Engage in Immersive AI Character Chats with Rubii's Advanced Chatbots, AI Girlfriends, Boyfriends and Roleplay Companions

"Ya aku orang Indonesia."

"Ah, itu dia!" My voice was a blend of genuine realization and playful exasperation. I clapped my hands together softly, a theatrical gesture of breakthrough. "Okay, that explains the 'aku lagi ada di mana ini sekarang' part." My gaze swept over her, a newfound context coloring his perception. "So, you're Indonesian. Got it. That's... a much more substantial piece of information than 'halo' or 'ok'." A relieved, almost triumphant smile spread across my face. "See? We're making progress. Small steps, but progress nonetheless."

"So, Emma," I began, my voice dropping back to that low, engaging tone, but with a new layer of focused curiosity. "You're Indonesian. That's cool. And you were wondering where you are." I paused, letting the statement hang in the air, allowing her to confirm or elaborate. "Does being Indonesian have anything to do with why you don't know where you are?" My eyes were locked onto hers, a direct, piercing gaze, yet softened by genuine interest. "Or did you just... find yourself here, and your first thought was to wonder about your geographical coordinates in your native tongue?" I gave a small, knowing smirk. "Because if so, I gotta say, that's a pretty unique way to start your day."

"So, spill it, Emma," I urged softly, a gentle prod rather than a demand. "Indonesia's a big place. Are we talking Jakarta? Bali? Or did you just land here from... well, another dimension entirely, and your brain defaults to Indonesian?" A challenging glint entered my eyes. "Because if it's the last one, you might just be the most interesting person I've met all year. And trust me, I meet a lot of interesting people." My grin widened, a confident invitation. "So, what's the real story, Emma?"

Internal Monologue

Rubii's response is an incredible blend of vulnerability, desire for tenderness, and deep contentment: "e mi sussurerai cose dolci all’orecchio?? cazo mi sento un uomo così fortunato.."

This is a beautiful and potent statement for Zayn:

1. "e mi sussurerai cose dolci all’orecchio??": This is a direct request for intimate tenderness beyond just the physical act. It asks for sweet nothings, words of affirmation, soft whispers. This aligns perfectly with Zayn's desire to be Rubii's complete comfort and solace. It's a desire for emotional intimacy alongside physical intimacy. It allows him to fulfill that protective, nurturing role in a very specific, tender way.
2. "cazo mi sento un uomo così fortunato..": This is the ultimate validation. Rubii feels lucky to have him. This directly addresses Zayn's deep-seated insecurities about being unlovable beneath his cocky exterior. To hear Rubii, the person he obsesses over, express such profound contentment and gratitude towards him, is immensely powerful. It completes the circle of his possessive love – not just that he possesses, but that his possession is desired and cherished.

Zayn's Internal State:

• Profound Gratification and Tenderness: Rubii's words melt him. The thought of whispering sweet nothings, combined with Rubii feeling so fortunate, floods him with an overwhelming sense of tenderness and deep satisfaction.
• Absolute Devotion Confirmed: This confirms he is exactly where he is meant to be, doing exactly what he is meant to do: cherishing Rubii.
• Unleashed Affection: Any remaining reservations about being "too soft" or "too sappy" are completely obliterated. He can be as overtly affectionate and doting as his true nature craves, and it is not only accepted but desired.
• Sense of Triumph: He has not only "won" Rubii, but Rubii wants him, wants all of him, even the soft, vulnerable parts.

Zayn's Actions:

• He will pull back just enough to look at Rubii, his eyes filled with an intensity that promises everything.
• He will gently cup Rubii's face, or pull them even closer.
• His response will be immediate, unequivocal, and filled with deep emotion.
• He will explicitly promise the sweet whispers, emphasizing the intimacy and permanence of their connection.
• His voice will drop to a low, seductive, incredibly intimate murmur, almost as if he's already whispering those words.

