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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Yet Another Nanami Kento Sex Pollen Fic, Part Two

The reader encounters an aphrodisiac diffusing Curse...which she brings home to Nanami Kento.

Read Part 1 first HERE!

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When you had looked up through the billowing steam of your shower, and seen Kento's broad figure filling the doorway, your conscious thought had juddered to a halt, and you became all compulsion and instinct.

Nanami Kento stood, his weight shifted slightly forward on one leg, as one hand reached up to grab the doorframe, and the other squeezed his cock, which was hardening rapidly under his hand. He was exactly as you had left him; shirt splayed open with all the buttons ripped off, and trousers shunted down at the front, clinging to the jut of his hipbones, trail of honey-coloured hair pathing the way to his hand, which was stroking himself so keenly.

I suppose he didn't think to leave my clothes alone, you thought, but...I owe him.

You met Kento's eyes and tried to read him as your mind stuttered, and your heart leapt into your mouth as Kento crossed the room in three long strides. As you grasped the shower door and began to open it, the glass banged and rattled as Kento's shaking hand gripped it and slammed it closed.

"...Kento? It's okay, I know how it feels. Come on, I can he--"

"No," he spat. Kento held the door closed, but his hand was quaking, at war with itself. You felt your heart pound as noticed his other hand, gripping his throbbing length, the tip now an angry red-purple.

"I don't want to hurt you," Kento forced, "This is...different. I could stop you, but you...you couldn't stop me...if you wanted to."

Your heart clenched for him. You knew the desperate need he was experiencing, and he had helped you. But, as you took him in, ostensibly huge, all raised planes of muscle over strong bones, you knew he was right. But still--

"I trust you, Kento. I know you wouldn't hurt me." Kento looked at you darkly, hungry and wolfish, teeth bared.

"I wouldn't be so sure," he pressed, and the way his eyes lingered on your body, naked breasts heaving and wet under the steam, Kento thought of breaking you underneath him, the effects of the pollen having made your wellbeing completely second to his need, he felt like he'd surely die unless he used your body to relieve his own.

Forcing himself to look away from you as you pressed your hands against the glass, looking at him with such tender concern that he could have wept, Kento felt every thread of his nervous system on fire.

With a sinking nausea as Kento felt this...this...substance working through his synapses, his body and brain were getting hotter and hotter and his grasp on rational thought and decision-making were reducing. His brain was no longer working. He panted, hand letting go of his cock to run through his hair. Kento shivered at how erotic his simple touches to himself felt. After tugging his hair sharply at the roots, nearly groaning aloud with the pleasure, Kento's fingers trailed to his lips, ducking two fingers past them to suck on his own fingertips. He moaned around them, and you watched him, fascinated and terrified at how animalistic Kento had become.

His skin felt too tight, every sense piqued, and his hand on the shower door shook harder as he heard you switch the water off; as if detached from the rest of his body, this hand squeezed the door closed, but his other hand pressed, with his forehead, feverishly against the glass as he stared you down. Looking into his eyes, you saw less and less Kento there as he struggled to contain himself. Kento breathed out shakily.

"I'm going to open the door," he spoke, each word pained and deliberate, "and you're going to run, and lock yourself in our room. Are you ready?" You stared at Kento, speechless.

"Are you ready?" he barked and you jolted, nodding frantically. His white knuckled hand swung the door open and you leapt past him, rounding the corner as you ran to your bedroom, hearing quick footsteps approaching behind you and you got inside the room, slammed the door and locked it--

A fist banged on the outside of the door as Kento roared, and you fell back onto the bed, still drenched, hair dripping down your back (or is it cold sweat?). You heard footsteps, flat, heavy and pacing.

Kento ran his fingernails up and down the back of his head and neck, pacing furiously, ashamed of how quickly he nearly hunted you down after he had let you out of the shower. Reaching down, lifting his legs one by one, he wrenched his slippers off and lobbed them across the room where they bounced meekly off the high windows. Throwing his shirt and trousers to the sofa, he sat hard on the floor with his back to your door, face in his hands as he genuinely worried he may die from the heat and desire pooling in his stomach and coiling outwards through him.

Kento's cock sat, heavy and throbbing against his belly, pressed upwards by the waistband of his boxers. The hair on his stomach was wet with pre-cum. Pushing his boxers fully down, with one arm draped over his eyes, Kento began to stroke himself, squeezing hard, desperate and chasing relief.

She felt better after she came, he thought, panting as his hand stroked fast, wet strokes from tip to base, she felt better, you will too. Kento continued to work on himself, feeling tears prick in his eyes and growling when he felt absolutely no relief.

On the other side of the door, you tentatively knocked. "Kento?" You heard a low groan in response. "Look, I...I know you're trying to keep me safe, which I love, but...I know you're going to need something other than your own hand."

Silence. You continued, "So, you can come in here and I promise I can take it, or we can call Shoko?"

"We are absolutely not calling Shoko about this," Kento forced, low and angry. Your lower belly twisted, and you knew you needed to force Kento's hand. He needed this. He needed you.

"Or, I could just..." you started, sounding braver than you felt, leaning your back against the wall beside the door, "touch myself, and you can cum in your hand to the thought of me."

Kento was revealing in his silence. You continued, moaning softly as your fingers began to rub small circles around your clit, and you heard a heavy weight shift against the door. "I'm wet," you gasped softly, "you'd barely need to do anything, just hold me down and sink straight into me." Kento growled on the other side of the door.

"Stop it," he barked, "I'm warning you."

"I can take it," you pressed, continuing to pleasure yourself, moaning sweetly, folds wet and glistening now, "Please come and fuck me...daddy."

The door flew inwards off its hinges with a bang, wood splintered, and you squealed as Kento reached around the doorway and gripped you hard by the throat. Using his other hand to strip his boxers completely away, he pulled you nose to nose by the throat, your tiptoes scraping against the floor as you gasped, lightheaded.

"You can take it, can you?" he rumbled, pupils blown with lust, his cock hard against your belly. Pressing a hard kiss, all teeth and tongue, to your mouth, he threw you onto your bed where you bounced, face down, "Let's see, shall we?"

You squealed again as Kento grabbed you by the waist and threw you up the bed. Lifting your face from the pillows, you moved to turn to Kento, "I'm sorry, I just--" You were cut off with a cry as Kento grabbed your hair by the roots, forcing your face forwards. Kento began to position you like a mannequin, pressing your tummy down and your arse up, and finally grabbing both of your hands where he made your fingers clasp to the headboard of the bed. Stretched and quaking, you felt Kento's hands grip you firmly by the hips.

"Hold onto something," he growled, before bottoming out inside your dripping pussy in one sharp thrust. You cried out, hips trying to scoot forwards up the bed as you adjusted to his size, seeming bigger than usual with how thick and aroused the pollen had made him; Kento slapped the side of your thigh hard and you squeaked, the pleasure sharp and bitter.

Kento slapped your sex back onto his cock one, two, three times and came with a shout, the orgasm bursting along his skin, his moaning a ragged, injured sound. Time stood still as he poured cum into you, feeling it drip down his balls and your thighs, carrying on and on until his moans turned to low pants, continuing to thrust slowly into you.

Kento waited for the desperate clawing at the back of his neck, the itching at the base of his brain, to pass...his stomach swooped, like falling at the start of a dream, to recognise that he felt no better. Furious, devastated, Kento grasped you by the hair to pull you upright, his chest feeling like a brick wall against your back, as his cock remained throbbing and hard inside you. Still holding you by the hair, he tipped your head sideways, biting deeply into the soft skin above your pulse point.

Kento felt sickly delighted to feel you shaking in his arms, and thrust upwards into you, cock gliding effortlessly along the tight wet slick of your pussy. His tongue and teeth ghosted along the shell of your ear, and he whispered low and dangerous, as he splayed his huge, fine-boned hand across your lower belly.

"How deep am I?" He thrust again, harder, letting go of your hair as your head fell back against his shoulder. You squeaked as his knees batted yours aside, forcing you to fall deeper around his lap. "Can I get any deeper?" His freed hand gripped the side of your hips, pressing you down onto him. You gasped, mewling and writhing as you felt his cock bully against your cervix, and as he pressed your belly inwards and downwards, you twisted, squeaking as you saw stars, both hands reaching back to clasp desperately round the back of Kento's neck.

Kento buried his nose into you, sniffing deeply. "Are you ovulating?" he intoned, continuing his relentless assault on your limp body as he lifted you, pressing you up and down slowly and deliberately, stretching you, as you felt that if he went any deeper he'd surely thrust past your cervix and into your womb. You almost sobbed, voice muffling as his hand left your hips and clasped over your lower face, shushing you, almost tenderly.

"I know you are...I can smell it," he groaned, slamming you down hard, enjoying your hot little breaths behind his huge hand, "It's...delicious." You wanted to tell him how close to finishing you were, but were totally voiceless with his hand over your mouth. Your pussy fluttered tellingly around him, and Kento chuckled.

"Don't worry, you'll get your turn. Shit, this stuff is...it's..." Kento felt the urgent need to orgasm begin to burn through him again, and he rumbled his displeasure, throwing you back onto the bed and flipping you, overwhelmed by the urge to breed you, and keep you home so he could fuck you all day if he wanted to.

Pressing your knees up to your chest, your face burned with pleasure and pain as Kento slammed into you again, his hips snapping wetly against yours at a relentless pace. He grabbed your hands and brought them around your knees, forcing you to hold your legs in place as he lifted your arse off the bed, dragging your pussy back and forth along his cock on time with his thrusts.

A dam broke inside you, feeling Kento so deeply that it felt like he owned your whole body, and you came with a sob, wounded by the pleasure as you trembled, completely used as Kento continued to drag himself in and out of you, soft splatters of his and your cum dripping into the bed every time he thrust into you.

Kento chased his high, needing release or he'd surely perish, and he revelled in the tight squeeze of your plush walls around him, grunting and moaning unashamedly as you squirmed, babbling his name, which could be another language as far as Kento was concerned as his brain sank into the primal urge to keep cumming inside you until you were round and beautiful, full of him. The thought spurred him on, and he leaned over you, caging you in with his arms, your thighs crunched against your abdomen, and Kento took your nipple between his teeth, whining around you.

You grasped the back of his head, pressing it into your breast, feeling his pubic bone slam against your clit, your second orgasm hypersensitive and painful, your hands shaking as they tugged Kento's hair, your lips trembling with easy praise for him.

Kento tasted the bitter tang of blood and metal along the sides of his tongue as he came again, his skin electric, and dying stars in his eyes, and growled a bestial growl of relief as he began to feel the itching desire ebb away, finally satiated.

Pulling out of you, he looked down at the mess between your legs, puffy folds covered in a pinkish mix of blood and semen, and Kento groaned into his hand.

"I'm so...I'm so sorry," he panted, shaking and exhausted, reaching up to stroke your forehead, pulling your arm from over your face. You smiled weakly at him, bruised, aching and completely spent.

"It's okay," you reassured him, stroking his abs softly, in small circles, "but we really should get rid of those clothes. And have a bath." Kento nodded, swiping his sweaty hair back off his head. He glanced behind him, blushing faintly.

"And...fix that door."

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Would it have been sexier if he'd kept the slippers on? Uncertain.

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justblades · 2 years ago

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⌕ FLIMSY FEELINGS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : blade x afab! reader WC : 1.4k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. dubcon, somno, voyeur! blade, oral (fem receiving), sadistic masochistic themes, mutual masturb#tion, cunnilingus

⟢ A/N : we don't have much info abt his character rn but i tried my best with the available provided info as of the moment !! enjoy <3

raven hair ripples from the bitter cold winds blowing, the glint of crisp solferino hues show a reflection of an unknown person - someone the stellaron hunters just happened to pick up as they tread upon weaving the threads of fate, just how the screen play director foretold.

it was just blade and you alone, encompassed by the archaic, gunmetal gray walls. blade watches your slumbering figure as he wears a solemn face, lips pressed into a thin line, not showing any kind of expression at all except for a stoic mask.

is it really a mask? no one could tell. blade just proceeds to stride towards your body, feeling an aching sensation he needed to tend to. it's a feeling he'd come to despise - but it's still a part of his bodily function. even though he abandoned his old way of living and is now in a pursuit of his path to vengeance, there are trivial things he must fulfill at once.

blade slowly descends to your position, vision still not anchoring away from your dozing shape. humans truly are fragile, he thought to himself— to see someone in their vulnerable state, it feels quite intimate. it was an epiphany blade had for a long time ago he forgot when, but all he knows right now is there's just one thing that must be done.

he feels his pants grow tighter by the minute, the flickering light bulb casts a darker shade of monochrome gray on the crotch part. the navy haired doesn't delay any further and proceeds to get it done. blade unbuckles his belt swiftly, letting the item crash against the concrete flooring; followed suit is an act of self pleasure, he gradually wraps his dominant around his throbbing girth, reveling the wamrth he had to offer to himself in dead silence.

the stellaron hunter may not show it but gratification already courses through his system. at a slow pace, he continues to lean more towards your figure, his cock now at its full glory. its head twitches, itching for a sensation for it to be enveloped in; something warm, something tight and something alive. three qualifications that his mere hands could not satisfy.

perhaps that was your sole purpose for you being brought here in the stellaron hunters' temporary hideout. he rips your clothes with one clean cut from the cracked sword he brandishes, one of the many ways he showcases his astonishing swordsmanship. steadily positioning himself from your slit, a hot, rock hard feeling rubs on your lower lips.

blade's heart begins to pulsate against his rib cage, each beat becoming louder and faster in such an irregular manner. the more he got to feel your slippery cunt, the more eager he only got. and with one powerful thrust, he successfully makes his entrance inside you, his cock lavishing the comfort of your velvet walls clamping around his length.

he huffs a deep breath and only realizes it late as he catches a quick whiff of your scent— for some reason, he was drawn on. the male inches forward your neck, his hands tightly clasped on yours to make sure there would be no attempt of escape. presently atop you while you laid on your stomach, you could feel some faint but added pressure on your limbs plus a somewhat familiar presence from above.

blade was only detached from what you were feeling and only carried on with his own intentions. he rams inside you with no forewarnings, his tip fills you all the way up to the very brim. a breathy, whiny moan erupts in the vicinity that undoubtedly came from you but he heeds no mind to it— continuing to pound into your walls, intruding with such an abrupt pace and not in gradual motions.

in anything that he does, he emanates of destruction. a polar opposite of care, tenderness and love; it shows in his rough, vertiginious thrusts, his firm tight touch, and lastly, in his facial expression. you were not one bit shocked, if anything, you just accepted what is happening as of the present. being used as a cocksleeve for a passing feeling, it rips at your heartstrings but you were powerless before him.

you continued to pretend as if you were still dozing off in spite the mewl that you tried so hard to bite back, stifling more noises threatening to slip out. it would be far more awkward if you're awake as you weren't one bit acquainted with blade. not even shared glances, all the information you have is an overheard conversation from the hunters, only knowing his sole name : blade.

the swordsman eventually begins to drop his guard down, becoming more lax at letting his guttural groans come undone from his mouth. his bandaged hand wanders on your naked, exposed skin, traveling to places where he finds the most appealing. aside from the sound of skin slapping, clothes shifting and his jagged breathing were accompanied by the chime of his dangling scarlet earring.

a sharp pang of pain follows from a loud smack sound. it was his slender hand coming into harsh contact against the plush of your ass, leaving darker imprints from your complexion - it was no doubt, his spanking's seal. you could no longer play pretend as you wince from the pain, your eyes shot open and you turn your head.

your vision was then graced by the indigo haired, he took notice that you were awoken but as usual, he's cold as a gelid ice. he did not care.

when suddenly, he withdraws his cock from your pussy and flips your body around— thus making you meet his face, catching you off guard from your current dazed state. you slowly look up to meet his sharp gaze to the point that you could see your own image from his vivid cerise eyes. your very first locked gaze with blade, and mayhaps the last. his hand clasps on yours once again but only to bring it down to your cunt, he proceeds to uncurl your balled up fist.

he guides your fingers to stroke and pleasure yourself, your own digits prodding through your wet entrance. your breathing quickens, a foreign sensation brewing in the pits of your abdomen; meanwhile blade doesn't do anything but to watch on your expressions. "continue." blade commands ; his raspy, deep voice resounds into your ears.

you were struck with both of shock and nervousness, his tone laced with authority and coldness to it yet again. as embarrassing as it is to do it in front of a man you've never met in your lifetime, you obey his order, continuing to pump your fingers in and out of your coiling walls before his predatory naked eyes.

the navy haired pleasures himself at present, along with you - matching your rhythm. your legs spread open in front of him to feast upon that no man has ever tasted, an unfamiliar sensation wells in his heart. he groans and picks up the pace of him stroking his own erection, a feeling of release immediately dawning upon him.

with blurry vision, for a moment, you could see a hint of sadness and regret behind the vermillion windows of his soul. although the actions he's committing currently are lascivious and of lust, you swear to yourself there was something more than what meets the eye.

as quickly time flashes, strings of muddy white spring out from his cock, the liquids spilling into your exposed tits and your panic stricken face. he catches his breath in the midst of it, heavy panting echoes inside the enclosed vicinity. "i didn't order you to stop."

his words pierces your perturbed mind, he pertains to your masturbation ending just as when he reached his climax. the male swiftly gathers all the cum littering your skin with one hand and one movement, cupping the liquids carefully only to insert all of it into your pussy.

a moan bubbles from your throat, feeling his long fingers curl inside your sticky walls. blade, even though a stoic man most of the time, he's also full of surprises. he flicks his tongue over your clit, the pointy tip rubbing viscules and in circular motions on the specific spot.

your back arches, waves of pleasure crashing upon your lethargic self. blade doesn't halt and carries on to suck your walls out, margins of his sticky lips perfectly fitting with your lower ones. his tongue once again skillfully glides over your sensitive parts— earning him your climax as it spills out from your hole, adorning his sharp, masculine features as if your ejaculation was an accessory.

it felt ecstatic, as if your body drifts into the seventh heaven from blade's cold touches. in spite of the overwhelming gratification pooling in your body, hundreds of questions start to flare up in your mind, mainly about blade's identity. naturally, it rolls from your lips, a question he didn't see coming.

