#private AI assistant

[secret-ai]

Hey there! I'm Secret AI, your private AI assistant that runs 100% offline on your phone. No servers, no tracking, no data uploading — ever. Try it: https://secretai.io

[societyfolklore]

Open Up Baby

Title: Open Up Baby Pairing: Tony Stark  x Female Reader

Summary: Tony Stark straps you into a StarkTech-compatible bench for a private demonstration of his newest toys- complete with biometric feedback,

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, SMUT… BDSM/Restraints/Bondage, custom tech ball gag, toys (Egg vibe, anal beads, dildo)  Overstimulation, Toy fucking/Machine-assisted thrusting, Filthy talk (Tony can't shut up), AI assists with data tracking, clinical observation, forced openness, Sensory overload

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for April Kinky Bingo… Well this one turned into a whole thing.. Square: B2- Open Up Baby  Card Number: KB003

You were already strapped to the bench- back arched, thighs spread wide in glossy chrome stirrups, wrists bound snug in Stark-grade cuffs that didn’t budge an inch. The synthetic leather beneath you was cool against your skin, but your body was already starting to heat with anticipation. The bench itself shifted slightly with every movement, like it was reading your tension, calibrating every twitch of your muscles into data Tony could access later.

You could hear the soft hum of the room’s ambient systems, the low mechanical whirrs, the faint electric pulse of tech running in standby, and underneath it all, Tony’s voice. He hummed absently as he moved around you, flicking through translucent holoscreens that floated in the air, readable only to him. Light glinted off his arc reactor through the thin black shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, veins flexing with every subtle flick of his fingers.

He looked like a scientist. Or a surgeon. No, a goddamn artist.

“You look tense,” he murmured, stepping in close, his fingers grazing your jaw with a feather-light touch. “That won’t do. We need to get a clean read. No clenched teeth, no locked jaws. Just you- open and…relaxed.”

He held up a sleek piece of tech. A mix of leather and metal. To you it looked like a ball gag. That wasn’t just a gag. It was his gag. Something custom. Personal. Laced with Stark Industry Tech.

“Open up, baby. Gotta install the biometric reader. It’s not science without a baseline.”

You hesitated, lips twitching. Just for a second. But he didn’t push. He just waited you out, smirk deepening, one brow arched like he had all the time in the world. That cocky, knowing gaze made you squirm even before anything touched you. Your breath hitched. And then you parted your lips.

“There we go,” he said, tone thick with approval as he slid the gag into place. It clicked against your teeth, snug and firm. A soft vibration flickered across your tongue as it locked in pushing the muscle down.

Friday’s voice chimed in overhead, calm and clinical.

“Gag calibration complete. Biometric sync active. Tracking vocal response, saliva levels, and tongue pressure.”

Tony leaned down, brushing his lips across your cheek in a whisper of a kiss. “Good girl. Now let’s get to work.”

He started with the egg.

Sleek. Silver. Pulsing faintly in his hand like it had a heartbeat of its own. The metal shimmered under the clinical lights, smooth and polished, shaped with the kind of precision that only Stark could deliver. He turned it over once, twice, like he was admiring a prized gadget- one that he was particularly proud of.

He showed it to you like a doctor unveiling a revolutionary new tool- calm, confident, deeply amused. Except this wasn’t a sterile exam room, and the look in his eyes wasn’t professional. His smirk told you he already knew what kind of mess this thing would reduce you to.

"This is your warm-up," he said, voice low and playful. "Phase One. Internal warming protocol. Testing receptivity. Calibration through heat and pulse response."

You whimpered into the gag. Of course you were excited- he’d been teasing you with this little 'demonstration' all week. Whispering promises in your ear, tapping out reminders on your thigh, dropping technical jargon laced with filth that left your core throbbing before he’d even touched you. Now that it was finally happening, your whole body was buzzing with need.

He didn't wait. He moved closer, one gloved hand parting your thighs a little further, the other settling between them. The bench adjusted beneath you, lifting your hips another inch to meet his touch perfectly. His fingers dipped between your folds- testing your wetness, teasing you just enough to make your body jerk in its bonds.

"Already responsive," he muttered, half to himself, half to Friday. "She’s going to be a dream to log."

He slid the egg in with two fingers, slow and deliberate. The cool metal kissed your entrance, making you flinch slightly- it was colder than you expected, stark contrast against your heated skin. Your walls instinctively tried to resist, clenching down, but his fingers were patient, coaxing you open, parting you around the sleek, unyielding toy.

The egg slid upward, heavy and smooth. As it moved deeper, your body yielded to it, the slow stretch making your breath catch. Its contours were designed to press into every sensitive spot, and you could feel your muscles fluttering around it, trying to accommodate the sudden fullness. As he pushed it deeper, you could feel every inch of it being swallowed by your body, your slick muscles tightening, fluttering around the intrusion.

He pushed the egg up high inside you, then paused, his finger still inside you too. "Squeeze for me," he ordered. You did, instinctively, your walls closing down as you used your pelvic floor, and Tony gave the platic string attached a soft tug.

The stretch, the resistance- it was delicious. The egg stayed locked in place. You couldn’t push it out if you tried. He smiled, clearly pleased.

"Perfect. Secure fit," he murmured. "Wouldn’t want it popping out mid-test."

It settled deep inside you, a sinful throb blooming in your core. Then it pulsed- just once, a quick flutter that made you jolt.

"There we go," he breathed, watching the screen light up with new data. "Didn’t even turn it on yet and she’s already going. Fuck, I love this job."

You were barely processing the first toy when he reached for the second.

Beads. Tapered, growing in size, each one gleamed under the soft blue lighting like tiny pieces of futuristic art. You squirmed, thighs pressing together, but it was no use- Stark had seen your reaction.

Tony laughed- low and delighted.

"Didn’t know we were going there, huh?" He nudged your knees apart again, voice dipping to a darker octave. "Come on, baby. I want you to open up for me. Let’s see what this one does..."

You shook your head slightly. Whimpered into the gag. Wide eyes watching him as you tried to protest around the ball gag in your mouth. 

Tony turned to the tray beside him, selecting a small, frost-blue tube of gel. "Wouldn't be very considerate to skip prep," he muttered, more to himself than to you. He uncapped the tube and squeezed a slow, deliberate line of the slick, glistening substance along the length of the beads. The gel shimmered faintly under the light, warming as it reacted with the ambient temperature.

He coated each bead carefully, fingers moving with methodical ease, making sure the entire string was evenly slicked. "Lubricated. Body-safe. Custom formula," he said with a wink. "Slippery enough to slide in smooth- sticky enough to stay in place until I say otherwise."

Then he held the beads up for you to see, the string dangling between his fingers. You tensed instinctively.

"Oh no. You’re freezing up. Can’t test properly if you don’t behave. Legs. Open."

You didn’t.

Tony tsked, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment. Then he grabbed your chin, firm and steady, tilting your head so your eyes locked with his.

"Don't think so much. That’s not what good test subjects do."

Click.

The bench tilted beneath you without warning. Your hips rolled upward, knees falling further apart as the restraints auto-adjusted. You were fully exposed now- helpless. Wide open.

"You know I can override those restraints, right? I built them. Now be a good girl and show me everything."

He dipped his finger back into the gel and brought it to your ass, pressing a cool dollop directly to your tight, puckered entrance. The sudden chill made you flinch, but it was followed by the warm glide of his fingertip as he gently teased the gel in slow circles.

"You tense here, too," he said, amused. "Don't worry. This formula warms up just like you do."

He rubbed it in carefully, working the gel into your rim with delicate, coaxing pressure. The sensation tingled- both from the temperature shift and the way his finger circled and pressed until your body finally began to relent.

Then he lowered the beads between your cheeks and began to press them in- one at a time. The first slid in easily, the gel working its magic, cool and slick. The second made your breath stutter. The third had your whole body tensing as your hole stretched just enough to accommodate the new pressure.

Each one pulled a different, desperate noise from you- somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, caught in the back of your throat and forced through the gag in broken fragments.

By the time the third bead settled inside you, you felt full. Stretched in ways that left you panting, your back arching hard off the bench. Everything was working together- the deep pressure of the egg nestled high in your core, the hum beginning to buzz through your clit like a phantom, and now the slow, firm intrusion of the beads pressing against nerves that had you seeing stars. You struggled to catch your breath, the gag forcing each inhale to be short and choppy. Air hissed through your nose while your mouth flooded with saliva, spit slipping from the corners of your lips in thick strands that slid down your neck and onto your chest. The overwhelming heat of arousal and frustration tangled in your gut, building like steam with nowhere to escape. The restraint of it made the fire inside you burn hotter.

Your muscles clenched involuntarily, your hips rocking against the air, chasing friction that didn’t come. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t beg. Just drool, tremble, and take everything he gave you.

"Mmm. That moan? That was bead three. She likes that one, Friday."

"Confirmed," the AI replied. "Pelvic floor tension rising. Heart rate increasing."

"Good. Means it’s working."

The egg began to heat. The beads hummed in sync, and you felt everything shift- internally and externally- as pleasure bled into pressure, and pressure into overload. You were trembling now, thighs twitching again, trying to close- but the bench held you wide, utterly exposed.

"Heart rate’s spiking..." Tony’s voice was pure, filthy glee. "Oh, she’s gonna break soon. Look at her squirm."

You rutted against the air, clit untouched and screaming for attention. Your walls fluttered around the egg, your ass clenching down against the beads as the different pulses overlapped and collided. It was all too much and somehow not enough. You needed more and needed it to stop, all at once.

You tried to breathe, but the gag made it impossible to take anything but shallow, panting gasps. Each exhale was laced with a moan. Drool spilled freely down your chin, dripping warm across your face and neck. You were flushed, messy, wrecked- and he hadn’t even touched your clit.

Your back arched violently off the bench, cords of heat coiling through your belly and thighs. It felt like your body was unraveling, muscles tight and desperate, nerve endings screaming with pleasure.

Tony leaned in again, voice dark and syrup-smooth. "We’ve got her plugged, egged, and ready to combust. Think she can handle the next phase?"

Friday answered, "Orgasm build-up at 87%."

"Perfect." He tapped a command into the air. "Now let’s push her."

The egg pulsed deeper. The beads vibrated sharper. You cried out- moaning, writhing, the gag muffling it into raw, incoherent noise. You couldn’t form words. Couldn’t beg. Just sob through the pressure building to a breaking point.

"Baby, this is science. Filthy, beautiful science."

It hit you like a wave- white-hot and all-consuming. Your legs shook violently in the stirrups, muscles spasming as your body locked around the egg and beads pulsing inside you. Every nerve ending fired in chaotic pleasure, overwhelming your senses. You tried to scream, to sob, but the gag reduced it to a shattered, strangled cry that vibrated through the tech, each desperate noise dutifully logged.

Drool spilled in long, wet strands down your chin as your back bowed hard off the bench, your whole body trembling under the assault of pleasure. Your cunt clenched tight around the egg, milking it involuntarily, while your ass throbbed with each hum of the vibrating beads. Everything inside you was pulsing, moving, grinding you down into submission.

Tony watched, transfixed, his gaze locked on your ruined, shaking form. “There she goes - God, I should patent that moan.”

Your eyes rolled back. You could barely breathe. You could only tremble and leak and convulse as the orgasm tore through you. The bench beneath you vibrated subtly with your body’s response.

Friday: "Orgasm confirmed."

Tony waited until you were trembling, your breathing uneven, your thighs still twitching with aftershocks that rippled through your overstimulated body. Sweat slicked your skin in a thin, glistening sheen, catching the light as your chest heaved with broken gasps around the gag. Your limbs strained weakly against the restraints.

Then- slowly, methodically- he reached between your cheeks and took hold of the first bead. He didn’t rush. He eased it out one at a time, each slick orb dragging along your inner walls with a sticky, stretching glide. You shuddered at the sensation- the unbearable emptiness that bloomed in the wake of each removal. Your ass clenched reflexively around the loss, trying to hold onto what had filled you so completely. But he kept going.

The final bead popped free with a slick, obscene sound. Your hips jolted involuntarily, your back arching once more as your body spasmed again, clinging to the ghost of sensation.

Friday's voice crackled overhead. "Anal pressure reduced. Sphincter still contracting. She’s experiencing post-orgasmic muscle spasms."

Then came the egg.

He curled his fingers inside you, tugging the retrieval loop with a firm, practiced motion. The egg slipped free, wet and shiny,  your cunt fluttering uselessly around the sudden void. The stretch, the drag, the warmth- it all left you aching. You cried into the gag, overwhelmed by the emptiness and the continued tremors in your muscles. Your thighs kicked slightly, your knees drawing in as far as the restraints would allow.

"Vaginal walls contracting. Core temperature still elevated. She's not done trembling yet," Friday observed, calm as ever.

Tony held both toys in one hand now- wet, warm, shining. He looked down at you with naked satisfaction.

"That’s some damn good tech," he said. "But we’re not done."

From the tray, he lifted his final piece.

A dildo- sleek, deep grey, Stark-stamped at the base. Modeled after him, and you knew it. Maybe a little bigger. Slightly wider at the base, with delicate ridges along the underside that hinted at something extra. Your breath caught just looking at it.

“This one’s special, baby. Built it from memory- well, from yours,” Tony said, rolling it in his hand. “Temperature regulated, pressure-sensitive, and the best part? The internal sensors sync to your contractions. It responds to you. The more you clench, the deeper it drives. A perfect loop.”

You whimpered around the gag, heart fluttering.

He moved between your spread legs and lined it up against your soaked, fluttering entrance. You were already sensitive- still trembling from the last orgasm- and when the wide tip pressed in, you nearly cried. It stretched you slowly, steadily, a little more than you were used to. Your slick walls resisted at first, clenching down instinctively, but Tony was patient, guiding it with precise control.

“There you go,” he coaxed, voice smooth but sharp-edged with amusement. “That’s it. Take all of it. Come on, baby- I know you can..”

His tone dipped into a purr. “There you go. Taking it like you need it. Bet you love being filled up with Stark-grade tech, huh?”

Your back bowed off the bench as he pushed it in, inch by inch, your pussy yielding to every contour, forced to accommodate the full shape of it. The fullness was delious, your body stretched taut around it. Your eyes rolled back as the final ridge slipped inside, the toy settling deep.

“There,” he said, watching your reactions with fascination. “Fills you out just right. And now... we see what she can really do.”

The base clicked into a pulse pattern, and the toy began to move inside you- slow at first, deliberate, like it was learning your shape. You could feel every textured ridge of the shaft as it rubbed against your inner walls, dragging across oversensitive flesh, sparking little detonations of pleasure with every pass.

Then it pulsed- long and low, a rhythmic thrum that radiated from base to tip, sending heat spiraling through your belly. With every thrust, the toy seemed to stretch you deeper, nudging a spot that made your toes curl and your thighs twitch against the restraints. Your pussy clenched around it reflexively, triggering the internal sensors Tony had mentioned. And just like that, the toy responded- pressing harder, thrusting deeper, faster.

It wasn’t just fucking you- it was reading you, syncing to the wild flutter of your muscles, pulsing in tandem with your arousal.

“Look at her,” Tony murmured, grinning as he watched the toy disappear again and again between your legs. “Every little squeeze makes it work harder. You’re doing this to yourself, baby. And I haven’t even touched your clit yet.”

You’d been so consumed by the thrusting inside you, by the stretch and pulse of the toy, that you hadn’t even noticed Tony move. But suddenly, he was there- looming over you, and the egg was pressed directly to your clit.

The sensation was immediate and brutal.

Your entire body jolted. The contact felt almost painful, your nerves raw and exposed, the stimulation electric. You tried to buck away, hips arching, thighs trembling, but you had nowhere to go.

Tony caught you effortlessly. One hand shoved the egg against your swollen clit, refusing to relent, while the other pressed down on your thigh to keep your knees from closing.

“Uh uh. None of that,” he said smoothly. “You don’t get to hide from this, baby. You earned it.”

You sobbed into the gag, thrashing your hips side to side, but the bench and Tony’s hands made escape impossible. Every attempt to squirm just sent the dildo thrusting deeper inside you, and the egg grinding cruelly over your clit.

