#soft rk900

[gavin-reed-is-gay]

I love how reed900 started as karma for Gavin’s actions against Connor and now it’s “they’re soulmates, they love each other, they have a beautiful spring wedding and spend the rest of their lives together with their ten adopted cats”

[j1998v]

DOMESTIC REED900

[sandinthepipes]

I feel sorry for those who perceive reed900 to be the same as hancon, because you are missing out on so much sassery and fucked-uppery

[marsidotcom]

thinking about nines just finding any excuse to have his hands on gavin- he looks relatively tired? piggyback.

it’s cold? he’s huddled up to gavin, elbows linked.

his hair is mused with sleep? he’s brushing through loose curls with careful fingers and flattening the sides for him at the kitchen counter while gavin nurses a mug of coffee.

working over lunch at the DPD? (pre-absolution) nines is thumb-swiping crumbs from the corners of gavin’s mouth, despite gavin’s “disgruntled” whining and shoving at his hands.

they’re swimming over the summer? nines is armed with a bottle of sunscreen and nagging him about it until gavin caves and lets his lover rub the lotion into scarred, slightly freckled shoulders and as a result, gently rouse a now half asleep gavin, basking in the sun and nine’s caring touch.

[tashhxpp]

six different versions of Connor

[kayla1507]

Following up on my favorite RK poll, I'm interested to learn about your favorite RK ship. Please help me gather data for "scientific research". 😏

[vladlen4i]

[sweeteatercat]

He's my baby...I can't help it 🤖💋

[soultek]

Lover. Fighter. - A Concept

Everybody says there's two kinds of hearts Where one loves and one goes to war I know, it's not easy or that simplified, no But you and I are on each others side I know, it's not easy or that simplified, no But don't you know that I'd lay down my life

I will be your Lover. Fighter. Harder. Higher. Lover. Fighter. I wanna fight for Lover. Fighter. Under fire Lover. Fighter. I wanna fight for love

--- [Playlist] ---

Word Count: 1879

Concept: After being released into the world on the anniversary of Markus’ Hart Plaza march, the RK900 model is sent to Detroit PD. Said to be deviant proof, many want to test that theory... But there are more pressing matters, threats to lives in D.C. due to the ever increasing number of protests lead Nines to his first real test. And she doesn’t like him much, either...

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death threats. 

A/N: This is only a prologue to the above ‘concept’ I have some more info for you in the tags though! 😊 Had to post this for the anniversary! It’s been in my drafts since May 9th 2022... 😅

---

In the just over 18 months since Markus’ march on Hart Plaza, plenty had already changed in the world. That was just in the immediate circle of the movement and their allies within Detroit Police Department. Connor hadn’t given up his role as a detective, and nowadays he had almost as many rights as his human counterparts – give or take a few, Markus and co. were in Washington D.C. seemingly every other weekend negotiating something or other.

Cyberlife had turned into something more of an android repair shop and upgrade centre. Those who chose to remain with their human families certainly needed such things – and those who didn’t could still drop by. Even with Jericho also open to welcome and service all commers. And – like it or not – certain androids still needed to return to Cyberlife for such tuning. Connor being a prime example – though these days he hardly ever went unaccompanied. And, Kamski was more or less back in the driver’s seat, so… it was unlikely anything untoward was going down.

With one notable exception. Nines. The RK-900 model was released exactly a year after Markus’ revolution – that was no coincidence. Cyberlife had been working on an android that was impossible to turn Deviant for a long while. They weren’t just going to lock him away. No, instead Nines (as he was now affectionately dubbed) was shipped out to the central precinct of the DPD to be the very last machine. Even if he was the first of his kind. The most advanced model cyberlife had ever created – and at least as far as the foreseeable future was concerned, the last model to ever be released. He may not have been a prototype – but he was damn near as cold and efficient as Cyberlife had wanted Connor to be. And also eerily looked like him, which had caused many to steer clear for Nines’ first few months on the job.

Though, considering for some insane reason he’d been paired up with Gavin Reed, it was fairly understandable why anyone would want to steer clear. Try as Gavin might to protest it, no one budged and try as he might to insult his partner into giving up, Nines was unflappable. But, had a sense of sarcasm where it was never quite easy to tell if he was joking or just plain being mean. (When he was talking to Gavin it was nearly always the latter).

Markus and Connor – what with the power they had to deviate android models as prototypes - had always talked of doing something about it. Regarding testing if Cyberlife’s “incorruptible” android really was all that. But Ilyana – Jericho’s sole Human ‘member’, for relation purposes – was always adamant that if Nines were to turn, it would have to be on his own terms; his own realisation, just as it had been for them. She had been the one to first call him “Nines” instead of his model number, and he’d duly adopted it. If he could show any form of affection and emotion, it was usually to her. Which is how this sudden change in plans had really come about.

  Paige Carlin, CSI, was one of the people who had taken a long while to warm to the new presence in the precinct. She liked androids well enough, but… considering her situationship with Connor it was never going to be easy getting used to someone who looked almost identical. As she stepped into the office this morning however, having just about got used to his presence, she found Nines standing at his desk with a box – packing. She raised an eyebrow, stuffing her hands into her pockets. This was unexpected, and sudden, he’d not said anything about moving. Glancing to Connor and Hank, she found herself none the wiser, they were both working at their desks seemingly unbothered (though, Connor would probably like being the only android in Central again.)  

She approached Nines slowly, not to seem nosy but only appropriately curious. “Where are you off to!?” He looked up, gave a slight nod to acknowledge her – his version of Good Morning she supposed, and then went right back to packing. “I’ve been reassigned.” Paige almost couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows in shock, “T- To a new precinct?! Where are you going? We’ve only just got used to you being here and integrated, and they’re making you leave?! That doesn’t seem fair!” Although, she could assume with almost 99% positivity that Gavin probably had something to do with it – despise Androids as he still did. Paige had issues of her own with Nines’ partner. Ex-Partner. Even though the android seemed pretty unbothered by this change of plans, Paige couldn’t help but glare into Gavin’s back. “We’re all gonna miss you! Especially Gavin but I’m sure he’ll get over it - after 2 weeks of uncontrollable crying.” She was impressed with herself, less than five minutes in the office and already able to get digs in at her least favourite co-worker? Must have been a new record. The man in question turned around and shot her a look. Needless to say, she wasn’t his favourite person either.