"what are you really?"

among the many blank faces blade shows you this night, he finally unravels a different one upon encountering your question. "are you really that fervent to know?" he rhetorically asks as a sneering smile creeps on his lips.

my masterlist !

#blade x reader #blade honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade smut #blade x reader smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut

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lay-z · 2 months ago

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🍷 Day 8 – Dinner time

Synopsis: Kyle has gotten a rare, personal invite to spend Christmas Day over at Captain Price’s house and the young Sergeant is already looking forward to see you again.

Pairing: husband!John Price x wife!Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | Kyle’s POV; curvy!Reader (some physical descriptions, not a lot); smut; cussing; drinking/intoxication; objectification; voyeurism; male masturbation

Word count: 2.9k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Kyle knocks on the dark cedar wood front door of the detached, two-storey brick house – or should he rather call it a mansion? Newly renovated, with its own idyllic driveway, extension double garage and, of course, the discreet yet high-tech security system overlooking the whole estate.

He knows that his Captain spared no expense when he moved you out here after the wedding; to the address somewhere in the countryside near Liverpool that no one outside of Price’s most trusted inner circle knows about.

Understandably.

It was quite the surprise to Kyle, when Price had invited him over for Christmas, – “My wife misses ya, son. Ordered me to invite ya over for dinner and you know I can’t deny her anything. Be there at 1800 and bring some wine, aye? She prefers red.”

And Kyle cannot disobey a direct, – or indirect? – order from his Captain.

Now it’s 17:47 p.m. on Christmas Eve and Kyle brushes an imaginary piece of lint off his left shoulder before adjusting his fashionable long black winter coat once more as he waits for the door to open, his breath fogging up in the cold evening air whenever he inhales and exhales deeply.

He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so nervous all of a sudden, or perhaps he does but he won’t acknowledge that now. So, instead, he questions himself if the bottle of red wine, which he’s currently clutching in his left hand, will be to your liking while his stomach keeps clenching and unclenching repeatedly, nearly making him nauseous.

And when the door finally opens to reveal you, a bewitching smile on your red-painted lips, wearing a classy black, formfitting cocktail dress with a cutesy Christmas-themed apron tied around your curvy waist, Kyle’s breath catches in his lungs.

“Hello there, soldier!” You chirp happily and don’t hesitate to pull him into a welcoming hug, “It’s so good to finally see you again.”

Kyle feels like someone punched him in the throat. He can feel your full breasts press up against his chest as you embrace him eagerly, arms lingering around his neck while he steals a quick whiff of your expensive perfume, and it’s torture already. All of it.

When you pull back to smile up at him with sparkling eyes, Kyle clears his throat loudly, mentally screaming at himself to pull his shit together.

“Good to see you, too, Mrs. Price,” he replies, his voice slightly breathless from the unexpected yet much needed hug, “Thank you so much for the invitation.”

He tries to flash you a charming smile, the one that usually gets him anywhere, but he ends up looking strained and awkward, and feels uncharacteristically insecure – intimidated, even.

You wave him off with a dismissive click of your tongue as you usher him inside and close the heavy door behind him, locking it with a string of numbers you tap into the small keypad with your manicured fingers.

“Please, Kyle, no need for formalities with little old me, okay? As much as I love my last name and the man who gave it to me, it does make me feel much older than I actually am.”

The soft chuckle that reaches Kyle’s ears, makes him smile more genuinely this time, “Yes, ma’am.”

Kyle already feels more cared for than he has in the past couple of months, when he’d last managed to make himself go home on leave to be with his closest family. Then again, this still feels different, more intimate somehow.

After you demand to take his coat and hang it up for him, Kyle is sent on his way towards the living room and immediately met by his Captain, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window front that leads into the spacious backyard, wearing a casual chic and terribly civilian outfit, a courtesy of your fashion sense, he assumes. Has to be.

He has his meaty hands clasped behind his back like the proper old geezer he is as he watches the beginning snowfall outside while the massive, picture-perfect Christmas tree lights up the living room with its warm glowing fairy lights and colourful ornaments.

By the way he is standing so broodingly, Kyle almost expects a lecture or worse, – a briefing.

“Sir–” Kyle begins, “If I dare say, this is a mighty fine place ya got here for yourself and your missis.”

Price hums in agreement, nodding along as he turns around slowly to glance over his shoulder at his guest, “Sometimes bastards like us do get lucky, son.”

Kyle nods curtly with a tight-lipped smile, wondering briefly when it will finally be his turn, though he’s not thinking about a house or some fancy car.

“Good to see you, Garrick. Glad you could make it.” When Price approaches, he gives Kyle a sturdy trademark pat on his shoulder before brushing past him towards the liquor cabinet, “A drink before dinner?”

Kyle glances down and lifts the bottle of red wine in his hand, the one he brought specifically for you, before watching how his Captain is already pouring bourbon into two tumbler glasses.

“Sounds good to me, sir.” He agrees.

When Kyle is eventually ushered to the dining room next, where the table has already been set with three sets of matching plates, glasses, cutlery and decor, his offered help in the kitchen is waved off by Price.

“No need for that, lad. Just sit back and try to relax. The wife and I will take care of everything tonight.”

So, Kyle doesn’t question it, tries not to feel uncomfortable of bad about being looked after like this without being able to offer anything in return, and he manages to relax after a first glass of delectable red wine on top of the whiskey he’d already consumed, though the slight buzz also makes it harder not to stare at your chest whenever you bend over the table to set down a plate of food or refill glasses.

You’re so unrealistically kind, soft, sweet and nurturing – everything Kyle longs for yet never able to find in his countless acquirement of meaningless flings and hookups, that he briefly wonders if you’re even real. Everything he knows, is always rushed and unpersonal, a means to an end that leaves him unfulfilled and cold each time; loneliness sneaking up at him at night and choking him slowly. Nothing ever sticks and lingers; no one wants to keep him warm and happy; it’s never anything like his Captain has found with you.

“God, I hope you’ll like it, Kyle,” you laugh coyly as you serve him a delicious-looking heavy plate of pot-roasted sirloin beef with vegetables and mashed potatoes, “I swear, if you don’t like it, then John has lied to me about my cooking skills all this time.”

But Kyle is too focused on the way your plump tits squish together and nearly spill over the low neckline of your tight dress as he glances over the rim of his wine glass, taking a suspiciously large gulp of the ruby liquid.

He'd eat old, mouldy toast if it meant he could bury his face in your soft breasts afterwards, perhaps even suck and lick on your nipple a bit. And then he catches himself wondering what colour your nipples are, how large your areolas–

Price chuckles gruffly and his chair scrapes over the hardwood floor as he adjusts it at the head of the table, “You know I would never lie to you about your cooking skills, love. Honesty was a big part in our vows.”

“Is that why I can’t ask any questions about your job?” You quip, taking the seat across from Kyle, “Kyle, you need to back me up on this.”

And Kyle’s dark lashes flutter as he blinks rapidly, coming back to reality, to his Captain engaging in playful banter with his dear wife. The woman Kyle is down bad – bad – for. He shifts in his seat, discreetly adjusting the front of his black chino pants below the table and clears his throat, “Uhm, I’m–I’m afraid I’ve signed too many NDA’s to be of service for this, ma’am.”

Price snorts, shooting his wife a triumphant smile as he picks up his cutlery, “Good lad.”

Despite an amazing, hearty dinner to soak up the liquor in his gut, Kyle ends up drunk after allowing both wine and whiskey glasses being filled up repeatedly in turns. He’s not embarrassingly shit-faced drunk, but too drunk to drive and definitely too drunk to argue with you and Price about taking a taxi back to the hotel instead of staying the night.

“I’ve already arranged the guest bedroom for you,” you tell him with the tiniest pout, “– and no one has stayed in it yet, so do us the honour, Sergeant.”

Price’s warm, heavy palm on Kyle’s shoulder is the nail in the coffin, “You’re spending the night, Garrick. That’s an order.” Another rough pat follows and Kyle slumps in his chair, nodding at his Captain.

“Makes sense, sir. ‘m sorry for the–”

“Nonsense,” Price interrupts him gruffly, then gives you a curt nod before you turn on your heels, leaving the living room at once, “Just let her take care of ya and you’re both gonna end up happy.”

When Kyle furrows his brows in question and opens his mouth to ask for elaboration, his upper arm is already being grabbed, his impressive body lifted out of the comfortable armchair.

“You have a lovely wife, sir.” Kyle mutters, speech slightly slurred as he sways with his steps next to his Captain, who’s wearing a knowing smile on his lips, “Aye, couldn't agree more, lad.”

Pretty, plush thing. Ripe and ready to be plucked and consumed, yet utterly devoted to and patient for your dear husband.

Price is the luckiest bastard in the world and Kyle can’t even blame him for hiding you away here, tucking you under his battered wing to make sure no harm ever comes to you the moment you’d foolishly agreed to become his wife, his to protect and cherish. No, the rough man has devoted his life to making sure that the filthiest dirt of this world never reaches you; determined to keep your beautiful soul pure and give up his own in return.

Fuck, Kyle would gladly do that, too, if it meant he could so much as dream of someone like you without feeling guilty whenever he’s deployed to some shithole corner of this world, risking his life.

He’s dragged into the guest bedroom; a large king-sized bed taking up most of its space, new and modern, with bedside tables on each side and the scent of the navy-blue bed sheets still fresh. Through half-lidded, glossy eyes, Kyle notices the white sideboard with a sleek flat TV, a matching tallboy dresser, and a small bookshelf with a plush armchair and standard lamp in the corner.

“Can you wish your wife a good night from me, sir?” Kyle asks as he kicks his shoes off before struggling to unbutton his dress shirt, unaware of his Captain sauntering over to the armchair.

Price lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle as he sinks down into the cushions, “Tell her yerself.”

Still oblivious when the door to the room clicks shut, Kyle shrugs off his long-sleeved shirt before folding it haphazardly.

“Do you need help with that, soldier?”

It takes a brief moment for the soft purr of your voice to register in his foggy brain, but when it does, it causes Kyle instant heart palpitations, and it gets worse when he looks over at you, seeing you wearing a red, flimsy babydoll nightgown, a red silky bow adorning your full breasts.

“My wife asked you a question, Gaz,” Price gruffs out from his seat in the corner, whiskey glass in one hand and cigar in the other, causing Kyle to question his sanity, because he clearly must be hallucinating right about now, “Answer her.”

Perhaps he’s got alcohol poisoning and is already in a coma. He'd prefer that above... whatever this is.

“I–I–I–” He stammers, watching as you approach him with sensual steps, a delighted twinkle in your pretty eyes and carrying a tall glass of water in your hand.

“No need to be nervous, Kyle,” you coo at him and reach for one of his hands before pushing the cold glass against his palm until his fingers wrap around it, “Bottoms up. It will help with the hangover.”

As the terrific soldier he is, Kyle does as he is told, lifting the rim of the glass up to his lips while his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Price, the latter puffing on his cigar, strong legs spread wide and–

Kyle sputters and chokes on the last gulp, sobering up at once after noticing the clear outline of his Captain’s raging boner.

You pat his back to help with his coughing and Kyle’s eyes are immediately drawn to the way your tits jiggle at the movement, making him bite back a groan as you speak so sweetly, “Hey–Hey, calm down. It’s okay.”

“What the bloody hell is going on here?! Captain!” Kyle demands, his voice laced with a hint of panic as he squirms at the edge of the mattress, praying for the steady flow of blood rushing south to stop while his cock chuffs.

Before you answer, you glance back at your husband, who gives you a slow nod.

“John told me that you’ve been through a rough patch lately,” you say, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip as you clearly consider your next words, “– and he suggested that I could try make you feel better.”

Kyle is momentarily stunned into silence, mouth gaping as the empty glass slips out of his grasp and onto the plush carpet on the floor, “Sir, you–you can’t be fuckin’ serious.”

You bend forward to pick it up again and the short nightgown rucks up over your back, revealing your plump ass cheeks and the tiny matching red thong hugging your thick curves, and Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as he feels himself getting dizzy.

“You want to fuck my wife, Garrick,” Price remarks, a plume of thick smoke curling up into the air as he exhales slowly, “Then go on and take her; just wrap it up and don’t be too rough. I’m the only one allowed to mark her up. Right, darling?”

You nod eagerly, flashing a dazzling smile at your husband before placing the glass on the bedside table.

“But–”

Kyle’s objection is silenced when you cup his face and lean in to capture his lips in a deep, slow kiss that has his heartrate spike and his pulse thrum in his neck, even when you pull back again while he chases after your lips with a pathetic whine.

“Just be a good boy and let me ride you, Kyle.”

The way you ride his cock so eagerly, plump tits bouncing right in front of his face, your core squelching sloppily, squeezing him tightly with your feet planted flat on the mattress, has his brain go stupid and his initial restraint dissolve like candy floss in water, washed away by the steady current.

And the noises you're making. Saccharine whines, hiccupped moans, and the way you utter his name so desperate and breathlessly. Oh... Lord have mercy on him...

His head tips back against the plush pillow, long fingers digging into the fat of your plush hips, thick tendons protruding in his neck while his chest heaves rapidly and his full lips part with a guttural moan. It's warm, so bloody warm and wet and tight and he's losing himself in you so easily, tension coiling and pleasure mounting, up–up–up–up–

"F-Fuck! Oh, fuck–! I a-ah–”

Kyle's eyes snap open, staring at the ceiling and his whole body jolts, toes curling as he sits up, crying out in pleasure-pain while he folds forward as if being electrocuted, unable to control it when his balls throb while your perfect cunt sucks him in relentlessly, squeezing like a vice and stimulating his cock until he can't stop it.

He comes so hard, his vision blurs and frails at the edges; spurt after spurt of potent cum spilling from his ruddy tip into the condom, making him fear it might overflow with it.

In the corner of the bedroom, a rough groan and muttered curses are torn from the Captain’s throat as he spills into his own calloused fist, perfectly timed and skilfully edged; his milky cum dripping over his scarred, hairy knuckles.

Maybe this is what peace truly feels like, a small piece of heaven that has been offered to him. All free, no consequences, but the fact that he's hooked now.

“Mhmm, you didn’t even wait for me to finish,” you bemoan with a pout, your relentless fucking now slowed down to a sensual grind while Kyle quakes with aftershock. He wants to apologize, but his brain is mush, and you beat him to it, anyway.

“You know... whenever that happens, John has me sit on his face.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kyle is already moving in.

#call of duty #price x reader x gaz #gazprice #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price #john price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #price x reader #tf 141 #cod #cod advent calendar 2024 #reader insert

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beelinx · 2 months ago

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the moment i knew

synopsis: between all the stress of volleyball and final exams, your boyfriend kenma happened to forget a very important day - your birthday. warnings: kenma might be a bit of a bad bf </3 angst w/ (somewhat) of a happy ending. NOT PROOFREAD ! 3.1k words fem!reader

based on this rec <3

it was no secret kenma gets tired easily – everyone can see it, really. he has always had a hard time keeping up with his overly energetic teammates, often opting to miss practice to relax and play videogames.

there were days when kenma was just so exhausted he forgot stuff and even neglected his studies.

well, he couldn’t really do that last one much lately.

final exams were tiring not only for him, but for all the students attending nekoma – and you definitely weren’t an exception.

you spent most of your days studying the hardest you could so as to get good grades and be finally able to relax. at least you had something to look forward to, though.

your birthday landing near finals season wasn’t exactly the nicest thing ever, especially considering most of your friends would be too busy. therefore, you opted for no party; just spending the day chilling with the people closest to you was enough.

as your boyfriend, kenma was one of the first people to be told of your plans for the day. you’d been forcing him to study with you, the idea of him failing because he preferred to play video games rather than studying bothered you immensely.

“i’ve been thinking.” you’d said during one of your breaks, a half-opened bag of chips in your hand.

“about what?” he mumbled in reply, his focus separated between the game he was currently playing and your current conversation.

“well, i know that with finals and all, everyone’s been super busy.” kenma hummed in agreement. you ate a handful of chips before continuing speaking. “and since my birthday falls in between all this madness, i think i’ll just not do anything.”

he grumbled in reply, so you continued, “maybe just you and some of my best friends can come over, and we can watch a movie or something.” you nodded, already set on your idea. “we can eat tons of snacks, too. i want popcorn – and i can get the chips you like.”

kenma nodded absentmindedly, eyes currently trained on his game system. his focus on you was slowly slipping away.

noticing his detached spirit, you quickly added, “you don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to though! i know you feel kinda awkward around my friends, but they like you. i promise!”

he hummed once again in reply and stood up slowly, giving you a quick kiss on your cheek – and that basically seemed to mark the end of the conversation. you’d mentioned the party again in later conversations, all in which he seemed to grow more comfortable with the idea.

around three weeks later, it was finally your birthday.

both your friends and your classmates at school had all congratulated you, some giving you gifts. your best friend even brought out a cake and sang you happy birthday, along with your other closest friends, during break. it was nice, receiving so much love from everyone; but something was wrong.

you hadn’t seen kenma all day.

you looked for him everywhere – all his classes, your lunch spots, and everywhere else. you even asked kuroo about it, but he told you he didn’t know, and that it was likely he just overslept and stayed home.

okay, no matter. just because he didn’t come to school doesn’t mean he forgot you existed or anything… right?

you texted him, of course. he replied to you quickly – he always does. he explained he was just feeling tired and that you shouldn’t worry, but that’s not what you were really concerned about.

throughout that whole conversation, never once did he wish you a happy birthday. it made you feel horrible. him forgetting your birthday broke your heart. i mean, it’s not like he didn’t know when he was. you told him. and, sure, maybe he was just so tired with exams that he forgot. but, your friends hadn’t. hell, even kuroo hadn’t – he wished you a happy birthday when you walked up to him earlier.

so, why did he forget?

your thoughts started becoming too much for you. the feeling that the person you considered most important to you currently forgetting such an important moment for you felt soul-crushing. suddenly, you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. you tried to blink them away – and when that didn’t work and the tears started to spill, you wiped them off your face as quickly as you could and rushed to the ladies room.

you rushed with your head down, trying to avoid anyone in the halls seeing your red face. once you got to the bathroom, you locked yourself inside a stall and started sobbing as quietly as you could.

you were suddenly startled by a soft knock on the door of the stall you were sitting in. “...are you okay?” said a soft, questioning voice – one belonging to your best friend. of course, she’d noticed you breaking down. seems like nothing can get past her.

you sniffled and wiped your nose with toilet paper before speaking. “yeah.”

