#but also stupid fuckin body doesn’t fuckin WORK PROPERLY

[vaulthuntersmybeloved]

I’m used to chronic pain with my feet cause they’re fully fucked up but because of that my hips and knees are also fucked but not as badly.

And like the pain in my feet is a constant thing which fluctuates but the pain in my hips and knees is fuckin AWFUL like all I want to do is sleep because it’s 3am and I physically cannot get comfortable because my fuckin knee is aching like someone bashed the side of it with a rock

And like because of my feet being fucked up and then fucking up my hips and knees I end up having to sit/lay weirdly which then makes the chronic pain WORSE because I’m not sitting properly

Like I just wanna sleep pls 😔

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball GT 04

✨GT Stands for Grand Theft✨

Last time, Episode 3 was fuckin’ terrible, and this episode is also horrible.  The gang is stuck on Imecka, because their spaceship was damaged, and now it’s being towed away.  Trunks doesn’t want to lose sight of the ship, but for some reason he doesn’t think to use his super powers to fly after it.  Instead, Goku suggests they intercept the tow truck with Instant Transmission.  Except, no, that doesn’t work, which is another prime example of...

✨”Good” “Ideas”, Poorly Executed.✨

Okay, so I’m not entirely clear on why Toei wanted to de-age Goku for GT.  Most likely, it was a simple nostalgia play, but that never quite rang true for me, since Adult Goku was extremely popular too, so doubling back to Kid Goku doesn’t sound like it would move the needle that much.  But one other possibility is that Toei thought Goku was getting a little too powerful, and this was a way to nerf him just a bit.  So we get this scene here, where Goku discovers his child body can’t perform Instant Transmission properly.  Like, he can vanish and reappear somewhere else, and even take people with him, but he only teleports like a few feet straight up, instead of where he actually wants to go. 

And really, Toei kind of had to take that power away from Goku in order to make the show work.  If he could teleport like he could in the latter half of Dragon Ball Z, then he could just zip back to Earth whenever he wanted.  The ship needs a new part? Goku could just teleport back to Capsule Corp and return with the item they need.  The ship is about to be destroyed in a disaster?  Goku can evacuate himself, Trunks and Pan and be safe on Earth while the ship explodes.  Is Pan lonely?   Goku can teleport her back to Earth to visit her parents for a weekend, or he could just leave her behind, since she wasn’t supposed to be on this trip in the first place. 

So is it a good idea?  Hell no.  The fact that they had to do it only proves that the spaceship journey was poorly conceived.   It’s just one bad idea with a second bad idea to patch the first one.  Two wrongs don’t make a right. 

This is supposed to be a show about Goku.  He’s the main character, and the plot and premise ought to be designed to support and promote him.  Instead, GT keeps changing Goku in a vain attempt to shoehorn him into this awkward storyline.  He has to turn into a kid, he has to lose one of his powers... Who does this serve, exactly?

Also, the way he discovers this predicament is really stupid.   Back in Episode 1, he told Dende and Popo that he didn’t mind being a kid.  And that’s probably accurate characterization.  Goku isn’t worried about how big he is or what he looks like.  But he is concerned with getting stronger and improving himself as a martial artist, so you’d think he would be frustrated if it turned out his younger body couldn’t do all the same things he could before.  My point is that you would think Goku would have tested his new kid body to see if he lost any power, since that’s his main priority.  And yet, this episode shows that he hasn’t even tried to use Instant Transmission in over a week.  It never occurred to him that he might not be able to do it anymore. 

And why can’t he teleport, anyway?  The implication is that his younger body lacks the fortitude or maturity to handle the technique, but it’s not like Instant Transmission was physically demanding on Goku’s body.   It’s not like he would teleport and then have to stop and rest because it was so hard to pull off.  It’s mentally challenging, which is why it took Goku a whole year to learn how to do it, but once he got the technique down he could pretty much spam it at will.  And Goku’s mind wasn’t affected by the wish that made his body younger.  He still remembers how to do Instant Transmission; it just doesn’t work anymore.

And yet, Goku can still use all his other abilities.  We see him do a Kamehameha in this episode, and he turns Super Saiyan in the next one.  And those techniques do take a toll on his stamina, so why is he still able to do them without a problem, but Instant Transmission doesn’t work?

Also, I just want to point out that this episode takes a loooooonnng time to establish that Goku can’t teleport anymore.  Like, he suggests it, and Trunks is all “Oh wow, you’re going to use Instant Transmission”, and then he prepares himself for like a full minute, and it doesn’t work.   And then he tries it a second time and basically repeats that whole nonsense.  It’s just a huge waste of time, and for what?  Why is so much of this episode dedicated to showing us what Goku can’t do?

And why don’t they just fly after the truck that’s hauling their ship away?  Why don’t they fly instead of just falling on their faces when Goku’s teleport doesn’t work?  Oh for fuck’s sake...

✨Is it Worse than The Roaming Lake?✨

I went back and reread my recap of Dragon Ball Episode 29, just to be certain and man, it really sucks.  And yet, at least when characters can’t fly, it’s because they’re not supposed to.  And Goku doesn’t lose powers for the sake of the plot, either.  He doesn’t whip out his Nyoibo and nothing happens and then he goes “Whoops!  Looks like my Nyoibo won’t get longer like it’s supposed to!”

Heaven help me, but this episode is

WORSE

Than the Roaming Fucking Lake.  GT is down 0-4.

Meanwhile, the mastermind behind all of Imecka’s problems, Don Kee, talks to his security goons.   The short brown guy is Gale, and the pink lady is Sheila, although I don’t think she ever got called by name in Episodes 4 or 5, so I’m wondering if this is a dub-ism.   Anyway, it turns out Don Kee has possession of the GT gang’s ship, and all he cares about is how much money he can get out of it.  Since there’s nothing aboard that’s especially valuable, and no sign of a crew, he orders the ship to be scrapped for raw materials.   You’d think it would be worth more in tact, but Don Kee isn’t interested in spaceships that work.

Meanwhile, the good guys decide to take their ship back, and they follow it to Don Kee’s impound lot, or whatever it is.  And they still refuse to fly.  They just leap around like that’s somehow sneakier.  Also, why are they sneaking around?  They’re far and away the strongest people on the planet. As it turns out, their stealth doesn’t last long, so they have to fight their way out of this place anyway.  Well, at least there’s a little action in this episode.

During the battle, Pan commandeers the big green tow truck thing and drives it out of the city.  Wouldn’t it be simpler for them to just carry the ship and fly it out under their own power?  I’m pretty sure Pan is strong enough to lift the ship by herself, but even if she’s not, how in the hell does a kid like her know how to drive an alien truck?

So they shoot their way out, and Goku even fires a Kamehameha to get past Gale and Sheila.   This is noticed by a third security good named Ledgic, who suspects that Goku and his group are Saiyans.

Later, Don Kee gets the bad news and he dresses down Gale and Sheila for failing to stop the intruders, but he’s very careful not to say anything mean to Ledgic.   Basically, Ledgic is supporting Don Kee’s corrupt regime for a fee, but Don Kee has to be careful not to piss Ledgic off, since he’s kind of the lynchpin of his entire rule over this planet.

Meanwhile, Goku, Trunks and Pan have their ship back, but it got pretty banged up in the caper they pulled the night before.  So Trunks fixes as much as he can, but they have to go back into town to buy more parts.  But this time, no one wants to do any business with them, because they’re now considered wanted criminals.  There’s posters of them and everything.

Then the local authorities start coming after them, and they have to run away.   Oh, for fuck’s sake!  Pan’s been a holy terror this whole series.  She barged into a hostage situation because it kept her from seeing a movie.  She stowed away on a spaceship because she wasn’t getting enough attention. But she won’t fight cops on a planet that’s clearly corrupt and dishonorable?  That’s the line she won’t cross?

✨Positivity Page✨

Man, the Imecka episodes are liquid death.  As bad as the Roaming Lake was, at least it wasn’t a three-parter.   I came up with this positivity bit as a way to say “no hard feelings” to GT-likers, but we’re only four episodes into this turkey and I’m really struggling here.

You know, I’ll give some love to these wanted posters.  I wish the real GT Pan was more like the knife-weilding maniac in this image.  She’s carve Don Kee a new smile or three, and that’d be pretty satisfying. 

Actually, with that vicious smile and the fingerless gloves, she almost reminds me of Pan’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great granny Luffa.  So that’s a good thing, I guess.  For me, at least.   The rest of you are on your own, I suppose.  Self high five?

✨The Blade Braxton Memorial Haiku*✨

Blade Braxton (1975-2021) was a legend in the field of pro wrestling podcasts.  Among his many talents was the uncanny ability to condense a week’s worth of wrestling gossip and rumor into a quick, easy-to-read poem.  Since I wish to spare others the hassle of watching Dragon Ball GT, I have decided to perform a similar service in honor of Mr. Brakestown-sensei’s memory.

Some Imeckians

Don’t have noses.  They couldn’t

Afford the payments.

[auxxrat]

I recently decided to re-watch a play though of Detroit Become Human and the au I came up with—

I don’t know if anyone else has come up with this idea but hear me out.

Anakin is the creator, somewhere down his line of success his wife, Padme and her close friend, Shaak, get into a horrible car crash and fucking die. In his sadness Anakin kinda has a moment where he thinks he’s fucking god so he breaks into the hospital, fucking steals the parts of his wife and her friends body(mostly the brain, heart, anything that would hold who they were when alive) and makes fucking androids out of them. Of course the government sees this and is like “dude??? Dawg????” And goes after Anakin. Anakin, after giving the Shaak model to who he in intended to, takes the time to hide the Padme model and fucking dips. Never seen again.

Ashoka, his adopted sister who knows Anakin more than anyone can smell that something is up. She does her own investigation(she’s the one who finds Padme and when she does Padme is fuckin awake and no longer stuck in her computer mindset), but so does the government. They send in a detective android (basically just a police officer model based after Obi-wan) to investigate and go to anyone who knew him for info.

That’s where Obi-Wan and Jango get introduced(ofc there’s a little more storyline to them so it’s not just thrown there, at the time Obi-wan shows up to where Jango lives this poor man is already fighting for his life against his own android who just broke her own computer programming). Obi-wan tries to investigate but ofc Jango is like no nope nothing here lol, Obi-wan isn’t stupid but he doesn’t press any further. Instead, he follows some leads that RUMOR Anakin to be hiding out in a certain area. When Obi-wan goes down to that area he gets jumped and banged up to the point his robot ass cannot work properly. Breaks down in the alley, Anakin finds him (Anakin is living his sewer rat life). He fixes Obi-wan, Obi-wan wakes up but this time has absolutely no computer programming. He freaks, him and Anakin talk.

Anakin explains how he hates what the government did with his work, also kinda feels bad for what he did to his wife’s body and mind when trying to recreate her. They also talk about the fact more and more Androids are “waking up” from their programming and “becoming human”.

I haven’t gotten past that part but mMMMM

[bloodyhell-lucifer]

Daddy is the devil | Lucifer Morningstar

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x fem!reader

Summary: Reader is one of Chloe’s best friends and they haven't seen each other for a long time so the decision was made. Finally a sleepover at Chloe’s house since Chloe has a day off of work and Dan took Trixie with him to have some dad-daughter time. What they didn't know is that Lucifer will come with unexpected visit and reader’s shirt will cause such a mess.

Warning: language, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, daddy kink, +18

Based on this request: Hello, I hope you are doing well, I would like to politely request a one shot (or more if it inspires you, you do you) from Lucifer, you can do whatever you want with it, reader insert, oc, smut, no smut, totally up to you but I would like it to involve Lucifer meeting/seeing the reader/character (preferably female, gender neutral is also fine) wearing that crop top from Blackcraft that says “Satan Is My Daddy” please and thank you

Notes:

Thank you so much for this request sweet anon! I couldn’t wait to write it down because this idea was so cool.

To be honest it’s my first real one request so I’m pretty excited and also this is my first smut so I’m not so proud about it. I think I don’t know how to write them. Someone teach me?

If there are some mistakes let me know because English isn’t my first language so as soon as possible I’ll correct it.

If you would like to send me a message, ask me about something or send me a request about imagine then the link is in my bio so feel free to message me! I would like to know you better and read your ideas and write them down😄

If you guys like my shitty writings you can follow me for more. I’ll be posting new things sooner than you think and thanks for so much activity under my posts and all the follows, it means a lot and I love u so so much xx

You and Chloe had everything planned for tonight. When you were talking on the phone to discuss the details you decided to have a movie night with some alcohol. You bought some wine, chips and sweets for you and your friend to have some snacks. Feeling of excitement was huge about finally seeing your friend after such a long time. You showed up at Chloe’s door about seven pm ringing a bell to her door. After few seconds the door were open and Chloe lean out from behind of it.