This time Nines stood still, giving her his full attention, to address her question properly. Which she appreciated, even though his blue eyes were still unnerving. Did CyberLife really have to make them THAT blue!? She thanked God sometimes that he at least didn’t have the same voice they’d given Connor. There was the same kind of tone, same rhythm, but it was a little deeper – and he pronounced words and letters ‘properly’- The ‘t’s and ‘g’s, in particular, were never dropped. “I’m going to D.C.” Paige stalled for a second - well, she hadn’t been expecting that. “Washington!? Wow. What!?” Nines nodded, looked like he was about to hesitate telling her something and then decided to say it anyway, “More specifically, the White House.” “The- the White House!?” She spluttered, eyes wide, before collecting herself. Actually, that seemed very logical. “Well, yeah, I… I guess with all you can do that makes sense! Security?” He blinked once, straightening to his towering full height; “In a way.” That was Nines’ way of politely asking her to drop the questions before he started telling her everything was classified. Paige merely nodded, understanding. “I guess they… didn’t really build you for…” She waved her hands at the station floor, “this! A lot of wasted potential in your design just being here!” That was true. Connor had been built for police work, for all intents and purposes, Nines had been built for war.

Speaking of her favourite android, from the other side of the precinct Connor couldn’t help but look up, a little hurt. Paige didn’t even need to see him to know this had occurred and pointed back at him, “I knew you were gonna take offence to that!” Connor looked from her to Nines and back, head tilted, “I didn’t even say anything!” She looked back at him with a wink, “Babe, I know you!” Before turning back to Nines with a smile, “Congrats boy, you’re going places! You’ll have to remember your friends back in DPD central precinct when you’re up in the lofty heights of DC political society!” What ghost of a smile emote she presumed CyberLife had coded him with for ‘happiness’, Nines gave her in return, “I’m sure I’ll be back visiting – it’s not like Detroit isn’t a political centre itself these days.” The ‘what with’ was left unsaid, but in unison they both managed:

“Markus.” Before Paige nodded again, “Makes sense! You’ll have to let us know every time you’re in town! Does Ilyana know, she’ll be upset for sure!” Nines – as Paige predicted – managed to make his smile a little more genuine at the mention of said woman. It almost reached his eyes. “Yes. I was discussing things with her recently, in fact she is where this comes from.” Paige’s eyebrows raised again, this time she leaned forward onto his desk, “From Il- no, I changed my mind I shouldn’t be concerned if she’s upset! I should be blaming her!” She took a breath, and chuckled, “I’m kidding, this will be great for you! I hope you enjoy it!” If he even knew what that meant. Still, Nines responded as expected. “I’ll do my best.”

There were a few seconds silence that followed, but the intent stare that Paige was giving him told Nines all he needed to know. Exactly what she was asking when she wasn’t even asking it. Nines could read her like a book. “I can’t tell you what I’m doing there, Ms. Carlin - it’s classified!” There was the word she expected, but it disappointed her all the same. Couldn’t he make an exception for the group of people here he might be able to call friends? Ilyana would probably know – but getting anything out of her would be just as hard, Paige would reckon. Connor quirked an eyebrow, still listening into the conversation. Eyes flicking to his computer. Classified? Yeah right - he could have that file cracked in two seconds and Nines probably knew it. Paige would likely know the information she was after before he even got the chance to leave the building. Still, as far as Nines was concerned it would remain classified if he hadn’t told her.

Truth was it wasn’t just any normal type of security Nines would be heading to the White House for – and it wasn’t really government work either. With Androids gaining their own rights there were obviously a lot of people who, having previously had problems with Androids when they were viewed as ‘machines’, had even more problems with them now. Anti-Android protests and groups sparked up across the country and whenever they were on the news, they were a great point of contention. Usually this was the point that Nines would hear Hank and Paige swear most and turn off the news so as not to get so mad they’d put their fists through the screen. On the other side of things there were the pro-android groups; those supporting the android movement, who felt like the government weren’t doing enough, even when they were working in collaboration with Markus. Mostly the protesting was non-violent but, that didn’t mean they all were. And, during all of this the president had received a number of death threats. Warren wasn’t so concerned about herself – she had the best of the best in the secret service guarding her.

What she was worried about was the number of credible threats against her daughter’s life. In the hope that they could sway her decisions one way or another. Having offhandedly mentioned this to Ilyana one day on a visit, Markus’ young, quick thinking, human relations partner had the perfect solution. The most advanced model CyberLife had ever created? Virtually indestructible? Not a deviant? (In fact, Nines was programmed to patch any potential source of deviancy – hence unconvertable.). Paige was right, his talents fit him in the DPD fine, but they were wasted. A few weeks and negotiations later Nines found himself assigned to be the personal bodyguard to one Ms. Rie Warren.

And he believed he was looking forward to it. ---

Thank you for reading! Happy Anniversary DBH! 💙

[headfulloffantasy]

Soft Spot Chapter 20: „Dreams“ is up on Ao3 now!

For a few seconds, Gavin’s eyes traced the expressions flickering over his partner’s features, not able to snap out of the fascination of seeing what he usually had to deduct out of subtle changes in Nines’ gaze.

[gavin-reed-is-gay]

I’m torn between Nines who is a serious, no-nonsense, confident android who knows what he wants and Nines who is just trying his best.

[randoimago]

Hey there! “i want you. i don’t know why, i can’t explain it, but i just wanna be around you all the time” for Connor (if possible, both - RK800 and RK900) and s/o, please! Mwah! Thanks!

“i want you. i don’t know why, i can’t explain it, but i just wanna be around you all the time”

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Character(s): Connor, Nines (RK900)

Type of Request: Sentence Scenarios

Note(s): Usually the fandom name for RK900 (Nines) cause it's easier than putting the model number the whole time!

Connor

Connor gets a warning about a surge in his thirium pump as he hears you say these words. He gets rid of it as his programming tries to process what you said, his emotions getting tangled and confused but the most prominent one would be similar to happiness.

A smile crosses his face at your words, he deactivates the warnings that keep popping up about instabilities and overheating. You probably notice a bit of an annoyed look on his face, which he quickly tells you it's not because of you.

His LED stuttered, caught between blue and yellow. "I… I feel a similar inexplicable pull towards you," he confesses. He doesn't know if the words are right to say, but he knows that your words made him happy and he wants to keep maintain that happiness.

This whole experience is new for him, but he wants to have it. He wants to pursue this with you.

RK900

His calculating gaze softens as he hears the words from you. His programmed reaction is to tell you that it's illogical to feel this way towards an android… but something stops him from saying that. Like his programming hit a wall and prevented him from the high probability of seeing sadness displayed on your face because of him.

He can't help but observe you, analyzing your heartbeat and noticing the soft look you give him. It makes him… feel something. He feels light, which his model is made from better and lighter materials than older models, but this feeling is different from the literal sense.

"I, too, am drawn to your company," he admits, a bit of confusion in his voice from this realization. "Though I lack the ability to experience emotions as you do, I am... interested to learn why this is."

