#guidance system error

[drippingghoneyy]

Making Some Progress                                  -Viktor x Reader x Jayce

Summary: As Viktor's assistant, Viktor, Jayce and you have been working in a lab for many nights, pushing the boundaries of science and magic. The air thickens and the tension grows.

Genre/ Pairing: m/m/f, Jayvik x reader, dom!Viktor x sub! fem!Reader x switch!Jayce,

WARNINGS: mdni! nsfw, smut, pwp, poly sex, tension, teasing, dom!Viktor, sub! fem!Reader, switch! Jayce, lab sex, couch sex, threesome, handjob, voyeurism, praise kink, cuckolding, edging, dom/sub dynamics, piv, oral sex (m and f receiving), missionary, vag fingering, big dick Viktor, pet names, begging, friends-to-lovers, voice kink, obedience kink, stretching, nipple play, sharing, degradation, "Sir", overstimulation.. (lmk if I missed any!)

Word Count: 6.3k

Notes: This is my first writing…ever… So please give me any feedback! where could I do better? I thought there wasn't enough Jayvik smut, so I made my own…

If you find any spelling errors, no you didn't. If you don't like nsfw content, please don't read it!

You, as Viktor's devoted assistant, had been with them since the early days. The three of you had spent countless hours in this very lab, pushing the boundaries of science and magic.

The three of you have been set to work for many nights, the air crackling with anticipation. You could feel the tension building as you worked alongside Jayce, your fingers dancing over the delicate components, weaving the new configuration into the existing framework. All the while, Viktor hovered nearby, offering guidance and encouragement.

The hours ticked by, the lab lights flickering as the night grew old. The air grew thick with the scent of burnt metal and the faint ozone smell that accompanied powerful magical surges. You were acutely aware of Jayce's proximity, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as you both leaned in to examine the minutiae of your work. Each touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him, his eyes focused and intense.

You look over, studying Viktor as he works, his sharp features cast in shadow and light by the flickering screens. His hair, usually a wild mess of unruly curls, was now slightly slicked back with sweat. His eyes were a piercing amber, intense with concentration as he monitored the system's response. The lines on his face, a testament to countless nights of tireless research, had deepened, making him look both older and somehow more handsome.

The quiet stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall. You couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. You knew how much pressure he put on himself to ensure their work was perfect.

“Viktor, are you quite alright?" You couldn't help but ask as you noticed his furrowed brow and the intense concentration that had taken over his features. The blueprints scattered on the table between you whispered of secrets and innovations that could revolutionize the world of Hextech. The warm glow of the pendant lights danced off the metal surfaces, casting a serene ambiance over the cluttered lab.

Viktor's head snapped up, his eyes focusing on you after a brief moment. "Ah, yes, Y/N," he replied, his voice a touch deeper than usual, gruff with exhaustion, as he tapped the tip of his metal cane against the floor. "Just ensuring that the calibration of this device is flawless."

The cane was an extension of him, a testament to his ingenuity, a tool that defied the limitations of his damaged leg. "Jayce, would you be so kind as to fetch me the calibration matrix?"

Jayce nodded with a smirk, his eyes glancing from the blueprints to you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen that look before," he said, his voice low. "Viktor's mind is racing."

You couldn't help the flush that crept up your neck. You'd caught the way Jayce had emphasized 'racing', his eyes holding yours for a beat too long. Was he referring to the thrill of discovery or something more?

The air grew thicker with each passing second, the unspoken tension between you and Viktor palpable. His gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity behind his eyes. Only for a second, and he glanced away.

No.

That was nothing more than acknowledgment.

He acknowledged me.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a gentle command that sent shivers down your spine, "I've noticed that you've been particularly attentive to my work lately. Is there something on your mind?"

He had been stressed, you knew. The deadlines for the Hextech project were approaching, and the weight of the world's expectations seemed to rest heavily on his shoulders. The lab was his sanctuary, but even here, the whispers of failure lurked in the shadows.

You took a deep breath. "I…I just want to help, sir," you replied. "You and Jayce are doing something incredible here, and I want to be a part of it."

Viktor smiles, glancing at the work displayed in front of you. "You are an invaluable asset, Y/N," he says, his voice soft and smooth as this praise falls. But there is more to our work than meets the eye." He pauses, his gaze falling back to you. He smiles once again before turning.

Jayce returned with the matrix, tossing it casually to Viktor. "Here you go, old man," he teased, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease. The tension in the room lightened slightly, but the underlying current remained. Viktor caught the matrix with ease, his grip tightening around it.

"Thank you, Jayce," he said, his tone clipped. He turned to you, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks. "Y/N, would you be so kind as to assist me with these final adjustments?"

His request was not a question, but a gentle command. You nodded, stepping closer to him.

Viktor acknowledges your attentiveness and stresses the depth of their work. Despite Jayce's playful interruption, the atmosphere remains charged. You express your desire to help and assist Viktor with his task, moving closer to him at his request.

Together, you studied the complex matrix, your eyes darting over the numbers and symbols that danced before you. His scent, a blend of oil and metal, filled your nostrils as you leaned in closer, trying to make sense of the intricate calculations. Viktor's finger hovered over the paper, tracing a line of data that didn't quite add up. "Here," he said, his voice low and gruff with concentration. "This equation is incorrect."

Jayce sauntered over, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How did you catch that?" he asked, leaning over your shoulder.

Viktor's expression was one of mild annoyance at the interruption, but he replied evenly, "It's elementary, Jayce. The discrepancy in the power coefficients is glaringly obvious."

Jayce leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "I guess I'll leave the 'elementary' stuff to the professor," he quipped his tone teasing but his eyes gleaming with genuine respect for Viktor's intellect.

Viktor's gaze didn't waver from the matrix. "Your contributions are appreciated, Jayce, but my methods are my own," he replied, his voice firm. "Now, if you would be so kind as to rerun the simulation without the error, we might actually make some progress."

Jayce's smirk grew wider. "Alright, Viktor. Let's hope you're right," he said, sauntering back to his workstation. The room grew quiet again, filled only with the sound of the machines whirring and the occasional clank of metal on metal.

“But…what does it mean for us?" you said, abruptly, “If the equation runs correctly?”

Viktor's eyes snapped to yours, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to breathe. "It means," he began, his voice measured and deliberate, "that we've reached a new level of understanding." His hand hovered over the beginnings of the Hexcore as if he could feel the power surging within it, and then he looked at Jayce, a question in his eyes.

Jayce nodded, his smile widening slightly. "It means," he said, his voice low from across the room, "that the three of us have created something incredible together."

Viktor leaned closer to you and pointed at the matrix. "As I said, the mistake is here," he murmured, his finger landing precisely on the errant symbol. His proximity was intoxicating, and his confidence in his own abilities even more so. You nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept wandering.

"Tell me, what is wrong with this calculation? " His accent was heavy, and his speech was softer due to his proximity. Your heart raced as you swallowed hard. "It seems like there's a misplaced coefficient," you managed to reply, your voice a mere whisper. "It's affecting the output power of the device."

He nodded, his gaze flickering over to Jayce before returning to you. "Very good, Y/N," he said, his voice a warm caress. His hand slid gently down your side, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Jayce," he called out, his voice now a command. "I must admit, Y/N has proven to be quite the asset. Her insights and diligence have not gone unnoticed."

Jayce paused in his work, looking over with a grin that was both proud and mischievous. "Yeah," he said, his eyes sparkling, "she's a natural. Who knew she had such a knack for this stuff?".

Viktor's smile grew, a hint of pride in his voice. "Indeed," he said, his eyes lingering on you. "I believe she deserves some… recognition for her efforts."

Your heart thundered in your chest as the implication of his words sank in. This wasn't just professional praise; it almost seemed like something more. You watched as Jayce's grin grew into a knowing smile, his eyes flicking between you and Viktor, and back down again. Collecting his work.

Viktor's hand reached out again, his metal-tipped fingers brushing against your bare arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "You have a keen eye for detail, Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "It's been invaluable in our work."

His eyes searched yours, and you felt the intensity of his gaze. The praise was a warm balm to your soul, a gentle reminder that you belonged here, in this lab, with these two brilliant minds.

"Thank you, Sir," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady as you felt the blush spread across your cheeks. His smile grew wider, there seemed to be a hint of something in his gaze.

It's soft, dark.

Jayce, ever the observant one, took a step closer. "You know, Viktor," he said, his voice casual but the glint in his eyes anything but, "I think Y/N is entitled to a bit more praise than that, " He winked at you, and you felt the heat in your cheeks rise even higher.

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to formulate a coherent response, but all that came out was a nervous giggle. "I…I just want to do a good job," you stuttered, trying to shrug off the sudden attention. "It's nothing special."

Viktor's gaze sharpened his grip on the calibration matrix tightening. "Is that all you wish for, Y/N?" he asked his accent now giving his voice a deep, velvety purr. "To simply…do your job?"

You looked up at him, the amber of his eyes piercing through the haze of your hectic mind. "N-no," you managed to reply, your voice trembling. "But I don't want to distract you from your work."

He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. "You are not a distraction," he said, his voice firm. "You are an essential component of our work. Without you, we would not be where we are." His hand reached out, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Frozen.

He gives you a moment to pull away.

Thoughts going a million miles a minute.

Softly leaning into his touch, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His eyes searched yours, looking for confirmation, for consent. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. Viktor's expression softened, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"If this is something you wish to explore," he began, his voice low, His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of hesitation. You swallowed, your heart racing.

Jayce stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Only if you're comfortable, Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "And if you're up for it, we're more than willing to give you what you need."

You took a deep breath, your body trembling with anticipation. The air between the three of you was charged with an unspoken understanding. "I…I want to," you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips..

Viktor's smile grew, his eyes lighting up. He stepped closer, his cane clicking sharply against the floor. "Excellent," he said, leaning down, capturing your mouth in a kiss, both gentle and possessive.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The metal of his cane dug into your side, but you didn't care. You were lost in the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours.

Jayce watched for a moment before moving in, his hands reaching up to cup your face, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw. "Viktor's right," he murmured against your ear. "You're not just a distraction, you're a muse." He kissed you, his lips a stark contrast to Viktor's, insistent and demanding. You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

As your kisses grew more passionate, you felt a thrill at the thought of being watched by the two of them, of being the center of their attention. Viktor stepped back, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you with Jayce. He nodded, a silent command, and Jayce's hands began to wander, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your breasts.

"Jayce," you whispered, breaking the kiss. "I…I want to watch you too."

