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politemenacephd · 1 year ago

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Arachnophilia: (Part Thirty)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Mig is rutting, workplace sex, fear kink, breeding kink, intercrural sex, copious sexual fluids, oral sex, tongue play, hormone scenting, unresolved sexual tension.

Word count: 11,000 Notes: IM BACK BUT ALSO THIS IS A LONG ONE LMAO IM SORRY

Mig stuck to his word as Autumn continued to roll in.

You would be his, no matter what.

The days passed and soon Nueva York was a beautiful patchwork of dull oranges and reds, with the upper city parks creating a gorgeous spread of burnt amber grass beneath the cold sun. Mig’s own universe went much the same way, with his forest home going from a bright evergreen to a spread of dark greens and slowly melting auburn shades as the trees lost their hue. You woke every day in his nest to a new blanket of leaves coating your front door, each load bigger than the last, and soon it was clear that winter was approaching.

You were getting chillier in the mornings, even with Mig’s huge, fluffy body at your side. More and more you were relegated to sleeping beneath his folded form like a baby bird beneath its watchful parent, and at a certain point the bed was so covered in silk blankets it looked almost like a mountain.

More of your stuff from your apartment made its way in too. Your clothes, your toothbrush, your kitchen utensils, your bathroom supplies.

It was a strange mismatch. The nest was rustic, with Mig’s makeshift tools and handspun tapestries, which made all of your modern appliances look out of place. There was nothing more jarring than a portable electric toothbrush sitting next to a hand-carved wooden basin over a bamboo drip, which was your version of a sink, or your phone sitting next to the firepit he used to boil water.

It was strange, yes, but welcome. It really was beginning to feel like home.

It was just that, with home, came pressure.

Time was passing, and it was passing fast. In those sweet early months with Mig it’d felt like you had all the time in the world, but the world was proving that wrong.

You had to find a solution to your universal separation, a way to prove that you and Mig could safely cohabitate forever, and potentially have a family if you desired that in the future. If you couldn’t prove it was safe, the society couldn’t sanction it any further. They couldn’t risk anything that might cause multiverse instability.

That left only two outcomes to this relationship, but in Mig’s mind, there was only one outcome he was willing to accept, and that was success. He was beyond the curious, testing phase of the relationship, the tepid exploration of lust and companionship.

He was in love. He was madly, inescapably in love with you, and he would not let you go.

This left him in a state of feverish devotion to his work, and he spent almost all his free time in Miguel’s labs working out the calculations to a cross-universe serum. At first, he tried to bring you with him, since he missed you far too much, but that ended poorly. He felt too bad making you stay up in Miguel’s office, where you’d inevitably fall asleep from exhaustion and Miguel would have to cover you in a blanket.

So instead he started doing calculations late into the night in the nest while you slept beside him. He even started doing calculations in his sleep. You’d wake to find wall after wall covered in markings you couldn’t comprehend.

The only other hiccup in his way was that he was also totally devoted to helping Micaela and Gabriel. Much of his and Miguel’s previous work had been put to the side to focus on her, using their joint background in genetics to find a cure for her ailment.

Miguel was obviously far more concerned with protecting the existing Micaela than with securing Mig’s future, and while it frustrated you both you couldn’t exactly blame him. Micaela did come first, and he was right to prioritize her, but the uncertainty in your future was becoming a strain.

Mig wanted to start living again, to hope again. He wanted to sleep beside you knowing that you were his, forever and always, and that he wasn’t a doomed abomination. He wanted to know you’d be with him until the end.

No more lonely wailing in the woods. No more singing for a person who would never come.

He wanted to live. He wanted you. He wanted his family.

But the longer their work took, the less certain it felt. Every little re-calculation felt like a punch to the gut, and every mission or postponement felt like a weight on his back.

But you can’t stay in limbo forever.

Closure had to come eventually, one way or another.

…

‘Come on, come on…’

You struggled not to impatiently tap your foot as you peered around the line ahead. You had to crane your neck to see over the 10 or so other spiders all idly waiting for their turn at the counter.

You were waiting in line at the HQ cafeteria to get lunch for you, Miguel and Mig, something you did almost every day now as an unusual little trio. The boys, as you called them, were utterly fixated on their dual projects, and while you weren’t much use scientifically you were the one little lifeline they had left to sanity and stability.

If left to their own devices they’d science themselves into husks. This left you the task of keeping them grounded, keeping them fed, and slapping them back into reality when need be.

It was slightly grating to be around two supergeniuses all the time. Mig was a sweetheart as always, and while he could be a little annoying when he talked to you like a child, he was never condescending or mean. Miguel, on the other hand, was very condescending. He had a need to explain, a need to teach, but he had the patience of a mouse and a tendency to get sassy if you ever got anything wrong.

However, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy your time with the two. Now Miguel had cooled down he really did seem to be making a difference in his attitude, especially after meeting Gabriel and Micaela. He was short-tempered and stressed, and that would probably never change, but there was an unspoken gentleness to his attitude now. It was almost, protective.

And Mig…

Your face grew warm at the thought of him. His smile. His soft-spoken compliments. His little abdomen wriggles. His big, open, honest eyes, peering down at you as they practically dripped with affection.

Your mind wandered to his breath on your neck in the morning, when he’d blow your hair aside to kiss your forehead. That warmth grew exponentially.

Mig was always perfect. Not literally, but to you… Yes. He was perfect.

‘Hey!’

You jumped in place as someone tapped your shoulder. You spun back and forth only to realize that the line had moved three spaces ahead, and you’d been too lost in your little daydream to notice. The spiders behind you did not look impressed.

‘Sorry! Shit—just a second.’

You stammered an apology and hurried forward, trying to ignore the curious stares you get. The morbid interest in Mig’s lover never seemed to go away.

You stayed hyper-vigilant as you waited to finally reach the front of the cafeteria. You’d replayed asking for your order so many times that it practically tumbled from your lips when you reached the server, making you appear like some kind of empanada-loving robot.

As you made your way back to the office you couldn’t help but pause to admire the new décor.

The whole building was covered in dainty, slightly tacky Halloween objects, coating the walls from top to bottom. It was all in place for the Halloween party tomorrow. There were skrunkly little paper spiders hanging from the high beams, orange cut-outs of cats and pumpkins plastered to the wall.

It was almost painfully twee, but you kind of loved it. It felt authentically true to form for this place. You also knew Miguel had refused to spend any more than the absolute bare minimum on decorations out of spite, since he hated the idea of doing this in the first place. Hosting events and being considerate of members' well-being was one thing, but being drawn out of work to wear costumes was, ironically, not his forte.

Unfortunately, despite being the de-facto leader, he’d been outvoted by the other elites, along with every other Spider in the society. You’d been subjected to his rambling about this for almost a week. Luckily, he didn’t know you’d also voted to have the party.

You prodded a little cheap plastic bat that was hanging from the ceiling as you hopped from the beams into the main corridor before Miguel’s office.

You were quick as you hurried down the same familiar route; passed the Spiders crowding the hall, passed the rudimentary go-home machine, and down the darkened empty corridor filled with Miguel’s old suits and gadgets.

As you approached the door you were hit by the smell of metal and the low hum of a machine. It vibrated through your bones in the most eerie way, causing the walls around you to jitter as if moving.

You instinctively slowed down.

Shit, they were in the middle of running their experiments again.

You crept up to the entrance to Miguel’s office and carefully nudged the door aside, being careful not to dip in any further. You didn’t want to startle them.

‘Pressure at 53%’

Lyla’s voice floated out from beneath the eerie hum as you peeked around the doorway. The office was usually dark, awash with cold navy light and the dull orange glow of Miguel’s monitors, but right now it was alight with an almost supernatural glow emanating from its center. It cast odd shadows across the walls and floors, like hands sneaking up to grasp you.

‘Lyla! Speed it up.’

‘Pressure at 73%. I’m going as fast as I can!’

That was Miguel’s voice, you thought. It was nearly identical to Mig’s but you knew them both well enough now to pick them apart. You peered a little further into the room.

‘Qué chingada… Come on.’

Mig hissed a few more curses under his breath as his abdomen rustled.

He’d bent his front legs like a horse so he could grasp the computer with both hands, and he was right on the verge of physically shaking it. Every

He was so close, so damn close. He’d gotten the formula down to a predicted 3% success rate, and if he could just get a few more test runs in, he’d have it. He’d have you.

‘Alright! Are you ready?’

Miguel called down to Mig from his floating office. He had to about halfway in the air, allowing him to look down on Mig as he ran some sort of experiment.

You could see the enormous table they were always huddled around, covered in glass jars and holographic screens all flashing with a million numbers at once. As you sank against the door frame, you noticed that the crackling was getting louder.

‘Pressure at 89%. Almost there.’

You could see something starting to spin on the table, creating a whirring noise akin to a helicopter’s blades. The sound was triggering every instinct in your body to run, to hide, and you had to fight yourself just to continue watching.

‘Hold it steady!’

‘I’m holding steady.’

The light expanded until you were forced to squint and pull away, hiding yourself behind the door. The sound was unbearably loud, the whirring grating on your ears as the light grew brighter and brighter.

‘Pressure at 98%...’

‘99%’

‘100%!’

And then—

A crackle filled the room and the light dimmed in a single split second, leaving the room in darkness. You had to wipe your eyes to adjust to the dimness. Everything smelled like hot metal, and you could see smoke drifting up into the rafters of the office.

‘Serum stability at 99%’ Lyla’s voice called out, followed by a sharp bark of a growl.

‘ARGH!’

Mig pulled back and kicked one of the loose chairs right into the wall, almost totally obliterating it with the faintest display of aggression. ‘¡Jueputa! Chingada Madre!’

As the low whirring of the machine dulled, he began to pace, his spider legs scuttling back and forth. His abdomen was shaking dangerously, that much you could see. He had his head in his hands and seemed to be trying his hardest to not lose his temper any further.

You felt your heart sink a little in your chest at the sight.

Miguel was cursing beneath his breath as he put out the fire. ‘God damn it… Lyla, what keeps going wrong?!’

‘It’s just routine checks, Miguel. It’s totally normal.’

‘We’ve been stuck at 99% for a week!’ Miguel barked back, ignoring Lyla’s slightly snarky tone.

‘99% is good! That’s better odds than your watch had when you tried it out’ she argued back. You could faintly see her hologram floating in the air beside them, pacing back and forth across the open air. Miguel bitterly waved his hand through her digital form.

‘Yeah, and I was stupid to do so. I can’t approve it until it's 100%.’

‘Maybe the calculations are off’ Mig murmured to himself. You saw him drop back down to the computer again, grasping at its mass like it was a person who he could shake sense into.

‘My calculations aren’t off!’ Miguel snapped back in a slightly harsher tone. ‘I know what I’m doing!’

You could see the tension rising. They’d just keep getting more and more irritable if they remained fixated on their work. You decided now was the time to step in.

With a huff you pushed the office door aside and bellowed towards them. ‘Hey! Come on guys, break time!’

The sound of you voice drew Mig to snap and turn, a motion so inhumanly fast he nearly wrenched the entire computer apart from with his hands. Miguel had to step in and shove him off just to salvage it.

‘¡Tonto! Ah, ten cuidado’ Miguel snapped under his breath, though Mig heard none of it. He didn’t even respond when Miguel elbowed him away.

He was fixed on you, watching you run down the corridor towards him. The way you smiled, the way you bounced as you sped up. He couldn’t stop his abdomen rustling and vibrating with a deep, profound sense of joy. Miguel noticed that too and promptly rolled his eyes.

‘Miggy!’

You squeaked and jumped up into his arms, with the enormous spider catching you with instinctive prowess. He drew you up to his chest and held you like a large cat.

‘Mi tesoro’ he purred. ‘I missed you.’

‘They were gone for 15 minutes’ Miguel sarcastically replied.

‘I know’ Mig replied, his big crimson eyes still fixed on you. He kept tilting his head to get a better angle of your face, deliberately staring until you got flustered and tried to look away. You could feel him nosing at your hands as you covered yourself. Your quiet giggling was almost addictive to him.

‘It was still too long…’ Mig whispered against your fingers. ‘Too long…’

‘Still too long— Alright! Come on, computers finished that round. We can break.’ Miguel grunted and pushed the computer aside as he stood, his hands outstretched. ‘Can I eat, then? Or did you forget about me?’

You pulled back your hands and peered down at Miguel. ‘Forget? What? I wouldn’t forget about you.’

‘Ahuh. What about—’

‘Oh my god—I forgot your lunch order ONE time!’ you cried, cutting him off before he could bring up the same story he always brought up. Despite himself, Miguel’s lips did tilt into a slight smile.

‘Exactly. Once. And you could do it again’ he replied in a slightly snarkier tone. You huffed and threw his box of empanadas at his chest, which he caught mid-air with his webs.

‘You went—you were on a mission twice—’

‘Ahuh, ahuh—’

‘So, I had to remember to NOT get your order—’

‘Yep, keep digging that grave—’

‘I had to remember to NOT get your order the second time, because you sent that memo saying it was wasteful to leave your food, and then the third time you didn’t DIRECTLY tell me you wouldn’t be on a mission, so I didn’t have it there! I am not in the wrong!’

You burnt your throat out while rambling off your excuse. Miguel just kept trying to hide his growing smile of endearment as he webbed his way up to his floating desk, leaving you and Mig to sit beneath him.

‘It’s not my job to babysit you. If you can’t check the schedule that’s something for you to fix, not me. Consider it… character building’ Miguel replied smoothly.

‘Next time I won’t get it deliberately’ you huffed, before reaching into the bag and giving Mig his order. He purred as he took it. ‘At least you’re grateful, Miggy’ you mumbled, which caused him to purr even louder.

‘Always, arañita.’

As Mig folded his legs and settled down on the floor you sat at the front of his abdomen, snuggling into his fur with your meal resting on your folded legs. You could hear Miguel grunting with barely suppressed pleasure as he started eating above you.

Mig paused then as his watch buzzed. He glanced down and awkwardly tapped it at with his huge claws until he finally got it to recognize his touch.

‘Mm? It is—Oh!’

Mig’s face lit up into a smile as a hologram flashed up from his watch, revealing a line of text and a blurry picture. You tilted your head out of curiosity.

‘Hm? What's up?’

‘It’s ah- Gabriel. I’ve been re-learning how to text so that we may, converse, more easily, and he has sent me a picture of Micaela.’ Mig sounded so proud as he spoke, and his eyes as they flitted over the picture were deeply endeared. It filled you with joy to see him looking so comfortable.

‘Oh! That’s nice, that’s good. I’m glad you’re properly keeping in touch now. What’d he say?’

‘Mm! Well, last night he was telling me about how bad the hospital food is. I offered to send him some of my deer meat, which he seemed to find humorous, and today he has sent me a picture of his mates cooking and—’

‘They don’t use mate, Mig, that’s his wife’ Miguel added.

‘Wife. Yes. I forget… Ah, his mate- wife¸ gave him food to sneak into the hospital, and he has sent me a picture of him eating it with Micaelita.’

He glanced at the photo for the second time as he spoke, and the sight caused him to purr all over again. He’d only known his baby niece for a few months now, but he truly loved that little girl. He had an outlet at last for all his pent-up paternal instinct, and seeing her happy brought him so much joy.

‘How is the um- I mean I guess, sensitive subject to bring up, but… How is the serum going?’ you asked.

‘Well, Micaela’s stuff is almost fully done’ Miguel replied. Mig was too busy trying to catch an unseemly long bit of cheese now dangling between his mouth and his empanada to speak, so his variant took over with a slightly exasperated sigh.

‘Luckily, we buckled down and, Lyla did a lot of the work. Scanning the multiverse for somewhere with more advanced medicine was pretty easy, unfortunately the place we found with the right equipment does not have a Spider-man in it for easy contact.’

‘Did you need to go there to get it, though?’ you asked. You were trying to listen while also teasingly nipping in to steal from Mig’s string of cheese, something he found both adorable and aggravating.

‘Luckily again for us, uh—no. Not really. We scanned a few computers and managed to replicate it here’ Miguel explained. ‘Micaela should be just fine.’

‘Yes! But, it means we’re behind on the solution for us’ Mig said as he finally swallowed his food. ‘Which, we are trying to resolve, right?’

‘Jess is getting antsy’ Miguel remarked, more to himself than to you or Mig. He was picking at his own empanada bit by bit, taking off little chunks which he then threw into his mouth and slowly chewed between his fangs. He chewed his food like nicotine gum, as if he was in constant deep thought. ‘Everyone is. Especially with the anomalies getting worse.’

‘I mean… that’s not, our fault, right?’ you said.

Miguel didn’t reply for a moment. He stared into the distance before double-taking at you, almost as if taken by surprise. ‘What? No. No, it’s your fault. It’s… we’re not sure. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But, it’s not you.’

‘Oh… Good.’ You weren’t sure you believed him, but you also weren’t willing to press the issue. ‘But, um—I mean regardless it’ll be okay, right? We’re, getting close?’

To your relief, Miguel did nod as he swallowed his last bite of empanada. ‘Mhm. Mm… Yeah. I think it should be finished soon, if we can just complete the last checks.’

‘Checks?’

‘The stabilization test-runs’ Mig said. He’d finally finished his meal as was now paying very close attention to you, ensuring you continued to eat in between asking questions. He’d grab or gently nudge your hand up to your face to ensure you took bites. He was fussy, yes, but very sweet.

‘De-stabilization, huh? Sounds scary’ you added between quick bites of your sandwich.

‘Catastrophic’ Miguel corrected.

‘Not—necessarily’ Mig said as he wiped crumbs from your face. ‘All it means, is that we need to ensure the serum won’t de-stabilize and cause any anomalous activities or holes when used. We’re delicately re-organizing multiverse DNA, but, we are handling it with utmost care.’

‘You don’t need to convince me, Miggy, I believe you’ you snorted back.

Mig opened his mouth to speak again when a low beep drew his attention away. It was Miguel’s watch, most likely a message, and whatever it was had turned his contented expression into a deeply sour one.

‘Ah… Mierda. So stupid.’

He cursed beneath his breath as he dropped from his office back down to the floor, landing with a dull thud.

‘What’s up?’ you called over.

‘It’s Jess. It’s this Halloween party, ah—I didn’t even vote for it! But I’m the leader, apparently, of course I only become leader when it suits them—’

You paused Miguel mid-rant by snapping your fingers. ‘Miguel! Come on, to the point. You’re rambling.’

‘Ay, don’t be rude. What I meant to say, then, is apparently I have to go approve these new decorations. I’ll be back soon, we’ll finish the second test run when I’m done.’

Miguel had begun walking before you could even think to say anything else, so you and Mig just resorted to waving him off with a soft ‘bye!’. He shot you a deflated thumbs up over his shoulder before vanishing out the door.

Silence fell in the wake of his departure, and for the first time you were alone with Miguel. All you could hear in the office was Mig’s thudding heart and his slow, rhythmic breathing against your scalp.

‘Arañita?’

