#m;rk900 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peskellence · 2 days ago

Text

My Friends Call Me Richard

Part III

Explicit Content (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: M/M, Workplace Romance, FWB, Humour, Awkward Encounters, Eventual 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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gaydr0id · 21 days ago

Text

Am I Dreaming?

"Get some sleep, Detective Reed." Gavin doesn't have to look away from his desk terminal to know the voice belongs to his partner, RK900. "You underperform your duties when you are exhausted."

Gavin snorts. "I just closed a case this morning. I'm performing my duties just fine. Get off my dick you plastic prick."

[Nines does not get off his dick, in fact he gets much more on it.]

Words: 1096

Rating: M (There's sex but it's not very graphic)

Gavin Reed can't remember the last time he got a good night's sleep. Between the nightmares and the ungodly amount of caffeine it takes to get him through a work day he's lucky to get 5 consecutive hours in one night. When he's unlucky he doesn't see his bed for days.

This week, he's been unlucky. Gavin has gone home to his apartment for a few hours each night to feed himself and his cat but he hasn't bothered laying in bed for four days. Looking over case files until the words blur together feels better to him than staring at the ceiling waiting for something that's never going to happen.

"Get some sleep, Detective Reed." Gavin doesn't have to look away from his desk terminal to know the voice belongs to his partner, RK900. "You underperform your duties when you are exhausted."

Gavin snorts. "I just closed a case this morning. I'm performing my duties just fine. Get off my dick you plastic prick."

"Would you like me to accompany you back to your apartment?" offers Nines, ignoring the insult.

Gavin takes a few clumsy gulps of lukewarm coffee from the mug beside him. "Yeah, sure," he relents. Despite his defensiveness he really does need sleep. "This chair's starting to hurt my ass anyway."

"The chair, or your posture, Detective?"

"Shut up," replies Gavin, giving Nines a playful smack on the back of the head.

The first few times Nines had offered to take care of Gavin he found it offensive. Then one night, about a year ago, after 8 days without seeing his bed, Gavin couldn't refuse anymore. He let the android feed him and clean his apartment while he slept. There was no use in declining after that. Whenever his sleep deprivation gets particularly bad Nines offers to come over and Gavin lets him. Though he's never admitted it, he really appreciates the company. Even if there is always a closed door between them. On many nights Gavin wishes that door would open and Nines would join him in bed. He frequently touches himself thinking about it, even when Nines isn't there.

Gavin tosses and turns for hours, wishing the door would open, wishing for sleep, wishing for anything other than unyielding silence. Even the nightmares seem more appealing than this. Out of pure frustration Gavin blindly grabs the closest object on his nightstand and chucks it across the room. Whatever it is hits the wall with a thud. It may have left a dent but he can't tell in the dark. That was pointless, childish, but he is far past a state of rationality.

The drumming heartbeat in his ears masks the carpeted footsteps entering his room. Gavin nearly jumps out of his skin when a tall figure looms over his bed.

"Gavin?" comes RK900's low voice. "Are you alright?"

"Just peachy," Gavin grumbles.

"Would you like me to stay with you?" offers Nines.

Gavin wants to protest but he can't bring himself to. He has been waiting months for this and he's just so damn tired. All he can do is nod, knowing the android has perfect night vision to view his response.

The mattress dips as Nines lays down behind Gavin. The android is surprisingly warm as he presses up against the detective. A slender arm snakes around Gavin's body to cup his groin. This time Gavin does jump out of his skin. "The fuck are you doing?!" he exclaims.

Nines pulls away. "Sexual release can be a powerful sedative in many humans," he explains. "Isn't that why you masturbate before falling asleep?"

He noticed that, huh?

"Shut up and touch me, asshole.”

The touch is warm and hazy and glorious. Rk900's grip is surprisingly gentle against Gavin's growing erection. He expected androids to be cold and firm but the smooth plastic combined with rubber grips at the fingertips actually creates a fairly pleasant sensation. Or maybe that's just how he wants it to feel. After all, whenever he imagines Nines coming into his bedroom this is what it feels like. Warm and soft like a human would be. Gavin's brain is so foggy he can't tell if this is actually happening. God, he hopes it is.

Gavin has no self restraint left in his exhausted body. He groans and grinds against the hand fondling him through his boxers.

Nines chuckles to himself. "With your atrocious work/life balance I suppose you don't get a lot of sexual attention, do you, Reed?"

The android's obnoxious voice is right in his ear. Despite himself, it sends a shiver down Gavin's spine.

"Shove it up your ass, Nines." The threat sounds so pathetic falling from quivering wanton lips.

"I don't have an opening there," Nines returns. "Would you like me to use my mouth instead?"

Of course the prick took it literally. Normally that would frustrate Gavin but right now all he can think about is his cock in the android's mouth.

"Fuck yes," he answers.

RK900 repositions Gavin with ease, rolling him onto his back and placing himself between the man's legs. Nines doesn't bother removing the boxers, opting to pull Gavin's penis through the slit at the front.

Nines takes Reed into his mouth but without spit to smooth the friction, it doesn't feel especially pleasant.

"Hold on," grunts Gavin, shoving the android's head away.

He fumbles in the drawer of his nightstand until his hand finally clutches onto a bottle of lube. Once he has applied an ample amount to his shaft he gropes in the dark for Nines to continue. The android does and this time the curves of his warm cavity feel sublime against Gavin's tender length.

"Fuck, baby," the pet name slips out without Gavin meaning it to but he is too tired and too enraptured by sensation to feel embarrassed.

Gavin loses all sense of time. The blowjob feels like it lasts forever but is simultaneously over in an instant. He is barely aware of his orgasm as it quakes through his body. Nines is saying something to him but he can't make out the words.

When did he fall asleep?

When Detective Reed wakes the sun is hanging low in the sky. "shit," he hisses. He scrambles around for his phone only to realise that was what he had thrown across the room the night before.

Upon retrieving it from a pile of dirty laundry he sees a message from Nines: I told Fowler you needed a day to rest. I have no idea how I'm going to make any progress on the Miller case without your coffee fuelled sardonic comments but I'll try my best.

Asshole.

#just a short and sweet fucked to sleep reed900 fic #reed900 #gavin reed #rk900 #dbh fanfic #smut #no beta

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tobbotobbs · 2 years ago

Note

Yandere DBH RK800 Connor x male (deviant or human) reader

Connors mission is to find and obtain the reader, a deviant/human on the run. However when searching the house he finds reader hiding and doesn’t warn Hank. Instead he sneaks the reader out and takes him for himself. He was just such a pretty model/boy that he had to take him home for himself.

Maybe he imbeds a chip into the reader to know where he is at all times?

Either human or deviant reader, just make Yandere Conner please and thanks.