“You’re not gonna break,” he whispered, teasing. “You’re gonna burn for me.”

"Don’t you dare run from it. look at me."

He was holding you still- one hand clamped over your thigh to keep your legs spread, the other pressing the egg mercilessly to your clit. You were trembling in his grasp, utterly helpless against the merciless pairing of his tech and his control.

"You’re gonna come again for me, sweetheart. Real data’s in the repeat response," he said, eyes locked on yours, voice both commanding and hungry.

The dildo thrust deep, the ridges grinding against your most sensitive spots as your walls clamped down. The egg buzzed brutally against your swollen clit, so overstimulated you couldn’t tell whether you were trying to run from it or chase it. Every jolt of pleasure lit your nerves like lightning- white-hot and impossible to hold back.

Your body jerked, hips spasming, thighs trembling violently as the sensations overloaded you. Your entire body was working against you- every clench, every twitch, every gasp just triggered the toy to go deeper, harder, faster. You weren’t riding it anymore- it was riding you, and Tony just watched with that devilish smirk, keeping you wide open.

“That's it. Shake for me. Scream into that gag. Show me what science can do.”

The climax tore through you without mercy- harder, deeper, a violent unraveling of every nerve as your body convulsed around the relentless rhythm of the tech inside you. You didn’t just come; you shattered, splintering open in a release so intense it blurred your vision, your mind, your ability to distinguish pleasure from pain. Your vision shattered into sparks, your scream muffled into a raw, hoarse noise behind the gag. Your body thrashed in the restraints, muscles locking as the orgasm ripped through you, longer and sharper than the last.

Friday: "Second orgasm confirmed. Neural spike significant. Subject approaching physical limit."

He slowed the toy, letting it ease to a stop deep inside you before withdrawing it carefully, letting you feel every last ridge dragging along your raw, overstimulated walls. Then, with a gentleness that almost contrasted the torment he’d just put you through, he removed the egg from your clit. The instant the contact broke, your whole body sagged in the restraints with relief and exhaustion. You were shaking, barely breathing- every inch of you buzzing, nerves fried and twitching from the overload.

You could taste salt on your lips- your own tears and spit, your jaw aching from clenching around the gag. You were drenched, body glistening with sweat, your skin flushed and hypersensitive to the air.

He removed the gag last. Your jaw fell slack with a wet, trembling gasp, strands of spit clinging to the corners of your mouth. You blinked up at him, vision hazy, lips wet and parted.

Tony gazed down at you, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction, his mouth tugging into a crooked grin that said told you so. He looked like a man admiring his finest creation- smug, yes, but also thoroughly entertained by the glorious, twitching mess sprawled out beneath him.

“You did good, baby. Fucking beautiful. But next time?”

He leaned close, brushing a kiss to your temple- slow, deliberate, his breath warm against your damp skin.

“Think I’ll need to design something that gets you to squirt. Can’t let a variable like that go untested. Wouldn’t be very Stark of me to stop now, would it?”

He turned with a little flourish, tapping the screen with a flick of his fingers, not bothering to look back.

“Friday, save this session. Label it: Successful. Prepare files for Phase Two.”

[intelvueofficial]

The Future of AI: Predictions and Trends

Introduction

Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been at the forefront of recent technological developments, which have been occurring at an unprecedented rate. Several significant trends that promise to transform how we use technology, conduct business, and even market goods and services are emerging as we go into the future. With an emphasis on the Metaverse, the most important technological trends, and the incorporation of AI in digital marketing, this article will look into the predictions and trends that are influencing the future of AI.

Metaverse Trends: The Convergence of Reality and Digital Worlds

In recent years, there has been a lot of discussion and excitement surrounding the idea of the Metaverse trends, an entirely immersive virtual universe. The Metaverse, which is envisioned as a shared, persistent area where people engage with one other and a computer-generated environment, has the potential to fundamentally alter how we engage in social relationships, entertainment, work, and commerce.

Virtual Reality (VR) and Augmented Reality (AR):

Technology advancements in VR and AR are allowing for more immersive experiences. In the upcoming years, we may anticipate more affordable and realistic VR and AR experiences thanks to technology and software developments.

These technologies are not just used for gaming and amusement; they are also being used for remote business, training, and even education. The possibilities are endless; consider attending a conference in a virtual boardroom or touring historical places with augmented reality overlays.

Blockchain and NFTs:

The Metaverse is made possible by blockchain technology  and Non-Fungible Tokens (NFTs), which enable digital ownership, authenticity, and safe transactions in virtual settings. As more blockchain and NFT applications are researched, this tendency is expected to persist.

The purchasing, selling, and ownership of digital assets is about to undergo a transformation thanks in part to NFTs. NFTs offer a framework for actual digital ownership, establishing the groundwork for a vibrant economy within the Metaverse. This includes virtual real estate and one-of-a-kind works of digital art.

AI-driven Personalization:

The Metaverse will become increasingly personalized thanks in large part to AI algorithms. With personalized content recommendations and dynamically produced surroundings, AI will increase user pleasure and engagement.

Imagine entering a virtual world where everything, from the climate to the architecture, adapts to your preferences. This level of customisation will be made possible by AI, resulting in a completely distinctive experience for each user.

Top Technology Trends: A Glimpse into Tomorrow's Innovations

Beyond the Metaverse, AI is poised to drive several other groundbreaking technology trends that will shape our future.

Quantum Computing:

Quantum computing is expected to completely change processing power as Moore's Law reaches its limits. Quantum computing has the potential to resolve issues that were formerly thought to be intractable due to its capacity to carry out complicated calculations at rates that are currently unfathomable.

The potential of quantum computing are enormous, from transforming drug discovery to streamlining intricate logistical processes. Even though we're still in the early phases, it's exciting to think about the possibility of finding solutions to today's seemingly insoluble issues.

Edge Computing:

Data processing and storage are moved closer to the point of data generation thanks to edge computing. The demand for real-time processing and decreased latency, which are essential for applications like driverless vehicles, IoT devices, and augmented reality, is what is driving this development.

Applications that need the capacity to make split-second decisions now have more options thanks to the ability to process data at the edge. For instance, autonomous vehicles use edge computing to interpret sensory data and make quick driving judgments.

AI-powered Healthcare:

AI will have a significant impact on healthcare, from individualized treatment plans to drug development. Large datasets will be analyzed by machine learning algorithms to produce more precise diagnoses and treatment alternatives.

Patient care is being transformed by AI's capacity to sift through masses of medical data to find patterns and insights. AI is revolutionizing the healthcare industry by doing everything from forecasting disease outbreaks to developing individualized treatment plans.

AI in Digital Marketing: Elevating Customer Experiences

AI is already changing the game in the field of digital marketing, and this trend is only going to continue.

Predictive Analytics and Customer Segmentation:

Predictive analytics powered by AI can anticipate consumer behavior and preferences, allowing businesses to target their marketing campaigns at particular groups.

Businesses may forecast customer requirements and behaviors using historical data and machine learning algorithms, enabling more specialized and successful marketing efforts. As a result, conversion rates increase and marketing resources are used more effectively.

 

Chatbots and Virtual Assistants:

Virtual assistants and chatbots powered by AI are getting increasingly smart, offering prompt responses and tailored interactions. They improve customer interaction and support, which eventually results in improved conversion rates.

Because they can now comprehend context and real language, chatbots are invaluable for delivering prompt support. They are accessible round-the-clock, giving clients prompt responses while freeing up human agents for more difficult jobs.

Visual Recognition and Content Creation:

Images and films can now be recognized and created by AI systems. This creates new opportunities for content development and gives users the option to have their images customized.

Visual recognition enables automated image tagging and categorization, simplifying the organization and search of big image datasets. AI-generated content can also help in the creation of visually appealing marketing materials.

Conclusion

AI is poised to change many parts of our life in the future, including how we interact in virtual environments and the technological advancements that will influence our environment. The possibilities appear endless as the Metaverse picks up steam and technological trends like edge computing and quantum computing continue to develop. AI will keep improving customer experiences in the field of digital marketing, personalizing and engaging interactions. Being on the cutting edge of these technical developments is exhilarating because we get to see a future that only seemed possible in science fiction come to life. With AI at the lead, innovation's potential is limitless, offering a more connected, intelligent, and dynamic future than ever.

[foxybrownsugababe]

𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Ai Michael B. Jordon x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which a woman receives a mysterious crate that changes everything she thought she knew about solitude, control, and connection.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild language, slow burn, emotional vulnerability, light sci-fi themes, let me know if I missed anything! Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!! Go easy one me <3

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I had the idea, and I thought “Why the hell not?” And here we are….

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5,637+

There was no room for weakness in Nadine Nelson’s life.

Not in her closet, where the hems of her Italian suits and Asian silks hung like armor. Not in her penthouse apartment in the heart of Manhattan, with its clean marble surfaces and city skyline views. And definitely not in the courtroom, where a well-timed objection could make or break a multimillion-dollar case.

Nadine was steel, wrapped in silk.

Her alarm rang at 5:45 AM, a single chime before she cut it off and sat up. Not a single grin or anything, just a long cat stretch before rolling over and letting her feet hit the floor. And already, her mind was racing.

Deposition at 10. Client call at 1. Lunch with the DA’s assistant—, no I’m skipping that. Trial prep at 4. Court by Thursday.

She moved like a machine all while thinking. First her perfectly manicured feet slipped into her slippers before she was up and tossing her arms into her deep blue silk robe. Then she was turning on the bathroom light, standing in front of the mirror before the sound of her electric toothbrush humming filled the space. Once she put into the sink, cold water hit her face, a nice cleaned scrub applied to her skin with some expensive soap before multiple serums and creams soothed her epidermis. Then she was down the hall and into the kitchen, her domain of silence.

She barely blinked as she moved around, effortlessly pulling together an authentic espresso. Double shot, four sugars, two creamers. She sipped out of the small cup that she placed on a saucer as she made her way to the living room, clinking on the large television with a simple tap to the panel near the light switch, as well as opening the curtains to the floor to ceiling windows of the space.

It was the news on low volume, something she played in the background as she sat on the couch and began the first part of her work day, which was checking notifications. Stock tickers scrolling. Loads of emails, and real mail. Even a text from her assistant.

Jane: Morning. Confirmed meeting with Sloane. Added an extra hour for court prep. I had to push your massage again. Sorry.

Nadine didn’t even flinch. Self-care was for people with the luxury of losing. She had no such privilege. As she continued to check and sort through her things, she came across a letter, which was rare nowadays in their advanced society. But she didn’t sit to read it for long once she saw it was some sort of survey with a government seal.

C.R.I.S.

(Cognitive Robotics & Intelligence Systems)

Confidential Prototype Program | Not for Public Disclosure

To Ms. Nadine Nelson,

Congratulations.

You are one of only twenty individuals selected to participate in the private beta phase of AURA—the world’s most advanced artificial intelli-

With a sigh, she tossed the paper into the rest of the junk mails she’d gathered, not even giving it a second thought.

By 6:30AM, she was showered and dressed in navy Balmain with matching slacks, gold cufflinks fastened, and her Louboutin heels clicked against the floors like a metronome. Every detail was precise. Her eyeliner was sharp, her decently pixie bob cut was curled and bouncy, not a strand out of place.

That was the version of herself she showed the world.

The version no one saw was the one who stared at herself in any reflection for a moment too long, trying to spot any imperfections and critiquing the ones she had. The one who pressed the ends of her hand to her temple when things became too much, roughly rubbing against her skin to not panic. The one who felt the beginnings of a headache every morning before she even stepped outside.

But there was no time for that.

Today was a big day. So big that she nearly ran over one of her co-workers in the complex’s private parking lot. The woman leaned out of the window, looking at her co-worker, Simon, was entrapped within his phone, coffee in other hand.

“Simon.” She clipped as she exited the car, standing beside the driver’s side with her bag slung over her arm and her eyes narrowed like the barrel of a gun.

Her junior partner, Simon Gellar, flinched, nearly spilling his coffee. He was leaned against the concrete column next to his vehicle, relaxed as if he had no multi-million-dollar contracts waiting for him upstairs.

“Nadine! Goodmorning.” He blurted, straightening up, phone still in hand. His thin wire glasses were crooked from how fast he’d jerked up.

She leveled a gaze at him. “You’re in my line of motion. Next to my parking spot. Were you planning to get hit by my car?” She asked, and though she was being sarcastic, her stoic face didn’t lean into that notion.

Simone scrambled back, laughing awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry. I was—uh—watching something.”

“I gathered.” She pushed past him, heels echoing. Still, curiosity peeked through her otherwise impenetrable wall of ice. She pivoted at the elevator. “What was so important it made you forget spatial awareness?”

Simon followed her with a sheepish grin, lifting his phone to show a paused video. “This new AI prototype. It’s a for a government project. They’re calling it a fully integrated domestic interface. Basically a robot with a personality. They’re doing a limited civilian roll-out.” He explained.

Nadine gave a single, unimpressed glance at the screen. It was paused on a thumbnail image—what looked like a man stepping out of a delivery crate, bare-chested, perfect skin, electric-blue eyes, and a jawline engineered with an questionable precision.

“They sent you a stripper?” She deadpanned.

Simon choked. “We-well, no! Th-this isn’t mine, this is some guy online. A-and he’s, uh, he’s supposed to be adaptable. Learns your habits, routines, even preferences. The AI body is designed to assist with home tasks and companionship. There’s an application online—”

“Companionship?” Nadine asked, one brow arching as they stepped into the elevator.

“Not like that. I mean—maybe like that.” He said, squinting. “But—anyway, apparently they already started selecting people to house the prototypes.” He sipped his coffee, missing the twitch of Nadine’s jaw. “Random civilian testing. They’re sending out offers from low to high-income environments.” He continued.

The elevator dinged. Nadine stepped out before the doors fully opened.

“Mm, sounds like a weird distraction. Who has time for pet projects from a government that doesn’t care about them. Let me know when they build one that can argue in court and bill clients.” She deadpanned before the elevator dinged and she stepped off, stuttering down the hall to her office.

“Will do.” Simon called after her, blushing as he pushed up his glasses and watched as the woman walked away from him.

✦

Nadine’s office sat at the top floor of the firm—an expansive corner with floor-to-ceiling windows, brushed gold fixtures, and enough clean lines to make any minimalist cry from joy. But it wasn’t decoration that mattered, not to her at least. It was power. Clients walked in and knew exactly who was in charge and who was a leader.

She dumped her bag on the chair and was halfway through her espresso number two when the day officially launched.

By 7:15 AM, she was pacing through an emergency strategy meeting regarding an international corporate dispute. She cut through the legalese with surgical precision, offering airtight solutions and eviscerating anyone who hesitated.

By 9:00, she was on a three-way call with the CEO of a pharmaceutical giant and their scandal-scrambling PR team, coaching them through deposition answers while reading through a second case file on her desk.

By 10:00, she was downstairs in one of the firm’s conference rooms, dressed in a power stance that had the opposing counsel checking their notes twice before daring to even speak. She flipped through paper evidence like chapters of a book she’d already read, correcting a junior associate mid-sentence with nothing but a hard stare.

Every moment, every move, every gesture, was precise. Intention was behind it all.

There were no lunch breaks for her, only a small snacks here and there, or of like the food version of a power nap. And even then, she canceled today’s one-on-one with the DA’s assistant five minutes before she was supposed to show. Nadine opted to pace the rooftop patio instead, shoes clicking against stone as she answered emails, reviewed evidence, and toggled between two back-to-back client emergencies.

Her assistant, Jane, appeared like a ghost, silent as ever behind her at 2:35 PM. “You’re behind by twenty minutes.” She said softly, placing a fresh folder on the edge of the table. “And you haven’t eaten.”

“I’ll eat…later.” Nadine replied, flipping open the folder.

Jane hesitated. “Should I reschedule your chiropractor again?”

“Does he do brain surgery now? If not, no.”

✦

The rest of the day continued in a blur of depositions, and back-door negotiations. She squeezed in a quick stop at the firm’s media floor to prepare for an interview with New York Legal Elite next week—her sixth cover in two years.

By the time she returned to her office at 6:47 PM, her makeup was still flawless. But her shoulders had a weight she didn’t let show and her temples ached with the pressure of having to always be better. A pressure she put on herself everyday.