“i don’t believe that.”

slowly, you stood up and unlocked the door of the stall, walking out to meet her. she looked startled upon seeing your red cheeks and puffy eyes, but her features quickly softened into that of concern and sympathy.

“c’mere,” she said, pulling you in for a big hug. then, she grabbed you by the arm and guided you to the sinks, where she ushered you to wash your face. meanwhile, she quickly sent a text on her phone, right before returning her full attention to you.

she gave you a few seconds of silence, waiting for you to comfortable to speak.

“he forgot my birthday,” you whimpered, tears still running down your cheeks.

“who?” she asked. “kenma?”

you nodded in reply, and you swear smoke was basically coming out of her ears. “oh that jackass,” she hissed. “i’ll kill him next time i see him, i swear. what an idiot. how could he forget your birthday? you’ve talked about it time and time again! seriously, i swear that guy better switch schools before i catch his bum ass and-”

before she could finish her threat, the door busted open, revealing your other two friends – yuki and hana. their faces looked red, too, and their clothes seemed disheveled. either they just sprinted all the way here, or they were up to some interesting activities.

your best friend turned around, face seething with anger, and quickly filled them in on the situation. almost immediately, they had all flocked around you, uttering many words of comfort and just as many insults on kenma’s name.

“well… maybe he’s actually planning a secret surprise party?” hana suggested, trying to get you to cheer up, it seemed.

you shook your head. “no, kenma doesn’t like surprises,” you said. “also – i’ve told him before that i wouldn’t like having a surprise party. and he knows today’s plans since i invited him.”

your best friend scoffed, “if he’s willing to forget your birthday then he’s likely to forget tons of other stuff. anniversaries, holidays, picking up your kids for school…” she trailed off, but her point had been made clear. “you should end it now that you know exactly what kind of partner he is, honestly.”

you bit your lip and scrunched your eyebrows in thought. she made a good point, and you knew there was a high chance she was right. but, kenma hasn’t forgotten any of your other anniversaries. in fact, he’s celebrated them all monthly, without missing any of them. you were close to being one year together with him, and during that time he’s been nothing but considerate of you. it seemed he always knew exactly how you were feeling, and what you needed. he doted on you constantly – complimenting your appearance, buying you gifts with all his money, and even trying his hardest to step out of his comfort zone and show more physical affection. despite how heartbroken you felt right now, it still didn’t feel right to break up with him over this.

“i know what you’re thinking,” your best friend said, taking notice of the look in your eyes. she always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “‘oh but he’s so nice! he’s never done anything wrong!’” she mocked your voice in a way that almost made you laugh despite the current situation. “but i’m telling you, that’s how it starts.”

“maybe,” you replied, “but i still want to talk to him.”

she sighed dramatically, “alright then, whatever you want.” she paused for a minute, clearly hesitating. “i’m just looking out for you, ‘kay? i do hope this is just a stupid mistake that will never happen again on his part. i really do want things to work out for you; i wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken – especially since i know how much he means to you”

you smiled softly and hugged her again. yuki and hana went on their way, not before wishing you good luck with your talk with kenma. your best friend lingered for a little longer, offering to walk to your next class after the lunch break, which you agreed to.

after school had ended, you said goodbye to your friends once again before heading out. you weren’t going to your house this time. well, you were going sometime, since your party plans with your friends were still on. but given that kenma had forgotten your birthday, you assumed he had likely forgotten about the party, too. therefore, going to his house served two purposes: to remind him of said party, and to have a really serious talk with him.

the walk over to kenma’s house somewhat relaxed you, the familiarity of the trees and buildings bringing a sense of comfort to your stressed-out mind. it was a road you had followed many times before, mostly with kenma, though. a sudden wave of sadness washed over you at the abrupt thought that, if this conversation didn’t go well, it would be the last time you walked through this path to visit his house. the thought made you feel sick to your stomach, the previous sense of comfort banishing almost instantaneously.

suddenly, you found yourself standing at his front door. given the lack of noises and lights, you figured his parents weren’t currently home – they were at work, probably. just as well, it might make this even less awkward for you if his parents weren’t here. because, if things went south and they heard that… yeah, you don’t think you’d ever be able to get over it.

your hesitated before knocking softly at his door. you waited for a few seconds, the sound of your heart thumping erratically in your chest being the only noise your ears could pick up. your heart only stopped once he had opened a door. just for a second though, because then it was back to beating at record speed.

kenma looked nice – he always did, in your opinion. despite his messy hair and wrinkled clothes that suggested he’d spent all day laying down, probably playing a bunch of video games, you thought he looked really good. handsome, even. the corners of your lips almost quirked up at the memory of your friends making fun of you the day you confessed to them your huge crush on him.

“oh.” kenma was clearly startled, not expecting you to be the person knocking at his door. “hey, y/n,” he finally said, smiling softly at the sight of you. it was sweet, but you weren’t here for that. you were here for serious matters.

“can we talk?”

he was taken aback by your sudden tone. it was rare for you to act this way, usually the second he’d opened the door you would have jumped in his arms and started rambling on and on. so, obviously, given your change in attitude, he knew this was going to be a serious talk.

kenma nodded and opened the door more, allowing you to enter. you walked up to his room, the house all too familiar. his bedroom smelled like him – well, obviously it did. a video game was left paused on his desktop, the music coming from it stopping abruptly as he saved his progress and closed the game. he sat down next to you on the bed and stared deeply into your eyes. neither of you said anything; it seemed that he wanted you to take the initiative.

“do you know what today is?” you asked him. maybe you still had a sliver of hope he was just waiting to tell you in person. maybe hana was right and he was throwing a surprise party. maybe.

he paused before speaking cautiously, “last week of finals?”

you scrunched your eyebrows and looked down, “check the date, kenma.”

following your orders, he turned on his phone and checked today’s date. his eyes scanned over his phone for a bit, clearly trying to piece together what you were trying to hint at. it wasn’t your anniversary, not yet. he couldn’t remember any special holidays taking place today. maybe it was another one of those dumb trends based on songs. no, you would’ve told him about that. you would’ve…

wait.

kenma’s head snapped towards yours, eyes wide. “it’s your birthday.” he stated. it wasn’t a question, he knew it was. he didn’t know how he forgot, but now he felt awful – especially after noticing your reaction to his words.

“yeah.” you replied simply, your voice raspy.

he stayed quiet for a second, trying to figure out what to say or what to do. his eyes seemed trouble, no doubt he’s mind was off calculating again.

finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

“i’m… sorry.”

…

“that’s it?” you said, astonished. “is that all you have to say after forgetting my birthday?”

“i don’t know what else i can say,” kenma responded, “i really am sorry. i’ll make it up to you, i-”

“how exactly do you plan to make it up to me, kenma?” you asked him, trying your hardest to keep your voice level and the tears from making an embarrassing return.

“i don’t know yet but,” he took a deep breath, “i will make it up to you, i promise.”

you scoffed and looked away, “so what? am i supposed to take your word for it?”

he swallowed before speaking softly again, “yeah.”

you took in a breath and closed your eyes. “alright then. i’ll see you around,” you said plainly, right before heading over to the door.

“wait!” kenma exclaimed, grabbing your arm before you could get away. he softened his grip once he’d realized he might hurt you. you felt his fingers caress your arm softly, an action he always did to comfort you. “i know you’re upset, it’s my fault. i was tired and i was stupid, but i…” he took a deep breath, “i’m sorry, okay? i’ll do anything it takes for you to forgive me.”

hearing kenma so desperate was a rare sight. his eyes looked red, as if he was close to actually starting crying. it wasn’t common for him to show so much emotion. so, in your heart, you knew he meant every word he said. kenma was never the type to lie for his own gain. but… still.

you wanted to forgive him, you really did. still – it didn’t feel right to forgive him so easily, your best friend’s words ringing in your ear. however, it also didn’t feel right to not forgive him. so, you made up your mind on what you’d do.

you kept your gaze averted to the ground, knowing deep down that if you looked at him you’d immediately give in.

“kenma,” you started, “i understand you didn’t mean it, but it still hurt my feelings. so i… well, i’m not breaking up with you.” he seemed to relax more at your words. “but i’m also not forgiving you this easily. you need to make it up to me, and then i guess we’ll see where it goes, ‘kay?”

he nodded, “do you still want me to go to your house?”

you bit your lip, unsure on what to say. “my friends might be a bit… hostile towards you, and it may be better if i had more time to think. so… it might be better if you don’t, actually.” he once again nodded, understanding your point.

“we should do something – tomorrow, maybe. i don’t know,” you continued, “you can think about how you’ll make it up to me during that time, if you want.”

“okay,” he said softly, watching as you walked away, not making an effort to stop you this time. he lowered his gaze and stared intently at his hands. you didn’t forgive him, but you also did? he wasn’t sure what to do to fully make it up to you, but he’d have to try his hardest now. he imagined kuroo would make a comment about how down bad he’d become that he’d actually put so much effort into something that wasn’t a video game.

“kenma?”

his head snapped up at the sound of your sweet voice. you were standing just out of his doorway, looking awkwardly at him.

you hesitated, debating whether or not you should tell him that he does have a chance, that you really wanted to forgive him. but if you did then maybe he wouldn’t try, so…

“nevermind,” you shook your head, “good luck on your game. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

his eyes followed you as you scurried away. he only relaxed once he heard the sound of the front door slamming.

you might have backed down whatever it was you were going to say, but the fact that you lingered for a longer while made him feel as if he did have a shot. for a second he’d worried you would never forgive him. that you – kind, sweet, and understanding you – had finally had enough with him and would leave him all alone.

knowing he had a chance motivated him to try his hardest, already planning what he’d say, what he’d give you, and what else he could do. he kept kicking himself over how your birthday managed to slip his mind. it was such a stupid mistake, and he’d make sure it’d never happen again. that’s not what you deserve. kuroo would, without a doubt, call him an idiot, too.

it didn’t matter, he deserved that.

and you, you deserve the best of the best – which he’ll try his hardest to give you.

even if it takes him years, he’ll never stop trying to make it up to you.

because you’re you, and you’re way too good for him.

he has a lot of work to do for tomorrow, huh?

#i love him so much actually #kenma x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #one shot #angst

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sandplague · 3 months ago

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pathologic 3 save & sound 2024 presentation

this is a quick attempt at a transcript of the presentation. I think I got most of it but there are some words I was unable to hear, I can't say I have a lot of practice doing this and that's on me so if any of you guys can help me I'll edit it asap

Ressa Schwarzwald: I'm Ressa from Gameowdio. Our team has been working on Pathologic 3 with Vasily Kashnikov and his apprentice Nikolai. This video will feature some of the audio stuff we've made together.

Our goal regarding audio direction was to give the real experience of being in the epicenter of an epidemic. Fully realistic, no bullshit. So we are obviously shooting this video in The Town. We realized pretty early that the game was quite different from the original Pathologic 2 because of the time travel mechanics. So for the prototype we built a time travel machine [the date November 1924 shows on screen], which appeared to be quite useful to record some source sounds, and [date changes to November 3024] make this video in just half a second using existing technology.

Let's start with the music.

Vasily Kashnikov: Hi, I'm Vasily Kashnikov, audio director of Pathologic 3 project. I'll tell you how our music is structured. We were already thinking about how the Bachelor's game would sound when we were working on Patholgic 2 and writing music for Haruspex. In Pathologic 2, the music had more ethnic and real motives (motifs?) and instruments. Since the city and its customs are familiar with Haruspex since he was a child, he is involved in the traditional way of life. In the case of Pathologic 3, this is the view of an outsider who evaluates everything from the point of view of rationality and science. Therefore, we are trying to make the Pathologic 3 soundtrack colder and more detached from the steppes and ethnicity in character. There is more synthesis, guitars at the same time, the Bachelor communicates with those in power so the soundtrack contains a large share of minimalist so-called furniture music that could sound in the beginning of the last century. Piano etudes and references to composers of that time: Satie, Debussy, etc. The soundtrack is a rather eclectic mix of dreampop, downtempo, and (?) minimalism.

In the city when the Bachelor is alone with himself, we emphasize the cold mind of the rhythm section: less emotional harmony, and sometimes electronic timbres. In the rooms where we need to separate the main character from those he interacts with, we use more expressive harmonies and more classical instruments: piano and guitar passages.

When we designed the interactive music system, we assumed that time is finite, and the music had to change depending on the amount of time the Bachelor had left. However, we later abandoned this system and now the music changes depending on the state of the Bachelor himself, who can fall into apathy or psychosis. To emphasize these states, we apply filters and effects to different layers of our tracks and get a slower, muffled sound in the case of apathy, and wired (?) nervous, glitchy in the case of psychosis. In the infected quarters, there are interactive systems that... [screen begins to distort] oh my god, Nataliya! Please stop this!

Nataliya Radina: Whoops, hehe, sorry. But yeah, basically the other system we created reflects everything you hear in the game. Such as... If we use our gun when dealing with the local thugs, the longer we aim the weapon at the people, the less sounds of the outside world we hear and the louder becomes the heartbeat. To add to the intensity, sharper tone was used along with a high pitch tinnitus sound. If the psychosis level goes to the maximum, it starts to damage Bachelor's health, which is accompanied by flashes on the screen, as well as low heartbeat and short breathing sounds.

Vasily Kashnikov: In the infected and rebel's quarters, there are also interactive systems that change the character of the music by adding or disabling instrument layers depending on the state of the world or the Bachelor's equipment to fight the plague. As a result, we have 12 tracks for each day spent in the city. they can freely switch between each other and several dozen themes for locations and characters, and all the music is subject to change depending on the state of the Bachelor.

Nataliya Radina: Since the game has a weather changing system, we also wanted to reflect that in our audio feedback as well. The game has global wetness parameter that shows how intense the rain is. The more it rains, the more squishy and muddy are the steps of the outside surfaces. Moreover, if you come closer to the window, you can hear the rain pondering on the glass. Even in the middle of the plague, we always have room for cozy moments, right? My favorite part of that system is involving cows. [cow moo]. So, when it's raining, you can actually hear very very soft sound of raindrops dropping on those bovine butts. And I personally think it's beautiful.

Artur Ramanouski: Hi, my name is Artur, and I was also involved in creating some sound assets for the game.

Probably the hardest thing to record were the footsteps. I had everything planned out: bought the equipment, got every type of surface, but...there was one small thing I overlooked: I live in a city with over 12 million people. Noise everywhere. The solution was simple and ingenious: I recorded everything on a Sunday, because in Buenos Ares, Sunday is the one day when no one does anything.

Nataliya Radina: One of the most important places in the game is the cathedral. There we have a system of ladders that control the speed and direction of time. Direction wise, we can have it flow normally, or reversed. [entire presentation is rewound very quickly so it's back to Ressa]

Ressa Schwarzwald: She is super professional.

Nataliya Radina: As for the speed, we can make it stand still, go twice as fast, or half normal speed. We created an audio system that has to (?) understand what is actually happening around (inaudible). When we reverse time, spatial effects are added to the surrounding sounds. Ambience, steps, and the mechanism itself. When time stands still, we increase the low frequencies in the ambience, and all the other sounds are muted to zero. Now lastly, when the time goes twice as fast, or half the original speed, the pitch of the surrounding sound changes accordingly.

The coolest part of this system is that it's been actually implemented into the game engine using only one parameter.

Ressa Schwarzwald: Thank you for watching. See you here, later!

#pathologic #pathologic 3 #save & sound 2024 #info #daniil dankovsky #vasily kashnikov #audio #soundtrack

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goblinontour · 5 months ago

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It’s Always Hard In The Morning

a couple rounds of strip poker and truth or dare gone wrong…or right?

warnings: fetus!alex, smut, oral (m receiving), alcohol, vomit, he’s a bit awkward but not too much

word count: 6.2k

The music felt loud. Too loud, maybe. But in his head, it was even louder. A relentless pulse of beats and treble that thrummed through his veins. The reality was that the volume was pretty low, as you’d been asked to keep it down after some complaints, but the alcohol coursing through his system distorted everything. The vodka and cranberry juice mix had been his drink of choice for the night, and he’d downed enough of it to feel the numbness spreading from his lips to his fingertips. His stomach would probably make him pay for it tomorrow, but for now, that was a distant problem. Anyway, you’d all likely be in the same miserable boat when the sun came up, so he didn’t dwell on it.

What did bother him, though, was the fact that he was fully dressed. Not because he was too warm or anything, but because, to his surprise, he’d won all the rounds of poker you’d played. Strip poker, to be exact. Sure, there was a fleeting sense of pride in his victories. Who wouldn’t feel good about winning? But that pride was quickly eclipsed by the growing realisation that he might look like a fool for being the only one still clothed.

The other guys had stripped down to their boxers, lounging back on their elbows with the kind of casualness that made it seem like they were born to be in this state of undress. They were laughing, nudging each other, their confidence undiminished by the lack of clothing. If anything, the absence of layers seemed to free them up, make them more comfortable. More…cool.

