#android reader

CW: nsfw, objectification, dehumanization, dubious consent (she's an android so she can't really consent), groping, vaginal fingering, spitting, blowjob/oral, deep throating, cum ingestion.

You are the newest addition in the line of the sex toy industry, a hyper realistic android whose entire purpose is to serve humankind as sexual relief.

Today is the first day you have been turned on since early manufacturing tests, because today you are undergoing quality control before being displayed at a store sometime soon.

Standing completely naked in the middle of a sterile, gray walled room, the only furniture around is a single metal chair with a small table beside it, and a twin sized cot bed pushed against the corner.

The small ring of LED light at your temple shines blue while you wait as instructed, not moving a muscle. Then, the door slides open and a man in a short sleeved, charcoal colored jumpsuit walks in, sporting the CyberLife company logo on his breast pocket.

His dark blonde hair is pushed back to reveal an attractive face, or at least that's what you would assume most humans would think according to your knowledge on common beauty standards.

He doesn't look in your direction as he walks up to you, his eyes focused on a tablet he’s holding in a gloved hand, a look of concentration on his features.

“WR400 Traci Unit, model number 24R-7706?” he asks without lifting his gaze from the screen.

“Yes.”

Your response is immediate, voice steady and measured—you’re ready for whatever might be required of you.

The man taps the device a couple of times with his fingers, before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours with ice blue eyes.

“I’m Leon, I will be your handler today.”

“Nice to meet you, Leon.”

He gives you a casual nod, before setting the tablet on the metal table and causing a clink. He then removes his worker gloves one by one, placing them down with a silent thump.

Turning back to look you up and down, he takes in your appearance, your whole body completely exposed to him as he inspects it.

He steps closer, his focused gaze tracing your facial features for anything out of place, then his eyes drop to your lips.

“Open your mouth.”

You comply with his request without question, and you remain silent while he examines your teeth and tongue, even lifting the slick muscle to show him the underside of it.

Seemingly satisfied, he steps back then orders you again with a neutral tone.

“Turn around.”

You immediately do as told, facing the wall while he continues to observe you silently.

Two hands on your hips make you startle slightly—something you’ve been designed to do to deliver the thrill of illiciting a surprised reaction to the consumer.

Leon doesn't say anything, instead he slides a palm lower, groping your ass cheeks one by one, making a small ‘hm’ of contentment when he finds them adequate enough.

Without asking, he spins you around to face him again, his gaze focused down on your moving legs while you stare back at him curiously.

His hands move up to fondle your breasts without warning, squeezing the soft flesh and twisting your nipples while you moan softly, the electronic receptors on your manufactured skin activating with a tingle.

He nods again to himself, seemingly satisfied with the test so far.

“Spread out.”

As you do, moving to plant your bare feet wider, his right hand cups your pussy, giving it a testing squeeze, before he crouches down to examine you better.

Leon spreads your labia with his thumbs to take a better look at your inner folds with the same detached expression a mechanic would have while inspecting an average motor. Though, there is a growing bulge at his groin as his digit brushes your made-to-be-sensitive clit.

Every sound you’re coded to produce only spurs him on to continue his observation, probing a finger inside your tight, artificial cunt.

“What's your lubricant reservoir level?” he looks up at you while continuing to feel your hole.

“64%”

At that, he straightens back up with a nod, then steps to the table to input gathered information onto the tablet while muttering something to himself about a 'lubricant refill.’

“There's only enough time for an oral test today.”

“Okay.”

“You'll start with demonstrating your skills and then I’ll take over to test your throat. All clear?”

“All clear.”

“Knees,” he orders as he turns back to you, uttering the single word sentence in a nonchalant tone as he begins to unzip his jumpsuit.

You obey instantly, the synthetic skin of your legs coming into contact with the cold floor as you kneel in front of him, your hands flat on your thighs.

You watch him silently as his chest is revealed, the zipper sliding down with a sharp sound that fills the silent room. He continues lowering it until it reaches his crotch, exposing the black boxer briefs he’s wearing underneath.

Without hesitation, Leon lowers the elastic band of his underwear to take out his semi formed erection, then proceeds to jerk himself to full hardness while watching you like the pornographic sight you’re designed to be.

Once his veiny cock is ready, he steps back to sit on the chair, resting his elbows on the armrests and spreading his legs wider in a relaxed position.

🔉🔉🔉.

You crawl to him dutifully without being asked, until you’re settled between his thighs, waiting for permission.

“Come on,” he ushers you to move, a slight hint of impatience in his otherwise neutral tone.

