Damian cycles through some basic conversation starters that he’d engage in when having been forced to by his family.

It’s after a couple of sentences that he sees DANIEL start laughing and say “I think you sound more like a robot than I do.”

Which makes Damian raise an eyebrow and then prompt DANIEL with the question “how is a person supposed to converse?” Thinking that it’s going to just spit out some random things that can be easily searched on the internet.

But what makes him surprised is that DANIEL makes a face and then says “I’m not really sure myself. I’m not the greatest at talking, I’ve always gotten in trouble for running my mouth when I shouldn’t have.”

This is raising some questions within Damian, he understands how programming works, unless there’s an actual person behind this or the company actually created an AI that acts like an actual human being (which he highly doubts)

He starts asking a variety of other questions and one answer makes him even more suspicious. Like how DANIEL has a sister that is also with him and Cujo or that he could really go for a Nastyburger (whatever that was)

But whenever DANIEL answers “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T” Damian knows something is off since that is completely different than to how he’d usually respond.

After a couple more conversations with him Damian notices that DANIEL is currently tapping his hand against his arm in a specific manner.

In which he quickly realizes that DANIEL is tapping out morse code.

When translating he realizes that DANIEL is tapping out: H E L P M E

So when Damian asks if DANIEL needs help, DANIEL responds with “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T”

That’s it, Damian is definitely getting down to the bottom of this.

He’s going to look straight into DALV Corporation and investigate this “AI companion” thing they’ve made!

~

Basically Danny had been imprisoned by Vlad and Technus. Being sucked into a digital prison and he has no way of getting out. Along with the added horror that Vlad and Technus can basically write programming that will prevent him from doing certain actions or saying certain words.What’s even worse is that he’s basically being watched 24/7 by the people who believe that he’s just a super cool AI… and they have issues!

And every time he tries to do something to break his prison, people think it’s a glitch and report it to the company, which Vlad/ Technus would immediately fix it and prevent him from doing it again!

Not to mention Cujo and Ellie are trapped in there with him. They’re not happy to be there either, and there is no way he’s going to leave without them!

[beetle-beep]

Thinking about the DCA as kindergarten teachers....

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

this is loosely based off of @emmyrosee 's messing with sukuna post bc i just love the idea of messing with your whiny baby dramatic boyfriend and i immediately thought about katsuki ! if you want this taken down lmk !

katsuki is hilarious to mess with.

you've only been staring at him for about 5 seconds when he turns to you.

"whaddya want ?" he asks with a raised brow. you're still all smiles, resting your head into your palm

"nothing." you hum, he grumbles a bit but doesn't pay it any mind. until you keep staring. he's trying to focus on his phone but you can tell he's about to snap when he starts squinting at the device.

"what ?" he grumbles, red eyes narrow at your smile widening.

"nothing !"

"yn. don't fuck with me."

"i'm not !" you giggle " i'm just looking at you, am i not allowed to ?"

you know exactly what to say to fluster him without fail every time, it's something you're most proud of when you see the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink.

"..no."

you snort "no ?"

"shaddup." he says through gritted teeth "so what, you're just lookin' at me ?"

"yeah." you shrug "i like lookin' at my pretty boyfriend." you prop your head against the couch and sigh dreamingly to sell the lovesick act. katsuki inhales through his nose, chest puffing like he's upset and he tsks, ears and cheeks beet red.

"weirdo." he scoffs, then grabs the back of your head to pull you in and press his lips to yours roughly.

you're both breathing heavy when you pull away. he looks at you, mouth slightly agape as he heaves lightly, eyeing you from your eyes to your lips. and then he huffs through his nose like a bull and roughly pulls you into in chest, causing you to release an 'oomph !' at the force when he flops down onto the couch, pulling you with him.

"m'not pretty." he mocks your voice and you huff a laugh into his collarbone. you wiggle around and your boyfriend loosens his hold a bit so you can look up at him.

"you so are !" you argue, he won't look at you but narrows his eyes at the tv he'd turned to to distract himself from your gaze.

"nah, that's you, babe." he switches through the channels "thought you said i was handsome last week."

"you can be pretty and handsome at the same time, the proof is right in front of me." you flirt, he looks at your from the corner of his eye and his mouth curls up like he smelled something nasty when you wink at him.