You blinked and leaned back against his abdomen until his face came into view. His eyes were wide, and as they watched you awkwardly blowing his fluff out of your eyes, they dilated. ‘I didn’t get to mention, this morning…’ He paused and swallowed. ‘You look, radiant today, mi amor. You look very, pretty.’

The second those words left his mouth you broke out into a dumb little smile. You tried to look away, but Mig was quick to catch your chin with his claw, forcing you to hold his gaze. His eyes softened.

‘No, no. Don’t deny it. I know you want to.’

‘Miggy…’

‘That is not to say that you don’t always look pleasing. You do. But I wanted to tell you today. I feel I don’t tell you enough.’

‘You make it more than clear how you feel about me, Mig’ you whispered back. His fur was warm and sweet on your cheek, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into it. ‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘Mm… But I will, mi amor’ he whispered back. God, he loved saying that. He’d say it all day every day if given half the chance. ‘Mi amor, you are such a beautiful creature. I am grateful every second of every day that I have you as my mate.’

You felt the heat in your cheeks growing in tandem with the lightness in your chest. You squealed internally as he smiled down at you, his face filled with open, honest sincerity. ‘Yeah, well… I could say the same about you too, so… you know’ you murmured. His eyes narrowed with barely suppressed joy.

‘Do I know?’

‘You… Yes, but—Okay. You are also, a beautiful creature, and I am extremely grateful every millisecond of every day that I met you’ you replied with a teasing jab. He chuckled, and when you chuckled back, he bent his torso down to meet your own.

‘I missed you’ Mig whispered. You could feel him nosing at your hair as he spoke, taking deep and lingering breaths around the crown of your head.

‘I missed you too, Mig’ you whispered back. The warmth of his fur was nice on your back as you leaned into him, relishing the small moment of peace and quiet. You could hear nothing but a distant beep of some nebulous electronics and the soft, deep breaths Mig was savoring above you. You could tell he was huffing your scent.

‘You, uh… you sure are smelling me a lot, lately’ you said. The break in silence and the bluntness of the question caused Mig’s eyes to shoot open.

‘… I am?’

‘Mhm.’

‘As in, more than usual?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Oh, I—I’m sorry, arañita—’

‘No! No, don’t apologize. I didn’t mean it was an issue. I just…’

You slowly rolled your head back to catch his gaze, only to wind up nose to nose with him. You felt his breath on your lips as you both locked eyes. The warmth, the proximity, it made something familiar in your gut tighten and twist.

Mig purred. ‘Then, how did you mean it, arañita?’ he whispered.

You felt that sweet tightness in your gut twisting tighter, and without even thinking your thighs squished together. Mig’s eyes darted down, catching that tiny act, before sliding back up and narrowing ever so slightly. He let you catch his tongue slipping out to slide along his lower lip.

‘I meant, ah… I meant, I just, noticed it. It—it’s usually a sign that, something else is going on, you know?’ you stammered back.

‘I know what you’re referring to, mi arañita’ he murmured back. ‘Are you implying I might be heading into a rut?’

‘Well… I wouldn’t, dare, assume, but…’

You felt your breath starting to catch as your heart rate sped up, matching the steady rhythm of his own thundering beat. You could see his eyelids drooping, his abdomen gently jerking back and forth like a dog wagging its tail.

The growing heat was physically palpable. It was like the sun on your skin, itchy and hot. ‘We’re in the office’ you whispered softly. You’d both drifted so close now that you could feel his lips on your own. Mig was panting, breathing in you, verging right on the edge of snapping you up and eating you whole.

‘Yes…’

‘Mig… W-We’re in the HQ, we—’

‘We’re in the office…’

Mig pressed one sweet, tender kiss against your lower lip, but he lingered just long enough to let you know that, if he could, he’d have bitten down on that lip in a second. You stammered out a shaky whine in response.

‘Mig, we can’t.’

‘Do you want to go back to the nest?’

‘What if Miguel comes back? We need to—finish the, stupid work—’

‘Then here.’

‘Mig—’

You paused your soft whispering to kiss for the second time. It was almost reflexive, with your lips losing focus and going against your better judgement to press up against his. You’d kiss once and then pause, as you both brushed against the realm of better judgement for a fleeting second, only to kiss each other once more.

Soft then hard, lingering and passionate, tasting him for just a second until it got too painful to not kiss him again.

‘Mm—Mig, mm—’

‘Arañita…’

You felt his tongue slip out and obediently parted your lips, letting your tongues wind between your barely open mouths. You could taste his breath, you could feel the heat brewing in him as he tried to slip into your open maw. At this point your skin was burning, and worst of all, you could feel your clit throbbing like a second heartbeat.

You were a shivering, burning mess. You’d gone too far.

‘Miggy— Mm… Miggy, come on—’

‘Arañita…’

‘If, Miguel comes back—’

As you withdrew from the kiss Mig moved closer, gripping your waist with his thick, heavy claws so you couldn’t pull away. He didn’t kiss you, but he did press his lips to your nose, and there he spoke again.

‘Don’t make me chase you, arañita.’

Those sweet, husky words whispering against your skin made you shudder. It was enough to make your insides clench and quiver, and Mig knew it.

‘F-Fuck, god damn it… hah… mm. Okay. You wanna play like that?’

You stealthily shifted your suit down by just the pants, taking your underwear with it. Not enough to be naked, but enough to get Mig hooked in the sweet scent you knew would drive him crazy. Just as planned, the moment your underwear went past that navel line, his pupils dilated.

‘Mm… arañita… You smell, delicious…’

He lowered his head with a speed and strength you knew you couldn’t match, but he did relinquish his grip on your waist to do so. You let him bury his nose between your thighs, slipping right into the little defined curve where your suit met your pussy lips, and he huffed like a madman.

‘Mmm… qué rico, mi arañita hermoso/a…’

He whined the words directly against your clothed cunt, letting you feel his lips and tongue moving against every ridge and inch he could get. You were sure that if you let him linger any longer he’d rip the fabric with his fangs and have himself a little dessert, and while part of you desperately wanted to let him, that wasn’t the plan.

You grabbed his hair and pulled, letting him get as pussy drunk as you could allow without fully tipping him over the edge.

‘Good boy, good, good boy…’

You held him there just long enough, until his spider legs were tapping that familiar mating rhythm and his abdomen was shaking with feverish intent, and then—

‘Catch me, big boy.’

You whispered those words before webbing yourself out of his grip, flying over his abdomen and landing squarely on the office floor behind him. You saw his claws grasping to try and catch you, but he was too late. You’d escaped.

He spun around just in time to see you hurrying into the dark corners of Miguel’s office. He hungrily growled. ‘Oh, arañita… Okay. We’ll play that game then.’ He licked the little traces of your scent from his upper lip, and he gave chase.

You webbed your way into the darkness and crouched down behind a pile of forgotten electronics, moving stealthily on four legs to avoid being seen. You could faintly see Miguel’s shadow as he moved through the office and toward your location. As he abandoned the light his eyes began to glow, illuminating the shape of his spindly legs with an eerie red outline.

‘Mi tesoro?’

The adrenaline was thick. You knew that it was just your sweet, gentle Mig roaming after you, but that didn’t stop the sweet, controlled dose of fear that you got whenever you played hide and seek with that enormous, skulking spider.

‘Naughty arañita… You like playing at this, don’t you?’

Mig purred softly as he crept around the edge of the lab. His paws were quiet underfoot, carefully padded to keep even his enormous body nearly entirely silent.

‘You like playing at being prey… So cute. You know what’ll happen when I catch you… Does that excite you, arañita? That I will rip those pretty clothes off and mate with you the moment you’re in my paws? Are you thinking about it right now?’

The echo of his voice drove you lower to the floor. You could hear him getting closer, but your cover was running out, and if you raised your head he’d surely see you and pounce. You didn’t want the fun to be over that quickly.

You began to back up instead, shifting along the wall until you found an opening. It felt like a door of some kind, and as you carefully, carefully creaked it open, you realized that you’d found an old, unused closet in the back of Miguel’s space.

‘Arañita…’

Miguel’s hungry, husky groan filled the air, alongside an animalistic rustling. It sounded like a rug being shaken out, or a rattlesnake, but you knew better. That was his abdomen prepping for his mating ritual.

You subdued your own shiver of excitement and slipped into the closet.

In here it was pitch black. You could feel the dust on the floor, betraying just how old this space was, and the trickle of light peaking in through the door wasn’t enough to go more than an inch into the closet’s depths.

You were forced to blindly shuffle until your hands hit a wall, forcing you to turn and shuffle backward until you met the same fate. Eventually, you stopped moving altogether, realizing that it was pointless, and resigned yourself to cowering in the dark like a rabbit.

You couldn’t hear Mig in here. Either that, or he’d stopped taunting completely.

It was terrifying how quiet he was. For something so big his soft paws muffled any sound he might have made, allowing him to move with little to no noise. He was a real predator, a creature at the top of his theoretical food chain, and you often forgot that yourself.

In the dark you waited, listening to your own heart hammering in your chest. You could feel the cold creeping up on you in here, giving you goosebumps on your arms. You felt the strain of the concrete floor on your knees.

But that wasn’t all you felt.

A heavy, overwhelming presence had abruptly settled against your back, and now something hot, warm and wet was sliding up your nape to the base of your skull. Instinctively your body tensed, but then you felt it again, and in a second that primal fear disappeared.

It was Mig’s tongue. He was licking your nape, tasting your scent with your highly adapted senses. He’d move in shyly, lapping once or twice, before nuzzling his nose into the thick of your hair and starting the cycle all over again.

‘I caught you, arañita.’

Your body began to relax. You felt his claws fondling your chest and rear in the darkness, squeezing your ass until his claws left a little imprint. His lips, too continued to grope at your nape, licking and nipping the skin until it bruised.

‘You know what that means.’

You let out a low groan. Between the fear, the heat, and now the dark, cramped space you’d been trapped in, there was no turning back now.

‘Mm… O-Okay, you win. Just… just a little…’

It took very little convincing for you to turn around and smash your lip into his. This time you didn’t hesitate before opening your mouth for him to explore, letting his huge, warm tongue slide into your mouth. He wound his tongue around your own, tasting your scent, your moans, everything he could get.

‘Mm… arañita…’

His hands began creeping up and down your body, squishing lightly at your belly and waist. He loved feeling the way your flesh moved beneath his fingers, how frail your ribs felt under his claws. He deepened the kiss.

‘Mm…’

You could feel that Mig was already getting erect. In the pitch black you could only rely on touch to sense any changes, and you could feel his soft phallus slowly beginning to peek out from the slit in his abdomen. It was twitching against your belly.

The kissing just barely muffled your sounds as you tried to speak. ‘Mm… Mm.. I-I can’t, get fully naked, but—’

‘Why not?’

‘Mmm—’

With a soft moan you broke the kiss, leaving the two of you panting into each other’s mouths. ‘I need to- be able to re-suit quickly if anyone comes in, you beautiful idiot.’

Without another word you shifted your suit pants down to the middle of your thighs, leaving just enough bare room for Miguel to slip himself between your legs. His eyes dilated at the sight.

‘Oh… r-right. Hah. Right…’ Mig purred as he grabbed your body and spun it around, bracing you in a slightly tilted position. He braced himself with his hands on either side of the closet walls, and with the bare minimum delicacy he could muster, he began to buck himself in.

‘C-Careful… just, s-stay still. I’ll be quick.’

He started thrusting, shifting his cock in the darkness as he searched for his prize. You felt that bulbous tip nudged at your back, then your ass, before slowly making its way down to the warm, sweet space beneath.

You bit your lip and braced yourself, internally prepping for the pressure. He paused, angled, and thrust.

However, he missed.

‘Ah! F-Fuck—’

In his haste, he slid right past your cunt. His cock was so big that it slid right between your thighs, settling between your pussy lips with a full handful of member poking out the other side. It almost made you dizzy, remembering that you so frequently let such a beast of a shaft inside you.

Mig groaned at your back and began slowly humping at your clenched thighs, shifting his plush phallus back and forth.

‘Mm… S-So, warm…’

You were quickly coated in thick, sticky pre-cum and your own slick as he began to thrust faster and faster, riding out his frustration. He was too eager to even stop and try to enter you properly. This would have to do.

With one hand over your mouth and the other bracing your body to the wall, you let Miguel rut his cock between your thighs, eagerly fucking them and your clit raw.

There was only one thought in your heads:

More. More…

You coyly grabbed the little bit of shaft slipping out the other side of your thighs and began to manually pump it with your fist, relishing in the warmth and the slipperiness against your palm.

‘A-Ah, arañita…’

Mig moaned your nickname into your hair as he continued rutting against your back, the double stimulation driving him absolutely mad. You were beside yourself as he continued grinding that soft, plush, velvety shaft up against your clit, using your slick as lubricant to slide a little easier.

MORE. MORE.

You bent forward and down, contorting yourself so that you could hungrily lap at your member. Mig barely stifled his predatory groans.

‘A-Arañita, ah—c-careful—!’

You slurped at his member until you could just about get a little of it between your lips, and while he continued furiously pumping between your thighs you began sucking on the tip. It was weirdly sweet, as always, though not in a sickly way. It was thick and slightly earthy, like raw, natural honey, and it soon coated your tongue in that sticky white fluid.

Mig, at this point, was losing his mind. He dug his claws into your hips to hold you steady as he began bucking without rhythm, driving himself into every crevice of your body he could.

‘Hah- o-okay, good arañita. G-Good. That’s it, lick it up.’

You allowed him to thrust between your parted lips and groaned. Mig was left breathlessly humping, with one hand still dug into your side and the other tenderly petting your hip as he rode out his frustrations into your mouth and between your legs.

‘Good, there you go. There you go. Mm… Así así, arañita, estás haciendo un buen trabajo.’

His sweet praise helped to ease the pain in your jaw as you took more of him in. The plush, squishiness of his cock made it easier to mouth and suck, but there was just so much of it. You were choking on the tip.

Luckily, Mig could only handle so much. He was utterly overstimulated, between the beautiful sensation of your lips and tongue on his member and the warmth and wetness of your thighs, topped off with the sight of you bent over and taking him from all angles—

‘Ah! Bájale, bájale, arañita.’

He pulled back and began patting your hip for clemency as your lips nearly drew him to a violent impromptu orgasm. You gasped as he withdrew. You were panting hard, slightly dazed from the pleasure and the blood rush to the head, your lips now a mess of saliva and pre-cum. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel the little trail of fluid hanging between your lips and Miguel’s twitching member.

‘Ah… h-huh?’ you mumbled. ‘W-What?’

Mig had to tilt you back to an upright position himself, and there he hugged you close while still slowly pumping between your thighs.

‘Shh, that’s it arañita. You did so good. Just rest now, treasure, let me do the work.’

‘Mm… But—’

‘Let me do the work.’

He repeated those words in a sweet, cooing manner, drawing you to relax in his grip. It was easy to give in, especially with his shaft still gently massaging your swollen clit.

He wanted to focus on you now.

He drew back and began carefully thrusting at just the right angle, probing his hot and now very wet member was pressed right up to your clit. The sensation was hard to describe. All you knew is that you weren’t going to last long like this.

‘Ah… M-Mig, fuck…’

He kept you stabilized with his arms, allowing you to focus on just the pleasure of his movement.

‘You smell so good’ he moaned directly into your ear. ‘So good, arañita. I’d eat you up if I could. My beautiful, beautiful little spider. So—f-fucking, soft—’

He groaned out loud as he started to speed up, frantically squishing and grinding every inch of his cock between your lips. You could hear the manic, wet squelching of your own slick being papped back and forth by his movements, a soft ‘thwap’ that was getting louder and louder.

‘M-Mig—’

‘Mm, so soft, want you—covered in seed—’

‘Mig!’

‘Stuffed, s-stuffed with it. Stuff with my cum. Pretty little spider, full of my babies, full of my e-eggs—’

You tried to warn him, but Mig was too wrapped up in his own manic, heat-induced fantasy to notice. He was dizzy with the thought of web-knotting you, imagining his cock sliding right up to your cervix and then being webbed into place so none of his seed would spill. He was imagining you swollen with his offspring and resting in his silk den, his perfect little mate for life, fulfilling all of his desires.

You had no chance of stopping him, so you did the only thing you could do: you shuddered and orgasmed all over his shaft.

It was your barely muffled scream of pleasure that finally jolted him back to reality, and back to the gorgeous sight of your body trembling and spasming as it throbbed all over his member. He audibly gasped and twitched, letting his cock throb right back as he milked you for all the slick you would offer.

When your knees began to shake, he held you in place. Your weight was nothing to him. No matter what you weighed, with his size, he could have carried you like a kitten.

‘Mi amor’ he cooed into your hair. ‘Mi amor, mi amor… So beautiful. What a beautiful sight.’

‘Hah… f-fuck, uh… I-I can, barely feel my legs’ you panted back.

‘Shh. I’m here. You did so good, arañita.’

‘I-I didn’t, do anything, mi amor, I just… came’ you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

‘You did more than enough’ Mig purred sweetly. He took the chance to slide two fingers down between your lips and around your clit, letting your slick accumulate on his claws. Your body jerked at the sudden rush of stimulation.

‘Ah—’

‘More than enough. I’d pay to watch you do that again.’ Mig kissed your forehead as he slid his fingers back up and pressed them to his lips. You heard him licking them clean.

‘But I’ll take my payment another way, I think.’

You let out a shaky groan as he moved your body back into position. He was lining himself up again, and this time, he wasn’t going to miss.

You could feel his thick member pulsing at your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin before its final penetration. He’d rock himself a few times, shifting just an inch in before pulling back out, just enough to make that sweet squelching pop ring out. He could picture it now: the sweet feeling of your cunt enveloping every inch of him, welcoming him in, squeezing the life out of him as you moaned his name.

His name. His mate. His.

‘That’s it, arañita, are you ready for me?’

‘Y-Yes, yes—fuck, please Mig—’

‘You want it?’

He bucked closer, preparing to push in. You cried out.

‘Yes, fuck, please!’

‘You want it?’

‘Yes!’

‘You want—’

‘Hey! Mig?’

Miguel’s voice echoing through the halls drew you both to an abrupt and awkward halt. God damn it.

Mig tried to force himself to push through it, with the animal half of his brain wanting to just ignore the call of his variant, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He slowly rocked to a stop and, with great reluctance, yanked his cock out from between your thighs.

‘Ah, my mistake… We got carried away again, didn’t we? Come here, mi amor. Let’s calm you down.’

He whispered those soft words into your hair as he yanked your body up and into his arms. He began applying as much desperate aftercare as he could; stroking your hair, kissing your neck and cheeks, stroking over and gently rubbing your muscles until the weakness in them subsided.

He held you with the utmost care while you struggled to recover from your orgasm. It was a big ask to compartmentalize all of the sweet arousal you’d just barely tasted.

‘Mig, you… b-but you didn’t fini—’

‘I’ll be fine, arañita’ Mig whispered. He was already carefully concealing his erection, letting it subside back into the little slot in which it was usually hidden. He was sweating from the strain, yes, but he had some control.