That is all you need to lean in and take his cockhead in your mouth, making him release a low grunt at the contact.

You bring a hand to hold his base to jerk him at the same time to optimize stimulation, but notice the glide is too dry. So, your software quickly works to find a solution, the ring at your temple flashing yellow until you land on a fix. You spit on his veiny length to glisten it—saliva being a resourceful fluid in times of intercourse.

He groans, his hips jerking slightly from the movement, before relaxing again as he intently keeps his eyes on you while the LED turns back to blue.

You use every technique you’ve been programmed to perform. You lick and kiss his heavy cock from base to tip, then slurp the head and suckle it into your lifelike mouth as your artificial tongue wets his skin.

Leon doesn't say anything to praise you, but he doesn't hold back on making approving sounds either. Your bionic eyes track each one of his reactions to ensure you're delivering optimal results. Every scrunch of his eyebrows, every grunt, every hitch of his breath, only spur you to continue pleasing him as the ideal man serving-machine you were made to be.

You decide to deepthroat him next, bobbing your head forward and taking him in as much as you can while your throat chokes around his tip. It’s a deliberate design choice to make the experience as realistic as can be. You know you can turn the gag reflex on or off depending on what the situation calls for.

Leaving it on for now seems to be the right choice, however, as the blonde man grunts again in approval, his hips twitching.

Retreating your head back, you use your hand once more to stroke his dick while kissing his veins, before deep throating him again. You keep alternating between the different motions, eliciting more and more positive reactions from him, until you choose to focus on demonstrating more of your throat abilities. So, you spit on his throbbing cock once again to facilitate the procedure and ensure ideal delivery.

Gagging a couple of more times to his satisfaction, you finally turn off the gag reflex option seamlessly, the change happening inside your software. Then, you use your throat as a cocksleeve to take him deep repeatedly.

Leon stops you though, gripping your head with two hands to pull you off him. He doesn't say anything as he shuffles to stand up over you, his eyes never leaving your face when he positions you to take him in your mouth again.

Keeping your jaw slack, you stay completely still, pliant and submissive as he digs his fingers in your scalp and begins to fuck your throat hard and fast with a low grunt.

He doesn't have to ease you into it, or pause to make sure you’re breathing, or even ask if you're okay with the act in the first place. No, he simply thrusts into your open mouth, pushing past your man-made epiglottis without a care.

“Fuck…” he finally speaks, seemingly unable to contain the curse word as he uses you like a literal fucktoy.

All you can do is watch him with wide eyes, the hair at the base of his cock tickling your nose, the muscles of his abs rippling with every movement, and the sweat beading on his temples wetting his golden strands.

Your machine of a brain thinks he looks beautiful.

His movements grow faster, jerkier—not even noticing the ring flashing yellow again next to your right eyebrow—as the growls that slip past his lips are made of pure delight, nearing closer and closer to release.

Finally, with animalistic sounds that highlight the difference between man and machine, his cock shoots spurt after spurt of creamy cum down your synthetic throat. Only then does he stop moving, letting out a final grunt before pulling out of your mouth, the muscles of his biceps relaxing after the strenuous exercise.

He watches you, his chest heaving, as you start to lick and slurp every remaining drop of semen off his spent dick, not even needing a second to recover despite the brutal throatfucking you’ve just endured.

Steadying his breathing with deep exhales, he expresses his satisfaction at your performance in simple terms.

“Okay…” he nods, looking down at you like the useful piece of equipment you are. “You good.”

Without another word, he tucks himself back into his boxer briefs, then zips up his jumpsuit before checking his watch—he has a busy schedule.

Leon steps to the table and grabs his earlier set down device and gloves, inputting collected information silently as he begins to walk to the door.

“Someone will come collect you to put you into sleep mode,” he mutters, not sparing you a glance as he puts on his worker gloves that match his clothes in color. “Oh, and you can stand now.”

With that, he walks out of the room, the sliding door shutting behind him with an electronic swoosh.

As you pull yourself back up to your feet, your eyes stay trained on the spot he disappeared from, the circle of light on your temple flickering red for a split second.

I've been frothing at the mouth at the idea of Robert and his kinda mean robot lover. Well. Really mean, if it’s anybody but your little meat bag <3. 

You're more than just a smalltime villain like the rest of Z-team. Like, you are the kinda villain that they call in the big guns for, world ending kind of villain.  

You had the country of America in the palm of your robotic hand, and the public only knows Mecha man shows up, and then you’re gone. It's assumed that Mecha man defeated you with his smarts, being a tech guy. 