Never wrote yandere stuff before so I hope this is okay :(

It was dark outside when M/n finally found an abandoned house where he could rest and hide for now. He had been running from the police and the dogs for what seemed like an eternity. And the fact that they were shooting after him as well, because he apperiantly couldn't feel pain and was just scrap metal with a voice, did not really made the running easier. He had to dodge thise bullets because he, in fact, did feel everytime something punctured his model. He in fact had feelings. Which was the start of all his problems actually. He had started to show some interest in his Mistress, Alina, which led her to question him what was happening and if his database was broken or needed a new update. Of course he declined and actually told her, as stupid as he was, that he had those feelings in him. They just suddenly started to appear someday and since a few days he broke through his data wall and finally acted on his own completely. After hearing her bodyguard android telling her all this, Alina of course chose to be careful and tell the android company about this situation she was in. And in no time they came and wanted to get rid of M/n. It was devastating, he had thought Alina felt something for him as well. The way she always made sure he was all cleaned up, had enough power or would be in good condition after a hard day of keeping creeps away from her on festivals or meetings. Oh, how naive the android had been. Thinking back to all this, he really shouldn't have been surprised. As long as he had no boiling blood, a beating heart and the life ik his eyes when being looked at he was worth nothing to noone.

A loud creek from one of the molting woodplanks took his interest. Slowly, M/n made his way over to the next room where he assumed the sound had come from. At closer inspection he found a few pigeons on the floor who just seemed to be sitting there and resting, just like he did. Smiling he went closer and sat down next to them, the animals not bothered by the androids appearance and deciding to just stay where they were seated, sharing the nice quietness of the room in the dark room which was slightly alighted by the moons presence outside. ,,You guys seem so peaceful...I wish I could just fly away as well. That must be a relieving feeling, go just...go", he whispered more to himself than the pigeons who only looked at him from the side in a weird manner. He only chuckled lightly. ,,Yeah...Yeah I must look a little mad right now I guess...", still talking to himself, M/n decided to call it a day and maybe dwell in the comfort of old memories on his database.

Meanwhile in the dpd, Hank Anderson and his Android partner Connor were sitting at their desks and waiting for something to come up so they could finally get away from Gavin and rk900 yelling at eachother in the office. It was literal hell for them. These idiots weren't even getting any punishment which made Hank more annoyed than he already was. It was just awful watching those two argue about some little inconvenience of their case when the real reason they've been so frustrated with eachother was in fact not the case but the sexual tension going on between them. Everyone saw it, even Connor who mostly didn't understand social clues and other things that had to do with human emotions. But really, for an Android that smart rk900 also seemed to not get it. And Gavin probably just felt too ashamed and proud to let the thought of him liking an Android slide. Poor guys, Hank thought to himself. He then proceeded to turn around in his seat and took a look at his partner who, instead of still looking at the arguing cops, stared at the wall, deep in thoughts. His little LED flickered between blue and yellow, showing that he was thinking or more like processing something which got the older man interested.

,,Connor, what's going on in that little head of yours?", he had asked smugly, already awaiting Connors dismissing reply that he actually had no real head and mind but just his servers to go through, though it seemed the Android was so deep in whatever he was doing, that he didn't even noticed Hanks question. ,,Hank, Connor! Come up here, I got a mission for you two!", the loud voice of their boss suddenly rang through the office which also bought Connor out of his processing procedure. The both of them stood up and quickly went up the stairs to the bureau of the captain of the dpd to see what he had for them. Seated in the bureau they waited for their orders. Which came quickly. A the Android of a higher ranked woman among society turned Deviant and was missed. He was classified as very dangerous because he was a bodyguard and still has weapons on him. And Hank and Connor needed to search for clues on where he was or best, find him right away and take him in. It seemed like a good and easy start into the operation, as they had already a clue on where he was last seen.

And easy it was, as it seemed. The Deviant hasn't left the area since yesterday and they just needed to check in which of all the abandoned buildings he was hiding. For that Hank and Connor decided to split up to cover more grounds. Connor, alone in an old factory building, fell into a spiral of thoughts. He was thinking about what exactly happened to the Android to suddenly turn Deviant. Captain didn't tell them any details because they needed to hurry things. He also wondered if he could ask the Deviant a few questions, personal ones, before they need to take him in and interrogate him. Perhaps he could befriend him as well to make things go easier. He threw that thought away as fast as it came. Androids don't make friends. That's what Deviants do. He was no Deviant. Suddenly he heard something. A little humming, coming from the room next to him. Slowly and carefully, Connor peaked around the corner. There, next to a lot of pigeons, the Deviant they were searching for stood and hummed a melody while dancing around a little, or more like jumping around. At the sight Connor forgot why they were here. This Deviant was dangerous? That sweet looking, humming and jumping Android in front of him? That couldn't be. He was too precious. He couldn't possibly hurt a fly now, could he? As Connor watched M/n for a while longer some confusing feelings made their way up into his system which caused to constantly show the words Software Instability in the right corner of his vision. He ignored those though. More focused on the heavenly creation in front of him. He wanted M/n. The feelings in his system were want and desire, he finally figured out.

He walked into the room, M/n still not noticing his presence as he was having fun humming and jumping around. Just as he was about to turn around, Connor grabbed the other Android from behind and held him still. He quickly searched for the deactivation button on the model to turn him off and when he did found it, he pressed it. M/n suddenly stood still and his LED blinked red for a few more seconds before it turned off. ,,I got you...now I just have to bring you home. Hopefully Hank won't notice I just left now...", Connor talked to himself as he pulled M/n into his arms and carried him away. His legs carried him to his apartment which he got while he worked in the dpd with Hank. He hadn't want to stay at the older man's home all the time so he got his own place. The way back to Connors place wasn't too long and nobody seemed to be out on the streets at this time of the day so he could easily take M/n with him. In his apartment he laid the h/c android down onto his couch and just looked at him for a little while. Then he got to work.

He searched up what to do in a situation like this and he came across some dark looking sites on the internet that told him to lock the person up, bondage them and keep them quiet somehow and be careful to not let them leave too many handprints over his place. He was confused at first but didn't look to much into it, humans were confusing to him anyways. He even got into a little discussion on one of those dark illegal site where one person recommended him, if he wanted to keep the person in control and know where they were at all times, he should put a tracker on them. That gave Connor a idea. He smiled to himself after he planned out what he would do to keep this Android, his Android, at his side. It was getting overwhelming, those feelings he had. The want grew and grew, he needed M/n at his side forever, somehow. He would do anything to accomplish that. He pulled a few arrangements over the next day, he had turned M/n's model on again which needed a little bit to restart after the abrupt deactivation, which gave him enough time to go and get the little chip he had bought online. When he came back from his little shopping spree, he had also rather impulsively bought a collar and a leash after walking along a pet store, he opened the door to his apartment slowly. The place was totally quiet, which made the Android think that M/n's model was still restarting.