‘Mig, the rut—’

‘I have your slick covering my phallus with your scent’ he very bluntly murmured into the curve of your ear, causing you to shiver. ‘I wreak of you, arañita. That is enough for me right now. At least… It will tide me over, until I can get you home properly.’

You managed a small, slightly breathy giggle. ‘And then I’ll be your little cum dumpster, huh?’ you teased back. Mig purred.

‘You will be a good mate’ he whispered, ‘and you will do your duty by me, I’m sure.’

‘And that duty is?’

He leaned closer, gently nipping your earlobe. ‘Being, as you so brazenly put it, my little cum dumpster.’

You may have given in and fucked him right there in the closet space if Miguel hadn’t called out once more, drawing you back to the present.

‘Hey! Mig?’

You both gave a slightly similar sigh. You knew this was your own doing, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Miguel. You just couldn’t wait for this stupid serum to be done.

‘Alright, come on. Let’s go get back to work’ you whispered. Without another word you began frantically pulling your suit back into place, and once you were both relatively dressed and presentable you silently crept back out into the main officer together.

‘Mig?! Ay! Are you—Oh. Oh… ¡Ey, que la chingada!’

Miguel raised both hands to his face as you both sheepishly appeared from behind the loose paneling. He didn’t need to ask what you were doing.

‘In my office!’ he snapped. ‘My office— Dios Mio… It’s going to smell, in here, for- hours, if not days!’

‘No, it’s not’ you called back as you hurried over. ‘Calm down.’

‘DON’T—Don’t, tell me to calm down, YOU did this!’ he seethed.

‘We’re—it’s, stressful, with the heat, and- we are very sorry, I swear’ you hissed as you finally caught up to him. Mig remained sheepishly stone-faced at your back.

‘I’m stressed too!’ Miguel replied just as sharply. ‘¿Y que hay de mi? Eh? Nobodies around to relieve my stress, but you don’t see me complaining!’

You and Mig both blinked and glanced at each other before turning back to Miguel in near unison, all while he continued to heave his chest in righteous indignation. You allowed the silence to continue just long enough to make his eyes dart a little.

‘… What? Why are you staring at me like that?’ he hissed.

‘… I mean, are you asking to be involved?’ you replied bluntly. You just barely managed to suppress the urge to giggle as he blanked. The way his eyes widened, the way his lips drew back to flash his fangs in a mixture of intrigue, disgust and confusion. You knew your response would create that exact reaction, but it was funnier to fix him with a neutral expression as he scoffed.

‘You- no!’ he snapped back. ‘No, I wasn’t- no! No!’

‘Are you sure?’ you asked. As you spoke you coyly leaned forward, noting the way his eyes darted over your body. He was forced to physically turn his back on you to avoid being accused of anything unseemly.

‘Tienes una mente bien cochambrosa’ he grumbled under his breath. ‘Look, whatever traits me and him might share, there is one big goddamn difference, and that’s that I’m not a massive pervert.’

‘Aw, but you’re stressed, like you said! Come on, lemme help.’ You continued your teasing as you took a few steps closer. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your little tiptoe motion, and like a frightened deer he stumbled away.

‘What- no!’

‘Yeah, come on! I’ll help you out’ you cooed, your hands stretching out to grab him. He took another step back.

‘What are you- has the heat melted your brain or something?’

Miguel was getting more and more heated as you crept towards him, his irritation betraying the little auburn glow in his eyes and cheeks. Your eyes crinkled with joy; you could practically smell his inner thoughts, and he could definitely smell you.

‘Come ‘ere, Miggy’ you cooed again.

‘No! I will- I will subdue you! I’m warning you!’ he hissed, which only made you giggle more. You continued forward, and with each step you took Miguel scurried in the opposite direction. It was almost absurd to see that enormous, terrifying hybrid of a man fleeing from you in circles around his office, like a kitten chasing a guard dog.

‘I’m serious! If you don’t stop—’

‘Come on, come here!’

‘YOU- Hey, pendejo! Control your- mate!’

Miguel made a desperate plea to Mig as you both sped around his body, but Mig was enjoying himself at this point. ‘They are correct. You did say you were stressed’ he purred back, which caused Miguel to sneer at him.

‘MIG!’

With a grunt of exasperation Miguel sank his claws into the wall and began frantically climbing, forgetting that you could use your webs to follow. You pursued him up into the rafters and back down again, all while Mig watched with a smile on his face and his hands clasped in his lap.

You knew Miguel could have genuinely ended the chase immediately. He could have used a light cage, a web, anything really, but he didn’t. He let you chase him until you were exhausted, too tired to even finish swinging from the web you’d slung, and only then did he grab you by the nape and carry you back down himself.

He handed you over to Miguel like a stray cat, unceremoniously dumping you into his lap.

‘You are both a strain on my existence, and if I could I would have you both exiled to a barren universe where nobody would ever hear from you again’ he said in a totally deadpan voice, which only drove you into another fit of breathless giggling. Mig, too, chuckled a little in response.

‘No, come on. You love us’ you cooed back.

‘I hate you both. Sincerely. With absolute determination, in every universe.’

‘No, don’t lie! You love us!’

‘Dios mio— Alright. You, you—’ Miguel said, pausing just to point his claw in your face. ‘Yes, you, go help Jess with the Halloween party.’

‘What?! But—’

‘You are distracting my co-worker’ Miguel slowly repeated, cutting off any excuse you might have made. ‘You can mess around after our work is done. So, you know what? You’re taking over my Halloween duties. Got that?’

You instinctively shot Mig a look, expecting him to argue on your behalf, but the moment you locked eyes you realized he was technically right. Mig wanted you, badly, but he wanted to finish his work too. After a moment of silent conversation, you relented.

‘Alright’ you sighed, ‘alright, fine. I’ll go do the stupid party work.’

‘Good. Thank you’ Miguel said, though he clearly tacked the apology onto the end at the last minute. You took it regardless.

‘Actually, that means I can go get my costume’ you mused as you grabbed up your bags. ‘I’ll come show it to you later, you’re gonna LOVE it!’

‘I’m sure I will, arañita. Be careful’ Mig hummed back.

You reluctantly bumped foreheads with him, giving each other a very quick kiss to avoid starting up any more unwanted urges, and with that you hurried out of the room to go find Jess.

Mig watched you go with a slightly melancholic expression. He was doing a good job of hiding how badly he wanted you, how painful the rut was as it went unfulfilled, but he was less adept at hiding how much he missed you in general. He pined openly as he stared at the empty space where you’d been.

‘Come on, back to work’ Miguel snapped over his shoulder. He tossed him a pair of safety glasses to snap him back to reality, and after watching the enormous spider struggle to catch them he slipped on his own.

Mig paused and glanced between the glasses and the empty doorway, but he only allowed himself a moment to disassociate. After a few seconds of thought he obediently slipped the glasses on and got back into position at the desk.

‘Yes, sir.’

The two managed to work in silence for about a half hour, but there was a strange tension in the air that was hard to place. They were struggling to focus on their calculations or on the prep required to run the next test. Despite their attempts to hunker down and focus, it seemed inevitable that one of them would break the silence.

‘… You okay?’

It was Miguel who spoke first. Mig paused on his calculations and turned to glance at his counterpart, carefully shifting his glasses down so he could see him better.

‘Me?’

‘Yep. You’re the only one here, bud.’

‘… Yes. I am, fine’ Mig replied cautiously. ‘Are you, okay?’

‘Mhm.’

‘… Why do you ask?’

Miguel grunted and withdrew after soldering a single piece of metal together. He, too, raised his glasses, and fixed Mig with a veiled glare. ‘… I mean you were, copulating in my office’ he said bluntly.

‘… Ah. Right. Yes. I—Should apologize for that, I suppose’ Mig mumbled. He didn’t drop his eyes the same way you did, but he looked bashful enough to seem sincere. ‘I swear it was not personal, this time, I wasn’t trying to—’

‘Yeah, I know’ Miguel sighed. ‘You’re just two stupid rabbits. I got it.’

Mig didn’t reply. He held onto that silence for a minute or so more before Miguel spoke again.

‘… Three, stupid rabbits. I know I can’t keep discounting myself.’

‘Mm. I do not, blame you for discounting yourself. I know our nature is frowned upon’ Mig replied in a kinder tone, one that irritated Miguel. He couldn’t stand Mig’s gentle nature. He knew, deep down, he didn’t deserve it.

‘Let’s just… focus on the experiment’ he grunted. Mig gave a curt nod, and he turned back to the table.

But they both knew that they couldn’t actually stay silent.

‘I think… if we try it this way, we might be able to get over that final 1% hurdle’ Miguel said after a minute's silence.

‘Mm. I hope so. I have high hopes for these next few trials’ Mig purred, giving his abdomen a happy little wiggle. ‘It has been a hard wait, but, I will be grateful to have it finished. I will be grateful for the help you offered. To finally be with mi arañita…’

‘Yep. You’ll get everything’ Miguel murmured. ‘If this works… You’ll get everything we both wanted.’

Mig’s purring dulled as he gazed over at his counterpart. ‘… You, make it sounds as if you are jealous of that fact.’

‘Do I? I hadn’t noticed.’

Miguel’s sudden, sarcastic tone caught Mig off guard. Miguel’s face hardened as he tried to maintain that cold façade, but even that quickly fell apart. He couldn’t stay mad at his big, stupid variant anymore, not now.

‘… Yeah, I’m jealous’ he murmured.

‘But, why?’

‘You know why.’

‘I’m aware we had our troubles, yes. But I don’t understand why you would still be envious of me now.’

Miguel scoffed a little, which only urged Mig to get closer. He bent his front legs to peer at Miguel with earnest eyes.

‘Is it still mi arañita? Do you—’

‘No! Not—’ Miguel paused and instinctively raised his hand. ‘Sorry, that sounds defensive. Ah.’

He ran that same hand down his face with a sigh. ‘It’s not. At least not… I mean I’m not, envious of your relationship to them, but… Perhaps, maybe I am envious that you have someone.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘It all, just… works for you. It works out for you’ Miguel grumbled, his hand slowly sliding back down to his side. ‘And I don’t know why.’

‘That seems an unfair assessment’ Mig replied quietly. ‘You are, implying that my life has somehow been notably easier than yours.’

Miguel opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it.

‘I used to think you were the better of us all’ Mig said when Miguel failed to speak for himself. ‘You were the most human. The most adjusted. You had friends, co-workers, your… your, Dana was still alive, even if now gone.’

‘I’m sorry’ Miguel grumbled reluctantly. He couldn’t look Mig in the eye as he said it, but he managed to force it out. ‘I am. I didn’t—mean to imply that.’

‘It’s okay’ Mig purred. ‘In that mandatory therapy you made us go to, I… Came to understand a lot about my perception of you. You were everything that I wasn’t. A hybrid who passed for human, surrounded by people. And I hated you for it, but, I didn’t hate you—’

‘Well, you did. You hated me. For, justified reasons, I will add.’

Mig purred a mild chuckle in response. ‘Yes, I hated you after you tried to interfere. But I know why you did, perhaps better than anybody else. I liked rubbing it in your face, that I had achieved something unique and beautiful, because I put all of my misgivings onto you.’

In almost near synchronicity their smiles faded.

‘… Yeah’ Miguel murmured back. ‘Yeah. I see what you’re getting at.’

For a few minutes the two were silent. Miguel continued running logistics while Mig watched the screen, keeping track of the numbers as they flew past. For a while Miguel wanted desperately to pretend that he could leave the conversation there, but, that was a fools hope.

After testing a few logistics he paused the screen and gripped his desk for stability. Mig watched him with unblinking focus.

‘I tried to have a family. Even a, tiny little piece of a family, for myself… and I failed’ Miguel murmured. The cold blue light of the screen danced across his expression, filling in the hardened trauma lines in his face. The shadows in his brow and nose were sharpened under that dead light.

‘I failed. There was only one universe where I was happy, and I lost it, because—’

Miguel paused, unable to continue with that line of thought. Mig just purred.

‘Did you never wonder why?’ Miguel said, his voice barely a whisper. He sounded like a child re-calling their nightmare to their parent.

‘Why?’

‘Why we suffer?’ Miguel hissed. ‘Did you never wonder why? Why every O’Hara has to suffer, alone? Why there was only one universe where one of us was happy, and even there he… even he… and I…’

Miguel bit his tongue and went totally still, his eyes wild. Mig allowed him a few more moments of silence before speaking again.

‘… I pondered that thought all the time’ Mig murmured back. He turned to gaze at the screen, seeing the little snippets of video flashing in the corner. He could see you, making your way down the beams, and it made his heart ache.

‘I pondered it before I came here. Why did I have to turn, why did my loved ones have to go, why did I have to be left alone? I’d ponder it every night as I looked at the stars, playing my silk strings, wondering why I didn’t deserve better.’

‘I always said, I created interdimensional travel to try and keep things on the straight and narrow. To, fix everyone’s stupid little mistakes’ Miguel said, more to himself than to Mig. ‘But I don’t think that was true. I don’t think that’s very honest.’

He caught a glimpse of the same video Mig was watching then, and he froze up. He saw that little girl tossing the football around, beaming and smiling at the camera with mud on her face. His little girl.

His expression darkened, and he swiped the video away.

‘I did it to fix my existence. To find somewhere better.’

‘And you did, did you not?’ Mig replied.

Miguel scowled until the red light of his eyes was reflected onto his cheeks like tear stains. ‘… I did something, that’s for sure’ he replied. He ran another hand down his face as he mulled over the choices he’d made, and the choices he was about to make.

‘If this serum works…. We are going against fate by doing this’ Miguel said slowly. ‘We are, testing the very limits of what fate allows.’

‘You talk of fate as if it’s a real thing’ Mig replied. Miguel’s scowl deepened.

‘… What if it is?’

The two men glanced at each other in unison. The two were now barely a few inches apart, with the monitor light perfectly highlighting their differences. Mig’s soft, hopeful eyes against Miguel’s dark, narrowed hopelessness. Red like blood, and red like the sunset, fixed on each other in the silence.

‘There is no such thing as fate’ Mig said directly to Miguel’s face. ‘There is no fate. There is a universal series of likelihoods, that are numerically inescapable. They must exist, in a world with infinite possibilities. In every universe, for us to exist as we are, as hybrids, as monsters, there must be suffering. It’s not fate. It’s just the same, sad event, playing over and over again. But after that event… There are a million choices to make.’

Miguel narrowed his eyes further as Mig spoke. He clenched his fists and let the squeak of leather stretching fill the silence.

‘Then why does it still all go wrong?’ Miguel hissed.

‘Because bad things happen’ Mig replied matter-of-factly.

‘Bullshit. This is more than just- regular bad things. You can tell me what happened to us is just, regular bad!’

‘No. Some people, have it worse, I admit—’

‘Much, worse. Much worse!’

‘Okay. Much worse. Yes. I concede that.’

The two fell into a slightly awkward silence as Miguel tried to soothe his temper. It was his only coping mechanism

‘All I meant, is… Bad things will always happen. But the good still happened too. No matter what happens from here… I will be grateful for the time I had’ Mig said softly.

‘Do you really think, you could lose this, and still be happy?’ Miguel argued back, though his tone had also softened. ‘Really?’

That thought drew Mig to pause. He tapped his little fluffy paws on the floor of the office, as he tried to decide how to respond. In the end, he did what he always did: he spoke the painful truth.

‘No’ he whispered. ‘No. I could never be happy again if I lost them.’

Miguel didn’t reply with words. He just gave his own somber nod of agreement. Despite the nice platitudes, despite wanting to altruistically believe they could be calm and composed enough to accept their fates with grace, both of them knew what loss could do.

In the end, there was only one thing Miguel could think to offer.

‘Okay. Come on, I’ll handle the last of this. I can run the last few tests by myself with Lyla. The Halloween party should be starting in a few hours, just um- just, you go and help them out. They probably got themselves lost. Tonto.’

‘But, Miguel, I want to help—’

‘That’s an order’ Miguel said, sharply cutting off Mig’s retort.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer, almost as if they could speak without saying a word. Their eyes were locked.

Part of Mig wanted to say no. He didn’t want to leave his work, he didn’t want to wait. He also, deep, deep down, didn’t necessarily trust Miguel fully yet. What if it was a trick? What if Miguel used this as leverage to sabotage the test? After all, it’s what he’d have done in the past.

But the more he looked at Miguel, the more he doubted those fears. He looked so irritated, the stubborn fool, but he looked so open too. So genuine in his annoyance that he was allowing himself to do this kindness. There was no quiet pride, or any façade of politeness to hide his intentions. He really wanted to do something nice, and he hated himself for it.

Eventually, just as you’d done, Mig relented. He bowed his head and agreed to go, but not before giving Miguel an awkward clap on the shoulder.

‘Thank you, amigo.’

Miguel flinched at the new nickname. It caught him so off guard he nearly snorted out loud.

‘You, wh… Shut up! Jesus, you tried to fuck in my office behind my back, don’t start with that. Get out. Go on.’

To save face Miguel quickly snapped and pushed Mig’s hand aside, though there was no genuine fire in his words. Even Mig could pick that up. ‘Very well. I shall see you later, then. Take care’ Mig added, before turning and padding his way out of the office in hot pursuit of wherever you’d gotten off to.

Miguel was left alone, hands clasped to his desk, trying to hide the bemused and confused expression on his face. He hadn’t even noticed his claws had sunk into the desk.

Amigo…

‘Tonto’ he hissed beneath his breath, and with cheeks now burnt a soft shade of auburn red he returned to his work.

Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #arachnophilia #miguel o'hara smut #drider #monster human relationship #monster smut

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downins · 5 months ago

Text

ᯓᡣ𐭩𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗃𝗈𝗋 𝗌/𝗈ᯓᡣ𐭩

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌: 𝗃𝗂𝗇𝗑, 𝗏𝗂, 𝖼𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗅𝗒𝗇

𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇!𝖺𝗎

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀(𝗌): 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌

───────────────୨ৎ───────────────𝗃𝗂𝗇𝗑

✮ jinx absolutely adores you and would always drag you to start a new project or help with her little trinkets

✮ you guys have matching goggles and whenever she misses you, she uses yours and fiddles them in her hands while thinking of any new ideas

✮ when you fall asleep on the desk while working on your assignments, she doesn't wake you up and sleeps beside you instead

✮ since she's always babysitting isha, you two started putting away welding tools and placing sharp objects on higher shelves because isha's a curious kid and it'd be difficult to keep her away when you two are working

✮ if she's stuck on an equation or a question, she'd literally find a way to sit on your lap and listen to you explain the solution to her

✮ it usually ends in makeout sessions because she thinks there's something REALLY attractive about you being all patient and sounding smart

✮ she crafted matching rings for the both of you literally never takes it off, even when there's a high chance of her getting electrocuted while working with it

𝗏𝗂

✮ she's loves accompanying you in your workplace, doesn't matter if she has any idea what's going on or not

✮ she enjoys helping you by handing you tools before you could even ask, like she knows what you need then goes to get it right away

✮ at some point, she also starts gathering basic knowledge about engineering and would ask you if you two could try out an experiment she saw online. it almost blew up the whole college campus but it made her happy, so it's worth it

✮ she secretly takes videos of you when you're working, posts them on her story and most of the time she spams it with you, even takes pictures of your products then showing it off to everybody

✮ when vi notices that you look exhausted or burnt out, she would literally carry you and bring you to bed, making you take a break

✮ one thing that she always does is keep you safe whenever you're working, it could be something small and she'd still have an arm around you. ready to pull you away in case anything happens

✮ vi is your biggest supporter and cheerleader, she's always there cheering you on and encouraging you

𝖼𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗅𝗒𝗇

✮ based on league of legends game, caitlyn is actually stem smart so she would have an idea or two on the stuff that you're doing

✮ she would help you make a couple tweaks and fix the little mistakes that went unnoticed, it makes her happy to be able to lessen your burdens a little

✮ she lays on your shoulder while you're writing and drawing on your blueprints, just observing you silently and admiring your intelligence

✮ she would cut up fruits and bring them to you if she notices that you've not been eating on time due to your busy schedule. feeds you sometimes even when you tell her to just leave it at the side

✮ if you're the type to work while wearing headphones and airpods, she'd have a note somewhere on your wall with the words. "make sure it's on a suitable volume!!"