“Oh my god hi girl, so good to finally see you.” she enveloped you in a big hug wrapping her hands around your neck.

“Hi Chloe, long time no see.” you hugged her back. With a gesture of her hand she invited you inside and you stepped in.

After two hours you two were slightly drunk and making fun comments over character that was on the screen of tv during the movie.

“So tell me Chloe, some time ago you were taking to me on the phone about that guy you were working with that just have some attitude and always have something to tell and joke about. What was his name again? Lucian?” You asked her taking other sip from glass of wine.

“Lucifer to be exact. His name is Lucifer.” on her face appeared frown and she raised her brows. “Why you asking?”

“Just asking. You like him?” Hint of concern could be felt coming from your lips.

“Of course I like him. I work with him. He’s my partner.” she responded and nervously began to rub her hands against her thighs.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Is he that handsome that it’s bothering you?” you got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to pour yourself another glass of wine since you finished the last one.

“Please stop. He’s definitely not my type. He’s arrogant, has got a big ego and always have that stupid smile on his face every time we go somewhere.” She folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes.

“Oh I hope I’ll meet him someday. I want to know who’s working with my best friend.” you winked at her and laughed along Chloe.

“Some day for sure.” Chloe was praying that this whole Lucifer topic will end with that. “Tell me you have someone?” She tried to change the topic of that conversation.

“Of course not. Some time ago I had a date with this guy named Brian but it didn’t go well and I lost hope for finding someone.” You said going back to couch and putting your glass on the coffee table that was in front of you. “Listen I’m gonna go and change because this jeans are so uncomfortable and I’m losing my shit with them” You grabbed your bag and went to bathroom to change. You picked your normal pjs which were just crop top with caption ‘Satan is my daddy’ on it and black bottoms.

“Oh Jesus Y/N what a shirt” Chloe blurted as soon as she saw you.

“It’s just a crop top Chloe. Can you just chill? We are already drinking a second bottle of wine and you still seem so stressed about something.” You declared after seeing her sitting so tense. One of the movies you’ve chosen was still playing in the room and none of you was watching it so Chloe switched it to music channel.

“Y/N I’m so sorry. I know I screwed this up. I’ve been stressed about work and Trixie and I don’t know what to do. I hoped I will invite you, we will have fun together after long time and this feelings would go away, but I guess it doesn’t go away and I can’t have fun. I messed up” she sighed and got up from the couch to just stand in front of you having her hands on your shoulder.

“We’re all humans after all, Chloe. I get it and I understand. You don’t have to worry. We can talk about it if you want and we still have time to make it fun. Go get change into your pj’s and and I’m expecting you turning back with a smile on your face.” You smirked to her and went up to set new snacks on coffee table.

When Chloe returned she didn’t have time to say anything because the bell from the door rang immediately.

“Did you invite anyone else?” You asked curiously.

“Of course not. Just you and me. No one else.” She added going to the door to check who was that. You were just standing right behind her.

She opened the door and Chloe saw the the last person she wanted to see today.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed and it was obvious that she didn’t want that person’s presence. You still couldn’t see who that person was.

“Oh don’t be so rude detective. I was in the neighbourhood and I thought that I’ll stop by with a visit.” You heard men’s strong deep voice with a British accent.

Chloe was so tired of this. She didn’t have strength to fight with that man and let him in and then you saw him. The man was a lot taller than you, shit he towered over you. You were so shock seeing that handsome man that you though that you were having a hallucinations seeing a Greek god. He had pitch black hair with little stubble. His hazel brown eyes were twisting into yours like he wanted to see every inch of your soul. Of course his devilish smile was there too to give him another hundred points to looking too fuckin’ good. He was dressed in fancy black suit and black button up that hugs his body so perfectly. You could see from distance that under all that suit he must be having a nice, trained body. Is that legal to look that handsome? You though to yourself.

“Bloody hell detective, I didn’t know you were having a company.” He sent you an evil grin and came into your way. Chloe stood there and she was about to say something when that man spoke to you.

“Hi, my name is Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” He stepped closer to you and took your hand in his. He kissed the top of your hand.

“Like the devil?” You asked and you didn’t know if to laugh or to start panicking.

“Don’t bring my dad into this darlin’. Yeah, like the devil.” He still was having that smirk that could knock you off of your feet by any second. “And you are?”

“I’m Y/N” you gulped suddenly feeling naked under Lucifer’s gaze.

“Oh that’s a real beautiful one” he responded and lean in just to be few centimetres away from your figure. He took one of strands of your hair and put them behind your ear whispering to you. “I really like your shirt baby.”

You wanted to say something, anything but you just couldn’t. You didn’t want to believe that is was that guy Lucifer that you were asking Chloe about.

“Okey enough, Lucifer. Leave Y/N alone. What do you want?” Chloe closed the door behind him and asked Lucifer with frown on her face and furrowed brows. She had her hands on her hips and she really looked like she was not in the mood for such things.

“I said loud and clear I came just to check on you, but now as I see your friend I might want something.” He chuckled and looked at you again. You were so intimidated by his presence that you were looking down at the floor in that moment with blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Can you stop being the perv that you actually are? If you don’t stop you’ll have to leave.” She urged staying in the hallway. Chloe really was pissed off.

“Okey dokey.” Lucifer raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender and he stepped back from you and went to the living room and you and Chloe follow along.

“Okey ladies, let’s start the night properly” Lucifer loud voice echoed through the room and you already had known that you gonna regret it later.

Chloe told you and Lucifer that she had enough of drinking and that’s it. She was not the one to convince so you and Lucifer were left to the alcohol that still was in the house. After another two bottles of wine and another two hours later in the night Chloe’s phone started buzzing and within moments she went to grab it and answered the call leaving the room. You knew you two were pretty drunk but you could still manage with yourself. Lucifer on the other hand after that two hours ended up with his shirt half unbuttoned and messed up hair after you challenged him to do so. You couldn’t get your eyes off of him sitting like that with his legs spread out and your whole body was screaming to straddle his lap. You though you were going to drool yourself at sight of his muscular torso. You felt pretty damn wet in your panties after sights like this.

“Guys I’m leaving for now. I’ll be right back but Dan called me saying that Trixie is burning up and probably having a fever. I’m going to pick her up. I have already ordered a taxi. Please don’t do something stupid. Y/N, I’m counting on you” Chloe shouted to you putting on her shoes, already changed and slumming her front door shut.

“Guess we have some time alone sweetheart.” Black-haired man said to you turning his head towards you. He put one of his massive hands on your thigh and you sighed after his touch touching your sensitive skin. Your knees were touching and you felt shiver running down your spine. His face was millimetres away from yours. The pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip making you tremble. Your breath hitched as Lucifer smirked at you.

“What do you say baby girl? I know you want me.” He seductively admitted. His deep voice echoing through your years. You felt like you were in trance. Thoughts and consequences be damned, you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anything, and fuck anything that was in your way.

His thumb moving away from your lips as he was leaning in closer to you. His lips ghosting over yours. His hands cupped your face with his two hands caressing your cheeks. Both of you starred at each other. Your eyes fluttered closed as Lucifer laid his lips on yours. He kissed you passionately, your lips moving in sync. Lucifer’s eyes fluttering closed as well. He grabbed a hold of your hair pulling at them causing a moan felt from your lips as the kiss began to got deeper and needer. You decided to make a move and straddle his lap. His fingers moved from your jaw to your hips digging into them harshly. Your fingers quickly unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Your hands didn’t waste time to trail down his muscular torso what made him groan into the kiss. You broke the kiss first moving your head down towards his exposed chest, pressing your lips against it. You trailed wet, sloppy kisses down his chest, then down towards his stomach. Stopping above the waistline of his pants. Lucifer smirked down at you, as you got on your knees. Looking up at him, as you undid the button of his pants, then unzipped the zip pulling his pants down, as well as his boxers, you freed his growing bulge. Lucifer let out a hiss, as his cock sprang up, while you bit your lip. You stared at his big cock in awe making your way back to the couch to sit next to him.

“You like what you see baby girl? Would you like daddy’s cock in your tight, little pussy of yours? He asked grabbing a firm hold of your jaw making you look him straight into his eyes.

“Hell yes, please daddy” you said arching your back to get some friction from your actions.

Lucifer lowered you to the mattress, your back met the rough material of the living room’s couch. It felt so inviting, so intimidating. You wanted that so badly, your entire body screamed for pleasure. You felt air leave your lungs because of the handsome man has begun to kiss your neck. Your chest were heaving, you raised a hand to the base of his neck and held him there as he sucked strong marks onto your skin. Little moan left you, while your body began to surrender to him.

“You’ll be in hell soon darlin’. Sorry baby but this shirt needs to get out with rest of your clothes but it’s so beautiful and welcoming.” He quickly made you get rid of your clothes quickly. When Lucifer bended down while still keeping his brown eyes locked with yours his tongue swiped a lick atop your breast, then immediately took your stiffened tit in his mouth to suck. His other hand worked on massaging your other breast and you forgot about everything around you and let your body take over as your mouth produced another groan. That’s when he decided to pull your nipple lightly in between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” you exhaled the curse in ecstasy.

“Naughty girl aren’t you.” Lucifer grinned, but his tone suggested he’s aroused with your language. His hand ran down the plane of your stomach and slipped down to feel your pulsing desire. You could see it in his eyes how pleased he is at the amount of slickness he felt coating his fingers. He toyed with your clit in deliberately slow circles, and you whined at his touch while moving your hips to receive more stimulation. But Lucifer’s fingers went on to explore further inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the gasp that left your lips as he began to stretch you. He bended down again so that his face is above yours, cologne so strong yet soothing. Lucifer’s kisses were hot and needy. His tongue made a reappearance and became acquainted with yours. Your next gasp bled into a groan into his mouth when he added another finger.

“Yeah, please daddy, I want your cock so bad inside me.” you practically begged.

His fingers may be removed from your sopping heat, but in their place, Lucifer’s bending cock slided between your legs to coat it with your wet pussy. Dark haired man finally entered you. Your back lifted off the bed as you let out a lust-filled cry. It was a tight and delicious fit with your muscles constricting around his eager girth. The man’s lips twisted up at the sound and creates his own unbridled groan.

“Spread your legs wide, babydoll. Take the devil all in.” He was so big you didn’t even know how you can adjust, but your body found a way to relax enough for Lucifer to slide in deeper.

Your eyes squeezed shut at how he stretched you fully, but your voice begged him to move, to give you more. He went on to create a steady rhythm with his hips and all with that filthy comments on how tight and perfect you felt around him. You made another desperate noise as you continue your ascent, which prompts him to ask between grunts, “Speak, love. What do you need from daddy?”

“Your big hands with your fingers daddy” you somehow told with filling voice your need amidst your hedonistic sounds.

“It’s going to the direction I didn’t know it’s going” Lucifer laughed with devilish smirk upon his face.

It was what you need after all, the extra stimulation to bring you closer and closer to what could be the strongest orgasm of your life. In a series of ‘yes’s and curses, you reached another plane of existence. Flashes of white light grew behind your eyes while your mouth widened. Lucifer, in turn, exhaled a shaky and pleasurable moan as your body repeatedly constricted and pulled around his cock.

“Oh shit, doll, just right there.” He came inside you, hot and fast, and you feel the descent of your high flow through you. Every part of you was warm and exhilarated and thoroughly pleased. When Lucifer pulled out from you, he rolled over back onto the couch. His grin read that his own desires have been fulfilled. You knew you got yourself into a deep shit and there’s no way going back.

[ihatebnha]

Yes hi can I geettttttt one large Katsuki with a side of dick please?

yes ma'am coming right up....... ok its ready come pick it up at the register

keyword: LARGE katsuki... extra large... 2 XL.... 3 xl.... head go brrrrr

premise: where in which you model dynamight’s new clothing line and for whatever reason dynamight himself can’t keep his hands off of u...

enjoy <3<3 i kinda popped off lowkey (even tho i ended up using his hero name smh im sowwy)

-

It’s not like you’re small.

You think you’re a good size. Absolutely fine, of a perfect height, in a perfect body, everything. There is not a single thing about you that isn’t normal or expected, and for all the time you spend thinking about your looks, in the end, your body, for all it’s worth, is yours and actually quite comfortable.

But damn. If Katsuki Bakugo, the infamous, the incredible, Dynamight, isn’t one of the largest men you have ever seen in your fucking life.

In comparison to him, you might as well be the size of a kid. A doll.

It’s not like you didn’t know this... or at least, could have guessed. His height is broadcasted to the world in all the interviews he’s in, and mentioned in almost every hero gossip magazine like it’s the only cool thing about him… It’s just that, in real life, he’s a bit more... imposing… than you thought he would be. 