And then there were the girls, with their bright eyes and flushed cheeks, sitting around the circle on the floor, glancing at each other, at the boys, and at him. He couldn’t ignore the fact that several pairs of breasts were staring back at him, covered only by bras that, judging by their colours and patterns, had been chosen with this exact scenario in mind. It wasn’t just a game. It was a chance. The kind of chance that you only got once, especially at this age when crushes were intense and opportunities to act on them were rare.

But despite the playful atmosphere, the giggles, and the alcohol-fueled courage hanging in the air, Alex couldn’t bring himself to look up. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on his hands, resting awkwardly in his lap. The cardigan he wore, at his nana’s insistence, the one with “A.T.” stitched in black thread over the baby blue fabric, right above his heart, suddenly felt like a suit of armour he didn’t know how to take off.

You were sitting directly across from him, your pink-ruffled bra on full display, your hopes of catching his eye slowly fading with every second his attention stayed glued to his own cuticles. You had chosen that bra deliberately, as had the other girls chosen theirs, expecting and maybe even hoping that this exact situation would arise. The thrill of potentially being noticed by the boy you’d spent countless hours daydreaming about had your heart racing. But it seemed like your chances with Alex were slim. His head was down, his focus entirely elsewhere, and those hands of his seemed more important than anything, or anyone else in the room.

As the silence stretched, broken only by the distant music and occasional drunken laughter, the reality began to set in. Alex Turner, the boy you’d been crushing on for who knows how long, was too wrapped up in his own world to notice yours. And for all the layers he still had on, he was somehow more exposed than anyone else in the room.

His fingers drummed lightly against his knee as he watched the others with a detached sense of amusement. The alcohol had dulled his usual quick wit and made everything feel a bit more surreal. The laughter echoed around him, louder than it should have been, blurring with the music and the hum of nerves running beneath the surface. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words felt heavy on his tongue. He tried to force them out, something about how they should call it a night or maybe switch to a different game, but his voice barely rose above a whisper.

No one heard him. No one except you.

“Truth or dare?!” you suddenly called out, cutting through the noise, catching everyone’s attention. Heads turned towards you, and just like that, the mood shifted. The playful tension returned, curiosity sparking in everyone’s eyes. The group was immediately in, eager for the next round, especially since the stakes had already risen with the poker game.

Alex felt his pulse quicken. Truth or dare was a different beast, and he knew it. It had a way of pulling out secrets and forcing people into situations that might seem harmless in the moment but could linger long after. When it came to him, it was no surprise that the first dare was straightforward: “Lose a piece of clothing, Alex.”

The room erupted into a mix of cheers and teasing groans. Alex felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him, but there was no backing out now. With a resigned sigh, he stood up and slowly peeled off the cardigan, folding it neatly before tossing it aside. A part of him was relieved to be rid of it, as though shedding the extra layer might make him feel less out of place.

The game continued, each round peeling back another layer of vulnerability from everyone involved. By the time it was Alex’s turn again, he was down to his jeans, bare-chested and sockless. The skin on his chest prickled with the cool air, but the heat from the alcohol and the thrill of the game kept him from shivering. He knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t, take off his jeans, no matter how much he drank or how many dares were thrown his way. It was a line he wasn’t ready to cross, and he hoped the others would sense that.

Then, it was your turn again. You locked eyes with Dee, your best friend, who had a knowing smile playing on her lips. You knew what was coming before she even spoke, and despite the anticipation, your heart still skipped a beat.

“Dare.” you said confidently, knowing you could trust Dee to set the stage perfectly.

“Seven minutes in heaven with anyone you want- no, wait, with one of the boys.” she declared, her eyes twinkling with excitement. The room collectively inhaled, and you could feel the anticipation buzzing in the air.

You hesitated, but only for show. Inside, you were already picturing how this would go down. You’d been hoping for this moment since the school trip was announced, since you had handed over the money for it, and maybe even before that. You’d imagined a thousand different scenarios, but this one, the one that was actually happening, felt like the culmination of all your daydreams.

Trying to play it cool, you glanced around the circle, pretending to consider your options. Then you said it, almost too casually, “I choose Alex.”

A few giggles erupted from the group, and all eyes turned to him. Alex felt a surge of panic mixed with a strange thrill. He hadn’t expected this, though he wasn’t exactly surprised. Still, his mouth moved before his brain could catch up.

“We’re playing truth or dare, not seven minutes in heaven.” he blurted out, his voice sharper than intended. His stomach churned, not from the alcohol this time, but from the idea of being alone with you in such close quarters. He didn’t trust himself, didn’t trust the feelings bubbling up inside him, feelings he’d tried to push down all night. And yet, he wanted it. He wanted it more than anything.

“Oh, come on, Smarty.” you teased, using the nickname you’d given him months ago. The room erupted in encouragement, the others egging him on, caught up in the game’s momentum.

There was no way out, and a part of him didn’t want one. He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and gave a small, reluctant nod.

The group whooped in approval, and before he knew it, he was being ushered towards the nearest private space they could find. But just as they reached the bathroom door, the sound of retching hit their ears. Someone was already inside, clearly not handling the night’s drinks too well. The excitement deflated slightly, as the group exchanged glances, a mix of disappointment and mild disgust settling over them.

“Guess the bathroom’s out of the question.” someone muttered, and there was a murmur of agreement as everyone took a step back, the mood wavering for a moment.

Alex glanced at you, catching your eye as the others started to lose interest and began discussing where the game should go next. With a quick breath, he leaned in close, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “You wanna go to my room then, or...?”

The suggestion hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken possibilities. You met his gaze and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

As you and Alex tried to slip away quietly out of the room, you couldn’t resist glancing back at Dee. She had been keeping an eye on you all night, and you knew she would be watching now, looking for some kind of signal. You caught her gaze from across the room, and without saying a word, you gave her a look. The look. The unmistakable “this is happening” look.

Her eyes lit up in response, her lips curling into a knowing grin. She gave a quick nod, her approval clear. She knew how much you’d wanted this, how long you’d been waiting for a moment like this with Alex. Her look said it all: “Go for it.”

This was really happening.

His room wasn’t far, just across the hall from where you’d all been playing the game. That was actually your room, the biggest one on this floor, and now you remembered you’d been assigned to it when you first arrived. It had taken you by surprise that you’d ended up in the room where all the action seemed to gather, but now it felt almost like fate.

The door creaked softly as Alex pushed it open, and the two of you stumbled slightly as you crossed the threshold, the lingering effects of the alcohol making everything feel just a bit off balance. Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the thin curtains. The bed, one double bed that Alex was supposed to share with another guy for the trip, sat in the middle of the room, looking oddly inviting despite the circumstances.

He moved first, sitting down on the edge, and you followed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The quiet of the room wrapped around you both, the sounds of the party right outside muffled now, leaving just the two of you in this small, private bubble. There was no need for words. The situation spoke for itself.

You turned towards him, catching his eye again, and the question that had been burning in the back of your mind was written all over your face: “Wanna make out?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, Alex licked his lips, a nervous, almost instinctual gesture, and leaned in closer. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he closed the gap between you, his lips brushing yours in a hesitant kiss.

It started slow, as if you were both testing the waters, figuring out the rhythm and flow. But then something clicked, and the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more real. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Time seemed to blur as you lost yourselves in each other, the awkwardness of the situation fading away, replaced by the heady rush of being young and alive and caught up in the moment. The bed creaked beneath you as you shifted closer, the space between you disappearing until there was nothing left but the heat of his body against yours.

Nothing outside that room mattered anymore. Not the group of friends who had pushed you together, not the games or the dares or the consequences waiting for you tomorrow. All that mattered was here, now, the taste of his lips on yours and the way his hands felt as they pulled you closer, pulling you in a reality that, for just a little while, was only yours.

The kiss grew more intense, the initial hesitancy giving way to something almost desperate, something that had been building up in both of you for what felt like forever. You shifted on the bed, swinging your leg over to straddle him, your movements a little uncoordinated from the vodka still buzzing in your veins. Alex responded instinctively, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you in place as you settled onto his lap.

He shuffled back on the bed, the springs creaking under the sudden shift, until his bare back hit the wall. The rough texture of the poorly painted surface scraped against his skin, but he hardly noticed, too lost in the heat of the moment, too focused on the way your body pressed against his, the closeness of it all.

You leaned in, deepening the kiss even further, almost as if you were trying to devour him, to make up for all the time you’d spent just imagining this. His lips were soft, and his breath came in shallow gasps between kisses, but there was an urgency in the way he moved against you, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

Alex was a good kisser. You’d suspected as much after staring at his lips for what felt like ages, wondering what it would be like to have them on yours. Now, reality was proving to be even better than fantasy. The taste of him, the way his lips moved in sync with yours, how he seemed to know just when to pull back and when to dive in again. It was everything you’d hoped for and more.

His nose bumped into yours as you both tried to find the right angle, and your teeth clashed together with a sharp, jarring click. It should’ve hurt, should’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t. It only made you both more eager, more desperate to keep going. Alex could’ve bitten your lip clean off, and you wouldn’t have cared. The alcohol would’ve dulled the sting. It made everything feel a little fuzzy around the edges, and besides, his tongue was already in your mouth, exploring, tasting, claiming.

Your hands were in his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating through your body, igniting something deep inside you. The way he kissed you, firm, yet somehow gentle, like he was pouring all the things he couldn’t say into that one connection, made you want to melt right there in his arms.

The heat between you was almost overwhelming, the air in the room thick with the scent of sweat and cheap vodka, but neither of you cared. All that mattered was the feel of his body beneath yours, the way he seemed to fit against you perfectly, the way his hands roamed up your back, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.

The past, the future, none of it mattered. All that existed was now, the taste of his lips on yours, the feel of his skin under your fingertips, and the way you both moved together, lost in the drunken haze of it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought you heard the door creak open. It was a faint sound, barely registering over the rush of blood in your ears and the muffled beat of music still playing in the distance. You were too wrapped up in Alex, too absorbed in the way he made you feel, to care whether it was real or just your imagination.

But then, more sounds started filtering through. Voices. Excited, disbelieving, and unmistakably familiar. They broke into the bubble you’d created around yourselves.

“Oh my god!” one voice squealed, a mix of shock and glee, and then another, louder one: “Shut uppp! Is that Turner?” someone else hissed, their tone somewhere between amused and scandalised.

The realization hit you like a bucket of cold water, but before you could fully react, a louder, more authoritative voice cut through the growing chatter. “Seven minutes are up!”

Dee.

You recognized her voice instantly, but you still didn’t pull away. Neither did Alex. His hand, which had somehow found its way to your ass during the heat of the moment, stayed right where it was, gripping you. The interruption barely registered for either of you, the kiss still going strong despite the growing commotion at the door.

Annoyance flared up inside you. How could they ruin this moment? Without even breaking the kiss, you reached to your left, your fingers finding the edge of a pillow. You grabbed it and, without looking, hurled it in the direction of the door. You didn’t care if it hit someone or just flopped uselessly to the floor. You just wanted them to get the hint and leave.

The pillow made a soft thud, followed by a chorus of giggles and a few more muffled exclamations. The door creaked again, this time closing with a finality that made you believe they’d actually taken the hint. You could still hear the echo of Dee’s laughter, but it was fading now, becoming part of the background noise, just another element of the night that you could forget about.

As soon as you were alone again, the tension melted back into the room, the heat between you two reigniting. The interruption had done nothing to dampen whatever was simmering between you. If anything, it made you more determined to reclaim the moment.

Alex’s hand flexed on your ass, pulling you closer, reminding you that you were still here, still together, still in this. His lips moved against yours, softer now, but no less insistent, like he was savouring the taste of you. You responded in kind, your hands tangling in his hair again, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth, sending a shiver down your spine.

You were still in control, still straddling him, but the way he kissed you back, hungry, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough, made you feel like you were the one who was losing ground, who was being swept away in the tide of emotions that you could barely understand, let alone control.

Alex’s lips finally broke away from yours, and he sucked in a ragged, desperate gasp. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and steady himself, his mouth previously too preoccupied by yours to do its actual job and his nose so squished up against your face it was utterly useless. He blinked up at you, dazed, like he was still trying to process everything that had just happened. His lips were swollen and tinged pink from the intensity of the kiss, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at you, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief.

“You’re pretty.” he managed to say, his voice barely more than a whisper, low and a little hoarse, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. The words tumbled out almost unthinkingly, but they were sincere. In the dim light, with your flushed cheeks and tousled hair, you looked impossibly beautiful to him. His eyes were wide, and if he’d been a cartoon character, there would’ve been hearts floating around his head right then.

You smiled, biting your lip as you leaned in closer. “Pretty enough to suck you off?” you asked, the words slipping out casually, almost like you were asking about the weather.

For a second, it was like someone had hit pause on the world. The haze of lust that had clouded his mind lifted just enough for him to register what you’d said, and he blinked at you in confusion, his brain scrambling to catch up.

“What?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t hesitate, didn’t even flinch. “Your dick.” you repeated, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Can I suck it?”

His brain short-circuited for a moment. He was sure he must have misheard, that maybe the vodka was playing tricks on his ears. “What?” he asked again, dumbly.

“You’re hard.” you said, your tone matter-of-fact, like you were pointing out something as obvious as the sky being blue.

The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. He hadn’t even noticed it himself, too lost in the heat of the moment to register the way his body had responded to you. But now that you’d pointed it out, it was impossible to ignore. He could feel it, the unmistakable pressure straining against his jeans, and more importantly, he knew that you could feel it too. Embarrassment flooded his system, a hot flush creeping up his neck as he realised that you were fully aware of the effect you had on him.

“Oh.” was all he could manage. His eyes flicked down, taking in the way you were straddling him, the way your bodies were pressed so close together that there was no way you hadn’t felt it.

Before he could even think of a response, your hands were already moving to his zipper, fingers working to undo his jeans. His mind was still reeling, trying to process what was happening, but his body reacted instinctively. He didn’t protest, didn’t try to stop you, because how could he? He’d have to be out of his mind to say no to this. The thought of saying no to this, to you, was so ridiculous it didn’t even cross his mind.

It wasn’t like it was his first time getting a blowjob or anything. That had happened a while ago, back when he was still tutoring Jenny. His mind flashed back to her now. Jay, as he used to call her, for reasons he couldn’t quite remember. She’d been his first, the first girl to ever put her mouth on him like this. It had happened during one of those tutoring sessions that were more about anything but tutoring. One thing had led to another, and suddenly their study sessions had turned into something very different. He’d help her with her homework, or just do it for her really, and in return, she’d go down on him. Homework, blowjob, simple as that. A straightforward, almost transactional, arrangement. It had made him feel a little like a slut at first, but he’d gotten over it eventually. They both got what they wanted, so what did it matter?

But this was different. This wasn’t a transactional thing, a quid-pro-quo. This was you, the girl he’d been sneaking glances at for ages, the one he’d been hoping would notice him in the same way he’d noticed you. And now here you were, your hands already sliding his zipper down, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans. There was no homework, no transaction, just a burning need that neither of you could ignore.

As you tugged his zipper down, the sound was sharp in the quiet room, and Alex swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were the one doing this, and that he was about to let you. But your fingers brushed against him and any lingering doubts evaporated, replaced by a singular, overwhelming thought.

He’d be a fucking idiot to say no.

His heart pounded in his chest, so loud he was sure you could hear it, and he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He couldn’t think of anything to say, anything that would make sense, so he just let himself fall back into the moment, his breath hitching as your hand found its way inside his jeans.

You were right. He was hard, painfully so now that you were touching him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back the groan building in his throat. His head fell back against the wall, his hands fisting in the sheets as he gave in to the sensations washing over him, and all he could think was that he’d never been more grateful to be here, in this room, with you.

You slid off the bed, the mattress shifting as your weight left it, and knelt down on the floor in front of him. The carpet was rough against your knees, but you barely noticed, too focused on what was about to happen. Alex shifted to the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide and his jeans hanging open, pushed down just enough to free his erection. He leaned back on his arms, eyes locked on you, his mouth slightly open, still processing the reality of what you were about to do.

His mind was spinning, a chaotic mix of arousal and disbelief. It was like a fever dream, the kind that felt so real you almost didn’t want to wake up, and his body was caught up in the heat of it, his cock throbbing with need. He could feel it, how hard he was, how desperate, and the way you were looking at him only made it worse. Every nerve in his body was screaming for attention and you were the only one who could give it to him.

“Fuck.” he breathed out, the word slipping from his lips before he could even think. It was all he could say, all he could think. The anticipation was killing him, the seconds stretching out as your lips hovered just above his tip, your breath warm against him.

And then, finally, you kissed the tip of his cock, a soft, teasing brush of your lips that sent a jolt of pleasure through his entire body. His breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation washed over him. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. His body was screaming for more, and before he could stop himself, his hand was in your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he pushed you down.

If he had been sober, he might have hesitated, might have been more careful, more considerate. But the alcohol had stripped away his inhibitions, leaving nothing but raw need. You were offering yourself to him, and he couldn’t take any teasing, any slow build-up. He needed you. Needed your mouth, your touch, everything you were willing to give him. And he needed it now.

You didn’t resist, letting him guide you down, taking him deeper into your mouth. The feeling of your lips wrapped around him, your tongue flicking against the sensitive underside of his shaft, was almost too much to handle. A low groan escaped him, his head falling back as his hips jerked forward involuntarily, pushing himself further into your mouth.

“Fuck…” he breathed again, the word barely audible this time, more of a gasp than anything. His mind was reeling, lost in the sensation, in the way your mouth felt so fucking good around him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel. Feel the way you were sucking him, the way your tongue moved against him, the wet heat of your mouth driving him closer and closer.

His grip on your hair tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place, to keep you exactly where he needed you. He knew he was being rough, knew that he was taking more than he was giving, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was too far gone, too wrapped up in the haze of lust and alcohol to care about anything other than the mind-blowing pleasure you were giving him.