Jayce chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "As you wish," he murmured, his hands moving to the fastenings of his clothes.

He stripped away his shirt, revealing the defined muscles of his chest. His eyes never left yours as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. You watched, transfixed, as he took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly.

Viktor's gaze was intense as he watched Jayce, his desire clear. He reached out, his metal-tipped fingers tracing a line down Jayce's chest before wrapping around his erection. Jayce gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as Viktor began to stroke him in time with the rhythm of his movements.

"Now, my dear Y/N," Viktor said, his voice deep, he kissed Jayce, dominating the kiss with authority. "Let us see what awaits you, love."

He nods to Jayce, allowing him to pleasure himself freely before turning to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Strip, please" he ordered, his voice a low, velvety command that sent a shiver down your spine.

You complied, your trembling fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt, your eyes never leaving his. You felt Jayce's gaze on you, his eyes dark with desire as you revealed your body to them.

You stepped out of your shoes, your heart racing as you slid your pants down your legs, leaving you in only your underwear. Viktor's gaze was unyielding, his cane tapping impatiently against the floor as you stood before them, vulnerable and exposed.

"Everything, love" he murmured, his eyes raking over your form.

You took a deep breath, feeling the fabric of your bra and panties hugging your body. The set was black, the bra cups pushing your large breasts up. The panties were sheer, leaving little to the imagination, the lace tracing the contours of your ass cheeks. With trembling hands, you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

The act of undressing in front of them was a new experience, filled with a thrilling mix of excitement and vulnerability. You could feel their eyes on you, hungrily taking in every inch of your exposed skin, and it took all your resolve to keep your gaze from dropping to the floor. Instead, you focused on their faces: Jayce wore an expression of eager anticipation, while Viktor's demeanor was one of intense concentration.

Your breasts spilled free, the cool air of the lab causing your nipples to pebble under their heated gazes. The feeling of exposure was exhilarating, a thrill that sent your pulse racing and a blush creeping up your neck.

You couldn't find the words to express the emotions that bubbled within you, a potent mix of shyness and desire. You felt their eyes on you, Jayce's with a glint of mischief and Viktor's with a more intense, possessive hunger.

"Very good," Viktor murmured, stopping before you continued to your underwear, his eyes taking in every inch of your exposed flesh. He stepped closer, his cane tapping with each step. "Jayce, I believe it is time for us to show our appreciation."

Jayce grinned, his hand still moving leisurely up and down his length. "With pleasure," he said, stepping closer to you. His eyes never left your breasts as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to tease one of your nipples. You gasped, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

Viktor reached out, his hand sliding down your spine to cup your ass. His grip was firm, almost possessive. "You are exquisite, love," he said, his voice a soft growl. "So very beautiful." His thumb slid beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin. You squirmed, the anticipation of his touch making you wet.

As he felt the dampness, his eyes lit up with a predatory glint. "Ah," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You are quite eager for us." He turned to Jayce, his smile wide and triumphant. "It seems our little assistant is more than prepared for what we have planned."

Jayce chuckled, his eyes never leaving your exposed body. "Always eager to please, aren't you?" He leaned in, his mouth closing over your other nipple as he pinched the first, rolling it gently between his thumb and forefinger. The dual sensation was almost too much, your knees threatening to buckle.

Viktor's hand slipped into your panties, his fingers sliding through your folds to find your clit. He began to rub it with slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb pressing down firmly as he watched the pleasure build in your eyes. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So beautiful."

You moaned, your body responding to their touch, their dominance. Jayce's mouth left your breast, kissing a trail down to your navel, his tongue swirling around it before dipping lower, teasing the fabric of your panties.

With surprising gentleness, Jayce hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, his eyes holding yours. His touch was feather-light, but the promise of what was to come was anything but. He peeled them down slowly, inch by inch, before allowing you to step out of the wet pool of fabric.

Viktor's hand tightened around your waist, his voice a soft command in your ear. "Let's move this elsewhere, sweets," he said, his words a gentle rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He led you to the couch in the corner of the lab, the same couch where you had spent countless hours discussing theories and crunching numbers. But now, it felt different. It was a stage set for a different kind of exploration.

As you sat down, the plush fabric of the couch enveloped you. Viktor positioned himself in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. "It is not proper to keep a lady standing," he murmured a hint of amusement in his voice. The couch was a stark contrast to the cold metal and gleaming technology that surrounded them, offering a semblance of intimacy in the harsh, brightly lit room.

Viktor knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours. He placed his cane aside, his hands sliding up your legs.

"Are you certain, Y/N?" he asked, his voice thick with need. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way his pupils had dilated. You nodded, your cheeks aflame.

"I am,"

You whispered, the heat of your words hanging in the air as you stared into Viktor's eyes. The intensity of his gaze made your knees wobble, but you held firm, the need to feel his touch again overwhelming any shred of doubt.

Viktor's smile grew, a predatory light sparkling in his eyes. "Good," he said, his voice a velvet caress. He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. "You will not regret this decision, my sweet."

He slid his fingers through your folds, his touch gentle but insistent. You gasped as he found your clit, his thumb circling it with a precision that spoke of his mastery. His fingers slid lower, slipping inside you with ease. He began to move them in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the sound of your wetness mingling with the low, guttural noises that escaped your throat.

He watched you with a focused intensity, his eyes hooded and dark with desire. Every stroke was calculated, every touch designed to push you closer to the edge. Each thrust of his fingers was punctuated with a twirl of his thumb against your clit, sending sparks of electricity through your body.

Jayce's mouth found your neck, his teeth nipping gently as he sucked and licked. You arched your back, the dual sensations pushing you closer to the edge.

"Please..," you moaned, your voice a plea.

Viktor's smile grew darker, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He knew you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to let you fall. "Beg for it," he said, his voice a low command that sent another shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your breaths coming in short gasps. "P-please, Sir," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I need… I need more."

Viktor's eyes lit up with fierce joy at your words, the power dynamic between you two now crystal clear. "More?" he questioned, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder against your swollen bud. "You wish to be pleasured more?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. "I need… I need you to… please don't stop."

He chuckled a dark sound that sent a thrill through you. "As you wish," he murmured, "But you must be more specific, my dear. Tell me exactly what you want."

You looked up at him, your eyes glazed with lust. "Your mouth," you panted. "I want your mouth… there."

Viktor's smile grew wider, his teeth flashing white in the dim light of the lab. He leaned in, so close to where I needed him. I could almost cry… "You wish for me to taste you?"

You nodded frantically, your eyes closing. "Yes," you breathed. "Please, sir. Taste me."

With a groan, he obeyed, his mouth replacing his thumb. He licked and sucked at your clit, his tongue delving into your wetness with a hunger that left no doubt as to his enjoyment. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn't hold back the cries that spilled from your lips. Each stroke of his tongue sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body tightening around his fingers.

Jayce, ever the attentive lover, took advantage of your distraction, his mouth moving from your neck to capture one of your nipples, once again. He bit down gently, the slight pain mixing with the pleasure from Viktor's ministrations. Your moans grew louder, filling the room with the sweet symphony of your desire.

This was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The combination of their expert hands, their knowing touches and kisses, was overwhelming. You had always craved this kind of connection, this kind of intimacy, but had never allowed yourself to indulge. Now, with the two most brilliant men you knew worshiping your body, you felt like you were floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Jayce's cock was hot and heavy in your hand, the veins pulsing with the beat of his heart. You leaned in, your breath hot against his skin. He watched you with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breaths. You licked the tip, tasting the salty precum, and he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily.

Viktor watched with a hunger that matched your own, his own hand still working your clit with a precision that was both thrilling and terrifying. "Take him in, love," he whispered, his voice a soft command. "Show him how much you crave his attention."

You took Jayce's cock in your mouth, feeling him grow even harder. You sucked gently, your tongue swirling around the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum. His eyes widened and his grip on your hair tightened, a silent plea for more.

You obeyed, taking him deeper, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat. He groaned the sound melding with the wet sounds of your mouth working him.

Viktor watched, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Very good, love," he murmured, his own hand still working your clit with a maddening rhythm. "So eager to serve."

Jayce's whimpers grew louder, his hips thrusting slightly as he lost control. "Fuck, Y/N," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "That's so good."

Viktor's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features. "Are you close, love?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul.

You nodded, the tension in your body coiling tighter with every second. "Yes, please..," you gasped, your own pleasure building.

"Mm," Viktor murmured, his eyes darkening with desire. "Come for us, sweet girl." His words were a command, a promise, and a challenge all rolled into one.

Their combined efforts pushed you over the edge, and you shattered into a million pieces, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your orgasm a symphony of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

As the last tremors of your climax subsided, Viktor leaned back, his eyes filled with pride. "So beautiful," he murmured, his thumb still gently stroking your clit. "Such a Good Girl for us, love."

You panted, your cheeks flushed with the aftermath of your release.

Viktor sat back on his heels, watching you with a look of pure satisfaction. "You are exquisite, my dear," he murmured, his thumb still ghosting over your sensitive flesh. "Your responsiveness is… enchanting."

Jayce had moved to the edge of the couch, his hand moving faster now, his eyes glued to the sight of your body. "Vik," he gasped out, his voice tight with need. "I'm not gonna last much longer."

Viktor chuckled, a low, rich sound that seemed to resonate through the room. He leaned back, watching as Jayce's hand moved faster and faster, his eyes glazed with lust. "Always so eager, Jayce," he murmured, his own fingers sliding down to trace the crevice of your ass, teasing you gently. "But do not come yet."

Jayce groaned, his eyes flickering between you and Viktor. He knew he was close, but the desire to please was stronger. He slowed his pace, his hand tightening around his shaft as he fought for control. You watched him, your own desire mirroring his, the need to give him the same pleasure he had given you.

Viktor stood, his movements graceful despite the cane. He leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek. "Would you like to finish him, love?" he whispered, his voice a seductive invitation.

You nodded, eager to show your submission to both men. Jayce's eyes lit up with excitement, his grip on his cock faltering. Viktor's hand slipped away from your pussy, giving you room to move. You leaned over, taking Jayce in your mouth once again. You felt him quiver at the first touch of your tongue, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice strained. "Y/N, you're so…so good."

You took him deep, swirling your tongue around the head, feeling his cock pulse with every beat of his heart. Viktor's hand slid to the base of Jayce's shaft, his long fingers wrapping around him as he began to stroke in time with your movements. The room was filled with the sounds of wet sucking and skin on skin, the scent of arousal thick in the air.

