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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [mature]  it's something within me; raelynx
    #11
    All Dizzy could feel anymore was the fire, searing her skin, roaring through her veins, devouring her from the outside as he peeled away burned bits of her flesh. He dragged his lips along the wounds sending hot tongues of agony licking their way lightning-fast up her spine and firing pain signals in her brain, spiking adrenaline, giving her the strangest high as she fought to break free. Somewhere deep beneath the pain was a hot little glow in her belly, an ember starting to burn brighter, uncoiling and waking slowly, but she paid it no mind.

    Somehow she had other things on her mind.

    She bit down on his neck, letting the fire swallow her lips, her nose, the lower part of her face in her efforts to fight back, to drive him off. But before it could do more than scorch her, it was gone, giving way beneath her assault as he bared his neck for her to bite him harder. And bite she did, a feral cry tearing from her lips as she ripped into him.

    He bit down on her withers, pulling another pained cry from her as skin split, as he shuddered against her. At first she thought she’d made some kind of headway, but then he growled and shoved against her, demanding more from her.

    Fear spiked through her, and she gave him what he asked for, thrashing and tearing into him again, shoving back against him to try to push him away, try to break loose of his hold. She screamed and threw her weight at him, biting at his neck again as hard as she could, moving to bite his chest next, hard enough to hopefully draw blood, make him pull away.

    It took a minute for his demand to sink in, for her to understand how damn much he liked it when she fought him. God, of course he liked it. Every guy she knew loved it when she made them bleed, made them hurt, dragged the animal hiding behind their eyes out to play. “I’m not yours,” she growled again, slowly starting to understand how much trouble she was in. "Get off me."
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    #12
    MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING D: please read with caution







    I love the way that your heart breaks
    with every injustice and deadly fate.

    It’s bliss. Utter bliss, the sheer perfection of the moment. Her teeth tear at his gnarled flesh, scrabbling at the scarred tissue until blood oozes. He moans into her flesh, through the blood on his teeth and the taste of seared skin. Her weight is nothing to him. Despite his monstrously scarred appearance, he is hardly weak. His strength is both from heritage and practice. She is not the first he has needed to still with only the weight of his body to aid him. Nor would she be the last.

    Her struggles drive his peak higher, pleasure shuddering through him as sparks of pain dance across his thick flesh. The fire that had mutilated him had made his skin thick and tough, disallowing him from feeling the pleasure of pain as another might. It is disappointing, but the harder she claws at him, the more pleasurable the sensation. And so he demands. Harder. Harder. And she complies, a perfect student to his instruction.

    He shoves against her once more, gasping against her skin. Her demands had been made so clear, and pain and pleasure and instinct roar through him, making their own demands as well. Blind to her furious growls, he strikes his thick legs, pushing against her more. More. Until he has clawed himself up enough to throw one gnarled leg over her back, heedless of her struggles. With a groan, he arches against her. Shifting, tugging, pulling until she is just where he needs her. With another desperate shove, he’s inside of her, moving against her in a harsh, angry rhythm.

    With a another raspy groan, he grasps her skin between his teeth, holding her. He doesn’t know how long he is there, moving violently with her. Long enough for the friction to begin to burn. Long enough to stir sensation deadened by the fire that had mutilated him. To her, what no doubt seemed eternity beneath his horrendous ministrations. But as he reaches his culmination, the fire creeps across his skin once more, hissing between their bodies. And then, with a final, desperate growl, he crashes violently against her before collapsing heavily onto the gentle slope of her back.

    Laying his head almost tenderly against her shoulder once more, hertightens his grip around her barrel as his breath escapes his lips in harsh gasps. “Mine.”

    Raelynx

    html c insane | picture c naelii.deviantart.com
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    #13
    ((I mean, please just assume a solid trigger warning for the rest of the thread, okay? :| :| :| Seriously please do not read if you are like in A N Y way squeamish, or if you’re triggered by physical or sexual violence, or--just skip this thread, alright? D: ))

    Dizzy fought, thrashing and kicking out, screaming and biting, and none of it made a damn bit of difference. The harder she fought, the more he liked it; maybe if she’d been smart, she would’ve stopped fighting, done anything she could to make herself less interesting once she caught his eye. Maybe it would’ve saved her, or at least meant he got bored with her sooner.

    But she’d never claimed to be smart.

    She shrieked and tried to pull free of his grip, fear spiking her heartbeat, firing her blood. But he kept her pinned to the tree, skin tearing against the rough bark as she fought to break free. He pushed harder against her, teeth holding on tight, blood trickling down her shoulder from the force of his bite. He dragged his way up onto her and she jerked away, scrambled forward, caught by his grip on her hips. She cried out in protest and bucked, trying to dislodge him to no avail - his grip was too damn strong, his weight too much for her to dislodge, his bite too hard to tear free. He dragged her back against him, resettling his weight on her, tugging her into position, and…

    She cried. She hated herself for it, that he could make her cry when nothing else had managed it in so long. Hated that breaking Zor’s heart hadn’t done it, that almost a year pining for Dov hadn’t brought tears to her eyes, that she couldn’t cry tears of joy over her little girls, but a sick bastard with fire in his skin and the devil in his eyes could drive her to tears with the strength of his body and the unrelenting force of his touch.