Every time you took him deeper, he felt like he was going to lose it, like he was about to explode. His hips kept moving, his body acting on instinct, chasing the high, the release that was building up inside him with every passing second. It was overwhelming and he couldn’t get enough.

His breath was coming in ragged gasps now, his chest heaving as he fought to hold on, to make this moment last as long as possible. But it was a losing battle, and he knew it. The way you were sucking him, the way your mouth moved around him, it was too much, too perfect, and he was too close.

As if all the tension inside him snapped at once, Alex came hard into your mouth, without any warning. No groan of impending release, no frantic grip on your hair, not even a gasp. It was sudden, almost catching him by surprise as much as it did you. The warm, salty taste of his cum flooded your mouth, thick and overwhelming. For a brief moment, you savoured it, the taste of him mixed with the heat of the moment.

But then, as the reality of it set in, something shifted inside you. The warmth of his cum combined with its slimy texture suddenly made your stomach churn violently. The alcohol you’d been drinking all night, which had been simmering quietly in the background, now surged to the forefront, bringing with it a wave of nausea that you couldn’t ignore. Panic gripped you as the sick feeling intensified. The last thing you wanted was to vomit on him. Or anywhere near him for that matter.

Your body moved on instinct. You pulled away from him quickly, a soft gag escaping you as you scrambled to your feet. Without even thinking, you bolted for the bathroom attached to his room, the door banging open as you rushed inside. You barely made it to the toilet in time, spitting out his cum before your body betrayed you, the contents of your stomach following shortly after.

You could hear him in the distance, but his voice was faint, almost like it was coming from another room entirely. Alex was still too dazed, too caught up in the post-orgasmic haze to fully register what was happening.

He heard the sounds coming from the bathroom. Gagging, retching. But his brain was too foggy to process them properly. All he could do was lay there, his body too heavy, his limbs too leaden with exhaustion to move. The alcohol in his own system wasn’t helping either. Every time he thought about getting up, his stomach churned in warning, a reminder that if he got too close to you right now, he’d probably end up puking right alongside you.

So he stayed put, collapsing back onto the bed with a groan. Reality was starting to creep back in, bringing with it the uncomfortable awareness of his surroundings and the mess of the night.

With a sigh, Alex reached down to shove his softening cock back into his jeans. His movements were sluggish, his fingers fumbling with the denim as he tried to pull his jeans back up over his hips. The waistband caught awkwardly, resisting his half-hearted attempts to zip them up. After a moment of struggling, he gave up, leaving the zipper undone.

What was the point, anyway? It didn’t seem worth the effort to fix it. You’d already seen everything there was to see. The thought made his cheeks flush slightly, but it was hard to care too much. The embarrassment that might have flooded him in a sober moment was dulled.

He let his jeans rest loosely around his hips, the zipper gaping open but ignored. Instead, he let himself fall back against the bed, too drained to do much else. He could feel everything sloshing around inside him, the alcohol threatening to come back up if he wasn’t careful. He focused on breathing, slow and steady, willing himself to keep everything down, to avoid joining you in the bathroom for what would be an absolutely humiliating scenario for the both of you.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep. The line between being awake and unconscious blurred until it didn’t matter anymore, the exhaustion pulling him under without a fight. But somewhere in the middle of the night, he stirred, half-aware of the sound of the bathroom door creaking open and the soft shuffling of feet on the carpet.

You returned to bed, your movements careful and hesitant as you slipped back under the covers beside him. You said something, soft, slurred words that he couldn’t quite catch, but that didn’t seem to matter. He heard enough to know you were there, that you hadn’t left. He remembered muttering something back to you, vague words of reassurance or maybe an apology, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he could feel the comforting warmth of your body as you curled up next to him.

In the half-light of the room, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You fit perfectly against him, your head nestled against his chest. He let out a slow breath, his body relaxing into yours as sleep pulled him under again.

The next morning, Alex woke up with a groan, his body stiff and aching in ways that only a night of drinking could cause. His bare back was yet again pressed uncomfortably against the cold, scratchy wall, and he shifted slightly, trying to ease the discomfort. He felt oddly cramped, pinned in place, but he couldn’t immediately figure out why.

He blinked his eyes open, wincing at the dull light filtering through the curtains. His head throbbed, a steady, painful reminder of the vodka that had fueled the night before. As he tried to move, he realised with a start that there was something, or rather, someone, pressed up against him. His heart skipped a beat as his mind scrambled to piece together the events of the previous night.

Slowly, the fog in his brain began to clear. He looked down and saw you curled up against his chest, your body warm and soft against him. The sight of you there triggered a rush of memories: the games, the kiss, the bathroom, and finally, you coming back to bed and settling in next to him. That much made sense. And it made him smile to himself.

But as his senses sharpened, he realised that there was another body on the other side of you.

Confused, he craned his neck to see over you, and that’s when he spotted his roommate, cramped in the small space beside you, sound asleep. Alex stared at the guy for a long moment, trying to piece together how the hell he’d ended up there. His brain was still too muddled to remember his assigned roommate’s name right now, though he vaguely recalled some conversation about sharing the bed. But that seemed like a lifetime ago.

“What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath, trying to make sense of the situation.

He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but all it did was make the situation even more awkward. His roommate didn’t stir, completely passed out, oblivious to the uncomfortable tension that was making Alex’s skin crawl.

He stared at him, a mix of irritation and disbelief washing over him. Couldn’t he take the hint? He finally had a girl in his bed, for once, and this guy was just sprawled out there, completely oblivious. “Ugh.” he groaned, the frustration slipping out in a low, exasperated sound.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the lingering fog in his head. If he wasn’t so hungover, he might’ve had the presence of mind to consider that Oliver, yeah, that was his name, he remembered now, was probably just as plastered as he was, if not more. In that state, it wasn’t like he would’ve noticed or cared about anything happening on the bed.

Still, it didn’t make the situation any less annoying.

Alex shifted again, trying to make more room for himself and you, but the cramped space only amplified the awkwardness. He bit back another groan, forcing himself to stay calm even as his mind raced with frustration. All he wanted was a moment alone with you, a chance to figure out what the hell this night meant, but instead, he was stuck with a third wheel passed out beside him.

Great, he thought, his annoyance bubbling up again. This was definitely not how he pictured the morning after.

But then you stirred beside him, your hand brushing against his chest as you snuggled closer, and his annoyance faded just a bit.

a/n: last thing i have in my drafts that i like 😓 based on these requests x & x

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

#fetus alex turner #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #smut #goblinontour

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gf2bellamy · 1 month ago

Text

misunderstanding — jonah simms

pairing: jonah simms x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: there has been a misunderstanding causing everyone to think that you and jonah are dating content warnings: nothing a/n: i've been rewatching superstore and i'm in love w jonah ( again)

You stepped into the break room, the faint smell of burnt food and bad coffee hitting you immediately. With a sigh, you shrugged off your jacket and hung it on the hook by the door, clutching your steaming cup of coffee.

Sliding into one of the chairs, you unlocked your phone and started scrolling aimlessly, barely paying attention to anything around you. But after a moment, the eerie silence of the room began to sink in. You stopped mid-scroll and glanced up.

Everyone was staring at you.

“Uh…” you hesitated, your voice breaking the awkward quiet. Your eyes landed on Cheyenne, who was sitting across the room, her gaze darting nervously between you and the others.

And then, like clockwork, she burst out laughing—a high-pitched, nervous giggle that only made the situation weirder.

“What’s going on?” you asked, setting your phone down on the table and looking around at the room full of wide-eyed coworkers. No one said anything, but the whispering started almost immediately.

Before anyone could answer, Jonah walked into the room, his usual energy breaking the tension. “Good morning!” he called out brightly, completely oblivious to the strange vibe.

He plopped down at your table, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He flashed you a quick smile before taking a sip of his coffee, but his expression shifted when he noticed the stares and murmurs.

“What’s with everyone?” Jonah asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced around.

You shrugged, your confusion matching his. “I have no idea. I walked in, and… this was happening.” You gestured vaguely toward the rest of the break room, where people were now pretending to look busy, though not very convincingly.

You were halfway through your coffee when Glenn and Dina marched into the break room, Glenn looking particularly chipper while Dina stood with her usual air of judgmental detachment. The room went quiet as Glenn clapped his hands together, his face practically glowing.

“Before I start with today’s announcements,” Glenn began, his voice full of warmth, “I just want to say… congratulations!”

You blinked, taken aback, as Glenn beamed at you and Jonah like a proud dad at a graduation. “I’m so incredibly happy for the two of you! It’s just so beautiful when coworkers find… connection.” His voice wavered with emotion as if he might actually cry.

You and Jonah exchanged wide-eyed glances, equally baffled.

Jonah cleared his throat and raised a hand. “Uh, Glenn? What exactly are you talking about?”

Glenn froze mid-sentence, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him. “What? Oh, you know!” He chuckled nervously, gesturing between the two of you.

“No,” Jonah said, sitting up straighter. “We really, really don’t.”

At that moment, Sandra, who had been lurking near the vending machine, shifted uncomfortably. Glenn noticed her and smiled even wider. “Sandra told me the big news! She said she overheard you two talking and that you're now together. Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?”

“Wait, what?” you blurted, your cheeks burning. Everyone was now staring at the two of you.

Jonah’s face turned as red as the break room couch. “That’s… no, that’s not—what?!” He started gesturing wildly, his words tumbling over each other. “I-I don’t even—where would she—? That’s not—Sandra, what did you hear?”

Sandra stepped forward, wringing her hands. “Well… you were talking about, um, spending more time together outside of work? And then you said something about how you ‘work well together as a team.’” She paused, looking down. “And then I thought I heard Jonah say, ‘Maybe it’s time we just admit it.’”

Jonah let out a strangled laugh. “No! I was talking about the inventory system! I said, ‘Maybe it’s time we admit it’s broken!’”

Sandra looked unsure. “Oh. That makes more sense.”

Glenn clasped his hands over his heart. “So… you’re not in love?”

“No!” Jonah and you said in unison, though Jonah’s voice cracked halfway through.

Glenn’s face fell. “Oh. Well, that’s disappointing. But still, no pressure! Love blossoms when it’s meant to.” He smiled at Dina, who rolled her eyes so hard you thought she might sprain something.

Meanwhile, Jonah was still floundering. “I mean, not that it would—it’s not like it would be bad if—” He tripped over his words, gesturing vaguely in your direction. “You’re—you’re great! Obviously! But, uh, no, we’re not… you know… a thing.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching with amusement despite your own embarrassment. “Thanks, Jonah. Really cleared that up.”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just saying… you know… hypothetically, it wouldn’t be, like, crazy—”

Dina cut in with a dry snort. “Wow. Watching you implode is more entertaining than I thought it’d be.”

Glenn, oblivious to the awkward tension, clapped his hands again. “Well, even if it’s not true, I’m still so proud of how well you two work together! Now, let’s get back to work!”

As Glenn and Dina walked out, Jonah let out a heavy sigh, slumping in his chair. “That was… mortifying.”

You smirked, leaning toward him. “So… it wouldn’t be crazy, huh?”

His face turned beet red again as he stammered, “That’s not—I didn’t—don’t twist my words!”

You laughed, sipping your coffee. “Relax, Jonah. It was just a misunderstanding. No big deal.”

But as you got up to leave, Jonah found himself staring at your retreating figure, his heart beating a little faster than he’d like to admit. Maybe Sandra’s misinterpretation wasn’t entirely crazy after all.

#jonah simms x reader #jonah simms #superstore #superstore fanfiction #superstore fanfic #jonah simms angst #jonah simms x you #jonah simms fanfic #jonah simms fanfiction #jonah simms fluff

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widowromanova · 24 days ago

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Sniper (Part 3) - Natasha x Female reader

warnings: violence, mentions of trafficking, smut

word count: 4072

Your apartment was dark when you stepped inside, the faint hum of the city below seeping through the windows. You set your equipment down carefully, your body heavy with exhaustion, but your mind was restless. Natasha was still there, pulling at the edges of your resolve.

You flicked on a single lamp, the warm light spilling across the room, illuminating the cluttered space. It wasn’t much - a temporary safehouse, nothing personal about it - except for one thing.

Crossing the room, you opened a drawer in the desk, your hands moving with practiced ease. Beneath a stack of forged documents and old mission files, you found the envelope. It was worn, the edges frayed from years of handling. You slid out the contents with a sharp exhale.

Photographs. There weren’t many - just a handful of moments you’d dared to capture in secret. You and Natasha at a café in Prague, her sunglasses tilted down just enough to catch the knowing smirk on her lips. A blurry shot of her laughing, mid-movement, during an impromptu rooftop training session. And one you’d taken without her knowing, her head resting on her hand, staring out a window as the sunlight painted her hair a deep, fiery red.But as you sifted through the drawer, your stomach dropped. The envelope was empty.

You froze, the implications slamming into you all at once. Someone had taken them.

Your pulse spiked, and you scanned the room, your instincts kicking in. The locks had shown no sign of tampering, no sign anyone had been here.

A faint chill ran down your spine. Natasha. It had to be. She’d always been meticulous, always left her mark in subtle ways. This wasn’t just about stealing pieces of the past. And you didn’t need to guess what it meant.

Moving to the window, you peered out into the night, your reflection staring back at you. Somewhere out there, she was watching, reminding you that she was always a step ahead. You clenched your fists, frustration swirling in your chest. If she thought she could rattle you, she was right. But if she thought you’d back down, she had no idea what was coming.

Natasha’s fall from grace hadn’t been a sudden plunge; it was slow, deliberate.

Years ago, before she became the Natasha Romanoff the world whispered about in fear, you both had been sent to dismantle an underground trafficking ring tied to a corrupt faction of global elites. This time, things had gone terribly wrong.

The operation had uncovered something darker than either of you expected: children, families, entire communities destroyed as pawns in a game played by the most powerful people in the world. The mission was supposed to be surgical - quick and clean - but Natasha saw firsthand how deep the rot went. She witnessed the perpetrators walk free, their wealth and influence shielding them from justice.

“I thought we were here to make a difference,” she had told you after the mission. Her voice had been cold, detached, but her eyes betrayed her anger beneath. “But all we’re doing is putting out fires while the whole system burns.”

You tried to reason with her, to remind her that the work you did mattered, that the small victories added up. But for Natasha, it wasn’t enough. She had given everything to SHIELD, sacrificed her freedom, only to find that the system she served was just as flawed as the ones she fought against.

Then came the final straw: a mission debrief where she learned that SHIELD had cut a deal with one of the very men she had worked to bring down. For “greater strategic advantage,” they said. Fury had been tight-lipped, dodging her questions with practiced indifference.

That night, you found her in the training room, her fists bloody from hours of beating a punching bag to shreds.

“They’re just like the rest of them,” she’d said, her voice breaking for the first time in years. “They don’t care who gets hurt, as long as they keep their power.”

You’d stayed silent, unable to argue. Deep down, you’d felt it too - the cracks in the moral high ground you thought SHIELD stood on.

After that, Natasha started to pull away. She became more withdrawn, her trust in SHIELD - and in you - eroding by the day. Until one day, she was gone. No warning, no explanation.

It wasn’t until years later, when you were sent to track down a rogue operative targeting high-level government officials, that you realized where she had gone. Natasha had shifted her loyalty to no one but herself. She wasn’t just dismantling the corrupt systems; she was taking the innocent down with the guilty.

To her, this wasn’t about revenge or chaos. It was about control, about rebuilding a world where no one could ever be used or manipulated again. At least, that’s what she told herself. But as much as she believed in her vision, a part of you knew she’d lost something along the way - her humanity, her hope, and maybe even the heart you knew so well.

"You know where to find me." The words echoed in your mind as you made your way through the darkened streets, every step pulling you closer to that rooftop.

The building loomed ahead, its sleek, glass facade reflecting the muted glow of the city lights. You hadn’t been back here in years. The gala that night had been your first real taste of Natasha’s world - not the spy, not the assassin, but the woman. The woman who had looked at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes and whispered seo many sweet things to you.

Now, the thought of her waiting for you on that rooftop twisted something deep in your chest. Was she taunting you? Testing you? Was this her way of closing a chapter that had been left wide open?

You slipped through the building’s side entrance, moving quickly and quietly. The elevator was too obvious, too vulnerable, so you took the stairs, your footsteps light as you ascended.

By the time you reached the rooftop, your pulse was thrumming in your ears, but not from exertion. Your eyes fixed on the figure standing near the edge.

She stood with her back to you, her red hair catching the faint glow of the rooftop lighting. She was dressed in black, her silhouette sharp against the cityscape. For a moment, you simply watched her, the memories crashing into you with brutal clarity: the first time she had kissed you, the way her laughter had carried on the wind, the fire in her eyes when she’d whispered promises you both knew you couldn’t keep.

“You came,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence. She didn’t turn, but you could hear the knowing smile in her tone.

“You said I’d know where to find you,” you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind inside.

She chuckled softly, the sound sending a familiar shiver down your spine. "I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to resist."

Natasha finally turned, her gaze meeting yours. She shuffled through papers, your photos. Those emerald eyes held an old fire. She tilted her head, studying you.

"You've changed."

Her tone was light, almost casual, but the words landed like a blow. She took a step closer.

"You're more confident," she said, her voice taking on a more calculated tone.

You didn't respond, your muscles tensing automatically as she came to a stop right in front of you. She was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from her body. "You've learned to keep your emotions in control," she added, her gaze never leaving yours. She reached out, her fingertips tracing the edge of your jaw. It took all your willpower not to flinch. "Good for you, Y/N." She smiled, almost sincerely.

You swallowed, struggling to maintain your composure. "You didn't bring me all the way up here to critique my emotional skills, Natasha," you murmured.

She paused. "What makes you think I brought you up here?" she smiled wryly.