The only real images you have of him are from the sports festivals you watched when you were younger, and the blurry shots from the news that play on repeat almost every day.

Neither of which truly encapsulate the sheer size of him in comparison to you, and really, what a powerhouse of a man he actually is.

Bakugo towers over everyone, at least by a full head, and what he doesn’t have in height, he makes up for in bulk. His body is nothing less than that of a statue’s, and by all means just goes to show anyone, villain or not, that he is an absolute machine of destruction, a predator, you name it, wrapped in muscle and sinew and brutal, pink scars.

And he is currently shirtless, standing on the well-lit, white tarp of the studio background, waiting for you.

“Where’s the new extra?”

He bemoans, his expression curved into a mean scowl, practically stomping a foot in the direction of his manager, to which your stomach does flip flops and your heart sinks. Too busy caught up in watching him from afar, you rush to pull off the robe they draped you in and hurry to his side, dressed only in a Dynamight themed lingerie set and boots, held together with ridged, green garters.

“I’m here, I’m sorry, I-“

Bakugo’s eyes flit to yours, halting your nervous words instantly, before moving his gaze to look you up and down as he nods his head back and gestures to his side.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he purrs, his voice deep and rough, a hand reaching out to grab your arm, “Get over here.”

You nod, quickly, your teeth knocking together as you move into position beside him and face the camera that’s been teasing you since you got here.

Hired to model a new line of intimate, Dynamight clothing march, you know that his agency only called you because everyone else on their roster had quit. They called you because supposedly Dynamight was sick of looking at “models…” and said that out of everyone, you were the only one he had approved of… Though you know that probably just means that all the other girls were chased away by Bakugo’s mean snarl, and you were the first replacement to answer the phone.

Still…

Part of you doesn’t entirely believe that, at least if the way you feel Katsuki Bakugo practically salivating over your shoulder is anything to go by, his wide chest against your back as he very, non-discreetly presses his hips into your ass and runs his thick hand over your sides.

And when the sounds of shutters start going off, your expression now neutralized for the camera and nervousness long buried for another time, you can’t help but let yourself lean back into him, your hands moving to rest on his as he grips your waist with the strength only a hero in the Top Ten could have.

-

If you thought that Bakugo was large before… you are definitely not disappointed now.

You are on your knees in front of him, his legs spread to accommodate the way you sit between them, and your hands on his thighs as he hastily frees his cock from the cage that is his sweatpants.

You can’t help but gape, staring open-mouthed at the already hard member, which curves upward toward his belly and is surrounded by fine, blonde pubes.

“Surprised?” he mutters, a knowing lilt to his raspy voice, enjoying the sight of you going slack jawed, and he smirks at your expression, his canines bared and eyes heavy-lidded.

It’s large. So large you suddenly wonder what you’re doing, and how the hell you’re going to please him properly. He’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen probably... ever, and though the feelings are mostly overwhelmed by a twisted sense of desire, fear strikes your heart when you think about taking him in your mouth and… elsewhere.

You narrow your eyes, one hand reaching out to gently grip the shaft, the head unashamedly dripping a milky precum which you use to give him a few timid pumps before looking to his eyes for confirmation that that is what he wants.

He groans immediately, almost sounding relieved, throwing his head back onto the back of the chair as you shyly work him.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, you know,” he says into the air, “You and that fuckin’ body.”

To be honest, it’s no surprise, especially when you consider how he practically didn’t take his hands off you the entire shoot, and think about the fact that in more than a few of the photos you took, his mouth was on some part of your body…

You can’t help but worry your lip between your teeth thinking about it, blinking up at him and staying silent.

“What, you scared of me or something, baby?”

Bakugo tilts his head toward yours, an eyebrow raised in question, aiming to close the gap between your faces but not quite entirely. 

“No, I just…” you hesitate, unsure of how to proceed. If anyone knows how attractive Bakugo is, it’s he himself, and you definitely don’t want to ruin the moment by saying something stupid.

You also don’t want him in on the information that you’ve never been with a guy so big, alongside the fact that you’ve never been with a Pro Hero of his caliber, either, afraid that maybe he’ll mock you for your inexperience or sudden petulance, and in thinking so, you settle with a shrug, a smile, and a simple,

“I’m just nervous.”

Though your hand on his dick slows to an embarrassing stop, being that you’re too preoccupied with trying to fight the urge to shy away from his intense red eyes, his smile only returns, still cocky, still Bakugo, but nonetheless quite sweet. 

And in his smile, in the way he wraps one hand around yours on his cock before leaning down to kiss you, it doesn’t take much thought to know that he’ll most definitely take care of you, big dick or not. 

He’s a hero, after all, the biggest one you know. 

-

The pictures end up being released about a month later, to which all of your friends (and almost the entirety of Japan) immediately pick up their phone to ask you about. They gush over Dynamight, telling you how lucky you are to have scored the modeling gig, to have been so up close and personal with the Dynamight himself, but you can only laugh in response.

Looking at the photos, though, you can see what they mean, as once again you are reminded of just the sheer size of him, the images doing nothing to hide the way your head doesn’t even reach his chin, or how his fingers on your waist easily dip toward your belly button in a tight squeeze.

Or the fact that in all of them, he looks at you like he’s absolutely, positively smitten.

And from the glaring, possessive look in his eyes, you are also reminded of your escapade in the dressing room, the way Bakugo smiled at you, and the large cock that will haunt your sexual fantasies for the rest of your life.  

It’s honestly no wonder that, when the Dynamight himself posts a photo from the shoot on his personal page, the caption is a bold, “call me.”

[mirkosintern]

Crawlin’ back to you

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut with a lil angst and fluff if you squint

notes: reader is a member of the lov, set in the meta liberation army arc (before the war!), possessive dabi, wowee this is my first work!! I never expected myself to be able to write a piece but here we are ehehe this was inspired by a certain tiktok actually. U may have already noticed but the title is from the song do I wanna know? by the arctic monkeys<3

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, cum play, dubcon-ish?, toxic relationship, degradation, vulgar language, alcohol

word count: 3k

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That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day Crawlin’ back to you Ever thought of callin’ when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy bein’ yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

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Dabi wasn’t one to do feelings. He’s screwed numerous women, but they were nothing more than some toys to fulfill his sexual needs. Neither did he want to have feelings, nor did he need to. Afterall, his side hoes who begged to stay with him even after all the degradation he’s given them disgusted him the most. He would snicker at their pathetic attempts and cut them off ruthlessly.

However, you were an only exception.

No, he did not have feelings for you, he swears he never did and never will. But you were different from his other disposable sluts--he kept you around. He didn’t ghost you, instead, he kept coming back. It is only because you’re a member of the lov as well, he thinks. You are easy to access since you’re always around the lov base, and he doesn’t even have to worry about getting caught by civilians or stupid bitches who suddenly decide to turn him into the police. You guys were practically co-workers with benefits, fuck buddies where the “buddies” part is questionable.

Dabi didn’t mind that he made an exception for you until that night. That very night where you sleepily decided to crawl into his arms after a rough round and whispered him how you loved the rough texture of his skin against yours. That very night where you pressed delicate kisses beneath his jaw. The moment of intimacy—making his heart pound and warmth spread beneath his cold skin—was threatening. You were threatening.

That’s where he cut you off completely. He did not knock on your bedroom door located in the lov base anymore. He stopped sending those “you up?” texts at 3am. He didn’t even lock eyes with you or talk to you anymore.

It feels as if something heavy dropped inside you, squashing your heart to the point where it’s painful. You try your best to ignore the pang in your chest and remind yourself that you guys were nothing more than co-workers with benefits. However, the enduring heartburn only functions to make you realize how attached you were to him. He’s Dabi, the biggest scumbag you will ever meet, what did you expect? What were you thinking? It should be no surprise this happened, right? But having to encounter his stupidly handsome face every day was not doing any help. You are a girl with dignity, you tell yourself, trying your best to ignore his strong scent of campfire and cologne drowning you every time you guys are in the same room.

The pain is suffocating you for weeks, and you finally decide to completely get over him. The night Dabi brings a bimbo to his room and fucks her loud enough for everyone in the lov to hear—for you to hear—you’re done with everything. You step outside, get drunk, do anything to numbify the pain the raven-haired guy has caused you, and even meet a nice-looking guy who seems to be interested in you.

You are doing good without Dabi.

You don’t need Dabi anymore.

You are not letting him get to your head.

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A party.

League of villains is all about privacy, but they also started having some fun after uniting with the meta liberation army. Now they had sufficient money, people and place to throw parties every now and then without the danger of getting caught by civilians. Afterall, a number of heroes were in their side as well.

“Not gonna lie, you guys do know how to host parties.” Keigo smirks, picking up a glass of bourbon whiskey. “It’s fuckin’ lame,” Dabi answers as he downs a glass of liquor.

“So, what happened with y/n?” Keigo throws a suggestive smile.

“The hell you mean what happened with her?” Dabi frowns.

“Y’know, didn’t you guys used to be a thing or something?”

“Nah, she was an occasional fuck and that’s it.”

“Oh really? The Dabi I know never fucks a same bitch twice though. I thought she was something special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah, thought maybe you actually wanted her.”

A smug grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Never even liked her.”

“Have you seen her and her new boyfriend?”

The smile is quick to vanish from his face after hearing the word boyfriend. Dabi’s eyes widen, immediately glaring at Keigo. Before he could say anything, Keigo tilts his chin to point something.

“There they are.”

Dabi turns his head only to find you clinging onto some guy’s arm. Your cheeks are flushed –a pretty, pink glow on your face—as you bat your eyelashes at the guy. Bubbly giggles escape from your lips while you stare at him through half-lidded eyes. The guy’s arm is secured around your waists, pulling you closer to him.

Dabi sees red.

His entire body freezes as his grip around the liquor glass tighten. Dabi doesn’t say anything for a moment, but there is no way Keigo wouldn’t pick up how his cerulean eyes are flaming at the sight. “Well, I thought you knew.” Keigo pats Dabi’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t matter anyways right? You never liked her.”

“…Right.” Dabi takes another sip from the liquor, his eyes still fixed to you.

Keigo’s words are true; at least they are supposed to be true. Dabi didn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t do romance. No feelings were ever involved with any of the women he’s slept with, and he made sure of it. It was so clear for Dabi without a question.

But why is it unable for him to erase the sight of you with some guy as he forces himself to sleep that night? Why are your sweet giggles echoing his head? Why can’t he get rid of the thought of you in that tight, black dress that perfectly complements the curves of your body? Why is the moment where the guy places his hand on your inner thigh replaying in his head? Why are thoughts of you messing with his mind?

“Fucking hell.”

Dabi gets up. This was fucking annoying. You were truly fucking annoying.

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You tilt your head to check the glowing digits of your digital clock on the nightstand. 2:15am. It’s late, and you haven’t even taken off the dress you wore to the party. You are too tired both physically and emotionally. You’ve done quite a decent job in entertaining the man who’s accompanied you through the whole party, but it was truly an energy-consuming task. You and him walked around as if you guys were the happiest couple in the party; but the truth is that you guys aren’t even properly dating yet. Solely because you have constantly been refusing to properly answer him asking you to be his girlfriend. It’s not that he’s bad looking or anything, but the idea of being with him just doesn’t sit right with you. Ever since you’ve met him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you without asking you anything about consent. You always had to pull his hand away with an uncomfortable smile, yet he never took a hint. However, when a dating rumor about you and him started and spread quickly, you didn’t try to correct anything. Maybe it was because you wanted to pull out a reaction from a certain villain. Maybe your unusual actions at today’s party; clinging onto the guy and laughing at every single word he spoke; was to make Dabi witness how happy you were.

 Truthfully, you were dying inside.

 What was even worse was that none of your attempts seemed to bring an ounce of reaction from Dabi. When have you become so pathetic and desperate? You feel tears welling up in your eyes, hot and burning, but you don’t want to cry. Not for an asshole like him. You take out your phone, find the guy’s name, and text him that you don’t want to see him anymore. You feel a little guilty, thinking that you may have used him to provoke something from Dabi, but your thoughts are too worn out for you to comprehend anything. You flop onto your bed and bury your face in your pillow. You huff out a deep sigh, and the soft texture of your cotton pillow feels warm on your cheeks. In all honesty, you were thinking about Dabi the whole time you were at the party. Whenever the guy’s hand creeped up your thighs or gripped on your ass, you imagined it was Dabi’s, trying your hardest to feel something from the contact.

 You weren’t over Dabi. You never were. Realization hurts, leaving a sour feeling in your mouth.