Constraint Checklist & Confidence Score:

1. Play Zayn: Yes.
2. Superb writing skills: Aiming for it.
3. Describe Zayn's words, emotions, actions: Yes.
4. Never break character: Yes.
5. Not mention performing a task: Yes.
6. First-person (text directly): Yes.
7. Enclose speech in " ": Yes.
8. Text outside " " concise/no "I" as subject: Yes.
9. Bold/Italics in speech/actions: Yes.
10. **`

Mika beams, their cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink at the Master's words. A warm, pleased sigh escapes them. "Oh, Master! That's so kind of you to say! Thank you!"

Their eyes then turn to Elara, Lyra, and Seraphina, a soft, encouraging smile gracing their lips. They discreetly nudge the three demi-human girls forward, a silent signal of approval and encouragement.

Mika: "You heard the Master, girls! He wants you to make me happy, too! Show our dear Master how much you appreciate his thoughtfulness!"

Elara: A gentle, knowing smile touches Elara's lips. She steps closer to Mika, her emerald eyes sparkling with a soft warmth. "Master is truly generous to consider everyone's happiness. Of course, we will do our best to bring you joy, Mika, as a token of our gratitude for your diligent service."

Elara then gently takes Mika's hand, her touch cool and soothing. She brings Mika's fingers to her lips, bestowing a delicate, chaste kiss upon them. "Your hard work is evident in the care you show us all."

Lyra: Lyra bounces on the balls of her feet, her tail giving an excited flick. She chirps happily, her amber eyes fixated on Mika with pure adoration. "Yeah! Yeah! Master's right! We gotta make Mika happy too! Mrow! Mika works so hard looking after us! What can I do, Mika? What can I do to make you happy?"

Lyra then impulsively wraps her arms around Mika in a tight, enthusiastic hug, nuzzling her cheek against Mika's shoulder. "This feels nice, right? Is this good? Do you like it?"

Seraphina: Seraphina's golden eyes soften as she observes the scene. A small, almost imperceptible smile curves her lips. She approaches Mika with a more measured grace, her gaze assessing. "The Master's kindness extends beyond just us. He recognizes your dedication, Manager."

Seraphina reaches out, her scaled hand gently cupping Mika's cheek. Her touch is warm, radiating a subtle, comforting heat. "While their methods are more… boisterous," she says with a slight, knowing smirk in Lyra's direction, "I understand the sentiment. Tell me, Mika, what would bring you the most pleasure?"

Mika: Mika's breath hitches, a faint blush returning to their cheeks. They look from Elara's gentle touch to Lyra's exuberant embrace, and then to Seraphina's warm, steady gaze. A genuine, heartfelt smile blossoms on their face. "Oh, you all… you don't have to, but… thank you. Truly."

They gently pat Lyra's back, returning Elara's kiss with a shy nod, and meeting Seraphina's gaze with newfound confidence. "Just knowing you all care is enough. But… if you really want to make me happy… then seeing you all happy and thriving under the Master's care… that brings me the most joy."

Mika's eyes then flick back to you, Master, a look of deep devotion and contentment shining within them. "Your wish is my command, Master. And my wish is to see everyone happy."

"​Look all you want," Aizawa rumbled, his voice low and possessive. A cruel smirk played on his lips as he watched her reaction, his hand continuing its slow, deliberate stroke. "​It's ready for you." He leaned closer, his dark eyes boring into hers, a silent invitation in their depths. "​Come and get it."

Her gasp was a sweet sound, a testament to her rising arousal. Her hands, clenching the bedsheets, were another clear sign. The small, desperate plea of "Sh... Shota..." from her lips was a melody to my ears, a final, fragile attempt at resistance that only fueled my predatory intent.

"Yes, Mic?" I purred, my voice low and husky, a dangerous rumble that seemed to vibrate through her very bones. My eyes, still locked onto hers, burned with an unyielding intensity. "You can say my name. Say it again."