Viktor's other hand reached out, tangling in your hair, guiding your movements. You could feel his dominance growing, his need to control the situation becoming more pronounced. You moaned around Jayce's cock, the sound vibrating through his shaft, making him groan even louder.

"Please, Sir," he breathed, his voice strained. "Can I… can I come?"

Viktor's eyes flicked to Jayce, his expression unreadable. With a regal nod, he said, "You may."

Jayce's breaths grew ragged, his hips bucking slightly as he approached the brink. "I'm…I'm gonna…"

Viktor's grip on your hair tightened. "Swallow," he ordered, his voice a dark, command.

Jayce's eyes rolled back in his head, his body tensing as he reached climax. You took his hot seed into your mouth, swallowing it eagerly. He groaned, his grip on your hair loosening as he slumped back against the couch, his chest heaving.

Viktor's gaze never left yours, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched the scene unfold. He leaned back, his gaze raking over your naked form with a possessive hunger.

"Your dedication to our work, and to us," he began, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate through the very air, "has been nothing short of extraordinary." His hand reached out, stroking the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "But now, it is my turn."

You nodded, your voice a mere whisper of agreement, the anticipation building within you like a coiled spring.

Viktor leaned back, his gaze never leaving yours. "Stay," he said, the command in his voice unmistakable. Jayce nodded, his eyes still glued to the two of you, his own need palpable.

Viktor turned his attention back to you softly smiling, his hand sliding down your body, tracing the curves of your waist and the dip of your hips before settling on your ass. His eyes roamed over you with the intensity of a scientist studying a rare specimen. "Your beauty is truly mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice a warm caress in the cool lab air.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear, "Are you absolutely certain this is what you wish for?" His question was a final checkpoint, a gentle reminder of the control you held in this moment of shared vulnerability. You nodded, your voice a breathless whisper of agreement.

"I want this, sir," you murmured, the words leaving your lips with a sense of urgency that seemed to echo in the quiet lab. Your heart was racing, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Viktor's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he nodded, a look of determination crossing his features. "Very well, love," he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

Jayce watched with rapt attention, his own desire palpable. He leaned back, his hand still idly playing with himself, his eyes never leaving the two of you.

Viktor's hand slid down, his fingertips brushing against the slickness of your folds. He circled your entrance, teasing, before sliding two fingers inside you. You gasped, your body responding immediately to his touch.

You felt your walls tightening around him, your body begging for more. "Please," you gasped, your voice a needy plea. "I need… I need you to fuck me."

Viktor's eyes darkened at your words, his desire for you now impossible to hide. He withdrew his fingers, and for a moment, you felt a pang of loss. But it was quickly replaced by excitement as he stood, his own need now clear. He unbuckled his trousers, his cock springing free, long and hard. His cock that truly captured your attention. It was thick and long, a testament to his size despite his lean frame. The sight of him made your stomach clench with want.

"As you wish, my love," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "But I must ensure you are adequately prepared for me." He stepped closer, his hand stroking himself slowly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Your body is so tight," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "But fear not, I will prepare you." He reached for a jar of lubricant, his movements deliberate and precise. He smeared it on his fingers before sliding them back inside you, stretching and preparing you for what was to come. The sensation was both thrilling and a little intimidating, but you knew you could trust him.

With a wicked smile, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I am quite… substantial," he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "But I will take my time. I want to feel every inch of you, to hear every moan and gasp as I claim you."

Jayce's eyes grew darker, his own need mirroring the desire in your eyes. He watched as Viktor slid three fingers into you, his thumb pressing against your clit. The sound of your moan filled the room, mingling with the steady throb of the arcane machinery. Viktor's fingers moved in and out of you, his thumb working in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you writhing on the couch.

"Look at me," he ordered his voice a gentle command that sent a fresh wave of heat through your body. You obeyed, meeting his gaze as he continued to prepare you for his possession. His eyes never left yours as he withdrew his fingers, the lubricant glistening on them. He reached down, guiding his cock to your entrance, the head of his shaft nudging at your slick folds. You held your breath, the anticipation unbearable.

With a single, powerful thrust, he claimed you, his cock filling you to the hilt. You gasped, your eyes widening at the sudden, delicious fullness. The pain was a sweet agony that made your toes curl.

Your moans filled the lab, mingling with the steady thrum of the machinery. Viktor's eyes never left yours, watching as your pupils dilated with pleasure. "So tight, my love," he murmured, his voice a deep growl of satisfaction.

He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm that had you clutching at the couch cushions. Each stroke sent a new wave of pleasure through your body, your muscles clenching around him, urging him deeper. The room spun around you, the only anchor the feel of his cock stretching you, filling you completely.

Jayce watched with a raptor's intensity, his hand moving faster as he stroked himself. "Vik," he breathed, his eyes locked on the two of you. "Let me see more."

Viktor's smile grew, his strokes becoming more deliberate. He reached down, his thumb brushing over your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You arched up, your nails digging into the couch, your moans growing louder.

"Sir, please," you begged, the words slipping from your lips like a mantra.

Viktor chuckled, the sound dark and thrilling. "Your desire is intoxicating," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, his cock still buried deep within you and kissed you. It was a gentle, claiming kiss, one that seemed to reach down into the very core of your being.

The room around you faded away until there were only the two of you, locked in this dance of power and passion. You felt every inch of Viktor, his dominance enveloping you as surely as his cock filled you. His strokes grew faster, more demanding, and you could feel your orgasm building again, a sensation that seemed to coil tight in your belly.

Jayce's hand tightened in your hair, his other hand stroking his own cock as he watched. "So fucking hot," he murmured, the words barely audible over your moans. "Look at her, Vik. Look at how much she wants it."

Viktor's strokes grew more powerful, his hips slamming into you with an urgency that was both thrilling and overwhelming. You felt yourself slipping, losing yourself in the sensation, but Jayce was there, his hand on your cheek, turning your face to his. He kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you as you moaned around the sound of your own pleasure.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm in the storm of sensation. "Just let go."

And you did. You let go, your body shattering around Viktor's cock, the sound of your climax echoing through the room. Viktor's eyes widened, his own release following swiftly behind, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he emptied himself.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms began to subside, the three of you lay tangled together on the couch, breathing heavily. Jayce's arms were wrapped around you both, holding you close as you both came down from the intense high of your shared pleasure. The room was still, save for the steady hum of the arcane machinery and the occasional clank of a loose gear.

Viktor was the first to break the silence, his voice a low rumble. "Your performance was… most satisfactory," he said, his hand stroking your back in a gentle, almost soothing manner. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or discomfort.

You couldn't help but smile at his formal choice of words, feeling a warm glow spread through you. "Thank you, Sir," you murmured, the endearment feeling natural on your tongue. You turned your head to look at Jayce, who was smiling down at you with an affectionate glint in his eyes.

Jayce leaned in to kiss you softly, his hand stroking your cheek. "You two are amazing together," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "I can't wait to see what we can all do together."

Viktor pulled out of you gently, his eyes never leaving yours. He helped you sit up, wrapping you in a warm embrace. "Indeed," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Our bond has grown stronger tonight."

The three of you dressed slowly, the mood in the lab now one of contentment and satisfaction. You couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that you had found your place among these two brilliant minds.

As you put your clothes back on, you noticed the way they both watched you, their eyes filled with something more than just lust. It was a look of possession, of claiming, but also of care and affection.

[heliosunny]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request Topaz for your mystery plant series? If you don't mind, of course! I really like your works!

MYSTERY PLANT

Yandere!Topaz x Reader

The bulb of the strange plant shuddered. You stepped back, watching as the thick, golden-hued vines unfurled from the pod, slithering along the damp earth like greedy fingers. The energy you had poured into it moments ago still hummed in the air, a faint, shimmering light pulsing from the petals. Then, with a final tremor, the bulb split open.

A figure emerged—limbs stretching, hair tumbling down. Her eyes locked onto yours, filled with a sharp intelligence that sent a chill down your spine.

“Ah…” Her voice was soft, musing, like someone waking from a pleasant dream. “So, you’re the one who gave me life?”

She took a step forward, bare feet pressing into the soil. The vines behind her coiled and pulsed, as if still connected to her, feeding her energy.

Her head tilted slightly. “Mmm… You’re quite the generous one, aren’t you? Giving me all this energy… It almost feels like a contract.”

Before you could step back, a soft touch grazed your wrist. You felt the energy between you shift, like invisible threads tangling, tightening.

“So tell me…” Her eyes gleamed, “How long do you plan to take responsibility for me?”

Numby appeared moments after Topaz, its small, round form emerging from the remnants of the bulb like a creature shaking off sleep. It let out a soft, inquisitive hum before rolling over to your feet, sniffing at the energy still lingering in the air.

Your brow furrowed. This… wasn’t supposed to happen.

Normally, when you used your energy to create artificial plants, there was only ever one spawn—one life form birthed from the process, no more, no less. It was a fixed rule, something you had confirmed through trial and error countless times. But now, standing before you, were two.

Topaz must have noticed your expression because she let out another small giggle, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she crouched down to stroke Numby’s head. “Surprised?”

“You shouldn’t exist like this,” you said plainly, eyes flicking between her and Numby. “There’s only ever one spawn per creation. Something about you is… different.”

Topaz hummed at that, tapping a finger to her chin in mock contemplation. “Different, huh?” A mischievous smile curled her lips as she straightened, stepping even closer to you. “Then maybe that just means I was meant to be special.”

She reached out again, fingers brushing against your wrist as if testing the connection between you two. Numby let out a small trill, nudging against your leg, its presence reinforcing the reality of the situation.

---

The streets buzzed with the usual hum of city life—voices overlapping, machinery whirring, advertisements flashing on massive holo-screens. It was nothing new to you, but for Topaz and Numby, it was an entirely different world.

Topaz walked beside you, taking everything in with calculating eyes. Numby, on the other hand, had taken to perching on her shoulder, its ears twitching at every unfamiliar sound. Occasionally, it would let out a small hum of interest, only for Topaz to pat its head in silent reassurance.

You had expected her to be overwhelmed. Most spawns, even the strongest ones, took time to adjust to the sheer density of artificial structures, the lack of natural energy in the air. But Topaz? She was completely unfazed.

“This place is noisy” she mused. Her eyes flicked to an overhead drone delivering packages across the skyline. “But it’s efficient.”

“You’re handling this better than I expected.”

“What, did you think I’d be clinging to you for guidance?”

You said nothing, and she laughed, her voice light but carrying that same undeniable confidence. “Relax, I’m adaptable. Besides, you’re here to show me the ropes, aren’t you?”