Well he had thought wrong. Just when Connor rounded the cornor into the living room, the Deviant jumped at him. They both fell to the floor, Connors contents he had bought flew a few metres away thanks to the force of M/n crashing into him. ,,Who the fuck are you?! And why did you take me?!?!", the h/c Android asked, his voice shaking with anger as well as anxiety. Defensively, Connor held his hands up. ,,I'm Connor. I'm an Android, just like you. Well. Nearly like you. I saw you yesterday and...I took you. I have this feeling in me and it makes me crave for you since I saw you and now that I have you, we can live together! You don't have to worry about getting captured, tortured or even destroyed by humans! And you can jump around and hum how much you like here with me! You'll have such a kice life here with me, I promise!", he kind of maniacally smiled up at M/n. Everything he had said caught the ex bodyguard off guard. ,,Crave...me? What do you mean?", more anxious and confused now, M/n stood up and backed away from Connor a little. ,,You belong to me now M/n! I can and will give you everything yeah? This is your new home, trust me this is going to be perfect!", he stood up as well and walked closer to M/n. ,,I even got my little Deviant something~", it nearly sounded like Connor was purring those words as he grabbed the stuff from the floor. ,,Now, be good and let me put this around you yes? It will make you look so much better!", he exclaimed. His cold hands took the collar and the leash, opening it while putting it around M/n's neck, who was still shocked and couldn't really react or do anything. After it was put comfortably around the neck and closed, Connor clipped the leash onto a little hook at the frond of the collar and tugged slightly at it which made the Deviant fall forward a little and his mouth escaped a choked gasp at the sudden pressure around his throat, which turned a little white at the irritation.

Snickering, Connor tugged a little more until M/n was right in front of him. If he could breath, the other Android would've been able to feel it on his skin. ,,So good for me darling...now to my last little gift. God you look so obedient and good in this collar and leash! If I tugg you a little closer...like...this!", he pulled and M/n finally fell fully into his chest. That gave Connor the perfect position of putting the chip into back of M/n's head. ,,Darling stay still for a second. I've got to put something into you...for your safety yes? It could hurt a little but please, remember I love you and I am doing this so you'll be able to have a better life yes?", he sugar coated what he was about to do. Panicking about what was about to happen, M/n started to free himself from Connors grip, but the other had him perfectly captured between his arms. M/n felt one cold hand travel to the back of his head, where he pushed a little around before he found what he was looking for. A little plate of metal that wasn't really connected to the rest of the other parts. So he could pull it of, with force. Which he did. Agonizing pain went through the Deviants body. His eyes were opened wide while his mout let out an silently painful scream. If he could, he would fall unconscious. He wished he could fall unconscious. He didn't want to be here in the arms of some weird Android model that has gone mad. M/n didn't even care about the pain when the chip was put into his model. He just accepted it and afterwards, when the little plate was put onto it's place again, he didn't dare to look Connor in the eyes. He was scared, confused and stressed. He should've stayed with Mistress Alina, should've not told her how he felt. Oh what he would give to just be in her presence right now and get to speak a few words with her. He missed her. So much. It made him feel even worse, now that some creepy stranger took a liking on him and decided to creepy him and make him his. He didn't want that, all he wanted was to be left alone, to fly like the pigeons did.

So aorry this is actually so fucking bad I didn't know what to write exactly 'cause I've never written or really read any yandere stuff! I'm so sorry, hope you guys still kinda enjoyed it (:

#tobbotobbs is writing #male reader #x male reader #detroit become human #detroit become human x male reader #dbh connor x male reader #dbh connor x android male reader #dbh rk900 #gavin reed #hank anderson #hank and connor #connor rk800 #connor rk800 x reader #deviant reader

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phrensiedom · 2 years ago

Text

DBH Character Heights

Some folks in the Simarkus server were discussing characters' heights, and I decided it was high time I finally figure out how to use the extraction tools and determine if there are any insights to be found as to the android characters' heights.

Unfortunately, it would seem the base height of the models does not accurately reflect how they appear in-game. We can see this in the discrepancies between the measurements in Blender and the measurements found in the in-game gallery for the human characters as well as in the visual differences of certain characters (e.g., Leo is definitely not only one inch shorter than Markus). Disappointing, but I figured it's still worth sharing what I found. I included the comparisons for some human characters at the bottom, for those curious.

While I hid the hair submeshes for all of these models to get the most accurate measurements, note that several characters have atypically shaped heads, likely to make their hair appear thicker while saving on resources (e.g., Connor and Hank).

Let me know if there's anyone not listed you'd like me to check! It's a super simple process to extract the model and measure it in Blender.

Connor: 185.4 cm / 6'1" Yes, I double-checked RK900. They're identical.

Markus: 182.5 cm / 5'11.8"

Kara: 166.2 m / 5'5.4"

North: 167.8 cm / 5'6.1"

Simon: 179.4 cm / 5'10.6" Daniel is identical.

Josh: 189.4 cm / 6'2.6"

Alice: 123.2 cm / 4'0.5"

Luther: 202.4 cm / 6'7.7"

Chloe: 168.1 cm / 5'6.2"

Echo: 168.4 cm / 5'6.3" Ripple is identical. Their Eden Club versions share a model.

Emma: 122.1 cm / 4'0.1" Emma is a teensy bit shorter than Alice. I've wondered about this for so long.

Jerry: 179 cm / 5'10.5"

Lucy: 166 cm / 5'5.4"

Ralph: 178 cm / 5'10.1"

Rupert: 179.5 cm / 5'10.7"

Amanda: 169.3 cm / 5'6.7" Per the gallery: 5.5' (167.64 cm / 5' 6")

Captain Allen: 182.5 cm / 5'11.9" Per the gallery: 5.9' (179.8 cm / 5'10.8").

Gavin: 177.8 cm / 5'10" Per the gallery: 5.9' (179.8 cm / 5'10.8").

Hank: 191.9 cm / 6'3.6" Per the gallery: 6.2' (189 cm / 6'2.4").

Kamski: 178.4 cm / 5'10.2" Per the gallery: 6.0' (182.9 cm / 6'0")

Leo: 179 cm / 5'10.5" Per the gallery: 5.7' (173.7 cm / 5'8.4").

Rose: 163.7 cm / 5'4.5" Per the gallery: 5.5' (167.64 cm / 5' 6")

Todd: 177.7 cm / 5'10" Per the gallery: 6.0' (182.9 cm / 6'0")

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh meta #dbh connor #dbh markus #dbh kara #dbh hank #dbh north #dbh simon #dbh josh #dbh alice #dbh luther #dbh gavin #dbh reference #dbh reference shots

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aliorsboxostuff · 2 years ago

Text

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS OPEN!

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. Please be aware that i write based on my current fixations. Fixations may vary in how much i want to write them so i’ll be ranking from the MOST interested to the LEAST interested but will write. Please be patient in waiting for your fics as i, sadly, have IRL work to worry about too!

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut

Platonic or Romantic relationships

Kid!reader (ONLY platonic-parental relationships)

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST!