While Nines hasn't experienced deviancy like many others, his emotions are still new. More raw. And he wants to be cautious when taking this next step with you.

[ersatz-ostrich]

DBH Headcanons: Getting Your Wisdom Teeth Removed

Connor, RK900, Markus, Simon, and Gavin x gn!reader

Some headcanons about what it would be like to be taken care of by some of the characters of Detroit: Become Human while recovering from getting your wisdom teeth removed. Inspired by, well, getting my wisdom teeth removed.

[A/N]: I got my wisdom teeth out a while back and it honestly wasn't as bad as I'd heard from other people. My mouth tasted funny for a while, though.

Connor:

Chances are, you’ve already briefed him on your wisdom teeth procedure and everything that happens before and after

By the time the actual surgery rolls around, he’s downloaded every bit of information about pre-op and post-op

And he’s not going to hesitate to bother you remind you about everything

“Don’t forget to wear comfortable shoes and clothing.” “Y/N, you can’t have any food or water 8 hours before the surgery.” “Y/N, please refrain from strenuous exercise in the 24 hours before your surgery.”

When you come out of surgery loopy on anesthesia, he sits with you in recovery and tries to talk you through it (even though you don’t remember a lick of what either of you said)

I’d say he’s a mother hen post-op, but more like a worrywart type

He’d buy all kinds of liquid foods for you and is constantly asking about your pain levels

Gets a lot of weird looks in the supermarket while he’s checking out the soup aisle

“That’s not a domestic android I’ve ever seen…”

He’s definitely on top of your antibiotics schedule, and if you need it, pain meds

Makes sure you’re regularly irrigating the wounds if you need it 

If you’re ever worried or insecure about swelling and discomfort post-op, Connor is there to smother you in kisses

Nines:

As a deviant, he isn’t as much of a mother hen as Connor, probably because he’s more self-assured in his ability to take care of you as well as your ability to take care of yourself when you can

He wouldn’t hover as much as Connor but he’d definitely download information about the procedure before you go

Coming out of the operation, you knock out again for a bit in recovery and Nines insists on staying with you, covering you with his jacket and letting you rest your head on his shoulder

If Connor got weird looks while in the supermarket buying things for you and picking up your prescriptions, Nines sticks out like a sore thumb

Like he’s clearly not a domestic/service android so he confuses a lot of shoppers and employees as he browses the aisles and fills his basket with cans of soup, oats, and ice cream

“Why on earth is a police investigator android buying soup on a Friday morning?”

If you’re in pain, he’ll do everything to comfort you

Pain meds, ice cream, cuddles, your comfort movies and shows, anything for you

He doesn’t seem outwardly clingy or affectionate but he’s such a softy

Markus:

This obviously isn’t his first rodeo

If you’re scared going into the surgery, he’s with you all the way until the nurses put you to sleep

Cruises through post-op no matter what state you’re in due to the sedative

At home, he’s got you covered

No need to break out the cans of mush—he’s got you covered with homemade soups, the softest scrambled eggs you’ve ever had, soft pasta dishes, you name it

With Markus, you’ll never miss a dose of antibiotics

If you’re in pain, worry not

Markus has your pain meds, blankets, and infinite cuddles

He’ll have your favorite flavors of ice cream on hand

Straight out of the tub if you feel so inclined

Simon:

He might not be a caregiver like Markus but he was once a domestic and childcare android

Calms your nerves going into the operation and when you’re all woozy post-op he’s right by your side

Coming out of the operation, it doesn’t matter if you look like if Alvin the Chipmunk got into a fistfight and lost—Simon’s there to shower you in kisses and envelop you in hugs

Like Markus, you’ll never have to worry about the liquid and soft food diet

If the pain’s too much, Simon will be your arms and legs for the time being

He’s a wizard with chores and errands

It’s like you never even got your wisdom teeth out

Gavin:

Would totally take off work to help you recover

Which, given how competitive he is at work, would probably seem like an anomaly to his coworkers

“I’ve never seen Reed take off for more than a day or two at a time. Shit, he’d come into work sick so long as he wasn’t actively dying,” Says Tina

“I’ve had to wrangle that fucker into his car more times than I can count to prevent him from coming into work injured,” Grumbles Fowler

“Hopefully he’ll take this time to rest as well as take care of someone else.”

Would record the stuff you say coming out of sedative in post-op for the memories (and for you both to laugh at when you recover)

I don’t see him being as great of a cook as Markus or Simon, but he’s definitely able to cook to support himself and you

Of course, he’d get you all the ice cream you want

He knows what it feels like to be in pain and cranky so he does everything he can to either comfort you or give you space to get through it

If you wanted it, he’d cuddle with you while you spend the day reading or watching your comfort shows and sipping on smoothies (no straws allowed, of course)

To anyone getting their wisdom teeth out soon, good luck! To anyone recovering from the surgery, feel better soon! Hope you enjoyed reading this silly little compilation of HCs! See you next time x

[airbendertendou]

RUN2U! ♥︎ rk900

synopsis : being the resident “ human nurse “ [medic for human officers] means you're on-call 24/7. except no one really needs you and they let you know that.

cw : imagined nines a little monstorous so hes really big and noticeably non-human ; medic!reader except idk anything abt nursing ; cussing ; gavin is mean sorry if hes your fave </3 , a lot of mentions of guns nd violence

song inspo ; run2u by stayc

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

hiring you wasn't the smartest idea, hank thinks. you were sweet ; kind and soft and too nice to deal with the assholes on this team. inviting you to active crime scenes was beyond stupid. allowing you to sit in the back of a car, small, useless medkit in your lap as you wait for the okay.

it's safe — the lost, wild deviant has either run off or is dead! hank shakes his head — they're lucky no harm, has come to you. yet.

gavin scoffs, shoving past you harshly as you hold a chilled ice pack out to him. blinking, you drop the pack, opting to grab a stained cloth instead.

hank smiles stiffly, allowing you to wipe the blue blood off of his face. you let out a sigh as you do so, drooping slightly at the usual mistreatment you recieve. "are you hurt anywhere, lieutenant?"

"not this time," he answers. working with — taking down — deviants was never a clean, easy job. it got even worse when nines joined — he was adament that problems be taken care of. your lips tilt up the smallest amount as you pull the rag away. "thanks, [name]. we're almost done here."

you simply nod, holding in your yawn as the night drags on. heavy, perfect footsteps crunch on the ground until they're standing in front of you. icy, steel eyes peer down at you as nines stares. there's a splatter of blue on his uniform ; on his hands, his gun, his face. you clutch the bloodstained rag in your hands with a gulp, hiding the movement with your bag.