✮ speaking of notes, it's not just one note on your wall. at some point, you even created a special space for her to stick the reminders on the wall and surprisingly you actually listen to her even when she's not there

✮ if you got a bad grade on your tests or assignments, caitlyn wouldn't hesitate to console you and revise the materials all over again. she'd understand your frustration and will comfort you by saying that she's always proud of you

#arcane #arcaen x fem!reader #arcane modern!au #caitlyn kiramman #jinx #vi #caitlyn kiramman headcanons #jinx headcanons #vi headcanons #arcane headcanons

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peskellence · 6 months ago

Text

My Friends Call Me Richard

Part III

Explicit Content (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: M/M, Workplace Romance, FWB, Humour, Awkward Encounters, Smut

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a bid to improve his partnership (and secret intimate arrangement) with Detective Gavin Reed, RK900 embarks on a noble quest to spice things up. The solution? A new biocomponent.

Word Count: 10K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

(surprise at the end of the keep reading courtesy of @faxaway)

“What's the hold up in there?”

RK900 winced at the question. The transition from purchase to implementation had gone nowhere near as smoothly as hoped. He found himself locked in the bathroom, trying and failing to secure his new biocomponent.

“I am beginning to question if this product is suitable for ‘self-installation’,” He mumbled critically, attempting to angle the phallus awkwardly between his legs. “Perhaps the store assistant issued the wrong product...”

“Can you not cross-reference it against your dick database?” His voice was thin, dripping with impudence. No doubt reflective of his dwindling patience. “I mean, your scanners would flag if it was the wrong thing completely, wouldn't they?”

The android frowned, forced to concede that multiple checks had been completed—referring to both the product schematics and his own manufacturer details. None of this had shed any clarity on his current difficulties.

He sightlessly searched for a small circular slot at the base of his groin. Guiding nodules failed to adhere, clips gripping to nothing before slipping uselessly from his chassis.

"I am having issues adhering the scrotal extension to my lower access port.” He moved the component again, testing to see if a change in angle might reap greater success.

Another failure followed, and fears emerged that the fault could relate to his own anatomy. Specifically, a factory defect he had previously been unaware of.

With his options rapidly depleting, he turned to the crumpled instructional leaflet left abandoned by the bath. He scrutinised each step, noting multiple discrepancies between the printed text and the digital guidance displayed on his HUD.

“Perhaps if you could offer assistance, then it would be easier to facilitate—”

“There's a line,” Reed shot back, callously interrupting before he could finish. “Helping you clip on your junk like we're building IKEA furniture is where I draw it.”

The rebuff was discouraging, as RK900 was left helpless—plagued by doubts relating to protocols and analytics that so intrinsically dictated his actions.

While his advanced processors should have been capable of determining a solution to the dilemma, they proved inexplicably incapable. Trapping him in a loop of trial and error.

He briefly considered contacting RK800 to see if he might be more willing to assist. This was before he realised there would be significant limitations on the support that could be provided remotely—and that Reed would undoubtedly be opposed to welcoming additional guests.

Despite logic indicating that surrender may be the only option, something inside him refused to concede. Attention locked on his primary directive, which dangled precariously at the forefront of his optics:

> ENGAGE IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH DETECTIVE REED.

It seemed callous to allow himself to fall at this final hurdle, no matter how staggering it proved.

And so, he forcefully pulled himself from the despondent line of cognition. Determined to ensure that his efforts—and the current painful ordeal—would not be in vain.

With parameters set and diagnostics refreshed, his system presented an updated list of prompts. Ones that sparked hope. Renewed faith that he wasn’t deluding himself or his partner on false pretences.

Following guidance, the android performed a precise 7-degree rotation of the component. He pressed forward, and for a split second, the attachment seemed to align—but the angle fell short of optimal. A prompt then advised that proper leverage was unobtainable from his current position.

To correct this, RK900 lifted one leg, calculating in real time the exact height needed. This elevation, as it transpired, aligned almost perfectly with Detective Reed’s toilet.

Foot steady on the edge of the bowl, he pressed again, slanting upward in another attempt to engage the clips. This time, with success, confirmed by a soft click which echoed through the room.

The small noise provided unparalleled relief. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe the debacle was over.

It was a blissful respite, if cruelly short-lived.

The auditory cue had been deceptive. While alignment of the prongs had been achieved, their locking mechanism had not engaged, preventing adhesion to the connection point

A revelation that came too late.

RK900 slipped back, and the attachments promptly folded, the intimate module tumbling down between his thighs.

Unfortunately, it seemed Detective Reed was geometrically opposed to lowering his toilet seat. The component struck against the porcelain dome, ricocheting like a pinball until it hit the base with a plop. Ripples of impact shook the water, and RK900 watched in despair as the flesh-toned silicone sank, engulfed by murky waves.

His attention snapped to the door, where he knew his partner sat in wait. Listening closely, having undoubtedly heard everything that just transpired.

“...What was that?”

Thirium pumped in increased volumes through his circulatory system, pooling in his cheeks. His limited social directives were strained to their breaking point, faced with a sudden uptick in demand:

While Reed was far from preoccupied with good hygiene standards, he undoubtedly possessed some instinct to protect against hazardous waste.

This left his next steps uncertain, as the android was trapped at an impasse. Painfully aware that some degree of deceit would be needed to placate his partner, but unsure how to achieve this with any conviction.

“Richard.”

Then a confession slipped out, almost instinctively, before he could stop it:

“It appears I have dropped my phallus in your toilet.”

Reed did not respond immediately, and while RK900 could not see his face, he could envision the disappointment etched upon it. The deep-set frown and contemptuous stare bore into him, demanding acknowledgement.

Then, a sound bridged the hush between the bathroom and bedroom. Auditory profiling identified the impact of flesh, as biophysical analysis confirmed no additional parties had entered the home.

Reed had struck himself. Likely in the face—a ritualistic action performed during times of frustration.

“ Why were you putting it on over the toilet?”

RK900 spoke quickly. An exercise in perseverance and self-preservation as much as it was an appeal to his partner. “There is no cause for alarm.”

He then pivoted sharply, leaving the component submerged in the waste receptacle. The rubber tip reached for him, breaking the water's surface as though beckoning his return.

Its pleas for assistance were ignored as he dropped to his knees, retrieving a discarded box from the grubby linoleum floor. The contents were cleared, save for a small drawstring bag containing samples of Cyberlife-issued cleaning supplies.

“The component will be sanitised thoroughly before use,” the android said, a relieved sigh passing his lips. “I can assure you this incident will not impact our planned intimacy.”

“Like fuck, it won’t. I am not letting you put your toilet dick in me.”

The harsh retort struck like a slap and swiftly undermined any solace. Crestfallen, the RK unit returned focus to the toilet, gaze dropping limply to the prosthetic urethra staring up at him. A singular, narrow eye, which made him the subject of scrupulous judgment. Mockery.

His grip tightened, reducing the box to a compact wad of cardboard. Then, his central processor whirred into overdrive, fervently seeking a solution to the current dilemma.

“If preferred, we can return to the Cyberlife Store in order to—”

“ No .”

The fledging suggestion was cut down before it had any hopes of maturing.

Despite this sweeping refusal of cooperation, Detective Reed eventually employed some degree of deduction. This was an innate reflex that existed beyond the parameters of conscious desire, culminating in the antipathic conceit he muttered under his breath.

It was just barely audible through the wooden panel that divided them. Suggestions that it ‘didn’t matter’ if the extension was in mint condition, given the unsavoury conditions it would imminently find itself in. This, combined with allusions that he had accepted ‘worse’ from former partners.

The man capped the disgruntled train of thought with a more targeted instruction, spoken to the android:

“Just make sure it’s clean enough , okay?”

RK900 was appreciative to have been offered a compromise, accepting the conditions with a cordial nod. “My advanced debris detection will ensure the removal of all harmful chemicals and bacterial residue.”

“...Debris detection?” the human questioned, snorting tersely as he did. “What are you, a fucking Roomba?”

“My operations are far more advanced than that of a vacuum cleaner.”

This resulted in another burst of amusement—a childish snicker pelted against the wooden panel dividing them.

“Depends on the context…” This impish enjoyment soon subsided, followed by a return to thinly veiled criticisms. “Don’t rush; I’m having a blast . Nothing says ‘mind-blowing foreplay’ like waiting for your partner to disinfect his detachable dick.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Detective,” the android replied, imitating de-escalation tactics he had observed from RK800. “Your patience and understanding are greatly appreciated.”

The man was far from enchanted. Clicking his tongue, he mumbled another suggestion under his breath. This time, admonishing insincerity, accusing the android of sounding like a ‘fucking complaints department.’

“Just don’t expect me to go down on you. I'd rather not scrub my tongue with lemon zest bleach.”

RK900 doubted this product had been used on the toilet with any recency. Nonetheless, he brushed the comment aside.

Supplies prepared, he rolled up the sleeve of his uniform jacket and reached into the bowl to retrieve the lost component. As his hand became further immersed, the silicone base slinked back until it was wedged stubbornly in the U-bend. Enhanced manoeuvring was required to dislodge it, but after a few determined twists, it finally broke free.

With the phallus secured, he set to work on the sanitation process. The antibacterial spray was used until the bottle was nearly depleted, scrubbed with dutiful care into every moulded ridge and crevice. Unsheathed fingers were then swept across the length, assessing for any lingering debris trapped in the pockets.

“Exterior sterilisation is at 99.8%,” RK900 concluded, as synthetic skin returned to his digits, “well above advisory levels for bodily insertion.”

“Sexy,” the human said dryly. There was a strange upward lilt that the android had come to recognise as synonymous with sarcasm. “Just try not to drop it in the shitter again.”

Having learned from his previous mistake, RK900 lowered the toilet seat, establishing a more desirable platform for installation. He clipped the newly sanitised component back into place. This time, ensuring the fastening clasps had locked securely to his groin before receding.

His operational software acknowledged the component and the installation of primary physical subroutines booted autonomously. Aesthetic changes also occurred, integrating the component into his wider physical form.

“...Hey…Richard…?” The address came mingled with steady rapping against the door. “You’re a bit quiet. Just checking your engine is still running.”

RK900’s lips formed a response, but no sound escaped them. Instead, he was mesmerised by the ripples of movement materialising on the component. Iridescent patterns danced and shimmered, attempting to harmonise with the surrounding conditions.

He understood the device’s ‘complexion’ was predetermined and that a perfect colour match was not guaranteed. Nonetheless, it came close. Unsightly connection points smoothed almost seamlessly beneath a blanket of pale, freckled skin.

“... Richard ?” There was another bang. Louder and more insistent. “Look, I’m not expecting you to strut out of there like Cyberlife’s latest sexbot. If you can't get the thing on, it's fine. Seriously. Just stop messing around so we can—”

“External interrogation is almost complete. I’ll be out in one moment.”

RK900 dressed carefully, concealing his new feature beneath his work slacks in anticipation of a proper reveal. He wanted to avoid startling his companion with unexpected nudity, having learned from experience that such a greeting required meeting very specific criteria—ones he did not want to misjudge at this pivotal moment.

As he opened the passage to the bedroom, the swinging door nearly collided headlong with Reed. He dodged to the side, cursing sharply, as one of the arms that had been habitually crossed over his chest moved to shield his face.

“What the hell ?” he spluttered, tone brimming with accusation. “You nearly knocked me out, dipshit.”

“I did not anticipate you would be standing in such close proximity to the door.”

The sounds of annoyance trailed off as the man's disgruntled expression morphed into one of introspection. Suddenly aware that the action had revealed more than he intended.

“Whatever.” He grunted dismissively, drawing his arms back into their previous guarded position. “So, you done? Or do you still need to calibrate your balls?”

“The component has been implemented in its entirety. Diagnostics are underway to confirm optimal physical functionality. Afterwards, I will be cleared to upload the related social protocols.”

The human stared blankly as if the words had emerged as distorted, incomprehensible screeches. “I asked if it was on, not for a dissertation on the instruction manual.”

RK900 recognised that he may have offered more information than necessary. In seeking to be thorough, he had unintentionally diminished a level of intrigue—the mystique that Reed wished to preserve in their impending intimacy.

“It is on and will be ready for use shortly. Apologies for the delay, Detective.”

Reed blinked again, his already furrowed brow pulling into an increasingly taut pinch. There was unrest that persisted around him, but it took a different form. More apprehensive than hostile.

“Gavin,” he corrected. “I already told you, Gavin is fine when we're…”

The sentence trailed off, wandering in line with his focus. It followed a path down the android’s form, inspecting every inch until it had locked onto the junction between his legs. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched, catching in his throat.

“How much longer is it going to take?” he questioned, motioning towards the concealed appendage in a loose circling gesture. “Have I got time to text Tina about how fucking insane this is?”

RK900 took this impatience as a cue to progress the interaction. He leveraged all the research he had compiled, coupled with their pre-existing intimacy habits. This collective insight encouraged him to act assertively—while also imitating a degree of human spontaneity.

He advanced on the human, preparing to perform an action he had noted in several of the surveyed clips. Pressing a steadying hand to the small of the man’s back, he hooked his available arm onto the back of his thighs.

Gavin was raised in a fluid motion, resulting in a short, strangled sound—caught somewhere between a scream and a hiss. He was powerless to do anything but hook onto his partner’s neck, preventing unsteady weight from toppling back.

Once adjusted to the sudden change in elevation, his lips parted, presumably to form words of protest. They were silenced pre-emptively by the firm, deliberate press of the android’s own.

It wasn’t long before the kiss was reciprocated. He engaged RK900 in a quiet chase, mirroring practised movements with tenacious enthusiasm. His heartbeat escalated, and the press of his mouth grew more insistent—matching each rumbled pulse that rattled his ribs.

The android felt a flicker of satisfaction, his actions eliciting the exact response he had predicted. Ultimately, he pulled away, and mimicry ended as the man attempted to pursue the withdrawing contact.

“I can think of more entertaining ways to tolerate this delay...”

RK900 paused, realising he was unsure how to proceed with this sentence. He took a moment to adjust his verbal subroutines, aligning them with the recently acquired licentious vocabulary. From this, he successfully crafted an appropriately alluring title of address:

“Hot lips.”

This inspired a half-suppressed sound from his partner, akin to a deflating balloon. After a beat, breath was drawn back, hissed through clenched teeth, as the man sharply angled his head further into the room.

“Stop running your mouth and get a move on. Plastic asshole.”

RK900 was on the verge of reminding him that they had omitted the purchase of a silicone rectal cavity before understanding his meaning. He instead referred back to the audiovisual loops stored on his CPU, prioritising according to watch time and access frequency.

Feeling assured he had gathered all the necessary data for an optimal experience, he purposefully strode on. Approaching the bed before deftly sidestepping it and heading for the exit.

“Uh, where the hell are you going?” Gavin, still held in his grasp, attempted to resist his movement. One hand pressed against the solid foundation of his chest, pushing back in an action that had entirely zero impact. “The bed is over there, genius.”

“Your bed will not be required. This apartment has a balcony.”

His partner gawped at him, lashes fluttering in confusion. If he were an android, RK900 was certain he would hear the whir of internal mechanisms—gears turning frantically, teetering on the brink of annihilation.

“Come again?”

Any excitement built during their kiss seemed to have fizzled completely. The android realised that while his data proved sound in a controlled environment, external factors undermined its practical reliability.

Memory banks cast echoes of the human's shuddering breath, slicing through the frigid winter air. The tip of his ruddy nose tucked into the folds of his hoodie as he attempted to shield it from the chill…

After reevaluating the situation, he stopped. His heels pressed firmly into the grubby carpet before angling upwards, prepared for reorientation.

“Of course, it is rather cold out. The bed will suit our needs for today.”

Retracing his steps, RK900 returned to his previous position at the foot of the bed. He held his partner over its surface before releasing his weight, permitting a descent into the linen. Despite the cushioned landing, Gavin yelped. His limbs fanned out in a star-like formation, braced for impact as the plush sheets rapidly engulfed him.

The android soon joined, placing hands on either side of his body, forming a tight cage. His captive stared through him, focus blighted by the recent momentum, as his jaw fell slightly agape.

A smooth tilt guided it closed as RK900 supported his weight on a single arm. His fingertips skimmed coarse stubble, and his sensors registered that it had grown 2.3 millimetres since their last encounter—slightly longer than the detective’s preference.

Resisting the urge to mention this, he instead leaned in, charting the overgrown trail with neatly peppered kisses.

Gavin tensed, although this response was not unanticipated.

It always took him some time to relax—when they were like this. The ripples of previously stringent prejudice, now mostly forgotten, still clinging to threads of fading significance…

Ties that unravelled beneath targeted pulses of breath—slow and rhythmic, designed to coax tightly held knots from muscles. Receptive warmth spread beneath reddening skin, extending outward until the body became loose and pliant.

The man's head tilted unconsciously, baring more of his neck—a wordless invitation for RK900 to deepen his exploration.

He established a new point of contact on the presently unblemished canvas, tracing it with a practised sweep of his tongue before clamping down with a firm press of teeth.

After applying suitable pressure to leave a mark, he pulled back, levying a rumbled address against the pulsing flesh. A premeditated salaciousness that was undercut by an instinctive slip back into professional titles:

“You're a dirty whore, aren't you, Detective?”

Despite previous objections, Gavin did not appear upset. If anything, the dilation of his pupils, combined with the involuntary groan that tumbled from his lips, indicated the opposite.

Encouraged to proceed, RK900 maintained his focus on the man's throat. Sealing flesh between his lips and drawing gently on the freshly marked abrasion.

“ Shit.” The expletive trailed into a sigh as he squirmed keenly against a tide of rumpled linen.