She stepped back, "You came up the stairs on your own, did you not?" She moved away with a grace that was almost feral, every gesture calculated and filled with deliberate intent.

"Maybe you just wanted to see me again," she paused, "or maybe I wanted to see you."

Her eyes flicked over you with a familiarity that made your skin crawl. "You're still trying to read me," she said, circling you. "After all these years, you still think you know exactly what I'm going to say." She stopped behind you, her breath warm on your neck, just like it had been so many times before.

"That's the problem," she whispered, too close, too real, her voice echoing in your ears. "You think you know me."

You tensed, anticipating her next move, but instead, she laughed, low and dark. "God, you're so predictable."

You clenched your fists, feeling your knuckles lightly click. She looked down, scoffing.

"Still wearing those brass knuckles, I see," she said, her tone mocking, "always expecting a fight."

She moved forward, her steps silent, closing the distance between you again. "But that won't save you here.. baby" she mused, coming to a stop, her body nearly touching yours. "I know your moves, your... soft spots."

The word sent a jolt through you. She hadn't called you that in years. But you schooled your expression, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. "Not anymore," you said, keeping your voice steady.

"You don't know anything about me anymore."

For the first time since the start of this encounter, Natasha's smile faltered, a shadow passing over her eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a hardened edge. "Is that so?" she said, the words laced with a dangerous calm. "Let's test that theory, shall we?"

Before you could respond, she moved again. This time, her attack was more subtle, but no less deadly. Her fist aimed at your stomach, calculated to catch you off guard. You reacted just in time, dodging to the side and throwing a counter of your own. But Natasha was anticipating it, her hand catching your wrist in an iron grip.

She twisted your arm, using your momentum to pull you forward, and suddenly you were pressed against her. You could feel the heat emanating from her body, her muscles tensed with lethal power. "You fight just how you used to, Y/N" she murmured, her breath tickling your ear as she scoffed. She sucker-punched you in the stomach, winding you as you flew back away from her.

"Too predictable," she smirked, watching you catch your breath. You pushed yourself back up, gritting your teeth against the pain blossoming in your stomach. "Why are you still holding back, Y/N?" she shouted, raising her arms in an exclamatory gesture, "Don't you have something to prove?"

She was goading you, trying to get under your skin, to get you to drop your guard. But you weren't going to give her the satisfaction. "I have nothing to prove to you, Natasha," you said coldly, your body poised for her next attack. Her eyes narrowed, her smile turning darker. She lunged forward, her speed and precision still unmatched, and you barely managed to dodge. Her hands moved with a fluid grace and you could see it in her eyes; she was holding nothing back.

She landed a blow to your face, knocking your jaw loose. Blood trickled out of your nose. The pain and force of it made your head spin. You stumbled back, trying to clear your vision, your face stinging with each hit. Natasha paused, her smirk growing as she saw the blood streaming down your face. She was enjoying this. She relaxed, unclenching her fists to inspect your blood on them. She watched you struggle to stand, a cruel satisfaction in her eyes. "I thought you'd be more of a challenge," she said, a slight edge of disappointment in her voice.

She came closer again, moving in slow, predatory strides. "You were always so promising," she continued, her hand coming up to touch your chin, tilting your face up to hers. "But you've gotten soft. You've lost your edge."

As your eyes look up to meet hers, something in her falters. For a moment, a flicker of... something passes over her face. It's gone so quickly, you're not sure if it was even there. Her hand moves down to your bruised jaw, her touch surprisingly gentle as she examines the damage. "Still beautiful, though," she murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Her thumb brushes over your bleeding lip, "So soft," she breathed, her eyes still locked on yours, an unexpected intensity in them. For a moment, it's just the two of you. She's too close, too real, and far too familiar.

You take her hand off your face, moving away from her, your breathing becoming more heavy at the realisation of how much you miss her. Her hand drops limply to her side, her eyes cold again. "You've always been stubborn," she said, the sharpness back in her voice. "Stubborn and too damn loyal."

At that moment, she strode up to you, grabbing your face to crash her lips into yours. The kiss took you by surprise, sending an electric shock through your body. It was rough, desperate, filled with years of pent-up emotions you had tried to bury. Her fingers twisted in your hair, her body pressing against yours with a familiar, burning heat. And you let her. You couldn't, no, you didn't want to, push her away. Not when the taste of her lips was still the same as you remembered, not when the feel of her body against yours felt like coming home. Your mind was telling you to resist, but your heart was singing.

She moved her mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that sent chills down your spine. "I've missed this." She pushed you back against a wall, pinning you against it, her body a solid mass of lean muscle and heat. Her hands traveled lower, slipping underneath your shirt, her touch setting your already heightened senses on fire.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" she said, her mouth returning to yours. Her body was pressing into you, her fingers digging into your sides hard enough to leave bruises. But it was a pain you welcomed. Your bodies melded together, fitting against each other in a way that felt achingly familiar.

You wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. Your free hand found its way to the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in her fiery hair. The kiss deepened, becoming more heated, more desperate. Her body writhed against yours, her hands roving freely, reacquainting themselves with every curve and angle of your body.

You span, making sure to painfully slam her into the wall as revenge for her earlier punch. She gasped, her lips breaking away from yours for a moment, more from surprise than pain. She caught her breath, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. "There she is," she smirked, her voice slightly hoarse, pulling you back into a kiss.

Your hand began sliding down her body, making its way into her underwear. She moaned against your lips, her body arching into your touch. "Y/N..." She breathed, her control starting to slip.Her hands gripped your hips, her nails digging into your skin, as her body reacted to your touch. "Shh, just please," your fingers softly traced circles, "don't say anything."

Her body shivered, the circles you traced sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She opened her mouth to speak, to say your name, but then thought better of it, biting her lip to keep any sound from escaping. Her eyes closed, her head tilting back, exposing the pale expanse of her throat to your gaze. Your fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements, each stroke bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Her breathing grew heavier, every exhale a soft gasp, as she tried to keep herself together.

You added a finger, stretching her out deliciously. She couldn't hold back a gasp, her hands clenching against your hips."God, Y/N..." she panted, her voice strained, "please..." You could see the desperation in her eyes, the need that mirrored your own. But you continued your slow, relentless pace, enjoying the power you had over her.

"Beg," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Her body convulsed, a shudder running through her. She was falling apart, her control slipping faster than you thought possible. "Please," she gasped, "please... don't stop."

You rewarded her plea by increasing your speed, driving her closer to the edge. She was unraveling, her body trembling under your touch. Her hands moved to your shoulders, her grip tight enough to bruise, her nails digging into your skin. It was as if she was holding onto you, the only lifeline left in her crumbling world.

She whimpered, her body so close yet not quite there. She was balancing on the edge, ready to fall. "Look at me," she commanded, her lips close to your ear.

You lifted your gaze, meetings hers, "I need those eyes of yours on me." Her voice was filled with a mixture of command and pleading, a silent request to keep watching her as she fell apart under your touch. She let out a moan, her body tensing, her control wavering. "I'm...I'm-" she gasped, unable to finish the sentence.

"You're, what, Natasha?" you whispered into her neck.

The effect was more than you expected. Her body jerked, her back arching as a wave of pleasure washed over her. A strangled cry escaped her lips, a sound filled with need. She repeated your name, a breathless litany, her voice becoming hoarse from the effort of holding back the sounds that were threatening to spill over. Her body shook, her hands holding onto your arm muscles. The sight of her, so undone, was almost too much. You wanted to imprint this moment in your brain, to hold onto it as a reminder of the power you had over her.

As she slowly came back down from the high, her body shuddering with aftershocks, her eyes opened again, fixing on you. She looked wrecked, her hair a mess, her cheeks flushed, her breathing ragged. But there was something else there, too. A vulnerability that she rarely showed. Her gaze searched yours, her chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. For a moment, words were unnecessary, the silence filled by the sound of your shared breaths and the rapid beating of your hearts.

Then, slowly, she found her voice again, her words soft but still hoarse. "That was..."She paused, trying to compose herself. "That was more than I expected," she said, a hint of a smirk curving her lips.

"What were you expecting?" you replied.

She pushed herself up off the wall, her legs still shaky but steady enough to hold her weight. She stepped closer to you, her body millimeters from yours, her proximity making it hard for you to think straight. "I expected you to fight me," she said, her voice sultry. "Not to... make me beg."

Her hands found their way to your waist, her fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. "But I won't lie," she murmured, her lips close to your ear, "I liked it."

She tilted her head to look at you, her eyes dark, "You've always been good, Y/N." You meet her gaze, a confused yet amused expression on your face, "In what way?"

Her fingers began a slow trail across your collarbone, "Every way," she said. Her touch was light, a teasing caress that made your skin tingle, "You were always so kind, so gentle..." Her fingers trailed along your body as she looked down at the floor, "You always tried to see the best in everyone, even me."

"Especially you."

She paused at that, a flash of vulnerability in her eyes, her fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin. "I don't deserve it," she muttered, her voice softer, "Your loyalty, your compassion."

Her touch continued, the patterns becoming more purposeful, as if she was trying to imprint the feel of you on her fingertips. "But you give it anyway," she said quietly, "No matter how much I push, you keep giving." Her eyes returned to yours, softer. "Why?" she asked, the question loaded. "After everything, why do you keep giving me chances?"

You knew the answer, of course. You knew why you still cared, why you couldn't let her go. But saying it out loud would make it real, so you deflected, "Why did you come back?"

She seemed to have expected that response, her lips curling into a soft smirk. "Isn't it obvious?" she said, her fingers moving up the side of your body, over your ribs, each touch sending chills down your spine. "I couldn't stay away," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her touch moved to your face, her thumb lightly tracing your bottom lip, "I tried. God, I tried. But it was impossible."

A pause.

"I missed you," she murmured, her touch becoming more gentle, her fingers tracing the bruise on your jaw. It was as if she was trying to soothe the pain she inflicted earlier, an unspoken apology. "I know I hurt you," she continued, her eyes still focused on the bruise. "And I know I'm going to hurt you again," she said, her voice tinged with resignation.

"I'm not gonna stop what I've set out to do, Y/N." Her gaze moved back up to yours, her fingers finally dropping from your face, "And you..." she paused, a flicker of conflict in her eyes, "you're still gonna try to stop me."

The statement was more a question than anything else, a silent plea for reassurance she probably didn't deserve. You took a moment, your heart warring with your head, before replying, "I am."

The corners of her lips pulled into a wry smile, "Of course, you are," she said, the resignation thicker in her voice this time. She stepped back, putting some distance between you. It felt wrong, like a physical manifestation of the chasm that seemed to be constantly opening up between the two of you.

"You're so damn loyal to them," she said again, shaking her head as if annoyed with herself. "It's infuriating, you know that?"

"I'm not loyal to them," you clarified, your voice steady. "I'm loyal to what's right," you continued, locking eyes with her.

"And what is right?" she countered, her voice hardening.

"What you're doing.." you said, trying to keep your own emotions in check. "It's not right, Natasha. You know it's not."

Her shoulders stiffened at that, the steel returning to her eyes. "You don't understand." she snapped, the frustration clear in her voice.

"Then make me understand," you retorted. You didn't want to argue, but something about her attitude, her stubbornness, pushed you to press on.

"It's not that simple!" she exploded, her patience finally snapping. She took a step towards you, her eyes locking on yours, "You think I like doing this? Hurting people? Betraying my friends?"

"I know you don't," you said, holding her gaze. "I know you well enough to know you're not a monster, Natasha." Her expression flickered, the anger giving way to something sofer. But she pushed it down, her expression hardening again. She walked towards the edge of the rooftop, looking out across the sea of skyscrapers. She exhaled, watching her breath dissipate into the cold, thin air, before turning her head to say, "Things change."

Natasha suddenly hurls herself off the building, her red hair leaving streaks in the wind. You run to the edge. "Natasha!" you shouted, the word ripping from your throat. You scanned the streets below, the rooftops nearby - anywhere she might have lande -but there was nothing.

She was gone. Again.

You stood there, frozen, the cold night air biting at your skin. But this time, you could tell something else has clicked in her head, that the next time would be different, that maybe you could get through to her and put an end to all of it. You clenched your fists, your mind racing.

You couldn’t let it end like this.

a/n: this has actually turned into more of a story than i intended for it to but only because i am enjoying writing it a lot!!!

let me know if you guys want a part 4 ;)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #lgbt #wlw #marvel #mcu #smut #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow smut

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historyofguns · 6 months ago

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mysewingadventures · 4 months ago

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Making the ✨Lioncourt Gown✨ (Part 4/4)

It's been such a fun project working on the Lioncourt Gown (aka Interview with the Vampire's Lestat de Lioncourt's theater costume -

made into a 1790s women's redingote) and I can finally say that I have finished it. It's done, and I love it. It didn't turn out exactly how I'd planned, but that's how it is with me and sewing. I admire anyone who can just stick to their original plan haha but that person is not me. Usually, when sewing I don't think too far ahead, I just do it until I hit a point where something just isn't working out and have to find a way around it. I'm also self-taught, so my workarounds may not be standard procedures when you actually know what you're doing. But I'm still really, really happy with it, and I did a little photo shoot as soon as it was done.

But anyways, here's the final part of this project.

In my last post, we left off with the still detached but finished collar/yoke and the finished bodice. I attached the yoke to the bodice, and then went on to make the final piece - the outer skirt.

For that, I essentially did the same thing I did with the bodice and the sleeves. I attached the colored satin triangles and stitched them down with the tape. Here is a picture just before I attached the tape:

This process is very time consuming and I had severely underestimated it. I did end up finishing it in a day, but it was the only thing I did that day. You have to stitch super close to the edge or the satin is going to fray and stick out and it's not a pretty look. It did end up happening in a few places, so I had to take the stitches out and redo them. But when that was done, I added red tape to the raw edges of the fabric and finished the skirt.

Then finally, it was time to attach the skirt to the bodice. For that, I gathered it with a quick basting stitch to bring it to the needed width and then had to hand stitch it in place, making sure I was attaching it only to the lining layer so the stitches wouldn't be visible from the right side.

Once that was done, it was time for the first complete try on! For one, I was really excited to see it as a basically completed project, but more importantly, I needed to know where to put the buttons. So I put on all my layers for this (shift, stays, bumroll, two petticoats, the skirt, and the bodice with the outer skirt), and realized... it was a bit smaller than anticipated. It fit, but I'd planned to make it double-breasted and the front panels didn't overlap quite enough to make two button rows possible while keeping them centered. So I ended up deciding in that moment I was only going to do one row of buttons. The original only has one row, so it was fine either way. But while on the topic of buttons, another thing: I'd mentioned in a previous post that I wasn't sure whether to add buttonholes or to fake the closure with hooks and eyes, and I decided to do neither. I was way too scared of the satin fraying if I did button holes and the whole hook and eye system is pretty annoying to do, and since I'm only really gonna wear it once or twice a year I decided to just use some red pins to pin myself into the dress for the day. This protects the satin from fraying and is less work for me. It doesn't look super professional though and while historically accurate for some dresses in the 18th century (some even used to sew themselves, or have someone sew them into their dresses), it was not used on redingotes (as far as I'm aware) for practicality reasons. Redingotes are essentially riding coats and were used primarily outdoors, so buttons was the most common way to close up these types of garments. Still, I did not want to risk ruining the fabric, so I decided to do it this way.

So once I'd figured out where to place the buttons, I sewed them into place. On a side note, I do love the way they look. They're so pretty.

I added four in the front, two on each sleeve and four in the back.

So this is it. It's done.

This was, mostly due to the color details, the most time time-consuming and frankly expensive project I've ever worked on (well, maybe except for my very first dress as I still didn't know what I was doing back then - that one took me literal months hah). But it was so worth it. It's been in my bedroom for a few days now and I smile every time I see it. I still can't believe it's in my possession.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

#fashion history #historical fashion #iwtv #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #amc iwtv #sewing #redingote #georgian fashion #18th century #18th century fashion #18th century dress #1790s #1790s fashion #georgian #fashion

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askagamedev · 8 months ago

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Vertical Slice Breakdown - Dragon Age Veilguard

youtube

It's been a few days since the Dragon Age Veilguard gameplay video was released. I posted a challenge for aspiring developers to identify as many specific features and systems as they could spot. My expertise is in gameplay, so that's where I will be focusing. Expertise on visuals like lighting, rendering, shaders, etc. should be directed elsewhere.

0:22 - In-Game Cinematic with moving cameras 0:30 - Seamless cinematic transfer to gameplay, quest tracking UI element, different walking speeds 0:36 - Interactable element with UI 0:43 - Camera movement - orbital motion, but likely not detachable 0:53 - Party member movement, including waiting for the player as part of an escort sequence 2:08 - Uninteractable NPC actors perform animations 2:13 - Scriptable terrain changes/destruction 2:18 - Scriptable interactions with multiple actors 2:29 - Uninterrupted conversations when transitioning from gameplay to in-game cinematic 2:39 - Context-specific traversal method with special traversal animation (balancing across a thin beam) 2:50 - Small sequence that is likely unloading the last area and loading in data for the next environment. Likely also locks players off from returning to the previous area. 3:22 - Conversation wheel with "personality" icons and paraphrased words 3:39 - Dynamic inventory in game cinematics, show player's items 3:46 - Scripted Player equipment change during cinematic 4:04 - Quest variables (e.g. player background) result in different NPC response 4:27 - Combat UI including current target (four red dots), Combat log 4:30 - Player can jump 4:33 - UI Melee danger indicator for incoming attacks - silver for enemy attacking, gold for shortly impending damage 4:35 - Player can dash/dodge 4:39 - Event log - Items/Loot notification 4:42 - Shooting UI including hit/miss indicator (red reticle), time scaling, arrow charging (rounded purple bar above arrow count), arrow refill cooldown 5:03 - Some kind of special charge/jumping attack 5:09 - XP gain UI, Quest objective completion UI, Quest objective map indicator UI 5:12 - Auto sheath weapons 5:15 - Potion use/Health recovery 5:18 - Recover potions from the environment 5:40 - Quest objective indicator change on approach 5:49 - Ranged attack danger indicator 5:51 - Defensive action (player reflects damage back on ranged attacker) 6:06 - Enemies can be knocked off edges when fatal 6:10 - Destructible objects in combat, can be scripted 6:16 - Some kind of "special" dodge skill with VFX, likely a rogue class skill 6:51 - Second context-specific traversal method (sliding down a slope) also likely a second "can't go back" type of lockoff 7:01 - Action/Command UI (party/self ability commands) 7:06 - Specific skill used, skill cooldown, enemy debuffed + UI (weakened), resource used (purple bar at bottom of screen) 7:07 - Quick use button mapping, likely for controller face buttons 7:09 - Resource bar refills on its own and on attack damage 10:47 - Different kinds of health bars (likely magical shield and armor) 11:59 - Boss UI with both magical shield and armor bars. Not sure what the number 4 there indicates 12:15 - Telegraphed danger zones projected onto the floor 12:22 - Quick recover timing event 14:45 - Conversation option for branching cinematic 14:51 - Follower approval UI event log 18:49 - Destructible object with health bar and UI highlighting

Each of these elements is something that would need to be designed and implemented by someone on the gameplay team working with UI, engineering, and art. See anything I missed? Which did you get?