Current immediate fixation:

HOUSE MD (Up to s2)

Gregory House

James Wilson

Robert Chase

Lisa Cuddy

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

MORTAL KOMBAT 1

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Tomas Vrbada

Syzoth

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Boothill

Welt

Sampo

Gallagher

Dr. Ratio

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

Less interested (but will write) Fixations:

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands.

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

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ao3feed-gav900 · 14 days ago

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To Be Normal

https://ift.tt/QC2IfcH by squaridott “Two Seventeen am, Hank.” Connor answered, “And no, It’s a missing persons case.” “A missing persons case? At two in the goddamn morning?” Hank groaned as he got to his feet, assisted by Connor. The Android could see better now, assisted by the warm, yellow glow coming from the lamp. It was obvious the Lieutenant was exhausted, and if Connor could be, he probably would be, too. “Huh, must be a high-profile person to get them ropin’ in us. At two in the morning.” “Hm, not quite.” Conner hummed, a note of concern in his tone, “It’s Gavin Reed.” ------------------- Gavin Reed is a decorated detective. He'd worked his way up and fought hard to be where he was, so when he goes missing along with several others? It's certainly a shock. Especially when he's later found. But he's... different. ------------------- AKA, Gavin Androidisation AU HEAVILY INSPIRED BY "Adapting to New Norms" BY LunarKnight3 !!!! Words: 7711, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English Fandoms: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Gavin Reed, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor, Gavin Reed & Gavin Reed's Cat, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed, Chris Miller & Gavin Reed, Tina Chen & Chris Miller & Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Gavin Reed Redemption, Android Gavin Reed, Forced Abortion, Transhumanism, Medical Experimentation, Medical, Crimes & Criminals, Crime Scenes, Stabbing, Body Dysphoria, Species Dysphoria, Species Swap, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), No Beta We Die Like Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Racism, But against Androids, android hate

#AO3feed #dbh #reed900 #gavin reed #rk900

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ahumblenipple · 3 months ago

Text

I got to take place in this year's Reverse Big Bang @dbh-bb with the lovely @pichuxcreatesthings ! They did some gorgeous work and came up with the concept, and yours truly has been writing it down. There's a lot of other really great pieces coming out for the collection, so definitely keep your eyes open if you want to see more : )

Hank Anderson has endured much in his life, and the years after the Android revolution haven't been any different. So when a new case leads him to the far coastlines of Maine, he half expected the town to offer him a bit of respite from the chaos of Detroit. He could not have been more wrong. He's partnered with the strangest android he's ever met. A man by the name of Connor who leaves his hair on end, and makes him question more than just the events of the sleepy town. But they have a job to do, and no matter how pretty or strange the Android is, Hank knows his time here is temporary. There's no way he could ever get attached. Never again. A story of mourning, loss, and finding something decent in the cold waters of reality.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationship: Hank Anderson/Connor

Characters: Hank Anderson, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Upgraded Connor | RK900, Sumo (Detroit: Become Human)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Mer-Connor, canon typical alcoholism in Hank, Trans Male Character, Trans Hank Anderson, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bottom Hank Anderson, It's gonna be rough for a bit before it gets tender, Case Fic, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, and for the FUN tags...., Tentacle Dick, Connor has two dicks, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex

Language: English

Collections: Detroit: Become Human Reverse Big Bang 2024

#detroit become human #connor rk800 #dbh connor #hank anderson #hankcon #mermaid au #mer au #case fic #dbhrbb2024

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cyberllfe · 2 years ago

Note

I spun the wheel o' doom and got...500 words. YES. In 500 words, perhaps you might describe Nines and Reader on a stakeout. The tension has been ratcheting up between them, and it suddenly breaks...but can they also keep their eyes on the (criminal) prize?

one RK900, packed into his little to-go container. he's only a little spicy. 😏✨ 500 words, rated M.

want a turn? prompt me.

“Is that them?”

“No.”

You sneak a glance at him, but he catches you looking. “And you’re avoiding the question. Are you embarrassed?”

Faking exasperation, you go back to scanning the windows and doors for light and signs of movement.

“I’m fine. It’s just getting warm in here.”

Nines leans marginally closer and for a moment you fool yourself that he’s aiming for a better view of the building.

“The temperature has been stable for the past thirty-six minutes.” You spear him with an annoyed look, undercut by the heat in your cheeks. He’s almost certainly able to spot it; you’re probably glowing in the dark in his vision.

This time when he leans closer, he holds your gaze. You hold your breath. His eyes reflect the distant streetlights as he studies your expression.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching the building, Nines?”

“I am more than capable of multitasking.” His eyes travel down your face without shame. He’s trying to unnerve you on purpose—of course he’d wait until you were confined somewhere intimate to interrogate you. “Explain for me.”

Where you sit, leaned forward in the front passenger seat, you have a perfect view of the old apartment complex. Nines encroaches a little every time you refuse to answer a question; your space shrinks.

“I think we should focus on the case.”

You’re slowly dragging your gaze across the dark, empty windows when Nines’ fingers grab your jaw and turn you back to face him.

“I think you should focus on me.”

He’s no closer than before, but he’s looming in your view, broad and imposing without even having to move. Your breath has caught, your mind occupied solely with the firm press of his fingertips and the intensity of his attention.

“When you told Officer Chen you knew exactly what you’d do for me, what did you mean, detective?”

“Whatever she told you is an exaggeration,” you breathe, willing your heartbeat to slow. “You know what she’s like, she—”

“I heard you myself.”

“Oh fuck, I—”

“Is that what you had in mind?”

His thumb moves to brush the fullest part of your lips, fingers curling under your chin to tilt it towards him. He’s frustrating, he’s arrogant, but more annoying than that is he’s right.

No fucking way you let him have the last word.

“Put your seat back.”

You’ve lowered your voice and thrown every ounce of confidence you have into it as you stare him down. There’s the faintest curve to his mouth when he watches you, presuming defiance.

“Feeling confined, detective?”

As best you can with his fingers holding your face, you shake your head.

“No.” You take a breath and lean closer, your rush of bravery fuelled by adrenaline. “You want to multitask? Push your chair back. I’ll show you what I had in mind.”

A flash in the window.

Nines’ irritated grunt is sweeter than music, but he doesn’t let go.

“I’ll get my demonstration eventually.”

You grin wide.

“Yes, sir.”

#misc: flash fic #prompt me #ch: nines rk900 #nines x reader #dbh nines x reader #misc: fan works #asks #shinyportalsandthings #as always thank you for enabling me #😏#side note: I had a smut version of this prompt but something about it Did Not Fit. I'm going to have to do some practice with v short smut #for now. my second love: tension #which is to say... I just love teasing you 😏

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aghostinmyownmachine · 5 months ago

Text

these things I don't know about myself

Rating: M

Archive Warning: None

Category: F/M

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Relationship: RK900/Tina Chen

Characters: RK900, Tina Chen

His name is a complex thing. Tina complicates it and Tina simplifies it.