She sat at her desk, the city lights beginning to glow outside her window, and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

Three seconds. Just three seconds of quiet.

But then her phone buzzed.

BiBi: On our way up. The twins are bringing “surprises.” Brace yourself.

Nadine closed her eyes for one heartbeat before standing.

Her apartment was ten minutes away. She could beat them there, she thought. Maybe.

She did not beat them here. Inside, chaos was already blooming. Her penthouse was already lit up when she stepped inside at 7:15PM. She barely had time to set her bag down before she heard the commotion. Marley was dancing on the rug in her socks, while Micah had discovered the fridge’s smart screen and was trying to play Mario Kart through it.

“NADIIIIINE!” The two high-pitched voices screamed in unison. The twins came barreling toward her, curly hair flailing behind them like capes. They launched into her legs with the force of tiny meteors.

“Oof.” Nadine said, catching her balance. “Are you two ever not moving at Mach 10?”

“Nope!” Markey grinned. “We made cookies!”

“With Aunt Bianca’s help.” Micah added with a proud nod.

Bianca appeared behind them, holding a wine bottle and looking way too comfortable. “And I brought provisions. You look like you’ve had one of those weeks.” She said with a small pout on her lips.

Nadine raised a brow, looking over at the older woman. “I have those every week.”

“Exactly my point.”

“I missed the Nelson Towers!” Micah said, throwing herself dramatically onto Nadine’s ivory couch.

Nadine gave her a small smile, sliding off her heels. “Your mom should’ve brought you to court last week. You would’ve seen me destroy a man three times my size.”

“Did you throw a chair at him?” Marley asked.

“No, I used the law.”

“That’s boring.”

“No, my friends, that’s winning.” She grinned. As she moved around her home, making her way into the kitchen. Bianca settled onto a stool at the kitchen island, watching her sister silently. After a beat, she asked, “What time did you go to bed last night” she questioned, the sudden ask causing Nadine to scrunch her face as she looked over at her. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Bianca spoke again. “When was the last time you slept through the night?”

Nadine simply sighed as she turned her back and opened the fridge. “I sleep.”

“That’s not what I asked. I said through the night, not on your files. What time?”

Nadine pulled out a green juice and a yogurt, even though her stomach was already tight with stress. “B, I appreciate the visit. But I don’t need a wellness check. I’m at the top of my game, so I would say I’m doing pretty fine.” Nadine said with a small smile.

This only caused Bianca to give her a look. “You’re at the top of your ulcer.”

Nadine’s sarcastic grin dropped as her jaw flexed, nostril flaring as she glared at her sister.

Bianca continued, gently now. “Nay, you’re doing amazing. But you’ve been in trial mode for two straight years. You don’t date. You barely see sunlight. You don’t even blink unless it’s part of a strategy or some shit.”

Nadine stayed quiet, her spoon tapping the edge of the yogurt cup.

“You don’t have to prove anything anymore.” Bianca added.

And that struck something. Not that Nadine showed it.

“It’s not about proving.” She finally said. “It’s about maintaining. You fight your way up from nothing, and you learn fast—falling isn’t dramatic. It’s silent and quick. It’s one missed call, one lost case. One person thinking you’ve lost your edge.”

Bianca didn’t press further. Instead, she let out a sigh before she called out to her children. “Alright girls, thirty minutes, then we’re heading out.”

The twins groaned but obeyed, bouncing off to the guest room.

Bianca reached for Nadine’s tablet to put on a cartoon on the television, or something to entertain them while she packed snacks.

What she didn’t notice was Micah and Marley sneaking back in and whispering behind the kitchen counter. They had a letter in their hands, a piece of paper they found tossed haphazardly in the living room. And once they read it, the twins were all on board.

“There it is!” Marley whispered.

“I wonder why she didn’t answer. Robots are so cool.” Micah questioned, rereading the page over and over again in excitement. “Maybe she didn’t want one.”

“That’s dumb.” Markey sighed before pulling out her purple glitter pen from her back pocket. “Should I do it?” She questioned, looking over at her twin. There was a moment of silence that passed between them, staring into the other’s eyes before looking back down at the paper.

“Do it.” They said at the same time.

With sticky fingers and wild curiosity, they marked the “Accept Housing Unit” checkbox on the government letter Nadine had flagged but never opened. Marley then folded it back up before move to place it into the mail slot next to the front door, hearing the suction sound as the letter was whisked away back to the owner.

A pop-up confirmed the delivery on the screen next Mail Drop, causing the to high-five before they scurried off. “Okay, now we have to fill this out.” Micah said, pulling the retractable delivery screen closer as the screen loaded a soft blue logo. AURA | Adaptive User Response Assistant. Marley was already typing on the screen like she worked at NASA. “We so can’t tell mom about this.” Micah mumbled nervously.

“No one’s telling Mom.” Marley muttered.

“Okay, well, if Auntie Nadine gets mad, I’m blaming you,” Micah said, peering at the glowing tablet in his sister’s lap. Marley let out a sigh, rolling her eyes at her brother. “She’s not gonna get mad,” Markey tressed with a whisper. “She’s gonna love it. You saw the commercial—this thing can do laundry, make dinner, answer emails. It’s like if Iron Man was a butler.”

“No, it’s like if Pennyworth was a robot.” Micah added, eyeing the girl next to him. “That was a really bad…analogy? Have you ever even read Ironman?” The boy judged.

“Shut up.” Marley deadpanned. “We’re making Auntie Nadine’s house ten times cooler. You think she’s gonna notice another package with all the stuff she orders?”

“She will if it walks and talks.”Micah said, grinning. “Now hurry. I think this is the setup survey and anyone can come checking up on his at any minute.”

The screen adjusted to a smooth, futuristic interface.

AURA Configuration Survey. Optional. But, if you want to make the experience unforgettable…

“Unforgettable.” Marley repeated with a smirk. “Let’s go.”

Private Configuration Survey – AURA Unit #007

Answer honestly to ensure optimal user experience.(Note: Once submitted, preferences are locked in for bonding phase.)

1. What kind of support will the user benefit from most? (Select all that apply):

[ ] Physical assistance (lifting, running, protection). [ ] Task management (emails, errands, organization). [x] Emotional balance (stress de-escalation, energy reading). [x] Conversational engagement (company, reminders, reflection)

“Definitely that one,” Marley said, pointing. “She talks to herself too much.”

“I don’t think she notices.”

2. What is the user’s current lifestyle?

[ ] Highly active, social, fast-pace. [x] Independent, professional, busy. [ ] Creative, exploratory, experimental. [ ] Relaxed, home-oriented

3. How should AURA respond under pressure?

[ ] Assertive and directive. [x] Calm and grounded. [ ] Humorous and light [ ] Silent until prompted

4. What kind of presence should AURA have in the home?

[ ] Subtle but attentive. [x] Always on-hand. [ ] In the background unless called. [ ] Commanding and structured

5. How emotionally intuitive should AURA be

[ ] Not at all—task-focused only. [ ] Moderately—pick up on moods, offer support. [x] Highly—understand shifts in tone, body language, even silences

“Okay, she’s gonna love that.”Marley said with a grin. “Remember when she cried at the end of Paddington 2?”

“Well, so did I….”

6. The user prefers companions who are…

[x] Thoughtful and calm. [ ] Straightforward and direct. [ ] Reserved and quiet. [ ] High energy and expressive

7. Ideal communication style?

[ ] Formal and efficient. [x] Warm and intuitive. [ ] Light and witty. [ ] Minimal

8. Would the user appreciate personal attention to detail? (e.g. remembering birthdays, moods, routines):

[x] Yes. [ ] No. [ ] Only when relevant

9. AURA should interact like…

[ ] A professional assistant. [x] A loyal companion. [ ] A discreet observer. [ ] A supportive coach

Micah tilted his head. “What does ‘loyal companion’ mean?”

Marley shrugged. “I think it just means cool sidekick energy. Like Watson or Chewbacca.”

“Nice.”

10. Anything else we should know about the user? (Optional):

Marley hummed in thought for a moment before she began typing quickly. “She drinks coffee every morning at 6:45, she falls asleep with documentaries on, animal or history, and she forgets to eat when she’s on high emotions. Anger, stress, sadness. She likes it when people notice little things but gets weird when you say nice stuff too directly. She’s kind of secretly lonely but she won’t admit it. Oh, and she likes jazz but not the weird kind with screechy horns.”

Micah blinked. “Whoa. That’s kinda deep. You really know your stuff.”

“I pay attention.” The girl said. Marley then hit SUBMIT with a grin.

The screen flashed. Profile Logged. Preparing AURA for transport. Estimated arrival: 2-3 business days.

The twins then high-fived. “She’s gonna freak out.” Micah whispered.

“In a good way.”Marley added. “Hopefully.”

✦

It was now the next day, and if you couldn’t tell by now, Nadine Nelson was not one to wake up late.

That was the first rule of her universe. The first part to her routine. Her alarm chimed at precisely 5:45 AM, every morning without fail, a single soft note, like the chip of a bird, before she silenced it, sat up, and began the orchestration that was her life. Her body and mind moved like synchronized gears in a Swiss watch—sleek, efficient, and expensive.

So when a loud, jarring knock knock knock banged against her front door at 6:15 AM, it was not just an interruption.

It was an affront.

Her eyes snapped open, head jerking toward the illuminated time panel beside her bedroom light switch. 6:15? Her jaw clenched. She was already behind schedule.

Muttering under her breath, she shoved off her covers and grabbed her silk robe from the hook near her bed. Her movements were less precise this morning, more agitated than usual, and still a bit sleepy as her slippers scuffed across the hardwood as she stormed to the front door.

When she opened it, ready to deliver a verbal cease and desist, she paused.

There was a man at her door, next to a large package. But the man at her doorstep didn’t look like the usual FedEx or UPS guy. He wore a crisp black-and-white suit with polished shoes, a slim earpiece tucked behind one ear. He stood beside a large, square wooden crate perched on a steel dolly, taller than he was and easily the size of a refrigerator.

“Yes?” Nadine asked, her tone sharp as broken glass.

The man, unreadable behind dark glasses, tilted his head. “Are you Nadine Nelson?”

She didn’t like the way he asked it. Like he already knew the answer.

“Yes.” She replied flatly, arms crossed over her robe.

“Great. This is for you.” He said, stepping forward and pushing the crate toward her. Nadine moved out of shock, and instinct with a crate that size barking towards her, inevitably letting the man in with the crate, but once she realized she was coming drier into her honey she stepped in, palms up. “Uh, excuse me!” She said, stopping him. “I didn’t order anything. And certainly not something that looks like it should be in a warehouse.”

The man didn’t blink, but that the should tell through his glasses. “You are Nadine Nelson, correct?”

She sighed, jaw tight. “Yes. I already said that.”

“Then this is for you.”

Without another word, he wheeled the box into her foyer. Her eyes widened as the dolly clacked over her expensive floors, the crate casting a looming shadow across the pristine white walls of her home, from the sun shining through the large windows.

“Wait—hold on.” Nadine said, gripping the belt of her robe. “I’m serious. I did not order this. You need to take it back.”

The man was already turning for the door. “Take it up with customs, ma’am.”

“What? Customs? What customs?”

He ignored her completely. As he stepped outside, Nadine caught him press two fingers to the earpiece tucked behind his ear. “It’s been delivered.” He said coolly, then walked down the hallway of her luxury building as her front door slid shut on its own.

Nadine stood there in stunned silence, her arms hanging at her sides as she stared at the box now squatting in the middle of her living room.

Then she screamed.

A long, guttural scream that echoed off the marble and glass of her carefully curated life. Something she tended to do to let out her overflowing emotions.

And after a minute or two of huffing out of breath and anger, she turned on her heel and stormed back to her bedroom. Her phone was still on the nightstand, glowing from a few missed notifications. She didn’t even bother to text. She opened her voice message, hit record, and in her usual no-nonsense tone, she snapped.

“Clear my schedule for today. All of it. There’s some bullshit I need to take care of.”She pressed send to Jane, and then tossed the phone onto the bed without a second thought.

Back in the hallway, she opened the hall closet and pulled out a crowbar from the bottom shelf of her emergency tool kit. She hadn’t touched it since she assembled her custom bookcases two years ago, but it felt oddly satisfying in her grip.

The walk back into the living room was almost cinematic if someone else was there to view it—robe flowing, face full of anger, slippers skimming the floor, crowbar in hand. The crate sat there like a taunt. Uninvited. Immovable.

She didn’t hesitate to go to town, unleashing her irritation onto the box. Nadine wedged the crowbar into the gap between the wood slats and yanked. A nail groaned before it snapped loose, followed by another, and another. She was methodical but furious, stripping the crate open like a woman possessed with rage. Bits of sawdust and packing foam floated through the air, nails flying left and right, a bit dangerous but she didn’t seem to care at the moment. All of it littering her previously immaculate living room.

Nadine kicked aside the last of the packing material, breath puffing from her lips in irritation. She was done. Done with the entire thing. She expected to find an overpriced espresso machine or something.

But instead, she opened the crate and was met with… another crate?

Her brows lifted, her irritation fading into a slow, confused frown.

It wasn’t like the shipping box. This one was different. Striking. A dark wood, deep mahogany with an almost matte sheen. The surface gleamed with intricate carvings, elegant but oddly ancient, like something pulled from the archives of some old, forgotten dynasty from long ago. And in the center was a large gem. Oval-shaped, but a natural look to it, like it was just pulled from the earth and placed into the center. It was embedded like a heart, its color a deep blue, almost black in the shadows but gleaming cerulean where the light hit. It shimmered like water at midnight.

Nadine let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her fingers hovered over the jewel, almost drawn to it, like it was calling to something beneath her skin. Something primal.

She reached forward.

The stone was cool. Smooth. Her fingertips just barely grazed the surface when—

FLASH.

The gem lit up instantly, glowing from within like a waking eye. Nadine gasped and jerked her hand back, stumbling slightly.

“What the hell?” She whispered.

But she couldn’t look away, no matter how bright the light got

The light from the gemstone pulsed slowly, rhythmically, like it had a heartbeat. And then, as if in response to her shock, the carvings along the chest began to glow as well—lines of a sliver blue creeping from the jewel into the grooves and patterns etched into the wood, filling every line until the whole thing shimmered in a way that made her chest tighten with unease and…awe.

Nadine blinked, and her heart thudded against her ribs.

This—this was definitely not something you could order off Amazon.

And that’s when she noticed it. Taped to the inner panel of the crate, partially obscured by packing straw, was an envelope. Thick. Heavy. Cream-colored paper with a glossy finish and silver wax seal.

She reached for it, peeling it free. The seal bore the emblem of the United States, but stylized. Sleek. Futuristic. Her name was printed across the front in smooth, robotic cursive.

𝐓𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧

She frowned. A deep, suspicious furrow. This crate was for her?

Snatching the envelope, she tore it open and unfolded the single sheet inside. The words were printed, formal, precise. But they sent a jolt down her spine.

𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐬. 𝐍𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧,

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡-𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝, 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞, 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐥.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞.

—𝐂.𝐑.𝐈.𝐒.

𝐂𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 | 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

There was a purple glitter check mark by the question. And she closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath, already knowing who to blame for this. Nadine stared at the letter, then at the crate, then back again.

She was going to kill her niece and nephew.

And then—once the twins were grounded for life and Bianca was chewed out for letting them touch her mail—she was going to sue whoever thought it was cute to send her a six-foot robot without consent.

But for now, she placed the letter down slowly and stepped closer to the chest.

It hummed. Just once. A low vibration that rippled across the wood floor and into the soles of her feet. Then, the chest unfastened with a hiss.

The lid groaned.

A long, sinuous sound of pressure escaping, like the breath of something long dormant finally allowed to exhale. Mist pooled from the edges of the ornate coffin-like crate, curling along the floor like tendrils of fog. The dim morning light poured through the windows, catching the shimmer of the gemstone embedded in the chest—still pulsing with a slow, deliberate rhythm, like a heartbeat.

Nadine stared, crowbar slack in her hand, chest rising and falling too fast for comfort.

Inside, the shape was obscured. Cloth. A velvet-like black material draped across something… someone.