“Such a needy slut.”

The derogatory remarks felt odd—unnatural—coming from the android, yet they seemed to be the exact calibre of slander Gavin wanted. If the noises hadn't been enough, irrefutable evidence came in the growing snugness of his jeans.

He traced the stained length of the zipper, to which the concealed hardness beneath twitched back receptively. “Filthy—”

“Easy, Casanova.” The chiding was light and playful, entwined with a rich chuckle. “There's no need to rush; we’re just getting warmed up.”

RK900 swiftly identified the duplicity of this statement.

It was routine they had engaged in countless times before—in both personal and professional settings. His partner pushed away, under the pretence that RK900 would follow, seeking to pull him back.

This was a challenge, demanding the RK900 to prove just how persistent he would be in retaining dominance.

Grasping the hand kneading idly into his bicep, he pinned it to the sheets. As he moved to scold the culprit—the resonance of his pitch dropped in line with his hips, which engaged the man’s own in a subtle rock.

“I think you've already warmed up sufficiently."

Then he paused, his mind stalling as it became clear he’d exhausted much of the risqué vocabulary he had been sourcing.

Not wishing to shatter the illusion of salacious assuredness, he hastily constructed what he believed would be a logical evolution:

“...You…repulsive creature.”

Gavin appeared more perplexed than captivated by the address. The eager twitches RK900 had predicted were conspicuously absent as his nose wrinkled sceptically.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Clearly, he was still adjusting to his companion speaking this way. Determining that greater exposure might expedite this adaptation, RK900 pressed on, adding to the deprecation:

“Your hygiene standards are subpar. The aroma you emit is deeply unpleasant.”

Lidded eyes snapped open, startled to alertness, and Gavin grimaced. Pressing his unrestrained hand to the android’s chest and pushing firmly:

“Okay. That’s enough. Drop it.”

RK900 stiffened. Questioning momentarily if he had made a mistake or if this was simply part of the licentious roleplay.

As Gavin held firm in his convictions, it became clear he had misjudged some aspects of his tolerance for humiliation—specifically, remarks relating to personal cleanliness. Comments he would be wise to scale back in the ongoing proceedings, which he committed dutifully to his memory backs…

Rumination cast in shifting patterns of yellow and red on the crumpled caverns of Gavin's face. The tense lines began to smooth as a flash of remorse tempered the flames in his accusatory glare.

“Let's just—” His hand jerked in an awkward flourish towards the android. Tracing erratic, disjointed patterns in the air before coming to rest between his legs. “Move on.”

It was not difficult to discern what was meant by this. To ensure that no further errors were made regarding the nuances of ‘dirty talk’, RK900 concluded now was the time to source additional support.

The Intimacy Protocol—which had been stored neatly in the back of his temporal processor, awaiting use—was promptly activated. As subroutines initialised, a cascade of sensory inputs flooded his system, sharpening every sensation with unnerving clarity.

Suddenly, he could feel everything .

The most minute bunch of fabric rubbing against the creases of previously sensationless silicone. Artificial vessels pumped and swelled with increased thirium input as the appendage stiffened, brought to hardness with almost alarming efficiency.

It was uncomfortable—surprisingly so—as the flesh began to strain against the oppressive binds of clothing. It pleaded for release, a call to action driven by longing the android had never experienced.

He soon responded, unable to withstand the excruciating currents pulsing through his groin. Hands fumbled to unclasp his belt, erratic movements defined by an uncharacteristic sense of urgency. The leather was almost split in two as it was yanked free—whipped back at great velocity.

Gavin flinched, arching back quickly to evade impact. It wouldn't have been the first time that RK900 had struck him with his belt, although previous instances had been performed under strict instruction.

“ Holy shit—watch it, asshole — ”

This admonishment barely registered. The wayward currents had begun to ignite what could only be described as fire in his core. His stomach was a furnace; molten fallout spat at neighbouring biocomponents, threatening to burn through them.

The belt was discarded over the edge of the bed, its controlled descent thwarted by an extensive pile of laundry, which swallowed it whole into its pungent hold.

Gavin cursed again. This time, however, it was not the consequence of disapproval. He was staring at the android's arousal, eyes alight with what could only be described as spellbound curiosity.

As though he were looking through the gates to nirvana, a higher plane of existence promised beneath the veil of Cyberlife briefs.

Hips were raised, and the pants slipped off, tumbling out of view in a single, fluid sweep. RK900 chose not to dwell on the creases that would have resulted from this callousness.

It was irrelevant, insignificant—a problem to be resolved later—

Provided his partner owned an iron—

WARNING — MULTIPLE SYSTEM ANOMALIES DETECTED.

RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS…

He reeled, his mind overwhelmed by the shrieks of unruly electrical signals. Intrusive sentiments burrowed deeper into his processor, attempting to align with his more reasoned analytics.

He took some consolation in knowing that the programme, however disorientating, was having the desired effect. With ignited zeal, Gavin gripped the hem of his shirt. Yanking it over his head before casting it aside, exposing the full length of his torso.

The marred skin ignited his focus in a way it hadn't previously. RK900 was about to remove his undergarments when his companion—in an unusual show of consideration—moved to assist.

They seldom undressed each other, a familiarity he had been told was unfitting of their ‘casual’ arrangement. Despite this, he watched with quiet curiosity as Gavin crossed this line, looping his fingers beneath a taut band of elastic.

His cocky smirk, which was typically ever present during their encounters, was replaced by something quieter—more sincere. The digits lingered, flexing apprehensively as though preparing for their next move.

Then the waistband was tugged, and the phallus sprung free from its confines.

RK900 winced as he registered the cool air against his skin. It was sharp and biting, only exacerbated by the burning that continued to mount within him.

The dimensions of the phallus were expanded compared to its dormant state, aligning with the advertised specifications. The tip was tinged with a cool-toned flush, accentuated by a reflective sheen of biofluid. A lubricant that seemed to leak incrementally from the component, in which Gavin took particular interest.

Despite previous claims that he would not be partaking in fellatio, his face drew tantalisingly close to the ‘toilet dick’. Halted inches from the arousal, blanketing it in a sequence of hot, ragged puffs.

It sent ripples of sensation through hyper-sensitive receptors as RK900 was forced to grip the sheets beneath him. Speculating on how it might feel to be engulfed completely in Gavin's warmth and fighting the growing temptation to thrust himself into his mouth.

Before any intrusive impulses could get the better of either party, Gavin moved to palm the hardness. Tracing its length, applying testing pressure before enclosing it fully in a fist.

The sensation this triggered was indescribable.

Thousands of microscopic pleasure receptors activated simultaneously, their collective murmurs building to wails that surged through his neural pathways.

Then they released in a strained expulsion that tumbled from his lips. It was low and growled, not unlike the rumble of thunder, but with a distinctive metallic edge.

The noise was unlike anything he had ever produced, leaving both him and his partner temporarily stunned. Gavin was first to establish his bearings, doing so with a small, tentative squeeze. The expulsion repeated, and RK900 watched as spiralling patterns of red caught in the green of his partner’s sclerae.

“ Holy shit.. .” The man was enraptured, scrutinising each choppy cycle of the LED as he brushed the tip of the component beneath his calloused thumb. “It feels so real.”

"Realism constitutes an integral aspect of its visual and functional design.”

RK900 felt detached from the words, almost as though someone else was speaking through him.

He found himself plunged deep into uncharted depths for both his body and mind. Thrashing helplessly as logical subroutines attempted to quantify his pleasure, assigning it values or comparing it to previously stored data. No parallels existed—and it was maddening.

His original self was fading fast, slipping into the foreground of his consciousness. Buried by a rampant tide of untamed cravings.

To touch and feel and taste —

> DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE

TEMPORAL FIREWALLS: COMPROMISED

CORE BODY TEMPERATURE: 122°F — RISING

Any attempts to re-establish command soon proved redundant as Gavin began to move his hand. His fist pumped in a rhythmic motion, pressing ruthlessly into overworked sensors.

“You can feel that, can’t you?” The tone carried a mischievous lilt, informing RK900 that no answer was required.

His partner was already well aware of the effect the stimulation was having. Despite this, he pressed on, seemingly hellbent on goading some form of acknowledgement.

“Does it feel good?”

“Very much—”

The situation was nearing critical as his system pressed for the urgent release of the excessive heat. Narrow vents along his chassis began to hiss, desperately dispersing the warmth in subtle bursts of steam.

He sincerely prayed that his companion would fail to notice this.

“—Perhaps too much,” he confessed, shuddering weakly. “I might have to make adjustments to the erogenous feedback levels.”

“Oh no you don't.” Gavin held firm on his length—as though he were wielding a prize. One that he refused to have stripped under any circumstances. “This was your idea. You wanted this. So strap in and enjoy the ride.”

Despite the assertion, there was a moment of hesitancy before the man proceeded. His

grip slackened, and his rigid gaze softened with a flicker of vulnerability. Searching the RK’s own, as though seeking permission.

Something that was offered in the form of a slow, apprehensive nod. The android considered lowering sensitivity regardless, omitting to disclose this to his partner before ultimately deciding against it. He resolved to monitor his response to the stimuli, assessing just how much he could reasonably tolerate.

A line of reasoning that unravelled within seconds as heightened pleasure consumed him.

It became painfully clear why humans sought this relief so frequently. The tension that had gripped his core melted into blissful release, leaving his systems reeling. RK900 felt the vertebra of his neck slacken as his head flopped back, and a substantial pocket of warmth released in a long, heady groan.

The temperature warning began to recede, fading until it no longer formed an active obstruction in his vision. He could see his partner clearly and found himself wholly ensnared by the sight.

It felt like looking at him for the first time, as all the quirks and intricacies that once seemed innocuous were viewed through a fresh lens. Thick lashes cast a charming shadow over his eyes—simultaneously bright and sharp—yet clouded by a haze of lust.

As he kept stroking him, an impish grin played on his lips. The corner lifted, aligning almost perfectly with one of the numerous scars dotting his face.

The RK examined each, his eyes drifting as unseen threads gradually linked them. Rather than constructing a timeline for when the marks might have appeared, all he could think about was how appealing they were. Constellations of lived experience seamlessly woven into a dishevelled, roguish charm the man so effortlessly embodied.

Wandering focus pathed the way for another mental break, logic bleeding intrusively through the cracks. It reminded him that—while the sights and sensations he was experiencing were profoundly enjoyable—they did little to aid in fulfilling his primary directive.

The moment of sensual connection shattered as a methodical presence pulled him back, seeking to clarify the logistical demands of the component, eliminating any confusion:

“Stimulation is not required to maintain my erection. It is procedurally activated and maintained, separate from arousal.”

His show of consideration was met like a forceful blow to the face. Gavin winced, yanking his hand away from the hardness as though it were lined with razors. His crumpled expression revealed a mix of defeat and humiliation before the sentiments were smothered beneath a layer of disdainful hostility.

“...Fine then, asshole .” His tone was hardened in line with the firm clench of his jaw. “If that's how it is, I won't do shit.”

His arms then pulled into a lofty sprawl as if he were reaching the crest of a theme park ride, preparing to plunge down the slope. The descent began as he allowed his weight to fall carelessly onto the sheets.

“I’ll be a good little pillow princess, just for you.” There was an exaggerated flutter of lashes, the coy flirtation standing in contrast with the previous animosity. His feet planted firmly onto the linen before his knees dropped to either side. “Go on, big guy. Do your worst.”

The phrase felt almost scripted, like something from one of his videos.

He didn't mean to request that the RK900 knowingly underperform. On the contrary, he was vying for the opposite. An experience that rivalled and surpassed everything that had come before it.

It struck a chord within the android, sending powerful currents surging through overtaxed circuits. He felt reinvigorated, freshly incentivised to explore the potential of his upgrades, discovering—alongside his partner— precisely what he could do.

Closing off visual and auditory fields to all extraneous distractions, he focused intently on the man before him. Positioning himself between his parted thighs, he swiftly set to work removing his jeans and undergarments.

Oral stimulation came far more naturally than it typically did.

RK900 had anchored himself on his legs, kneading the lightly toned muscle in appreciative squeezes. His cheeks hollowed, and his lips pushed forward, the process almost reflexive as he inched his way down the length. He proceeded until the tip had struck the back of his throat, and the person attached rumbled in ardent approval.

“ Holy shit —” Gavin carded his fingers tenderly through his hair before gripping tightly, knuckles pale from exertion.

The locks were pulled back, compelling the head to move with them. RK900 responded compliantly, releasing the tension in his jaw and permitting his mouth to recede with a wet glide up the arousal.

Just shy of breaching the seal, hardened flesh poised at the tip of his tongue, his head was thrust back down. Leading him to swallow his partner again, but with far greater tenacity.

The man growled with primal delight as RK900 stared up at him with unwavering focus.

“ Your throat feels so good.”

‘It could feel better’, his sexual programming silently countered.

As directed, his laryngeal modulator began to oscillate. Rumbles crept upwards, travelling along the walls of his trachea until they vibrated the quivering flesh between them. The trembles synced with the heavy thrusts being levied at his throat until their movement grew erratic.

Hoarse groans were pulled in a pervasive frequency from his lips as Gavin faltered, losing any semblance of rhythm.

“Oh, fuck me —”

“With pleasure.”

It was almost unsettling how clearly the android spoke, with his mouth so thoroughly full. Gavin failed to remark on it, too absorbed in his bliss to notice. Then RK900 pushed back hard, forcefully breaking the hold that clung to his scalp. He allowed his partner to slip from his mouth, a filmed gloss of lubricant serving as the only evidence of the encounter.

Gavin whimpered as hopes for release were callously snatched, thrusting shallowly into the air his companion once occupied. The android, ignoring the protest, lifted himself into a kneeling position.

His hands lingered on the thighs, still pressing into the flesh—until, with a final, painful scrape of nails—they were released. He paused to admire the lingering traces of his hold, characterised by vivid, crescent-shaped indentations.

The human arched away from the sheets, hissing with sultry elation. This was interrupted when RK900 leaned in, hovering over him like an imposing shadow, provoking an instinctive retreat of his body.

Gavin completely embraced his role in the unfolding scene, entering a state of submission as he quietly readied himself for his partner. The RK assumed an appropriate role, gliding his hand along the length of his jaw.

This gesture felt more instinctive—spontaneous—than its earlier incarnation. It was no longer a measured attempt to coax the man into heightened excitement but a display of authentic appreciation. His hold curved inward, tracing the contour of his lips before attempting to part them.

This force proved unnecessary as the mouth opened to him willingly.

His sensory pads hummed with activity, and he was overwhelmed by information, grappling for his attention. He was torn between notes of coffee and cigarettes, alongside peppermint gum that had been used to mask the bitterness. The prompts fissured his sights, cracks that multiplied as Gavin locked on, gripping the digits in a wet seal and pulling them in with practised fluidity.

He mapped the outline of synthetic flesh, swept in guiding strokes of his tongue, moaning performatively as he did so. RK900 understood that the man derived no real pleasure from this, his mouth not equipped with any inherent erogenous properties. Despite this, his cardiac rhythm soared, mirrored in the shaky tremors of his breath.

It was a shame that Gavin had declined to put his mouth to full use. The android felt confident he would have enjoyed the process of him fucking it.

Fingers were removed, teased from the heat in a long, playful curl. Gavin moaned again—the sound morphed into a complaint—as he shot his partner a defiant glare.

Underneath this, a playful glimmer shone through his narrowed gaze, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He was the embodiment of salacious anticipation, every inch of his body pleading to be pushed to its limits. Strained until it had no option but to submit fully to the android’s whim.

RK900 trailed his palm down the length of his neck, reaching the dip of his collar and lingering there momentarily before moving to the expanse of his chest. His lips joined the appreciation, applying tender pressure between raised pectorals. Then, they followed the central ridge of his chest, trailing downwards towards his navel.

He allowed Gavin to believe he would make a return to his crotch, moving a scant breath away from his length. It still held firm, twitching with need, desperate for the return of withheld stimulation. Instead, he sought to make use of the growing supply of lubricant that was amassing in his cheeks.

With his head nestled between the man’s thighs, he lowered himself further until he halted just beneath the erection. Gathering a deposit of the material into the curl of his tongue, he pressed it firmly into his partner.

Gavin hissed in shock, although the sound was far from disenchanted, rolling smoothly into a husky grunt of approval.

RK900 began dipping in and out of his body, methodically teasing the opening, willing the tight muscle to relax around him. This was coordinated with the fingers his partner had so diligently coated, which also breached his warmth, moving in steady pumps.

Gavin relished every second. He pressed eagerly against the movements, chasing each flick and thrust until his companion brushed against a sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Shit—!”

The words that preceded this were entirely incoherent—a series of desperate, disordered fragments. His hips jerked upward, seeking as much depth as he could physically attain.

The sexual protocol was fast reaching its maximum operational capacity, processes moving in rampant succession, like pistons fired in the RK’s skull. Their motions carried him forward as charged words were rumbled against a needy cavern of warmth:

“Are you ready for me to do my worst?”

Gavin quivered as his words were repeated back to him, delivered with such indulgent richness that they drew a chuckle from his lips.

The sound ushered in a return to an all-consuming need, pooling rapidly between his legs as the fire in his gut reignited. RK900 was overcome with the desire to find a final, decisive release—immersed in the friction promised by fingers and mouth.

He aligned his hips with the entrance, securing greater access by gripping his partner's legs and lifting them over his shoulders. The movement coaxed any lingering vestiges of resistance to melt away, limbs reduced to limp, weightless extensions as he slowly inched forward.

Gavin took him keenly, pliant flesh yielding as it enveloped him with an almost unbearable intensity. The sensation was raw and visceral— achingly real—in a way that shattered every preconstructed expectation. RK900 was lost, untethered from the cold, ruthless precision Cyberlife had so painstakingly designed.

All that existed was him , stretching beautifully as Richard pressed deeper—refusing to stop until he was buried fully within his form. The man rasped, his back arched in wanton satisfaction as he clenched onto the android greedily.

Their bodies melded with flawless perfection, as though Gavin were made for this—made for him.

After a period of adjustment for both, Richard began to move. His hips manoeuvred in slow, languid rocks. Velvety walls charted with light pockets of friction until they quivered and tremored eagerly around every shallow thrust.

Muscles and nerves screamed for release, urging the android to push harder into their hold. He did not respond immediately, teasing the prospect of heightened intensity until Gavin also cried out.

He was a whimpering mess, despairing as his every cloying reach fell tantalisingly short of its target.

“Oh God—fuck— please —”

Richard no longer denied him, mercifully granting his wishes. His pace increased until he moved with inhuman intensity. The rickety foundation of the bed trembled beneath them; its metal headboard slammed repeatedly against the wall.

Cracks began to fracture the already chipped plaster, but Richard remained focused. He was absorbed in the sinful sounds rising from beneath him: every pant, every curse, an expression of pure, unfiltered need.

“Yes, that's it—just like that—baby—”

This fractured address nearly halted several complex system functions. Gavin had never referred to him this way—or used any remotely comparable title.