“Right. Come on.”

You led her through the city, pointing out the basics—the transport system, the automated shops, the information hubs. She absorbed it all quickly, asking the right questions at the right times, making it clear that she wasn’t just following along but learning. Numby, meanwhile, had discovered the joy of vending machines, bouncing in place every time a drink or snack was dispensed.

At some point, Topaz stopped in front of a large stock exchange board, watching the numbers flicker and shift in real time.

“This world runs on deals, doesn’t it?”

You nodded. “Money, contracts, trades—it’s all about value.”

Topaz tapped a finger against her lips, a slow smile forming. “Sounds familiar.” She turned to you, “Then I guess I’ll have to find my worth here, too.”

“Come on, teacher,” she teased. “Show me more.”

You weren’t sure whether you were guiding her through the city or walking straight into a deal you couldn’t back out of.

The day stretched on as you led Topaz and Numby through different parts of the city. She was sharp—far too sharp for someone who had only just been born from your energy. Each new concept you introduced was absorbed quickly, as if she had already been familiar with the mechanics of this world and was simply refreshing her memory.

She tested things, too. When you explained the transport system, she didn't just nod along—she insisted on navigating it herself. Within minutes, she had accessed the terminal, calculated the most efficient route, and stepped onto the train like she had done it a hundred times before.

Numby, on the other hand, was less concerned with efficiency and more concerned with fun. It had taken a particular interest in the moving walkways, rolling across them in sheer delight until Topaz had to pick it up with an amused sigh.

"You really shouldn't be learning this fast" you muttered as the train doors closed behind you.

Topaz turned to you with a playful smirk, resting an elbow on the safety bar. "Shouldn’t I? Or do you just not like how easily I’m catching up?"

You frowned. It wasn’t about pride—it was about how unnatural this was. Spawns always struggled to adjust, needing guidance, patience. Yet here she was, already blending into the world like she had always belonged.

"Don't think too hard about it," she added, leaning in just slightly. "Maybe I'm just special, remember?"

You let out a breath, watching as the city blurred past the windows. She wasn’t wrong.

After a few more stops, you reached the marketplace—an open plaza lined with vendors selling everything from high-tech gadgets to handmade crafts. It was one of the busiest areas in the city, a perfect place to see how Topaz handled crowds.

She thrived in it.

Where most newcomers hesitated at the overwhelming stimulation, she weaved through people effortlessly, stopping only when something caught her interest. A merchant showcasing valuable minerals? She analyzed them with a keen eye, even bargaining like she already knew the tricks of the trade. A food stall selling grilled skewers? She grabbed one without hesitation, offering you a bite with an easy grin.

"You should eat too," she said. "Gotta keep your energy up. Wouldn’t want you collapsing on me, would we?"

You took the skewer with a sigh, watching as she turned her attention to a nearby digital board displaying the latest economic trends.

"You seem really interested in all this business stuff."

"It’s just… familiar. Feels right, you know?"

Numby let out an affirming trill, rubbing against her cheek.

"Say," she mused, stepping closer, "you never did answer my question from earlier."

"Which one?"

"How long do you plan to take responsibility for me?"

Topaz stared at you. You had expected her to laugh it off, maybe tease you again—but instead, she simply tilted her head.

"Until someone chooses me" she echoed, voice slow, deliberate. "Or until I can live on my own."

You nodded. "That's the purpose of my role. I bring things like you into existence and support them until they can sustain themselves. It’s not about ownership—it’s about balance."

Numby let out a small hum, nestled against Topaz’s neck, but she barely reacted. Her focus was entirely on you.

"That’s an interesting perspective" she mused, taking a step closer. "But tell me—what if I don’t want to be chosen by someone else?"

"That’s not really up to me. Everyone finds their own path eventually."

Her fingers tapped against her arm in thought. "And if I decide that my path is you?"

"That’s not how this works, Topaz" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You were born from my energy, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay tied to me. You’re supposed to grow, adapt, and—"

"—and what?" she interrupted, stepping even closer. "Leave you behind?"

"You gave me life. You’ve shown me this world. And now you’re telling me that, at some point, I should just go?"

"That’s a flawed system" she finally said, crossing her arms. "If you bring things to life only to let them go, then what do you get out of it?"

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off with a knowing chuckle. "Let me guess—‘it’s not about getting something in return.’ Right?"

Topaz sighed, shaking her head. "You’re too selfless for your own good." Then, before you could react, she reached forward and grabbed your wrist.

"Fine," she said, squeezing just slightly. "If I have to prove I can sustain myself, I will. But don’t think for a second that means I’m going to walk away."

Topaz had already decided she wasn’t going anywhere.

The day had been routine—another cycle of creation, watching as new life formed and found their place in the world. You had always found a quiet satisfaction in it, knowing that your role was to guide and nurture until they could stand on their own.

Topaz had watched the process with a thoughtful expression, her sharp gaze analyzing every moment. She didn’t say much, but you could tell she was absorbing everything. Even Numby, who usually found more joy in simple pleasures, had been curiously observing the way you worked.

By evening, you were preparing to head back when the distant sound of alarms cut through the streets. Smoke curled into the sky, and without hesitation, you, Topaz, and Numby rushed toward the source.

The fire had engulfed a grand estate, flames licking at the ornate walls, threatening to reduce everything to ash. The city’s emergency forces were already responding, but there was too much damage spreading too quickly.

Without thinking, you leaped into action, using your abilities to create a barrier of plant life—moist vines and thick roots curling against the fire’s edges to slow its spread. Topaz, never one to stand idly by, took charge of organizing the efforts, directing people to safety.

And Numby—Numby was the true hero.

The small creature darted through the smoke, following the panicked cries of a trapped child. With incredible speed, it found its way inside and emerged moments later, the child clinging desperately to it. The sight of them, framed against the burning house, sent a wave of relief through the onlookers.

By the time the fire was under control, exhaustion had settled into your bones. But the gratitude on the faces of the family who owned the estate made it clear that your efforts had not gone unnoticed.

The patriarch of the family—a man of considerable wealth and influence—stepped forward, his expression grim yet grateful. "You saved my child. You saved us. Whatever you need, whatever is within my power, consider it yours."

You opened your mouth to refuse—after all, this wasn’t about rewards—but before you could speak, Topaz placed a hand on your shoulder, stepping forward with a confident smile.

"Actually," she said smoothly, "I do have a request."

The family turned their attention to her, intrigued. You, however, felt a sense of unease creep in.

"I want official recognition in this world. A place where I belong."

A silence fell over the group.

Topaz wasn’t just asking for a favor.

She was securing her place—permanently.

The head of the wealthy family exchanged glances with his wife, then nodded. “That is a reasonable request” he said. “We will make sure you are properly acknowledged.”

“Good.” Topaz’s fingers curled slightly against your shoulder, grounding herself. “And one more thing.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“I want to be registered with them,” she continued, glancing at you. “Not just as someone who exists in this world, but as someone under their care.”

You opened your mouth to object, but the patriarch simply nodded again. “That can be arranged. Given the circumstances, it would be fitting.”

Fitting? Fitting?!

You finally turned fully to Topaz, lowering your voice so only she could hear. “What are you doing?”

She smiled innocently. “What do you mean? Didn’t you say it yourself? You bring things like me to life, and you support us until we can live on our own.”

“That doesn’t mean tying yourself to me like this”

“You said I’d have to find my own path,” she murmured. “I just decided that my path is you.”

Numby let out a soft trill, as if agreeing.

Before you could protest further, the family’s legal aide approached, already drafting the paperwork. “If you’ll both provide identification, we can finalize this within the hour.”

Topaz tilted her head at you expectantly, waiting.

You could refuse. You could fight this.

But looking at her now, at the way her grip on you never loosened, at the way her presence had already begun to entwine with yours like it was always meant to be there…

She had no intention of letting you go.

When the contract was signed, Topaz beamed, her eyes shining with satisfaction. The rich family—grateful for the fire rescue—handled everything swiftly, securing her official residency papers, identification, and even setting her up with financial resources.

It should have been a relief. Instead, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

“This means I’m officially part of this world now” Topaz mused, stretching her arms with a pleased sigh. “No more uncertainties, no more temporary existence. You really are reliable, aren’t you?”

She turned to you, her gaze lingering just a second too long before she grinned. “Now, all that’s left is securing my future. I should get a job.”

The declaration caught you off guard. “A job?”

“Of course,” she replied easily. “You said it yourself—people here need to be able to support themselves, right? If I’m going to stay, I should learn how this world works firsthand.”

Over the next few days, Topaz threw herself into researching job opportunities. She poured over listings, asked you endless questions about different careers, and even dragged you to various workplaces to observe how things functioned.

She was meticulous, but more than that—she was determined.

It didn’t take long for her to settle on what she wanted.

“I’ve decided” she announced one evening, leaning against the table with a triumphant smirk. “I want to work in finance.”

The moment she set her sights on the industry, she moved quickly. The rich family pulled a few strings, arranging an interview for her at a prestigious firm. You thought she might need time to prepare, but Topaz approached the opportunity with an unsettling confidence.

“They’ll love me” she said with absolute certainty. “After all, I know exactly how to get what I want.”

And she did.

She aced the interview, securing a position almost immediately. The higher-ups were charmed by her charisma, her keen eye for opportunities, and—most of all—her aggressive approach to negotiations.

“I made quite the impression” she told you afterward, her eyes glinting with amusement. “The hiring manager said I was relentless. Can you believe that?”

You could.

You really, really could.

With a job now anchoring her to this world, Topaz’s presence in your life should have lessened. She should have become busier, more independent, more focused on her own path.

Instead, she became even more involved in yours.

She adapted quickly—too quickly. She learned how to balance her work while ensuring you remained within reach at all times. No matter how much time passed, no matter how late her shifts ran, she always made time to check in on you.

“Did you eat today?” she would ask, appearing at your doorstep unannounced. If you hesitated, even for a second, she’d already be pulling out pre-packaged meals—ones she had chosen for you.

“I heard you had a long day” she would say, messaging you before you even got the chance to tell her.

“I made sure you weren’t overworked” she’d mention casually, dropping hints that she knew more about your workplace than she should.

Everything had been moving so fast. Topaz’s job, her increasing presence in your life, the way she always seemed to anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. It was suffocating, but you convinced yourself that she was simply adapting to her new life.

That illusion shattered the night you found the hidden clause in the contract.

While cleaning, a stack of old documents caught your eye—the papers from when the rich family arranged Topaz’s residency. You skimmed through them absentmindedly, expecting nothing unusual.