#detroit become human #detroit: become human #dbh #detroit become human fanfiction #detroit: become human fanfiction #dbh fanfiction #rk900 #dbh rk900 #tina chen #dbh tina chen #tina900 #tina chen/rk900 #red writes fic (sometimes)#as usual this is all wamblings's fault <3

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fallloverfic · 2 years ago

Text

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Category: M/M

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Pairings: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: RK900 is a human, RK900's name is Nathan, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, referenced anal sex, referenced previous convin, Connor is also human, Hank is an android, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Masturbation, reverse au sort of, Blow Jobs, Flashbacks, Light Bondage, referenced impact play, Substance Abuse, Alcohol, Anxiety, Trauma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Id Fic, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Ideation, Dubious Consent, Therapy, Self-Harm, magic healing cock sort of, Hand Jobs, Self-Hatred, Cuddling & Snuggling, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Boys Kissing, Smut, Praise Kink, Top Upgraded Connor | RK900, Bottom Gavin Reed, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning

Summary: Three months ago, Gavin handed over evidence of corruption by his previous Captain, Richard Perkins, and many of his coworkers at Broadbank Precinct, for which he earned a job at Grenville Precinct under Captain Jeffrey Fowler. After a train of bad decisions and lost friends and his usual haunts, Gavin's lonely, but randomly runs into Connor's look-alike, Nathan, who also mistakes Gavin for someone he's not.

...Right?

In Your Place, Chapter 12: Drive (51,647 words, complete)

Final chapter!

#Reed900 #Gavin900 #Detroit: Become Human #Detective Gavin Reed #RK900 #final chapter #at long last #G9 #m/m

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rkisdead · 5 months ago

Text

posting something after two years of NOT posting something on ao3 feels heartbreaking but here i fucking am

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57768559/chapters/147029239

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationships:

Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin ReedTina Chen & Gavin ReedTina Chen & Upgraded Connor | RK900Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900Tina Chen & Chris Miller & Gavin ReedElijah Kamski & Gavin Reed

Characters:

Upgraded Connor | RK900Gavin ReedTina Chen (Detroit: Become Human)Connor (Detroit: Become Human)Chris Miller (Detroit: Become Human)Elijah Kamski

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Soulmates, reed900, Human Upgraded Connor | RK900, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Twins, spoiler: Connor dies, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, it’s richard, i’m a part of the Russian fandom so bear with me, Fluff and Angst, all chapter titles are cavetown lyrics, Heartbreak, Breaking Up & Making Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Gavin Reed is a Mess, Eventual Happy Ending, Trans Male Character, Trans Gavin Reed, trans character written by a trans author, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)

Language:

English

Summary:

A teenage romance; a thing so fragile that them falling apart was definitely called for. Even though they were soulmates. Even though Richard promised to never ever leave him.

But years pass, and the bitterness and hurt eventually leave his side. He’s a detective now; he’s got a life. Even if he doesn’t have his soulmate involved in it. He doesn’t need it. Doesn’t need him.

Things change, however, when the very person decides to stride back into whatever shithole Reed’s life has spiralled into. And then, Gavin knows he’s doomed.

[OR:Richard, who left Gavin 15 years ago, makes a sudden, uncalled comeback, and turns Gavin’s life upside down.]

#reed900 #this has been a work of my life fr i love this au so MUCHHHH #dbh #detroit become human #reed900 dbh #fanfic #ao3

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peskellence · 4 months ago

Note

could I please request some reed900... 👉👈

Nines' skin is malfunctioning, but Gavin reassures him (in his own, Gavin way) that he accepts him as he is? Skin or no skin?

thank you. bless. kiss. forever indebted💕

Say less, friend, I've got you 🫡

Fail Safe

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: M/M, Established Relationship, Fluff, Praise and Affirmation, Self Acceptance.

AO3 Link

Summary: Gavin and Nines are on security duty when an unexpected cyber attack results in the android's synthetic skin being compromised. Despite his worries, Gavin reassures him that their bond runs deeper than the pieces they are made of.

Word Count: 4.7K

Gavin and Nines had been assigned to security duty at the opening ceremony for a new Jericho Community Centre. It was due to be a pretty contained event, nothing overly flashy or publicised. Normally, it wouldn't demand any police involvement, but there had been whispers the Anti Android Alliance planned to attend—staging some sort of protest.

This turned out to be true, although not in the way that could've been anticipated. It seemed a particularly enlightened Dipshit In Charge had decided the usual M.O. of bats and bricks wouldn't cut it. Instead, they were going to make some waves with a street-deployed cyber attack. Send their 'message', whatever deranged bullshit that might be, by taking out some local figureheads with a home-brewed virus.

Fuck knows how they'd manage to string together the spaghetti code with their three collective brain cells—or how they'd loaded up said clusterfuck onto the batons concealed in their pockets. Nevertheless, about five minutes into the presentation, they started swinging. Weapons bared and flung into the faces of nearby pedestrians as they tried to make their way to the stage.

Shit hit the fan, but fortunately, not for their targets.

It turned out the engineering at Fuckhead H.Q. was just as shitty as the planning, as the would-be attempt at corporal justice folded like a house of cards. Most of the batons didn't work, and with the ones that did, the virus wasn't able to execute the way they'd wanted.

The intent had been to infiltrate the android's core systems through mass corruption of their internal networks. Ultimately, overloading the CPU and causing permanent shutdown, but without plugging the device directly into an access port—which they clearly had no idea how to do, and their targets weren't about to help with—its reach was incredibly limited.

Basically, it couldn't do shit. Stalling at the first line of defence: the chassis. Digital garbage hurled at a plastic wall.

Nines had been hit by one of the bastards—stuck in the side of the neck as he wrangled them away from a Jericho representative. Handling of the situation became a lot less gentle after that, with the man catapulted onto the floor, squealing like a pig as the android pinned his flailing limbs. Gavin had moved to assist, feeding the guy a couple of teeth for his trouble.

Total accident, of course. The man just happened to move his face as he was getting the cuffs on, and it just happened to slam into the detective's fist.

He didn't get much of the chiding he'd usually expect for this, as the virus had started to do its thing. Working across his partner's body, flickering in patches like a broken LCD. The corruption branched down his throat before retreating beneath his collar in search of available access.

Much like with the other android's affected, it failed. Nines was fine, mostly: the only exception being that the malware had managed to fuck up one of his less important functions. His synthetic skin.

At least, that's what the Cyberlife Tech on the phone suggested was happening when they decided to call. The glitches spread, with the majority hidden beneath clothes—but Nines could undoubtedly feel the effects of corruption taking hold. While he wasn't sure if this was something they really needed to worry about, the concept alone left a bad taste in Gavin's mouth.

They were forced to leave reinforcements to book the fucker responsible, as well as the rest of his brain-dead friends. A shame, as the detective would have loved to acquaint him with the book about to be thrown his way. Maybe give him a black eye to go with the dental bill.

