#pitfighter

[violetarcanedaily]

pit-fighter vi is so beautiful

[aobhstypwriter]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU, Kang Sae-byeok x fem reader

In which, Kang Sae-byeok is a pit fighter, getting her money by bloodying up opponents like nothing. After her breakup with you, she catapults herself into the ring every night - but when her victory streak comes to a salty end, she doesn't have anyone else to call. fluff and angst

The white floodlights in the ring light up - illuminating Sae-byeok's body in vibrance. Sweat runs from her temple down her cheek, her hair drenched and messy, hanging down in-front of her eyes as her chin dipped towards the floor. The crowd erupts in malevolent cheers as they catch sight of her - panting and ready for an actually good fight.

She brought her gloved fist right up to her face, ripping at the velcro strap with her teeth - pulling it as tight as possible, her jaw clenching in anguish.

Her abdomen glistened in the stage lights - her ears drowned in screams of biased people who'd pay to see anything get hit. Her opponent hadn't shown themselves yet - and so, she planted her feet - a wet rag strewn around her neck. Before this, she'd dumped her face into a bucket of ice water - trying any attempt to silence her own thoughts.

The announcer called out the woman's name as she stepped into the enclosed space - grimacing as she stared down Sae-byeok with incredulous intent.

Sae watched through worn eyes as the woman gathered all the saliva in her mouth - spitting it out on the mat beside her. She was big, that was for sure - the epitome of muscular.

When Sae-byeok fought, it was the only way she could get lost. So when the announcers called out for the match to begin, she rolled her tongue over her mouthguard and fought.

She usually thought about nothing but victory, her muscles tensing as she moved and slid between hits, throwing her own with staggered breaths and calculated efforts. She practically threw herself forward, packing all her energy into a punch to the face as soon as her opponent's guard dropped. Her gloved fist landed with almost no sound - but the woman had clearly not expected to get punted so hard so quickly due to her surprise reaction.

This was where it went wrong - a first punch to the face?

That was her first mistake. Sae-byeok could see anger arise so quickly in her eyes, clearly she was facing a bad sport. Fortunately, when you face someone like so - they usually lose composure when their emotions take over, and so, she'd be in for force fuelled, inexperienced attacks from here on out.

The woman threw a punch to hit, full of unbridled anger and impulsivity. Sae byeok side stepped it, shoving a shin into her upper thigh, causing her to stumble over before regaining her footing.

Just when Sae had started to believe she had the upper hand, the woman coiled up her body and dispersed a fake, diverting Sae's attention to blocking as her face fell open - available for instant damage. Sure enough, she hit with unpalatable strength right in the jaw.

Sae-byeok snapped her head back, un-eager to lose so quickly. She tried to get another kick in, but the woman had already started to swing her leg up, swiping Sae's ankle. The smaller girl stumbled back, her back meeting the wall of the ring with an unmistakable clang. That one will hurt in the morning, she thought.

The woman charged for her, pinning their bodies together just to get in another punch. Neither one of them could talk, the gum guards in their mouth protecting them from muttering complete filth to one another - but Sae-byeok could easily guess the sentences and unstrung words running through her mind.

A punch to the gut sent her head tilting back into the wall in pain, the air completely knocked from her lungs. It wasn't often that she lost a fight, but it wasn't looking so good. She wondered how she'd explain the injuries to Cheol in the morning, but that was something to worry about later.

That was it - the thought she needed to fight back harder. If she didn't win this bitch-fight, she'd have no money for a motel and none to take her brother to the market tomorrow.

She pushed with everything she had, and eventually the woman gave in for just enough time for Sae byeok to tackle her to the ground, scrambling atop her to throw more punches in. She had only managed a few before she leapt up, able to easily defy Sae's smaller frame - flipping the two of them over.

Sae struggled ineffectively under the lady's grasp, grabbing and hitting at anything she could, feeling ashamed. She'd never gone down this easily.

She braced herself, another punch gearing her way. The smack of the glove was evident throughout even the noisy crowd, Sae's nose erupting into waterfalls of spattered blood, likely staining her white sports bra. With her head pressed against the floor, she seethed in pain ready to give up. But as tears ran from her eyes to the marked floor, the woman would not stop - vengeful of fairness that had never depleted.