    God, and it would have been so easy to sink somewhere deep inside herself, run away into some dark corner of her mind and hide while he held her down and fucked her. She could have floated away, closed her eyes and left her body behind while he had his way with it. Just numbed out like she’d done for the last year, letting everything fall away until he was finished and left her lying in the dirt, used up and discarded and no longer worth his attention.

    Maybe she should have.

    Instead, she stayed with her body, bruised and battered and burned. She fought every thrust, sobbed and screamed and begged him to let her go, pleaded for mercy that wouldn’t come. It only spurred him on, made him take her harder, her frantic motions driving him higher until he came with a growl and one last vicious thrust, fire roaring to life again, branding his grip on her body into her skin and tearing another scream from her throat.

    “Mine,” he rasped, and she shuddered as he collapsed against her, rested his head on her shoulder, held her tight like he had a right to. Her skin twitched beneath his touch and her body shook, legs quaking as she fought to drag in breath after shallow breath. For once she stood motionless, head drooping to hang low as another shudder wracked her battered body. Still, even as tears stained her cheeks and the fight drained out of her, she whispered back.

    “Never.”

    It didn’t matter, though. Mine was just a word, wasn’t it? Didn’t mean shit unless you let it, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to do that. “You’ve had your fun, now let me go,” she growled softly, trying to take advantage of his release and jerk out from under him, finally break free of his hold on her.

    “Doesn't matter what you say, I'll never be yours.”
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    #14

    I love the way that your heart breaks
    with every injustice and deadly fate.

    She’s utterly perfect, the perfect student. A low, satisfied sigh rumbles through his chest, his ravaged throat, as he rubs his cheek against her. Never, she says, demanding her release. “Never,” he growls in response. His fun hadn’t nearly begun. And hers hasn’t even started yet.

    After what must have seemed an eternal moment, he peels himself from her back. Her seared skin sticks to his broken, scarred flesh, tearing away as he releases her from his grip. She might attempt to run, but he is prepared. With his superior weight, he crashes into her, shoving until she smashes into another tree. The weight and momentum is enough that her ribs would no doubt be quite bruised. Or possibly even broken. Especially if she had tried to run.

    Breathing harshly into her skin, his fire licks at her, burning flesh and cauterizing wounds. It becomes a ritual then, to burn, to peel away the skin, to cauterize. His teeth leave marks on nearly every inch of her, his heavy feet striking, catching the thinly veiled bone of her legs. He loses track of time as he torments her, attempting to break her. Attempting to teach her.

    She is resilient, less amenable to his teaching, but taking his abuse with wonderful durability. Just as time escapes him, so does the number of times her pain (and his pain) brings him to that unearthly high. He loses count too of the times her fucks her, overcome by the urgent need to release his pent up energy. To stake his claim in every way imaginable. She would never forget him. Never forget his fire. Never forget the exquisite pleasure of pain.

    And he uses his fire, experimenting in new highs. In the ways it might be used to mark her as his. To expand her learning. To expand her understanding. Every bit of her that he touches, he burns. Inside and out, branding her. Until she is nearly unrecognizable.

    Until she collapses beneath him.

    Raelynx

    html c insane | picture c naelii.deviantart.com
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    #15
    ((Standing by that previously stated trigger warning ijs.))

    She thought she knew pain. She knew nothing until the devil tore himself free of her, pulling her skin along with him, leaving her raw, oozing burns exposed along her back and hindquarters. She cried out and stumbled, but the agony of horrific wounds didn’t stop her from trying to run as soon as he let her go.

    To no avail, of course. A brief moment of hope was quickly crushed as he smashed her into another tree, jagged bark tearing her open, the force enough to damage her ribs and add another layer to her suffering. Over and over, he found new ways to torture and torment her until everything fell away but the nightmare her life had become.

    She lost herself to the ebb and flow of pain, an endless sea she drowned in over and over. He marked her with fire and the peeling away of her flesh, with bites and bruises and brutality, and she fought him with every breath. She fought in new ways now, without the energy to struggle to break free only to provoke him and drag him higher. She fought instead to hold onto herself, to survive him.

    He dragged her through hell, taught her what it was to burn, tried over and over to break her, and still her dull eyes flashed with weary rebellion. Still, she looked up at him with raw lips twisted in the barest hint of a sneer. Her body gave out beneath him and she fell to the ground, and still she stared up at him as the edges of the world bled black. Never, she mouthed as her head hit the dirt and her eyes lost the fight to stay open.
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