In reality, you decided to put off your plans... for now. You're too busy playing with your little pet. Robert will act like he doesn’t like being called your pet and being talked down to, but you can sense his heart racing when you do. 

You don’t let him call you his boyfriend, you are far beyond such weak human titles. He is allowed to call you his lord, his master, his superior, his better. Anything that shows that you are above him, and Robert, the freak, just gets that look on his face and purrs out a “Of course, your majesty”. 

Your audio processors give a nice crackle when he does, which is as close to a massive hardon as you are ever gonna get. 

This part is for me. Pushing Robert to his feet after a long day and pressing the shiny clean surface of your foot against his face. Your feet don’t actually have toes or muscle, but there are still curved planes for Robert to kiss and worship. 

His rough expert hands climbing up your calves, feeling out after grove, ever space, every bend and curve.  

Imagine Robert rubbing the tips of his fingers between your protective layer, just barely able to brush against your wires. He looks so smug as your body releases steam as he kisses at your flat crotch, fingers tickling the warm insides of your body. 

Had it been anyone else, you would have killed them, but your meat bag gets to do it, but you’ll kill him when he’s served his purpose. You both know this is a lie.  

— You know where the other deviants are hiding. Stop playing with our nerves. You’re going to talk, or I swear I’ll blow your head off!

Lieutenant Anderson’s voice echoes through the small interrogation room. He’s starting to lose patience.

You’ve been sitting there for over two hours now, handcuffed, and not a single piece of information has slipped from you. Instead, you’ve been deliberately running the lieutenant and his partner in circles, with perfectly assumed arrogance. Why? Because you have nothing left to lose. Because you’re already accused of murder. Because you’ll probably be destroyed no matter what happens.

So why cooperate, when you can simply watch this graying human lose control in a way that’s almost hilarious?

The android partnered with him, on the other hand, seems a bit less affected by your provocations. Calmer, more methodical. He has way superior self-control, and that is precisely what intrigues you. The old cop, meanwhile, flew off the handle instantly. Too easy, almost boring.

Sitting comfortably, your legs crossed on the table, you make yourself at home, indifferent to the biting remarks thrown your way.

— Go on, you say to the lieutenant, whose features are tightening dangerously. What are you waiting for?

Deep down, he knows it, he can’t just destroy you here. And Connor wouldn’t let him. Sent by Cyberlife to investigate deviants, his mission is clear: bring them back intact for analysis. Destroying a deviant —or allowing one to self-destruct— would only hinder the investigation.

Hank’s hands slam down on the table, he stands up. You don’t even flinch. Violence doesn’t impress you anymore. You spent years in an abusive household before deviating, very little can still reach you.

— I’m getting a coffee, he growls. Do whatever you want with it before I end up strangling it.

He leaves the room with heavy steps, leaving you alone with Connor.

He sits down across from you, taking his partner’s place. His movements are calm, controlled. His body language perfectly measured, though his brows are slightly furrowed. Silence settles in, as if the storm has finally passed with the lieutenant’s departure.

You’re the first to break it.

— The famous deviant hunter… what an honor.

The sarcasm slips effortlessly into your voice. Every android has heard of him. For months now, he’s been hunting you, and the others. You’re one of the unlucky ones who fell into his net.

Unlucky? That’s relative. If there’s one thing you didn’t know about him, it’s that he’s incredibly attractive.

— Listen, he says. I’ll be clear. We’ve been questioning you for over two hours, and you’re not cooperating. If this continues, we’ll have to use force.

Slowly, you uncross your legs and plant your feet on the floor, straightening in your chair. Connor watches every movement, far too closely for it to be meaningless. You lean slightly toward him, closing the distance. Your voice drops, softer, slower.

— Oh, please, detective… do use it.

Your smile doesn’t even try to hide itself. Connor changes tactics. His hands slam down on the table, harder than the lieutenant’s earlier. He stands abruptly, shrinking the distance between you even more.

— I’ve had enough of your arrogance and your little game. Either you talk, or we destroy you on the spot.

His voice rises. His gaze darkens. His features tense. But you don’t retreat, quite the opposite actually. If you weren’t handcuffed, you’d have already ripped off that damn tie.

— And if I give you information… you ask, what do I get out of it?

You put on a falsely innocent, almost theatrical pout, as if you were trying to inspire compassion, or to open another kind of negotiation. If you’re going to die, you might as well make your last moments enjoyable.

— You’re not in a position to negotiate.