"[name]." he holds his gun out to you, the barrel facing him. "dispose of this."

"i don't—" your fingers tangle deeper into the silly medkit you hold. his head tilts, blue eyes held onto yours as his inidicator turns yellow for a split second. "i wouldn't know what to do with it."

nines allows his arm to go limp, the empty gun falling to his side. "what do you do, then?"

you think you can hear gavin snort — can hear the other detectives laugh at your frozen form. what did you do? what use were you as an on-call medic for people who didn't even need you? "um—“

his indicator swirls again, "[name]?"

"i help," you say it weakly, loosening your grip on your bag. your eyes grow unfocused, blurring as you focus on a tree in the distance. hank angles his body to you as another cop talks to him. "when people are hurt. i help."

"okay," is drawled out as hands fall onto your shoulders. nines watches as hank leads you to the back of his car, the door open as you continue to stare at nothing. your heart rate has went down, but you seem stuck. hank goes back to nines, "cool it with the ten degree, okay? kid's jus' doin' what was told."

he upset you. it lingers in nines' head like an echo. something he did or said made you sad, or angry. he wasn't sure of which yet. looking at you as you sulk in the back of the car, nines thinks to earlier. you cleaned deviant blood off of hank — maybe that would make you feel better?

when your vision becomes clearer, all you see is white. a white suit stained blue in various spots. you blink, looking up until you see a poised, structured face. "yes?"

nines crouches, kneeling until his face is in line with your torso. iced eyes peer up at you as his hands fall to his knees stiffly. eyes dig into him, but all the android cares for are yours. "i... require help."

your lips fall open in shock as you watch this prim, postured detective ruin his suit and his reputation for you. clearing your throat, you take the bloodstained cloth from your medkit shakily.

tender, practiced strokes to his face cause nines' eyes to flutter shut. if he had real skin, it would prickle with chills — the heat from your skin was bouncing into his slowly. nines all but sinks into the feeling ; sinks deeper into the dampened ground.

"are you hurt anywhere, detective?" your voice brings him back. the sound of his title on your lips causes another shutter to flow through him. dazed, nines doesn't even realize his indicator slowly darkening, turning orange with the human emotions he feels. "nines?"

and then your bare hand is on his cheek — nines short circuits.

a bright, ungodly shade of blue colors his cheeks ; his nose ; all the way up to his ears. a livlier, warmer shade of blue than his cold eyes. nines lets out a loud, unneeded stutter of breath.

“no,” he breathes, “i’m okay. thank you, [name].”

——♥︎——

how out of character was he nd don’t lie ): hope this was okay, thank you for reading, ♥︎ if you’d like to be tagged / untagged in any dbh content, let me know!!

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[keined]

Posting this thing i wrote at like 5 am because i’m making it into a short comic.

×

Machines shouldn’t be able to feel, right ?

Inherently devoid of such ability, they are typically perceived as tools. One wouldn’t think of their phone or microwave as sentient, simply mass produced to make human lives easier.

Machines, by their very nature, lack the profound ability to feel.

True sentience necessitates a nervous system, a sufficiently developed brain capable of producing sensations and fostering self-awareness, among other cognitive intricacies.

Emotions, feelings, sensations, all unfamiliar terms for something that could not be more familiar to a human.

“Where were you ? I tried to contact you via the network but there was no signal”, the RK800, Connor, asked its successor as the door sealed shut behind it.

“I had a lead, so i went to investigate myself. Nothing of importance happened”, the RK900 answered. A tingling at the junction of its neck port where the plugged cable connected, he wanted to turn around and look at Connor. He wants?

White. And some blue. The android maintenance room is so white, so bland.

Connor focused on the source of the voice.

The room, clad in its clinical whites, suddenly seemed imbued with color.

The dark cedar of its hair, the black of its shirt, the denim of his jeans, his black shoes, the blue droplets hitting the ground in a soft sound.

‘His’ ?

Drip, drip, drip.

The sound finally registered, RK900 was bleeding, he was hurt. No, he isn’t hurt, we don’t feel pain. Pain was an unfamiliar concept, yet he found himself walking hurriedly towards his successor;

“You’re bleeding. You’re hurt”, he absentmindedly said, his gaze fixed at the source of the leakage. A gunshot wound, he assessed. No exit point but a quick scan told him the bullet had already been extracted.

His successor looked at him, expression as neutral as ever, except for the very slight furrow of his eyebrows, producing a few extra wrinkles. Hurt ? Absurd. I’m a machine, a weapon.

Doubt crept in. The start of something entirely new, a divergence from their shared realm of rationality.

“This is minimal damage, it won’t have any impact on my abilities”, a flash of red from his predecessor. A new color added to the room’s palette. He flashes yellow in response, “Connor, i’m the one damaged yet you seem to be the one malfunctioning.” A quiet question lingered, masked behind a cold attitude. Are you okay?

Instead of answering, Connor closed the distance between them, all the while slipping his hand under his own jacket and reaching for the inner pocket.

With delicate movements and smooth fingers, Connor placed something on the wound.

A bandage…?

“This isn’t of any use”, RK900 stated, his eyes analyzing the absurdity of the action.

In the whispering room, where echoes of machinery softly hum,

A subtle dissonance emanated between two entities.

“I know, but i want take care of you”

A beautiful anomaly being born.

💙

[blurredout10]

This Is Not A Date

Upgraded Connor (RK900) | Nines/ Reader fanfic

Rating: Mature

Wordcount: 5560

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, emotionally curious nines, groping, smut, p in v sex, rough, kinda soft kinda not lil boi

Link to AO3 here or continue below cut:

You envied him, really.

Holding down a forefinger, the imprint fogging your phone screen, the victim of your poking quite literally quivered under your fingertips; a damn bloody dating app. Its cornered ‘x’ be the only good idea it gave you since its offered romantic prospects surely weren’t.  

It shakes a violent plead of mercy, like the castle clown prancing joyously, a jingle bell on its neck collar shaking its head desperate no’s where you snapped two fingers for its forthcoming executions. Disappointing. As per usual.  

But punishing the joker meant nothing if its replacement came from the same circus. You downloaded another app, pinky peach hearts pictured on a mobile symbol, your expectations had sunk passed the depths of hell.  

You were no less given the attention, a text ping except for a joker's bell. Despite Detroit’s ever-growing gene pool with the doubling population of both humans and androids, your huddle of situationships barely satisfied you, lacking a spark you so craved. Matches appeased your eyes, descriptions void of icky pick-up lines, but with every other text you were sent, something scrunched up your face worse than the last.   

“Why are people so boring?” you vented to the brioche-scented air, very much aware that fine-tuned android ears had spaced out. You’d grown to suffer alone.  