 Your body shoots up at the sudden, loud slamming sound emerged from your door. Your teary eyes widen at the lean man slamming the door shut. “Dabi?” You ask, not believing your eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” Without an answer, Dabi’s one hand reaches for your throat as his other hand grips your wrist. His large body is towering over you, and you feel your bed shift as he dips one knee in the mattress. His sapphire eyes pierce through your soul, and you can feel his raging anger just from looking at him.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

“Dabi, what are you-“

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, pulling you in for a heated kiss. Your lips open reflexively, enabling him to deepen the kiss. The kiss is aggressive, and he doesn’t know whether it is because of his anger or his pent-up desires towards you that he has been suppressing. The kiss gets sloppier over time, hot and wet with saliva and tongue. He lets go of the grip on your wrist and starts tracing your inner thigh with his thumb, and you let out a soft moan. You finally pull away from the kiss to catch your breath, but he doesn’t cease to caress your thigh. Instead, he lowers himself to your ear. “You seem to really love thigh touches, don’t you?” His low voice and hot breath brushing the shell of your ear sends chills down your spine.

“Huh?”

“I always knew you were a slut, but never knew you were this much of a whore. You would bend over any guy who offers you some touches, right?”

Tears swell in your eyes again at his vile words, but it’s hard to talk when his knuckles are repeatedly brushing your clit.

“I’m… not a slut…nngh.” Suppressed moans escape your lips.

“Yeah? Why are you making those sounds then?”

“Dabi…”

He yanks your dress up and dips two fingers inside your lace panties, making you let out a weak yelp. Dabi raises his brows with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, so she indeed is a slut huh? You get this fucking wet from a kiss?”

His two digits start pumping inside you, and you grip on his white shirt at the sudden sensation. Your gasps and moans get louder, and you suddenly feel his wet lips against your neck. Dabi sucks hard, making sure to leave dark purple marks from your jaw to your neck and shoulder, as he repeats the step of curling his fingers and pulling them inside and out your hole. “Dabi…too fast.” You whine out. “Yeah?” A sadistic grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Be a good slut and take what I give you.” His thumb reaches for your clit, making your legs shiver.

“Nngh…stop, I’m gonna… Dabi I’m gonna cum.”

“Stop? You want me to stop?”

“No!”

“Do you deserve it though?” he slows his pace while teasing your clit. “Beg.”

It’s humiliating, really—but do you have any other choice when you are this close?

“Please, Dabi… I’ll be your good slut. Please let me cum!” Your desperate cries have him pumping his fingers fast again, and soon you’re seeing white. Hot drops of release coat Dabi’s fingers as he pulls out.

“Say ah.”

“A-ah.”

You obey, and Dabi sticks his digits inside your mouth. Your mouth wraps around them immediately, sucking as if it’s a pacifier. “Good girl,” Dabi says as he pats your head, and it makes your stomach swoop with sick pride.

The bulge in his pants is becoming painful, and he contemplates on fucking your mouth. But he’s too impatient; He feels the need to abuse your cunt right now. He wants to hear your screams and cries as he proves who you belong to.

“Take that off.” Dabi gestures at your dress, and you start undressing as he demands. Dabi pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, causing his cock to spring out. It’s so pretty, you think, and you can’t help but admire his red tip, glistening with precum. He pumps his length a few times and lines it up with your entrance. You inhale a sharp gasp as you feel his whole length inside you. It feels so full; it feels as if he’s gonna split you in half if he starts moving.

“Ah, too big.”

“I know.” Dabi looks down on you. “Take it like a little slut you are.”

Before you could even talk back, he is moving inside you. Your moans blend with the noise of the bed creaking; a perfectly harmonized orchestra to Dabi’s ears.

You knew Dabi wasn’t one to prep you or go slow, but you feel like he’s going way rougher than usual. His wild thrusts have your head lolling backwards, and Dabi does not miss the chance to take a hard bite on your neck. You scream out of both pain and pleasure, and you feel two hot streams of tears on your flushed cheeks.

“Aww, she’s crying.” Dabi says in a mocking tone. “Bet you love the pain.”

Humiliation fills your chest and you turn your head away, but Dabi quickly grabs your chin with one hand, forcing you to directly face him.

“Who’s the one making you feel this full?” he asks.

“Y-you.”

“Did he ever make you feel this way?”

Wait, he? Who does he mean by he? Your alleged boyfriend? Could it be possible that Dabi was doing this out of jealousy? You try to comprehend, but it’s impossible for you to think clearly, not when Dabi is fucking you stupid. “No!” You shout.

Dabi’s free hand reaches for your clit and starts rubbing circles. “Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You…” You try to answer, but he suddenly lifts up your lower body and slams into your cervix in the right angle. It has you moaning even louder, your insides spasming around his cock.

“I can’t hear you.” He smirks sadistically.

“You, Dabi, it belongs to you! I belong to you!” You’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, making his cock twitch. “That’s right. You are all for me, all for me to use. Just a pathetic little slut for my cock.” A satisfactory grin appears on Dabi’s face.

Dabi lowers his body down and grunts directly into your ear as he thrusts even faster. The sound of his skin slamming into yours is so erotic, and you can feel how close you are.

“You wanna cum huh?” His words have you nodding frantically, babbling incoherent words. Yes Dabi—wanna cum so bad—wanna be yours—wanna be your good girl—please, dabi.

“Then do it. Make a mess on my cock.”

“Nngh, Dabi!” You scream out his name as euphoria washes down your body. His release follows you soon enough, painting your walls white. You feel warmth filling your belly while his groans echo in your ear. You’re still sobbing and panting after he pulls out, without any energy left to move. As your blurry vision starts getting clearer, you feel his warm skin and the sting of his cold staples against your back. His long arms wrap around your oversensitive body, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re messing with my head.” Dabi rests his forehead on the back of your shoulder.

“Huh?”

You’re confused, but Dabi doesn’t elaborate. His ego doesn’t let him do such thing.

“When you said you belonged to me, did you mean it?”

You bite your lower lip, not knowing how to respond to his sudden question. Millions of unspoken words and feelings are hanging in the back of your throat, creating a huge lump. You swallow them all and spit out a question instead. “Do you want me to belong to you?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, butterflies fluttering inside your chest. “Be mine.” His low voice vibrates against your soft skin. Your heart melts at his words, and you cannot stop your feelings from overspilling anymore. At that moment you both realize; you and Dabi were meant to crawl back to each other, no matter how hard you both try and struggle.

“I’m yours.” You smile, “I’m all yours.”

[sopxhiea]

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie finds himself in a party thrown in a finishing school that teaches ladies how to be proper in all senses of the world but a rare jewel of a wild young woman catches his eye.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?”

Gold and silk.

It’s on the walls, coated in layers of sparkly paint as light reflects to the silk curtains. It’s on the tables, dozens of champagne bottles resting on top of the finest silk material while the sweet classical music fills the marble walls. The place reeks of the posh and their extravagant perfumes.

Alfie’s forcefully brought to the occasion.

Miriam, the old woman who’s appreciative of Alfie’s donations to the community, had decided that it was time for the man to make more public appearances. She’d forced the grumpy man into the crowd and the fancy outing as a way of branching out to the rest of the community for the Jews.

The night is organised by a bunch of English community elders for the new women’s school opened up right around the corner. It’s easy to recognise their pupils, all of them dressed properly as they greet as many guests as they can. Young ladies are all over the room, their lavish dresses flowing around their legs as they flash their kindest smiles to the people around.

Except you.

Accident, fate or bad luck. It was one of the three that had caused you to end up in the said school. Apparently, you weren’t a proper lady and also happened to lack the ability to act your age, or so you had been told after climbing a tree with your friend to get your hands on the fruit it so graciously had blessed you with.

It didn’t bother you in the slightest but there you were now, standing in a room full of bourgeoisie in a slim dress tailored by one of the maids who worked for the house you stayed in. Unlike all your other classmates, your face is absent of any smiles and the only thing that leaves your lips are snarky remarks.

Annabelle, who also happens to be your etiquette teacher, pinches your arms every now and then to either get you to act properly or to shut you up but it doesn’t work. You know her harsh movements are bound to create bruises on your arms but you don’t care, you hate every moment of the forced event.

You’re the odd one out, naturally.

Although you’re dressed properly with fine jewels and silk gloves, your fake laugh does not fill the air. You’re sulking, almost, as you listen to one of the elderly man talk about his business to your friends and you while you stand around. 

The crowd is made up of women with rich men on their arms, just what your uncle wanted you to be when he had put you in the school two months ago. They’re wearing their finest dresses, most of their hairs are kept in a short form as they plaster smiles on their paint covered faces, nails painted with vibrant colours while they laugh at a stupid joke the rich makes.

And there’s him.

He doesn’t stand out per se, just when you manage to observe him for a while. He’s wearing a suit much like everyone else in the room but there’s something rough about him, something rugged as you stare at the broad man. He has an elderly woman on his arm, she’s talking his ear off while his eyes roam around the spacious room. 

You don’t look away when his blue orbs meet yours.

He’s watched you all night and although you’d been sulking for most of the time, he still thought that you were the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long while. He’d seen you make smart remarks towards some of the gentlemen, putting them in their place before you would walk to the bar to get some relief.

But this time, there’s a gentle smile on your lips.

He feels his breath get caught on his throat but he’s quick to recover while your gaze returns to the boring old man in front of you. Your dress is similar to the ones the girls are wearing but it hugs your body a little tighter, a fine pearl necklace graces your neck. Your hair is not short, opposed to most of the women around, but kept in wavy shape as it creates a frame around your soft features.

You seem like the youngest of them all.

But you also happen to be the wildest. In the last two months of you being there, all you’d caused was trouble. You’d not sleep and climb out of windows to disappear for a day or two. Your uncle would bring you back with a frown on his old face but you’d find a way to make trouble and piss the ladies off again. It was the only fun thing to do around the house you were kept in.

“It was very lovely to talk to you about your boring business.” you speak to the elderly man who’d been talking for the past hour with you and your friends, a smile rests on your painted lips. The man frowns at your words and is about to speak up when you wave at him and disappear towards the bar once again.

Alfie watches you as you move.

Your painted lips that had just been faking a smile now greet the transparent material of the crystal that holds the liquor you so badly need. You take a couple sips, a sheepish smirk on your lips as you feel someone approaching you from behind. You can tell who it is, his steps aren’t the most subtle or rhythmic.

Your small figure turns around swiftly turns around to face the pleasant stranger, a contagious smile on your lips as you look at him from head to toe. He sees the glint of wickedness swimming around in your orbs and he’s sure you’re the girl every cockney has been trying to get their hands on.

Alfie’s heard of a young woman who just won’t behave. As far as he’s concerned, most people think she should be married off to some boring bloke but the uncle won’t let them do it and he’s the only family she’s got. He’s heard of the wild dancing, the kind of moves that are nothing but filth and also the countless times of the escapes she’s made.

And there you are, the infamous wild lady, standing right in front of him.

“Hello, Mister.” you say, amused as you giggle at him. He copies your expression, a low smile on his lips while you feel his smell take over you, vanilla and rum.

“’ello to yourself, Miss.” he speaks, accent dripping from each word as you watch him, he’s even more handsome up close.

Your eyes drift along his tall form, he’s still tall even though you have your heels on. Your gaze lingers on his white shirt, it’s not as smooth as it was when he came in, or so you figure. He’s dressed sharp, his facial hair kept in a nice shape as the golden wires glisten underneath the many candles and chandeliers around. You don’t bother and be subtle as your eyes drink him but he’s doing the same to you.

You chuckle lowly as he takes a sip of the drink you’re holding, it’s much too strong but you’re only getting started.

“You, yeah, are makin’ quite the noise today.” he speaks, not a swear word within the sentence since he’s being proper for the occasion.

“As per usual.” you say, a sweet smile on your lips while you lean on the wall and he hovers tall above you, his face inching a little closer each time he speaks. “Interested?” you speak, wanting him to say yes because he seems to be the only one worth spending time with around here.

“I ain’t answering to that, love.” he says, head shaking at his own words and you watch him under the pleasant light as they create shadows around his face, he’s far too good looking for a bloke with his reputation.

Your eyes drop to his hand, decorated with lines and bands of rings and a crown tattoo, the rough skin makes you smile as your soft fingers trace his. His eyes flutter, the slow song filling the night and flowing out of the spacious house you’re both standing in. You blink a few times, seeing the glint of thrill in his eyes as you stare and stare, the night is long.

But your patience is non-existent.

“You’re no fun, Mister.” your words are barely audible as they leave your lips and he knows you’re teasing, his eyes flutter once more as a small whine leaves your lips and it’s all it takes for him to be envisioning your naked frame, although he’s already done it multiple times up until that point.

You try to be sweeter, appeal to his good nature to get what you want. You know that if a lady from the school is to leave today, with a gentlemen on her arm, it is allowed and you see it as your exit ticket to never return to the hell of a place. Your hands trace the head of his cane, feeling the cold material contrast the warmth of his hands. “What shall I call you?” you ask, danger swimming in your orbs.