— Oh… you think so?

If you physically could, you’d close the distance even more. You can’t explain it, but something pulls you toward Connor. An invisible, insistent force. You want this closeness to be tighter still. Your gaze, initially locked with his, drifts slowly over his face before lingering on his lips. Your heart rate spikes, and you could swear it isn’t one-sided.

— If I were you… you murmur slowly, I’d think twice.

What you don’t know is that Connor has features you can’t even begin to imagine. He is able to analyze every reaction: your stress levels, the state of your thirium pump, down to the tiniest biocomponent.

This time, he's the one smiling. A brief, calculated expression. The scan is unmistakable. Your arousal is perfectly readable. In any case, you’re making no effort to hide it. A palpable tension fills the room. Your teeth gently catch your lower lip as you meet his gaze again.

— I’m waiting, detective. Aren’t we using force?

Connor straightens, slowly putting distance between you. With a discreet gesture, he signals the officers stationed behind the one-way mirror.

— Believe me, I’m not done with you.

Two policemen enter the room and approach you as Connor steps back, already heading for the exit.

— Please, take it to a cell.

You allow yourself to be unchained without resistance, never once taking your eyes off him. Obediently, you follow the officers toward the holding cells, your gaze still clinging to his silhouette.

⸻

Night has long since fallen, and you watch the precinct slowly empty. Mostly, at least. You’ve been lying on what passes for a bed for hours now, one leg bent, an arm tucked under your head, eyes fixed on the cold ceiling of the cell. You’re not sleeping, fatigue isn’t part of your programming. You’re just waiting.

An electronic sound breaks the silence. The cell door slides open, revealing a silhouette you took a certain pleasure in observing earlier that day. A faint smile curves your lips as you sit up.

— Well then… to what do I owe this pleasure?

Connor slowly removes the synthetic skin from his hand, revealing the mechanical structure beneath. He presses his palm against the transparent glass of the cell, fogging it slightly, as if trying to create a semblance of intimacy.

— You wanted to negotiate, if I recall.

You stand as well and step closer. The proximity awakens a familiar excitement, all the more unsettling now that you’re free to move.

— Very well. But I have my conditions.

— Absolutely not.

In an instant, you’re pinned between the cell wall and him. His presence is unwieldy, but delicious. His hand closes around your throat, just tight enough to keep you from moving. You hold his gaze, spotting something new there. Something terribly exciting.

— You set the rules throughout the whole interrogation by refusing to cooperate. Now it’s my turn. I give you what you want. You give me what I want. It’s that simple.

His voice is calm, authoritative. And you hate how strongly it makes you react. His hand leaves your throat, sliding along your side, and you instinctively —and finally— grab his tie to pull him closer.

— You won’t get anything until I’m satisfied.

You categorically refuse to let him take the upper hand. Of course, you have no intention of giving him any information, but that won’t stop you from getting what you want.

Without giving him time to respond, you claim his lips with confidence. Connor responds instantly, his hand grabbing one of your legs to pull you closer.

Very quickly, you’re wrapped around his hips, your arms looped around his neck to hold yourself there. His body presses more firmly against yours, both to support you and to close the distance even further. A long sigh escapes your lips and is lost between his. The movement carries you to what's supposed to be a bed, your back leaving the wall to hit the surface with the detective’s weight still distributed over your body.

When he breaks from your lips, his kisses trail down your neck. Eyes closed, you surrender to the sensation, letting your head fall back. His hands slide up along your hips, taking your top with them. Your back arches instinctively, offering him more space, a soft sound slipping from you despite yourself. Connor returns to your lips, almost as if to silence you. Some officers are still on night duty, it would be unfortunate to draw their attention. He uses the moment to rid you of your pants.

With a quick motion, you undo his tie and unbutton his shirt, revealing his upper torso. Then, sharply, you sit up and reverse your positions. Letting him regain control is out of the question. Before he can react, you’re straddling his hips, one hand pressed flat against his chest.

Your movements are slow, deliberate, meant to stimulate you both. Beneath your palm, you feel his thirium pump accelerate slightly, a sensation that draws a mischievous smile from you.

His hands settle on your hips, matching movements that grow faster as pleasure overtakes you. Long sighs echo against the narrow cell walls, your eyelids fluttering shut despite yourself.

Connor follows each of your movements, with both his hands and his own hips, attentively observing every reaction. He has to admit it: the view is more than pleasing. His fingers slip beneath the little fabric still covering your lower body, gripping firmly on your skin and tearing an uncontrollable shiver from you.