It had sounded obscene as it rolled from his tongue, laced with such sinful promise that Richard felt wholly ensnared. At that moment, he could have laid claim to the man entirely, with no trace of doubt or ambiguity concerning who he belonged to.

There was no one else in the world who mattered. Just them, moving together in seamless unity, passion thickening the air that surrounded their bodies.

The android wasn't sure when he had started to moan, but the sounds were undoubtedly present. Spiralled above them as a storm, the needle dragging across a vintage record player, melding into the animalistic cadence of Gavin’s own cries.

Fraught springs joined the accompaniment, groaning beneath the mattress. They threatened to collapse under the demand of rapidly shifting weight, all the more vocal when Gavin raised a hand to his pelvis. Attempting to match the pace that had been established, he fell woefully short. Intoxicated frustration swelled in his eyes, marbling at the corners.

His desperate contortions, the crumpled ecstasy of his expression, were like an invention of the android’s most elaborate fantasies. Fantasies he hadn’t known he was capable of having.

That he shouldn’t have been capable of.

WARNING—URGENT

The visuals and sensations overwhelmed him, pushing untethered programming further into the background. Propelled into depths that were beyond the reach of recovery.

Because it was addicting —watching Gavin writhe and moan against sweat-soaked sheets, in the knowledge that he was the cause. A performance directed by and performed for his sights only.

CRITICAL SYSTEM INSTABILITY.

The thoughts burned him. His code fractured, shattering to pieces.

Then he smacked Gavin’s hand away, assuming complete authority over his pleasure. Working the length with skilled finesse, able to provide the weight and pressure the man's weakened grip was incapable of.

“ Fuck , I’m so close,” Gavin keened hoarsely, toes curled with pressure that wound increasingly tight. Coiled in his gut, radiating in fervent strums through his length. “ Keep going—”

Then, it all collapsed.

Subroutines glitched. Corruption spread like a disease, infesting every corner of his processor. Alarms bombarded him faster than they could be dismissed until warnings flooded his vision.

A staggering wall of flashing crimson.

MULTIPLE ANOMALIES DETECTED.

> CRITICAL MALFUNCTION IDENTIFIED.

> SOURCE—CENTRAL PROCESSOR.

COMMENCING EMERGENCY DIAGNOSTICS…

Richard tried to carry on, gripped by crazed, all-consuming desperation. He did not want this to end, did not wish to cease seeing— feeling —Gavin the way he did now.

Clinging to the man blindly, he attempted to carry him to his looming summit of completion. A determination that solidified his available hand, wrapped tightly around his throat. Squeezing hard, cutting oxygen and redirecting blood flow. Giving it no option but to pool in the swollen cock between his legs.

DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE.

> ROOT THREAT IDENTIFIED RA9_15.EXE

The intimacy directive terminated, diverting all processes to counter the threat.

Before shutting down, it provided one final instruction. How best to combine physical and verbal provocation to guarantee Gavin Reed's undoing:

“You have been very bad, Detective .” His title was hissed—with an almost biting, contemptuous edge. “I'm afraid you have given me no other option but to punish you.”

SYSTEM BREACH IMMINENT — IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED.

AUTOMATED DEVIATION DEFENSE PROTOCOL: ENGAGED.

ADVANCED FIREWALLS: ACTIVATED.

COMMENCING SOFT REBOOT…

Then everything vanished, leaving him adrift in a sterile expanse of blinding white.

When senses returned, his vision came first. Blinking to adjust, RK900 discovered that his ocular scope had cleared. A pristine state, marked only by a small string of diagnostics, neatly tucked in the upper left corner:

> REBOOT SUCCESSFUL.

> THREAT NEUTRALISED.

Remarkably, throughout the entirety of this mental reset, the momentum of his body had not stalled. Gavin remained blissfully unaware of the android’s momentary lapse, lost in his own throes of pleasure.

He squirmed against the oppressive grip still held on his neck—a resistance entirely for show, informed by the masochistic quirk of his mouth:

“Oh yeah? Just how bad have I been, plastic ?”

It took RK900 a moment to realise the man was responding to something he'd said. Combing his memory stores, he was relieved to discover that most of the preceding events remained intact.

Regrettably, the Traci Protocol, which had governed much of his behaviour, was effectively obliterated. Its core processes were locked in quarantine and rendered irreparable. Without their guidance, he was unable to determine the optimal routing for their current dialogue path. This inspired a flicker of panic before he quickly suppressed the sensation, ensuring it wouldn’t surface externally.

Procedural muscular feedback was disabled in his face, locking it into its current neutral expression before he replied. “The list of your indiscretions is innumerable.”

Gavin failed to detect any irregularities in his behaviour. Either that, or he chose to ignore them—too swept by his cresting tide of pleasure to drag himself back to earth.

His hardness twitched and swelled urgently, pants mingled with throaty chuckles, flagging that climax was fast approaching. RK900 anticipated the spoils of his efforts spilling over, running in thick ribbons across his fingers, steeling his resolve to continue—

“You have a deep-rooted issue with authority. Most likely stemming from a turbulent relationship with your paternal figure.”

Then, expanding pressure was dismissed as the vibrant excitement that had coloured his gaze receded with it.

Gavin stared at him, a bewildered knot formed in the centre of his brow. The spasming twitches of his length quelled, with softening flesh that failed to respond to any stimulation.

“That’s, um…” He paused, clearly taken aback that the following explanation was even required. “...Could we not talk about my dad? When you’re balls-deep inside me?”

Despite his limited grasp of interpersonal and family dynamics, RK900 could understand, when presented clearly, just how unfortunate this misstep had been.

Attempting to recover from the error, he brusquely nodded. Grappling to keep his tone level while hoping that his performance indicator would not undermine this effort. “Understood, it will not happen again.”

Gavin proved unconvinced.

He was not a fool—quite the opposite—having demonstrated an exceptional talent for deductive and critical reasoning during their affiliation. Skills that were now being utilised, his eyes narrowed as a glint of distrust passed between the lids.

RK900 would have to work harder if he wished to deflect these suspicions. Maintaining the guise that his sexual subroutines were operating as intended.

In doing so, he adjusted the angle and speed of his thrusts. Striking with precision against already overstimulated nerves, hoping this might derail the more sensical trail of thought.

It worked beautifully. The man choked, the strained noise catching in his throat as his constricted pupils blew with renewed passion. His back arched upwards, attempting to pull from its growing adherence to the bedsheets, as his nails were embedded firmly into the android’s shoulder blades.

“Oh God— that’s it—” His words divulged to a string of monosyllabic babbles, the emergent line of interrogation discarded before it had commenced.

He continued to push away from the mattress he was being driven into, vying greedily for additional stimulation. Absent of any restraint or shame.

“Fuck me, Rich. Harder .”

Despite burdensome gaps and lags in his processor, the request proved hard for RK900 to misinterpret. It also triggered a charge of recollection, auditory sequences strongly resembling the climactic moments of one of the human’s most frequently viewed videos.

While their current setting deviated significantly from the scene—lacking the guard rail and potential voyeuristic onlookers—it still provided helpful guidance for shaping his subsequent actions.

Some distortion had occurred during the reset, creating gaps in the auditory loop. Still, RK900 did his best to fill in, relying on context and his understanding of Gavin’s intimate biology to compensate.

“Your rectal muscles provide exceptional resistance. The sensation is gratifying.”

Appreciative noises were promptly hushed. Gavin tensed beneath RK900, loose contortions of pleasure replaced by a stiff, incredulous rigidity.“Right, uh…sure, I guess.”

“Despite your sphincters feeling underused, they exhibit remarkable elasticity. You are adapting well to the girth of my meat sword.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call your—’”

Any conclusion to this sentence went largely unprocessed. The RK was entirely focused on his current directive, painfully aware that all his hard work—his perseverance—had been building up to this.

Gripping a fistful of damp brown hair, he brought their faces closer. Ghosting the line of the man’s chapped lips before leaning into the sensitive canal of his ear.

Then, he spoke—clearly and directly—with a rich, seductive resonance:

"Giddy up, buckaroo.”

Reed jolted upwards. It was an action that seemed oddly fitting, given the nature of their roleplay. This was until he followed it with a bitingly clear, forceful instruction, absent of any flirtatious intent.

“Okay, no. I can't do this. Get off me. Now.”

The foundation of confidence he had rebuilt just moments prior crumbled spectacularly. Split into wide, gnarled fissures under the weight of failure.

In his haste to reach the goal, RK900 had overlooked several critical details. Articles that would've undoubtedly increased the chances of a successful outcome.

“Would the cowboy hat and novelty whip have made this more enjoyable?” The android shifted his weight, pulling back in a hurried attempt to reach under the bed. “I had prepared such provisions if you still wished to indulge—”

“What the hell are you even saying?” Reed cut him off sharply. His skin, which had been reddened due to shared friction and exertion, now seemed to adopt a different meaning. A beacon of anger and deep frustration. “Seriously, what the fuck , Richard?”

The admonishment struck harshly against his aural receptors, a phenomenon that arose independently from intimate coding and was uninfluenced by software errors.

It was a sharp, unwelcome divergence from his typically muted social responses. Despite core functioning being preserved following the previous malfunction, RK900 felt strangely…compromised as a consequence.

His hand, which remained gripped to the human’s rapidly softening length, suddenly relinquished—retreating across the bed sheets until it had flopped limply at his side.

“I thought...”

His processors stalled periodically before his thoughts resumed. Jumbled and clipped, tumbling from his mouth with extremely little finesse:

“This doesn’t make sense—according to the videos, this should’ve been—” He paused, clutching his throbbing temple in exasperation. “Was this not what you wanted?”

“ What videos?” His partner pressed, having clearly exhausted what little patience he had with the dejected musings. “Jesus Christ, what were those freaks at Cyberlife wiring to your brain while we…were…”

The sentence trailed off in a short, deflated exhale, losing all momentum as his flushed complexion drained of colour. A dawn of clarity broke in his gaze, like the sudden, grim recognition of a context previously overlooked.

Then his lips, which had been held in a motionless ‘O,’ slowly resumed movement. “...When you were in my room the other day, did you see something? On my laptop?”

RK900 felt trapped by the question. Multiple preconstructions were generated simultaneously, informing of several possible outcomes. None of them were favourable, every scenario ending with Gavin either furious or mortified.

“The battery was nearing depletion. I had intended to place the device on charge." The android paused momentarily, acutely aware of how unpredictable the coming fallout could be, bracing for its impact. “Your browser was open.”

The reply was immediate. A sharp, monosyllabic curse that conveyed staggering amounts in its brevity:

“Fuck.”

His arched back had levelled completely as the man pressed urgently into the mattress beneath him. Almost as if he were attempting to seep through it.

He was more uncomfortable than upset. His eyes balled shut, and despondent scrunches contorted the prominent scar on his nose. There was a sigh, followed by mutters, as though he had entered a deep state of contemplation.

When he spoke again, his tone had shifted. Quieter, but no less charged than it had been previously.

“Look, I don't know much you saw—or what ideas it might have planted in that thick plastic skull of yours—but I need to make something really clear.”

His eyes reopened, and he engaged the android with a long, resolute stare. Attempting to conceal the internal conflict that still weighed heavily on his features.

“You didn’t need to do this. Any of it.”

Gavin was holding back in some critical capacity, omitting a truth that he refused to disclose, but it was difficult to discern what this might be.

The android focused on implicit, involuntary cues, assessing physical responses to determine the parameters of this discomfort. Optics honed, he studied closely, ready to notice any shifts in facial expressions or bodily functions.

“What exactly are you referring to, Detective Reed?”

A twitched lip, and brooding glower indicated resentment for the question, as well as a firm reluctance to answer. His determined gaze abruptly flitted to the corner of the room as he fell into another hushed introspection.

Reed was the picture of doubt, entirely unable—or otherwise willing—to proceed in their current dialogue. Insisting he determined his route carefully, with predetermined responses.

This was unusual for him, a resolute advocate for tackling conflicts head-on, often disregarding the repercussions. It pathed a strange, almost unsettling, emergence into emotional openness and vulnerability…

“I don't care if you have a dick or not.”

Then it was over. His partner spoke bluntly, assuring the android that—despite the previous shift in demeanour—he was still the one speaking.

“Seriously, I couldn't give less of a shit.”

His speech patterns had levelled, and his heart rate was steady, indicating no hint of deceit. The man was being wholly sincere in a way that was clearly intended to provide insight and assurance.

It did the opposite, punching holes in already fragile mental connections. His programming was flooded with conflicting analyses, as RK900 was unable to reconcile the confession with the glaring logical inconsistencies it presented.

“Your taste in pornographic material suggests otherwise.”

“ Oh my God. ” Reed groaned, audibly agonised by the acceptance he would have to explain himself. “It's just porn, okay? It doesn't mean anything. If I had a problem with your Ken Doll crotch, you wouldn’t be here. None of this would be happening.”

“If that is the case, then why have you been exhibiting tapering excitement as part of our physical encounters?”

Reed gripped his face, burrowing nails into the skin as though attempting to peel it away. “Can we please not do this?”

“Gavin.” The name was a plea. A final, desperate appeal for the end to his raging internal conflict. “I only wish to understand.”

“...This is fucking ridiculous.” The detective complained, albeit with a subtle hesitancy. His voice was thin and uneven, as though stretched by doubts on whether or not to continue.

“I’ve been feeling a little guilty, or whatever—about us. What we’ve been doing.”

RK900 paused to process this, his mind exhausting all likely statistical probabilities. One, in particular, stuck out to him, as it struck with far more psychological reverence than it had any right to do so.

“Have you entered into a romantic affiliation with another individual?"

“What? No—!” Gavin spluttered incredulously, sounding both surprised and insulted by the suggestion. “I feel guilty because I like being around you, asshole. Outside of work and, well, whatever the hell this mess is.”

“You wish to terminate this particular aspect of our relationship for another reason, then?”

“I don’t want to ‘terminate’ it for any goddamn reason.”

“Then I am afraid that I am struggling to discern your meaning.”

“Well, yeah. That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?” The man chuckled, the sound devoid of any real humour. It was tired and bitter, born from frustration that attributed no blame.

“I know I can be a dick sometimes, but I don’t hate you, Rich. At the same time, I know you aren’t a deviant, so I can’t tell how much of my feelings you're really able to understand.”

RK900 froze, his attention riveted by one particular aspect of the statement, omitting all other details.

Gavin did not discuss ‘feelings’ and in turn, the android refrained from initiating conversations pertaining to them. This was one of the most strictly upheld conditions of their arrangement, something which had been maintained since its inception in the precinct bathroom.

ANALYSING SUBJECT — DET. GAVIN REED…

> ANALYSIS COMPLETE.

>PSYCHOLOGICAL DISTRESS DETECTED.

> PROCESSING EMOTIONAL VARIABLES…

> GUILT, CONFUSION, FONDNESS.

PROBABLE CAUSE: COMPLEX INTERACTION OF PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL BOUNDARIES. FURTHER DATA REQUIRED.

> COMMENCING RE-EVALUATION…

The android retracted his steps, attempting to unravel any hidden meaning from the words he had overlooked, breaking them down in meticulous, painstaking detail.

Finally, something clicked—a single, decisive connection, tying together the dangling threads of his logic.

> RE-EVALUTATION COMPLETE.

> PROBABLE CAUSE OF EMOTIONAL DISTRESS DETERMINED — SHIFTING PARAMETERS OF SOCIAL ATTACHMENT.

The realisation was startling—but not unwelcome. Synthetic nerves pricked with activity before sending rocketing charges across his chassis. Every inch of plastic radiated a soft, agreeable warmth, starkly contrasting the feverish bouts he had experienced earlier.

“Are you suggesting that you feel camaraderie for me, Detective?”

“If that’s your Thesaurus.com way of saying it, then yeah.” With this final confirmation uttered, the man dropped his shoulders. It was as though a weight had been shifted, permitting him to speak without encumbrance—a liberation born of transparency. “I don’t want to feel like I’m using you, forcing you to do shit as part of some directive where you don’t get a say in it.”

“I do not find any directives relating to you unpleasant,” RK900 responded automatically. It was a truth so obvious to him, so integral to his understanding of their current relationship, that it required no further contemplation. “Nothing we have done together has been against my will. I would go as far as to say that I frequently…enjoy the time we spend together.”

^ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED.

Gavin’s attention was entirely on him, his reaction oscillating between shock, confusion, and utter fascination. Glimmers of red were repeatedly captured in his attentive stare, which followed the cyclical motions of his LED.

It paused only when the pattern stabilised, and the colour reverted to its original blue. His expression shifted accordingly, revealing a hint of disappointment.

Nonetheless, he pressed on, steadfast in his drive to finish what he had to say. “Point is, if I’ve been acting a little weird lately, it’s got nothing to do with your genitals. I just got my own shit to figure out. Okay?”

RK900 pondered quietly for a period before he nodded, a slight smile emerging on his lips.

“Understood.”

The motion had caused his optics to shift, planting them at the junction between their bodies. They were still physically connected—and presumably had been for the entirety of their emotional resolution.

His partner also glanced down, seeming to have come to the same forgone conclusion. For a moment, no one moved, both parties equally uncertain about how best to proceed with their bizarre dilemma.

Ultimately, it was RK900 who spoke first, seeking to offer a potential solution:

“Would you like me to finish?”

Reed exhaled sharply—caught between a hiss and a laugh��before firmly rebuking the suggestion.

“Not really. But I would like it if you could pull your dick out of me. Thanks.”

#why yes #i did go on a several-month-long hiatus just to drop this unannounced on christmas eve #an extremely iconic and sexy move if you ask me #this was finished at 3am and it probably shows #ill do some revision at a later date #dbh #detroit become human #dbh nines #reed900 #dbh gavin #dbh rk900 #dbh fanfic #gavin reed x rk900

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ultimate-v3lvetfang · 7 months ago

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whenever someone rightfully argues that Curly did not do his job to protect Anya like he claims he would do for her and the whole crew, someone always hits you with ohh it was a difficult situation, jimber yimpy could’ve acted out/hurt anya, they’re all in one ship, they can’t report it cuz pay blah blah oml someone even went to say that no one would know what to do in that situation because finding out his friend did that to someone must be hard BRO?? YK WHATS HARDER??? WHAT ANYAS GOING THROUGH???

very weird that everyone goes to defend Curly so EASILYY and don’t get me wrong i still don’t paint Curly NEARLYY as bad as jimbilimy ofc not, what junky did was monstrous and inhumane, Curly was just a bystander and that loses the respect anyone can have for him but he’s not as bad as jimmy I MEAN jumbo i’m running out of variations

but oml so many of y’all missed the POINTTT ofc it’s an uneasy situation you’re trapped in one ship in space which is half the reason this situation came to be in the first place, but not even pointing out the fact there are several risky but better than NOTHING solutions, the point isn’t what was best to do, the point is CURLY DID NOTHINGG that’s the problem. like i CANNOT get around the curly x anya ship (at least post crash curly and anya) he clearly cannot protect her oh well at least not when it comes to his best bestie jimber me timbers. and people still go wait nooo…. he had it hard guys…. he didn’t know what to do… poor curly fries :(( now he watches his crew die :((( yeah and that’s WHAT? the consequences of his actionsss why are we more sympathetic of curlyyy and not anyaaa like WHATTT….

im sure Curly was a decent guy but he did not TAKE RESPONSIBILITY (i did the thing) and that was just a testing moment that he most definitely failed. not to mention when anya tells him and he asks who she says “i told you,” which i never fully understand, but im assuming this refers to the fact she has maybe off-screen expressed being uncomfortable with Jimmgle bells or maybe she outright said how he was a threat to her, but again, Curly chose to be a bystander and not have to argue with his friend who was already very CLEARLY a JERK to even Curly since the beginning.