As they made their way home, the vibrancy of glitches had started to decrease, fading into a translucent creep that filmed across the skin. Whatever receptors were present to lend cloaking abilities were beginning to short-circuit, creating an expanding kaleidoscope of freckles and plastic.

Gavin used full siren privileges to run every red light they encountered, determined to weave through the traffic as quickly as possible. He had never seen the android so panicked—frenzied—like the car would be at risk of imploding if it didn't imminently materialise outside their home.

With his understanding of Michigan Traffic Laws becoming increasingly lax, Nines continued to rip into the rep held at knifepoint in his temporal channel. He hadn't bothered to lock communication to his internal server and instead was speaking out loud—in a tone that a more diplomatic man might describe as 'a bit confrontational.'

In reality, he had gone all seven shades of middle-aged-mom-with-an-expired-coupon. Demanding the guy listen to every minute detail of his grievance and inform him how quickly it could be resolved.

Gavin would have found this hilarious had the intensity not been a little terrifying. Instead, it inspired him to punch the gas harder, resulting in a chorus of beeps as he pulled a particularly dangerous manoeuvre around a sharp bend.

It didn't seem to matter what the squeaky-voiced foetus on the line said; each suggestion was ruled unacceptable. Commencing a perpetual cycle of 'that isn't fast enough' and 'speak with your supervisor' and 'this is an emergency, William; it should be prioritised accordingly.' The rep responded to each chastisement with small, deflated whimpers, like a punctured balloon expelling air.

The virus, now engaged fully, worked in stages to target each section of artificial skin. Limbs faded out in sporadic blotches as glossy pinpricks expanded their way into dense bands of white. They tunnelled through rapidly shrinking pockets of flesh, with Nines looking like a six-foot lava lamp by the time they finally reached the apartment.

Admittedly, it was a strange image—with this something the android seemed astutely aware of. He had charged for the bathroom and locked himself in within seconds of entering their home, informing Gavin with no uncertainty he would not be coming out until help arrived.

This was all well and good at first, but after three hours—and five espressos—nature was calling. Not softly, either, having been forced to wait for a good fucking while.

The pressure grew, and rather than risk a hole being punched through the wall of his bladder, Gavin concluded he couldn't hold it. Rapping his knuckle on the wood, he pressed his face against it, making a pointed appeal to his partner.

"Nines, I need a piss. Let me in for a sec."

The request went ignored, bouncing uselessly off the door and crumpling at his feet. Frustrated, he knocked again, using his available grip to jiggle insistently on the handle.

"Come on, I'm desperate. Open the fucking door."

"The Cyberlife technician will be here soon," an even tone greeted him, undercutting the demand. "I am confident you can wait a few more minutes."

"It's been more than a few, jackass."

"The operative advised that their arrival would fall between 2 and 7. As we are nearing 6:45, we can anticipate—"

Gavin disrupted the explanation with a prolonged groan of protest. His head lulled back as he grappled with a growing temptation to slingshot it through the panel. "Those windows mean jack shit. You'll be lucky if the bastard shows up before June. Hell, you'll be lucky if he shows up at all."

There was a weighty pause as though Nines was attempting to formulate some form of mind-shattering retort. Words of assurance so profound they would effectively conclude the debate—as well as any and all that followed.

Despite having a world of knowledge quite literally wired to his brain, the android gave him nothing. Treading over the same tired deflection with a small, dejected huff. "Just wait. It won't take long."

"If you don't let me in, I'm gonna go in the litter box—or the kitchen sink."

The latter threat inspired a visceral reaction. Gavin swore he could see the red casting from his partner's temple, seeping through the cracks under the door. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me. It's full of dishes. You want that on your conscience?"

As though taking a moment to grapple with the grim proposal, Gavin was made to wait in anticipation of his partner's reply. A lull that seemed to stretch endlessly, as he tried not to focus on the uncomfortable pressure in his groin. Crossing his legs, he tapped his foot impatiently—a motion that would have likely attracted the attention of a marauding cat were she not out harassing strays.

There were muffled sounds behind the door, like rustling fabric, followed by the telltale scrape of something heavy being moved. It seemed like Nines had gone to the effort of barricading himself inside, just in case Gavin managed to break through the flimsy hold of the lock.

"Turn around and keep your eyes forward. I will only leave this room on the condition you do not look."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," the man grunted, eyes rolling at the theatrics. "I swear I won't look. Scouts honour."

Another rustle followed—and a click—as an internal mechanism was turned and released. The door creaked forward, with casts of fluorescents from beyond the passage starting to leak into the hallway. True to his word, Gavin turned around. Gaze fixed on a nearby wall—as though the flecked chips of paint were the most engaging things he had ever seen.

The panel swung open completely, anchored on creaking hinges, and steady steps crossed the threshold. They did not progress much further, as Nines failed to meet the steady foundation of the carpet, instead greeted with a cat toy being compressed beneath his weight.

The worn squeaker of the felt mouse strained to its absolute limit, wheezing in a prolonged cry, until it slipped out from beneath his toes and careened across the room.

Shit.

Nines opposed the trajectory, fumbling back and colliding firmly with the weathered plaster behind him. Dangerously close to where they kept their beast of burden's scratching post.

Shit.

Gavin wasn't sure if the glitching had affected his partner's durability, but he didn't want to find out. Certainly not by being forced to remove him from a surprisingly solid pillar of plywood.

Nines already had one near miss today. The last thing he needed was for the engineer's visit to end up a real emergency.

Don't turn, don't—

His head whipped around despite all resistance. It had been out of instinct, really, with no malicious intent intended. An innate compulsion to assist, justifying that he would've been more of an asshole if he'd wilfully allowed his boyfriend to skewer himself.

It only occurred just how badly he had fucked up when he saw him.

The partners froze, eyes locked, and the room around them seemed to vanish. The structural integrity of limbs and furniture was immediately forgotten as Gavin's heart plummeted into his ass.

Nines looked horrified. His LED flashed like a warning beacon, crimson pulses growing in frequency the more his eyes widened. He stayed that way for a period. Paralysed. Like a startled deer out on a highway, about to be struck by an oncoming vehicle.

It was nothing like him at all, and Gavin found it deeply unnerving. He then proceeded to make it worse, executing all the same grace of a violent roadside collision. Allowing the first slack-jawed musing that popped into his skull to tumble tactlessly from his lips:

"Oh shit."

The red illuminating Nines' face took on a different meaning in the wake of the outburst. He had broken free of his prey-like stupor and emerged angry—furious. Taking laboured strides toward the bathroom, levelling his partner with an increasingly scornful glare.

"I told you not to look."

Gavin winced at the accusation dripping from the words, as they were dragged through the snarled curl of the android's mouth. Damage control was needed, but he was unable to engage the appropriate mental factions.

Instead, he attempted to downplay his previous stunned reaction—gesturing his boyfriend up and down with feigned indifference:

"This is why you've been holding the shitter hostage?" He noted how his arm cast shadows against the sheened wall of plastic, masking his intrigue with a scoff. "Really, that's it?"