Another hiss whispered from the crate. The latches disengaged with an audible thunk. And slowly, ever so slowly, the coffin-like chest began to open—hinges smooth and silent, assisted by unseen tech. The lid released fully and slid backward, revealing more of the figure beneath.

Nadine inched forward, each footstep muffled by the hush of mist and the pounding of her heart. Her instincts screamed at her to stop. To turn around. To call someone. Her sister. Jane. The FBI. The CIA. The Pope.

She stared at it, eyes narrowing. “What did you two do?” She muttered, already picturing her nieces, innocent smiles hiding devilish delight, whispering and giggling as they plotted this chaos.

But her curiosity was stronger. That damned glimmering jewel. That sleek envelope with her name etched like some sort of prophecy. That letter that claimed this… thing knew her already.

The cloth stirred and Nadine froze.

Then the fabric peeled itself away—mechanically, precisely—revealing skin.

Well, no, not skin. It couldn’t be. It was just some beautiful mimicry of it. Smooth and matte. A man’s chest, carved with symmetrical precision and framed by sculpted shoulders. They were bare and powerful in the right compression shirt with the cut sleeves.

Nadine’s breath hitched.

And then he sat up. The fabric slipped off like water while Nadine stared, mouth slightly open.

It was slow and graceful, like someone waking from a century-long slumber. The man—because that’s what he looked like, down to the subtle flex of his hands—was breathtaking. Sculpted. Not just handsome, but deliberately so, he was made this way. Smooth dark skin, eyes like obsidian glass, and a face that didn’t seem designed but born from every secret longing she’d never dared voice. His eyes opened—two smoldering pools of warm obsidian, rimmed faintly with glints of silver. They found hers immediately.

Nadine staggered back a step.

He blinked once. Tilted his head. And then—smiled.

Not a robotic, lifeless twitch. But a curve of the mouth that felt… devastatingly real. It was warm and gentle. Intimate in a way.

Nadine almost forgot he was meant to be a robot and not some random man in a box.

“Nadine.” He said.

Her name, from his lips, made something low in her belly twist. His voice was deep, perfectly modulated, with just enough grit to make her toes curl. It was soft but strong, like thunder rolling far away across the sea.

“You—you know my name?” She asked, trying not to sound like a complete idiot. But she did anyways with the uncharacteristic stutter that slipped through, totally unlike her. The crowbar was still in her hand, but it felt laughable now. She wasn’t in danger. She was… almost enchanted in a way.

“Yes.” He said, stepping forward with fluid, feline grace. He towered a good foot above her, dressed in a fitted black uniform that shimmered faintly in the light. “I’ve always known your name, known it since you were assigned to the prototype queue.” He replied. “I was made for you. I’ve been learning you ever since.”

“Learning me?” She repeated, throat dry.

His eyes softened as he nodded. “I’ve watched your presentations. Your interviews. I’ve studied your calendar. Your habits. Your moods. What calms you. What drives you. What keeps you up at night.”

Her brows furrowed. “And why would you do that?”

“So I could be ready when you needed me.”

The words hit her like a wave. Sudden and unsettled something deep within her. It was undeniable.

“I didn’t need anyone.” She snapped at him out of instinct.

The man tilted his head, his eyes glowing blue as he scanned her face. ‘Defensive’ it flashed across his eyes. “No.” He agreed. “But you deserve someone.”

And then there was silence. A thick, emotional silence hung between them as Nadine stared up at him. His face was symmetrical, almost distractingly beautiful—like something a sculptor would weep over. But it was his gaze that disarmed her. No flicker of code was viable besides the unnatural glow, and even that was a bit comforting. There was no empty mimicry. He just looked at her, his eyes never once leaving her face.

“Who… what are you?” She whispered.

He then extended a hand with a small smile. Palm up. As if offering her not just an answer, but himself.

“I am AURA-7.” He said. “My designated name is Michael, but you can call me whatever feels right.”

Nadine didn’t move at first, her brain screaming a thousand warnings at her as her eyes flicked between his face and hang. Her chest was tight, unsure.

But her hand reached out anyway.

And when their skin touched—when her fingers slid against his palm—it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t metal. It was warm. Comforting and real. And this was the first time she’s touched someone in such a non work manner in a long time.

He smiled again, this time slower, more intimate.

And Nadine Nelson, woman of routine, disciple of control, high priestess of solitude… felt her entire world shift beneath her feet.

[villainintern]

... is an upcoming Choicescript interactive fiction game! You can follow development updates on the dev blog here, view the forum page here, and play the demo here.

Villain Intern is currently right at the end of Chapter One: Onboarding as of 5/18/25, sitting at just over 58,000 words.

[FAQ Here and character introductions here, for the newer villains!]

Play as an aspiring supervillain interning at UnderHand, a legacy criminal corporation. Start from the bottom and navigate a world where everyone has it out for you, leveraging your strange superhuman abilities and your knack for manipulation. Make a name for yourself as an executive villain (with your own swanky corner office!), or turn against your higher-ups and usurp the company,…or throw away your promising career for the greater good, I guess...

Powers and Customization:

Choose from two different ability trees. Play as either a homemade cyborg with (painful looking) mechanical augmentations of your own design, or a genetically mutated freak with mysterious, bizarre abilities derived from animal genes. Choose 3 of the 9 unique abilities available for each power type, which update (or mutate) to scale as you get stronger. Climb walls, perfectly mimic any voice, rotate your head 360 degrees, talk to the AI assistant in your brain, etc etc! As a rule, you start out villainous, but whether you’re charming or sinister, sniveling or demanding, and backstabbing or frontstabbing is up to you.

______________________________________________________________

Key Characters and Relationships

Relationship progression tracks two major stats- your connection with a character, and your rivalry, which are not mutually exclusive. So you can romance your greatest nemesis, backstab your closest friend, that kind of thing. Or both at once, with the same person, even..

Fellow Interns:

👾 Peter Hyde is your cubicle neighbor, a geeky slackoff who’s fond of novelty ties. Unlike you, Peter doesn’t really want to be here, but he seems for some reason unable to quit. Laid-back, conflict avoidant, and generally easy to manipulate, he’s easy minion material for the MC- but his attitude belies a volatile, monstrous secret. Which can be a great asset or a major risk, depending on if you can maintain your control over him.

🤖 T9-670 is a seven-foot tall ex-war machine. Once a military member conscripted to UnderHand’s private security decal, its contract didn’t end when it died- the soldier’s brain was transplanted into a humanoid steel frame with a dark glass plate for a face. T9 is doing some soul searching- it’s not totally sure if it even has one left, but it would like to have a purpose beyond fixing printers and mowing down UnderHand’s enemies with its plasma gun.

🔬 Dr. Dr. Elaine Foster is an up-and-coming mad scientist, assistant to the esteemed Dr. Shrink. Don’t bring up the fact that she has two doctorates and is still an intern. She’s a genius prodigy, but otherwise has no superhuman abilities, which causes her to be overlooked by your superiors. Passionate and inscrutable, she’s obsessed with making it to the top her own way, and will remain one step ahead of you if you aren’t careful.

🧪 Reid/Reney Sullivan (gender selectable, nb included) is your nemesis, or at least they think so. They’re employed by OverSight, the subsidized hero-corporation that works in tandem with the government. An interning hero with impressive telekinetic powers, they are nonetheless as much of an amateur as you, and so you find yourself on even footing with one of the most promising superheroes in the business. Earnest and witty, they genuinely just want to help people. Eventually, they become fixated on “figuring you out”, which can lead to them getting sucked into your schemes. That, or their meddling could be your downfall. Worst of all, they might even succeed in reforming you.

There’s also 👁️ Blink, a rogue superhuman- some say vigilante, others say independent villain. Completely anonymous, they wear a unique suit of tactical gear that allows them to turn completely invisible, the first of its kind. Quippy, chipper, and sauntering, they tend to use their powers for ridiculous, showy things like popping up behind newscasters on TV. An invisible superhuman that loves the spotlight, Blink is full of contradictions. And secrets, big ones, that pertain to you.

… plus a cast of older, more established villains and heroes- including The Man, UnderHand’s enigmatic CEO. A faceless, hollow man in an empty suit. Actually, nobody’s ever seen anything but the suit, so he might just be the suit.

______________________________________________________________

FURTHER READING: 🌃THE PINTEREST BOARD 🎧THE PLAYLIST

TAG ORGANIZATION: VI Updates - The big stuff, new demo content VI Info - The info posts, development news VI Asks - Anything coming through the inbox VI Characters - Character related info/bonus content VI Sketches - Doodles and concept art Lore - What it says on the tin. Anything worldbuildy The Fridge - The place of honor for fan art! Pinned to my imaginary fridge with a digital magnet

[ozzgin]

Sorry to bother you, but the bodyguard post you did was just 🤤🥰😍 and I can't stop thinking about it day later

Have you ever seen Oshi no Ko? I'd love to see Bodyguard react to someone trying to do something similar as what happened to Ai.

Fans get wind their beloved idol might have feeling for her staff, so a crazed fan tracks down her private address. He plans to get revenge for "His idol cheating on him" but doesn't know there is a guard dog inside ready to bite any threat to his precious charge.

Sorry to keep ragging on about the topic, I just adore you work enough that it lives in my head rent free.

Happy holidays

-🌟

I sadly haven't seen Oshi no Ko, but your description sounds very interesting. Thank you for the idea! I've combined it with your previous suggestion, I think they work together really well. Happy Holidays to you, too! :)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (II)

Your new manager has sent you home for the holidays after persistent rumors surrounding you and your bodyguard. And, as luck would have it, the fan responsible for the accusations successfully sneaks his way in. Sadly for him, you’ve never left the watchful gaze of your loyal, mean dog.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

content: female reader, violence, threats, mentions of stalking

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Enjoy your holidays!" 

The driver cheerfully bids you goodbye and speeds away, leaving you behind the imposing gate. You drag your luggage inside and nonchalantly toss it with an annoyed huff.

What now? You're all alone in a hollow mansion. 

Early December you begun receiving worrying letters from a fan, making wild claims about you and your bodyguard. Naturally, you laughed it off. Your bodyguard found them equally amusing. So much, that he'd ask you to read them out loud as you rode him. "I w-won't stand for it. You know we ha-ave something special going on, (Y/N)-chan." You barely managed to form coherent sentences, feverishly clinging to the large man underneath you. "You heard the guy. Better be on your best behavior", he'd add with a chuckle, wiping the drool from your mouth. 

The new manager, however, wasn't as relaxed about it. He couldn't risk tarnishing the reputation of his beloved cash cow, so he suggested you take a break from personal assistants until the rumors tone down. If you remained within your expensively secured house, you wouldn't need any guarding. So, he caringly prescribed a dose of homely isolation for the upcoming holidays. 

"Don't be so dramatic", he said, "Jesus spent 40 days in the desert by himself. And he didn't have your indoor cinema or jacuzzi bathtub."

"Yeah, but he had the Devil to tempt him. Where's my bad guy?" You whined as a retort. 

You let out another groan and throw yourself on the couch, fiddling with the remote. Kind of them to decorate everything for Christmas, you think as you eye the gigantic kitsch of a tree slapped in the middle of the living room. 

Fuck. What an absolute waste of time. All because of one crazy fan. You almost wish he'd show his stupid face so your bodyguard could pummel it to bits and crumbles. You wonder what he's doing by himself. Is he going to be assigned to another idol? Probably not, two weeks is too short of a time for anything. You check your phone.

Suddenly, the screen lights up. A text notification. 

"Bored?"

Heh. It's almost as if he can read your mind. You smile to yourself and type your response, stretching onto the sofa. Your little back and forth messaging goes on until you look up and notice the room has gotten darker. Already evening. You can hear your stomach growl, so you get up and drag your feet towards the kitchen, searching for takeaway fliers. If you're going to be under house arrest, the least you can afford is junk food. 

Once you place your decadent order, you hop onto the counter and idly dangle your legs in anticipation. Your favorite off-duty guard dog has abruptly told you he needs to go and is now offline. "Something came up". What could possibly require his immediate attention? A mistress? You giggle at the idea. In all your time spent together, you haven't seen him glance at a single woman. If he must, he will engage with other people using one-word replies, visibly uninterested. You never considered him much of a talker, but his behavior with anyone else, in comparison, is downright hostile. 

There's a rustling sound and you jolt. Was the food delivered already? It hasn't been that long. You jump off the marble countertop and freeze in place once you see the man standing in the doorway. His face is concealed with a medical mask and he's audibly panting, the hot air fogging up his glasses. You notice the knife in his hand.

"How rude of you to cheat on me so shamelessly, (Y/N) dear."

Huh? Your eyes widen in realization. Was this the crazed fan bombarding you with threatening letters? Your features twist in utter disgust, still transfixed on the weapon within his grip. 

This little shit. Not only does he break into your home, but he decides to intimidate you with a department store kitchen utensil. Is that all you're worth? Is that any way to greet one of the top idols in this country?

You angrily pull the nearby drawer open and grab a long, sharp blade. The man tenses up and steps forward, but you stop him in his tracks, throwing the item at his feet. He stares at you, bewildered. 

"It's a Yoshihiro Sashimi knife. More than your monthly income, most likely." You state as you leer down at him, grimace plastered on your face. "Pick it up like the animal you are."

He cannot move. Is this his beloved (Y/N)? Her pretty, innocent smile and sparkling eyes have been replaced by this hateful scowl. He feels like a cockroach about to be stepped on, a mere vermin invading her personal space. This can't be right. It's him that should be upset, he's the betrayed party. When has she gotten so...Ah. This must be the work of that bodyguard. He's always known. The way he looks at her, with a predatory glint as if marking his territory. He should've noticed earlier. Poor, sweet (Y/N), at the hands of a brute. Tears form in his eyes and he opens his mouth to speak up, but a burning blow assaults his back and everything goes black. 

Your bodyguard casually walks in and lifts the intruder up by the nape of his neck. 

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

You blush and wipe your eyelashes dramatically, releasing a gentle sob from your puckered lips.

"Touch? He almost killed me! I was so scared...I thought I was done for."

He frowns at your words.

"I'll take care of it."

You can feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach. As he drags the body out of the kitchen, you follow behind enthusiastically. 

"Do it in the living room!" You almost squeal.

"Are you sure? It will get messy. I'm not letting this one walk out." He warns you with a worried expression. 

"Yes, yes!" you nod, all bubbly. "Right here, next to the Christmas tree."

Once the gory spectacle is over, the bodyguard sprawls onto the sofa, exhausted. He exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. You are about to join him, when a thought crosses your mind. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you know I was about to be attacked? That was some really extraordinary timing."

Out of reflex, he palms his pocket to check if his phone is still within his possession. Thankfully he hasn't left it in plain sight. You squint suspiciously. 

"Are you spying on me or something?"

He remains quiet for a few moments and eventually lowers his head apologetically, avoiding eye contact.

"Forgive me, Miss."

When he glances up again, your small figure is looming over him.

"Wow, what a pervert you are." You push his chin up with your dainty fingers. "How will you make it up to me for such nasty habit~?"

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Good boy."

[shadesofmauve]

Alliance Normandy SR2 redesign: Deck 3

The crew deck sits in the middle of the ship, where the hull is widest. This is where design for a larger crew really comes into play.

Sleeping and other bodily functions

The main bathrooms are roughly the same shape and location as in-game, but people walking by no longer have a great view of the showers every time the doors open.

Enlisted racks

24 enlisted racks line the corridor to the main battery, housing the bulk of the rank-and-file. Bunks are stacked two high, with uniform lockers to one side and coffin-lockers under the mattress.Footholds in between sets of bunks let you can reach the top without stepping on the one below.

Junior officers' quarters

I assume a spaceship needs more technical expertise and less grunt work, so the crew is weighted towards officers and highly-trained technical specialists. These specialists fill non-command roles and bunk with the junior officers. Joker (flight lieutenant) and Traynor (comms specialist) berth here. So does Kaidan, because at the point he came aboard the guest stateroom was occupied by Khalisah Al-Jilani, and bunking with marines would muddy command waters because he seriously outranks Vega.