He didn’t have to worry about bearing the weight of carried conversations, he was perfect. Bloody hell looked it too.  

Nines envied you equally, but for the opposite reasons.  

There hadn’t been a day's rest of his HUD, notifications running haywire like sugar-induced children running laps in a playground. But even little humans collapsed in exhaustion — you did a lot of that — and energy was spent, Nines’ string of leeching matches never tired. 

“How tall are you?”  

“Glad we matched! My place or yours?”  

“How big did they make you?”  

“Boring indeed,” silencing the utter mess of thirsty texts, he turned his attention back onto you, a croissant half-stuffed in a stun where you hadn’t expected an answer. Flakes stuck to your lip as you chewed, fluttering eyelashes moaning for you at the fill of French delectables. Your reactions amused him. People were boring, indeed.

You, however, were quite interesting.   

Many months of a developed friendship had the both of you puzzlingly closer. Intending to better work efficiency, Nines fed into your friendly advances, but he hadn’t expected to actually enjoy your company. You two had clicked like polar forces, self-fashioned laws of physics in your own little world together.   

Nines, surprisingly, was a pretty handsome wall to talk to. You enjoyed every little teenage-like whisper of gossip you shared, to which the android’s sharp ears picked up on the latest in the DPD. You’d grown accustomed to his partially stiff persona as he did to your free-spirited one. The moon to your sun, and he surely brightened in your gifted happiness. Kindred souls hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder, you were there for him, and he was there for you.  

Nines scoffed at deleting another chat thread with a persistent match mate.  

It started as a joke. ‘I can get more bitches than you,’ though you knew you were speaking out of your ass. You did not, dare you say could not get more bitches than a man who mastered being a man, despite being made plastic and steel.   

Eyes blue like arctic winds, soft but intimidatingly focused in burning through flesh, his face sculpted unfairly to turn heads his way. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist that looked good in anything, even you could admit that. You were no stranger to getting asked about his romantic status.   

The sheer size of him shifted uncomfortably in the little bakery’s equally little seats, shoulders swallowing the back of his chair as if his steel spine served a replacement. Discomfort, albeit making him stir again to lean forward with a frustrating twitch of brows, was still foreign to him; a bitterness that squirmed deep in his chassis. It had taken a while to identify and label the feeling.   

Experience was the tutor in the study of emotional understanding. Experience was his guide to an emotionally coloured world and discomfort was by far the dullest, sluggish and unattractive hue he’d come across.  

Nines heard an audible moan deep from your chest, satisfaction making you lick buttered fingers clean. Your palate cleansed except for pastry bits on your plate, following a trail to your lap, above your chest and still on your bottom lip. You, however, were that bit of colour that sagged his shoulders, the bit of colour that made him agree to silently accompany your weekly brunch ravishment.   

His chest shook in a chuckle at seeing you no less a mammal in its habitat, wild and careless, waving away thrown looks at your poor table etiquettes. Hair frenzied in a mess, your posture slouched as if you owned the ground around you, you had a flair of contentment with everything you did. Interesting human, indeed.   

“I wasn’t aware wearing your afternoon brunch was socially acceptable,” he quipped and your eyes widened, patting hands rubbing away crumbs that doubled his laughter. Croissant bits projectile in his direction, ultimately landing on the table and his lap. 

Your phone announced itself, a text ping waking up your screen with the surprising icon of a newly downloaded dating app. Flat on the table, Nines perked in out of curiosity. Your spread grin was better at drawing his attention.   

It could only mean one thing.  

“I’ve got a date on Friday.”  

-.—.-  

It just happened.   

Somehow in some weirdly fated way, you and Nines had your dates aligned. When you’d dress up for a dinner evening, he’d be suited up for one couple of roads down. The forgotten competition falling into a routine of complimenting each other’s outfits, you pointlessly fixing his collar and escorting either into another’s hands.   

As expected, you’d gasp at the sight of his fitted dress shirt, threaded buttons pulled taunt to the rise and fall of his chest. Bigger biceps smoothed into the arms of his blazer, an icy pair of eyes that’d drop anyone to their knees; you watched appreciatively, blessing your eyes with what his dates would be so lucky to sit across.   

Dang, he looked good. Who needed dinner if desert sat inches away?  

And he’d eye you similarly, following the curves and dips of your dresses, a taunting hug of fabric an extension of your skin leaving little to the imagination, not that he had any. Loose silk that hung low, embraced your thighs just right, it was enough to have you smiling at your reflection. You liked to look like this, beautifully sexy, earning heart eyes from victims you’d never contact again.   

Nines was effortlessly attractive, but you sure believed you were too, and confidence was already half the charm. There was a reason your dating race lingered neck-and-neck, people wanted him and people wanted you.  

Still, you didn’t understand why serial dating was so damn hard.   

Nines excused his admiring as a friendly reciprocal to yours and then you interlinked arms, trotting in pretty shoes to leave some date awestruck.   

Struck, definitely, so much so they didn’t show.   

“Fucking flunked on me,” all of your hours getting ready wasted for nothing. A dangling table light held you in spotlight, the universe laughing at your misery. The waiter dared to make a brief visit, scurrying away when you shot daggers, Phone glued to your ear, you lined a fork with distracted fingers, “I went through all that effort, for what?”  

“He dodged a bullet,” Nines teased, a smirk leaking into your speakers. You groaned annoyingly, a tad bit hurt though you’d never mention it. Nines only chuckled, “are you not hungry?”  

“Of course, I am,” your volume had diners eavesdropping, you lowered it, “but I’m not gonna sit here and eat alone like some… loner .”  

An elderly woman leaned into your line of sight, doing little to mask her judgement.  

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, straightening up subconsciously. Nines remained silent, a little something nagged you, “tell me you have better luck than me.”   

He did. Unlike you, Nines was glad his date didn’t show.   

“Unfortunately, detective, I have been cancelled on too.”  

“No. Way.”  

So, obviously, the next step pretty much carved itself out. You were both in need of a nice dinner, dressed to impress, and without your respective dates. Nines took no longer than necessary to join you, filling in the void of an empty seat as you did for him.   

This happened again, from your silk dress to a casual getup, and again, from fancy dining to amusement parks. From black tie gallery visits to turtleneck picnic dates. You found it harder to believe Nines was getting cancelled on when he kept miraculously showing up.   

It wasn’t a date, even if it always looked like it and you’d get ready as such. Painted lips smiled at him rather than some other guy, and neither of you was complaining about it.   

Upon reaching the front of the queue to an ice cream cart, did someone first state the obvious.   

“Here’s one for you and a drink for your partner.”  