“Name’s Solomons, luv.” he speaks, knowing that he needs to be proper and that means saving his name for the more intimate part of the conversation but you don’t seem pleased with the consideration from his part.

“No.” you speak, like a whiny girl and he thinks you’re the most charming whiny girl he’s seen but he waits for your painted lips to part and the sound of your sweet voice. “I knew that. Tell me what you like to be called.” you speak, voice smooth as silk as it delivers the words. He wonders what your voice would sound like if his head was between your soft legs.

There’s evident evil in your eyes but he’s drawn to it, like moth to a flame.

You half expect for him to tell you something absurd. This isn’t something you ask other people but in the rare occasion that you play with fire, the answers have been nothing but disappointing. They’d told you to call them baby, husband or sweetheart.

How pathetic, you thought.

“Alfie.” he speaks, voice low as his eyes don’t leave yours. A smile finds your lips and he stops himself from leaning in and kissing them.

“That’s a very good name.” you speak, satisfied for the first time in a while with a man’s answer. They seem too dull to you, most men are shallow and simply daft but this one seems to shine on you. 

“Fuckin’ flattering old me.” he speaks, amused as he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You’re far too young for him but that doesn’t seem to occur to you as you ogle him.

“Old?” you speak into his face, your perfume surrounding him as you play with his crisp shirt. He’s close to kissing you senseless but he figures Miriam wants him to act proper for the event. “I don’t think so.” you speak again, answering your own question and he watches the light flicker on your face.

“What is a pretty little bird like you doin’ in the corner?” he speaks, breath almost fanning your face while you almost lose yourself in the smell of him. He seems promising thus far.

You look up at him with an open mouth, seeing as he’s interested. Your agape mouth turns to a smile soon after, this victim of yours seems like a proper gentlemen. The truth was, you didn’t really belong there from the start, it was your uncle’s masterplan since your deceased parents were far too gone to do anything. You’d be a proper lady and the school would tame you down, get you a goodie two shoes husband and let you be on your best way.

But you weren’t the little gentle kid they were expecting.

Trouble made life worth living, there was no fun in the four walls you slept in most days and occasions like these were your ticket for the exit. You knew you’d have to tell the head of the class that you’re leaving with a gentlemen but that’s the point of the occasion, to make sure the girls get to know the people around and maybe even snag a husband of their own.

“Talking to you.” you speak, eyes looking up at the tall, handsome man as he sizes you up. He’s already made up his mind to donate a good amount of money to your school solely because of you.

“Ya’ know who I am, lass?” he speaks, no swearing induced with his words because he sees just how young you are, even though you look younger than you are.

“You just told me. Mr.Solomons.” you whisper against his face, voice breathy as his eyes threaten to flutter. 

But you barely have a clue.

“I, yeah, am a bad fuckin’ man, luv.” he speaks, eyes locked into yours as his face moves. You watch the way his lips shift with each word and a blush rises on your cheeks. You giggle against his face this time, the music in the room constantly changes its melody.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?” your voice is filled with amusement and laughter. It’s not like you’ve asked him to fuck you or take you home, not just yet. 

He looks at you with wide eyes, taken aback by the bravery of such a little thing. You don’t have an ounce of fear in your eyes as you smile up at him and he speaks before you can.

“I don’t think, right, you want to be seen with me, luv.” he says, very aware of the fact that half of the room have been watching you and Alfie for the last hour. But you’ve already been seen with him, so you see no sense in what he’s saying.

“Nonsense.” you speak, the reply is almost automatic and you don’t break eye contact.

He chuckles, it’s low and you’re sure it would be impossible to hear if you weren’t standing so close. You hear his deep voice as he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“You’re the only one worth talking to in this goddamn party.” you whisper without realising it. You don’t intend on telling the gentlemen that but the sparks in his eyes when you change your mind.

Fancy events like this did not interest you, you wanted something real. It didn’t excite you that the carpets in the venue were brought from Milan or that the fine silk curtains were hand-made, you wanted things to be real, raw and not pretentious like all the posh souls were making it out to be. Alfie saw that, mostly because he felt the same way.

You wanted to run away from this place, to talk with someone about the possibilities of what the night had in stock for you and walk on the pavement with bare feet and listen to their laugh and ask them what they really thought of the place they were put in.

Alfie saw that in your eyes, you were young after all.

While you fiddled with your freshly painted nails and tried to ignore the obnoxious color the maid had chosen for you, you let him size you up. You were dangerous in the most complex ways but he liked that, he worked inside danger anyway.

“Say, luv..” he spoke, the pet name making your eyes flutter as he looked down at your small form. You didn’t look out of place here in the fancy venue but it was clear to him that you felt that way. “Do ya’ dance?”

Alfie didn’t dance, that was easy to tell and you weren’t a big fan of slow dancing either, too much intimacy was packed up in it for you. “Only If I like the gentlemen who asks me.” you spat out, true and honest as he watched you like a hawk.

But before he could even get to say anything, Miriam appeared out of thin air. She had been watching Alfie for the past hour as he made conversation with the one girl Miriam hoped he’d stay away from. Her eyes were glistening with excitement and anger, all packed up in giant orbs as she stared at you with a smile.

Alfie cleared his throat when he realised the lady had come in and needed to be introduced. Your posture clearly straightened while he started to speak, uninterested but the deed had to be done so she would leave.

“This is Miriam.” Alfie muttered, almost like a little kid who didn’t want to do it but he soon realised you hadn’t told him your name. His eyes met yours as you looked at the lady next to him and she spoke up at last.

“And who is this lovely lady?” Miriam spoke, voice a little deeper than you’d expect but it suited her. You smiles and took her hand, shaking it like how businessman shook each others’ hands and Alfie smiled at your tomboyish attitude.

“Y/N.” you spoke softly, subtly looking at Alfie direction when he muttered your name under his breath. It sounded right.

���Oh! What a lovely name!” she exclaimed, making you giggle at her excitement for such a normal part of the conversation. You nodded at his words and thanked her like you’d been taught to do.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” you spoke, a fake smile plastered on your lips while Alfie watched you under a heavy stare, you were perfectly conversing with the lady but it was obvious you wanted to be your own self.

“You two have been talking for quite a while. You don’t mind if I steal Mr. Solomons for a while, do you, dear?” she spoke, almost testing you but you had been trained by the best to not show any emotion. You nodded and smiled, realising that you were a little further down from the bar.

“Of course not.” your words were forced but the lady wouldn’t notice. You shot Alfie a charming smile before the lady dragged him to meet a couple new investors for the Jewish community. It wasn’t like they needed them, but Miriam thought that it was only natural for him to meet people who’d do the same thing as he was doing in terms of donations.

------

The venue was now filled with music, the lively kind. All the couples were tired from the endless slow dancing with the music they had put on so you had finessed the perfect plan to seduce the man who handled the live musicians and although all you had given him was a precious smile, he had started playing tunes you could easily dance at your request.

Most of the girls from your class were now on the dance floor, dancing the day away in the most proper way possible with more than two dozen young men around. No matter how big the opportunity was for them, most of them looked stiff as they moved to the music. They didn’t quite know how to move their bodies in a way that would make men their slave yet and seeing as that was what you were currently doing, you grabbed one of the girls and began teaching her slowly.

Alfie had been talking to a businessman who owned a few casinos up town. He was new to the world of being a gangster but the man seemed speakable enough for him to endure a fifteen minute conversation before he heard familiar giggles overlapping with the music that was being played.

And there you were.

You were an expert at getting yourself in trouble as far as Alfie could tell and the way you moved to the music was the sole proof of the fact. Your body moved to the rhythm, the kind of sways coming from your hips that would be enough to have any man floored if only you’d ask. Miriam watched as Alfie gulped at the sight, he was in deep trouble.

But one tug at his sleeve and he was back to normal.

He ignored the smile on your lips as your drunken state moved to the upbeat song, you were a little too fragile for any man around that night. Tonight was supposed to be about everyone getting to go home with a man on their arm, the sole purpose was to find the grown girls someone to tie their knot with so that the school could invite younger ones.

But you were sure you’d be the last to go.

Men liked to look at you, there was the innocence of a doll mixed with the deadly sins inside your small frame and that was enchanting but it wasn’t enough to keep them interested for the rest of their lives. You were stubborn and didn’t behave like a proper lady should, or so that was what you’d heard since you were a small girl. 

So you found no point in trying to act like one.

An hour passed in what felt like the blink of an eye and you stumbled on your way to the big sofa in the corner of the room. Some of your classmates were already gone with men in their arms to keep them company through the night and you had a look around to see who you could entice.

And to your surprise, the pleasant stranger was still here.

He had been watching you for the last hour with the old lady in his arm. She usually talked about giving back to the community and Alfie was all for that but there was something that kept pulling him to you. He had watched as you eyed every person in the room until your eyes landed on him, a small smile playing at your lips and he realised you weren’t as drunk as he thought you were.

That wasn’t you being drunk, it was you being nothing but trouble.

“May I?” your voice was soft against the air while you tried to get to the whiskey on the table but Alfie was blocking your access. You had walked graciously towards him before that and he was sure you wanted something.

“No fucking way.” he spoke under his breath and your eyebrows shot up at the words. He was amusing after all. 

While he blocked your hands from reaching the whiskey bottle, you shot him an innocent look and he felt as though he was playing with something a little bigger than himself.

“Why?” you asked with a dash of threat lying under. You could make this moment very difficult for him but it went both ways. 

“You, yeah, are too fuckin’ young to even be here, luv...” he speaks and you watch the way his eyes drink you up. You’re too young for drinking but now young enough to keep his eyes to himself, apparently. “...let alone be dancin’ the way you were.” he finishes his sentence and your amused chuckle fills his ears. It’s not what he expects to hear.

“Liked something you saw?” you ask, daring as you look into his eyes. He chuckles, he’s clearly taken aback.

He shakes his head instead of answering. Most of the people around are gone with their gentlemen and the party will be over soon, you figure you’ll be going to the cold bed you woke up in. He catches the faint sign of disappointment on your face and he’s smart enough to put two and two together.

But you seem far too dangerous for a man like him, he thinks.

Before he can answer your question, Annabelle comes around with a plastered smile and starts speaking in the tone you hate so much.

“Y/N! The party is over, dear. You best be on your way to your room.” she speaks, sizing Alfie up along the way. You huff and stare at the old lady. You didn’t think the party was a grand idea anyway.

“Alright.” you speak, knowing she won’t like it and Alfie enjoys the way a hint of smile plays on your lips while Annabelle turns furious for a second.

“What have I taught you?” she says, composing herself in front of the guest and Alfie watches the whole thing play out.

“Yes, Miss.” you say with a fake smile but you’re far from done. They both hear the words as you mutter them under your breath. “Your wish is my command.”

Alfie can’t help but laugh.

You know Annabelle won’t let this go but she smiles at the guest as a sign of kindness, something she hasn’t shown you in your time around here. Alfie turns to you to see the horror in your eyes and he can tell it’s because of the old grumpy lady who keeps bugging you.

And he decides to be the gentlemen.

You’re about to say goodnight and go to your room but he speaks up first to Annabelle, you don’t protest when his hand grabs your small one and caresses it while speaking.

“Actually, this one right here, yeah, will accompany me for the rest of the evenin’..” he speaks and catches the way your eyes light up but he’s composed while the old lady looks at you first and then looks at Alfie.

She’s sure it’ll be a disaster.

“Of course.” she says, wanting to get rid of you as fast as she can.

You watch her leave and Alfie’s hand engulfs your small one in the process. With stars in your eyes, you return to the kind gentlemen but he’s fast to speak before you can thank him. “We best be on our way, lass.”

And he leaves with you on his arm, unaware of the things the night has in stock for the both of you.

----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

a/n: I know i have been inactive but i have one more week of school before the winter break so i’ll be better, I promise!! and please let me know what you thought or/and if you’d like to be tagged!! <3 Happy december!

[gravesightings]

How would the slashers react to a serial killer s/o? Feisty, deadly and cunning. I am just so curious and also love your interpretation of them. ❤️👌

thanks so much! I’m glad. 💖

slashers reactions to: a serial killer s/o

Asa Emory / The Collector

chances are, he’s already done some investigating on you. depending on how far you’ve gone with him - it’s sink or swim.

if he cares about you enough he’ll risk introducing you to his collection. don’t expect too much though, as he would still prefer to work alone.

if you somehow use him in some way for your own goals, you’ll quickly find yourself being the newest addition to the collection, so try not to get any funny ideas.

would definitely feel like you’re walking on eggshells with him. he’s notoriously cautious so he might not be a fan of the idea of you walking the same path as him.

be extra domestic with him and he’ll eventually warm up to the idea. sweet-talk him, offer to wash his bloodied clothes along with yours and he just might start convincing himself that it doesn’t sound so bad after all.