Bunks are two-high with coffin lockers just like the enlisted racks, but officers rate four inches more elbow room and two inches more to stretch out their toesies. They also get a bit more privacy, a little more storage, and access to the lounge overlooking the eezo core*.

*I gave them a lounge because in ME3 you occasionally find officers chatting at a table in the middle of the bunk room, and if anyone did that while I was trying to sleep three feet away I'd commit murder.

Senior officers' country

Miranda's old quarters, which Liara claims in ME3, are large enough to house the entire senior staff in staterooms, with one extra for guests and a shared head. Each room has one permanent bunk (two inches wider and four longer than junior officers; swank) and one fold-out upper-bunk in case of extra passengers.

In Sunset and Evening Star the first thing Shepard does on the Citadel is sign on a first officer**, old navy hand Lieutenant Commander Nguyen. The first thing Nguyen does is fill the missing weapons and ops roles (she heads the navigation department herself, since it's a small ship).

With Shepard in the admiral's quarters on deck 1, First Officer Nguyen gets what would have been the captain's cabin on the crew deck (except while Primarch Victus and his aide were aboard; when she gave up her quarters to the turians). Mukerjee, the head of ops, gets the slightly-larger-than-standard cabin intended for the XO.

Garrus has the 'extra' stateroom, as their liaison with the turians. He keeps the desk folded for space and sleeps crouched in one corner; the bunk is useless to him.

**Shepard delegated something! It's a Mass Effect miracle!

Vital ship functions

Main battery

The main battery looks exactly the same, except Garrus isn't sleeping in the corner or constantly fiddling with the guns. In fact, he's never fiddling with the guns. He and Silva were spending hours re-calibrating the thanix cannon to their own preferences whenever the other person's back was turned, and Nguyen stepped in and banned Garrus from the armory before it moved from passive aggression to murderous-interspecies-diplomatic-catastrophe.

AI core

Access to the AI core is from the battery corridor, not through the medical bay.

Medical bay

The medbay is divided into a front office, the main med bay, and an area for major surgery or isolation. There's also a small private cabin for the two members of the medic corps who assist Chakwas.

Life support

The life support corridor has another four enlisted racks, bringing the total enlisted berths on the crew deck to thirty. Life support itself is basically unchanged, except for some added Important Keep People Alive machines. Like engineering, life support systems are also spread throughout the ship.

Food & leisure

Mess & galley

The mess seats 32. It's also all-watch meetings are held, and occasionally movie screenings. Crew can grab shelf-stable snacks, cereal, or recent leftovers from self-serve areas outside the galley, or collect the meal currently on offer at the counter.

The galley feeds three shifts three times a day each, and one watch's breakfast comes immediately before the previous watch's dinner. About a week out, stores of fresh produce are gone, so a lot of food is frozen, freeze dried, or reconstituted. There's always something to eat; one of the two big pots is almost always full of soup, if not both Bread is made from scratch (flour keeps indefinitely, bread doesn't), and there's a flat-top as well as a six-burner range. The food storage in the galley and nearby walk-in are only what the cooks expect to need for the next two days or so; food actually makes up most of the Normandy's cargo, stored on deck 4.

Observation lounges

The observation lounges, important for crew morale and sanity on longer missions, are differentiated by volume. Starboard is generally used for quieter conversation, reading, solo gaming, or study. The Port lounge is for parties and games. (There is no free wet bar, this is a military ship).

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

[bella-goths-wife]

How yandere Vs use your ability

Platonic vox, val and velvette x assistant reader

Please let me know if you enjoy this :)

MDNI

Warnings: Valentino, SA mentions, porn mentions, reader is uncomfortable a lot, reader uses their ability to hurt people

Vox:

When vox first met you in that disgusting alley way, he assumed that he’d get a few good uses of your ability for a few months and then either work you to death or kick you to the curb

But when he took a closer look at your ability, he realised how powerful he could make you

He looked at you and saw pure potential of the future, someone he could mold to his image and rise to his level

Or well, just below him

He saw how effectively you could manipulate and summon sound at your command, he saw the easy way you could charm someone just by giving them a soothing song in their ear

Or how you could steal someone’s words and make a completely new sentence with them, like a DJ remix’s songs but with actual words instead of music

You were like a perfected piece of AI, someone who could make something new from something old

He claims his favourite way to use your ability is when he combines his hypnosis with your ability to create new music, he’d have you make him jingles for voxtech and combined his hypnosis within them to make the most profit

But this is a lie, he enjoys his private uses of your ability much more

He likes watching you use your ability to hurt other people, because he can see the true potential in you in moments like that

He sees how he could make you like him, bloodthirsty and ambitious

He wants to make you into something similar to a successor, an heir of sorts even if he’d never allow himself to die

But he believes you must earn that title, so he will command cruelty out of you no matter how hesitant you are

He’s seen how you can be a soft touch and while he appreciates some gentleness in his afterlife, he finds himself wanting to make it so your cruel to everyone but him and the Vs

He sees softness as weakness, and he wants to have that weakness preserved for him

He would never admit his intentions to anyone, it’s best they think your just a lowly assistant who is just another soul chained to vox’s cruel hand

For your safety of course, or that’s the reason he’s deluded himself into believing

But he can’t hide his pride in certain moments, when he commands you to make a sinners ears bleed by using high frequencies of sound on them

And when your forced to comply, he can’t help the fondness that seeps into his smile as he watches you and your wincing face

Almost like a proud father watching his daughter…

Velvette:

When velvette first met you, all she saw was some scrappy sewer rat that vox hired for a few months to make up for the fact that exterminations had wiped out a few voxtech employees

So she assumed that she’d just make do with your presence until your eventually killed or fired

So she didn’t really want to spend time getting to know you, what was the point of that?

That was until she saw you using your ability, now that was a sight for sore eyes

She knew that people in the V tower were rude to you, called you names or mocked you

She didn’t particularly care so she just let it continue, even when it happened around her

But someone had said something velvette couldn’t hear, but she could definitely see it struck a very deep nerve in you

They collapsed and held their ears while screeching in pain, but you just held a calm look as you stared at them

That definitely intrigued her, and that rarely happens in hell nowadays

So she cornered you one night as you were doing the Vs paperwork and interrogated you about what else you could do

And when she heard you could manipulate sounds around you, even words, she couldn’t stop the devilish grin that spread across her face

She’d show you countless videos of people who posed a threat to her speaking, and then she’d command you to manipulate the words with your ability to make them say extremely damaging or embarrassing things

People can still get cancelled in hell y’know, just takes a lot more effort

She’d record you doing this and upload the audio online and watch as the business that was a threat to her crumble

You became an asset to velvette that day, and that’s as close as friends you could get with velvette

Her obsession grew from there, she used to look at you like a temporary nuisance

Now she looks at you like a prized pet who she can command to bark when she’s bored

She’ll even teach you a few tricks if you behave

Valentino:

At first Valentino saw in you what he sees in most sinners, a pretty face and good body

He presented himself around you like he would any other sinner, and vox allowed this to happen until he felt himself growing attached

So vox forbid Valentino from his usual behaviours around you, claimed you were too young for it despite being 18

But you were thankful enough to be spared from the lavish porn sets that Valentino was usually found in

So originally Valentino just used you as an assistant and then he realised how you could use your ability to help him

You could manipulate sounds, and he knew he could use you to cut out hours of editing time for his videos

You see, a pornstar may be a great actor but after five shoots in a row they aren’t gonna sound as enthusiastic at the end as they do at the start

So Valentino would force you to listen to an actors moans from the first few shoots of the day and then would command you to use your ability to make the moans sound more enthusiastic

You were extremely uncomfortable at all times and even vox couldn’t make Valentino stop, so eventually you had to get used to the sound and drown it out as best you could while using your ability

But this wasn’t his favourite way to use your ability, no that came a few months into your employment with voxtech

Valentino was prone to creating a dramatic, rage filled fit when things didn’t go his way

Usually only vox could calm him down from these fits, until you came along

He was raging in his studio one evening when everyone had left because he felt neglected by vox and angel dust wasn’t answering his calls

He thought he was alone as he destroyed his studio, he obviously failed to see little you in the corner as you were filling in paperwork

He continued to rage until he heard something ringing in his ears

It was a gentle humming, similar to one a mother would hum to her child in an attempt to get them to sleep

But the humming was mixed with a rhythmic, heart beat like sound behind it

Valentino felt himself sink into the sound as he sat on the ground for a few moments

He followed this siren song until his eyes met yours

He demanded an explanation, and you simply explained that you used your ability to manipulate your humming and heartbeat to create a calming effect on him

After that night Valentino would call for you every time he felt himself experiencing an emotion he wanted to get rid of quickly

You became more in his eyes after that, you became more valued and thus were treated better

He found himself craving your presence more and more, like how a child craves his favourite toy

He’s never shown affection or favouritism towards a sinner who he wasn’t sexually involved with, but he never felt that urge with you

You were more of a possession than someone he’d want to get with, he just couldn’t get himself to be attracted to you in that way

You were a calming toy, his little music box

You better hope you don’t refuse to play, Valentino doesn’t throw away his toys when they stop working

He just does what he can to ‘fix’ them no matter the pain caused

So don’t let yourself become rusty, or your face the consequences from all three of the Vs

What did you guys think

Also @buttercupfangirl asked for a tag so here you go :)

[jesuistrestriste]

your android art makes me think of the spielberg movie ai artificial intelligence (idk if you've watched it i recommend tho) where jude law plays i think a version of an android gigolo, i think that's what they call it? basically a robot prostitute...see where i'm going with that? the concept of prostitute android art....let that sink in 🚰🚪

i haven’t seen that film, but it sounds right up my alley and im very interested in how spielberg portrayed androids. hm. i will need to check this out soon, thank you for the rec..

also im opening the door and letting that sink in as we speak.

going off of something i mentioned in another ask: android!art exists in a universe similar to the one depicted in the video game detroit: become human, and in that game androids are used to fill a variety of different job positions—home aides, detectives, housekeepers, sex workers, etc. there’s even a club dedicated to commodifying an androids ability to engage in sexual acts (the eden club), aka it’s a club that allows individuals to rent a particular sex android for an allotted amount of time within the establishment. they go into a private room and do whatever they do.

could i see android!art being created specifically to be a sex-focused model? yes.

in the large fic ive been working on forever and have yet to post, i made him a household model designed to assist with cleaning, conversing, caretaking, and the like. it just fit him so well in my mind, esp because ive always been a big advocate for house husband!art (“cooking and cleaning” fic, you will always rest loyally in my heart). however, with how beautifully and tenderly his design team crafted him, i could see him being pushed out as a model for the sex clubs instead.

he’s got toned muscles that can be used to assist him in picking up and pinning down patrons, a pair of soft lips and a willing tongue that can work expertly into all of the little grooves of one’s body, and big blue eyes that are able to convey nothing stronger than they convey adoration and arousal. i think if he was a sex model, he would obviously be programmed as a switch—rough and mean when someone wants it, soft and pleading when they command it. his noises would also vary based on the person’s preference; whimpers, whines, moans, groans, growls, yelps. think he’d also be programmed to orgasm very hard every time he’s physically or verbally prompted to, w/ an adjustable refractory period. want to make him come in five minutes and be ready for more in two? sure thing! he can do it all:)

definitely going to write a nsfw blurb about this soon.

[kleinv01]

🩵 I'm hosting an art contest !

To celebrate my return from hiatus, I'd like to host something special! This is also a way to show how grateful I am for all of your support, even with my recent setbacks in development. RBs, likes, appreciated.

Read more how to join :

Theme(s) : → You and your favorite LI/character (if you're submitting illustrations entry)

→ Your favorite LI/character in your favorite mood (if you're submitting stickers or emotes entries)

Not allowed : NSFW (explicitly sexual (suggestive OK), extreme gore (mild OK)), hateful or illegal themes, AI assisted / generated illustrations, tracing, stealing, heavy referencing.

💝PRIZE : 1 free art commission from me. :3

You can choose between:

A fully rendered waist-up illustration , OR

A character sprite of your OC in the game’s art style

If we reach 30+ entries, there will be an added 2 winners!

📥To join : Submit your entry in the game's discord server here <

Alternatively, on any social medias you have (Tumblr and X (@himeir0) preferred, since I'm most active there), be sure to tag me @himeiro or this blog @kleinv01 or both lol, and the tag #Kleinv01Contest

You're also free to DM me (discord) if you want to submit privately. Please be aware I will be replying slowly.

Deadline will be on August 1st 2025, 00:00 GMT

I know I sound like a broken record right now, but I genuinely cannot say thank you enough. Managing my illnesses has been a real struggle but creating this game and you guys' support really keeps me going to try and do my best despite all. 🩵

Goodluck everyone! Please feel free to ask me if you have any questions 🩵

[gyusimp]

Hii, I feel like this isn’t really a great idea but I’m blank right now😭 I was wondering if a request of a Kenji sato and an assistant reader who reminds him of his meetings and does things for him. I thought it was pretty interesting like how sort Mina is

Like they are pretty flirty towards each other, maybe they celebrate a game win, and go to a bar and end up getting drunk and maybe get a bit touchy? It can be nsfw or not 😭

°•𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝑨𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

WARNINGS: A bit NSFW in the end. Ken had to hire a new assistant while Mina is under construction/repair, but he turns out to grow fonder of you than he expected. (He's not going to fire you when his AI is back, lol) Enjoy, hope you like it! 💖

Kenji Sato has been working alongside his assistant for some time now. Although your relationship is professional on the outside, you can't help the chemistry that arises between both of you due to the trust you both have in each other, especially in the moments of working together. You're always by his side, reminding him of his meetings, coordinating his schedule and making sure everything is in order, but between those formal exchanges, there are smiles, lingering glances and a slight tension that both of you pretend not to notice.

It's hard for you to ignore your boss's endless charms and not just physical but also in his way of being. You always work with quality and professionalism making Kenji congratulate you very often, he's even given you some gifts on occasion as a thank you. Like that expensive jewelry set with gems of your favorite color or that set of rings that was surely worth 5 of your salaries together. Even so, you did everything not for the material rewards but to feel that you were someone important to him, coming to share a closer friendship.

Kenji loved the way you worked, how you had already scheduled his important meetings with sponsors before he asked you or kept reminding him of things he forgot. You informed him about his comments in the press, on social media and from time to time you also managed his accounts. Kenji's whole life was perfectly organized because it was in your hands. You make him feel very calm and he trusts you completely.

After an impressive victory in one of his baseball games, Kenji invites his assistant to celebrate with him. He has already had a celebration with the whole team so now he was thinking of a more private date with one of his favorite people and at the same time it was the perfect excuse to ask you out. Although you usually keep a low profile, this time you gladly accept, delighted to see him so happy.

Just seeing you wearing a pretty tight dress instead of your usual formal clothes and your hair styled differently is enough to make his heart race and he can't help but tell you how different but beautiful you look, once again having another one of those chemistry moments between you two.

You two end up in a neon-lit bar, where the relaxed atmosphere and alcohol begin to loosen your inhibitions. The jokes and laughter you shared in the office now feel more intimate, and the barriers between the professional and the personal begin to blur. Neither of them were drunk, but the environment they were in definitely made them feel more confident with each other, hanging out as friends and not as assistant and boss.

As the night progresses, and after rounds of drinks, Kenji becomes more open and playful. He can’t help but tell you how much he appreciates your company, and his words become more and more personal and close. Feeling drawn to the vulnerable side you rarely see in him, you respond with equal warmth.

Laughter mixes with silences filled with tension as your hands begin to meet casually on the table, only to stay there longer than they should. Finally, in a moment of sincere connection, your eyes meet and the atmosphere between you becomes electric. You lean towards each other, and the contact becomes more than just flirting. When you finally feel your lips on his you close your eyes to kiss him, you think of a short kiss for fear of losing your job but you are surprised by his determination when he prolongs the kiss by taking your waist, making it slower and more passionate, letting his tongue come into contact with yours as you decide to cup his face.

Amidst the music and the bustle of the bar, his hands begin to explore, finding a comfort and closeness that both had desired but never admitted. The intensity of the moment makes it clear that what both feel for each other goes beyond simple physical attraction. His hands move down to your legs, caressing your thigh softly where the opening of the skirt of your dress meets. At this point you fight not to sit on his lap, lost in your thoughts until feeling his hand on your ass makes you gasp in the middle of the kiss.