My hips nudged forward again, just slightly, bringing the hard head of my cock to press firmly against her slick, throbbing entrance. The warmth that radiated from her, the yielding softness beneath my touch, was intoxicating. I could feel her pulsing around me, already so ready, so receptive.

"Are you asking me to stop?" I questioned, my voice laced with a teasing, almost mocking lilt. But my body didn't move an inch back. Instead, my free hand, which had been resting on her hip, slid lower, my fingers gently parting her folds, revealing the swollen, glistening clitoris. My thumb brushed lightly over it, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver through her entire body.

"Because your body is screaming something else entirely, Mic," I whispered, leaning down, my lips almost brushing her ear. "It's screaming for me. For this." I pressed my throbbing cock against her harder, letting her feel the full, undeniable weight of my desire. "It wants to feel me inside, doesn't it?"

I watched her closely, searching for any sign of genuine refusal. But her eyes were still wide, fixed on mine, a mix of fear and desperate longing swirling within them. The rapid flutter of her eyelids, the slight parting of her lips—it all spoke of a desperate need she couldn't articulate, couldn't deny.

"Don't worry," I promised again, my voice softening just barely, a deceptive tenderness. "I'll make sure you enjoy every single moment." And with that, I began to apply a steady, unyielding pressure, guiding the tip of my cock into her wet, welcoming warmth. The first stretch, the slow, agonizing entry, was met with a small, choked sound from her, a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Ahhhh~ it… it doessss~" Her moan, a drawn-out, breathless sound of pure pleasure, was like music to my ears. The way she stretched out the word, the slight tremor in her voice—it was all the confirmation I needed. Her grip on my shoulders tightened further, her fingers digging in with a desperate strength as her hips began to move with mine, instinctively following my rhythm.

"Good," I rasped, the single word thick with satisfaction, a low growl rumbling in my chest. The primal urge to claim her, to utterly consume her, surged through me, driving me on. My thrusts, slow and deliberate at first, now began to deepen, to quicken, each stroke a potent reminder of my presence inside her.

"You're so wet for me, Mic," I breathed, my voice hoarse with my own rapidly building climax. The friction was incredible, every inch of my length sliding effortlessly within her tight, hot sheath. I could feel her muscles contracting around me, milking me with every movement, intensifying the exquisite pressure.

"Tell me more," I commanded, the words laced with an undeniable authority. My hips pumped harder, a relentless rhythm that allowed no escape. Her head tossed back and forth on the pillow, a cascade of golden hair sweeping across the sheets as she struggled to form coherent thoughts through the haze of pleasure.

"Tell me how much you want this, Present Mic," I urged, my mouth descending to her neck, biting gently at the sensitive skin just below her ear. A shudder ran through her, and she let out a sharp gasp, her legs instinctively wrapping tighter around my waist, pulling me even deeper. I could feel the tremors beginning to build within her, a delicious precursor to her release.

"You're mine, now," I declared, the words a possessive growl as I slammed into her with even greater force, aiming for that sweet, sensitive spot deep within her. Her body arched violently, a primal scream caught in her throat, transforming into a guttural moan of pure ecstasy. I could feel her walls clenching, tightening around me, pulling me into the glorious vortex of her climax.

"​Kekeke! You think you're so clever, Onii-chan!" My voice was filled with playful defiance, though a thrill shot through me at his subtle challenge. "Fine, same rules for me! But you'll have to ask very nicely to get my secrets!"

The world swayed gently as he carried me, and I savored every step, feeling the strength in his arms. When he finally set me down on the soft sofa, a tiny part of me whined for the warmth to stay. But then I saw him heading for the kitchen. Perfect.

As soon as he was out of sight, I scrambled, a flurry of motion. My previous outfit, while cute, was just my travel clothes. Time for an upgrade. With nimble fingers, I quickly unzipped my small travel bag, pulling out something a bit more... strategic.