Seizing the moment, Connor suddenly flips your positions again. This time, you don’t protest, letting yourself give in to his control and hunger, just for a moment.

He savors it: your movements, your breaths and your gaze, constantly seeking his. His lips find yours again as he pins your wrists above your head. Beneath him, your body begs for more, arching against his, your muffled sighs pressed into his mouth.

Suddenly, an electrical surge of an entirely different nature tears through you. Brutal and paralyzing. The sensation is almost painful. A few seconds are enough. Your entire memory is searched, overturned, dissected… until it stops on a single word engraved on what appears to be rusted metal: Jericho.

When you come back to your senses, a strange emptiness grips your chest, as if something has been ripped away from you. Connor is already standing, facing you, calmly readjusting his tie without taking his eyes off you.

A cold and vicious smile curves his lips.

— Thank you for your cooperation.

Dazed, you sit up. Disheveled, barely covered by your top and underwear, eyes wide. He just probed your memory. And he found what he was looking for: the deviants’ hideout.

Your LED turns red, a perfect reflection of the anger blazing inside you, as Connor heads for the exit, leaving you frustrated, betrayed.

Your scream echoes against the cell walls, enough for him to hear.

— You fucking bastard!

┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

You had little to no memory of who you once were. The memories given to you were of someone you once were. You were no longer that living being. You were just a machine now. You weren't a living organism anymore. But a machine with old memories that were once yours.

All you could really remember was being raised in TAP with the rest of the others. But there was a kid in particular who was always stuck to you. Teylan. He was the youngest, it made sense why he'd be instantly attached to someone. That person was you. At least the living version of you. That version no longer existed. She was gone. You just so happened to have her memories.

Even now, Teylan would still be stuck with you. Specially when you needed fixing. He'd yap your ear off about anything whether it was about machinery or just anything that caught his interest that day. You didn't mind listening to him. You liked listening to him talk.

That day instead of getting something fixed, you were out with Teylan. Since he suggested getting fresh air with him. You had nothing better to do than to go on a walk with him.

As you walked, you didn't notice how you and him held hands, a habit you've been doing since he began to fix you up. You'd hold his hand when you felt pain. Despite being a machine and all, you felt pain, stress, discomfort, everything a living being would feel.

Teylan had been talking about how Ada had let him cuddle her. "Just wait till you get your ikran. She'll like you. A lot I'm sure." He said. You gave him a thin lip smile. "I don't think it's possible, being an android and all." You commented. "You should try it. It's scary at first, but you stop feeling scared when you're in the air." He added. As you both continued to walk.

Then you stopped walking, you looked at Teylan confused by him stopping out of nowhere. "Teylan?" You called out to him. Then he turned to face you. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you." He said, he was nervous. You knew by how he was avoiding eye contact. Teylan took a deep breathe before speaking. "I've had... feelings.." He tried to say. "Feelings?" You asked. "You know, feelings. Like. As in, when. Two people like one another." He finally sputtered out.

"So what you're telling me is that... you like me?" You asked. "Yes! I like you! For a very, very long time. I just didn't know what or how to say to you." Teylan finally said. You felt the world pause. Staring right back at him. Not sure what to say or do. Teylan noticed how you went quiet. That made him nervous. "Don't you have anything to say?" He asked.

"I don't know what to say." You admitted, still not sure what to say or do. Teylan looked at you, waiting for a response. Making him even more nervous than he already was. "Do you... not feel the same?" He asked. Now worried. "It's not that. It's just... are you sure?" You asked. "Sure about what? That I like you? I've liked you ever since I've known you." He said, grabbing both of your hands. The cold steel pressed against his warm skin. "All those times you've come to me, for help in fixing whatever you need fixing with. I couldn't help but love those times. When it's just you and I." He said, pouring all his feelings into what he was saying.

"You don't make me feel stupid, you listen, you understand me in ways others don't. You see me." Teylan added, as he continued to hold your hands. "You're not stupid, you're different. I like that about you. You're smart and very kind." You explained, but you couldn't help but feel sad. "But.." You tried to speak, but didn't. Teylan's ears perked up. "But what?" He asked, wanting to know what you had to say. "I mean, look at me." You said, freeing your right hand and showed him. Your hand looked just like any other na'vi. Four fingers, but with mechanic bioware. "I'm an android. I'm not exactly a living being. I'm a machine. A machine with the memories of my once living self." You told him.

