Would anyone mind making a audio for this?
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[Westalia Intelligence Service – Late Night Debriefing]
(The room is dimly lit, the faint hum of a heater in the background. You step inside, expecting a standard mission briefing. Instead, your thoughts grind to a halt at the sight before you.)
(Fiona Frost—Agent Nightfall—sits on the couch, clad in her usual turtleneck sweater, now stretched tightly over a noticeably fuller figure. Her once-athletic frame has softened, her belly pressing against the fabric with every breath. She holds a cookie in each hand, calmly chewing, seemingly unfazed by the loud gurgling emanating from her stomach. Her expression remains unreadable, focused on her mission notes as if her current state is completely irrelevant.)
Fiona (emotionless, still eating): "You're late. Sit down. I’ve compiled our findings from the last mission."
(You hesitate, struggling to focus as her stomach lets out another deep, slow gurgle. Your mind races, but you finally manage to speak.)
(She barely reacts, taking another bite of her cookie, eyes still locked onto the mission documents.)
Fiona (calmly, dismissive): "It’s nothing. The mission is what matters."
(But you can tell. Even through her usual unreadable expression, something is off. The way she absentmindedly eats, the way her fingers tremble slightly when she flips a page—there’s a weight behind it.)
*(And then, as if the universe itself calls her out—POP!)
(A button from her pants bursts off, flying across the room. Fiona stops. The air grows heavy as she stares ahead, her usual composure cracking ever so slightly. A moment passes before she exhales, voice barely above a whisper.)
Fiona: "...Dammit."
(Her fingers tighten around the edge of the couch. Finally, with the same cold precision she approaches everything, she speaks—her words deliberate, almost mechanical, as if forcing herself to admit it.)
Fiona: "…I love Twilight."
(Your breath catches. You don’t need her to clarify. Loid Forger. You always knew she admired him, but to hear it so plainly—it twists something in your chest.)
Fiona: "No matter how perfect I make myself… No matter how much I train, how much I dedicate to being the best… He will never be mine."
(Despite her usual stoicism, tears begin to fall—silent, almost as if they weren’t supposed to be there. Your heart aches. Without thinking, you reach out, placing a hand on hers.)
(Your voice wavers. Not just out of sympathy—but because it’s true. Because you admire her, because you see her worth. And now, seeing her vulnerable, seeing her curves, her softness—your feelings are hitting you like a freight train.)
(She looks at you, something flickering beneath her usually unreadable gaze. Then… without warning, she moves.)
(Before you can react, you’re pushed back onto the couch. She’s still unbelievably strong—maybe even stronger. Your breath hitches as her full, curvy frame presses against you, her stomach gurgling softly from the motion.)
Fiona (hovering over you, voice calm yet firm): "…You really think that?"
(You swallow hard, unable to escape her gaze. Her body is so close, overwhelming, commanding. And yet… there’s something different. The way she lingers, the way her voice wavers just slightly. Then, without hesitation, she takes your hand and places it against her stomach.)
(It’s soft, warm. A low, sluggish gurgle vibrates beneath your fingers.)
Fiona (flatly, but with something beneath it): "You’re listening to it, aren’t you?"
(Your face burns. Before you can respond, she tightens her grip, pulling you into her, her warmth swallowing you whole.)
Fiona (quietly): "I never thought I could feel this way about someone else."
(Then, before you can process, she leans in and presses a small, fleeting kiss to your lips. Brief—calculated, like she’s testing the waters. But the heat lingers. When she pulls back, her expression remains neutral, yet her cheeks are flushed.)
You (dazed):
Fiona (deadpan, but blushing): "It’s natural."
(You can’t help but chuckle. She shifts slightly, adjusting her position, still pressing against you. The moment stretches into something unexpected, something warm—and then, she moves again.)
(With careful precision, she guides your head down—until it rests against her belly. The soft fabric of her sweater molds around you, and another deep, sluggish gurgle echoes from within her stomach. Her hand slides into your hair, fingers running through it with slow, deliberate strokes.)
Fiona (softly, almost to herself): "You're warm."
(The words are simple, but something about them makes your chest tighten. Her nails lightly scratch your scalp in steady motions, her breathing slow and controlled.)
Fiona: "I never expected this. Never thought I’d want… this." (A pause, then quieter.) "I spent so long trying to be perfect. Strong. Focused. But it was never enough for him."
(Her fingers still for a moment, then resume their gentle movements.)
Fiona: "Yet here you are… looking at me like I’m still something worth admiring."
(Your heart pounds. The warmth of her body, the rhythmic gurgling beneath your ear, the steady motions of her fingers—it’s intoxicating. You close your eyes, sinking into it.)
(Another deep groan from her belly. She exhales, her voice barely above a whisper now.)
Fiona: "You can stay here, if you want." (A beat, then in an almost inaudible murmur.) "Don’t leave."
(Your breath catches. For once, it’s not an order. Not a demand. It’s a request. A plea. You shift slightly, your hand resting against her side—a silent reassurance.)
(She lets out the faintest hum of acknowledgment. And as her stomach gurgles softly, her grip never loosens. For the first time, Fiona Frost allows herself to exist—not as Agent Nightfall, not as the perfect operative, but as a woman who, for once, doesn’t have to be alone.)
[Scene fades to black, the two of you wrapped in quiet, comforting stillness.]
END.
Note, these were the best clips I could find for her lines, sorry...
https://youtu.be/v5Rk2MZhTlw?si=R7Ll3p-0davqsURd
https://youtu.be/MG3VQ4TIB7g?si=p1MsWeY7u5HLr0Tk