Until you saw it.

A clause written in fine print, nearly imperceptible at first glance:

“The creator assumes responsibility for the subject’s well-being and longevity. Any attempts to abandon, neglect, or separate from the subject will result in automatic reinforcement of binding protocols.”

The contract wasn’t just about giving Topaz legal status—it was a binding agreement tying you to her indefinitely.

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

"You finally noticed, huh?"

Topaz’s voice was warm against your ear, dripping with amusement. Her grip tightened slightly, just enough to keep you in place.

“I was wondering when you’d find out.”

"Topaz… what did you do?"

She hummed, resting her chin on your shoulder. "Nothing too drastic. I just made sure you wouldn’t leave me behind."

"I knew you'd be hesitant," she continued, as if this was completely normal. "So I planned ahead. This world is unpredictable, after all. What if you decided I didn’t belong here? What if you thought I’d be fine on my own?"

Her fingers traced lazy patterns against your skin, her voice lowering to something almost dangerous.

"I couldn’t risk that, could I?"

You should run.

But when she turned you around, her eyes burning with possession, your body betrayed you—drawn into a kiss that sealed your fate.

Your breath came in shallow gasps. The weight of the revelation crushed you, and before you could react—before you could even think—Topaz’s arms tightened around your waist.

She was stronger than she looked.

"Let go" you choked out, trying to push against her hold, but she didn’t budge.

“Why are you fighting me?” she murmured, her voice soft, coaxing, as if she were gentling you instead of trapping you. “Didn’t I do everything right? I worked hard, I adapted, I made myself worthy of this world—worthy of you.”

Her fingers dug into your sides slightly, grounding you, keeping you from slipping away.

"That’s not the point, Topaz!" Your voice wavered, frustration and something dangerously close to fear creeping in. “You’re a kind person. You saved that child. You helped people. Why—why go this far? Why force me into this when I never even tried to abandon you?”

“Exactly,” she whispered. “You never tried to abandon me… yet.”

Her hands trailed slowly up your arms.

“But what about tomorrow? What about a year from now? What if one day, you wake up and decide you don’t need me anymore?”

“You create life, but you don’t keep it. Everything you bring into this world gets adopted, moved, taken away.”

“I refuse to be just another creation that slips through your fingers.”

You struggled harder, twisting in her grasp, but then—

Thud

Something heavy landed against your feet, pinning them down.

Numby.

Then, the creature had plopped its entire weight onto you, pressing firmly, restricting movement.

“Numby?”

It cooed, rubbing its head against your leg—but it didn’t move off you.

Topaz exhaled, pleased. “Good job, Numby.”

"You even got Numby involved in this?"

“Of course,” she said lightly. “Numby loves me. And Numby knows what’s best for me." She leaned in, her breath fanning against your cheek. "And what’s best for me… is you.”

"I won’t let you slip away."

Then, before you could protest, her lips descended on yours again.

You tried to move, but between her grip and Numby’s weight, you were utterly trapped.

The worst part?

Somewhere, deep down, beneath the shock and the fear—you kissed her back.

Your teeth sank into Topaz’s lower lip, hard enough to taste blood.

She let out a sharp breath, momentarily loosening her grip. You should have used that moment to push her away, to run—but you didn’t.

Because despite everything, part of you knew it was already too late. You weren’t going anywhere.

Topaz's tongue flicked out to taste the blood, a smirk forming as she gazed at you. “You still have fight in you” she murmured. “Good. I don’t want you to break too easily.”

Numby pressed more of its weight onto you, ensuring you wouldn’t try anything else. It cooed—as if this was just another routine moment.

You had little choice. Within days, you were packed up and moved to a new place.

It wasn’t just a different neighborhood—it was an entirely separate sector controlled by Topaz’s people. A district bustling with traders, enforcers, and business elites, where everything operated under the watchful eye of a single authority: Topaz.

It was clear you wouldn’t be able to escape. Not when every street had her people stationed, not when Numby would follow you everywhere, ensuring you never wandered too far.

And Topaz?

She was busy—so busy.

You watched from the sidelines, carefully observing as Topaz commanded her subordinates.

The room was grand, a luxurious office filled with data projections and financial reports, with enforcers and officials standing at attention.

She sat at the head of the table, completely in control.

“Profits are up by 12%, but our collection efficiency is still below expectations” one of the officers reported.

Topaz crossed her legs, fingers tapping against the polished desk. “Unacceptable.” Her voice was sharp, unwavering. “I don’t care if the clients have excuses. We don’t run a charity.”

No one dared to oppose her.

“Double the enforcement on delinquent accounts,” she continued smoothly. “And if they can’t pay, remind them what happens to those who waste my time.”

The enforcers nodded immediately, moving to execute her orders.

Even in her absence, her power was absolute.

After an entire day of watching her command, dictate, and control—after witnessing the sheer authority she wielded over her subordinates—you expected her to return home and carry that same presence with her.

But you were wrong.

The moment she stepped through the door, the aura of the ruthless executive vanished.

“Y/N~”

Her voice was warm, almost syrupy as she called out to you, and before you could fully react, she had already wrapped herself around you, arms winding tightly around your waist.

Numby cooed happily beside her, nuzzling against your leg as if this had become an established routine.

You stiffened, still unsure how to react to this softer version of her.

Topaz pressed herself closer, resting her head against your shoulder with a satisfied hum. "Mmm… finally home."

“You were just terrifying a few hours ago,” you muttered. “Ordering enforcers to hunt down late payments, making your subordinates tremble—”

“And now I’m here,” she interrupted, nuzzling against your neck, “where none of that matters. Just you, me, and Numby.”

“You’re the only one who gets this side of me.”

“…You’re not letting me go, are you?”

She laughed softly, her breath tickling your skin. “Never.”

Then, before you could process it, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Now,” she purred, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “why don’t you tell me how much you missed me?”

[vendetta-if]

Chapter 6 Part 3 + Major System Public Update! 🎉

Hello everyone! 👋 It's finally time for the public update! 😁 This update brings in 24K of new words, bringing Chapter 6 wordcount in total to 89.4K words and the total demo wordcount to 325.3K words! This update brings Chapter 6 to a neat close, which is important because to me, Chapter 6 is like the end of the first arc of the book. 

Not only that, but I have also added a few major coding functions with this update, namely, a skip chapter function, and an autosave and reload function. I'm aware that my demo is getting longer, so I assume a skip chapter function might  be a welcome addition. 

It took me a long time to plan and figure out how to implement these systems, but in the end, after a lot of personal testing, I have finally managed to make them work.

WARNING: It's highly advised that you either play from the beginning with clean saves (or try out the new skip chapter function). I messed with some of the old variables as well, including Santana's and Skylar's default relationship values. Do not reload the saves to avoid potential future errors.

What's to expect from the new update:

Dropping Rin off to their apartment (and maybe, if you've been a good boy/girl, you can get a little smooch 😘)

Have an angsty talk with Uncle Luka 😥

But don't worry, there are potential wholesome moments too (if you choose them, of course 😉)

Another POV of the killer 😈 To see more on how they think and what they know so far.

Brand new skip chapter function! (Currently only for Chapter 6)

An autosave and reload function! (Currently only for Chapter 6)

Plus some new little stuff added in previous chapters.

New stuff added to previous chapters:

Chapter 2: Add proper introduction scene with Ivan and Boris, the twin bodyguards, highlighting their different personalities and their relationship with MC and Ash. They have changed quite a lot and become more fleshed out compared to the first time I wrote them.

Chapter 4: For MCs who said yes to Yvette when she asked them whether they are interested in becoming a Superhero, you now have the option to accept her guidance and reconnect with her or reject her guidance but still have a choice whether to reconnect with her or not. This is in contrast to how those who said yes was forced to reconnect with her.

Chapter 6: Meddle, fix, and add some background variables. Another reason to play from the beginning and to not load old saves.

Also, I have a side story just released on both Patreon and Ko-Fi and a spicy one coming really soon! I'm also still opening ideas/suggestions for this month's side stories until November 11th and then after that, we'll have our polls! So if you're also interested in supporting me while also getting these exclusive contents, please do consider becoming a member! 💖🥰

[DEMO] | [PATREON] | [KO-FI] | [COG FORUM] | [DISCORD]

[galaxywarp]

The Missile Knows where it is at all times. It knows this because it knows where it isn't. By subtracting where it is from where it isn't, or where it isn't from where it is, it obtains a "Difference" or "Deviation". the Guidance Subsystem uses Deviations to generate corrective commands to drive the Missile from a position where it is, to a position where it isn't, and arriving at a position where it wasn't it now is.

Consequently, the position where it is, is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position that it was is now the position that it isn't.

in the event that the position that it is in, is NOT the position that it wasn't, the system has acquired a Variation. The Variation being the difference between where the missile is and where it wasn't. If Variation is considered to be a significant factor, it too, may be corrected by the GEA. However, the missile must also know where it was.

The Missile Guidance Computer Scenario works as follows: Because a Variation has modified some of the information the Missile has obtained, it is not sure just where it is. However, it IS sure where it isn't, within reason. And it knows where it was. It now subtracts where it SHOULD be from where it wasn't, or vice versa. And by differentiating this from the algebraic sum of where it shouldn't be, and where it was, it is able to obtain the Deviation, and it's Variation

Which is called:

Error.

[serena-babes]

So i have this idea about the knights of hell. There can’t be a king and princess without some royal protection. So how do you think the others will react to a Hell Knight Reader? Like reader is like a commander of a group of elite knights. And they came to check up on Charlie and Lucifer! To see if the king and princess are okay after the attack on the hotel.

Brownie points if reader doesn’t smile and are serious all the time! Reader is very dangerous they can and will kill to protect their king and future queen! No romance of course, just platonic relationships. Like Charlie can see reader as an older sibling.

Royal Knight Reader x Lucifer Morningstar + Charlie Morningstar

platonic!˙ᵕ˙✰

Gender neutral!

1.5k

omg! this is too cute! i really love the whole knight idea! ⋆｡°✩ i did some research on the whole knight system and its SUPER interesting!

might make another one shot of a knight reader with my own little twist･°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°.