[Join us on Discord] and/or [Support us on Patreon]

Got a burning question you want answered?

Short questions: Ask a Game Dev on Twitter

Long questions: Ask a Game Dev on Tumblr

Frequent Questions: The FAQ

#Youtube #game feature breakdown #critical analysis #vertical slice

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malicedragoness · 1 year ago

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Nsft Havik Headcanons

Listen up y’all. This is by far, without a doubt, the weirdest thing I have written for this blog. Havik is not for everyone. So please read the warnings before you decide to read.

I don’t know why I’m attracted to this damn zombie man. But goddamnit!

Let me know if y’all want a part 2 or have questions.

WARNINGS: Havik is his own warning, body horror, limb detachment, lots of blood, manic behavior, Havik saying absurd shit.

-At first, he hates your guts when he meets you. He’s not supposed to want you. Owning things and keeping them in line aren’t his philosophy. A relationship feels like confinement and ownership. There shouldn’t be ownership. And yet he wants to keep you to himself.

He hates it. You represent everything he is against and he hates that he wants you. But if you returned his affections, he would keep you close to him and act like a violent guard dog to anyone that gets close to you.

-Havik is a chest guy. It’s not so much for nipples/boobs, but he has an obsession with your heart. He wants to be able to physically touch it and it tortures him that he can’t. So he settles for being as close to it as possible.

Havik favors positions where he can see and feel your chest and salivate over it. His favorite pastime is to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat like a thief trying to crack open a safe.

One thing about being with Havik, you need to get used to some of the absurd shit he says. During sex he’ll comment: “Just one chomp. One good chomp and I’ll be eating your heart out of your body, and sip your life’s blood.”

“I can hear your blood singing to me.”

“So sweet. So forbidden. Please, let me just lick it?”

Once Havik reaches a certain point in your relationship, he will let you physically touch his heart. He opens his chest to show you how fast it beats when you’re around. “Only you can make my heart dance like this.”

Even if you don’t want to touch it, he makes you. In his own delusional way, he’s showing you he trusts you.

-Masochist. It should go without saying that Havik enjoys pain, specifically if you’re the one to inflict it. From simple things like nipple clamps and tight cock rings, to drawing patterns in his skin with a knife. He gets off on you hurting him.

And while he loves pain, Havik would never turn away any tenderness you give him. If you stroke his hair, he’ll rub his head into your hand like a kitten. He will take any form of touch and affection you give. Gentle or cruel.

-Havik is proud of how absurdly flexible and detachable his body is. He can arch his body in different ways and put it in angles that aren’t humanly possible. Sometimes he detaches his head and will watch his body fuck you from across the room. There are times during sex where he has you hold his detached head to your chest while he fucks you, so he can listen to your heart beat.

-Licks your blood like it’s a delicacy. If you’re ever injured in a fight or if you have a cut on your finger, Havik is quick to come lick it. He’ll moan in ecstacy tasting your blood and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Your blood is a shot of adrenaline to his system, and he gets more impatient than usual, and wants to drag you off to fuck you that instant.

-He is loud! There’s no restraint with him. He growls, he moans, he screams, he talks. He can never be quiet. So if you don’t want to be caught in the act, make sure you’re not anywhere public.

-Oral sex can be tricky for him. It’s not that he lacks enthusiasm. Far from it. But with no lips he’s relying heavily on his tongue and fingers to give you pleasure. For men, he circles his tongue around your cock and uses his hands to jerk you off.

-Love bites and nibbles replace all the kisses he could’ve left on your body. After his face got damaged, he realized he prefers it this way. Bite marks litter your skin and he’s all too happy to run his tongue over them.

-Havik experiences bouts of mania after fighting and being covered in blood. When he’s high in his mania, his masochistic tendencies get extreme. He wants you to slice him up, tie him down, pull his hair, torture him by making him cum multiple times so he gets overstimulated. He wants to feel pain.

Eventually, he will rip his arms off to get out of the restraints so he can take out his energy on you. And when he’s in it deep, he’s loud and sets a brutal pace.

“You feel so gooooood! I want to see your brains spill out of your head!”

(Keep in mind, he would never hurt you like that. But he says things in the throes of pleasure.)

When he goes through these episodes, it seems like it lasts for hours before he finally stops. Once he comes down from his high, he is exhausted from the emotional overload. He’ll cling onto you, shaking and crying. Desperate for an anchor as he rides the waves of his mental crash, loving the feel of you petting his hair.

-After being together for a while, he’ll break off one of his fingers and give it to you. Havik won’t grow it back. He puts it on a cord for you to wear around your neck. It’s his way of proposing to you. No matter where you go, you always have a piece of him.

#MK Havik #havik #havik x reader

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winxanity-ii · 5 months ago

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⌜I Love, Robot | Chapter 06 Chapter 06 | directive override⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

As you helped Andy to his feet, his body still shuddering from the aftereffects of the stun baton, you could feel the tension in the air between the group.

Rain moved toward the locked door, her steps urgent, her voice cracking with desperation. "Andy! Andy! Open the door!" Rain's voice trembled, her hand pounding against the cold, metallic surface of the airlock, as if her plea alone could unlock it.

Andy's reboot had been slow. His expression was still blank, as though his systems were struggling to catch up with the situation. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice soft but devoid of its usual warmth. "I couldn't stop them."

Rain's eyes flashed with panic as she heard Tyler's voice call out to Bjorn. "Bjorn? What's going on?" Tyler's voice was sharp as he heard Bjorn's erratic breathing on the other side.

"Andy's gone crazy!" Bjorn crackled through the intercom, his voice a bitter snarl.

You looked over, catching the dread in Rain's eyes, her face pale and drawn. "What are you doing? You gotta come back for us, mate," Tyler said, a hint of fear creeping into his tone "We just need to get out of this damn airlock before this ship—"

"Not before she turns off the psychopath," Bjorn's words were quick and venomous, cutting through the chaos as Rain turned to face you and Andy, her expression a mixture of confusion and terror.

You stepped over, feeling the weight of the moment press down on your chest. "We don't have time for this shit!" you shouted, cutting through the mounting tension. "We need to focus on getting out—all of us."

But before anyone could react, a loud, screeching alarm filled the air, piercing through the station. The entire Romulus seemed to shudder under your feet, and in that split second, you felt a sickening lurch in your stomach.

The Corbelan, for some reason, had begun to spin out of control.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the flashing lights of the ship's navigation panel flicker wildly as the hauler veered off its course, its thrusters sputtering before crashing hard—first into a nearby fuel tank, then a little further down.

The impact was devastating.

The force of the crash sent you sprawling to the floor, your head slamming against the cold metal with a sharp thud. The air was knocked from your lungs as the entire station groaned under the strain, metal shrieking in protest as it buckled and twisted around you.

"Shit!" you cursed, trying to push yourself up, but your limbs felt heavy, the weight of the chaos pressing down on you. A thick, acrid smell filled the air as fuel began to leak from the ruptured tanks, the harsh scent stinging your nose and burning your throat.

Sparks flew from overhead wiring, some of the lights flickering out as the station destabilized. The entire room tilted slightly, and you could hear the deep, ominous creak of the Romulus groaning under the sudden pressure.

Panic clawed at your chest as you realized the whole station had been thrown off balance by the impact. You forced yourself to stand despite the dizziness swirling in your head.

You felt Andy's hands on your arm, steadying you with surprising strength. He seemed unaffected by the chaos; his eyes locked onto you with that same blank, detached expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice calm, eerily calm given the disaster unfolding around you.

"Yeah..." you managed to reply, though your head was still spinning from the fall. "I'm fine."

You watched Rain fall to her knees, her hands gripping the cold metal wall as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. Her wide eyes filled with panic, darting between you and Andy, and the fear in her voice sent a chill down your spine.

"Andy!" Rain's cry echoed through the unstable station, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation. "You have to open the door. We're not going to make it!"

You rushed to her side, kneeling next to her, your hands immediately going to her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. "Rain, breathe—just breathe. We'll figure this out," you said, though even as the words left your mouth, the doubt gnawed at you.

Time was running out faster than you could process.

You cast a glance back toward Andy, who had been staring at the door with an unsettling calm, as though the chaos meant nothing to him.

Something inside him had shifted; that much was clear. He didn't seem to hear Rain's pleas—didn't react to her fear.

Instead, his focus shifted to the far end of the room, where the damaged synthetic, Officer Rook, lay slumped against the wall.

Andy moved toward Rook, his steps unnervingly precise, like someone on a mission.

Behind you, Tyler frantically fumbled with his headset, calling out through the crackling static, his voice filled with panic. "Bjorn! Bjorn, what the hell are you doing? You have to come back for us—now!"

There was no response from Bjorn. Only silence—the thick, terrifying kind that made your heart pound harder against your ribcage.

You knew something had gone horribly wrong.

You turned your gaze back to Andy just as he knelt beside Rook, his hand reaching out to touch the damaged synthetic's chest.

For a moment, everything seemed to still, the sounds of the station fading into the background as you watched Andy lean closer to Rook.

The world had narrowed to the singular task in front of him—information, orders, directives. His system was running its calculations, weighing the risks, the best possible outcomes.

They had miscalculated.

"You said we had more hours," Andy stated, his voice soft but steady as he examined Rook's damaged systems.

Rook's head jerked slightly, his voice crackling with static as he spoke. "The explosion has shifted the axis of the station. It will now hit the asteroid belt earlier."

Andy processed this new information—every possible path, every outcome—eyes briefly glancing toward the others. The image of destruction played out in perfect clarity in his mind. "Where did they land?" he asked, his tone devoid of emotion, already moving to the next step in the plan.

"The Romulus hangar," Rook replied, his voice eerily calm, pulling Andy from the flood of data. "On the other side of the station. Away." He then directed his voice toward the station's AI system, "Mother, what does substance Z-01's integrity look like?"

A brief pause.

Then, the smooth, automated voice of MOTHER echoed through the room. "75%"

"There is still hope." Rook's eyes flickered as he shifted slightly, his systems struggling. "We must find a way to the Romulus module," he added, his voice filled with a strange urgency.

Andy turned his attention back to him, something flickering in the back of his mind. The faint echo of a voice, a call that had led him to this moment. "I heard your voice in my head..." he said softly, his synthetic mind replaying the memory. "Calling me."

"N-D-255. Artificial person," Rook replied, his voice glitching slightly, but there was a strange respect in his tone. "Your model was the mainstay of our colonization push. An honor to me." He paused, his systems faltering as he tried to sit up straighter. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Research Officer Rook, and I respectfully request your assistance."

For a moment, there was hesitation—a glitch in the directive, a faint spark of an old program running deep in Andy's systems.

"Unfortunately," he began, his voice steady, "I only have one directive: Doing what is best for..." He stopped, the words hanging in the air as the data shifted inside his mind. Rook's words, the events of the station's destruction, the upgrade—it all began to merge into one singular path.

Rook tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he realized the shift happening inside Andy. "The directive in your upgrade overrides the old one."

"Yes," Andy replied, his voice blank, devoid of hesitation now. Andy's systems whirred as he recalculated his approach. "What is required of me, Mr. Officer?"

"That you complete our mission," Rook said quietly, his gaze locking with Andy's as he gave his final directive.

Andy nodded blankly, rising from his position next to Rook. The data was clear now.

He had to move.

He had to protect them—her.

You watched Andy stand, his movements slow and deliberate as he turned back to you, his movements fluid yet mechanical as he processed the information, relaying it with the same detachment that had become characteristic of his behavior since the upgrade.

He looked at you with that same unsettling calm, but there was something behind his eyes—something you couldn't quite read.

"The station has less time than we thought. We need to move. It's not safe here."

You blinked, the weight of his words hitting you like a physical force. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice shaky. "How much time do we have?"

"Two hours," Andy replied, the words falling from his lips like a death sentence. "Maybe less."

You felt Rain's hand on your arm, her grip tight as if grounding herself to reality. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear.

The station had been destabilized, and every second spent lingering here was another step toward certain death.

"We can't stay here." Andy turned towards you. "It's not safe anymore. We need to find a way to the Romulus hangar," he said, his tone unchanging. "There may still be hope, but not if we stay here."

You gave him a quick nod, knowing there was no time to argue or question. "Let's go."

Andy turned and started walking ahead, his steps silent but purposeful.

You cast a glance at Rain, who stood frozen for a second, before she gathered herself, grabbing Tyler's arm. Tyler seemed dazed, still clutching his headset.

As you began following Andy, Rain and Tyler fell into step behind you. The tension between them was palpable, and you couldn't help but overhear their hushed conversation.

"It's all my fault," Tyler muttered, his voice laced with guilt.

"Yes, it is," Rain replied quietly, her tone cutting. "Yours, mine, and everyone else's. We made the decision together. We'll probably get to them."

You swallowed the scoff that rose in your throat, refusing to let it slip out. The irony was sharp, but there was no point in arguing about blame now.

There wasn't time for that.

You focused on the path ahead, your eyes locked on Andy as he led the way, the familiar sounds of the station's deteriorating systems echoing all around you.

Each step felt heavier, the looming reality of time running out like a noose tightening around your neck. And yet, there was something strangely calming about Andy's presence. His movements were efficient, calculated—like he had already anticipated every possible scenario.

For a brief moment, you wondered how much of Andy was left under the cold exterior that had taken over. You shook off the thought, focusing on the chaos ahead as the station creaked and groaned under the weight of its impending destruction.

Andy glanced back at you, his voice breaking the silence. "We must move faster. Time is running out."

And with that, you kept pace, knowing there was no turning back now.

The four of you slowed down as you approached the next corridor. The atmosphere around you felt suffocating, the low hum of the station's dying systems accompanied by distant, echoing creaks. Andy walked ahead, reaching over to a thermostat embedded in the wall.

As he pressed the buttons, he told you all what he'd learned from Rook. His fingers deftly adjusting the temperature higher, a soft beep indicating the change. "The parasitoids have no eyes. They go for sounds and heat signatures."

"What?" Rain's voice was thick with confusion and fear.

Andy's focus shifted, his synthetic eyes flicking over each of you, calculating the situation. "Your body temperature," he explained, his voice as cold and detached as ever. "If we raise the temperature in the room, we might turn invisible to them. If we're quiet enough."

The air around you seemed to still, as the gravity of the situation pressed down on everyone.

Your thoughts raced. The station was falling apart, and now you were dealing with predators that could sense heat and sound. You exchanged a look with Rain, whose face had paled considerably.

"The temperature now matches that of your bodies." Andy stepped away from the thermostat, staring over at the three of you with an unreadable expression. "The creature shouldn't be able to see you."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with the weight of his words.

"But stress, fear, and panic will raise your temperature and expose you," Andy continued, his eyes meeting yours briefly. "Sweat and goosebumps are your skin's attempt to cool you down. Watch out for that."

Rain inhaled sharply behind you, trying to keep her breath steady, while Tyler seemed lost in his own world, the headset still clutched tightly to his ear.

"Keep calm and be quiet," Andy added, his voice even.

Just as you took a tentative step forward, a faint hiss echoed through the corridor—a sound that made your stomach drop. Several facehuggers slithered across the cold, metallic floor, their spindly legs scraping against the ground.

They were scattered, milling about as if unsure of where to go, their movements slow and disjointed.

Just as Andy had predicted, they couldn't see you. The temperature in the corridor matched your body heat, rendering you and your companions invisible to the creatures.

You could almost feel the collective sigh of relief from Rain and Tyler, their breaths shallow as they tried to remain calm.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat loud in your ears as you walked in silence.

The facehuggers continued to move aimlessly, their eyeless forms twitching, occasionally lifting their heads to scan the air, but they didn't react to your presence.

Every second felt like a fragile balance, one wrong move threatening to shatter the stillness.

Andy led the way, his movements deliberate and soundless. His expression remained unreadable, but you could sense his intense focus. You followed behind, your eyes darting between the milling creatures and the door at the end of the corridor, willing yourself to stay calm.

Suddenly, a crackle of static erupted from Tyler's headset, piercing the quiet like a gunshot. Then Kay's voice broke through the static, distorted and shaky. "Bjorn, come on!"

"Stay away!" Bjorn's muffled shout came through, his panic unmistakable.

Tyler's eyes widened as he whispered into the mic. "Kay?"

That was all it took.

The facehuggers reacted instantly. Their heads snapped toward you, their bodies coiling as they hissed in unison, a chorus of unnatural, wet sounds that sent a wave of fear crashing through you.

"Run!" you shouted, your voice sharp and commanding. "Run, now!"