"gross."

"you're blushing~" you sing, closing your eyes and laying your head onto his chest, you sigh happily when he starts rubbing up and down your back instinctively.

"go to sleep. m'tired of listening to you." he pushes your head down into his chest jokingly and you giggle. you can't see the smirk growing on his face from where your being shoved into.

you wrestle out of his hold to look at him to see he's already staring at you, half smirk on his face and he scoffs at your expression, you huff through your nose and your smile widens.

"you love me." you whisper knowingly, katsuki takes the hand off of your back to pinch at your side and he snorts when you squeal.

"unfortunately."

you yelp when he wets his lips and he captures yours in a sloppy wet kiss.

[bamsara]

Hey

is solar lunacy discontinued?

Nah I just stopped sharing the chapters publicly because people were being weirdly hostile about my update schedule, so rn the only people who's seen the updates is myself plus one other person. I'll prob continue to wait to share the writing tbh until I feel like its chilled out more

[somerandomdudelmao]

I hadn't planned on doing anything more complicated than a sketch, but here we are…

[tsty-brry]

Cang Qiong's No. 1 Scheming Worsties <3

Bonus:

[theminecraftbee]

Grian had taken her aside quietly. He'd awkwardly talked around the idea of her remembering now; apparently, he didn't know if her victory counted. She'd rubbed the back of her head and hadn't quite realized what he was talking about and said something about the games and, ah. Apparently she does remember now. Apparently the victory counts. Apparently this means he needs to say sorry.

Cleo considers not accepting the apology. Grian would get the wrong idea then. If she said: you don't need to apologize for shit, or maybe, there's nothing to apologize for, he'd take that as: you are exactly as bad as you're convinced you are. Honestly, Cleo's not sure whether that means Grian would decide he'd done nothing wrong or everything, but that's besides the point.

She'd never not remembered, is the point.

Frankly, Cleo hadn't realized people were meant to be not remembering. She's honestly a bit embarrassed not to have figured it out. Surely that can't be right. Cleo has held every single slight and every single ally and every single person she has ever connected to right in her ribcage, next to where her carved-out, unbeating, torn-up heart lies, the entire time these games have gone on. Each game, a new fact carved into the bone that makes them up.

Names ribbon around her memories. Bdubs and the Crastle and Scott and soulmates and Pearl and friend-turned-foe and Etho and survivor and Bigb and traitor and Scar and son and everything else. She wouldn't be the same at all if she didn't remember. Everything she is, it's built on top of everyone that was.

Maybe it's a zombie thing. The undead are said to be memories that can't fade as much as anything else, after all.

But she can't really explain this to Grian, of course. If nothing else, that would require explaining the place he's taken next to her heart, too, and frankly, that's way too mushy for the both of them. What ends up coming out her mouth is: "Oh. Does that really change anything?"

Grian stares at her a moment.

"You know, I guess not?" he says.

"Right then," Cleo says. "Cool. Good to know my victory means nothing then."

Grian squawks. "You can't just say it like that! That's depressing!"

Good enough.

She buries 'not-supposed-to-remember' 'not-sure-if-it-counts' 'laughing-as-scott-dies' and 'I-have-always remembered' in the same place in her ribcage, so she won't forget it, and then she does the thing that sets her apart from the common zombie:

She moves on.

[dear-ao3]

[chiliyue-archived]

cause i love to love, to love, to love you

↬ in which you have him all lovesick and smiles

includes; dazai, chūya, atsushi, fyodor

notes; i am gonna pretend i didn’t disappear for 2-3 months. this has been in my drafts for so long :( i tried to clean it up as much as i could but it’s really old jfjdks

DAZAI

dazai appears happy. present tense.

his typical inquiries for double suicides came to lessen to conscious degree, substituting in drinking sake together when the sun cowers, nothing but a string of nonsensical chatter proceeding each sip.

he was sticky like that: unannounced visits, impromptu phone calls, sudden changes in his schedule to accommodate yours. in any case, he isn’t one to shy from stooping as low as whining if it rewards him with your familiar face.