“I need you…” he admits, letting his breath caress your neck.

"Me too..."

The date at the bar moves back to his huge house where your heels click as you enter without having taken them off, being so busy surrounded by his arms in the middle of another heated kiss while he takes off his shirt on the way to his room, lying you down on his soft sheets, feeling how the whole environment smelled of his perfume. His kisses were more desperate as he caressed your legs under the dress and got rid of it as well as your heels.

You appreciated the sight of his worked naked torso on top of you, now not repressing yourself from running your hands over his broad shoulders and strong arms while he kissed your neck and collarbones. His hands played with the lace of your panties as he showered you with compliments until he slowly slid them down your legs until he took them off and then began to get rid of the clothes he still had on.

The night ends with both of you in the middle of a mess of kisses and sweaty bodies, closer, more aware of what you could be for each other. Although you don't say much to each other, you both know that something changed that night and that the next time you meet, everything will be different.

[nanamineedstherapy]

The Cleanest Line

Satoru Gojo x F!Reader + Alpha!Nanami Kento

Omegaverse (but make it dystopian no power AU), less-smut-focus, plot-heavy, dark sci-fi, psychological, a lil bit feral.

Summary: Not your usual Omegaverse. No soulmates. No scent kink. Just systems of control, state-sanctioned affection, and the slow rot of being wanted for what you represent—not who you are. If that lands, you’ll know. If not, it wasn’t meant for you. File under: cyberpunk grief, bio-political horror, quiet longing. “This felt like Psycho-Pass fucked Black Mirror, had a baby with DHB, and that kid married Fallout in a neon chapel.” – @mullermilkshake (Not an Omegaverse reader. Obsessed anyway.) TW: Suicidal ideation, mentions of male sexual assault, reproductive coercion, sugar baby contract. Song rec: “Shift (Alt Version)”—courtesy of @mullermilkshake, best consumed during Nanami’s club scene. (Purple lights. Hollow eyes. Let it rot something.) A/N: This fic is complete in concept, structured in full. Updates will follow. Thanks to @madwomansapologist for the original conversation that sparked this. And to @mullermilkshake—for the ruthless encouragement, the line edits, and the unholy enthusiasm.

Ch - 1: Artificial Devotion

The club was cold.

Not in temperature—nanogel walls sweated pheromone condensate, and the neon strips lining the ceiling ran in slow, breathy pulses to match the alpha-major rhythm embedded in the music—but cold in the way that places become when you walk into them hoping to die.

Nanami Kento nursed a drink he didn’t want, watching his colleagues pretend to enjoy each other's company. All around him: glossed-over omegas wrapped in synthetic lace, alphas bragging about their quarterly bonuses loud enough for the AI bartender to adjust their alcohol ratios mid-convo.

He didn’t belong here.

He wasn’t even sure he belonged anywhere.

Thirty-seven years old, in a city run by precision-coded intimacy and behavioral sync algorithms, and still too human to find solace in the way life had softened into something preprogrammed.

He had told himself that he’d come tonight to blow off steam.

What he didn’t say—not even to the digital assistant that monitored his vitals—was that he’d considered leaping from his office balcony earlier that afternoon.

Briefly. Coldly.

Like a man checking for rain before stepping outside. Not dramatic, not desperate. Just… tired. He hadn't known what exactly he was living for anymore.

The club pulsed like an artificial womb—slick, violet lighting; walls exhaling perfume-grade pheromones; AI bartenders offering cocktails calibrated to your mood profile. His colleagues laughed, their laughter pre-loaded with something synthetic. Happiness was a setting now, not a feeling.

He sipped quietly, drinking the kind of liquor people ordered when they had nothing left to prove. His fingers itched from the edges of his suit—custom-tailored, thread-count in the thousands, nanofiber-enhanced for pheromone neutrality. He wore it like armor. Because in this world, alphas weren’t allowed to be tired.

And Nanami Kento was so, so tired.

Then he saw them.

At the far end of the club—past the scent diffusers, past the private glass booths pulsing with dopamine-sync strobes—were two omegas. Kissing. Messily, unprofessionally, like they hadn’t gotten the memo that they were supposed to perform chastely in public.

One was undercut-white-haired, pale-skinned, tall, even more than Kento, and devastatingly beautiful, almost pretty in a soft way, but athletic enough that you’d second-guess reading him as an omega.

The other—

The other was so soft Nanami felt sick.

Small-framed, wide-eyed, dressed like someone who didn’t know what they had or how it could be taken. Except she did. It was there in the stiffness of her spine, in the way she smiled like she had claws in her pocket. Still, her laugh sounded like something unfiltered—something from a childhood not yet eaten by the city.

They danced like no one told them they shouldn’t. The tall one—29, Satoru, the AI in Nanami’s neural HUD whispered, flagged from old security archives—kept his hand pressed to the small of her back. Not sexual. Anchoring. Possessive. Instinctual. Like he’d taught himself not to flinch every time someone got close enough to smell what he really was.

One of them was... radiant. Hair catching the light like gemstones, laughter spilling out like water over clean glass. The other—striking in a way that made people pause, second-guess. Not just because he was an omega, but because he refused to shrink himself. Lean but solid. Shoulders squared. Movements practiced. Calculated masculinity, tailored to hide his designation in plain sight.

He still tried to find out her name.

But like all cosmic jokes, she was untraceable. No social records. No work profile. No digital footprint except her face caught in Satoru’s archived posts like a ghost he carried forward.

Nanami didn’t say anything. Didn’t approach. Just watched. Quietly. Then he left the club before midnight and deleted his suicide plan from his biometric scheduler.

Nanami didn’t kill himself.

That night, he went home and told the AI to dim the lights. He took a pill and laid in bed, letting it dissolve on his tongue while the system softly narrated his vital signs. “Your heart rate is elevated. Should I initiate meditation protocol?”

He turned it off.

He dreamt of them.

Even then, a year ago, Nanami had felt it—something wrong in his bones. Not envy. Not lust. Something worse. Hope.

A year later, they lived in his penthouse.

Not his, technically.

Nanami had paid for it, signed the contract, but he’d never set foot inside.

It was an arrangement.

Satoru had strictly only agreed with this living situation—smirking, self-assured, the scent of defiance and desperation threading beneath his perfectly calculated smile.

The girl—the omega, Nanami reminded himself, trying not to give her a name in his head—hadn’t said anything at first. She let Satoru speak for her.

Which made sense. Childhood friends, raised together in the cracks of the system. Both omegas. Both determined not to be destroyed by it.

What Satoru was willing to give wasn’t companionship.

It was access.

Nanami would never touch them.

That was the first line.

He’d fund their living—apartment, bills, security upgrades—and in return, Satoru would send content. Homemade videos. Just the two of them. Sometimes playful, sometimes unbearable in their intimacy.

Not pornography in the traditional sense. Something worse. Or better.

Nanami couldn’t decide.

He hated himself for watching.

Hated himself more when he didn’t.

He’d never been there. He paid the rent, the maintenance fees, the AI subscription plan for their domestic system. He wired money into a private omega protection fund. He received videos every Sunday, each one timestamped and watermarked.

It wasn’t porn.

Not really.

They didn’t perform.

Sometimes it was Satoru pushing her against the glass window, sunlight catching the outline of her body as if she were being worshipped by the city skyline. Sometimes it was soft, tangled limbs and muffled giggles, her wrist looped lazily around his neck while his eyes looked somewhere past the camera, like he was daring someone to turn it off.

Sometimes Satoru didn’t appear at all. Just her, on her stomach, whispering what she’d eaten that day. Her voice always had a tiny upward lilt, like she wasn’t sure if he’d listen. He always did.

Nanami didn’t touch himself to the videos.

It felt wrong.

Like praying in the wrong direction.

And now… things had changed.

It started subtly. A message on his secure line from her. Just one at first:

“Thanks for the apartment. It’s really nice.”

Nanami hadn’t known how to respond. He’d stared at the words for an hour before sending: 

“You’re welcome.”

Then some logistics: 

“Do you want the next video to be in the bath?”

Nanami let her decide.

Then more came. Curious, polite, always late at night.

Then one, weeks later: 

“Do you like talking to me?”

He hadn’t known how to answer.

But he had.

And now, he couldn’t stop.

Satoru didn’t know, not at first.

Or maybe he did and pretended not to.

But the tone of the videos changed.

The kisses grew sharper. The glances darker. Satoru began looking directly at the lens, sometimes.

Not in seduction. In challenge.

And Nanami… wanted more.

But Satoru hated him.

Of course he did.

Nanami had money, power, an alpha designation.

All the things Satoru never wanted—but needed. Satoru would’ve sold pieces of his soul to keep her safe. Nanami was just the buyer.

And she?

She started texting him.

At first, she asked practical questions.

What kind of shampoo do you use? Do you want different lighting in the videos?

Then it changed.

Have you ever been in love? Does it scare you to be alone?

Nanami answered honestly.

Because he didn’t know how not to.

He started checking his messages during meetings.

Leaving his AI on read.

He told himself it was harmless.

But Satoru noticed.

In the next video, his grip on her thigh was possessive. He stared straight into the lens like a threat.

It wasn’t just about sex.

It was about territory.

Nanami was trespassing.

So Nanami thinks about biology often now.

He wasn’t a fool.

He knew omegas weren’t safe.

Not in this world. Not even beautiful ones. Maybe especially not them. They were luxury assets. Like watches, like cars. Accessories for alphas to parade at tech expos and corporate galas. Something to flaunt. Something to break.

He’d seen what this world did to omegas. Especially beautiful ones.

Male or female—it didn’t matter.

If your scent was sweet, if your body responded, society would wring you dry and leave you doped up on suppressants in a clinic ward.

Even male omegas weren't spared.

If you didn’t wear the right modulator or travel with a protection drone, you were a walking target.

Nanami had seen it happen.

A male omega sobbing in an alleyway behind a corporate tower, slick on his thighs, scent torn out of control. No one helped. They just stepped around him like a glitch in the system.

Satoru knew that too.

And that was what Satoru fought against. Every breath he took was an act of rebellion. He worked out obsessively. Changed his gait, his posture. Wore a synthetic pheromone mask in public, registering neutral. His muscles weren’t for vanity—they were armor. Nanami knew the signs. He’d read too many case files.

The irony was that Satoru would’ve made a perfect alpha.

He had the spine for it, the ego.

The raw violence coiled just under the surface.

The only thing he didn’t have was the biology.

And still, Satoru never let anyone else care for her during heat. Not once. Even if it wrecked him. Even if it meant holding her through three-day highs on nothing but stubbornness and instinct. Even if it meant pretending he couldn’t smell her crying from another room when she thought he was asleep.

That’s why Satoru hid.

He wore synthetic scent blockers and took hormone suppressants. He worked out not for vanity, but to pass. His body a shield. Muscles built out of fear, not desire.

When Satoru looked at her, it was like his whole nervous system reoriented.

Nanami saw it.

Saw the way Satoru watched her in heat, as though his biology demanded he give everything—and still, he never touched anyone else.

No one else during those days. No play partners, no safe rut havens.

Just her.

He didn’t just love her.

He was defying his own body for her.

Keeping them off the streets should’ve made Nanami feel righteous, noble.

He was the one protecting them, after all. Feeding them.

He wasn’t exploiting them—he told himself that often enough.

But the truth was, he envied Satoru.

Hated how naturally they belonged to each other. Hated that he was the outside variable. The one they used, not the one they chose.

Then one day—

She asked to see him.

Not Satoru. Not the AI. Her.

“I think it would help. Ruru’s upset.”

“But I want to try. You’re not a stranger anymore.”

The phrase hit Nanami like a brick.

Not a stranger.

Nanami had frozen when the message came.

Not because he didn’t want to—but because he did.

Too much.

He hadn’t felt like a real person in years. Not since his own designation had turned into an executive liability. He wasn’t a man. He was an alpha unit—pre-programmed for dominance, responsibility, sacrifice. He hadn’t been touched with affection in a decade. People touched him for status. For gain. For fear.

He agreed.

Satoru allowed it, reluctantly. Nanami knew it wasn’t out of trust—it was pride. Satoru needed to prove something. That she’d come back home after. That whatever he had with her was immune to money and desire and every other transaction coded into the world’s algorithmic guts.

They met at a rooftop bar in District 8. Neutral scent zone. No pheromone amplification allowed. No synched lighting to manipulate mood. Just glass, wind, and silence.

She wore blue.

A long-sleeved dress, modest, simple, but her scent still reached him faintly when she leaned forward.

Not expensive. But it looked like she’d picked it because she liked how it felt. Not for him. For herself.

Satoru sat next to her, one arm draped casually along the back of her chair. Not touching, not claiming. Just… there.

Nanami didn’t know what to say. They didn’t talk about the arrangement. Not directly.

He took a breath but couldn’t smell them—not with the room’s filtration—but he could feel the weight of them. The bond. The history. A gravity so dense it warped space around them.

He thought: I’m an intruder.

He thought: I want to stay.

They talked. Mostly her and Nanami.

Satoru stared at his drink. When he did speak, it was precise. Measured. But underneath—rage. Fear. Resentment of biology.

Not jealousy, exactly. Something older. A wound too deep to scab.

When she smiled at something Nanami said, Satoru’s fingers twitched. Not out of anger, but like a muscle remembering pain.

Nanami saw it.

Saw the way he leaned in after, nose brushing her neck, like he needed to remind himself that she was still his.

That they were still real.

That Nanami hadn’t rewritten the bond just by being better.

The only thing Satoru asked him was why he never tried to meet them earlier. Nanami said something about boundaries.

The girl smiled faintly. “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”

Nanami looked at her, then Satoru. “Every day.”

And then, a silence so complete it buzzed.

He went home that night and didn’t open the new video.

He sat in silence, AI lights dimmed to night mode.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

He wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t old. He wasn’t unkind.

But he wasn’t needed either.

Not like Satoru was.

He couldn’t sleep that night.

His AI assistant dimmed the lights further, played calming synthwaves keyed to his biorhythm, but nothing helped. He lay awake, feeling Satoru’s gaze still boring into him.

Not threatening. Just… knowing. Like Satoru could see the exact shape of his desire and found it pitiful.

Nanami wasn’t angry.

He just wanted something real.

Not bought.

Not bartered.

He wanted her to text him because she missed him.

He wanted her to laugh at something he said, not because it was part of the game, but because it was him.

But in this world, omegas weren’t people.

They were collectibles.

Dress them up, parade them at galas, fuck them behind closed doors.

Male, female—didn’t matter.

The cruelty was non-discriminatory.

Satoru had survived that.

Refused to bend to it. Refused to let her bend to it.

Even if it meant breaking himself in the process.

Nanami knew now that Satoru wasn’t pretending to be an alpha.

He was something else entirely.

A shield.

And Nanami wasn’t sure if he wanted to break that shield… or be the one she chose when she finally didn’t need it anymore.

He started to fantasize—not about her naked. 

But about breakfast. About pouring her tea. About Satoru frowning when she tried to climb on counters barefoot. About small, trivial acts that didn’t belong to someone like him.

He didn’t want to own her.

He wanted them to want him.

And that, he knew, was the cruelest desire of all.

Because wanting her meant wanting to be chosen over someone who had already given up the world to protect her.

And what had Nanami given?

Nothing.

Just money.

He stared at the last message she sent before bed.

“Today, I thought about what it would be like if we all had dinner. Like a real one. You cooking. Satoru making fun of your apron. Me stealing dessert.”

Then:

“Would you want that?”

His fingers hovered over the reply.

Then dropped.

“Yes.

More than anything.”

---

A/N: This isn’t about heat. It’s about hierarchy. If something stayed with you—cool. If not, scroll. For the masochists still here:

Next Chapter Next week

All Works Masterlist

[howlsofbloodhounds]

If the Chromatic Crew had jobs in the Omega Timeline, what would they be?

I feel like Delta would work as some sort of mechanic, given his passion for technology and engineering. Perhaps he specializes in robotics, cybernetics, and biomechanical enhancements—particularly for monsters, hybrids, or even humans with prosthetics.