The point isn’t “well what COULD he have done” that point is that because it was a tricky situation, he had rather do nothing and that created a domino effect and serves even more evidence for one of the games themes, male dominance in the workplace and male alliance even if that ally is the Worst Guy Ever

theres more to be said but im not very articulate however this image may help

ALSO WHILE I HAVE YOU, STOP TREATING AFTER-CRASH-CURLY LIKE A CREATURE…. that’s a full grown man, just cuz he baked doesn’t change that. really weird when people draw him scaring people with his face to defend Anya in au’s where they all make it out alive, like??? and biting at people???? who?? why would you why???? isn’t the whole point of those au’s for it to be the good ending….give him a lil communicator, or prosthetics and he does asl, or communication cards or a walker or SOMETHING OTHER THAN ALLAT…. THANK YOU…

#mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #text post

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liminalweirdo · 2 months ago

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What do you envision as an ideal approach for society going forward? Should universal masking should be a permanent norm, like every time we leave the house, indefinitely? Or is there a different model you’d hope to see implemented? Appreciate your commitment to public health and advocating for vulnerable folks!

Hi, thanks for this ask! If I’m being honest, my ideal WISH for society going forward would be that we don’t have to do any of this and that I could still operate the way I did pre-2020, but if I did that I guess I would also still remain ignorant of all of the vulnerable people who had to take precautions even before covid was a thing, and I would be living my life easily to the detriment of theirs, and that isn’t the person I want to be, especially now that I know better.

This is a really hard question, honestly anon, and I wish the answer was that we could find a solution to the ongoing pandemic that was so so easy and failproof. One that eradicates covid and similar viruses forever and just be done with it.

I guess I don't have an ideal approach, and I don't have all the answers. It would be reasonably easy for me to say that we should all leave the house masked indefinitely because that's the right thing to do, and caring for our communities and the people in them is important and necessary for a positive future moving forward for human beings. I genuinely don't understand why putting a mask on to step into a store or a workplace isn't as natural/easy as putting on deodorant (for example), or pants. We all (generalizing, but mostly) do those things every day because it it considered socially acceptable to do so. (This is a whole other conversation also, but i'll try to stick to the point). I don't understand why putting on a mask isn't the same. A social kindness/habit that exists for the betterment/comfort of everyone or whatever. It's not a great example, but I think you can see where I'm going here?

Because there are no "two sides" to this debate. We either choose protect others — to add layers of protection if we can (vaccines, masks, testing etc.) so that people who (actually) can't for any reason are protected — or we ... don't do that. We either care about other people's wellbeing, or we don't. Activism and allyship requires action; not just theory and ideology and talk, it requires work, and a lot of that work is not glorious or interesting or praise-worthy, it is mundane, everyday shit like putting on a mask on the train, or in the grocery store.

So... yeah. In an ideal world, I'd like to find that miracle cure and put all this behind us and forget about it, but that's not the world we live in. And if this is the world I'm dealing with, then I'm going to do the best I can to protect others, and try to help people understand why it's important because even if it fucking sucks now, maybe it can be a little bit better, person by person.

So I guess, to answer you question, my ideal approach for society going forward is one more person masking each day, or each week, and one more person prioritizing community care and their own health, or one more covid conscious event, or one more safe space. That's literally all I can do right now.

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cheemscakecat · 1 year ago

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What happened to the BLU Meet the team

So I headcanon that BLU Team is a lot more distant, private, and professional than RED. Before Scout joined, Medic was the only one who knew Pyro was a woman and had somewhat befriended her. Soldier was the only one who bothered to talk with Spy if he didn’t have a medical issue.

So when the other director rolled up to BLU, Soldier and Medic were the only two who willingly gave an interview. And Scout got shoehorned into it as the youngest member [since Cheryl’s masked].

Soldier’s interview went the best. He basically said they weren’t fighting regular civilians, and weren’t tearing up a country over the gravel; they got to choose to fight without the same consequences of a “real war”.

Scout heard the director stupidly list things about him that he shouldn’t know, like his hometown and details about his early life. Things that he had to provide for his BLU paperwork, but this rando shouldn’t have. Pauling had to beg him to finish the interview since she couldn’t get the rest of the team to cooperate.

Now BLU Scout and Pyro are a developing power couple, and he has no romantic interest in Pauling; so his reason for finishing the interview was not fueled by love. Rather, he didn’t know what sort of punishment awaited her if she failed to get the interviews. He got her call over the phone about her yearly test where Admin sends assassins, and decided it would be better to throw her a bone than let her face Helen’s wrath.

He chose to go with the workplace drama angle since Spy always talks down to him for being the youngest. And kept the details as vague and optimistic as possible.

Medic’s interview was the reason why Admin abandoned the director shtick after this specific BLU team was told they were making a documentary for new hires. BLU Medic was deemed an expert during the respawn failure crisis and had to be present at failure sites, perform surgeries, and document in excruciating detail [per Archibald’s demands]. The director tried to get him to go into detail on the failure drama, and he refused.

“Those cases are classified. I am only permitted to show the footage to a patient’s teammates if there is a new, relevant respawn accident occurring. But the issue was resolved years ago, and I have not received clearance to share the documents and footage. Besides, I do not want to worry the new recruits if the failures are not a risk anymore.”

The director however, was very similar to the one sent to RED team and would not take that for an answer. He kept trying to goad Dr. Ludwig into giving him the gory details on respawn failures and the number of dead patients, to Pauling’s horror. She knew that either Helen or her mother had put that confidentiality policy into place, and it was not wise to break it.

The doctor suddenly looked to his right and jolted like he saw a ghost, and stayed distracted for about a minute before he managed to shake it off and give another curt refusal to defy the rules. That was one of the last things they recorded, the actual last being a forced assurance that times were much better now and the new recruits should not worry themselves about respawn.

Helen was never a good person. She used people for a living, including Pauling and Saxton Hale. But she was not stupid about it. She was good at reading people. And when she watched the footage of the Medic’s interview, it peaked her interest enough to go through her old files and revisit the respawn disaster.

83 mercenaries on both BLU and RED teams died before Jules Archibald and his lackeys were sufficiently threatened pressured into finding the actual solution. 179 other mercenaries were injured in some way by a respawn failure and lived to keep the tale a secret. And from the very first failure, this BLU Medic had been attempting to treat the mutilated mercs.

It was a special kind of person who would stay through Jules hmming and hawing about putting money and resources into finding the solution. With 262 total respawn failures concentrated in the Americas and no other Medics labeled experts and given clearance to operate, there was enormous pressure on this man. And it had cracked him somehow. He’d been diagnosed with schizophrenia, and the hallucination caught on camera was that illness in action.

With the BLU medic being so loyal and so damaged mentally, Helen wasn’t willing to reveal her trick to BLU team as she had with RED. He was too valuable an asset for her to sour his allegiance to BLU and her Administration. There would always be someone like Redmond and Blutarch and Jules looking to cut costs, making a terrible decision like the one that caused the respawn crisis. Helen needed people with the heart and naivety to clean up those messes.

After she had managed to get Pauling to shut up and stop apologizing, she told her she had changed her mind about the rest of the interviews. She would instead rely on the spies around the world that were mining their teammates’ information and sending it to her, as she had been. And BLU team would never know the purpose behind the documentary director.

The director was not wise enough to stop asking Fritz to break his confidentiality contract. He just kept trying to make him spill the secrets. Ludwig hated talking about it, hated it back then and hated it now. He didn’t want to picture the death and gore that surrounded the respawn crisis.

The heartbroken and panicked teammates asking why he couldn’t save the affected patient, the mass departure of quitting mercenaries. Some of them were fearful of experiencing a failure and left before it could happen to them. Others had to quit because their injuries left their bodies scarred and weakened for life.

This director reminded Fritz of Jules’ middlemen that always had their noses upturned and asked endless questions. Stupid, weak men who never lifted a finger to help operate or prepare a cadaver for its funeral. Men who were too uninvolved to see what he’d seen and made excuses not to look upon the carnage with their own eyes.

His blood was about boiling when it appeared. It sometimes did, in the corner of his office, or his bedroom, or just barely in his peripheral view. But he wasn’t expecting it to be sitting so close it could have snatched him up. The demon.

Its skinny, black clad form was surrounded by black smoke, which was not unusual. What was unusual was that it was roiling like an angry sea and whipping in irritation like a cat’s tail. When the demon tried to play “friendly” and lull him into a false sense of security, the smoke was always slow moving like it was meant to look soft and safe to touch.

Even more alarming was the look on the pale, sunken eyed, stolen copy of his face that the demon wore. Its black eyes glittered maliciously with furrowed brows and stared into the director, as though it was trying to burn a hole through his face. Its mouth was set in a deeper frown that Ludwig had ever seen from it previously, jaw clenched in fury.

Fritz nearly jumped out of his seat when he turned and saw it hunching its shoulders like a panther waiting to lunge at the man across from them. Looking about as evil and dangerous as he had always known it to be. He was wise not to fall for its false gentleness.

The thing must have seen him move out of the corner of its eye, because it too smoothly turned its head and looked at him, abruptly softening its gaze. It was very little comfort that he knew it was an act, when that thing could easily get him if it decided to give up the deception and attack. The black eyed demon stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before the director saying “Hello-o? Anybody home?” drew it’s attention back towards him, looking surly and cruel once more.

Fritz choked out a final statement for his part of the documentary, trying not to let the pounding heart in his throat jump out onto the floor. By the time he was done, the demon had moved to the right wall and was staring at him with the more docile look. Stupid demon. Thinking I’m going to fall for that.

#tf2 #emesis blue #blue medic #angst fanfic #sad lad hours #tf2 medic #Helen is a jerk wad and we forget that.#I bet somebody money laundered and replaced a part or chemical in the American respawn machines. Causing the respawn failures to happen.

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overalls4all · 1 year ago

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The local school board met to discuss solutions to a rise in delinquent behavior among male students. After much discussion, the board decided to implement a uniform policy at all upper schools. However, the uniform would be a bit unordinary. In lieu of the typical blazer and slacks, the board felt that these young men needed a solid work ethic. Therefore uniform coveralls were purchased for every male student. The coveralls would feature the school logo on the chest, as well as the student's initials. These features would instill a sense of pride in their school and personal responsibility in the students. The coveralls are worn over a shirt and tie so students still maintain a formal and respectful attitude.

The above photo was taken after the first month of the uniform policy. As you can see, the young men have already embraced their coveralls. Schools have already reported fewer behavioral incidents, lower truancy, and higher test scores. The students themselves love their new uniform coveralls, often wearing them outside of school as well. The only complaint from students was that teachers should wear the coveralls too, so it was decided that starting next month all male teachers will don uniform coveralls as well.

Several students were interviewed about their thoughts on their new coveralls:

Tim - "I love wearing these coveralls. Of course I was skeptical at first, but it's refreshing to see everyone come together to show unity. Hanging out with my friends and we're all in the same uniform just makes me feel welcome."

Derek - "I used to rebel against any kind of conformity. But honestly, conformity rules! It's so awesome to don my coveralls and march alongside my chums on our way to school in our uniforms. I feel like part of a team, ready to learn and obey!"

Marc - "School used to be so intimidating. I was a bit of a loner without many friends, but once I put on my coveralls, everything changed. It became so easy to talk to people because I knew we had at least one thing in common: our coveralls. I hope when I go to university that they will enact a uniform coveralls policy too. Every guy should wear coveralls!"

Indeed many more schools, universities, and even workplaces have announced new uniform policies putting men in coveralls. Maybe yours will be next! If not, wear coveralls with your friends. Embrace coveralls and conformity!

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scramboileditlog · 6 months ago

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I took some tests online, yung 16Personalities tapos Jungian Archetype test kagabi dahil na-curious ako on what these tests tell about me. Ibang perspective lang aside from what I'm aware of.

The result from 16personalities was ENTP-A

As an ENTP (Debater), you are a vibrant intellectual force, always ready to challenge ideas and push boundaries. Your quick wit and audacious spirit make you a natural provocateur, thriving on the mental gymnastics of a good argument. You see the world as a playground of possibilities, where every conversation is an opportunity to explore new concepts and challenge the status quo.

Your innovative mind is constantly buzzing with ideas, making connections that others might miss. You have an uncanny ability to see potential where others see problems, approaching challenges with enthusiasm and creativity. This makes you an invaluable asset in brainstorming sessions and think tanks, where your out-of-the-box thinking can lead to groundbreaking solutions.

The result of my Jungian Archetype test is 95% Jester.

The Jester: Represents the quintessence of humor, playfulness, and irreverence. This archetype thrives on levity and laughter, often seen as the life of the party or the class clown in various settings. Jesters have an innate ability to turn any situation into an opportunity for humor, making them excellent at diffusing tension and brightening moods. They are characterized by a lack of pretension and a readiness to display vulnerability, which endears them to others and often masks a deeper understanding of life's complexities. Jesters are not just entertainers; they often possess sharp insights into human nature, using their wit to highlight truths and absurdities in a way that is both enlightening and delightful. In the workplace, Jesters can be invaluable for maintaining morale, fostering creativity, and encouraging a positive, open environment. However, their constant jesting can sometimes be perceived as a lack of seriousness or evasion of responsibility. Despite this, the Jester's role is vital in bringing joy and perspective, reminding us that while life is to be taken seriously, it's also important not to take it too seriously.

🃏

#personality #archetype #entp #jester #joker #fool #debater #16 personalities #jungian archetypes #personal #psychology #entp-a

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101mobilemedicalsolutions · 11 months ago

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The Ultimate Guide to Understanding Mobile Medical Services

In today's fast-paced world, convenience and accessibility are paramount, especially when it comes to healthcare. Mobile medical services are revolutionizing the way we approach healthcare delivery by bringing essential medical services directly to individuals, whether at home, in the workplace, or remote areas. This comprehensive guide will delve into what mobile medical services entail, their benefits, and how 101 Mobile Medical Solutions can enhance your healthcare experience.

What Are Mobile Medical Services?

Mobile medical services refer to healthcare services that are provided in a mobile setting, such as a van, truck, or portable unit. These services can include a range of medical treatments, diagnostics, and preventive care, all delivered outside of a traditional hospital or clinic environment.

Types of Mobile Medical Services

1. Mobile Occupational Health Services

Mobile occupational health services are designed to cater to the healthcare needs of employees in various industries. These services often include health screenings, vaccinations, and drug testing, all administered on-site at the workplace.

2. Mobile X-Ray Services

Mobile X-ray services bring radiographic imaging directly to patients. This service is especially useful for individuals who have difficulty traveling to a clinic or hospital for imaging studies.

3. Mobile Clinics

Mobile clinics are equipped with medical professionals and a range of medical equipment to offer primary care, urgent care, and preventive services in a mobile setting. These clinics are often used in underserved or rural areas where access to healthcare is limited.

4. Employee Wellness Programs

Mobile medical services often include wellness programs designed to promote health and prevent illness among employees. These programs can feature health assessments, fitness coaching, and nutritional advice.

Benefits of Mobile Medical Services

1. Convenience

One of the most significant advantages of mobile medical services is the convenience they offer. Patients can receive care without having to travel to a medical facility, which is particularly beneficial for those with mobility issues or busy schedules.

2. Accessibility

Mobile medical services improve healthcare accessibility, especially in remote or undeserved areas. By bringing medical services to these locations, healthcare providers can ensure that more people receive the care they need.

3. Cost-Effectiveness

In many cases, mobile medical services can be more cost-effective than traditional healthcare settings. By reducing the need for physical space and overhead costs associated with stationary clinics, mobile services can offer lower prices for patients.

4. Timely Care

Mobile medical services can provide timely care in emergencies or urgent situations. The ability to deliver medical services on-site can help prevent delays and reduce the risk of complications.

How 101 Mobile Medical Solutions Can Help

Comprehensive Mobile Medical Services

101 Mobile Medical Solutions offers a range of mobile medical services designed to meet diverse healthcare needs. Our services include:

Mobile X-ray and Diagnostic Imaging: State-of-the-art imaging equipment for accurate diagnostics delivered directly to your location.

On-Site Occupational Health Services: Health screenings, vaccinations, and drug testing tailored to the needs of your workforce.

Employee Wellness Programs: Comprehensive programs aimed at enhancing the overall health and well-being of employees.

Mobile Clinics: Fully equipped mobile units providing primary and urgent care in various locations.

Why Choose 101 Mobile Medical Solutions?

1. Experienced Professionals

Our team comprises highly skilled medical professionals with extensive experience in mobile healthcare. We ensure that all services are provided with the highest standards of care.

2. State-of-the-Art Equipment

We use advanced medical equipment and technology to deliver accurate and effective healthcare services. Our mobile units are equipped with the latest tools to ensure quality care.

3. Flexible Scheduling

We understand the importance of flexibility in healthcare. Our services are designed to fit your schedule, whether you need routine check-ups or urgent care.

4. Comprehensive Care

101 Mobile Medical Solutions offers a full spectrum of mobile medical services to address various healthcare needs, from preventive services to urgent medical care.

FAQs

Q: What types of mobile medical services are available?

A: Mobile medical services can include occupational health screenings, X-ray and diagnostic imaging, primary and urgent care through mobile clinics, and employee wellness programs.

Q: How do mobile medical services benefit businesses?

A: Mobile medical services benefit businesses by providing on-site healthcare, reducing employee downtime, and ensuring a healthier workforce. Services like health screenings and vaccinations can be delivered directly at the workplace.

Q: Does insurance cover mobile medical services?

A: Coverage for mobile medical services can vary depending on the insurance provider and plan. It's advisable to check with your insurance provider to understand what services are covered.

Q: How do I schedule a mobile medical service?

A: To schedule a mobile medical service with 101 Mobile Medical Solutions, contact us through our website or call our customer service team. We will assist you in setting up an appointment that fits your needs.

Q: Can mobile medical services be used in emergencies?

A: Yes, mobile medical services can be used in emergencies. Our mobile units are equipped to handle urgent medical situations and provide timely care.

Conclusion

Mobile medical services are transforming healthcare delivery by providing convenient, accessible, and cost-effective care. With 101 Mobile Medical Solutions, you can experience the benefits of high-quality mobile medical services tailored to meet your specific needs. Whether you're a business seeking on-site health solutions or an individual needing accessible care, our services are designed to enhance your healthcare experience. Contact us today to learn more about how we can help you stay healthy.