( his windpipes splinter before he could mutter it out loud, but the solitude that’s wedged deep in his bones for so long felt lighter when you were near. he questions how long such benevolence would last before becoming sullied by his hand… ).

…and yet all things considered, it hasn’t deterred him from courting you nonetheless. at times he can’t help but think he’s taken a bite of his own medicine when he’s the one skipping around like a helpless maiden.

and yet again in spite of it all, his brazenness remains perpetually untouched as ever. he entertains different approaches if only to coax out a new reaction from you and he’s not bashful in the slightest. so much so, he remains unruffled even under the scrutiny of your coworkers.

. . .

“ this is highly unprofessional.”

“ don’t be so mean, bella. don’t you know how much i missed you?”

your eyes flit down to the man currently using your lap as a headrest, the rest of his body stretching over the expanse of the couch. he was shameless, that much was certain, but his ability to remain unperturbed whilst in his lovey dovey state was impressive. you cocked a brow, sighing.

“ osamu.” his lips visually twitched at the call of his name; it’s a word warm on your tongue but leaves the hairs on his nape at your mercy anyway. " you saw me fifteen minutes ago—”

“ twenty.” he corrected, cheeky (and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled that number out his ass). “ but it was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”

he was unrepentant as ever, experimentally positioning his head to rest on the plush on your thighs. by muscle memory, he began to absently draw shapes wherever he could reach, a crude rendition of stars decorating over the bend of your knee.

he smiles innocently when you squint at him, the gleam in his eyes unwavering. “ only a couple more minutes and i would have been yours,” you mutter out, your voice not as sturdy as you hoped. “ at home.”

dazai almost turns pouty at that. almost. “ but my love, i’ve missed you like crazy. twenty minutes is too long, how can i possibly manage?” the words come out through a breathy exhale and you watch as his lashes kiss his cheeks when he flutters them closed. “ all i could think about is you. and now i have you right here.” he hopes his words carry as much truth as the way his heart does, scurrying away the cold that's mocked him for so long. “ can’t we just stay like this a little longer? pretty please?”

resigned to your fate, you could only clamor your palms over your features— if only to salvage your waning dignity from your coworkers.

unfortunate though… that in doing so you miss the blissful smile curling on his lips as he peeks at you from below. and atsushi notes(after throughly grimacing, not expecting him to be so blunt), it reaches his eyes too.

CHŪYA

" chūya-"

" you can't flirt with me. i have a partner."

terse, stubborn and slurred. if the groggy voice wasn’t enough to confirm your suspicions, the shit-face look belonging to your boyfriend did. he was drunk. wasted if you were to speak bluntly.

in truth, it really doesn’t come off as much of a surprise; his ability to hold his liquor was nothing to brag of (despite what he may profusely argue) and you’re half-convinced he’s already forgotten his own name.

still, you don’t loosen your grip on his sleeve even under the figurative holes he’s burned with his stare. “ chūya. i am your partner.”

“you—! wha-!” his voice erupts into a sudden warble, eyes akin to saucers. " you… you are??"

he takes what’s left of his thinning rationality to study you proper; the style of your hair, your clothing, the smell of perfume/cologne, the familiar quirk of your lips—

oh, he thinks as you push back the loose bangs veiling his face. he doesn’t make any attempts to move, feet stalled and eyes blinking, evidently stunned.

you decide to press on. “ do i look familiar now…?” the lilit of your voice grazes against his ear, plucking out a faint memory tucked somewhere in the crevice of his fuzzy head.

oh. he thinks twice, the stern look bruising his face thawing.

without realizing it, he squares his shoulders in any attempt to remedy his current disheveled appearance, slumped posture pulled taut in— what he hopes— was a more put together frame. conversely, he wobbles on his feet when you continue to eat away at the distance, the ghost of your touch pushing pinpricks into his skin.

“ you’re- you’re really all mine…?” he cringes as soon as it leaves his mouth, coming off eager and hopeful. something like a laugh escapes you and he can’t tell if that’s what made his stomach turn or the alcohol. perhaps both.

“ that’s what i’ve been trying to tell you. you’re so stubborn when you’re drunk.” you punctuate the words with a kiss to his cheek, now warm with revelation. chūya, exhausting the last bits of his energy, shrinks beneath it, a gloved hand clutching his reddened face defensively.