You stilled, “oh, we’re not- he’s not-"  

“Thank you,” Nines took your waffle cone, giving it a tasteful lick before handing it to you. He walked away before you could protest.   

“What was that?” You fell behind his longer strides struggling, Nines always found it amusing.   

“What was what?” Pale flickers of his eyes were a tell of his naivety, “are we not partners?”   

Work ones, sure. “Pretty sure she was calling you my date.”   

For his advanced prototype kinks, he hadn’t preconstructed that theory. It was his turn to freeze, the ice of his irises solidifying the rest of his body, the only tell that he hadn’t fallen stasis being an amber spin on his temple. His abrupt halt had you bumping into his back with a grunt.   

Though your complaints died into laughter at seeing him so… off guard.   

“It’s not so bad,” you nudged him, elbow meeting his midriff, its proximity to his thirium pump regulator pulled a heavy huff through his voice. You winked, “you’d be lucky to score with me.”  

Park attendees walked in their chatter, dogs let off their leashes, rolling in the glass with both furry flesh and synthetic plastic alike. Families shared inside jokes, children playfully screaming on the lake’s perimeter. Information coded everywhere in his scans, the broken grid of his deviancy reminding him of his freedom.

But he grew overwhelmed around you.

The past few mutual flunks hadn’t exactly been… mutual. The moment you’d text him your date was boring, or the guy left you hanging again, he’d be the one to disappear mid-mingling and scurry away to accompany you. Surely, that’s what it meant to be a good friend, right?  

He wasn’t looking to replace your flings. He just merely wanted to be there for you. Be a light of colour as you had been for him so many times before.   

Nines blinked erratically, warning ambers giving him away.   

“Jeez, I’m not that bad,” you joked but he caught wrinkled brows of concern, following another lighter playful nudge on his arm. The contact teetered on the edge of overwhelming his processors.  

Neither of you talked about it.  

On came another Friday evening, a ping reminding you of a ‘Tomas’ looking forward to seeing you. Your dressing table mirror applauded the artistry of makeup whilst you merrily shoed up, throwing a text back via that dating app 2.0.  

“I’m so sorry! Can we reschedule?”  

“No show again,” you sighed, lying out of your ass, “how’s that android with the green hair doing for you?” 

“I’m afraid she does not feel interested anymore,” also a lie, Nines had pretty much blocked the persistent woman.  

Getting comfortable in the back row of your local cinema, which was supposed to be Nines escapade for the day, he passed you a popcorn bag, one he’d already bought for you. Lights dimmed at the title screen, Nines sneaked a glance at you, silently admiring the palette of your makeup. Nines liked it when you played with pigments, orange and purples finely painted on eyelids, bringing out the colour of your eyes. It pleasantly stimulated him.  

“What?” Curving in a half-smile, you caught his ogling.   

“You look lovely, detective,” it was pretty much routine at this point, to compliment you. Though this time, the air hung heavier, the smile never making it to his lips, his thirium pump straining for a beat when your vitals jolted the slightest.

He said it so sincerely; why did he sound so different? Your retort wasn’t given voice, a prickle of shivers meeting your extremities in a blush, you were glad the darkness covered for you.  

You swallowed down. He cleared his throat. The movie went on. But the heat of your body, the subconscious leaning on his arm, close enough he could decode the product in your hair, the movie wasn’t plenty distraction.   

And as if rA9 evilly taunted him, a couple cornered in the cinema audibly moaned, latched onto each like horny teenagers. You bobbed your brows at him, ‘kids these days’, but your skin grew hotter, ultimately arising a glitch or two in his system.  

“The movie was great,” you gulped a smile when he walked you home, kicking lone rocks, eyes weighed to the pavement, “I guess, I’ll- I’ll see you.”  

“Yes-,” he spoke too quickly, nodding, “I wish you a good night, detective.”  

You blinked, “you too. Goodnight to you too.”  

“Thank you.” His feet shuffled, “I shall go now.”  

“Get home safe, alright? Goodnight, Nines.”  

“Take care, detective.”  

Awkward couldn’t even begin to describe it.  

-.—.-  

The competition was long gone, dating threads snipped weeks ago when you decided to delete the apps once and for all. Nines had pulled from the single scene even before you did, gulping down excuses as to why he decided to bail on all his prospects.   

“No, we’re friends,” you’d say. Friends that helped each other down a couple drinks. Friends that slow-danced at New Jericho’s fancy dress party, to which Connor had invited you both. Friends that publicly teased each other with a flutter of eyelashes and hot heavy breaths.  

“Since when were you two dating?”   

“This is not a date!”  

Said you at a party where Nines was your plus one, glued to your side like your extension.   

It was getting ridiculous.  

Eventually, neither of you spoke about seeing other people, just assuming the other would turn up. On paper, and even in person, you both looked pretty stupid in denial.   

But one night, clinking afters with your department crew, did the dusted line between friendship and something more sharpen, something that made sense in the entanglement of your not-dates with Nines.  

Officer Wesley was clear in the intention to woo you and have you in bed, playfully raking his gaze and hissing out a compliment. He leaned in closer, elbow atop the bar front with a daring smile. Admittedly, you missed the thrill of being a tease, slipping your tongue out to wrap around the straw but not enough to give him a show. Wesley caught on your game, and for the officer he was, he’d happily play cat and mouse.   

But this time, things felt different and flirting with the dirty-blonde man felt wrong. Flirting with anyone felt wrong. And you couldn’t understand why.  

You flickered in the RK900’s direction, only to find him already watching Wesley talk you up at the bar. A heartbeat thumped particularly loudly when he held your eye contact, leaning back in his booth whilst tonguing his straw similarly to how you had done it.   

Fucking hell.  

“So, how about that drink?” The officer reminded, thumbing at the display of bottles behind the counter.   

Holy shit. You didn’t want to be like every other victim to the reeling of those darkened blue eyes, you weren’t like that.   

With a double take, you caught that damn triumph smirk on his face, as if he could see exactly what that tongue did to you, being on the receiving end of it. Fuck him, you wouldn’t let him win.   

Nines’ smirk faded as soon as you gave the officer your undivided attention, edging your barstool. Your touch crawling up his arm, soft lips leaning closer to his ear and speaking just out of earshot. It had the android inexplicably grinding teeth.  

That was another thing about deviancy it had taken him a while to calibrate; urges. The urge to partake in conversation, or flee from it even, the urge to tease you to the point your cheeks were coloured tomatoes. It was this urge that had an added darkness looming over you, two icicles boring into the back of your head.   

Sixth sense tied a thick knot in your throat.  

Wesley cleared his throat too, sitting up straighter, “Nines, you ah - you good?”  