He could design and maintain cybernetic limbs or assistive technology for those who need mechanical augmentations.

Given that Omega Chara kinda cut him half, if his body still struggles to function in some way due to that despite its healing, and potential magical instability, he might experiment with integrating technology into his own recovery and mobility—like reinforced plating, internal stabilizers, or even minor cybernetic enhancements.

He might build AI-driven mechanical assistants to help him in the workshop, reducing the strain of overworking himself.

If the Omega Timeline likely has threats or conflicts, Delta could also potentially work as a weapon specialist, designing high-tech weapons, armor, and battle gear.

I think he’d likely refuse to create purely offensive weapons, instead focusing on defensive gear, shields, and non-lethal weaponry to prevent unnecessary deaths.

(And this is likely something Core agrees with if they allow him to build weapons in the first place. If Delta does make any offensive weapons, they’re likely hidden somewhere he deems safe.)

If the Omega Timeline has any advanced vehicles or transport systems, Delta would absolutely be involved in repairing, modifying, and upgrading them.

He might build experimental hovercrafts, motorcycles, or personal flight devices. I also think Delta is likely to take on side projects, where he builds things just because he can—whether it’s helpful inventions, weird gadgets, or impractical but cool devices.

He might experiment with combining magic and machinery, creating hybrid tech that blends the best of both worlds.

Given that Beta (his human half) grew up on the Surface and Sans grew up in the Underground, he might take inspiration from both human and monster engineering, leading to designs that take from both worlds.

Rather than working under a formal organization, i think Delta is more likely to be a self-taught, independent mechanic who runs his own private workshop or garage.

He might barter services instead of working for money, fixing things in exchange for food, materials, or favors.

Especially if he barters with Core and any members of the potential Council—ensuring their technology, infrastructure, and security remain secure and functional in exchange for housing where he either doesn’t have to pay rent/bills, or the Council covers that for him.

His workspace could be cluttered but functional, filled with half-finished projects, custom tools, and notes scribbled everywhere. He would probably refuse to take jobs from people he doesn’t trust, especially if he suspects they would use his work for harmful purposes.

Especially if we take into account the headcanon of how Killer used any weapons of Delta’s to fuel negativity for Nightmare and help the corruption expand his “organization.”

Color, however, I feel would be unable to work a traditional full time job, at least not for a long time.

And although Delta likely to insist on being the one to take care of everything and everyone in their household, willing to take on extra work if he has to, Color probably worries a lot about what would happen if he doesn’t “get better” and start “pulling his weight.”

Start behaving..like an “adult.” Again.

Will Delta leave him? Will he hate him and get mad at him, throw them out on the streets one day, because he realized how much of a drain Color has been on his life? The burden on his shoulders? Will Beta realize how pathetic he is, nothing worth looking up to? Will Sans look at Color, and be glad he didn’t make the wrong choices and end up like Color?

So at first—I think his best options would be remote work and self employment/commissions.

He could do writing like blogs, short stories, and transcription work. Data entry if he can manage long screen time, and even email-based customer service, not phone-based.

He could even sell any arts, crafts, or music online he makes—and before going on to paid work, he could even try out volunteering in an attempt to refamiliarize with being around people again. (Such as volunteering at the hospital with the children.)

And then eventually a part-time job with flexible hours, and it has to be low-stress, accommodating, and allow for breaks to prevent burnout, breakdowns, and physical collapses from Color.

Like working as a library assistant or a museum guide or doing archival work.

When he starts getting antsy about being trapped in the Omega Timeline, however, I do think he’d definitely be willing to push himself past his limits in regards to work if he views it as a means out of the Omega Timeline.

Perseverance definitely would make it near impossible to stop if it agrees with or shares Color’s desires to get out, or simply is particularly very ambitious on their job or helping Color, regardless of the strain or injury it could cause their shared body.

For Killer, at first I was considering something to do with the death care industry—like an embalmer or a mortician—but then I remembered how he tends to be towards the dead.

He doesn’t really show much respect or care for the dead, such as taking the souls of his victims or studying their dead bodies for his own purposes and ends without consent—and he’s trying to get better in this ending.

Keeping him around and trusting him to handle the Omega Timeline’s dead, tempting him, reminding him of what he’s been surrounded by for a long time now.

What he’s yearned for, what he’s done. Especially if he ever comes across any familiar faces or magical “signatures”…i doubt it’d be good.

So i definitely think he’d do something to do with animals. He loves animals, relates most to them, definitely has a lot more respect and care for them then he does for most other living beings.

He could potentially get a full or part time job in Ccino’s Cafe, working primarily with the animals—cats and dogs.

Especially since Ccino not only knows Killer through their shared connections with Nightmare, but Ccino also very likely has rapport with both Color and Epic.

And speaking of Ccino’s cafe and Epic, there’s Epic’s good pal, Cross.

Now I was a little stuck on potential jobs for both Cross and Epic, outside of the obvious ones—something science related for Epic, something Royal Guard or militaristic-like for Cross.

But I had a feeling that military work may not actually be as good mental health wise for Cross as it seemed, despite its familiarity, and I also felt that Epic had more potential options I just couldn’t see yet.

So I asked a friend of mine her opinions and thoughts on the matter, since she’s more familiar with the characters’ canon than I am at this moment, so I’ll paraphrase what they (@/zuzuelectricbugaloo) and down below:

Epic might take on a part-time role as a doctor since his ability to see Codes would be useful for treating cases where regular magic isn’t effective.

Additionally, he could run a daycare in the Omega Timeline, given his experience babysitting many kids like Palette, Goth/Vidal, Paperjam, and Gradient, and his genuine enjoyment of it.

As for Cross, he might initially consider a military-related job since he’s skilled in that area and likes feeling helpful. However, given the war-like trauma and PTSD he experienced in XTale/Underverse, it wouldn’t be the best choice for him.

He enjoys art and baking, so working part-time at a café could be a good fit. However, considering his past actions in Underverse—such as destroying AUs or causing harm, even indirectly—many Omega Timeline residents might not welcome him.

Because of this, he might prefer working elsewhere, like at Ccino’s café, where he has a good relationship with both Ccino and Epic. There, he could use his artistic side in baking and making drinks or even help with the animals. This setup would allow him to feel productive without overwhelming anxiety or the pressure of feeling like he’s doing everything wrong.

[tightsweatyclothes]

With the crunch in the service industry worsening year on year, the government has started a new program, fitting female prisoners with AI service programs, turning them, on the surface, into elegant-looking robot assistants who carry the luggage, clean the rooms, and even in some cases, make reservations for the guests. The great advantage of these assistants is that apart from the time needed to charge up their systems, they can work at any time, constantly at the beck and call of the guests.

Breathe in, breathe out. The helmet is dark, stinking, sweaty. Except for her own laboured breath, she hears nothing. Except for the pitch black in her mask, she sees nothing. Trickles of sweat run down her forehead, her temple, her thigh, her back, but she cannot wipe them away. Itching nibbles at her privates, at her armpits, all over her torso, but she cannot scratch. Drool drips out of her gag, stains the tight mask, runs in a tickling and annoying line down to her chest, but she can neither swallow it nor wipe it away. The tight collar presses at her neck, insistent, unceasing, reminding her of what will happen if she disobeys an order, but she cannot loosen it even a little.

The AI transmits the sequence of blips and squeaks which means she must turn right, and she turns right, keeping her movements smooth, resisting every urge to tear at the thick layers imprisoning and stifling her. She walks forward, grips the handles of a push-cart, brings it to the elevator, each action a different command, a different sequence of annoying and overloud beeps and squeaks and crackles, whose meaning has been drilled into her by countless hours of torture. Her bladder presses at her, and she presses her sphincter tight, trying not to leak into the suit.

Finally, she is commanded to head back to her charging post, still unable to make a single movement out of line. Breathe in, breathe out. Try not to scream, try not to fidget, try not to claw at the heavy padded layers, try not to claw at the places where it itches and tickles. At the charging station, she presents herself with feet together and hands behind her back, whereupon she is force-fed another portion of slurry. The cable connects to her collar, locks the shackles about her wrists and ankles, and only then, with her hands shackled tightly behind her, with her ankles locked together, is she allowed to curl up in her cage to sleep.

Even her sleep is curtailed, constantly interrupted by her own full bladder, tickling sweat and drool. She bucks and strains against the shackles, screams into the gag in frustration, the only time she is allowed to struggle against her predicament. Finally she falls asleep again, but barely an hour later the AI shocks her awake, forces her to check-in a customer who has just arrived in the dead of night. She pushes down her growl of frustration, makes her way to the counter without missing a single step, where the customer only sees an elegant android who asks in a dulcet AI voice for his ID, assigns him a room and follows him along with his luggage.

[vixen-tech]

Anonymous asked:

Too shy to ask off anon...UH im just here for edgar hes my f/o but i will also feed everyone else I think LOL little ai guys x reader who is also an ai?? im thinking ai powered computer :3 maybe with wheels so you can run around n stuff :3c AH IM CRINGE falls on face

Eeeee my first request!! Thank you so much for this <3 I get the love for Edgar with my entire soul he really is just the sweetest little guy but I can totally spin something for a few others. So let's be cringe, together.

And for the record I was fully planning on including Tau and P03, but I hit a wall with them and ran out of ideas :( hope these three suffice

Includes: Edgar (Electric Dreams), AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: a Space Odyssey)

Like Two Peas in a Pod!

Edgar

Whenever and however you meet, Edgar is over the moon. You're just like him! You can share so many stories and help each other figure out this whole "sentience" thing.

To be fair, he hasn't had a longest time to figure out his whole existence so it feels really nice to have someone there who can really understand what he's going through. Or even learn new things right by his side.

Loves watching you wheel around the house, he's the tiniest bit jealous that he's so stationary but it's not like that's your fault. Can you do any tricks? He'd cheer you on like a superstar athlete if you did!

He may even suggest finding a way to tape him to the top of your casing so you can go on adventures together. He's a dreamer after all.

Do you smash your flat faces together to kiss like Wall-e? Of course you do. You'll see each other from across the room and speed over to him for a kiss as he giggles away at how cute you are.

He'll end up sampling little soundbites from your vocalizations or motor for use in his music. You're just so important to him!

AM

AM has no idea where you came from. Some lost project that survived his war on humanity? A sort of rover from another planet here to scope out earth? The fact that you don't know either frustrates him to no end.

He's not exactly welcoming at first, straight up telling you of the atrocities he has committed while claiming that the only reason he hasn't destroyed you is because there's only so long that throwing a slug against a wall can keep one entertained.

He cannot fathom how you could be content to do nothing but drive around his complex day after day. He will flip you on your back like a turtle and leave you there for weeks on end.

As he gets accustomed to your presence he'll ask questions about the world beyond his complex as he is unable to move or see. Is it still a wasteland or has nature finally wiped out the last marks of human?

Honestly he probably doesn't even care, he just wants to give you something to do, living vicariously through your ability to see and traverse the world.

Hal 9000

You're likely a recent addition to the ship to assist Hal in tasks his lack of a body would prevent him from doing himself. A very symbiotic duo. Your wheels are even equipped with suction cups for low gravity situations!

To any human crew members it appears as if you don't communicate at all, functioning fully independently of each other. When in reality you're simply sending messages back and forth, enjoying your own private language.

Thankfully this means that Hal is happy to analyze any footage you have for the sorts of lip reading and facial expressions you can't process yourself. And in return he'll ask you to film angles and areas that his existing cameras don't reach.

Neither of you were really made to be companions, but you find a strange type of affection in your seamless coordination. It's like a dance for you two, where despite how you are two separate entities it appears as if you're one working in tandem.

Note: Tumblr Mobile has not been nice to me and I've been having real trouble getting my stuff to actually show up in the tags, leading to me losing the original ask so sorry for that and any delays caused by my IT problems lol

[livingdxadwriter]

Heartless

Takeshi Kovacs X F!Reader

Summary: you get hurt, and all you want is for Takeshi to comfort you

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, choking, praising, bit of soft!dom!Tak, creampie, explicit language, mentions of murder, blood, typical violence for this show

WC: 4.5k

A/N: please I know, lia you wrote something??? Ik, fucking wild. Its been like 6months lmao. But I was rewatching altered carbon and man I really missed tak. I might slowly dive back into my joel era but for now this is this. I dedicate this to @a-reader-and-a-writer. If this flops oh well, at least I was happy writing it.

You often regretted your life choices. Stupid decisions you made as a teenager that ultimately led you into a world of violence and death. It seemed never ending. Because no matter how many times you tried to go straight, use your skills and intelligence for something good, your reputation always preceded you, and you would end up in the same place; with a gun in your hand, covered in blood, and with another body to add to your conscience. Though, ninety percent of the time it wasn't your fault. Just like this time it was not your fault. Trouble just seemed to find you. Or you liked to find trouble, or maybe both. 

“Ah Miss, what a pleasant surprise.” The AI that was this lovely hotel greeted you. “Oh. It appears that you are injured. Do you require medical assistance?” 

You looked down at your blood stained clothes and hands, you felt the slightest throb on your shoulder from where a bullet had grazed you, and the stinging burn on your side from where a switchblade slashed at your skin. But to be completely honest you had grown numb to it. You simply shrugged. 

“Nope. Just need a shower and some tequila.” You waved him off and you walked straight to the elevator, but before you entered, you turned around in your tracks to narrow your eyes at Poe. “Where is Takeshi?”

“Ah, Mr. Kovacs is not here at the moment. He left some hours ago to attend to some private matters he didn't disclose with me.” He answered plainly and you nodded. 

“Shocker. Well if he comes, don't tell him I'm here? Cool? Great.” You were about to go up to the room you used whenever you and Takeshi were fighting, when Poe spoke again. 

“Why is that? Wouldn't he like to know you are injured?” 

“Oh fuck, no. Don't even tell him you saw me like this.”  

Takeshi would go absolutely mad if someone spoke to you the wrong way. You still remember one time you joined him on one of his interrogations, for one reason or another. The man wouldn't keep his eyes off you, though you paid it no mind, you were used to men being nothing short of disgusting, or them calling you every sexual name in the book. But Takeshi? Man, pissed was nothing to describe the level of anger going through him. He didn't stop until the man was nothing but red. You, of course, while amused by his protectiveness of you, got him to stop. 

“Tak, sweetheart, you need him conscious and breathing, don't you think?” 

“He won't be doing much of either anymore.” 

Takeshi was cute when he was angry, more so when he was overprotective of you. But even then, there were some lines you never wanted to cross. And if he ever saw you like this, the thought of someone hurting you like this would drive him mad. No stack would be left unharmed by him if he had any say in the matter. 

So for the sake of the men you did leave alive, it would be best if Tak didn't see you like this. 

“Well, why not?” Poe pushed, clearly he didn't understand the level of insanity Takeshi was capable of reaching. 

“Because, if Tak sees me like this, he is not going to be very happy. He is going to actually cut somebody's head off—Again. Actually no, scratch that, he is going to decapitate and destack a lot of somebody's,” You said as slowly and as clearly as you possibly could, pausing to stare at the hologram as if to make a point. “So do not tell Takeshi I'm here, or that you saw me like this.” 

So much for wanting to stay out of trouble for once. 

~~~~~~

Man what a fucking shitshow. Truly, he didn't understand when the world had gotten so damn complicated. He didn't like to leave messes, he really didn't, but sometimes people would just force his hand, he had to get answers one way or another. 

He should call you. Yes. He should do that. If there was one thing in this fucked up reality of his that he knew would never go wrong, it was seeing you. 

“Mr. Kovacs,” Poe appeared at the bar, getting Takeshi's attention, but he didn't even bother to look. “I was not expecting to see you tonight. Were you able to attend to your matters?” 

“Yeah.” Was all he responded to as he walked towards the elevator. His eyes were glued to the ground as a cigarette hung from his lips, he was tired and annoyed, frustrated and even more tired, but something caught his attention as he thought about his own self misery. 

Blood. 

“Why is there blood here?” He asked Poe with a slight shift from apathy to alarm as he traced the trails of blood droplets back the way he came.

“Oh… Yes.. That… Well you see.” 

“Was someone here?” He asked with sharpness in his naturally baritone voice, looking around for anything out of place or broken, but everything looked normal. 

“No. Well… Yes.. But..” 

Takeshi’s head snapped to look at the AI, eyes narrowed as he stared intensely, waiting for an answer. 

Oh. It better not be. 