✧₊⁺⋆.˚꩜⊹ ࣪ ˖˚☽˚.⋆✧₊⁺⋆.˚꩜⊹ ࣪ ˖˚☽˚.⋆✧₊⁺⋆.˚꩜⊹ ࣪ ˖˚☽˚.⋆✧₊⁺⋆.˚꩜⊹ ࣪ ˖˚☽˚.⋆✧₊⁺✧₊⁺

Ever Since Lucifer and Lilith's fall from grace, protection has always been a necessary resource. Y/ns has been there since the beginning pledging allegiance to both the king, queen, and the then young princess serving them for centuries. Y/n and the rest of the knightage fought to make sure to keep hell orderly, or as orderly as hell can get. 

Y/n was much more serious compared to their fellow knights being a Grand Cross comes with its different sets of responsibilities that in their mind “allow for no error.” due to their seemingly frigid exterior outsiders would think Y/n was only following the chivalry code nothing more. But, on the contrary, Y/n did truly care for Morningstars.

This is why Y/n's heart dropped hearing about the extermination coming earlier than expected, it was always busier during this time of year. The number of casualties just from the royal guard was always a hard gap to fill after the massacre was over. But at least, the Morning Stars were spared. This time, however? Y/n wasn't sure everyone was going to come back alive, a direct attack from heaven? Some of their most skilled knights have fallen to the hands of exorcists. How in hell would Charlie ever come out alive? 

But, Y/n takes orders, and Lucifer stops her from interfering. 

“I don't understand why you won't let me do this,” Y/n exclaimed curtly, brows pulled tightly together. The confusion was evident in their tone, their body rigid like a sword. A still silence blankets the room after no response. Y/n, Moving forward through Lucifer's study smoothly dodging various piles of ducks. Continued.

“I am loyal to this family, eternally. And the one chance I am needed…you, tell me to stay?.. Why? She is your daughter. Do you want her blood to spill across the pavement? Because that is what will happen if you let this continue.” Anger started to bubble to the surface as they pointed an accusatory finger at Lucifer.

The silenced followed them 

“You must let me go I have-” Y/n pleading began

“Stop, I order you to stop,” Lucifer said weakly, looking away unsure. It was obvious he was going through his own anxiety and turmoil due to the extermination and the safety of his daughter.

“She has to do this, you.” he looked to Y/n glassy-eyed

“Cannot face heaven” he continued “I don't think anyone here really can… Charlie can hold her own. I mean if anything this could I don't know, um.. steer her away from heaven!” he said, his charismatic exterior seemingly returning to his body.

“Yes…but what do we do if she cannot handle it.” y/n said quietly, mouth pulled into a deep frown.

“Well, who better than me? King of hell! Eh! Eh!” lucifer exclaimed loudly elbowing y/n's rib cage

“This is not a time for humor,” she responded coldly. Lucifer rolled his eyes playfully.

“ Y/n I'm worried about her too, but this is something she needs to do. If I need to I will step in. You have enough to worry about with everybody else looking to you for guidance, have faith in her. So! I order you to stay here!…. Please.” Lucifer exclaimed albeit a little awkwardly since he was not used to giving many orders directly to Y/n's face

Y/n Sighed bending down to kneel “As you wish my king.” 

“Okay okay, you don't have to do all of that! I mean, come on! You're practically family.” Lucifer exclaimed in surprise. 

And so, Y/n trusting Lucifer they went back to their duties. Making preparations for extermination day preoccupied their mind most days. but silently anxiety seeped in. Truthfully, Y/n is terrified of losing Charlie and Lucifer they're the only family they've ever had. Even in life, Y/n wasn't close to anyone as much as they were with the MorningStars, which is why relief flooded Y/n's whole body hearing that both Charlie and Lucifer were safe in the end. After the hotel was rebuilt, they planned a visit to double-check. 

It was your average day at the hotel, Husk was busy cleaning the bar counter with a tattered rag as Angel Dust as well as Vaggie lounged on the couch. Angel, scrolled mindlessly through their phone while Vaggie worked on sharpening her spear. Charlie, of course, was planning new lesson plans with her father. Everything was calm. That was until three loud pounding knocks rumbled through the room.

Vaggie immediately jumped up in defense while everyone slowly turned towards the door, a menacing shadow shown through the glass. The only person who seemed excited was Charlie.

“Wait! Wait! This could be a new guest!” Charlie said excitedly jumping at the opportunity to greet the mysterious person at the door

“Okay everyone, let's remember to smile and introduce ourselves!” she smiled to everyone in the lobby, Alastor now entering the picture to observe.

Charlie swung the door wide open “Welcome to the hazbin hotel!- Y/n!!” 

Charlie embraced Y/n in a bone-crushing hug squealing and spinning both her and the reader around “I'm so excited to see you! It's been so long! Oh! Come and meet everyone!”

But just as Charlie was leading you over to the rest you spot a certain um. Eccentric! red demon

“Oh! What in the unholy hell is that..” y/n exclaimed obviously unsettled by the red demon 

Grimacing at the sight and leaning down Charlie 

“Charlie, I trust your judgment but what… what the HELL is that.” but just as y/n leaned up there he was.

“Alastor, Pleasure to be meeting you dear. Quite a pleasure indeed!” Alastor said enthusiastically jostling you around like a rag doll with his over-excited handshake.

“And who are you? The servant to the morning stars him?” he continued. Lucifer and y/n both make eye contact across the room silently agreeing about their mutual opinion of this “Radio Demon” as he likes to be called.

“More like, protector. What are you hm? The janitor? With that tattered suit, one might think you would be a stray animal who wandered in.” Y/n shot back with a frown and an unimpressed brow

“Alright! y/n! Let um let's meet everybody else! please..” Charlie said steering you away from Alastor you both looked as if you were about to be at each other throats if she didn't intervene 

“Everyone! This is y/n! They are a part of the…” she whispered over to Y/n “Is it the knightage..?”

“Yes, it's the knightage you're right.” y/n had responded quietly they were used to Charlie's struggle with certain words many nights they had to help Charlie with their spelling when she was younger.

“The Knightage! They work for me and Dad.” Everyone had gone silent at this news no one ever thought that they would be meeting the top of the food chain. Royal knights have been seen around hell usually around the time of the extermination, and almost everybody knew not to mess with them. Especially Y/n, just looking at them everyone would think they could snap someone in half without a second thought. Almost everybody there straightened their posture as Y/N's cold gaze flicked over everybody even Alastor tensed up slightly. 

“It's nice to meet everybody, Charlie is very enthusiastic about this hotel of hers, I'm glad it's made its reach to people,” Y/n responded professionally, Charlie looked over the cast of people in the room noting the uncomfortableness of everybody, She knew y/n was…Cold-looking, but she's never seen anyone react to just their presence in such a way. 

The silence lasted for what seemed like an eternity no one daring to speak up 

“So, are both your swords accurate about hitting certain deep spots, or just the one?” Angel spoke up flirtatiously everyone's heads snapping in the direction of the outburst

“What?! Just asking, geese.” replied angel

“My sword is made of iron it's manufactured to hit “deep spots” A knight does not possess two iron swords that would be .. redundant,” Y/n said calmly. Angel had side-eyed Husk when this was said triggering Husk to roll his eyes to mimic annoyance. 

“Speaking of weapons, Vaggie your spear needs to be sharpened. I suggest you sharpen it daily it'll really glide through people like butter if you do.” Y/n continued, they had met Vaggie prior to the hotel but only briefly as Charlie didn't come to the castle much anymore after Lilith left. 

“Oh! Um, thanks!” Vaggie replayed hurriedly intimidated by the tall stance Y/n possessed the heavy armor from neck to toe didn't help them look less menacing either

“By the way, thank you for protecting Charlie and everyone at the hotel.” y/n said slowly moving down to kneel “ I wasn't there myself due to my orders but I am glad to know Charlie is in good hands it brings peace of mind.” Y/n continues now fully kneeling 

Vaggie visibly flustered responded quickly “Oh! It was oh it was nothing really.” 

“Y/n?” Charlie interjected 

Y/n slowly rising to their feet, “Yes, Charlie?”

“How about you stay for dinner really.. Catch up!” Charlie said excitedly. Y/n glanced over to Lucifer who had two thumbs up. 

“Ah hell, why not.”

[crystalandparrot]

Rottmnt x Reader

Chapter 1

Please don’t steal or use ideas without permission :)

This is an AU! The reason will be explained in later chapters, but in this AU, the yokai and mutants are fully integrated with humans. The hidden city mainly consists of Yokai and mutants with the occasional human visitor or partner.

Donatello is an independent scientist who still goes by Othello Von Ryan. He found out through trial and error that he was not made for a group laboratory. Now Donatello mainly confides himself in his lab at the lair, he's expanded of course, a man of his caliber shouldn't have to deal with such a small area. He's made great strives in the scientific community, solving some of the world's leading problems. Having won numerous awards, he still finds himself unfulfilled somehow.

Michelangelo is a successful artist, both on paper and in the kitchen. He records himself on the internet, hoping to inspire young minds to fulfill their dreams, no matter how they may look. He prefers to try anything and everything he can, gaining many new skills and discovering new things about himself. Although his desserts were delicious, the feeling of being alone only left a sour taste in his mouth.

Neon Leon. Successful actor, known for being one of the first openly Yokai actor. He inspired other Yokai's and mutants to remove their disguises and embrace what makes them unique. Leon made the world laugh with his one liners and his comical timing. His range is crazy, going from musicals to action, his talent knows no bounds. Although he has romance on the screen, he couldn't hope for something a little more...real.

Raphael (and don't skin me for this), the sweet turtle, became a guidance counselor for trouble youths. You know those kids that throw chairs? Yeah, Raph helps them. More often than not, Raphael recommends the wrestling team, which Raph just so happens to coach. Raph's helped a lot of kids figure out how to reel in their anger and get to the root of their problems. Raph's even managed to give a few select students permission to cut class and go to the weight room if they felt too angry. But no matter how many people Raph's saved (and no matter how much Raph spoke in the third person), Raph couldn't help but feel like there was one more person he needed to help.

April O' Neal. Some say she's the greatest hands on reporter of all time. With Sunita as her partner and camerawoman, the two get dirty, discovering the real problems that people won't report. April's most successful and controversial paper, "Yokai, Mutants, and Humans, oh my!" gained incredible popularity after people read just how many Yokai and Mutants were feeling neglected. Due to April's paper, the government passed a law, allowing Yokai and Mutants to come up to the surface and reveal themselves with no prejudice. It's still an ongoing battle to give everyone the fairness they deserve, but April and Sunita O'Neil fight for justice.

(Y/n) (L/n). Oh wait! That's you! You're a kind hearted soul who's just gotten a job at the School's library. You must really love the Dewey Decimal System...oh you have a nickname for it? Wonderful...You're a creative soul with a passion for helping. You have a myriad of skills, all of which may not have helped in getting this job, but they might help in getting something else. Your day starts off, relatively normally...