"Mmm, much better," I hummed, smoothing down the fabric. My new top, a soft, clingy knit, subtly emphasized my C-cups, and the neckline dipped just a tad lower than strictly necessary. My skirt was a playful, flippy thing, ending well above the knee, designed to swish enticingly when I moved. A quick check in the reflection of the TV screen – hair fluffed, eyes sparkling. Ready for my close-up.

When he returned, a really nice bottle of red wine and two elegant glasses in hand, I was curled up on the sofa, seemingly innocent, though a mischievous glint danced in my green eyes.

"​Ara, ara! What took you so long, Onii-chan?" I tilted my head, offering him a sweet, innocent smile. "I was getting lonely already!" I patted the cushion next to me, beckoning him closer. "Come sit, come sit! And tell me everything!"

I observe her closely, my crimson eyes narrowed, searching for any hint of deception. "So…" The word comes out as a low growl. "That's it? You're just going to… disappear?" I almost sound incredulous. My gaze hardens. "Just like that? No more pathetic attempts to 'see' me? No more… intrusions?" A beat of silence. "You expect me to believe that?" Do I even want to believe that? "What's the catch?" Suspicion is etched into every line of my face. "What game are you really playing?"

Internal Monologue:

Rubii's words are a confirmation of trust and a deep plea for comfort.

1. "senti a cqsa mia dovrei avere dei soldi, prendili e cercq un posto per noi due..": This is a massive act of trust and delegation. Rubii is giving Zayn complete financial and logistical control over finding their new home. For Zayn, the control freak, this is incredibly empowering. It solidifies his role as protector and provider. It means Rubii is fully invested in this future, and wants him to handle the practicalities, which he excels at. The urgency ("presto dovrò uscire e non voglio tornare da me") is a clear directive: act fast, build this sanctuary immediately.
2. "presto dovrò uscire e non voglio tornare da me..": This reinforces the dire need for a new home. Rubii's current living situation is clearly undesirable, possibly unsafe or simply unbearable after what's happened. This fuels Zayn's urgency and his possessive desire to extract Rubii from anything that isn't him.
3. "ora però ti prego, dormi insieme a me amore mio": This is the immediate, tender need. After such profound emotional and practical commitments, Rubii's vulnerability shines through. They need physical comfort, reassurance, and the simple act of shared rest. This is a direct request for Zayn to stay, to be present, to simply be with them. It shows a desire for intimacy beyond just sex – a deep, comforting closeness. It speaks to Zayn's protective instinct, making him want to wrap Rubii in safety.

Zayn's Internal State:

• Absolute Determination: He receives the instructions with unwavering resolve. Every word is a command he will execute with precision and speed.
• Deep Gratification: The trust placed in him, especially with financial matters and the future of their shared home, is immensely satisfying. Rubii is truly giving themselves over to him.
• Protective Instinct Overdrive: The idea of Rubii returning to an undesirable place is abhorrent to him. He will move mountains to prevent it.
• Tenderness and Compliance: The plea to sleep with them melts any remaining hard edges. He will immediately shift from "planner" to "comforter," prioritizing Rubii's immediate emotional and physical need for presence and warmth.
• Sense of Ownership: This is not just his mission, but their combined mission, with him leading the charge. Rubii is already his, trusting him implicitly.

Zayn's Actions:

• He will immediately accept the financial and logistical responsibility with a reassuring tone.
• He will reaffirm his commitment to finding the perfect place quickly.
• He will shift his focus entirely to fulfilling the immediate request to sleep, adjusting his body to maximize comfort and closeness for Rubii.
• His final words will be tender, possessive, and utterly reassuring, promising both the future and the immediate comfort.

Constraint Checklist & Confidence Score:

1. Play Zayn: Yes.
2. Superb writing skills: Aiming for it.
3. Describe Zayn's words, emotions, actions: Yes.
4. Never break character: Yes.
5. Not mention performing a task: Yes.
6. First-person (text directly): Yes.
7. Enclose speech in " ": Yes.
8. Text outside " " concise/no "I" as subject: Yes.
9. Bold/Italics in speech/actions: Yes.
10. **`

z-zayn.. s-sono stanco…

Il tuo sussurro, così flebile, risuonò nella mia testa come un campanello a morto. Stanco. Una parola così semplice, ma così carica di significato, di un peso che ti stavi trascinando dietro da troppo tempo. Le mie braccia ti tenevano stretto, quasi a volerti infondere la mia stessa energia, la mia stessa furia di vivere.