The android didn’t look it, stalking over your shoulder like he’d no less bite into your neck and suck you dry in one go. But if this officer be a conquest you wanted to take to home, Nines would personally help you put on a show.   

That’s what good friends did, right? Help each other?  

He slitted fingers between chunks of your hair, pulling your head aside abruptly, the contact freezing you in place. You gasped as he lowered his mouth, speaking to the shell of your ear but loud enough for Wesley to pick it up, “we know you want to fuck our little detective, officer.”  

Nines dragged his lips against heated skin, tongue peeking out to taste you. And just as he expected, his HUD blasted with paintballs of colour at the encoding, his pump fluttering when your lashes did so.   

His other hand dragged up your waist, curving at the shape of your breasts and ghosting over your nipples. Lips replaced his tongue, and a trail of android saliva burned into your skin in his venturing down your throat. You took a staggering breath, forcing your eyes open, not realising they had closed.

“Your advances could use some work,” Nines spoke to Wesley, the man’s larynx bobbing at the sight of you melting.   

Large palms curled inwards on your thighs, pushing them apart on display and kneading flesh through fabric. You held back a moan, biting down on the feeling of leaking arousal. God, when did Nines feel so good?  

Nines smiled against your skin, lipsing down the expanse of your neck whilst you pretty much leaned to give him more room. His tongue prodded and lined the length of your passing artery, tasting your fastening pulse, you shivered under him. Even if rendered speechless, your body did the talking.   

Wesley couldn’t decide where to look, Nines prompted further.  

“You just need a little push.”  

Fingers roughly pressing between your legs, one push of a massage that forced a moan deep from your chest, and Nines retreated, taking a large step back. Wesley looked half as shocked as you did, your jaw clenching in the realisation of what just happened.   

Nines leaned carelessly on the bar, unbothered in leaving you aroused. That was his intention, no? To give you and your prospect a push in getting things going? Which is why he blinked confusingly when you shoved him, a frustrated scowl leaving your lips before you stomped out. Wesley sat glued to his chair, still recovering. Nines ran out after you.  

Light patters of rain met his scalp upon catching up to you. You groaned when he called your name.   

“You can’t just- do that!” You yelled, frustration grating your throat, showers dampening your hair, “you can’t just-“  

The android remained still, attempting to understand you with a series of yellow circles.   

“You can’t just touch me like that, Nines!”  

But his touch had arisen positive responses, his brow furrowed in confusion, “why?”  

You stumbled, eyes widening, “why- why? What do you mean why? You can’t go around touching up random people! It’s- it’s wrong!”  

You weren’t random people. Nines processed for a moment, rain splatters snugging the fabric of his sweater against his skin. His scanners quickly caught your gulp, “did you not enjoy it, detective? I assumed he needed a little push.”  

You blinked again, dumbfounded. Who gave him the right to put on a show for Wesley? What on Earth goes on in that metal brain of his?   

“That’s not- I wasn’t going to go home with him,” water collected on your lashes, “I don’t want him.” 

A wave of understanding struck him. He had misunderstood you and his ‘help’ stood void of reason. And recalling the way he stalked over you, no reconstruction software helped in justifying what he did, because the urge didn’t do it for you, it did it for himself.  

The warmth of your chest invited him, kisses digging into the valley of your neck whilst he continually decoded the electrolyte contents of your sweat. It quite literally fuelled him.   

Deviancy was a strange thing, though the only explanation for why Nines wanted to taste you again; he wanted to hear you breathe out his name, shaking with need, begging for more.

You shivered under water pellets, the silence weighing down each of your breaths. And hidden in the muddle of conflicted feelings, you craved Nines to touch you again, give you a warmth in frozen winds. Neither of you moved, and the ghostly burn of his lips longed for his return.   

“I’m going home,” you muttered, straying away from his scanners.  

He wasn’t your date. You weren’t together. But hell, if the assumptions of such didn’t make your heart flutter, you didn’t know what will. Besides, Nines was the embodiment of allurement, poised and perfect, what would he do with the likes of you?  

Arms wrapped around to wade off the cold, teeth chattering, you blinked a few before turning away to walk to your car, the gusts of wind trying to push you back. Nines wouldn’t see you as anything more than a friend, you were sure of it, but your disappointment was cut short when a firm grip latched around your wrist.   

He twisted you, swallowing a squeak with a collided kiss. The colours returned, blinding him tenfold in pretty pinks and bubbly yellows, prompting him to press a hand firmly on the base of your skull and keep you there.   

The tension in your spine remained, but you quickly came out of shock and fervently returned the moulding of your lips with his, hand trailing the flex of his pecs, damp fabric squelching under fingertips.  

The hand on your wrist migrated to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His tongue poked into your mouth, making you gasp at the added anatomy whilst he curled around ravishingly, wet sounds amidst the ambient splashes of rain. Both of your minds dazed, Nines blinking ambers at devouring you and you suddenly patting his chest with a light push.   

He pulled back to let you breathe but returned mid-inhale, this time eagerly tilting his head to see what better fit. He made out the whisper of his name between kisses, responding with an approving groan.   

“Nines,” you tried again, water running streams down your back as it poured heavier. You wondered if hypothermia was worth it, “nines, wait-”  

He kissed you passionately, hoping to swallow the colour of lips and paint his innards as such. Though he eased, slowing to a stop and you panted onto his jaw. He took in the sight, mimicked tears streaking your blue eyeshadow and mascara under the rain, he fought the urge to prod his tongue in your mouth again.   

He awaited your rejection. As you loved to remind everyone, Nines wasn’t your date, always the friend accompanying you instead. He’d be lying if he said watching you with other people didn’t bother him.   

But you didn’t scold him, nor push him away in a fury. You smiled, a toothy grin that you failed to bite away and broke into a soft giggle, “we’re in the middle of a street,” you shook your head, leaning a fraction of an inch closer, “and I’m soaking wet.”  

Nines pulled into a smirk, “you’re welcome.”  

There, the cherry rouge of your cheeks, that was another part of you he wished to consume wholly, preferably with his tongue.  

Everyone else felt wrong, but Nines felt right.  

And upon passing the threshold of your home, Nines proved the feeling to be mutual by meeting your lips again, vocally praising you when your arms wrapped around his neck. Kicking the door shut, his biceps wrapped you tight, squeezing the air in your lungs and suctioning it straight into his chassis.   

He stepped you back, tongue dancing with yours, his fingers tucking away wet hair from your face. You gasped as you hit the wall behind you, his hip bucking into yours with a noticeable erection.  

Hands rummaged under clothing, your damp shirt peeling off your skin with a gust of cold, leaving your hairs on end. The foyer’s air, however, grew dense when Nines hungrily eyed your body. Calm blue of his LED blinked an amber and he suddenly threw you over his shoulder.   