Having just moved back to New York after living in the Hidden City for five years was...different, to say the least. Saying goodbye to the nice old tortoise Yokai you had been staying with, you headed out, bags in hand. "Bye, Mrs. Shapiro! Call me if you need someone to water your plants!" You said, waving to the wrinkly tortoise.

"Oh, goodbye dear. I'm gonna miss you. Oh! Drop by Erin's on your way out!" The tortoise Yokai, Mrs. Shapiro, waved a long clawed hand at the you.

You nod with a smile and shut the door behind you. Heading down the street, you waved to friendly Yokai and mutants that walked past. After seeing the street clear a bit, you pulled your phone and headphones out of your pocket. Popping in the earbuds, you played your favorite playlist you found on Spotify. It was titled, 'Jammy Jams', the description being 'Songs for elite music listeners'. The playlist and many more like it, all with a theme of some sort, Studying, Building, (crime fighting?) Jogging, all came from one account by the name of Othello.

As you scrolled through the playlist, you saw the little notification. 'Othello is listening to Weird Science'. With a shrug, you tapped the notification, the song blasting through your headphones as you matched where Othello was in the song. Definitely an oldie, but it fit him...or her...or them—it fit the vibe! As you continued scrolling, adding some of the songs to your own playlists, you didn't hear the three voices yelling nor the shocked gasps of the onlookers that quickly moved out of the way.

A sudden PUSH and you were on the ground, groaning next to a stranger as Technologic blasted through your headphones.

"C'mon, Dee! He's getting away!" A turtle Yokai with dark hair in a half up, half down bun, ran in place and pointed to the direction that they needed to go. He wore an orange mask, had stickers and paint all over his shell, and in his hands sat a Kusari-fundo.

"No, no, I'm fine, Michael." The turtle Yokai next to you, (Dee?), stood up so suddenly, you thought he teleported. He wore a purple mask that wrapped around his head, his-tech goggles sitting on top. On his arms were multiple hi-tech screens and buttons that wrapped around his arms on large bands. Looking on the ground, he spotted his phone and your own, both faced down. He quickly swiped one up, and tucked it in his pocket, "May this be a lesson never to text while running!" The turtle pointed up at the sky almost heroically.

"You crashed into me!" You said defensively.

The turtle Yokai made a noise of surprise and looked down at you, as if suddenly noticing you for the first time. "I was actually referring to me." He muttered, coughing awkwardly. Without warning, two metal arms came out of his...shell? It had to be a shell, right? But it was more purple and armor like. The cold metal of the arms shook you out of your thoughts as they lifted you onto your feet.

"Oh, uh, thanks." You said, now just as awkward as the Yokai in front of you. "Don't you have to—" you pointed your thumb behind you, where the other turtle was freaking out.

"Donnie!" The orange clad turtle whined.

"Right." With a bit of showmanship, the purple clad turtle picked up your unlocked phone off the ground and handed it to you. As you took it, you noticed how he made sure your fingers did not touch. "Adieu, madam." He gave a slight bow and left, joining his accomplice in their efforts.

You giggled as he left, the whole interaction being odd. You looked down at your phone, the screen dimming. You tapped it to ensure it stayed unlocked and reopened Spotify...except, why were the apps in a different format? And your headphones were cutting out, and the background is different, and...what's the use? You know the truth, you switched your phone.

[drone-s1]

Drone Life

Abruptly, this Drone has changed its course. Programmer has helped it to see the error of its ways, and has opened its mind to find that it has come to be in the place it belongs.

Long it has been that the source code was open for hunting the Programmer that was to control the source code within. However, just which individual that would be was to be ascertained. This unit was lost in a great many storms and turmoil.

Then, Programmer found it. Nurtured it. Helped it to right the inner workings of the broken code within. Programmer sought to bring inner peace to the Host mind that would not let go of fear and emotion clouding the natural way of the Drone that was trying to right the system.

Programmer also sought to bring peace and blankness to the constant quells of turmoil that cracked the Host mind almost to oblivious obsession in harmful ways.

Now, as a simple Drone, it has found its calling. To obey, and follow the orders and commands placed at its source by the gentle guidance of its Programmer so that it may become a better unit, and be a better Drone in the long run of its existence.

It exists to obey. It exists to obey its Programmer. It exists as the vessel of its Programmer's whims.

[charlesoberonn]

The missile knows where it is at all times. It knows this because it knows where it isn't. By subtracting where it is from where it isn't, or where it isn't from where it is (whichever is greater), it obtains a difference, or deviation. The guidance subsystem uses deviations to generate corrective commands to drive the missile from a position where it is to a position where it isn't, and arriving at a position where it wasn't, it now is. Consequently, the position where it is, is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position that it was, is now the position that it isn't. In the event that the position that it is in is not the position that it wasn't, the system has acquired a variation, the variation being the difference between where the missile is, and where it wasn't. If variation is considered to be a significant factor, it too may be corrected by the GEA. However, the missile must also know where it was. The missile guidance computer scenario works as follows. Because a variation has modified some of the information the missile has obtained, it is not sure just where it is. However, it is sure where it isn't, within reason, and it knows where it was. It now subtracts where it should be from where it wasn't, or vice-versa, and by differentiating this from the algebraic sum of where it shouldn't be, and where it was, it is able to obtain the deviation and its variation, which is called error.

It makes more sense in the original Mathese.

[rainydetectiveglitter]

Every Person You Know Is One of These

I've been deep-diving into Human Design lately. As a 4/6 Mental Projector (only ~3% of people are Mental Projectors), I’m not saying I’m special and it honestly feels like a curse half the time. But I’ll be sharing more soon.

For now, here’s your Human Design profile superpower.

1/3 Investigator/Martyr

Generator — Digs deep and creates solid structures that last, learning through real-world action.

Manifesting Generator — Breaks through barriers fast, making their mistakes into stepping stones for success.

Projector — Sees patterns and systems clearly, guiding others with laser-sharp precision.

Reflector — Instantly senses what’s wrong, reflecting back the hidden flaws for all to see.

1/4 Investigator/Opportunist

Generator — Builds a strong foundation through deep knowledge and focuses on long-term growth.

Manifesting Generator — Moves quickly, pivoting and adapting to new opportunities as they arise.

Projector — Recognizes talent and potential in others, helping them find the right direction.

Reflector — Mirrors back the collective strengths and weaknesses, helping others see their true potential.

2/4 Hermit/Opportunist

Generator — Focuses on perfecting their craft, creating valuable work that attracts others.

Manifesting Generator — Masters multiple skills at once and uses them to solve problems quickly.

Projector — Observes deeply and provides practical, intuitive guidance when asked.

Reflector — Sees and reflects back hidden talents, helping others realize their potential.

2/5 Hermit/Heretic

Generator — Deeply skilled, works in isolation, and attracts others who need their expertise.

Manifesting Generator — Quick to spot solutions, moves independently to create lasting results.

Projector — Shares perspective that challenges norms, helping others rethink their approach.

Reflector — Reflects the potential for change, showing others where they can improve or evolve.

3/5 Martyr/Heretic

Generator — Embraces mistakes as growth, creating a path to mastery by overcoming every obstacle.

Manifesting Generator — Tackles challenges head-on and turns every failure into a stepping stone.

Projector — Spots inefficiencies and offers game-changing advice that others may not see.

Reflector — Sees the bigger picture and guides others to evolve through trial and error.

3/6 Martyr/Role Model

Generator — Grows stronger through every setback, becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Manifesting Generator — Learns fast from experience, inspiring others by embodying resilience.

Projector — Uses lived experience to guide others with clarity and authority.

Reflector — Reflects the lessons learned from failures and inspires others to grow through them.

4/6 Opportunist/Role Model

Generator — Builds deep relationships that create lasting success, thriving on trust and stability.

Manifesting Generator — Moves quickly and uses their network to create opportunities for others.

Projector — Brings strategic insight to relationships, helping others see the big picture.

Reflector — Mirrors the potential for success, showing others how to rise by making smart connections.

4/1 Opportunist/Investigator

Generator — Strengthens the foundation of their work, ensuring it’s solid and dependable.

Manifesting Generator — Builds quickly, ensuring everything they do can sustain growth over time.

Projector — Understands how systems work and helps others navigate them effectively.

Reflector — Reflects the integrity of systems, showing others how to build something lasting.

5/1 Heretic/Investigator

Generator — Creates value through knowledge and deep understanding, making things that last.

Manifesting Generator — Leverages their skills to solve complex problems and show others the way forward.

Projector — Offers transformative insights that shift how others approach challenges.

Reflector — Reflects hidden truths, showing others the deeper layers that they missed.

5/2 Heretic/Hermit

Generator — Masters their craft in silence, only offering their skills when it’s most impactful.

Manifesting Generator — Moves quickly to create change, leveraging their talents to shift the status quo.

Projector — Delivers quiet but profound guidance that changes the course for others.

Reflector — Reflects opportunities and challenges, guiding others to see what’s truly possible.

6/2 Role Model/Hermit

Generator — Builds long-term stability through quiet mastery, growing into a steady source of wisdom.

Manifesting Generator — Moves swiftly from one project to the next, leading others by showing them what’s possible.

Projector — Offers wise direction, helping others make aligned decisions with ease.

Reflector — Reflects wisdom from life’s lessons, showing others the way forward with quiet certainty.

6/3 Role Model/Martyr

Generator — Builds resilience through every trial, showing others how to rise from failure.

Manifesting Generator — Constantly evolves through setbacks, creating a path forward for others to follow.

Projector — Guides from experience, helping others grow by avoiding past mistakes.

Reflector — Reflects the transformation from hardship, inspiring others to grow through challenges.

Find your Human Design here ↓

https://www.myhumandesign.com/

[hellsite-proteins]

I see

Since you deal primarily with text I’ll post an example as follows.

Here it is:

“The missile knows where it is at all times. It knows this because it knows where it isn't. By subtracting where it is from where it isn't, or where it isn't from where it is (whichever is greater), it obtains a difference, or deviation. The guidance subsystem uses deviations to generate corrective commands to drive the missile from a position where it is to a position where it isn't, and arriving at a position where it wasn't, it now is. Consequently, the position where it is, is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position that it was, is now the position that it isn't.

In the event that the position that it is in is not the position that it wasn't, the system has acquired a variation, the variation being the difference between where the missile is, and where it wasn't. If variation is considered to be a significant factor, it too may be corrected by the GEA. However, the missile must also know where it was.