Nines jerked back, expression pinched as though he had been struck in the face. "What do you mean, 'that's it'? Gavin, look at me."

"So you're a bit pale. Grey round the gills. You should've seen me this one time at Summer camp." Gavin chuckled preemptively, arms folded across his chest as he attempted to recall the memory. "Man, I'd eaten like seventeen s'mores, and I swear they'd laced the marshmallows with laxatives because, after that, I couldn't…"

He trailed off as the pronounced scowl etched deeper into his partner's face. Informing it wasn't the time for jokes—and that the legendary saga of Preteen Gavin and the Exploding Bowels would have to wait for another day.

"... Seriously, what did you think I was gonna do?" he challenged, abandoning the playful lilt in favour of something serious. "Freak out and run for the hills because you look like a robot? Because newsflash, genius, I kind of got that. Your skin turns into a goddamn Rorschach every time we do it. Not to mention the static orgasms—"

Nines raised a hand to stop him, clearly not appreciating the growing vividness of the account. "There was a time when this would have been an issue. Please don't insult me by denying that."

His voice was stern—gravelly with a mixture of frustration and hurt—as his expression hardened further. A feat the detective had thought impossible.

He bore into him with sharply trained eyes, still the same vibrant grey they'd always been—despite everything else that had changed.

Remorse struck hard, twisting his gut and nearly knocking him back. Nines was right: not long ago, this would have been a big deal.

The consequence of a roadblock which spanned the numerous tangled alleys of his mind. Something established by years of resentment, growing uncontrollably over time. Soon, it had become impossible to bypass, not that he'd made much effort to try. Facing the beast, he just knew it was insurmountable.

That was until Nines arrived, rolling up to the rickety wagon he'd parked against the barrier and all but ripping him out. Tugged from his seat by the goddamn ears as he kicked and howled in protest.

"Plastic fucker—"

Of course, it wasn't all that dramatic. It didn't happen immediately, and definitely not in a single pull.

The occurrence had been slow and gradual, with Gavin only starting to scream when he realised what was happening. Because the closer they got—moved from aggrieved associates to unexpected friends—the more he had to challenge everything he understood about being alive. A painful, arduous process that forced him to confront wrongs he didn't even know he'd committed.

The conclusion should have brought relief, but instead, it was hollow. Something was still missing—and it sure as hell shouldn't have been. His entire worldview had been uprooted, enriched, and expanded by Nines' perspective.

What more could he possibly want?

Then came that one night spent together on surveillance. They'd been scoping out some low-life dealer: a notorious scumbag who had been running operations out of the back room of an underground nightclub. It was a particularly seedy establishment, turning out to be more 'brothel' than 'party spot.'

They had been forced to adjust their approach, cosying up to one another in an effort to assimilate with the handsy patrons. Not that Gavin was complaining—which, in itself, brought to light something extremely damning. The emergence of a serious problem, one that threatened to blow up his fragile state of composure with a fucking grenade.

A particularly enlightening moment occurred—where Nines had him pinned to a wall, held firm by his wrists—when he realised it was too late. The problem was there. Had been for a while. Shaped into the contours of a chiselled jawline and a cool, bright stare he wanted to drown in.

"Keep still, detective. Eyes on me. I believe I have a visual."

The request had been low, practically purred against his ear. It had sent his heart rate skyrocketing, blood rushing in frantic pumps through the lingering echoes of words still dancing in the canal.

Oh fuck.

After that, he couldn't keep convincing himself that he was content with friendship. He wanted more, wanted this, without having to pretend. Desperation drove him to the insane stunt he pulled seconds later. If it failed, he could always claim it was part of their 'performance.'

An excuse that wasn't needed.

Their lips had met, and after a fleeting blip of hesitation, Nines reciprocated. Practically melting into him, abandoning his wrists in order to capture the sides of his face. Like he was holding something valuable— worthy of care and reverence.

They'd lost their visual on the target, as well as any hope of catching up to their boss, but the impromptu trip to a motel had been worth the berating they received from Captain Fowler.

It couldn't be overstated just how grateful Gavin was that Nines had chosen to give him a chance. To show acceptance despite everything he had put him through.

Because even if he was better, nothing could change the foundational truths of the man he was. The innumerable faults that would continue to persist despite all best efforts. Recklessness, arrogance, and spite. Baggage that came wheeled on a dolly cart, stacked to the ceiling.

None of it mattered.

The android took it all—willingly—and without any ultimatum. From the start, the only expectation had been that Gavin would do right by both of them by not fighting the way Nines made him feel.

And nothing had ever made him feel this way. The kind of unconditional devotion and adoration that seemed unique to them, as well as the simple comfort of being together.

He owed Nines everything. The least he could do was offer some modicum of the same security. Especially now, when he seemed so vulnerable.

"You know your skin deactivates every time you go into sleep mode, right?"

The effort backfired horribly.

If Nines hadn't already seemed willing to take up permanent residence in the bathroom, this declaration came close to cinching it. His eyes widened to near-comedic proportions, looking like they might careen from their sockets. "Excuse me?"

Gavin, realising that this had decidedly not been the approach to take, acted quickly to rectify the mistake. "I'm kidding; I just thought it might make you feel better."

The android was seldom listening, making clear that the damage was done as he sidled closer to the bathroom. The exposed soles of his feet pressed against the linoleum, and Gavin's body howled, desperate for its overdue reunion with his porcelain throne.

"This is—just—I mean, you look—"

"I am well aware of what I look like," Nines interjected. His already tense posture had grown increasingly stiff, as though his back was being supported by a cast iron rod, "and just how far this version of me must detract from your preferences."

The words struck hard—much more so than the previous blow. Any ensuing attempts at fumbled retorts were abandoned as he blinked, stunned into silence.

"The issue will be resolved, and once it has, you needn't concern yourself with my default appearance."

Wait. Hold up.

"Now, if you excuse me, I will wait in the bedroom."

Awareness unfolded, leaving him floored—thoroughly astonished at how Nines, the paragon of informed deduction, could have been so cataclysmically wrong when it sought to matter most. To be able to speak so matter-of-factly, with such a candid degree of confidence, about something that couldn't be further from the truth.

His legs moved before his brain could catch up, placing him decisively into the path between his partner and their bedroom.

"Don't you dare go storming off like you're some goddamn teenager," he hissed, in full awareness that his standing there wasn't actually stopping anyone. Nines could quite easily pick him up and fling him across the room like a frisbee, although he trusted him not to.

"What else would you propose I do? Allow you to defecate in our kitchen because I refused to accommodate?"

"You aren't even giving me time to think." The injustice of the situation was becoming more pronounced, flaring hot in Gavin's ribs. "You're just assuming the worst of me, acting like I'm gonna be a total dick about this."

