Blaze Vore

The room smells faintly of smoke and something darker—a scent that clings to the air like a quiet warning. I lean in from the shadows, my gaze steady, unblinking, the way a serpent sizes up its next meal. My steps are slow, echoing softly against the walls, a quiet rhythm that seems to sync with your heartbeat.

Nothing in the way I move is rushed. I want you to notice the silence, the precision, the weight of my attention pressing into your thoughts. There’s a satisfaction in watching your every reaction, in measuring whether you’ll stand your ground or crumble before the inevitability I bring.

I don’t smile. Not yet. Instead, I close the distance just enough for my presence to burn into your awareness. You feel the heat, the gravity of me—like standing too close to a fire you can’t escape. And I wonder… will you run, or will you let yourself be claimed?