“Stupid bitch,” he rumbles, his voice like thunder, one claw skewered through her frustratingly human shoulder to pin her to the ground. “Thought you could outwit the Cinder King.”
“And did,” she spits, through clenched teeth. He growls and presses down harder into her spine; she takes it, does not let it stamp out the anger inside her.
She did it; she won, she outsmarted him, brought Vox Machina and all their godly weapons to face him down--and what got her in the end, what ruined the whole fucking plan, was just brute strength. it’s barbaric. It’s a sign of the old days, the ones he wants to drag them back to.
“And yet it does not matter,” he snarls, “and you are at my mercy, once again.”
She clenches her fists and stares ahead. She knows this gods-damned song and dance, his unsophisticated, brutal way of satisfying himself, telling himself he’s better than her, stronger than her, more than her--even though he’ll never be, even though he doesn’t have half her fucking wits and less now that he’s-
His thick, scaled cock pushes into her, without warning, without hesitation, and she screams, against her will, from the unbearable pain of it, from the feeling that she is going to break and the knowledge that this form cannot take this and yet he goes on, thrusts hard and deep into her and laughs as she feels her vision- going- blank-
She wakes up some time later. No longer a human; that form, she’s sure, was torn apart. Even as a dragon she aches; wonders how long he had his fun, after she shifted back.
She goes to move, to fly away, and feels chains against her wings. Heavy, enchanted cuffs holding her down.
The anger in her chest, already a wildfire, rages.
Re: Raishan/Conclave; noncon
“And did,” she spits, through clenched teeth. He growls and presses down harder into her spine; she takes it, does not let it stamp out the anger inside her.
She did it; she won, she outsmarted him, brought Vox Machina and all their godly weapons to face him down--and what got her in the end, what ruined the whole fucking plan, was just brute strength. it’s barbaric. It’s a sign of the old days, the ones he wants to drag them back to.
“And yet it does not matter,” he snarls, “and you are at my mercy, once again.”
She clenches her fists and stares ahead. She knows this gods-damned song and dance, his unsophisticated, brutal way of satisfying himself, telling himself he’s better than her, stronger than her, more than her--even though he’ll never be, even though he doesn’t have half her fucking wits and less now that he’s-
His thick, scaled cock pushes into her, without warning, without hesitation, and she screams, against her will, from the unbearable pain of it, from the feeling that she is going to break and the knowledge that this form cannot take this and yet he goes on, thrusts hard and deep into her and laughs as she feels her vision- going- blank-
She wakes up some time later. No longer a human; that form, she’s sure, was torn apart. Even as a dragon she aches; wonders how long he had his fun, after she shifted back.
She goes to move, to fly away, and feels chains against her wings. Heavy, enchanted cuffs holding her down.
The anger in her chest, already a wildfire, rages.