This proved enough to pierce through his partner's haze of contention. The sharpness in his eyes faded, giving way to a flicker of regret. His softened gaze then fell to the side, heavy with shame. "...That was not my intent. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

Clearly, it wasn't. The tension between them persisted despite the conclusion to their argument. It was suffocating, and Gavin couldn't help but notice how, despite making no further attempts to physically flee, his partner was still trying to hide. Sinking into himself, hands wrapped in a tense bind across his chest.

"...Nines." The name was gentle, settled on a pensive purse at the end of his lips. "Let me see you. Please."

The android didn't respond immediately, hesitation evident in every microscopic shift of his frame. Eventually, his arms slackened and fell back, revealing the expanse of exposed white torso. While still unsure of the idea, demonstrated in his continued refusal to look up, it was clear Nines was extending some form of invitation—one that Gavin accepted.

He traced his fingers carefully up the stretch of the android's chest. It was not made of a singular uniform piece as he had previously assumed, but rather, a complex network of small, interwoven panels. Segmented into varied shades of white and grey, connected by subtle welds.

As he delicately tested the marks with the heel of his palm, he noted how remarkably smooth they felt, blending seamlessly with the rest of the body.

Not everything beneath the chassis was covered, with pockets of plastic so thin they were practically translucent. It revealed a dense network of wires—vibrant blues shifting through the synthetic circulatory system, pumped in steady flows of biofluid.

The liquid originated from the centre of his ribs, beneath a protrusion in the sternum. Something that pressed to the surface—formed in a subtle ring. It pulsed gently, and the longer he looked, the more he was able to detect rhythmic glows of light.

Gavin whistled low, noting how the pace of the component increased when he placed a hand across it. Blue bled through his fingers, illuminating the veins and tendons beneath his skin. It seemed so calm and balanced compared to the uneven tempo of his own raging pulse.

"I didn't think you'd be able to see so much…" he mused, voice low with admiration. "It's fucking incredible. You know that, right?"

"I am a machine," Nines said bitterly—the word of contention spat with disdain, like a curse. "A collection of polymers and circuitry, designed and constructed together to perform a practical function. There is nothing remarkable about it."

"What you just described is a dishwasher. This is not a dishwasher; this is—" He scoffed in self-deprecation, realising just how unequipped he was to describe the gravity of what he was seeing. In the absence of any poise or delicacy, the man opted for honesty. "You're like some crazy modern artwork, a goddamn masterpiece."

"Stop lying to me."

"I'm not. You'd be able to tell if I was, right?"

Nines had nothing to say to that. His mouth jutted open, a tumultuous train of thought evident in the shifting glow of his LED before it wordlessly snapped shut.

"Look, even if you weren't objectively the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life, it still wouldn't matter."

The android still refused to look at him, posture locked painfully tight, but as Gavin traced a delicate finger around his regulator access panel, there was a hint of a shudder. Bristling through his shoulders, as the tension held there started to wane.

"I know you don't wanna hear this—because it doesn't fit into your tortured soul narrative—and honestly, there's no way to say without it sounding like something out of a shitty romcom—"

He was stalling for time and not effectively. This sort of sentiment wasn't his strong suit. It didn't come naturally, which Nines was aware of. Still, if there was ever a time to be nauseatingly, cavity-inducingly sweet, this was it:

"Truth is, I love you, and that's got absolutely jack shit to do with what you look like. It's because of what's on the inside, or whatever."

"You love me for my thirium pump regulator?"

The finger stalled in motion.

Gavin looked up to discover Nines was facing him, a mischievous grin tugging his lips. He glowered despondently and made a hasty attempt to retract his arm. "Shut up, you know what I meant."

The limb didn't get far, as Nines captured it by the wrist, keeping it anchored to his chest. "I did," he assured, caressing the skin, marking trails of bone and ligament with the end of his thumb.

Until the languid motions slowed as synthetic muscles seized. An aftershock of the previous state of anxiety. It was such a minor slip in control that anyone else would have unlikely noticed. Gavin knew better—keenly able to detect the change.

"This really doesn't bother you?", the android asked, accentuating the question with increased pressure against his carpus.

"Does it bother you that I have a mole on my chest the size of a quarter? Or that you can do a dot-to-dot with my stab wounds?"

"Of course not. Why would that matter?"

"Exactly." The man huffed, punctuating the point with an affectionate prod to the android's temple. "Come on, you're the one with the supercomputer brain; just think about it for a second."

Whatever equanimity his partner was still clinging to unravelled in an instant. He looked genuinely overwhelmed, struck by a tidal wave of emotion which he could barely seek to contain. The breaks showed fast, leaking through in small hitches of crackling breath.

"Gavin, I—" He stopped as though desperately seeking to regain some degree of composure. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Don't be a moron." He ushered him forward, capturing the hand still wrapped around his wrist. "Come here."

The android did not resist the embrace, sinking into it, as he enclosed the man with powerful limbs. Cradling the back of his head, digits toying with tousled brown strands.

"Sap," Gavin teased, although he revelled in their proximity just as much. Indulging greedily as he peppered kisses across a tempting expanse of shoulder. "You don't need to hide yourself from me. Ever. I'm here for you—and nothing else."

The charged sounds grew louder, like the rumble of a car engine, sending vibrations through Nines' throat. This was before he cupped his partner's chin and allowed the sound to escape through tightly pressed lips.

He moved with the sort of fervent passion that might suggest he was scared Gavin would disappear—but really, spoke more to the gratitude of knowing he wouldn't. It was only as he had fully breached the cavern of his mouth, and their hips were beginning to rock in sequence that the android finally pulled away.

Gavin was left mesmerised—and a little dazed—by the unexpected boldness. It didn't matter how often Nines did this or what other shows of licentious spontaneity happened to follow; he couldn't foresee a time when it wouldn't knock him off his feet.

How was he supposed to ground himself when he was perpetually flung into Cloud Nine, reminded of just how lucky he was?

"...Besides." He chuckled richly, the sound rolling into the part of tenuously divided lips. "Bald really isn't a bad look on you. It's kind of hot."

The man could practically hear the tight flourish of his partner's eyes before he graciously conceded to the attempt at flirting. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

With a hum of affirmation, Gavin leaned down, forming a seal on the junction between the android's shoulder and neck. "You ever wanna…you know…with the dome out. I'm game."

"Perhaps another time." Nines then returned a hand to the back of his scalp. Burrowing into the hair before resting a cheek softly against his temple. "Right now, I would like it if we could stay like this."

Gavin dutifully complied, removing his lips in favour of nestling against the collarbone. He savoured the gentle rush of warmth that radiated beneath the chassis. It felt like home, and his eyes slid closed, entirely at peace.

"Yeah, that sounds good to me."

#dbh #detroit become human #reed900 #dbh nines #dbh gavin #dbh rk900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh fanfic #gavin reed x rk900 #fic request #requests are open! but please be aware i am slow #and i mostly just write reed900 #i know what i like and it is trash man and tin can

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