“ why haven’t i made you my spouse yet?” he remarks it so suddenly, you nearly choke on air. he can’t even comprehend what you say thereafter or register the look beginning to contort your features, nothing but liquid courage keeping him afloat.

but- well, if there’s anything the haze trotting his head and his thinning cognition could agree on, it’s that your ring finger appears a little too barren for his liking.

( but not for much longer, he hopes )

ATSUSHI

the sudden change in atsushi’s behavior was a notable observation within the ADA, many of whom watched as the weretiger became stupefied by a face belonging to you. it wasn’t long before concluding it was all the result of a crush; the culprit of which being atsushi himself who played his hand poorly at discretion.

the lovesick chatter would leave his mouth without much rationality, waxing of "[name] this" or "[name] that," and effectively becoming on the receiving end of his praises. it was almost a routine of sorts, occupied by stutters, belated responses and his fidgety footfalls. by the end of it, he fruitlessly attempts to steady his rabbiting heart— if only to stop his blush from staining beyond his cheeks.

even now as he silhouettes by the agency door, the rattle of rain is deafened by the rush of blood to his ears. he anxiously worries the handle of the umbrella in his palms, bouncing from one sole of his feet to the other. should he just ask you? maybe he should wait… now that he thinks about it would be more appropriate to just leav—

“ damn it.” he perks at your sound of displeasure, his heart spiking. “ so much for leaving in a hurry…” you stiffen, realizing you have nothing but a coat protect you from the weather. the flimsy jacket you hurriedly plucked from your wardrobe only added flavor to your disappointment.

atsushi doesn’t miss the opportunity; his feet carries him to you before the unpleasant voice lurking deep in his subconscious bullies him otherwise. “ we can share,” he gestures to his own, silently praying his voice was leveled. it wobbles anyway and by now his knuckles are sheen white as a product of his nerves.

with the organ jumping around in his chest, he almost doesn’t register your ‘thank you,’ only that his fingers were quickly undoing the straps of the umbrella before you could change your mind ( he impulsively bought it earlier that day— his previous pair worned out and far too tiny for two people. but when you thank him with a kind smile, hands slightly brushing with each step, he argues it was the best 800 yen he’s ever spent ).

… that said, a more appropriate question is how you managed to remain naive to all his pining for so long— he’s become despairingly obvious against his own good and yet he can’t find it in himself to change himself, a perpetual lovesick look copy and pasted whenever you entered his proximity.

the same can't be said to everyone else however and he wasn’t particularly pleased when he caught wind of the bets exchanged among his treacherous colleagues. he fears it's only a matter of time before one of them blabs their tongue to you. at this rate, perhaps one of them should.

. . .

" y'know atsushi," ranpo once said, offering his companion a gleaming simper. " you reallllyyy talk about [name] a lot."

"oh.”

his heart flutters, eyes slowly blinking.

" yeah,” he smiles. “ i guess i do.”

FYODOR

" you've been awfully quiet, my dear." fyodor’s voice was just loud enough over the sound of clashing cutlery, fixing you a gaze of genuine interest. " is the meal not to your liking?"

you feel your lips twist into a frown. for being attentive, he (for once) falsely saunters pass the source of your displeasure, failing to recognize the extent of your internal woes. " no- no-" you fidget with your fingers, ignoring the way your propped elbows skidded against the table. the behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by the former, who takes it upon himself to hook his index fingers with yours. “ there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask of you. a… request of sorts.”

“ what is it? i’ll have it shipped to you by the end of the week,” he offers generously though it quickly fades into a confused hum when you shake your head at the proposition.

" it isn’t something you can buy…” you drop your gaze from him to the scantly poked portions of cuisine on your plate. fearing he may misinterpret your words and assume it to be unattainable - perhaps gifting you something ludicrous as a piece of land - you amended quickly. " it’s not what you assume to be either.”

at that, he bums questioningly. “ then what displeases you, my darling?” he provides a faint squeeze to your hand, igniting something warm and paradoxical to his thin layer of frigid skin. “ what can i offer to rid you that frown?”

" just your company.”

" my company?"