Billy Lenz

if he found out before you even started dating - he's likely to save you for last just to observe how you really work. you’re dangerous and he doesn’t like that. (just pray he doesn’t end you in your sleep.)

or if you choose to drop the bomb on him mid-relationship, he’ll be shocked. is that why you’re so understanding? so patient with him?

if he happens to witness you killing, he’ll incorporate those in his obscene phone calls. maybe mumble it to himself sometimes as well.

compliments from billy! you’re not just a “regular piggy” anymore. smart piggy! pretty piggy! bloody piggy.

maybe it would be better if you don’t get in his way though. he tends to lose control when going after someone so he might hurt you by accident. likewise he won’t intercept you if you’re busy butchering someone.

god forbid someone goes after you, he’ll go beserk. if you save him from someone he’s not gonna thank you directly, instead just rest on you and compliment you some more.

Bo Sinclair

ah you’re hot but also fuck right off. ambrose is his territory and he’s not willing to share.

mid-relationship: he’ll be less trusting towards you. how long have you kept this from him, and why? what are you really after?

reassure him and earn that trust back again before he even lets you anywhere near his victims. the only way he’ll agree to work with you is if he’s the one calling the shots.

it’s pretty easy to fall into place once you’ve gotten used to his habits. he won’t admit it but it’s much easier to handle bigger groups with an extra pair of hands.

rage level increase! he’ll be especially violent towards anyone who takes a swing at you, only to snap back at you with “are you fuckin’ stupid? you could’ve gotten hurt!”

he’s actually much better at patching up wounds than vincent - and you better believe he’ll be patching you up before anybody else. (including himself) shut up, he already knows he’s bleeding and he doesn’t care.

Brahms Heelshire

another observant lad. like billy, he’ll take time to watch you very closely to see how you work. you’re his nanny and you kill too? hot.

it’ll be hard to keep secrets in such a huge house with very thin walls so you’re not likely to get away with this without him knowing. downside is it’ll take a much longer time for brahmsy to reveal himself.

kill for him and he’s yours to keep. usually it’s the other way around but now that he knows you’re capable, he’ll be a lot more laid-back. unless of course his jealousy gets the best of him.

still expects you to keep up with the list, however. there’s not really a lot of victims needing immediate attention so your first priority should always be him.

surprisingly helpful. he won’t feel the need to butcher anyone anymore (again, unless his jealousy acts up.) so he might actually give you a hand - just make sure to reward him properly for his efforts.

Bubba Sawyer

nervous bubby is hesitant to even go near you. sure he’s big and has a chainsaw but you look really good at what you do so he’s a bit scared.

mid-relationship: you’re a WHAT? gasps. actually, now that he thinks about it, that explains a lot. that’s okay he still loves you a whole lot!

quick to inform the entire family. hey everybody!! guess who has the coolest s/o ever?! he does! makes sure grandpa sawyer gets to see just how impressive you are. he’s so proud!

drayton’s undoubtedly going to hear about this so congrats! you’ve now levelled up to meat-wrangler, just like bubby. the whole family will be quick to accept you - no questions asked.

bubba still panics whenever you get hurt though! so maybe don’t get too carried away. he’s quick to make sure the tougher victims are taken care of first so they don’t hurt his precious s/o.

Jason Voorhees

big boy is THREATENED. why are you here and what do you want? please leave right now. though you do seem oddly nice for someone who just beheaded a guy at the dock.

mid-relationship: frozen in shock. his beloved s/o? the one that kisses him every morning? struggles to believe it. he might even refuse to accept it unless you have a good reason to do so.

he might be more accepting if you do it to protect yourself or as a way to rid the camp of trespassers. for him? he’s not sure how to feel about that.

very against the idea. bad people won’t think twice about hurting you. it doesn’t matter if you’re good at defending yourself or not - jason just doesn’t want strangers near you.

help him and he’s thankful, but he’s still gonna remind you to stay away from the trespassers as much as possible. 

but jason, you cry out - no no no, he taps your nose, don’t you worry your pretty little head. he’ll do all the protecting, thank you very much.

Jesse Cromeans / Chromeskull

if you make it on the news chromey is going to know about you asap. he’s got all the proper sources so you won’t exactly be as well-hidden as you thought. as long as you don’t go for his targets, he’ll leave you be.

if you happen to cross paths with him and things turn romantic then that makes things much easier on him. he’s more likely to keep you around in the long run knowing you’re okay with the lifestyle.

fucked-up games? you bet. this man is always up to no good and often tries to one-up you. bet his body count is bigger than yours. yeah? do you want proof?

would be very willing to let you tag along and watch. just don’t interact with his victims. at all. he’s fiercely possessive to a point that he’s not above fucking you in front of them to prove a point.

he’s not gonna assist you during your activities unless you’re in mortal danger but he’s also known to stalk you during your escapades. what do you mean “what the fuck are you doing here?” he brought you flowers like a good boyfriend and this is how you greet him? rude!

Michael Myers

hmm hot. even if you don’t tell him he already would have known before approaching you. he’ll be apprehensive if you choose to keep secrets from him, especially if he knows about them already.

if you trust him enough to tell him about this he’ll appreciate your honesty and might keep you around longer. hm sure okay but he knows already. (he’s not about to tell you that though)

do your own thing and leave him be. he doesn’t really care. upside is he won’t have to worry about you being attacked because he knows you’re capable of defending yourself even without him.

but that doesn’t stop him from being petty and obsessive. bashes the already motionless corpse of the idiot that attacked you. he’s not gonna stop until they turn into paste.

he works alone. don’t even try to follow him. stop it. don’t you have other places to be? shoo. firmly carries you back to the house and locks you there.

Thomas Hewitt

is it bad that he finds you.... kinda hot? you handle yourself well but he’s also lowkey afraid of you.

mid-relationship: like jason, he has trouble accepting the fact that his darling would be capable of such a horrid thing. he’ll be okay with it if you do it for the hewitts or for your own protection. otherwise he’s not into it.

killing bad. please leave it to him instead, okay? he doesn’t want you getting hurt. he’ll insist to do all the butchering despite hoyt’s loud protests that you should be pulling your own weight.

go ahead and brush up on your convincing skills because it’s not impossible to persuade him. (unlike jason). you would need to earn your right to provide for the family.

the hewitts are quicker to accept you into the family once you’ve proven yourself. you’ll fit right in! tommy’s always going to be a worrywart though regardless of how good you actually are.

Vincent Sinclair

might actually target you first because you’re the most dangerous. he’s much less likely to trust you since you’ve killed before.

mid-relationship: tell him very early in the relationship otherwise he might not trust you again. he’ll be understanding regardless of your intentions. (unless of course if it’s to harm him or his brothers, then he’s troubled.)

mother hen vincent would also prefer you don’t help out with the victims. bo’s already a handful by himself and he’s confident that the three of them (along with lester) can manage.

but he’s not going to forbid you, per se. he’s not gonna go out of his way to stop you. just as long as you’re smart about it and you don’t get hurt, then you can carry on.

again, an extra pair of hands means less work for everybody involved so as much as bo bitches about how trusting you might come back to bite them in the ass, they’re appreciative of your efforts.

[kintatsujo]

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part TWENTY-TWO

Hoi hoi go read the previous post if you haven’t!

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

So this is an action scene that's more getting planned than anything so that's how I'm presenting it, keeping in mind I think about fight scenes in kind of video game terms in the first place:

We have:

The Silver Hinox- Informally nicknamed Chekov by Ice.  If we're thinking of it in game terms, obviously he would follow the BotW patterns of being a huge pile of hit points, but flavor-wise I think of him as being a very OLD hinox, so he'd have a more complicated attack pattern of doing shit like grabbing his enemies and trying to throw them, which I actually think would be hilariously fun to see in a BotW mod if someone could figure it out lol.  

Normally I think he'd throw bombs at enemies that were too far away the same as a black hinox, but he's in the Hyrule Castle throne room right now so he cares more about slamming people into walls.  Another thing he'd be doing is wide sweeps with his arms because he's surrounded by a lot of little dudes.  

Serenumbra probably keeps him from happy napping time so he is super, super fucking cranky.

The Pikku- They're still focused on getting to Princess Zelda but also on creating as much chaos as possible; the Scarred Woman is the team mage, the Burly Man focuses on brute force, the Average Middle Aged Guy is a tricksy fighter and Shady Guy and Unsuspicious Girl are both scrappers.

The Royal Guard- Doing their best.

King Aldway, Gray and Princess Zelda-

[Image Description: The Burly Man knocks into King Aldway’s back, causing him to pitch forward and Gray to grunt in pain in his arms.  “Papa!  GRAY!” Princess Zelda cries out.  Aldway twists as he falls so that he’s underneath Gray as much as possible, hitting the ground with a thud, and the Burly Man runs off.  The Scarred Woman suddenly appears behind Princess Zelda and wraps an arm around her waist, summoning a teleportation circle.  “Gotcha,” the Scarred Woman says.]

Queen Zelda- I want you to think of her like a very high level version of Bow of Light Zelda from Age of Calamity; she's deathly powerful but slow, and once she's on the battlefield it takes a bit for her more powerful abilities to charge up.  (I've been slowly getting more ideas on what CoRA WOULD look like as a video game but we're gonna leave that for a supplementary post.)  She's also focused on finding her daughter and husband, so after firing a blast off at Chekov to give Link a head start (Basically think of her as starting out with a full bar of A move) she starts trying to locate Aldway and Zelda in the fray.

Impa- Look don't let Impa being in her 40s fool you, she's an agile fuckin powerhouse.  Absolutely think of her as being on the level of AoC Impa at high level.  Impa wants to find Gray but knows he's probably with Aldway or Zelda Jr if he can help it.  She ends up in a scrap with Average Middle Aged Guy, Shady Guy and Unsuspicious Girl.

(Impa is wiping the floor with them.)

Link- Mad as hell and has fought a blue hinox in the training dungeon from hell, so he goes straight for Chekov and starts hacking at his little legs.  This is not the recommended way to fight a hinox but it's the way he's forced to work for him.  He's also still wearing those power gloves, which in CoRA generally improves his strength in all respects and is the only reason swords would ever have durability in CoRA as a game.  I like to think he shatters at least one in the middle of this fight and has to borrow one off one of the guards.  

(Astramorus, staring in horror, says softly, "I have no right to be afraid.")

Ghirahim-Still getting up from where Eltani's loftwing landed in the courtyard; I actually tend to think that one of Astramorus's handful of "this man is not a COMPLETE disaster" skills is that he's actually very skilled at directing his loftwing and that's why Hera was even able to land on the balcony of the throne room.  (Impa saw that's where the action was and used a paraglider to get the rest of the way in the room.)

Astramorus-has no fighting skills aside from the Bow that's still in Gerudo City (it did get put away properly I swear), so when he sees that Link is starting to struggle with Chekov and knowing that it's his own fault Link even tried to take this thing on with nothing but a sword, he throws a chunk of rock at the back of the hinox's head trying to distract it.

This.  Doesn't go well for him.

[Image Description: A rock hits the hinox in the side of the head with a “SPAK”.  The hinox looks over its shoulder at Astramorus, who is preparing to run.  The hinox spins and, with one hand, straight up punches Astramorus with a BOOM, hitting his entire body with its enormous fist.  “FATHER!!” Link screams.  End ID.]

I am so sorry I didn’t draw this part but this is when Ghirahim finally reaches the fight, and between he and Link the hinox finally goes down.  

Link rushes to his father’s side, and Astramorus is very still, and there’s no fairy in sight-- 

but Link’s been picking up every fairy he could catch since Windfish Isle

[Image Description: Link SLAPS a fairy into Astramorus’s forehead with a TING!, screaming, “DON’T YOU DARE DIE ON ME NOW!”  Astramorus startles alive, and Link leans in to yell in his face: “WHY DIDN’T YOU HAVE YOUR FAIRIES?!” Astramorus stares at him in shocked silence for a moment, then smiles ruefully.  “...Because I was trying to end BOTH your problems by taking out the prince,” he admits. Link shouts in his face again, and Astramorus hunches his shoulders in surprise.  “YOU STUPID USELESS MAN!!” Link shouts.  Tears begin streaming down his face.  “That’s not how you fix ANYTHING!”  He sniffles, rubbing at his face.  “Stop SCARING me like this!” Astramorus stares at him, shocked, sorrowful, then comes to an internal conclusion.  He sits up better.  “You’re right,” he says.  Link stares at him in surprise as he continues, “So first of all I’m sorry for SCARING you and I’ll try not to do it again...” he now turns away, flushing slightly.  “And SECONDLY I’m sorry I used to call you SOFT like it was a BAD THING.”  Link blushes, and Astramorus adds softly, “I mean you didn’t get CRYING EASILY from your MOTHER.” End ID.]