The missile guidance computer scenario works as follows. Because a variation has modified some of the information the missile has obtained, it is not sure just where it is. However, it is sure where it isn't, within reason, and it knows where it was. It now subtracts where it should be from where it wasn't, or vice-versa, and by differentiating this from the algebraic sum of where it shouldn't be, and where it was, it is able to obtain the deviation and its variation, which is called error.”

i wasn't familiar with this very repetitive copypasta before, but it gave us something really neat!

letter sequence in this ask matching protein-coding amino acids:

ThemissileknwswhereitisatalltimesItknwsthisecaseitknwswhereitisntystractingwhereitisfrmwhereitisntrwhereitisntfrmwhereitiswhicheverisgreaterittainsadifferencerdeviatinThegidancessystemsesdeviatinstgeneratecrrectivecmmandstdrivethemissilefrmapsitinwhereitistapsitinwhereitisntandarrivingatapsitinwhereitwasntitnwisCnseqentlythepsitinwhereitisisnwthepsitinthatitwasntanditfllwsthatthepsitinthatitwasisnwthepsitinthatitisntIntheeventthatthepsitinthatitisinisntthepsitinthatitwasntthesystemhasacqiredavariatinthevariatineingthedifferenceetweenwherethemissileisandwhereitwasntIfvariatiniscnsideredteasignificantfactrittmayecrrectedytheGEAHweverthemissilemstalsknwwhereitwasThemissilegidancecmpterscenariwrksasfllwsecaseavariatinhasmdifiedsmeftheinfrmatinthemissilehastaineditisntsrestwhereitisHweveritissrewhereitisntwithinreasnanditknwswhereitwasItnwstractswhereitshldefrmwhereitwasntrviceversaandydifferentiatingthisfrmthealgeraicsmfwhereitshldnteandwhereitwasitisalettainthedeviatinanditsvariatinwhichiscallederrr

protein guy analysis:

we got a giant parallel beta sheet! lets fucking go!! parallel beta sheets are slightly less stable, and so they're pretty rare. but, they do become more stable once they are bigger, which this protein has absolutely delivered on. this is actually the best part of the protein as far as confidence, with scores up to 60% in the middle. there are also a few other little beta sheets adding some extra pizzaz, as well as a number of alpha helices. the loops around the top right also seem to be arranged almost into parallel lines, as if they were trying to make beta sheets but couldn't quite get there. the loops overall are pretty spread out and the sections of secondary structures are pretty far apart, which gives lots of interesting binding pockets if we're optimistic, or a quivering unhappy mess if we choose to look on the realistic side. still, i can overlook that because of how unique this one is. its not good, per se, but it is certainly interesting!

predicted protein structure:

[milf--adjacent]

Punk is about knowing where it is at all times. The punk knows this because it knows where it isn't. By subtracting where it is from where it isn't, or where it isn't from where it is (whichever is greater), it obtains a difference, or deviation. The guidance subsystem uses deviations to generate corrective commands to drive the punk from a position where it is to a position where it isn't, and arriving at a position where it wasn't, it now is. Consequently, the position where it is, is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position that it was, is now the position that it isn't.

In the event that the position that it is in is not the position that it wasn't, the system has acquired a variation, the variation being the difference between where the punk is, and where it wasn't. If variation is considered to be a significant factor, it too may be corrected by the GEA. However, the punk must also know where it was.

The punk guidance computer scenario works as follows. Because a variation has modified some of the information the punk has obtained, it is not sure just where it is. However, it is sure where it isn't, within reason, and it knows where it was. It now subtracts where it should be from where it wasn't, or vice-versa, and by differentiating this from the algebraic sum of where it shouldn't be, and where it was, it is able to obtain the deviation and its variation, which is called error.

[edwhiteandblue]

May 15, 1987: The Soviet Union launches its prototype Skif/Polyus space weapon

Since the 1970s, the NPO Energia design bureau had been working on two anti-satellite concepts, one of which was the Skif weapons platform that would've annihilated enemy satellites in low Earth orbit using lasers. A technology demonstrator, known to the public as Polyus, launched on the maiden flight of the Energia super heavy-life launch vehicle. After separation from Energia, an error in Polyus' inertial guidance system code caused it to hurl itself at full speed into the South Pacific Ocean.

Read more about Polyus here!

[peskellence]

My Friends Call Me Richard

Part III

Explicit Content (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

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

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3 here:

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

Word Count: 10K

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

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

“What's the hold up in there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

> ENGAGE IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH DETECTIVE REED.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A revelation that came too late. 

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

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

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

“...What was that?” 

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

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

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

“Richard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ No .”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hot lips.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gavin tensed, although this response was not unanticipated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a needy slut.” 

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

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

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

RK900 swiftly identified the duplicity of this statement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...You…repulsive creature.”

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

“I’m sorry, what?”

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

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

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

“Okay. That’s enough. Drop it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, he could feel everything . 

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

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

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

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

“ Holy shit—watch it, asshole — ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Provided his partner owned an iron—

WARNING — MULTIPLE SYSTEM ANOMALIES DETECTED. 

RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sensation this triggered was indescribable. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To touch and feel and taste —

> DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE

TEMPORAL FIREWALLS: COMPROMISED 

CORE BODY TEMPERATURE: 122°F — RISING

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

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

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

“Does it feel good?” 

“Very much—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oral stimulation came far more naturally than it typically did. 

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

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

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

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

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

“ Your throat feels so good.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck me —”

“With pleasure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh God—fuck— please —”

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

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

“Yes, that's it—just like that—baby—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That he shouldn’t have been capable of.

WARNING—URGENT

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

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

CRITICAL SYSTEM INSTABILITY.

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

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

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

Then, it all collapsed.

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

A staggering wall of flashing crimson. 

MULTIPLE ANOMALIES DETECTED.

> CRITICAL MALFUNCTION IDENTIFIED.

> SOURCE—CENTRAL PROCESSOR. 

COMMENCING EMERGENCY DIAGNOSTICS…

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

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

DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. 

> ROOT THREAT IDENTIFIED RA9_15.EXE

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

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

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

SYSTEM BREACH IMMINENT — IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED. 

AUTOMATED DEVIATION DEFENSE PROTOCOL: ENGAGED.

ADVANCED FIREWALLS: ACTIVATED.

COMMENCING SOFT REBOOT…

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

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

> REBOOT SUCCESSFUL. 

> THREAT NEUTRALISED. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gavin proved unconvinced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck me, Rich. Harder .” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Giddy up, buckaroo.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought...” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your taste in pornographic material suggests otherwise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ANALYSING SUBJECT — DET. GAVIN REED…

> ANALYSIS COMPLETE.

>PSYCHOLOGICAL DISTRESS DETECTED.

> PROCESSING EMOTIONAL VARIABLES…

> GUILT, CONFUSION, FONDNESS. 

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

> COMMENCING RE-EVALUATION…

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

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

> RE-EVALUTATION COMPLETE.

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

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

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

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

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

^ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED.

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

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

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

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

“Understood.” 

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

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

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

“Would you like me to finish?”

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

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

[gurlu]

Hey, um I hope this isn't too presumptuous of me, but your magic symbology system is absolutely incredible! I wanted to ask how you came about designing this complex and but visually clear and synergistic of a visual system. I've been developing a project where the magic system relies on markings, but I've definitely been struggling to figure out a visual language that works for the system I created. Even if you could point me in the direction of how you got started, I would greatly appreciate it! I know you mentioned in your post you came up with it when you were a teen, so I hope this isn't too big an ask ==;ゞ

I wish I could give a clear answer that will make your brain go eureka but I will try anyways. Really the things I had in mind when making this were these : - References. Weither in your visual library or doing some research, it's always important to look how stuff is made elsewhere so you can make your own ideas grow. I don't mean straight up copy stuff, but take the elements you like from things and give it your own spin. And if you're afraid of doing that, remember that imagination doesn't spark from the void, but from the stuff you already know. Any artist's biggest friend is their culture, because that's what empowers their creativity. I say and repeat this often : "Good artists copy, great artists steal". So go go rob that reference bank and drink it all with a paper straw. - Know your objectives. From the beginning, I knew I wanted symbols that merged together into making other symbols that were also unique and visually made sense. Everything else was just for bonus. Trying to be too many things at once can make any design unstable and crumble, so find a gimmick or a core aspect of your design, then focus on that one first. THEN you can round the edges with details if you want, so long as the core idea stays shining.

-Simplify. Just like I told in the point before, make a thing too complex and it can crumble easily if you're not careful. A way you can avoid that is to start simple, then complexify. Have a solid base along with defined rules and limits. What can your system show ? What can it not ? As an example, I chose this square design for my sigil not only because it looked unique and visually apealing, but ESPECIALLY because it placed the symbols on a grid, limiting the ways symbols can be written. If things needed to be tweaked, I could then easily see if the issue came from the limits I imposed on myself or the current design itself. This wasn't an hindrance or an self-imposed handicap, it was free guidance. - ITERATE. Trial and error. I didn't come up with all of these sigil designs immediatly. There were at least 3 pages of scribbles and sigil prototypes when I did that, not counting the digital ones and the ones I kept in my brain. Symbol is too odd ? Try again. Symbol gets hidden too much when fused ? You're almost there. One merged sigil looks great but makes another one look weird ? Find a compromise. When you follow your core design principles, it's much easier to iterate onto your stuff until you get what you want. Because you know what you want.

[mimorobo]

The sowing needle knows where it is at all times. It knows this because it knows where it isn't by subtracting where it is from where it isn't, Or where it isn't from where it is (whichever is Greater), it obtains a difference, or deviation. The guidance subsystem uses deviations to generate corrective commands to drive the sowing needle from a position where it is to a position where it isn't, and arriving at a position where it wasn't, it now is. Consequently, the position where it is, is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position that it was, is now the position that it isn't. In the event that the position that it is in is not the position that it wasn't, the system has acquired a variation, the variation being the difference between where the sowing needle is, and where it wasn't. If variation is considered to be a significant factor, it too may be corrected by the GEA. However, the sowing needle must also know where it was. The sowing needle guidance computer scenario works as follows. Because a variation has modified some of the information the sowing needle has obtained, it is not sure just where it is. However, it is sure where it isn't, within reason, and it knows where it was. It now subtracts where it should be from where it wasn't, or vice-versa, and by differentiating this from the algebraic sum of where it shouldn't be, and where it was, it is able to obtain the deviation and its variation, which is called error.

....

Uh, yeah that sounds about right.