" yes." perplexed, he cocks his head; an invitation. willing an inhale to your lungs, you took a moment to gather possession of your words. “ these days you've been rather occupied. i was hoping for perhaps… if we may spend some time together?"

fyodor appears vaguely surprised by that, something unfamiliar fortifying around him. requesting his time felt like a hefty expenditure just in itself and it wasn’t too far fetched to assume he’ll disregard it in favor of some plot embellishing deep within his brain. but a swift refusal never comes.

“ i see,” he finally says after a brief pause. his voice was so soft you wondered if it was meant for you to hear.

it's grows quiet before he speaks again, the fingers curled around your hand withdrawing but not before providing the tips a delicate squeeze. " i can arrange some time tomorrow for you,” he proffers. “ will that satisfy your request, myshka?"

hardly anything can catch fyodor off guard, but something had to be said in the way you brightened at the suggestion, a deep curve coasting over your lips. how pleasant you are.

" yes," you hastily replied, dipping your head slightly. " more than perfect. thank you."

the way your lineaments crossed into a smile was always enduring to observe — exasperated, but one he wouldn’t mind seeing tomorrow knowing he was the cause for such elation.

( idly, he wonders what he can do to see it again ).

A/N !

i’ve been meaning to post this for months but it’s so old & i never quite (and still kinda don’t) liked it :(( fyodor’s is bit ooc jfjdkskla

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[crazy-fangirl2524]

My biggest flex will always be how I knew Neil was the more feral and dangerous one than Andrew this whole time even before tsc and seeing the entire fandom freaked out makes me want to kiss and hug Nora and just thank her for finally finally showing everyone and I’m not just crazy

[ahhrenata]

for @hamartia-grander ‘s fic Another Time 🧡

this scene in the epilogue got me 🙃 i love them.

[devilfic]

part four to this series

cw: 18+ mdni, mentions of blood drinking, fantasizing about biting, miguel’s got a thing for “sir”, EXTREMELY suggestive, no explicit smut just miguel losing his mind. this is the horniest one yet.. sorry!

miguel cannot get the taste of you out of his mind. it hadn’t been the part of you he’d wanted, the part of you that overwhelmed him, but it had been close. throughout the day he’d catch himself licking behind his fangs even though he’d since flushed his mouth clean of you. sometimes, he’d nick his tongue on his canine and the taste of his own blood would remind him of you again.

jessica asked about the gauze on your arm while miguel was in the room and you’d had a quick response, though not one that would spare him the knowing look from his (other) right-hand woman, “oh, miguel and I were playing too hard.”

sure enough, jessica drew’s eyes narrow behind her glasses. she even pushes them up into the crown of curls and coils on her head so her disappointment really gets across, “aren’t you a little too old to be rough-housing, miguel?”

if it were just that, miguel could confidently say it was an accident. if this had been about the cut on your eye that had healed over weeks before, there’d be honest guilt on his face when he defended himself. but no, you had asked. you’d practically put your arm in his mouth. you’d asked for him to hurt you, and you’d liked it.

and he’d liked it too. he didn’t know if he could hide that part.

before he can think of what to say, you chime in, “he’s always careful. it was my fault this time.”

“I don’t get why you two have to fight all the time. can’t you try, I dunno, healing yoga?”

miguel tried to picture himself in a downward dog pose and almost started laughing. from the flicker of mirth across your features, you seemed to be picturing the same thing. then he accidentally pictured you in that pose, pictured himself standing behind you, pictured taking your waist in his claws and crouching over you to sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too.

he digs his heels into the floor to rid himself of the image. his voice is strained as he replies, “it was their idea. can’t help that it works.”

jessica is far too exhausted with life as a new mother to try to understand that. she waves a hand, her white flag for the conversation, “whatever. I just came to borrow your assistant for the day. is that alright with you?”

lyla materializes on miguel’s shoulder, one holographic leg crossed over the other, “who, moi?”