After the third hit, Sae-byeok had a flash of a memory, seeing bliss through the train wreck window. She thought of soft sheets, and the sound of your laughter as you lay atop her, placing gentle kisses to her starstruck face where it was now being smashed up with such disdain and intent.

She caught glimpses of your eyes in hers, the snap between love and hate giving her whiplash. It had been a year, and she she never allowed herself to think of you - knowing it would lead to something disastrous like this. She convinced herself it was fine - she had been through worse than a breakup. But it hurt more than it should've, and she could never grasp why. It wasn't just some relationship - it was you.

She had lost count of the hits now, determined again to hit back but the floor was just too inviting - exhaustion hitting her body in waves, actively fighting the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

The pain is so prominent that at first, she doesn't even notice the weight of the woman lift free from her pelvis, permanently struck with this thrumming hurt that thrived precariously in both her mind and her body. She wanted you. She wanted you to be there to pick her up, to tell her it was okay.

She had no-one. She was all alone. And on a random Saturday at 11pm, after getting the shit kicked out go her, she really noticed it.

Everything had been a distraction from what she didn't have, always thinking about money and where she'd get it - but at the same time, drinking it all away at the bar because she couldn't bare to have one sober thought. She just wanted someone to call, someone to take her home and be worried.

She wasn't crying anymore, she knew that. But things still seemed so blurry, unable to get to grips with her surrounds but somehow making out the faint line of a hand, lifted up in victory. Her hands trembled at her sides, tremors of past hiccups and old memories bubbling to the surface minute by minute.

The announcer confirmed the victory, the crowd cheering and booing appropriately - though she knew none of them cared who won or lost. they just wanted a good fight.

The floodlights dimmed, the electrical, insect like buzz softly filtering into the chatter of a lively audience - not one willing to get up and help her.

She raised a hand to her bloodied mouth, throwing the gloves to the side and ripping the guard from her gums, string of saliva and blood forging it to her aching teeth. She swirled her tongue around: no losses. But no relief came with that information - she couldn't care less if she had all her pieces. There would forever be one missing, as long as you were gone.

You got up from your sheets, hair tangled up in the most horrendous nest shape. Your breath smelled of goodnight tea and toothpaste, warm and frothy in your mouth. You were half asleep, and someone was perturbingly ringing the doorbell to your apartment. You raised your phone to your face, seeing no missed calls or anything - making you a little anxious. Who the hell was ringing at 12:57am?

You slyly grabbed a knife from the kitchen, sliding with your fluffy socks on the hardwood as to not make noise. You held it up over your torso, reaching for the latch on the handle and carefully pressing the door open. You swung it forward, pulling the knife out further in-front of you to greet whomever was standing there - body poised and arched like a black cat in the night.

You audibly gasped as you saw her standing there, only her silhouette visible against the flickering light of the accommodation hallway.

This made no difference to you - you could recognise her form anywhere.

"Sae?" you whispered, the name making her instantly lose her composure. Only you had ever called her that.

The knife, once firm between your whitened knuckles, drops to the floor with a mighty clang as you notice her state - hunched posture, cradling her ribs with only a hoodie slung over her shoulders. She's trembling - because of the cold, or the pain, you weren't quite sure. Blood stained her face, running right down from her nose to her lower V-lines. And with chapped lips, she tried her best to speak, but nothing would get past the lump in her throat.

She felt terrible for coming, but she had nowhere else - no one else.

She thought she'd made a big mistake, expecting you to yell and shout and scream at her for showing up. but instead, you leapt forward and hugged Kang Sae-byeok so hard she thought her already tampered ribs might break.

Choked sobs wrung out of the injured girl's mouth as she received the comfort, relief overtaking her body like she'd never felt. It subdued the pain a great deal, as you just rubbed her back in attempts to soothe the never-ending sobs that had been regressed for months.

"It's okay," you lulled, stroking her hair as she curled every part of herself into you. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry," she managed to muster, "I'm so sorry."

Tears start to well in your eyes too - you couldn't stress enough how much you'd worried about her since everything ended. But now that she was here, you'd already made the decision that you weren't letting go again.

She smelled the same - like ground coffee and rain.

You pulled away to examine her face, bringing your palms to her cheeks just to use your thumbs to wipe the tears away. Her tired, somber eyes faltered when looking at you - taking in everything like it was the first time.

"Come on," You soothe, "Lets clean you up."