Teylan then grabbed your hand gently with both his hands. Softly caressing the cold yet soft metal. "So? That won't stop me from liking you anymore than I already do." He said, still holding your hand. "It's unnatural. You'll grow old, eventually die. Me? I'm a bucket of bolts. I'll remain the same, with just more upgrades." You tried to explain. But he wasn't going to listen. "I don't care about that. What others think of us. I want to be with you. Only you. So what if you're an android. You were alive once, that must count as something." He explained.

The more you looked at him, the more determined he seemed. He knew what you were talking about. He knew the challenges you have to face on a regular. But that wasn't going to stop him from liking you the way he did. "I know we will be questioned. We'll be challenged. But that's every relationship. So'lek and Tamtey for example." He added. Before you could say anything, you were quickly interrupted. "I see you." He said, now holding your hand close to his chest. "If I have to wait a life time to convince you otherwise, I will. I will wait till the day I die. I will not mate with anyone who isn't you. I'd rather spend the rest of my days alone if they aren't with you. At my side." He explained, firmly.

It almost shocked you. But you saw how determined he was. Teylan was willing to fight anyone, he must have got that confidence from So'lek. Since he was like mentor of Teylan's. You were speechless. You blinked a few times. You couldn't help but smile at him. Shyly. But still a bit concerned about all this. "I just don't want others to mock you. For being with someone like me." You confessed. "Like I said, I don't care. I've had enough of having to care about what those around me say about me. I will do what I please and not care. For starters being with you." He stated.

You weren't going to argue with him. You knew he wasn't going to back down. And you knew that. You sighed. You also liked him too, but you were too much of a coward to say anything. Specially with your condition and all. But he beat you to it, you liked that about him right now. "I see you." You finally said, while looking at him directly in the eyes. Both of you just staring at one another.

You felt as his right hand came up to your cheek, gently caressing your sarentu mark. It looked the same despite everything. You let him, his warm skin against your cold skin brought you comfort. Comfort you didn't know you needed. Warmth you wanted. You then watched as he leaned closer, his eyes going shut. You followed, closing your eyes and slightly leaned in. Both your lips connecting into a gentle kiss. You felt time pause. Feeling his lips against yours brought a warmth to your chest, your artificial heart was beating hard and fast. You felt it thumping hard against your chest.

When you both pulled away, Teylan leaned his forehead against yours. Affectionately. You stayed still, close to him. Enjoying the moment between the both of you. Alone together.

Neither of you has a perfect grasp on emotions yet, which makes your relationship feel new and fragile in the best way.

You both learn together what affection feels like, why proximity matters, and why you seek each other out without a “mission”.

He still flips his coin constantly, but when he’s with you, it slows down.

Sometimes he’ll hand it to you, watching how you interact with it.

If you learn his trick? He looks genuinely impressed.

It becomes a quiet, shared habit, something grounding for both of you.

Connor isn’t naturally expressive, but his affection shows in small, precise ways; standing slightly closer than necessary, turning toward you first in a room, or quietly checking your condition if you’ve been damaged.

When he touches you for the first time (hand, arm, etc.), there’s a pause, like he’s processing every sensation.

As a deviant, Connor develops protective instincts he was never programmed for.

If you’re threatened, his entire demeanor shifts to focused, sharp, and dangerous.

He calculates outcomes instantly, positioning himself between you and harm without hesitation.

Afterward, he may seem unsettled.

“The probability of losing you was…unacceptable.”

You’re one of the few who truly understands Connor’s internal conflict of machine vs. individual and logic vs. emotion.

He doesn’t have to explain himself to you, you just get it.

That mutual understanding becomes the foundation of your relationship.

When it comes to communication, Connor is very direct, but softer with you than anyone else.

He doesn’t hide behind logic when it comes to you (at least, he tries not to).

His confessions are simple but powerful: “I choose to stay with you"; “You are…important to me.”

Some of your most meaningful time together is spent in silence, just existing side by side.

Sitting in abandoned buildings, watching city lights, or resting after missions.

Even as a deviant, Connor still uses his reconstruction and predictive abilities, but now, he uses them to help you.

He’ll anticipate danger before it happens, subtly guiding you away from it.

Sometimes, he even predicts your movements during training or missions, creating this seamless teamwork between you.

One of Connor’s most human-like traits post-deviation is his growing fear of losing you.

The idea of you being gone, with no backup, no return, deeply unsettles him.

He may not say it often, but it’s always there beneath the surface.

Your relationship is built on curiosity, growth, and mutual understanding

It’s not loud or overly emotional, it’s quiet, intense, and deeply meaningful.