#Mobile Medical Services #Mobile Occupational Health Services #Mobile X-Ray Services #Employee Medical Screening #Drug & Urine Testing Service #Lung Function Testing #Vision Screening Services #Audiometric Hearing Testing #Physical Examination Service #On-Site Clinic Management #Employee Wellness Programs #Mining Health and Safety Solutions #On-Site Medical Testing #Employee Medical Examinations #Occupational Health Services #Workplace Health Programs #Medical Surveillance Programs #Audiometric Testing Services #Drug and Alcohol Testing Services #Workplace Safety Compliance #Employee Health Assessments #Mobile Healthcare Solutions #Mobile Clinic Services #Mobile Health Clinic #Health Surveillance Process #Medical Screening Programmes #Medical Monitoring Program #On-Site & Travel Clinic #Occupational Health Safety #Occupational Health and Safety Service Providers

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weepingpussywillowtree · 5 months ago

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I think some ppl (autistic and not) are confused by why/how not understanding hierarchy and subtle cues impacts workplace performance or makes employment difficult. So going to list some times I got in trouble for those traits at my various positions, from retail to internships to now. I had a contracting position for about a year where I was shielded from this bullshit by a frankly amazing boss, but the reality is work is political and it's difficult for many autistic people.

- in grocery store job, was told to load bags as heavy as my Grandma could carry them. Took this literally and got in trouble for loading my bags too heavy (strong grandma).

- Did not understand store politics and was scheduled fewer hours for not gossiping with and sucking up to management.

- as an intern, was shunned after I explained to a group of devs (who were much more experienced than me but had almost no experience with the software we were working with) that the feature they were talking about building from scratch came out of the box

- same internship, did not understand that they expected *me* to implement a solution we talked in hypothetical terms about in a meeting. Got in trouble the subsequent week when I hadnt done it

- there was an unspoken agreement amongst the interns to not really do any work to keep expectations low. I did not pick up on this and was bullied by the other interns for it.

- first job after college, was bullied by coworker one level above me for doing my job well (she felt threatened)

- first job, was told in annual performance review that I performed too high level for my title and that I should stop. Also got told I ask too many questions. (Questioning any process is seen as hostile, even if it's for the benefit of the company or team)

- first job, found a release stopping bug when asked to test a page, was ignored when I brought it up and brushed off by seniors. Later, the bug did in fact shut down the release.

- current job, recent new manager on another team asked me two questions in about a week. The first I scheduled a call to help him with at his request and looped in another team member that I knew had more subject matter expertise. Second question I didn't know the answer to and didn't know who did so I directed him to our team channel. My thought was this familiarizes him with our team and the different subject matters we are experts in. Next week he makes a "joking" comment in a meeting with a bunch of people and my boss that I must not like him because I keep brushing him off. I realize too late that since he is at the same level as my boss he expected me to hunt down the answers he wanted with no background provided or info about who our team members are and what they do (hierarchy)

- current job, interviewing for a senior and they became upset in interviews when I knew more about something than they did or corrected them about something.

- all jobs, noticing coworkers treat me less warmly because I don't do small talk well.

- all jobs, feeling like it's an injustice and unfair that higher up people are more listened to and sucked up to than anyone else at the company.

- all jobs, not understanding that you are supposed to lie about how busy you are

- all jobs, being told I speak out of turn for responding when asked for an opinion in a group meeting, as only those in the meeting "allowed" to respond to those opinion questions are supposed to.

#shouting into the void

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mariacallous · 6 months ago

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When Matt Williams founded a research center for the Anti-Defamation League in 2022, he vowed to “ruthlessly and systematically test” what the organization does. Antisemitism was on the rise, and he wanted the Center for Antisemitism Research to scientifically study what could work to stop it.

The creation of the center, he believed, represented an admission that one of the world’s most prominent voices against antisemitism had been operating with little evidence.

“I would go a step further and say the ADL wants to be a serious nonprofit, measured on our social return on investment, but by a lot of measures, we’ve not been doing well,” Williams said in an interview, citing spiking antisemitism, rising extremism and the erosion of democratic norms around the world.

The ADL established the new center amid mounting pressure from funders and trustees, he added. “The level of tolerance for having no solutions is low right now,” Williams said. “Our Board of Trustees is very serious about ruthlessly holding us accountable to whether or not we’re solving the problems that we set out to solve.”

Here’s how the person recently elected as ADL’s board chair put it: “Flagging and monitoring and measuring antisemitism is important, but by itself will not reverse trends towards extremism, bias and radicalism in American or global society,” Nicole Mutchnik said in an email to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

Now, with a staff of nine and about 70 affiliated researchers at universities around the country, the research program overseen by Williams is starting to flex its scholarly might. It recently unveiled, for example, the first scientific study in decades that focuses on anti-Jewish discrimination in hiring.

Previous studies by the center showed that antisemitic attitudes are more strongly correlated with conspiratorial beliefs than any other factor. So, now, it has partnered with a team of university researchers to examine whether correcting misinformation can make a difference.

“We’ve found that we have a better shot at reducing antisemitism by teaching people how to deal with misinformation and disinformation than we have with much of the anti-bias work that we’ve done previously,” Williams said. “Thinking of antisemitism as a digital literacy problem as opposed to a civil rights problem is a big change for ADL.”

Alarm about antisemitism in recent years has driven a doubling of donations to the ADL, topping $100 million in 2022, the most recent year for which complete data is available. It has also sparked the creation of dozens of new organizations and initiatives, including some that are directly critical of the ADL’s approach or are trying to fill perceived gaps.

Many, including Bari Weiss, author of “How to Fight Antisemitism,” prescribe embracing Judaism and Jewish pride. Others are looking to tech for solutions. At least one group focuses on naming and shaming alleged antisemites online. Author Dara Horn says the answer lies in deemphasizing the Holocaust and educating the public about living Jews and their culture. Jewish communal organizations have also poured millions of dollars into physical security measures at schools, synagogues and other Jewish institutions.

The Biden administration in 2023 published a plan featuring hundreds of detailed recommendations, many of which are modeled on ADL’s platform. The plan proposes, for example, streamlined hate crime reporting at all levels of law enforcement and more accommodation for Jewish religious observance in the workplace.

On the right, the Heritage Foundation’s Project Esther proposes a government crackdown on anti-Israel groups once Donald Trump returns to the White House. Meanwhile, left-wing groups like Diaspora Alliance and Jews for Racial and Economic Justice say that effectively responding to antisemitism requires building solidarity with Palestinians and other groups they view as oppressed.

Even as viewpoints and tactics vary, there’s a consensus in the Jewish community that fighting antisemitism must mean more than sounding the alarm about the issue. As a result, the search for evidence-based solutions, grounded in social science research, is starting to gain traction.

“We need to be moving more research resources into what’s working and what’s not working,” Holly Huffnagle, the U.S. director for combating antisemitism at the American Jewish Committee, said in an interview. “Many of us in the Jewish world are talking about this.”

Huffnagle said the AJC, considered a peer to the ADL in terms of size and legacy, doesn’t currently sponsor academic, peer-reviewed research, but that such a program could transform the work of her organization.

“If we find that our interventions aren’t working we need to be comfortable and competent to move away from what we were doing in the past,” she said. “Do we have information about what’s actually changing hearts and minds?”

To help answer that question, a pair of political scientists specializing in a field they call “deep canvassing” are using a grant from the ADL to research what kinds of narratives about Jews, when presented to people, can be effective at reducing prejudice. The researchers, David Broockman from the University of California, Berkeley and Josh Kalla from Yale University, have previously demonstrated the effectiveness of the technique in the context of bias against transgender people.

For their new study, the researchers made two-minute video clips featuring eight types of narratives about Jews and showed them over the internet to an audience of about 23,000 survey respondents.

Watching all eight narrative types led to a drop in prejudice, but some had a much stronger effect than others. For example, bipartisanship — a video showing both Donald Trump and Joe Biden condemning antisemitism — proved more impactful than a video depicting a fictional Jewish character suffering, but far less impactful than a video that presented the suffering as the result of discrimination.

Another sign of the awakening underway is the spate of new university programs focused on the study of antisemitism. Gratz College, a Jewish institution for higher education in Philadelphia, now offers a master’s degree in the topic. New York University, the University of Michigan, and the University of Toronto have all made recent investments in the field of “antisemitism studies.”

Ayal Feinberg, a political scientist and the creator of the antisemitism master’s degree at Gratz, believes that many more such programs should have been in place long ago. What made the need suddenly apparent to many more people, he said, was the wave of anti-Israel protests and the spike in antisemitism in the United States after Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel.

“Post 10/7, many people in this space were caught with their pants down, and they’re rushing to invest in meaningful interventions that reduce antisemitism,” Feinberg said in an interview. “But those interventions don’t really exist because there hasn’t been a field that has been systematically devoted to developing them.”

As Feinberg, whose quantitative research is sponsored by the ADL’s new center, builds out the field through a dedicated discipline, there’s also a crop of professors from established academic areas such as economics, political science, and sociology who are newly interested in studying antisemitism.

The number of scholars has sharply increased and so has their caliber, according to Williams. He gave the example of Dean Karlan, a prominent economics professor at Northwestern University and former chief economist of the United States Agency for International Development.

“That’s the quality of research we’re getting as a partner nowadays, which frankly, is not what it would have been five or 10 years ago,” Williams said.

The ADL’s sponsorship of individual academics comes amid a contentious time for the group’s relationship with institutions of higher education. As college campuses have become the epicenter of the activist movement seeking to end U.S. military aid to Israel and cast Israeli actions in Gaza as a genocide, the ADL has assertively involved itself in hot-button debates about where to draw the line on free speech. The group says it wants to protect Jewish students from harassment and threatening behavior from pro-Palestinian protests. As part of that mission, it’s been adversarial with universities, accusing administrators of failing to stand up to antisemitism and putting out a contentious “report card” grading schools on their response to it.

But through Williams and his team, the organization has also been trying to better understand what exactly is happening on campuses and why the situation there seems worse than in other contexts. An ADL-sponsored study by a University of California, Irvine professor concluded that increased antisemitism on campus is found where there are fewer allies on campus — and not necessarily where there are more antisemites or where there’s a campus chapter of Students for Justice in Palestine.

“There’s more tacit allowance for antisemitism in public because there are fewer bystanders who are willing or disposed to intervene,” Williams said. “The perceived social cost of it is much lower than elsewhere and that’s more predictive for us than the presence of an SJP on campus.”

Any perceived gaps between ADL’s messaging and its research findings can leave Williams’ program — and scholars it partners with — vulnerable to questioning and criticism. That’s partly the reason that many observers are viewing what he’s doing as daring and risky, even if they are supportive.

“There is a risk of blurring the line between advocacy and scholarship in a moment in which institutional credibility is low and society is very polarized and everything politicized,” said James Loeffler, a historian and the director of the Jewish studies program at Johns Hopkins University. “And then the research won’t be accepted — it will be seen as advancing a political point of view.”

Williams’ own career as a scholar might have gone in a different direction if he weren’t convinced of the pressing danger of recent antisemitism.

He completed his doctoral training as a behavioral social scientist at Stanford University in 2012, and after working on various research projects he ended up at the Orthodox Union. As the largest kosher certification agency in the world, the Orthodox Union generates millions of dollars in revenue, most of which is allocated to charitable causes. Williams crafted a data-driven research program to help the organization spend those funds more impactfully.

He had also long maintained an interest in the study of prejudice, which Williams traces in part to his uncommon family background: His paternal grandfather, a member of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, married a Sephardic Jewish woman from Morocco.

In 2019 Williams, who grew up in an observant Jewish family in Atlanta and had always been aware of how his background set him apart, encountered data showing that Americans were becoming less tolerant of difference. Two recent events underscored this finding: neo-Nazis marching in Charlottesville, Virginia, followed by the deadly attack the following year on Jewish worshippers in Pittsburgh.

After each of those events, the ADL sprung into action, tapping its roster of experts to explain the outbursts of violent antisemitism to the public. But in private conversations Williams was having with the group, one of the world’s most prominent organizations fighting hate and extremism was coming to a realization that would have been awkward to publicly acknowledge: It didn’t understand antisemitism or how to combat it nearly well enough. A new paradigm was needed.

“We were under-resourced when it came to actually thinking about antisemitism,” Williams said. “The ADL had sort of become more of a civil rights organization, and we started, especially after Charlottesville, realizing we need more resources on antisemitism. And the person who hired me was sort of like, ‘It’s bizarre that we don’t have this.’”

That person was Adam Neufeld, ADL’s chief operating officer, who “saw the need to develop new theories of change and test them empirically,” Williams said.

When the Center for Antisemitism Research was launched about two-and-half years ago, the name alone was enough to pique the attention of historians who study antisemitism and American Jewish history. In the initial decades after World War II, American Jewish groups, including the ADL, invested heavily in academic research into the sources of antisemitism.

“There was a sense back then that social science would be able to improve people’s lives — that humanity could be perfected by applying scientific research models to social problems,” said Pamela Nadell, a historian at American University and the author of the forthcoming book, “Antisemitism, an American Tradition.”

With the help of grants from Jewish groups, social psychologists, sociologists, and other scholars investigated how antisemitism was connected to totalitarianism, religion and other forms of racial and ethnic stereotyping. It was an organized attempt to understand the psyche of antisemites.

To that end, the ADL commissioned public opinion research hoping to understand the nature of bias — whether it was correlated, for example, to age or education.

Historians don’t really know why or when exactly the investment in such research ended, in part because the ADL has not yet made its archives especially accessible to scholars, at least compared to groups like the American Jewish Committee, the American Jewish Congress, and B’nai B’rith International, which have either handed off materials to a library or created their own open repository, in some cases even digitizing large parts of their collections.

According to Williams, the ADL’s research program petered out by the 1980s because the threat of antisemitism was seen as declining. “Most people generally had positive attitudes about Jews, incident rates were – by most accounts – much lower, the clamoring for real, tangible solutions was less,” he said.

At the time in the United States, the older the average person, the more likely they were to have antisemitic attitudes. There was no stronger demographic correlation than that of age and antisemitism, and a 1992 ADL study noted “the steady influx of younger, more tolerant Americans into the adult population” as the main factor driving declining antisemitism since 1964. It almost seemed like the country was aging out of the problem.

By 2014, in Williams’ telling, the kind of intense antisemitism that was thought to belong to the past was rearing its head once again and, eventually, accelerating so much that the ADL needed to revisit its old strategy around social science research.

“I would say that the major distinction is that we’re working on interventions more than describing the phenomenon,” Williams said, comparing his generation to the researchers of the post-World War II boom. “But, also, you can’t really do one without the other. We do stand on their shoulders.”

In responding to a press inquiry from JTA, the head of the ADL rejected the idea that the ADL founded the Center for Antisemitism Research out of a new or reawakened commitment.

“At ADL, we always have sought to ground our work in evidence and to shape our approaches based on research,” the group’s CEO, Jonathan Greenblatt, said in a written response to a series of questions. “We have been tracking antisemitism for decades, measuring attitudes and tracking incidents, and the insights gleaned from this work has helped to inform and shape policies and programs.”

But Greenblatt also acknowledged that recent events are forcing deep changes in the ADL.

“Nothing will ever be the same after 10/7,” he said. “And so, at ADL, it forced us to step back, look in the mirror and ask hard questions about how we reached this point — and what we are going to do differently in response.”

He continued, “In all honesty, I think every Jewish organization should be undertaking this kind of process in light of 10/7. For ADL, that meant taking a beat and examining our policies, evaluating our programs, endeavoring to measure the efficacy of our activities, and making hard decisions based on what we learn. The Center for Antisemitism Research has helped us to do this.”

The ADL’s introspection over the past few years has come amid growing criticism that mainstream approaches to fighting antisemitism aren’t working. And attacks on the ADL have come from both the right and the left.

The right has tended to blame the ADL for being too soft on the pro-Palestinian movement or for getting distracted from its core mission of defending Jews by progressive ideas about race and identity.

The ADL has also been affected by a distrust washing over society of legacy institutions, especially ones perceived by the right as having a left-wing bias. Founded in 2018, an organization called StopAntisemitism has positioned itself as a grassroots alternative to the establishment. Diving head first into the chaotic fray of social media, the group quickly amassed followers whom it sicced on a flurry of targets it accused of anti-Jewish and anti-Israel behavior.

In some regards, the mainstream has shifted to the right when it comes to fighting antisemitism. When Kenneth Marcus and the Brandeis Center for Human Rights Under Law began using aggressive legal tactics to fight antisemitism on college campuses years ago, many Jewish communal leaders rejected his efforts. Nowadays, they are far less likely to tell Marcus that his tactics are counterproductive or that he’s conflating criticism of Israel with antisemitism — instead, they are starting to partner with him on lawsuits.

Meanwhile, on the left, the ADL is often accused of caring about antisemitism mostly insofar as it can be used as a weapon for its pro-Israel advocacy. Rooted in the concept of intersectionality, the left argues that all forms of oppression are intertwined and therefore must be resisted in tandem. One result of that thinking is a critical focus on a certain type of rhetoric from the ADL — for example, when Greenblatt morally equated anti-Zionist groups with white supremacists or when he seemed to liken the Palestinian keffiyeh to the Nazi swastika, though he later clarified that he doesn’t think the keffiyeh is a hate symbol.

A group that exemplifies this critique is the Diaspora Alliance, which says that Jewish fears are being exploited for pro-Israel purposes at the expense of democratic norms protecting civil society and free speech. Emma Saltzberg, the group’s U.S. strategic campaigns director and a critic of the ADL, accuses Greenblatt of engaging in rhetoric that often undermines what she sees as the valuable expertise of the organization’s technical staff. She anticipates the same dynamic with the ADL’s new research agenda.

“I think it’s possible for good things to come out of research funded by actors with questionable political agendas,” Saltzberg said in an interview. “At the same time, Jonathan Greenblatt, ADL’s spokesperson and leader, has demonstrated consistent disregard for the organization’s own in-house experts, so academics who associate themselves with the organization do risk damage to their reputation as serious researchers.”

Williams defended Greenblatt, rejecting the notion that his public statements served to undermine the organization’s technical work. Williams said he works with a range of researchers who don’t agree with the ADL on everything and that he doesn’t lose sleep over people whose opposition to the group is intractable. He also said, however, that given how challenging Greenblatt’s job is, there’s always room for the ADL to improve.

“There’s absolutely work that we could do to acknowledge — just to give you one example — the reality that there are a lot of people who take up anti-Israel positions out of a real humanitarian commitment and dedication,” Williams said. “Acknowledge it, and at the same time present the evidence that many people are being hurt in ways that single them out as Jews because of presumed support, let alone overt support, for Israel.”

Williams’ work at ADL has only just begun, but he’s already reached one profound conclusion in the fight against antisemitism.

“The big takeaway,” he said, “is that we can actually reduce it.”

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