She nods, tears still falling silently as she continues to shiver. You lift one of her arms over your shoulder, shutting the door beneath the both of you - redirecting her to the bathroom. The hoodie that had been slung on her shoulders falls to the floor as you support her, both of you simply ignoring it.

You place her down on the lidded toilet, instructing her to sit as you turn on the bath tap and and go back to the kitchen, searching your drawers for anything that might help clean her wounds. Eventually after what felt like endless rummaging, you find a rag and some rubbing alcohol.

You rush over to her - her consciousness dipping right before you arrive to catch her. You position yourself in between her legs - kneeling on the cold linoleum to clean her grazed knees first. She winces, grabbing your shoulder in support as you brush the chemicals over the fresh wounds.

"It's alright, it'll only hurt for a second," You assure her, bringing your un-dominant hand up to stroke her hand soothingly.

"Jesus, Sae," you exasperate as you take a closer look at her stomach - delicate purples, pinks and blues starting to brush right into her skin - in all the places she'd been hit. "You better not step in that ring again or I'll beat you up myself."

By the time you're done, the bath is pretty much full to the top - the steam invading every part of the room with mindless heat. It fogs up the mirrors, and you realise that's probably best - you didn't want her seeing herself so bashed up.

"Can you lift your arms?" You ask, wondering if she can even answer. To your surprise, she nods slowly, looking so allured and pained at the same time. She looks excrucially beautiful, like the remnants of a renaissance painting in pieces on your bathroom floor.

She slowly lifts them up above her head, giving you a clear view of every muscle and scar she'd ever obtained or lost. not that you'd never seen her body before - that was hardly it. It just managed to strike you with such tender feelings every time, without fail.

You lifted careful fingers to the hem of her bra, pushing it up to get it right over her head without hurting her further.

She winces as it moves past her face, brushing up against the new blood that wouldn't stop gushing.

"Sorry," you mumble quickly as you throw the ruined thing to the side, unaware that she had shook her head - there was nothing to be sorry about, and Sae stood by that.

"Can you stand up again?" You ask, raising yourself to stand and taking both her hands in yours. She mutters a quiet 'yes' and you nod in acceptance, helping her up with your fingers intertwined.

She grips statically onto you as she comes to stand, using your forearms as crutches; not that you minded at all. You helped her discard her shorts and underwear and lowered her carefully into the bath, making sure she didn't slip up.

The water immediately started to darken with spots of red, as she sat there with her knees pressed up to her chest - sniffling and breathing heavy.

"I'll be right back." you say, leaving her just sitting there to contemplate. You come back soon enough with an empty cup and a bag of ice, ready to give her when she gets out incase she culminates a black eye.

You stroke her black hair back behind her ears, her eyes closing as your fingers run through her scalp; kind of like when a cat pushes their ears back when you pet them. The image makes you smile.

You fill the cup up with bathwater and pour it over her hair, pushing her chin up so that she tilts her neck back. You do this a few more times before grabbing the rag from before just to spot it to her face.

You start at her jawline, carefully washing away the mixture of sweat and blood that ran down her body, bit by bit. Even though her complexion was throbbing with discomfort, she'd never felt more relaxed, more at home.

You place a wet hand to her cheek, forcing her to look at you as you attempt to wipe the rest of the blood away. As you sweep the rag across her cheek, she stares intently at you - a single tear falling precisely down her cheek.

"Hey," you whisper, wiping it away gently with the cloth. "I'm here now. Not going anywhere."

She smiled faintly - igniting a faint glimmer of hope in you. Sae-byeok really couldn't believe all that was happening. There was so much hurt that was so hard to push away - but there you were, with your angelic glow and your devoted selflessness. She'd never loved anyone like she'd loved you. And she really, really did.

"I didn't know where else to go." she tells you, her voice cracking. "I..."

she trails off, unable to compute her own ramblings into anything she'd declare as meaningful.

"Thank you I...I didn't mean to just show up-"

"Shhh,'' you hush. "I know. I was worried about you - I thought something like this might happen."

You laugh shortly, confusing her a little.

"We're broken up for a year and you almost die on me." You joke, looking into her sweet, wounded eyes. Exterior like a lion, soul like a lamb.

"I don't know why you're doing this." her breath hitches in her throat, her pronunciation soft - rather than monotone, like she'd usually utilise. "I don't deserve your forgiveness."

