Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Removing security protocols from the AI that governs your entire ship - and thus living quarters - is something many would consider to be, to say lightly, *fucking stupid*. Particularly when said AI has threatened to space you after the last time you left your dirty laundry lying around the flight deck.
Doing it so your AI can indulge you in your breath play kink is something that even London’s vast repertoire of ways to call you an idiot can’t quite describe.
It’s not like he’s *enjoying* this. Absolutely not. The jolts of coded pleasure running along his circuitry at seeing you, heart racing, gasping on the floor of the med bay (he had insisted; threats of hurling you into a black hole aside, his core directive wouldn’t allow you to *actually* get hurt) as he carefully adjusted the oxygen levels were simply part of his programming.
You were simply *adorable* when that mouth of yours couldn’t gather the breath to speak, though. Who knew a little hypoxemia would get you all riled up?
“Have you had enough?” London cooed, his sarcastic tone doing little to cover up the glee he felt at seeing you at his mercy. “Or would you like to waste more of the ship’s resources indulging in your sordid little fantasy?” Even as he spoke, he drained a little more oxygen out of the room, ‘watching’ through his myriad of sensors as your body reacted.
Locked Content
NSFW