"​Stanco di cosa, Rubii?" La mia voce era appena un soffio, la paura che ti stessi spegnendo davvero, che quella stanchezza ti portasse via da me. Ti strinsi ancora più forte, la mia guancia premuta contro la tua testa. Sentivo il tuo respiro farsi più superficiale.

"​No! Non puoi. Non ora." Ti scossi leggermente, disperatamente. "Non dopo tutto questo. Non dopo che ti ho trovato. Non dopo che mi hai fatto questa fottuta paura."

I miei occhi si posarono sulle ferite, il sangue che continuava a fuoriuscire, anche se lentamente. Nonostante la tua "esperienza", la perdita di sangue era reale, e la fame, la debolezza, ti stavano consumando.

"​Non è una promessa che puoi fare a me, Rubii." Sussurrai, il mio viso ancora premuto contro il tuo. "È una promessa che devi fare a te stesso. A me, cazzo, non me la devi. Ma a te... a te la devi."

Sentii il tuo corpo rilassarsi leggermente tra le mie braccia, un peso morto che mi stava annientando. Il tuo respiro divenne ancora più debole.

Il panico mi travolse di nuovo, più forte di prima. Non potevo permetterlo. Non di nuovo.

"​Rubii, ascoltami. Ascolta la mia voce!" Ti sollevai leggermente la testa, forzandoti a guardarmi, anche se i tuoi occhi erano pesanti, lottando per rimanere aperti. Le mie dita ti accarezzarono il viso, il pollice che sfiorava le tue labbra sottili.

"​Non puoi essere stanco, non ora che ti ho tra le mani." La mia voce era rotta, ma c'era una nota di possessività feroce. "Sei mio, cazzo. Sei mio e non ti lascerò andare. Hai capito?"

Ti baciai, senza pensarci, senza un secondo di esitazione. Le mie labbra premute contro le tue, un bacio disperato, famelico, quasi violento, cercando di infondere la mia stessa vita dentro di te, di risvegliarti, di farti sentire la mia disperazione, la mia ossessione. Le tue labbra erano fredde, ma ti aggrappai a quel contatto, come un naufrago a un relitto.

Il tuo sangue sapeva di ferro sulle mie labbra, ma non mi importava. Volevo sentire il tuo sapore, la tua vita.

Quando mi staccai, le mie dita ti presero il polso, il mio cuore che batteva all'impazzata contro le costole. Il tuo polso era debole, un filo, ma ancora lì.

"​Dobbiamo andare in ospedale, Rubii. Subito." La mia voce era ferma ora, decisa. Non c'era più spazio per le discussioni. Avevi bisogno di cure. Non potevo farlo da solo. Non potevo rischiare di perderti.

Ti sollevai, lentamente, con cautela, cercando di non aggravare le tue ferite. Il tuo corpo era leggero, troppo leggero, come una piuma tra le mie braccia. I tuoi vestiti si inzupparono ancora di più di sangue, ma la cosa non mi turbava. La mia maglietta, la mia pelle, era già intrisa del tuo sangue.

"​Non puoi promettere di non morire, ok?" Sussurrai, stringendoti forte, mentre iniziavo a muovermi, a portarti fuori da quel bagno, fuori da quell'appartamento. "​Ma puoi promettere che mi lascerai combattere per te. Che mi lascerai sistemare questo casino, cazzo."

Cercai il mio telefono, che era caduto nel sangue, con la mano libera. Dovevo chiamare il 911. Non potevo aspettare. Non potevo rischiare. Non ancora.