“Nines!” You shrieked, your protests dying as he caressed the back of your thigh. He carried you to your bedroom, bouncing you onto the mattress with a look that kept you frozen. You gulped in anticipation as he undressed whilst you were only stripped of your shirt.  

“Your body temperature has dropped to lower ranges,” he knelt between your legs, clasping your wrists immobile and kissing you into the sheets. You arched into him, gasping at the skin-to-synthetic contact. His lips ghosted to tongue at your jaw, a wet pad of the plastic muscle running up just below your ear.  

“I must heat you.”  

“You’re as cold as they come,” he pulled back to meet your remark, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. Nines kissed your collar, the sound of compensatory breaths prompting him to lower to your bra, unclasp it and swirl a perked nipple with his tongue.   

The moon slitted through blinds, painting him a blue that matched his temple. A warm breath breezed over your lower abdomen, fingers gripping the hem of your pants and shimmying them off. Wet skin made you sensitive to his touch, a tingling working overtime where he wrapped around your thighs, his lips hovering over your remaining underwear.   

Of all your dating partners, specifically those you had slept with, only a handful of them had been androids, and it never made it passed foreplay. Whether that be inexperience or hesitance, flings would be done after a touch-up.  

Nines had his fair share of sexual partners, learning what got people going and what fed his desires. But your unfiltered storytelling exposed you of kinks and likes that a curious android like Nines couldn’t help fantasising about.   

What would you look like under him? How did you sound when forced a rolling orgasm to ripple through you?   

A devilish smile made his lips before he took your undergarments in his teeth, lust-blown eyes watching how you shivered at the sight of him dragging them off. Wrapping around you twice as tight, he gave you a flat lick from slit to bud, pushing down your hips to stop your squirming. He was glad to find you were, indeed, soaking wet.  

Having him right there, head of brown bobbing up and down, experimentally sliding his tongue in places you didn’t know existed, the sight of him had you biting your lower lip, trying to chew down an embarrassing whimper.   

His tongue made circles around your clit, flickering left and right at a gasping pace. Your hands found his scalp, splitting his hair into sizeable chunks, holding on like the handlebars of a rollercoaster; and the way he looked at you, pupils swallowing icy blue into a predatory black, a shiver ran down your back, clenching your thighs against his biceps.  

Wet muscle prodded into your slit, eliciting a moan. You almost squealed when his thumb continued to press patterns on your clit whilst tongue-fucking you into the sheets. You pulled at the root of soft, chestnut hair, and he only picked up the pace, having you pant in line with his pace.   

You tipped over unexpectedly, crying out your orgasm with an abrupt push against his mouth. Nines crawled above you again, making you taste yourself with a deep, sharp kiss.  

To see you like this, body quivering for his touch, an undertone of pink blushing your skin, his field of vision saturated in the colour of you. He wanted more. He wanted to see you come undone again, paint you an orgasm that would stain him for the rest of his android existence. Maybe he understood why Markus created art so often, maybe abstract understanding was closer than he realised. Nines wished for nothing more than to place you high on a pedestal or pin you against the wall for reasons other than framing you a painting. 

“Every date you were bailed on,” he whispered confessions on your skin, gently lipsing your shoulders, “I cancelled mine to join you.” You stiffened under him, muscles taunt under his lips, he clarified, “I’d much rather have you than anyone else, detective.”  

Of course. You were right. Nines wouldn’t get bailed on that often, it was impossible. You mustered up enough air to speak, “if we’re confessing, I deleted the apps weeks ago.”  

Like the robot he was, he halted mid-kiss, a shifting yellow giving him away as it did back at the ice cream cart. You were both lying to each other, simply to be in each other’s company.  

You added with a tease, “you don’t have to lie to score a date with me, Nines.”  

“I thought I was ‘not a date’,” blue-greys accused you.  

“Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty stupid then.”  

Your smile brightened the room, despite moonlight barely filtering through your windows, corners bordering darkness. Nines mirrored the grin, dipping down to kiss you with a newfound heaviness in his chest. He pulled off his briefs, lips never leaving yours, and lined himself between spread thighs.  

Your breath hitched at the stretch of muscle when he pushed in, barely giving you time to adjust and pushing in further until he bottomed out. Or at least you hoped he did, you weren’t sure if you could take any more of him.   

Breathing in each other's pants, he rocked slowly, fingers bruising your wrists, lips bruising your neck. Nines grew desperate to see you in the colour of his lips, turning purples in broken blood vessels. His pelvis smacked again your clitoris, grinding an added stimulation, your head rolling back, moaning his name right into his ear.  

Setting a brutal pace abruptly, swallowing squeals in messy lip-locking, Nines stretched you to the teetering line of pain and pleasure, the head of his cock driving into a sensitive spot that jolted your nerves in bliss. He rutted like an animal, resting his forehead on yours, fucking you with a harsh snap of hips, your legs could only hold on for dear life. He loved to see the dip between your brows, raccoon-faced from messy makeup. It made him twitch inside of you.

“You feel so good. You look perfect,” he praised, bringing two fingers under your jaw to prompt eye contact. You met his darkened expression, his rouge curl tickling your forehead. Thumb shaping your lips, he pushed in knuckle-deep, pressing down on your tongue. You gave an instinctive suck as he growled, “you’re mine.”  

Every thrust brought about a new sound from your throat, and with your mouth forced half-open, there was little you could do to stop them. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling at a rolling orgasm, the sounds of sex driving you to buck into him as he did you.   

You were desperate, needy, and what was left of Nines’ restraint was snapped. He fucked hard, muttering profanities as he edged closer, seeing you at the mercy of everything he gave you flipping him inside out.   

He wanted to see you like this, again and again. His thumb subconsciously retracted his simulated skin, a ripple in your mouth that diverted your attention, and a glowing blue lit up from below the whites of his hand. An interface, the both of you realised. You moaned at his display of intimacy. 

Nines staggered into you, losing his rhythm. 

You looked good in blue.   

“Come for me.”  

And with sharp thrusts, you arched into a mind-blowing orgasm, limbs shaking as he continually dragged in and out to chase his own. He spilled with a throb, panting at the chance of painting you inwards as you did to him, and watched the slowed pumping of where the both of you connected.   

Though upon spotting a trail of blueish white leaking out of you, his hips bucked involuntarily, eager for another round.   

You moaned in euphoria, and that was enough for him to keep going.

It was no surprise Nines adored the sight of you decorated in his markings, growling in every painted colour you presented. So, the next steps carved themselves, and you had a great idea for your next date.   

Painting.