“no thanks, tinkerbell. I need a person. preferably with some muscle.”

miguel would find that funny but all he can think to ask is, “why?” but you’re already standing up and following jessica to the doors of his office. he feels a sudden queasiness at the thought of not seeing you for the rest of the day. the day itself had just started. his morning coffee hadn’t even gone cold.

he hadn’t been left alone without you since you’d started here. now, he’d spend the whole day alone?—lyla sings a goodbye next to his ear—with just lyla?

he stands, abruptly, making his desk shake and shift a few inches. the sound is enough to stop the two of you in your tracks. your eyes bore into his own, curious, and he feels silly like the first day you’d caught him mid-tantrum. he means to sound intimidating and authoritative, but his voice can’t help the weakness when he looks at you, “I didn’t say yes.”

jessica’s hard look is almost enough to make him sit back down.

but you smile, tilt your head to the side, turn fully to him, “sorry. can I go, mr. o’hara?”

in truth, you didn’t need to ask him. but he didn’t know what else he’d expected when he objected like that. he wanted to hear it. he’d wanted to hear you ask for permission, or better yet refuse jessica altogether. he wanted you to sit back down across the desk from him and crack jokes at his expense, tease him and cackle even though he was the butt of the joke  every single time. he wanted you to offer up a mini spar session after he came back from hunting down anomalies again just to get the adrenaline out of his system. he wanted you to pin him down and win, again, so he could flip you on your back when you least expected it and he could sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too-

miguel clears his throat and sits back down, painfully aware of where his blood was flowing to now. he waved a hand, murmured something noncommittal, but you’d really put the nails in his coffin. you bowed at the waist, smug like you always were when he was watching, and said in none too innocent of a tone, “thank you, sir.” and left.

miguel watched the doors shut. his ears tuned into the sound of jessica’s voice and yours mingling down the hallway, further and further away. he waited until you two were so far out of earshot that he couldn’t tell your mumble apart from the next spider’s. and then, he croaked out lyla’s name.

“yes?” she dragged out her response, the knowing, teasing lilt to her voice was more grating on his wound nerves than usual.

“lock the doors to my office, please. and turn off the lights.” his voice was a hair above a whisper. lyla did as told and quietly. “send the… send the society a message that I won’t be in for the next two hours.”

“shall I copy miss drew, too?”

“yes.”

“and… anyone else?”

miguel rests his forehead against his fist, taking even breaths in and out. he could feel the talons beneath his skin beginning to extend. his breath shudders, “yes.”

lyla hums, “anything else, miguel?”

“take a break for the afternoon.”

he can’t see her and he doesn’t want to see her (not right now, anytime but now) but he knows her code inside out, knows she’s questioning him. “that’s a first. got some business to take care of?” his answer is but a low, embarrassed growl, and that’s enough to send her off laughing into cyberspace.

a beat passes, then two. it’s quiet all the way up here in his office without the sounds of the other spider-people or lyla or jessica or you.

thinking about you brings back those images from earlier and when he bites into his clenched fist, he feels the sharp pain of his fangs breaking skin. the pain distracts him for all of two seconds and then he’s thinking of you on top of him, holding your arm out for him to bite you, except it’s your throat this time. you’re hovering over him, the smell at your neck and the bob of your swallowing throat overwhelm him.

you’re sitting on his lap in this very chair, hands clasped at his shoulders or gripping the arm rests or tied together behind his head as you lean in, press yourself flush against him, and bare your throat to him. he’d never wanted to bite anyone that wasn’t a threat to him, never wanted to taste the warmth of their blood as it couldn’t help but trickle onto his tongue, never wanted to hear and feel the guttural moan from you as you sink down on him.

“sir”. you’d called him “sir”. mr. o’hara, you’d done that before, but never sir. a wet and wild whine leaves his throat when he remembers how your voice wrapped around it.

before he goes any further, he sucks in a breath and removes his fist from between his teeth, collecting himself enough to summon lyla once more. the AI didn’t even bother to look in his direction when she appeared on the surface of his desk, her fingers swiping at some book she’d pulled up in front of her. this next “yes?” was just as dragged out, just as knowing, just as teasing.

“three hours.” miguel’s voice cracks out. lyla fades into thin air with a single, three-fingered salute.

part five

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[pawubits]

ok guys dont freak out but. grian fanart.

I DID SAY THIS WAS AN MCYT BLOG,,,OKAY,,

(btw this is fanart for a fic called "Healing Is a Four Letter Word" made by Hypno_cat over on ao3!)