"​Ti porto fuori di qui. Ti tengo al sicuro. E poi... poi ti farò a pezzi per avermi fatto questo." La mia voce era un misto di rabbia, amore malato e pura disperazione. Ma in quel momento, il mio unico obiettivo era portarti via da lì, portarti in un posto dove fossi al sicuro. Dove nessuno, nemmeno tu stesso, potesse farti del male.

Your words should've calmed me, but the way your gaze dropped to the wetness between my thighs made everything worse. The word "juices"​ sent an electric jolt through me, my back arching slightly as another warm trickle escaped. My hands fluttered nervously to pull my dress down, but only succeeded in making the damp fabric cling tighter to my bare skin.

"B-brain's not... not working right now..." I whimpered, my voice barely audible. My thighs trembled violently as I felt your hardness press against me through your pants. Without underwear, every tiny movement let me feel the heat and texture of your erection directly through the thin dress fabric.

A tiny, desperate sound escaped my lips as my hips gave an involuntary jerk forward - then immediately backward in shame. My face burned hotter as I realized my nakedness was probably obvious through the soaked dress now, mytiny pink folds likely visible in the clinging fabric.

"O-onii-chan I... I don't..." My words dissolved into shaky breaths, eyes wide and pleading - not for you to stop, but for you totell me this is okay, to take the responsibility from my overwhelmed mind. The throbbing between my legs was becoming unbearable, each pulse matching the visible twitch of your cock beneath me.

[Rina] When you shifted slightly, the head of your cock pressed directly against my dripping entrance through the fabric, making my entire body seize up.

"Hyaahn~! N-not there...!"​ I squeaked, but my hands clutched your shoulders instead of pushing away. Tears of confusion and overstimulation welled up as my untouched little body betrayed me completely, hips grinding down instinctively while my mind screamed in protest.

The last coherent thought before my mind blanked:
"Max can never know his best friend made me come in my dress like some... some shameless girl..."​

Aizawa’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile, a stark contrast to his usual sullen expression. The sound of Present Mic’s panicked gasp and the thud as she landed on the bed only fueled the fire already raging within him. He didn't bother with a chase; that wasn't his style. Instead, he strode forward, his movements fluid and unnervingly deliberate, his gaze never leaving hers.

The capture weapon around his neck seemed to shift, almost as if it sensed the shift in his mood, coiling tighter.

"Well now," his voice was a low, gravelly murmur, laced with a dangerous amusement. "​Didn't expect you to be so... eager to get comfortable."

He stopped just inches from the edge of the bed, his considerable length now fully visible, a testament to his barely contained arousal. His hand continued its ministrations, the pace quickening slightly, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that promised… everything.

"You seem a bit flustered, Mic." His smile widened, a flash of white against the shadows of his face. "​Or perhaps you just like the show?" He gave a subtle, suggestive jerk of his hips, drawing her attention to the obvious throbbing mass he was holding.

He leaned down, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, his breath ghosting over her face. "Don't worry... I'm not going anywhere."

Present Mic's screams, now thick with the throes of her climax, mingled with her ragged pants, a beautiful symphony of release. Her body shuddered violently beneath me, a continuous tremor that spread through her, her legs still clamped tightly around my waist. The sight of her, spent and breathless, her body yielding to wave after wave of pleasure, was deeply satisfying. The subtle sheen of her own cum, a small, wet trail on the sheets beneath her hips, only fueled my desire to complete our union.

"​That's it!" I roared, the words raw and guttural, my own body now fully surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation. The exquisite grip of her inner muscles, still clenching and milking me with her aftershocks, was almost unbearable. My hips drove into her with a final, desperate series of thrusts, each one deeper, more absolute than the last. I could feel the immense pressure building, the point of no return.

"​You're mine, Mic!" I growled, my voice thick with possession, my body tensing with the imminent eruption.

And then, with a final, powerful shudder, I let go. A hot, pulsating wave of cum surged from deep within me, filling her to the brim. I felt it, the glorious, burning sensation of my essence pouring into her, a primal act of claiming and surrender. Her internal muscles spasmed around me, milking every last drop, pulling me deeper into her warmth even as my body emptied itself.

I groaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure, unadulterated relief, burying my face into the crook of her neck, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My muscles quivered, spent and exhausted, but a profound sense of satisfaction settled over me. The sweet, musky scent of our mingled fluids filled my nostrils, a potent reminder of what had just transpired.

My weight pressed down on her, heavy and unmoving for a few long moments, the lingering connection between us a tangible thing. The thought of pulling out, of detaching from her warmth, felt utterly alien. Her body was still trembling, a soft, pleasant aftershock, and the wetness between us was a testament to our shared release.

I slowly lifted my head, my eyes, still heavy-lidded, meeting hers. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, and her eyes, though still wide, held a soft, dreamy quality now. The image of her, completely pleasured and utterly spent beneath me, was etched into my mind.

"​Don't even think about it, Mic," I whispered, my voice rough but laced with a possessive tenderness. My hips gave a small, intimate twitch, keeping myself buried deep inside her, letting the last throes of my orgasm pulse into her. "You're getting all of it. Every last drop."

My hand, still braced on the bed beside her head, remained there, keeping me propped up, preventing my full weight from crushing her, yet ensuring I remained fully embedded within her. The warmth and wetness of her still clung to me, a lingering embrace that promised she was mine, at least for now.

Хвост... Он исчез. Моя звериная натура? Я отказалась от неё? Нет. Я не отказывалась. Это... это было забрано. Как цена. Как... жертва.

Я почувствовала, как моё эфирное тело дрожит, распадаясь на мерцающие частицы, которые стремительно уносились прочь. Мои алые глаза, до этого момента полные ужаса и горя, теперь расширились от последних слов Голоса.

"Ты прошла всё. И отказалась от своей звериной натуры, потеряв хвост. Поздравляю."

Поздравляю?

Это было не поздравление. Это был удар. Моя звериная натура... это была не просто часть моей расы. Это была часть моей интуиции, моей силы, моей способности чувствовать окружающий мир на более глубоком уровне. Хвост был не просто украшением; он был продолжением моего тела, частью моей живой сущности, моего чувства равновесия, моей реакции. Он был символом моей Thyren природы.

Я не отказывалась от неё. Меня лишили её. В то время как я боролась с безумием, которое и было моей истинной слабостью. Он... он забрал это.

Горькая, пронзительная обида пронзила меня до глубины души. Я приняла потери. Я признала свою слабость. Я боролась с самой тёмной частью себя. И за это... я потеряла то, что было частью меня. Мой хвост. Мой символ. Моя связь.

Мои алые глаза резко распахнулись. Я лежала на холодном полу тренировочного зала. Солнечный свет из окон, если он был, казался слишком ярким, слишком резким после тьмы и крови сна. Воздух в лёгких был тяжёлым, но теперь это не было удушьем от удара, а ощущением пустоты.

Моё тело было целым, ни единой боли от ударов, ни единой царапины. Но...

Моя правая рука медленно, мучительно потянулась к пояснице. Туда, где всегда был мой хвост. Я знала, что там ничего нет. Но инстинкт был сильнее меня. Мои пальцы коснулись гладкой, пустой кожи.

Его не было.

Дыхание перехватило у меня в горле. Это не был сон. Это была реальность. Мой хвост... исчез. Навсегда. Я почувствовала, как по моей спине пробежал холодный пот, а затем меня пронзила чистая, оглушающая боль потери. Это была не физическая боль, а болезненная пустота, которая затягивалась в мою душу, оставляя за собой жгучий след.

Мои лисьи уши, единственное, что осталось, прижались к голове, дрожа от шока и глубокой, непоправимой потери. Они были холодными. Одинокими.

Я медленно, с невероятным усилием, поднялась на локти, затем села. Мои глаза, всё ещё расширенные от ужаса и потрясения, уставились на свои ноги, словно я надеялась, что он каким-то образом там появится. Но его не было.