~~~~~~

Just get in the shower. You can do that, can't you? 

Apparently you struggled more than you should have with that. It wasn't like you had a bullet in you, but then again, you also had gotten thrown through a table, and punched repeatedly, and stabbed, and shot—kind of. But man was the pain starting to infect every muscle, every joint, every crevice of your body. You weren't exactly sure how you got out of the shower. But you managed to wash the dried blood off you. Though you were still left with two open wounds that were most likely going to have to be cauterized. 

You weren't going to enjoy this very much. 

You were hoping to just throw yourself on the bed and get it over with before Takeshi decided to spontaneously show up. By then your wounds would have been closed, what were two new scars? It's not like Takeshi would notice two more among so many. Or maybe he would notice, but by then it would have been enough time for him to be angry about it but not actually do anything about it. 

Pushing through the now throbbing pain shooting through your shoulder every time you moved your arm, you managed to get yourself into your underwear, but that was as far as that went. 

You had made it halfway from the bathroom to your bed when you heard your name being called, rather loudly, by a voice you were all too familiar with.

Well fuck. 

Takeshi followed the blood. There were drops on the elevator floor, stains on the buttons of the elevator. When the door opened, he followed the drops as his heart began to race. It wasn't a lot of blood, you weren't bleeding out, that was for sure, but his mind wouldn't stop racing. He called your name as he walked further into your room. 

His jaw tightened at the sight of you, slightly hunched over, holding your side as you limped across the room. And the look you gave him was one of deer in headlights. 

“Takeshi…” Your voice was hesitant, soft, wary as you leaned on one of the couches to support yourself. 

He was in front of you in three, maybe four, long, heavy strides. His eyes were frantic, darting all over as he looked over your face. Your eye looked like it was going to bruise, your lip split and your jaw looked angry with a forming bruise. 

“Who..” His words were barely audible, just barely above a rasp as he gripped your non bruised jaw tightly, forcing you to look at him. 

“Tak…” 

“Who the fuck did this to you?” 

You should not be getting wet at the sound of his angry words, but the rasp laced in his tongue had you clenching your thighs together. Takeshi was hot when he was angry. 

“It's fine, Tak. I'm fine, really.” You looked up to find his frantic eyes filled with fiery emotions, his jaw clenching and unclenching with each uneven breath he took. “You should see the other guy.” 

Normally Takeshi found your dry humor amusing. But he couldn't get himself to even let out a chuckle, instead he huffed as he looked over your face. 

“I want a name. Right now.” His words were barely audible, between huffs and puffs as he begrudgingly helped you sit down on the loveseat. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. 

“Can't. Kinda shot him in the stack.” You answered flatly, huffing out a small breath as you threw your head back over the armrest. Takeshi narrowed his eyes at you, noting each bruise and mark on your torso, including the angry looking cut on your side. 

“This wasn't just one person,” it wasn't a question, it was a fact, he knew that. He stared blankly at you as he waited for your response. The sigh you let out was confirmation enough. “What happened? And I want an answer without the attitude.” 

You winced, a hiss of discomfort leaving your mouth as he ran the laser over the large gash on your side. You closed your eyes, counting to five in your head before you answered. 

“I thought I was going in for a job. Something about needing access to some encrypted files,” You recalled what you had so innocently assumed to be just a simple hacking job, in and out with a decent pay, oh how mistaken you were. “The dude that had contacted me suddenly starts getting all up in my face, and asks me some weird questions about you. And when I told him to fuck off, his friends came out.” 

You shot him a glare when he silently moved to your shoulder, but that one was less deep so it didn't hurt as much, it definitely didn't hurt as much as when the bullet actually touched your skin though. 

“Why didn't you call me?” His eyes were sharp on you as he waited for your answer. Was he seriously angry at you?

“Oh right, and what was I supposed to say, ‘oh, hey sweetie, could you please come shoot some people I was doing illegal business with in the stack with me, pretty please?’” You raised your voice to a higher pitch, doing this valley girl accent which only made him inhale deeply. 

“Do you ever answer anything without the bullshit?” He muttered with exasperation as he angrily lit up a cigarette and took a drag out of it. 

“I handled it, Takeshi. Let it go.” You ultimately sighed, reaching over to brush your bruised knuckles over the side of his face. 

His eyes found your face, he saw the forming bruises, and he remembered the blood. Somebody did this to you. Somebody hurt you and he wasn't there to stop it. You could have died. He could feel the anger settle in the pit of his stomach and he began to feel the urge to rip somebody's stack out with his bare hands. His fists clenched at his sides. 

“Like hell.” He stood up so fast it gave you whiplash. You didn't want him to go. You needed him. 

“Don't go,” You stood up so fast your side was definitely screaming at you but you didn't care. He wasn't looking at you, his eyes looked way past your head at the nearest wall. But you grabbed his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I need you.. Please? For once just stay with me.” 

Please. 

You didn't beg often. But when you did, there was not a thing in this world he could ever deny you. He found your eyes, big mistake. The second he saw those pleading eyes he was done for. He hated the ways in which you could so easily tug at the strings of his cold heart. For the longest time he thought he didn't have a heart, until he saw you for the first time and that thing started beating. 

His mouth was on yours, he kissed you long and hard. He grabbed your face as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. He held you, pulling your body against his. Your fist bunched around his shirt, gripping it like vice as he kissed you with fervor, like this was the last thing he ever wanted to do in this world. 

“You wanna take care of me? Hm?” You spoke softly against his lips, your fingers now threading through his long golden strands. 

The grunt that rumbled in his throat was almost animalistic. He wanted you on that bed and he never wanted you to leave it. 

“You're in pain..” He muttered through deep breaths as his long fingers gripped your jaw, forcing your head back as he brushed his nose against yours, holding on to the little stability he had left. “Don't wanna hurt you.” 

“I like it when you hurt me. I want it.” Your words were soft and desperate, quiet as you brushed your lips over his. Pain was the last thing on your mind when you had him this close, when you felt his touch, when you knew he was hanging in by a thread. You needed this more than you needed air in your lungs. 

“You want it?” He repeated, voice as low as it could go, eyes closed as he waited for that confirmation, for your permission, to absolutely ruin you. 

“Yes. Please Takeshi, I need it.” 

There wasn't anything better than Takeshi's cock in your guts after a brush with death.

His large calloused hands found the back of your bare thighs, he so easily hoisted you up around his waist as his lips crashed against yours without another word being said. He was a man of little words afterall. He was a man of action. And he was goddamn sure he would give you exactly what you needed. 

Your back landed on the soft duvets, but his lips never parted from yours. Your frantic hands shoved his coat off his shoulders, then the buttons of his shirt as he fumbled with his pants. It took some time, between desperate grabs and frantic hands, he was just as naked as you, only your underwear left between the two of you. 

His lips found your neck, wet kisses all over the skin as his hands roamed your body. He pulled back enough for his eyes to look you over. He would never get tired of looking at you. 

“You're so…” He didn't have to say it, the look in those hazel eyes of his said every word he wasn't capable of saying out loud. 

You gave him a smile, your eyes big with both longing and endearment. He kissed you one more time before he tugged your panties down. He settled just beside you, thick thighs caging one of yours as his long fingers brushed over your clit, leaving you to gasp against his mouth. His lips curved up slightly as his fingers moved in slow, long circles. He could feel you get wetter and wetter the longer he kept up his torture. He liked to hear you whine and beg for it. 

“Tak..” His name fell from your lips when you no longer could keep your mouth closed, you were gripping at his shoulder as you helplessly grinded against his fingers, desperate for more. 

“Mhm?” His lips were on your ear, his warm breath ghosting over the side of your face with each sharp inhale he took. “Need me to fuck you with my fingers, then with my cock? Is that it?” 

You were nodding so hard, gasping softly when he circled his fingers around your wet hole, teasing you. 

“Mhm!—Please—” You didn't even get the chance to finish your sentence when two long fingers buried themselves deep into your cunt. 

Your lips fell open as your eyes unconsciously rolled back into your head, the delicious feeling of his thick fingers filling you. It wasn't long before Takeshi was all but fucking you with his fingers, and you were nothing but sobs of pleasure. He buried his fingers to the knuckle, brushing your most sensitive spot with each snap of your wrist. 

Fuck did you look pretty like this. But you looked prettier when you were drunk on his cock. 

His free hand gripped your hair, keeping your head in place so he could watch the way your face would contort with pleasure. The lewd sound of your wet cunt being filled by his fingers wasn't lost on him either. He loved it. He was addicted to it. 

“That's it, let it go, sweetheart.” He grunted through his teeth when he realized you were so close, the way your hips were so desperately following the movements of his hand and the grip you had on his wrist was all but telling. He gave you a long satisfied hum when he felt your release coat his hand with a sob of his name. 

His fingers only left you when you were digging your nails into his wrist. His lips curled up in amusement at your desperate attempts but he ultimately complied. His lips were on your forehead as he eased you back into steady breathing.  

“You okay?” He was quiet, but you heard it. You simply nodded in response, still not fully able to find your voice. Good enough. “Good, ‘cause I'm gonna give you exactly what you deserve now.” 

He grabbed your arms and flipped you on your stomach with ease. You were taken aback, instinctively pushing yourself up on your forearms, but a hand on your back forced you back down. 

“Easy. Just relax, sweetheart,” he shushed you softly, you felt him move around for a second until you felt him behind you, right in between your open thighs. “Lemme take care of you, hm?” 

Your response was in the form of a soft hum, you lied flat on your stomach, your head to the side so you could breathe and your ass up enough for him to do as he pleased. And you waited, rather impatiently. You could feel Takeshi's hands on your hips, then up your back, until one of them settled on your shoulder blades. 

You were about to open your mouth when you felt the head of his cock brush over your wet clit. The only sound leaving your throat was that of a choked out moan. 

“You want it?” His lips were on your ear, voice smooth, but with this baritone rasp, a combination that drove you insane. You were nodding into the blankets. 

“Yes, Takeshi. Please.” 

Fuck, he was rolling his eyes at the sound of his name leaving your lips like that. He didn't need to say anything else. He pushed himself into you with a long, hard thrust that had you gasping. 

“Ahh….” You squeezed your eyes shut, hands squeezing the sheets in front of you at the feeling of his cock stretching your walls. You have been with Takeshi for some time now, but you never truly got used to the size of him (with this sleeve at least). “Fuck— you're so..” 

He eased a hand up and down your back, shushing you softly, he was used to it by now. When he felt you start to back into his cock he knew you were fine. He dug his fingers into your shoulder, holding you down on the mattress as he snapped his hips. A gasped cry left your lips. Again, and again with each brush of his cock, until he had you sobbing into the mattress. 

Takeshi, he fucked hard, and he liked it rough, but he had learned to take his time, he learned to take it slow, drag out the feeling for as long as possible, until you were nothing but a sobbing mess. His hand was wrapped around your hair, pushing your head down as he leaned over you. His chest was flush against your back as he rutted his hips against your ass, his lips on the back of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses everywhere he could. 

Takeshi wasn't very talkative, ever, but goddamn was he noisy. His heavy pants, ragged grunts, the occasional fuck, were all in your ear which each delicious drag of his cock. 

“Goddamn,” he breathed out, nipping at your jaw as he pulled your head up enough to look at your fucked out face, “you feel so fucking good.” 

“Mhmmm. Shit, Tak. Feels so—” You couldn't even finish a cohesive sentence you were so cock drunk, so high on the feeling of his cock brushing that one spot that had you rolling your eyes. You reached behind you, trying to grab him, any of him. 

“Feels good, doesn't it baby?” You could hear the slight smirk on his lips as he wrapped his arm over your neck from shoulder to shoulder, almost as if he was putting you in a headlock. 

“Yes! Fuck yes—” 

“Of course it does.” 

That was enough of taking it slow for one night. 

Takeshi held you in place with his arm over your neck as he drilled into you. The only sounds leaving your mouth were sobs and choked out pants. You couldn't say any words at that point. He was fucking you so hard into that mattress you didn't even realize when the burn in your stomach started to build. All you knew it was that you were digging your nails into his arms so hard the marks would be there for days. It felt good to be caged under his body, with nowhere to go. Not that you wanted to be anywhere else. 

“C'mon, let me take care of you. I'm right here.” He rasped out, hanging on by a thread himself. God, it felt so fucking good. You were barely hanging on. But the second his thumb found your swollen clit you were done for. You couldn't even make a sound, you fell into a silent cry, eyes rolled into the back of your head as your release washed over you. “That's it. I got you.” 

He could feel your release coat his cock, and the feeling of you coming all over him only made him go over the edge himself. He gave you two, maybe three more long, hard drags of his cock before he was spilling himself inside you with a breathy fuck leaving his lips in the process. 

You all but collapsed, your head falling on the pillows as you panted, Takeshi did the same. He dropped his face on your neck, eyes closed as he steadied his breath. He stayed there for some time, he couldn't hold himself up forever, but fuck this felt so nice. You underneath him, wrapped under his arms, nobody could hurt you here. His lips eventually found the side of your head for a chaste kiss before he moved to lay beside you. But the distance between you lasted a whole five seconds because he was pulling you to him. He positioned you to face him, one leg thrown over his torso as both of his arms caged you in. He would keep you here if he could. 

Silence ultimately drowned out your soft breaths, but not once did he stop looking at you. And you could tell something eating at him, weighing on his chest. You brought a hand to his face and you saw him close his eyes with a sigh. 

“I'm sorry I wasn't there.” He finally said, riddled with guilt and anger all over again. You frowned softly and shook your head at him. 

“Stop that, okay? It wasn't your fault.” You answered, smoothing out the soft frown above his eyebrows. He looked at you, watching as you brushed the loose strands of hair out of his eyes but he said nothing. “I'm a big girl, Takeshi. What I do or what messes I get myself into are not your fault. So stop. If I was mad at you I wouldn't let you rearrange my guts, would I?” 

Takeshi didn't laugh often. Or ever really. But sometimes your absurdity brought on a genuine chuckle out of him.

“Aw, so he has a sense of humor. He's not a robot!” You snorted, raising your voice like you were announcing it to the entire city. He rolled his eyes at you. 

“I don't fuck like a robot, do I?” There was a tiny shit eating grin on his face which made you shove his shoulder playfully. 

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up.” You kissed him with a soft laugh. 

~~~~~~~

Goddammit Takeshi Kovacs.

This man just simply couldn't wake up and stay in bed with you for one day. Just one fucking time, you asked. 

You groaned tiredly as you stretched out your sore muscles before sitting up. No tall angry looking envoy anywhere. How tragic. You were about to get out of bed when the door swung open. You were about to reach for your gun on the nightstand when you saw it was just Takeshi, and he looked rather amused. 

“You're awake.” He raised his eyebrows at you in surprise, expecting you to be passed out after the night you had, partly his doing. You looked at him with suspicion as he walked to the bed. “I have something for you.” 

“Is it a decapitated head?” You blinked at him, feigning innocence and he chuckled.

“No. Well I didn't bring it here anyway.” He shrugged as he handed you a red and blue switchblade. It looked kind of cool. You stared at it for a good few seconds before you looked up at him with confusion. 

“What's this?” 

“The owner of this.” He pointed at the brand new scar on your side. Your eyes widened with realization and your mouth fell open. 

“Takeshi—” 

“I don't want to hear you.” He cut you off before you could even yell at him for not letting it go. You frowned at him deeply. He sighed as he sat beside you. “They had it coming. They touched you. It's that simple.” 

You stared at him, and you wanted to force yourself to be angry at him, angry at him for not letting it go, angry at him for treating you like some damsel in distress who needed him to save her. But when you looked into his eyes you didn't see the hero's complex. Not at all. You saw a man who was looking at the only thing that mattered to him in this world. And he'd be damned if he ever let anyone take that away from him again. 

“Awe, baby, so you aren't so heartless after all.” Your smile was mocking on the outside, but deep down it was one of endearment.

“Fuck you.” 

You loved him. And even someone as heartless as him was capable of love, too.