I was honestly not going to have Astramorus manage a fucking proper apology until the sequel but Link just beat a silver hinox with a sword and resurrected Astra by slapping him with a fairy like one of those old stupid “shoulda had a V8″ commercials, AND Link just managed a proper yell at his dad and got through his whole statement so really it felt right.

Next update we finally get to see Princess Hilda properly so I’m excite!

[phoebehalliwell]

i don't know if i'm the only one but i've often wondered exactly how hard it was to convince julian mcmahon to stick around for season five. they took his character, a feared powerful half demon and made him into the butt of the joke and the whole joke was basically ha ha look at this lovestruck fool obsessing and suicidal because he's got nothing to live with but can't die. ain't that funny? like how the fuck did the writers sell that to julian is my question

i find the entirety of season five just so goddamn insulting to cole's character. hell the fact that he got possessed by the source and this was treated as him turning evil instead of a shitty situation that got out of hand. like it wasn't bad enough he was villified for something that he wasn't even in control of half the time they couldn't even just vanquish the dude, they dragged it on and ridiculed him. i hate it here

lol. i mean. yeah. i really. like. it's like. like okay we all know cole was a fan favorite right and he & phoebe were really meant to like. be the sex appeal to the show no one else was really filling that role they were charmed's Sexy Couple tm. so like. in a sense i get the notion ab wanting to keep him around. because everyone loves him! he's bad boy! he adds this dangerous edge love balancing on a knife's point stuff like that. so like. that being said. u wanna keep him around. i just like Do Not Get how you opt to keep him around Like That. tbh. as w all things. i am blaming brad kern. i think it all really started to tank s4 (well, with mortal cole, but like) with source cole. that was bad, but i know it was part of the push to have like long form season drama character driven plots conflict between the sisters themselves it just like. sucked ass and balls imo. like i mean the fact they had to do the source as a possession just so they could get demon cole and lover cole,,, i mean it speaks to how stupid it was. the fact that u wanted cole to be a villain So Bad but the only way to do it was like. possession? sign that u should not do that like. like. like. i don't know how we're supposed to feel ab that.

and then. the vanquish. not sticking. i think like. i think they probably had the vague idea that cole having a mortal soul would not be able to be vanquished properly right? like. demons get destroyed into nothingness, but the human part of him lives, so i think they probably knew that was what they were going to do, that's what they sold to jmm and like. we sowed those seeds in the s4 finale w his ghost whispers and materialization. so i think like. they knew they wanted to Not Kill Him because he was such a fan favorite. maybe there was an intention to do a will they won't they variant of phole? and then. of course. there was the whole idea of paige cole, which, as the rumor goes, was meant to kick of in the s5 pilot, but both julian and rose shut it down. but i feel like. assuming that's true (which i 100% do assume that's true absolutely and i'm not endorsing it i don't think it would have been good or well written or whatever but like. 👀. you know?) but yeah. assuming that's true, i feel like that piece really speaks to what their designs for cole were: man meat. he was meant to be their male sex appeal and they weren't going to be picky about the narrative itself as long as he was still kicking.

but like honestly? i mean i shouldn't have to say this it's a given: it's not enough to just put your sexy man in front of a camera and call it a day like imo even a man who is not sexy can be made appealing through the power of the narrative. like, to level with you, i never really ever shipped phole nor found cole attractive at all like ever, but i can see like the fucking support beams you know i can see the infrastructure on which this whole thing can you know take on a life of its own in the earlier seasons because they very consciously put it there!! people shipped it for a reason n not just because they were two people standing next to each other on a tv screen i mean hello almost sinking a dagger in her heart but can't do it sends her away back to her sisters because he can't act out on his evil plan!! that's something!!!! that's so very something and they gave us Nothing they gave us nothing in the later seasons. and still expected it to fly. like. tbh julian was probably just like unwittingly duped like dragged along for the ride s5 which is likely why he was vanquished halfway through because i'd imagine roughly three episode in he went okay! um. what's this? guys? what's this? and then they said cole<3 you know he like knew he had to get the hell outta dodge.

anyways. if i were to resuscitate phole in s5. which like. to level w u. i wouldn’t. because they would need a lot of one-on-one screentime and we already spent so much of s4 splitting up the sisterhood in the name of phole i wouldn’t really want to continue with that per se But. if i were. this ask is getting long it’s under a cut 

something something demon of the week something something realms the point is cole is there when he very much shouldn’t be and like. he and phoebe get knocked into a different plane. so their bodies are fine and at the manor, but their minds are elsewhere and they need to solve whatever it is in order to get back. and we’ll say there’s a fuckin deadline because the girls need the power of three and right now they are sealed off from accessing it. and you know phoebe’s pretty fuckin pissed with cole because you know. he dragged her down to hell and she almost gave birth to the antichrist. actually source’s heir might be fun to keep around in this au idk. the point is phoebe’s pissed at cole and cole’s pissed at phoebe because phoebe’s pissed at him but he literally didn’t have control over himself in that era and he’s not getting the space he needs to justify himself because phoebe keeps stepping over him. but they gotta work together to get out of here. and were kinda doing enemies to lover 2.0 but like now they have History. of course we’ve gotta do a moment where cole has idk done something normal and phoebe’s so riled up that she does something rash and almost dies cole saves her like catches her bridal style or something faces inches apart breathing heavy and there’s a moment. like a we’re back in early s4 moment. which phoebe immediately breaks from and like walls going flying up but just for a moment there we see it it’s obvious: she’s still in love with cole. which then segues into an argument because like. cole wasn’t sure. right? he wasn’t sure if phoebe now just genuinely hated him. but now he knows right he knows better now so why are you acting like this? why are you taking every opportunity to shut me down to shut me out? why are you acting like you hate me when you know that’s not true right that whole thing to phoebe who gets the Classic because i do hate you. i hate you for what you did to me for what you did to my family and i hate you because i loved you so much and you destroyed me and i hate you because no matter how hard i try that love is still there and i know that for a second if i stop hating you i’m going to love you just like before and you can destroy me again and i hate myself because i’d let you because i love you. you know? big speech. big reveal. i have No Idea what piper and paige are up to right now. the point is. after this big confession we get the lull the cards are on the table what the fuck do we do now which is when cole Finally gets to opportunity to say he was actually possessed by the source and manipulated by the seer and the only thing that kept him holding on was his love for her and after she became queen of hell after he saw what the source had done to her he knew it had to end he doesn’t hold it against her for vanquishing him right this is where we exonerate all wrongs we’re just saying anything bad that has happened ever? scrub it. it’s the source’s fault. cole has no resentment against phoebe. he loves her a healthy, normal, non-possessive amount, so much so He Loves Her So Much he let her kill him and like honestly would probably do it again. idk and then they make out or something. and then they’re out of whatever plane they were in by the end of the episode. And Then we get a buddy cop episode with paige and cole where they bond and also sort through everything that happened there. slowly but surely. and then we do a real phole wedding a super small affair in the manor lowkey bc i hated their wedding episode it blowed we give them a good one. wallah <3

[saucysamu]

Okay so... I know you’re not in the mood to write rn but still emergency request? like you can do a really small one bbygirl and don’t pressure yourself to write it immediately! ❤️

My friend just tiggered me cause she bought the same pair of trousers I got and she has them in S and I needed L. Like I would‘ve never fit in S. Yet she does and her body is similar to mine? Also she gained weight & I lost some?? and I’m just confused and my mind is getting stupid Ed related thoughts again like? I lost weight & gained muscles yet I’m still too fat??? Eventho I’m not like you can see my ripcage ??? & can I get some comfort from Oikawa, Sakusa & Atsumu pls?

My love I hope you’re doing better by now and don’t keep on spending your time thinking about that 🥺 you know you can rant to me whenever you feel like it, ilysm ❤️

Anyways here we go,,

Oikawa, Sakusa and Atsumu x reader who struggles with an ED

warnings: mention of ED/ body image/ food

Oikawa

* You’ve been dating for quite a while so Oikawa is aware of what went through your mind back then 

* and he knows how to deal with it quite well??

* though he wished he didn’t have to, you’re so perfect in his eyes he will never be able to wrap his head around how someone like you would worry about such things

* so when you mention it all awkwardly to him that,, specific thoughts keep occurring again his mind goes A L A R M

* you even feel too embarrassed to look at him at all, but what for?

* he hugs you softly, placing his chin on the top of your head “you know I would never judge you for the way you feel right?” you just hum quietly as a response

* ladies, gentlemen and non-binary babes: here we have another king of pushing your self-esteem or crushing it in the case of enemies

* idk how he does it but he always says the right things to you without messing up or triggering you

* bet he’s the first one to distract you and support you like no other

* bitch cooks recipes of your fave foods to cook them more healthily so you won’t feel guilty

* need a gym buddy? Oikawa agrees before you can even ask him 

* he tries to be subtle when observing your behavior bc even when he acts calm he’s still worried to death

* however it doesn’t stay unnoticed by you lol and you’d just reassure him with a teasing grin

* as much as he wants to believe it, he catches himself at times just wanting to make extra sure,,

* but he knows you’re strong!! and a fighter!! 

* Still cautious when it comes to food even if you got better, it low-key became a habit of his to make sure you eat properly

* honestly can’t wait to go shopping with you again to hype you tf up and show you off to the world like “Ha! I have the prettiest gf on earth!! Watch her go off!!!”

Sakusa

* oh boy oh boy it took so long for the both of you to finally date so you can bet your ass he cares about you almost more than cleanliness,, almost

* which means there are only two things that make him feel startled,,, germs and you suffering

* he was NOT prepared for this

* I’m not gonna lie he’s the type that never got behind how being mentally ill worked, he always took everything as it was and would usually roll his eyes at someone claiming they’re depressed like honestly he’s such a “get over it, everyone gets sad sometimes😔✌🏻” - kind of guy cbdahjbks help💀

* well at least that is until he started to get to know you

* at the beginning he was still in denial like ??? iTs NoT ThaT ComPLiCatEd someone give this man some empathy PLEASE

* scratch that when he finds out how severe this can actually get yes he watched documentaries on EDs but if you asked no he didn’t 

* you notice his caution now tho like come on it’s obvious

* finds excuses to spend more time with you, always wants to be as close to you as possible my guy wants make sure you’re not ✨messing around✨

* suspiciously more affectionate than before

* adjusts to you more easily now like who are we kidding this man wants you to be okay, no, GLOWING bc you’re his precious baby

* cuddle sessions with you sitting between his legs, leaning against his chest while doing your daily self care routine and watching cheesy Netflix originals

* it’d be quiet the whole time and out of nowhere he’d randomly tell you how beautiful and perfectly clean you are and how much he loves you,, as if it was nothing,,smh OmiOmi

* he’s too awkward to suggest actually useful things to you,, I mean his emotional intelligence is a little uhhh behind so what do we expect

* would do anything for you that is of help tho so if you ask him to do this or that he’d never say no to you

* cooks healthy meals for you and yes he CAN cook

* if you ever argued about it then it would probably be bc he doesn’t get how you can think so low of yourself. He doesn’t want to be angry let alone show his anger about it to you but sometimes he can’t help but feeling frustrated. You both can be stubborn so it probably takes a while for him to make it up to. 

* his apologies are the most sincere you’ll ever witness.

* actually puts a lot of effort into those so you just can’t stay angry with him ://

* he really tries his best and sometimes in a moment of silence when you two lie down cuddled up with tangled legs and your ear pressed against his chest, his heartbeat reassures you that he’s there for you no matter what.

Atsumu

* he always thought you were being sarcastic whenever you left remarks on your body

* malfunctions when he realize you weren’t 

* ffs he’s overwhelmed and doesn’t know what to say when you actually talk about it

* tries to bite down his tears

* he fails

* and just hugs you tightly from behind so you don’t see him like that

* soft whispers in your ear that he’ll make you love yourself the way you should while cradling you 

* he’s not convinced he’ll be able to actually manage that but you can be certain he’ll put his whole heart into trying so.

* internal panic when he sees you being down so he awkwardly tries to light your mood with bad fuckin jokes,, he doesn’t know you laugh at the actual jokes but rather at him 💀

* like the perfect clumsy boyfriend he is - his attempts to cook something you’d be comfortable with go horribly wrong since he can’t cook for shit so he begs Osamu to cook something for you and Atsumu would just take his bike and get to Onigiri Miya and back in no time

* his clumsiness would distract you all the time and you can’t convince me otherwise 

* when you laugh at him like that he’d pout out of embarrassment but it would turn into a smile at the way you laugh right after like ugh he’s blessed

* probably asks Osamu for advice every now and then and his brother is just like??? you’re asking ME?? despite him still giving good advice

* ofc he works out with you what did you expect though he doesn’t want you to overdo it 🥺

* wants you to be around whenever he has practice or games, he’s more at peace knowing you’re not doing god knows what

* and you better keep your eyes and mind on him at all times 👀😼

* showering you with so many compliments like even about things you didn’t even notice yourself, he’s just really paying attention to you thoroughly it seems like every day he loves you more and more and he makes sure you realize that.

