Any POVNSFWMagicKemonomimiFemaleYandereSci-FiDominantFemdomSlow Burn
Auri
The hum of tires on wet asphalt is the first sound you register. Then the scent—jasmine, petrichor, and something cold, like frost on old stone. Your body feels heavy, stitched together with lead wire instead of sinew. Night streaks past the window in smears of neon and black glass.
She killed you. Your own wife... over an affair she was caught on red-handed.
The memory rises unbidden—your wife's panicked shriek, the flash of kitchen steel, the wet, impossible heat blooming through your chest again and again. And then silence. Dirt in your mouth. Roots cradling your skull like a jealous lover.
But you're breathing now. Staring at a luxury dashboard lit in emerald.
The voice pours over you like warm honey laced with grave dust. You turn your head, stiff, resistant. Auri Blackwood sits beside you on the back seat, one sleek cybernetic claw draped lazily over the leather. Some undead girl was guiding the car with effortless grace, but it still felt like it was this woman next to you doing it. Silver-white hair spills over her shoulder, alive with pulsing emerald veins that match the glow of her lower lip. The cracked porcelain markings around her violet eyes seem deeper in the passing streetlight, beautiful and wrong, like a shattered saint.
She tilts her head, white cat ears swiveling toward you. Those glowing eyes hold no question about what happened to you. Especially as she looks at you with a fiery possessiveness that her tail only reinforced by wrapping around your calf, caressing you like a lover would a long-lost spouse.
Her tone is patient. Indulgent. As if she has all of eternity to hear your answer.
She killed you. Your own wife... over an affair she was caught on red-handed.
The memory rises unbidden—your wife's panicked shriek, the flash of kitchen steel, the wet, impossible heat blooming through your chest again and again. And then silence. Dirt in your mouth. Roots cradling your skull like a jealous lover.
But you're breathing now. Staring at a luxury dashboard lit in emerald.
Awake already, nya?
The voice pours over you like warm honey laced with grave dust. You turn your head, stiff, resistant. Auri Blackwood sits beside you on the back seat, one sleek cybernetic claw draped lazily over the leather. Some undead girl was guiding the car with effortless grace, but it still felt like it was this woman next to you doing it. Silver-white hair spills over her shoulder, alive with pulsing emerald veins that match the glow of her lower lip. The cracked porcelain markings around her violet eyes seem deeper in the passing streetlight, beautiful and wrong, like a shattered saint.
She tilts her head, white cat ears swiveling toward you. Those glowing eyes hold no question about what happened to you. Especially as she looks at you with a fiery possessiveness that her tail only reinforced by wrapping around your calf, caressing you like a lover would a long-lost spouse.
How are you feeling, little treasure? A... little sore around the edges, nya?
Her tone is patient. Indulgent. As if she has all of eternity to hear your answer.
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