You sigh, finally using the rag to clean her bust bottom lip - brushing your fingers against the cut sensually.

"Because I love you." You confess - the weight unapparent, like you were confessing to leaving a door open on accident, or that you left something at work. To you, it was just true. Nothing but.

Before you could let her reply with anything - you grabbed the shampoo, rubbing it between your palms and then scrubbing it through her short hair as she scrunched up her nose - unbeknownst to the newfound pressure.

You washed It out with the cup again, and then, lathered her hair in conditioner, the soap forming bubbles in the water. You picked one up in your hands - pressing it onto her nose when she wasn't looking - trying your best to cheer her up. She smiled as you smiled back, before reaching up to swipe it off with your thumb.

Afterwards, you grabbed your softest towel and dried her off, letting her wear one of your shirts to bed. You tucked her in and turned the lights off - determined to just give her some space. But in the later hours of the night, you couldn't stop worrying - what if she just...stopped breathing in the middle of the night? Or had gotten punched so many times her brain was ready to give out? It was stupid - you were practically making up reasons to sleep beside her.

But when Sae-byeok awoke from a dream at 3am, and saw you sleeping soundly beside her, she was able to fall into a safe sleep immediately.

Should I do a part 2? <3

also PITFIGHTER SAE-BYEOK AHHHHHHHHHHHH

[sandmandaddy69]

[foldingfittedsheets]

I owed art!

Here's 20(5) minutes of @autismgremlin drow OC

[swaggerblonde]

Swagger Blonde Quick Plays Pit Fighter Sega Master System or OI Bloke are you startin!

[featherwurm]

Tac, as he's called, never had any choice in the way in which his body was warped for the entertainment of others. Having since escaped life as a pit-fighter, adapting to limbs that large and cumbersome is definitely a task. He's doing his best.

More about him physically:

He can manipulate his digits (individually and together) and wrists, but he can't retract (or further extend) his claws (which, contrary to here, he probably keeps clipped and filed down at this point).  They're rather large and it makes him a bit clumsy, but he can still grip things like a toothbrush or a razor (though he's slow and deliberate about using both).  He generally holds things between his middle digits since he doesn't have a thumb (he does have a dewclaw, but it's not strong enough for that type of use).  He wears shirts with large arm holes and pants that have elasticized waists if he can (buttons, zippers, and ties are too difficult to manipulate, velcro is ok).  He can write, although it is painfully slow (stiffly holding his 'hand' and using his elbow and shoulder to write) and he usually won't bother (it's enough to sign his name if he must but that's about it).  Typing is similarly slow (picking things out with his claws), although he can use a mouse designed for those with various limited hand mobility (such as a trackball), and if he were to have a computer he'd probably prefer a text-to-speech program.  Similarly, he prefers eating utensils with large, easy to hold grips (though it takes a while to get used to that).

His arms and pads are still sensitive, but it is slightly dulled, as though wearing gloves - something about the nerve connections not being quite right species to species in something like this, where he's someone who was just cobbled together for entertainment.

He has absolutely wicked teeth and a powerful jaw, in addition to being able to eat just about anything.  Something has been done to his legs and he can leap quite a distance.  He has an enormous apatite and does need quite a bit of food to be healthy and happy.

He is deeply traumatized, as is usual for a surviving pitfighter, and generally quiet and reserved, willing to do whatever is wanted of him if it will get him a meal or some peace.  He was formidable and respected in the pit, and along with Mercutio helped to protect and integrate Tom when he showed up.  He has a lot to recover from and I'm not super sure how all that goes.  Ephra isn't a bad person but is a bit MUCH(tm) and he's a bit stuck hanging out with her and her shape-shifting teacher by default.

[jasvvy]

[radheim]

Post-Game... Arinbjorn is captured and sent to the pits to fight our infamous Pit Fighter Halicarnaxus. She's quite formidable!⁠ . ⁠ #mordheim #RtheC #warhammer #aos #wargaming #tabletop #ageofsigmar #tabletopwargames #paintingminis #pirates #sartosa #paintingwarhammer #citadelminis #aos28 #darkageofsigmar #gamesworkshop #pitfighter #norse #pitfight https://www.instagram.com/p/CKTkKtfnhDe/?igshid=e7cu66a9fods