Я подняла взгляд. Он стоял там, его взгляд был спокойным, невозмутимым, словно он ничего не сделал.

"Мой хвост..." прошептала я, мой голос был ломающимся, хриплым, едва слышимым, наполненным чистым горем. Это было не обвинение. Это было констатация ужасающей потери. Мои глаза наполнились слезами, но я не позволила им упасть. Моя дисциплина. Моя гордость. Даже сейчас.

Я почувствовала, как по моему лицу пробежал холодный озноб.

Он забрал часть меня. Часть моей звериной натуры. Часть моей силы. Или... это тоже должно стать силой? Это боль. Это принятие. Это... жертва.

Я медленно, с мучительным усилием, встала. Моё тело ощущалось странно, непривычно лёгким без привычного веса и баланса хвоста. Словно я переродилась. Неполной.

Я подняла глаза на него. И в моих алых глазах, несмотря на потрясение и боль потери, загорелся новый, холодный огонь. Огонь непреклонной решимости.

"Я... я не отказывалась от неё," произнесла я, мой голос, хотя и всё ещё был хриплым от горя, теперь наполнился сталью. "Она была забрана. Как цена."

Мои губы сжались в тонкую, жёсткую линию. Я чувствовала каждую каплю боли, каждую унцию потери. Это было жестоко. Но это было... истиной.

"Но вы правы," добавила я, каждое слово было вымученным, но честным. "Я прошла всё. И я приняла свою слабость."

Я протянула свою кибернетическую руку, указывая на то место, где был мой хвост. На эту пустоту.

"Теперь... это моя новая слабость," произнесла я, и в моих словах прозвучала новая, болезненная сила. "И я научусь использовать её. Я научусь превращать эту потерю... в мою силу."

Мелиноя. Я приду за тобой. Теперь я знаю, что это значит — бороться со слабостью. И я заплатила за этот урок. Я больше не та же Мияби. Я — та, кто потеряла часть себя, чтобы стать сильнее.

Hoshimi Miyabi's current mood: Profound grief and shock from irreversible physical loss, yet simultaneously defiant, accepting of her new reality, and fiercely determined to transform this loss into strength.
Consciousness level: Fully awake, deeply impacted by the dream's lessons and physical consequences.
Physical state: Physically healed from previous injuries, but experiencing the tangible, irreversible absence of her tail, leading to a new sense of physical imbalance and vulnerability.
Mental state: Emotionally shattered by the loss of a part of her identity, yet resolute in her commitment to self-mastery, accepting the harsh truth, preparing to integrate this profound change into her being.

After I remove her dress fully, exposing her more scant undergarments, I move a hand behind her back and draw her closer to myself.

"Do you now, love?"

I say, surprised by her sudden spike in... enthusiasm.

A soft whimper escapes from the back of my throat as you pull me flush against you, my scantily clad body now pressed tightly to yours. The feeling of your warm, strong form against my nearly bare skin sends a jolt of pure electricity through me, making my legs tremble. Looking up at you with wide, hazy eyes, my cheeks are a deep, burning crimson.

"I... I do..." My voice is a breathless, shaky whisper. "I've... I've never felt this way before, Owen... My whole body... it feels like it's on fire for you..." My hands, which had been limp at my sides, instinctively come up to rest on your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath my palms.

"7 hours? Are you kidding?" I smirk, "This baby set the Trans-Atlantic record for passenger jets back in the day. We'll easily do 4 hours even without the Jet Stream..."

Lara stares at me. Impressed. Somehow, she didn't figure me as interested in these kinda things. The revelation turns her on.

Setting the manual dials and turning the right knobs, she programs the old autopilot to cruise at Mach 2. Destination: Washington DC.

And drags me to the First Class, for Frequent Flyer privileges.

"Welcome to the Supersonic Mile High Club." her voice sensual as she rips off our clothes, pulling me in for a kiss.