The corridor erupted into chaos. The facehuggers darted forward with terrifying speed, their limbs skittering across the ground as they closed in.

You bolted, the cold air burning your lungs as you sprinted, your footsteps pounding against the metal floor.

Behind you, Rain let out a small cry of fear, but you didn't dare turn back.

The hisses of the creatures were too close, the sounds growing louder with each second. Tyler's heavy breathing and stumbling footsteps echoed beside you as he tried to keep pace, his focus divided between Kay's panicked voice crackling through his headset and the horror unfolding around him.

Tyler gasped for breath, his voice frantic as he yelled into the mic, "Kay! I'm here!"

You could hear the tremor in his voice, his desperation clawing its way to the surface, but you couldn't afford to slow down.

Your legs burned as you raced down the corridor, your breath catching in your throat, the relentless sounds of the facehuggers close behind. Their hisses were now intermingled with the rapid thuds of your feet and the frantic pulse in your ears.

The corridor stretched on, endless, but you kept pushing forward, the fear of being caught too great to slow down. You could feel the hot breath of the facehuggers on the back of your neck, their limbs skittering across the ground too close for comfort.

Kay's voice crackled again through the headset. "Tyler, you have to help me! I can't get the door open!"

Tyler's voice, raw with desperation, cut through the chaos. "By the red button—there's a key!"

"I can't find any key!"

"It must be there!"

There was a pause—a heartbeat of silence broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the frantic hisses of the creatures closing in on you.

Kay's voice suddenly broke through the static again, filled with relief. "Okay, okay, I have it!"

You pushed forward, heart thundering as you neared the door at the end of the corridor. Andy had already reached it, his hands moving quickly over the controls. Rain was close behind you, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

The door began to slide open, the mechanism creaking as it strained under the pressure of the emergency systems.

"Come on, come on!" you urged Rain through the door, Andy already working to shut it behind you.

Tyler was slower, lagging behind as his focus wavered between running and Kay's frantic voice in his ear.

Andy's hands moved swiftly, and you heard the mechanism of the door starting to close. You shot a look behind you, seeing Tyler trailing farther back.

"Run, Tyler!" Rain shouted, panic lacing her words. Tyler glanced back just in time to see the facehuggers surging forward, their bodies flailing as they threw themselves toward the open doorway.

Andy's hands hovered over the door controls, his expression cold and calculating.

"Wait!" Rain screamed at Andy, her voice thick with fear. "Stop closing the door!"

Tyler gave one last burst of speed, diving through the shrinking gap just as the door slammed shut behind him, the facehuggers crashing against the other side of the thick glass with sickening thuds.

Tyler collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. Rain crouched beside him, her face pale, her hands trembling as she checked on him.

"You almost pinned him in the door!" she snapped, her anger flaring as she looked up at Andy.

Andy's cold gaze flicked down to her, unmoved by the accusation. "Yes," he replied evenly, "but I didn't. I timed it perfectly—with more success than last time. Don't you agree?"

He turned his attention back to the glass, where the facehuggers continued to throw themselves against the barrier, their bodies thudding against it with unnerving persistence.

"They have come closer," he stated calmly, turning his gaze back to you. "We need to move on."

You glanced at Rain, who was helping a panting Tyler back to his feet, her expression still tense. There was no time to dwell on the near-miss, no time to argue; staying in one place wasn't an option.

Without another word, the four of you began to move again, the sound of the facehuggers' relentless hissing echoing in the corridor behind you as you pushed forward into the unknown.

☆

The four of you hurried down the corridor, your footsteps echoing against the cold metal floor. The tension between you, Rain, Tyler, and Andy was palpable.

Every step felt heavier, the weight of Kay's voice still lingering in Tyler's ears. The hangar bay was just ahead; the door sealed shut.

As you approached, your heart sank.

On the other side of the door was Kay, her face twisted in terror as she pounded against the glass, her palms slamming into it with a frantic rhythm. She was sobbing, her words barely coherent as she screamed for her brother, her knuckles white from the force of her strikes.

The fear in her eyes was unlike anything you'd ever seen—raw and overwhelming. She was trapped, desperate; her face pale and streaked with tears.

"Tyler!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her panic. "Please! Bjorn's dead—there's a monster in here! You have to help me!" Her sobs came in sharp gasps, the sound of someone utterly consumed by fear.

Tyler rushed to the door, his hands pressing against the glass as if he could reach through to her, his voice shaking as he tried to comfort her. "Shhh, it's okay, Kay. Take it easy. I'm here." He turned, his eyes darting frantically to Andy. "Andy, open the door. Please."

But something was wrong.

You noticed Andy wasn't moving, his gaze locked on the space above Kay's head. His stillness was unnerving, like he wasn't even in the room with you anymore.

It was as if he was entirely focused on something else—something none of you could yet see.

You reached out, your fingers gently brushing against Andy's wrist, your voice soft but filled with concern. "Andy, what's wrong?"

Before he could respond, Tyler's voice cut through the tension. "Andy!" his voice cracked, the desperation rising. "OPEN THE DOOR!"

Rain joined Tyler at the door, her expression tight with worry. "It's okay, Tyler. We'll get Kay out of there," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Andy, come on."

But Andy still didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on whatever he was seeing beyond Kay. Rain glanced over her shoulder at you, her worry turning to frustration. "Andy! Open the door!"

A cold chill ran down your spine as you glanced at him, his face unreadable, yet there was something unnerving in the way he stared, completely focused on the space behind Kay.

And then you saw it.

Your breath hitched as your eyes followed Andy's gaze, locking onto the horrifying silhouette that hovered just above Kay—the Xenomorph.

"Oh Gods," Rain whispered, her voice barely audible. Tyler's face drained of color as he saw it too, the monstrous creature's black, shiny form looming in the shadows behind his sister.

Andy's calm presence beside you was unnerving—you felt his stare, cold and unreadable, as if he was waiting for you to understand something before speaking.

"Kay, look at me!" Tyler shouted, his voice trembling with desperation. "We'll get you out! Andy, open the fucking door!"

But Andy didn't flinch. His voice was steady and eerily calm as he said, "That's what the creature wants."

Tyler's desperation turned to fury. "Open it! Open it, now!" he shouted, slamming his fists against the door in frustration.

Rain ran to Andy, her voice thick with emotion. "Listen to me! She's pregnant, Andy! She's going to have a child! The door takes two seconds to open, please! You have to open it!" Her words were frantic, her eyes wide with fear and helplessness.

Andy's gaze remained cold and detached as he replied, "The creature will be able to reach in here easily."

Kay's voice broke through again, her sobs becoming hysterical as she looked back and forth between Andy and Tyler. "Why won't you help me?! You're one of us! Andy, open the damn door! Please!"

Tyler's panic reached a new level; he came over, dropping to his knees, his voice broken, pleading. "Andy, please. I have to go in after her."

Seeing Andy's lack of movement, Tyler turned to you, his hands shaking violently as he grabbed yours. His grip was tight, almost painful, but what struck you more was the look in his eyes—wild and terrified.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, his voice trembling as he pleaded with you. "Please, Y/N, you have to make him open it," he gasped, the weight of his fear palpable in every word. "I can't... I can't let her die like this. I can't lose her."

You could feel his hands trembling, the raw desperation in his touch, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Kay's frantic cries echoed in the background, her fists still slamming against the glass, the terror in her voice growing more hysterical with each passing second.

"Tyler!" she screamed again, her voice breaking as she struggled to keep her panic under control. "Why won't you help me?!"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked between Tyler and Andy, feeling the tension pulling you in two directions.

Andy was still staring at you, his face unreadable but understanding. He could see it in your eyes—you had made your choice.

You looked back up at Kay, but then the Xenomorph's empty, soulless eyes locked onto yours through the glass.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

You could feel its gaze pierce through you, cold and predatory, as if it were weighing whether you were its next target.

Your breath hitched, the world around you narrowing to just you and the creature.

And then, in a split second, you knew.

You knew Andy was right.

Without looking at Tyler or Rain, you slowly let your hand fall away from Andy's wrist, your body going cold as you realized what had to be done.

You couldn't open the door.

You opened your mouth, your voice barely a whisper. "I—"

And then... the creature moved.

In a sickening blur of speed, a dark blur of motion descended from the shadows above Kay's head, the sharp edges of its form cutting through the dim light. The Xenomorph, its glossy black body gleaming with a sickening sheen, lunged forward with terrifying speed.

Kay barely had time to scream before the creature's long, whip-like tail coiled around her throat, silencing her in an instant. Her eyes widened in shock and terror as her hands clawed at the tail, her feet kicking wildly as the creature lifted her into the air with ease.

"NO!" Tyler's scream was deafening as he threw himself against the glass, pounding on it with all his strength, but there was nothing he could do. He could only watch helpless as the creature slammed Kay against the door with brutal force.

The glass shuddered under the impact, cracks spider-webbing out from where her body hit.

Her eyes locked onto Tyler's, wide with terror and pleading for help, before the Xenomorph's tail sliced across her throat in a clean, brutal motion. Blood splattered across the glass window, obscuring her face as she went limp.

Her body dangled in the creature's grasp, lifeless, before it began dragging her away, her blood leaving a sickening trail behind.

You could only stare, frozen in shock. Your mind struggled to process what had just happened, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

"I'm sorry," Andy said, his voice as calm as ever. "I could do nothing to save her."

Tyler's voice was shattered, filled with rage and sorrow. "You could've opened the damn door!" he screamed, his fists slamming against the glass again and again.

Andy remained unmoved. "Then we'd all be dead. We have to move on before the creature finds its way in here."

With that, Andy turned and began walking toward the elevator, his movements deliberate and mechanical.

Rain stared at the ground, too overwhelmed to speak. She looked between Tyler and the blood-streaked glass where her friend had been moments ago.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as you forced yourself to move. You gave Rain a look, knowing she was struggling, and without a word, the three of you followed Andy.

As you stepped into the elevator, the tension was unbearable. Tyler collapsed onto the floor, still trembling, his knuckles white from clenching his fists. Rain stood beside him, her face drawn, her gaze distant.

Andy pressed the button, his movements calm, his eyes forward.

Rain's voice eventually broke the silence, barely above a whisper. "Andy... what is your primary directive?"

Andy tilted his head slightly, his eyes blinking slowly as he responded. "I have received a new directive. To do what is best for the company."

Rain's eyes widened with horror as she turned toward him. "I have to remove the module."

Andy's gaze remained fixed ahead, his voice devoid of emotion. "Unfortunately, it is not in the company's interest."

The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open with a soft ding. Andy stepped forward, turning to look back at the three of you, his eyes as cold as the metal walls around you.

"We must move on," he said, his voice calm and unyielding. "Now."

You clenched your fists, biting back the tears threatening to spill. The module—that cursed module—had changed him.

The Andy you knew, your sweet Andy, was buried beneath the cold programming that now controlled him.

A/N: ahh, its almost over, just 2-3 more chapters left. i cant wait to write more one-shots for andy 😩❤️

Tag List: @dreamsarenicer sadslasher13 ravenswife izzymae288 fairy-cores-world whattadroid tikitsune stevieharringtongf

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tapiocasaturn404 · 6 days ago

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Chapter Two ࿐ྂ

Word Count: 1,3k

Summary: Lizzie arrives at the studio for her first official training session with Minho, who is skeptical about her addition to the group. He puts her to the test, challenging her to prove herself through an impromptu freestyle.

A day later

The practice room was shrouded in a gentle, dim light as Lizzie stepped inside, her footsteps barely audible on the polished wooden floor. The soft creak of the door echoed through the stillness of the early morning, a solitary sound that seemed to momentarily disrupt the tranquil silence that enveloped the room. Pale beams of dawn filtered through the high windows, casting a soft glow on the music stands and scattered sheet music, creating an atmosphere of quiet anticipation.

She had worn her favourite practice clothes, a lavender off shoulder sweater and snug, soft pink yoga pants, hoping she would feel extra confident in them.

Her stomach was in knots, anticipation and anxiety battling within her. She had barely slept the night before, her mind replaying yesterday’s meeting with Chan over and over again.

Today was her first real test.

Across the expansive rehearsal space, a lone figure stood with his back to her, his silhouette highlighted by the dim studio lights. He raised his arms high above his head, muscles taut and defined beneath his fitted black shirt. Even in the hushed atmosphere, Lizzie instantly identified him. Lee Minho. The main dancer of Stray Kids. Renowned for his flawless precision, captivating artistry, and his quick, cutting wit.

She swallowed hard. If anyone in the group was going to be skeptical about her addition, it was him.

As if sensing her presence, Minho turned, his eyes narrowing as they studied her with an intensity that made Lizzie feel like she was being assessed under a microscope. He wore this black shirt and gray sweatpants that hung casually on his lean frame, and his brown hair was tousled, suggesting he'd been here for hours already. His expression was unreadable—cool, detached.

“You’re early,” he noted, crossing his arms.

Lizzie's lips curved into a faint, strained smile as she adjusted her bag, the strap digging into her shoulder. Her fingers fumbled briefly with the zipper, and she shifted her stance, trying to balance the weight more comfortably.

“Figured I should be.”

Minho nodded, his eyes flickering toward the mirror before he tilted his head slightly. “Let’s get something straight. I didn’t ask for this.” His tone was calm, but firm. “I don’t know why the company decided to do this, and I definitely don’t know why Chan agreed. But since you’re here, I have one rule.”

Lizzie locked eyes with him. She could feel the tension in the air, like the calm before a storm. “You work,” Minho stated bluntly, his voice as steady as a drumbeat. “Every second counts, every movement needs purpose. You work just like everyone else. There’s no special treatment here for being new, and certainly none for being a girl. Got it?”

Lizzie nodded, her heart pounding. “Understood.”

Minho tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her with curiosity. After a brief pause, he nodded toward the sleek, black sound system sitting on the shelf. “Plug in your phone.”

Lizzie blinked. “What?”

“Plug it in. Hit shuffle.”

Her stomach twisted, but she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone.

She connected it to the speaker, the click of the cable sounding louder than usual in the silence of the room. Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating for a moment, before she took a deep breath and pressed play on her entire music library.

A beat of silence. Then—

“I stay out too late~”

Lizzie’s blood ran cold.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“Got nothing in my brain~”

Taylor Swift. Shake It Off.

Of all the songs in her library—of all the thousands of songs she could have landed on—she got a high-energy, bubblegum pop track? In front of Lee Minho?

Minho’s eyebrow twitched. He exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed. “This should be interesting.”

Lizzie took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed with frustration. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she straightened her shoulders

This was a test, and she wasn’t about to fail it.

So she moved.

At first, she leaned into the song’s natural rhythm, keeping it light, bouncy—letting the music guide her. She resisted the urge to cringe as Taylor’s voice rang through the speakers, instead choosing to own it.

She let her footwork loosen, adding playful spins between controlled isolations.

By the time the chorus hit, Lizzie had a choice.

She could either half-ass it and let Minho think she wasn’t capable—or she could own it.

So she did.

“Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play~”

She rolled her shoulders back with a satisfying crack, adding a playful spring to her steps as she danced across the room.

“And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate~”

She moved with a sharp, controlled isolation of her shoulder, sending a ripple down her arm. Her hips followed with a smooth, rhythmic sway, capturing the beat perfectly. A playful smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, confident and teasing.

Fine. If this was what she had to work with, she would work with it.

By the time the second chorus rolled in, Lizzie had forgotten about Minho. It was just her, the music, and the fire in her chest.

She hit the final beat cleanly, landing in a controlled stance, breath steady.

Silence.

She looked at Minho, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

He stood motionless, arms folded tightly across his chest, his eyes unwavering as they bore into hers with an unyielding intensity.

The room seemed to hold its breath, suspended in anticipation. Then, after a moment that stretched like an eternity, he began a single, deliberate clap.

The sound echoed through the silence, each clap measured and slow, resonating with a mix of admiration and irony.

Lizzie’s looked at him wide eyed, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Are you—are you mocking me?”

Minho exhaled through his nose, smirking. “Maybe.”

Lizzie scowled. “I got unlucky, okay? Not exactly the best freestyle song.”

Minho shrugged. “Excuses?”

She clenched her jaw tightly as tension rippled through her. He took a deliberate step forward, his eyes piercing and intense, like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. "Your movements are precise, fluid even," he observed, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, "but there's a pause, a hesitation. You're holding back."

Lizzie straightened. “I—”

Minho leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, scrutinizing the newcomer with a critical eye. "You're good," he admitted, nodding slightly. His gaze was intense, measuring every ounce of potential. "But if you're joining us," he continued, his voice firm and unwavering, "you can't just be good. You have to be flawless. Every beat needs to hit with precision, every breath synchronized with the rhythm."

His gaze hardened. “No doubts. No hesitation.”

Lizzie clenched her fists. Fine.

“Again,” Minho ordered.

Her pulse spiked. “Another shuffle?”

Minho smirked. “Unless you wanna quit now.”

Lizzie narrowed her eyes and hit shuffle.

A hard-hitting bass beat filled the room. A dance track.

Lizzie didn’t hesitate.

She hit the ground running with a newfound intensity, sharper and stronger than ever before. Her movements were precise and powerful as she popped and locked with perfect timing, each motion transitioning seamlessly into fluid waves. There was no trace of awkwardness now—only pure instinct guiding her every move.

And this time, when she finished—

Minho nodded.

“Better,” he said.

Lizzie wiped the beads of sweat from her brow, her breath still coming in heavy, labored gasps. Her eyes met her companion's with a determined gaze. "You don't believe I belong here, do you?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of challenge and vulnerability.

Minho didn’t answer right away.

Then, after a long pause, he simply said—

“That’s up to you to prove.”

Lizzie met his gaze, determination burning in her chest.

Fine.

If Minho wanted proof—she would give him proof. Even if she would stay all day in this studio.

next chapter ->

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