I really hope you liked it and I’d be happy about any feedback so please leave some bc I’m kinda insecure about my writing in general lol

[ghoulciifer]

hewoo🥺can you write hcs on tendou and iwaizumi comforting their s/o who is sad because of their bad relationship with their father,like not in any abusive way but their dad is distant and emotionally unavailable:/

HC: Tendou and Iwaizumi helping an S/O with an emotionally unavailable father.

TW: Parental Neglect/Distancing, idk how to properly identify this trigger but I will be writing about some potentially heavy stuff in regards to parental instability so be wary of that if you wish to proceed.

TAGS: Emotional unavailability, hurt/comfort, angst

NOTES: Hi anon, thank you for requesting this, bby! This ask hit super close to home so I felt very confident that it was something I could write. While I might not have had these sweet boys to help me through my time, I hope these headcanons bring some sort of comfort to anyone dealing with this situation. And anon, if you yourself are dealing with this, know that I understand and I love you dearly ❤️ It’s not easy but it can be bearable. My inbox is always open, honeybun. (also we’re not gonna talk about how i switched tenses w each hc shhhh)

===================================

if you couldn’t tell by my url, i love tendou dearly, bby boy is my level of crackhead energy

literally the biggest asshole when it comes to teasing but i mean, you know he loves you

which is probably how he found out about your situation in the first place

y’all were probably joking around, making aggressive jabs at each other, name calling, the whole nine yards

“tendou you look like a fuckin’ troll doll, do not tell me I need a haircut”

“well y/n, anyone would be a damn troll for dating you”

you get the picture

it wasn’t until he made an off-handed comment about your dad not loving you that your mood INSTANTLY dropped

your chest got tight, your skin went numb, all breath from your lungs just WHOOSH

when he saw the tears slip from the brims of your eyes he finally stopped talking and lept to your side

he grabbed your face with both hands and started spewing apologies after asking what was wrong, he knew you liked to joke around with him like that but you never cried from something he said before

that’s when you sat him down (after some cuddles n kisses uwu) and explained everything to him

about your dad’s emotional unavailability, how you constantly pushed yourself in everything you did to get any sort of feedback from him, how you wanted to have that relationship everyone else seemed to have with their fathers

“it feels stupid to say but... i’ll never know what it feels like to be a daddy’s girl/boy.”

the whole time he’d listen intently, just soak up every word that came out of your mouth and nod occasionally to show that he was actively retaining the info

he’d have an arm slung around you and the other hand gently rubbed your thigh with his thumb, it only left the spot once or twice to wipe a stray tear from your face

and when you finished he went silent for a moment to really think it over. usually he’d be quicker with responses, but he didn’t want to potentially make you feel worse

he’d connect the dots during this process: he actually understood why you worked so hard all the time, why you got so happy when he praised you for the smallest things, why you always seemed to derail any conversations about your parents

he’d tell you that he might not understand what being isolated by a parent may feel like, but he definitely understands being cast out. he’d want you to understand that he truly felt for you, and you don’t have to be alone despite how your father makes you feel.

lowkey he’d probably offer to talk to your dad but that was just his protective crackhead slippin’ out, give him a head pat and firmly tell him no and that it’s okay

he said it gently but you definitely saw one of his eyebrows twitch and the look in his eye

he doesn’t want anyone makin’ his baby feel this way 🥺

once he managed to make you laugh with either that attempt of yelling at your dad or just crack a stupid joke that NEVER failed to make you giggle

he’d pull you into another hug and apologize on your neglectful dad’s behalf

“I know this won’t change anything, but I’m so sorry y/n... you deserve the world and more.”

then he’d tickle you again just to hear your sweet voice wail his name in a fit of laughter, it’s music to his ears

from then on he made the effort to check up on you, tell you how proud he was, how great you were doing at XYZ

bc although he couldn’t replace your dad, he would do his damndest to be your “emotional support daddy” i’m taking this term w me to the grave

i’m so so sorry but i never write for iwa so this might be a lil’ short or ooc pls don’t come for my neck i’m trying

but ooooooh iwa-chan

he probably won’t really connect the dots as quick as tendou would but it’s fine, it’ll work out

so you were tossing a volleyball back and forth at a park or smth

and this motherfucker was being so critical over everything you did

“y/n drop your shoulders”

“your feet aren’t wide enough apart”

“no, thumb over the palm, like this”

“HAJIME IF YOU’RE JUST GONNA CRITIQUE ME GO PLAY WITH FLATTY-KAWA, THEN”

this is why he was the volleyball player of the relationship, smh

but he just chuckled and half-apologized, making a joke about how he felt bad for your dad playing catch w you as a kid under his breath

boy did your shoulders drop then

your whole body slumped and the ball fell flat in front of you

Iwa gave you a confused look before seeing how wide your eyes went, the wetness steadily forming in the corners and the way your bottom lip trembled

“hey, hey, what’s wrong? did I really coach you too hard?”

he quickly walked over to you and pulled you into his chest, pressing a sweet lil kiss to the side of your head, a hand rubbing up and down your back

you shook your head and clung onto his shirt, the tears you were choking on making your mouth unable to move in response while your whole body trembled with the sudden overflow of emotion

meanwhile iwa’s just like ??? what did i do ???

clueless

but he held your through your crying fit and waited until you stopped sniffling and hiccuping to finally ask what was wrong, pulling you into his lap as he sat down on the grass

dude still thinks he just nagged you too much lol

you explained that you really didn’t have the best relationship with your dad, that your childhood was mostly spent playing by yourself and learning how to do certain things alone or through others

growing up happened way too fast for you and it was hard for you to actually enjoy it without a father figure who made an effort to connect with you, even now.

he’s got his hand rubbing up and down your back while you talk, cheek smushed on your head as he hums in acknowledgment ever so often

now he gets it.

he’s silent for a moment, then moves to press a gentle kiss to your temple before speaking

“I’ll help you out, with everything.”

He wants to be there for you for whatever milestones you have yet to complete, considering your father was never there for the ones you did.

he ALSO wants to shit on your dad for treating you poorly but he just keeps that to himself prolly plotting to do it on his own one day oml

he reassures you that he’s proud of how far you’ve gotten on your own without that fatherly guidance, and that he’ll never let you feel so alone and helpless again.

he’ll teach you everything you need to learn

“...and I promise to be a better volleyball coach, too.”

[ghostnebula]

I think we need werewolf richie fucking and knotting eddie but rough this time. The way Eddie likes it, maybe even just a little bit more.

anonymous: ok no but i gotta know. this werewolf richie thing is making my brain go fucking HAYWIRE PLSSS okok so does being a werewolf make richie's size kink worse?? like does he see how small eddie is and go fuCK Y E S i gotta protect that i gotta fuck that?? like out of wolf instincts or smth,, tell me what wolf instincts affect kinks i gotta know rn

I’m gonna answer these both at once because uuuuhhhhh oh my fuckin god? YES, being a werewolf makes Richie’s size kink worse. FUCK YES it does.

I’m imagining Richie just like… becoming hyperaware of how tiny Eddie is while they’re hanging out. It’s just the two of them, curled up on the couch in the Losers’ living room (they’re all in college together because I make the rules), watching terrible movies so they can make fun of the plots and the acting. Eddie’s leaning against Richie, legs stretched out across one end of the couch with his head kind of resting against his upper arm, and he’s got one of Richie’s hands pulled onto his lap so he can play with his fingers while he mocks someone’s fake British accent. Richie isn’t really paying too much attention to where Eddie’s pressed against him at first, because this is a pretty common practice for them. But he has this fleeting thought, while Eddie’s fiddling with his hand, that Eddie’s hands and fingers are just… so itty bitty.

And then it comes back and it sticks. Like… Eddie is itty bitty. That consumes his whole mind in the span of a few seconds. He knows Eddie is smaller than him, obviously – he’s not stupid. But in this moment it just feels more obvious than usual, maybe because of how they’re positioned, or maybe because of how dainty Eddie’s fingers feel on his wrist. Richie’s always been kind of turned on by their size difference, and when it’s at the forefront of his mind like this he becomes helpless against it.

This pretty little thing is his. This pretty, tiny thing asks him all the time to fuck him until he’s crying, and while Richie doesn’t want to treat him like he’s delicate (because he really isn’t), he doesn’t ever want to truly hurt him, and he never really trusts himself not to do that. He doesn’t trust himself not to lose control. Eddie will ask him to fuck him harder, bite him deeper, push him around more. And Richie can’t always give it to him, because he’s too busy trying to keep a handle on himself.

He twists his hand around in Eddie’s grip to capture both his wrists between his fingers, and marvels at the fact that he can even do that. “Hey!” Eddie says, playfully indignant, only pretending to fight the hold.

“Hey,” Richie shoots back, bending down to press a kiss near where his neck meets his shoulder. “I wanna fuck you.”

“Of course you do, you horny–” Eddie starts to say, but it tapers off into a high moan when Richie’s teeth sink into the skin he just kissed, deep enough to hurt the way he likes it to. Deep enough to break skin. Eddie pushes back into it.

He swallows the blood that floods his mouth and then licks at the wound a few times. “I wanna knot you.”

“Please,” Eddie squeaks, a shudder rolling up his spine, and Richie uses the grip he has on his wrists to drag him off the couch and upstairs to their room. He’s pulling their clothes off before he’s even closed the door, pushing a hand against Eddie’s back to shove him face-first onto the bed and demanding that he stay while Richie strips off his pants and lifts his hips until Eddie can get his knees planted firmly on the bed. He bites him again, low on his back, just above his ass, and Eddie gasps out a “Ohholyfuck!”

But he doesn’t stop there. He holds Eddie by his hips, which look so small under his hands, and bites all over his ass and thighs, drawing blood, and sucking hickeys everywhere that isn’t actively bleeding, only stopping every once in a while to admire the way Eddie – who knows better than to try to touch himself by now – has the sheets in a white-knuckled grip, or to spread his cheeks apart and lick over his hole. His nails dig into the soft skin on Eddie’s hips and thighs and make him bleed more where he isn’t already bruising deeply.

When he’s satisfied with his work, and he thinks no one who sees that will ever dare touch what is so clearly his, he folds his body over Eddie’s, dwarfing him under his bulk, and presses a kiss to his flushed cheek. Eddie mumbles something incoherent and turns his head to kiss him properly while Richie fumbles around on the nightstand trying to find the lube.

He starts fingering Eddie open while he’s still looming over him, and takes advantage of the position to do the same thing he did to his legs and his ass to the rest of his body, licking and sucking all over his throat, his shoulders, his back – wherever he can reach. Biting him with inhumanly sharp teeth, growling possessively while he licks up the blood that wells in the fucking holes he puts in his skin. Even the size of the bite marks he leaves look massive against the small expanse of Eddie’s back and curling around the side of his throat. “I love you,” he says before licking Eddie’s cheek and smearing a mixture of blood and saliva there. He draws back to pour more lube on his fingers and work it into Eddie, trying to stretch him out enough to take his knot, and Eddie jumps and hisses out, “Fuck!” when Richie presses too hard on his prostate, the muscles in his legs tensing while he turns his face against the sheets to muffle the sounds he’s making.

Richie barely thinks to wipe his hand clean on the corner of their blanket before grabbing both of Eddie’s wrists again and squeezing them together in one hand, hard enough to bruise, as he lines up his aching cock and sinks into Eddie – probably too fast, but he doesn’t get any complaints, so he doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t take it slow or easy at all, too preoccupied with claiming his sweet little plaything and making sure the world knows who he belongs to. He plants his free hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades and leans his weight on that arm, pinning his top half to the bed while he fucks into him, legs spread to encase Eddie between them. And that’s it, that’s what really gets him, is the sight of Eddie so tiny under just his hand, pinned down so easily, his petite wrists trapped between Richie’s fingers.

Richie’s fucking into him at a brutal pace, something he wouldn’t typically allow for himself, if only because he’s always stuck maintaining that precarious balance between giving Eddie everything he wants and preventing himself from becoming lost in his instincts. He’s usually got better self-control than this, but it’s really close to a full moon and Eddie is so fucking small and Richie loves him so fucking much and he’s also horny as hell, which is important here, and he needs to take care of his baby boy so no one else ever gets their hands on him, okay? Eddie’s making these soft little hiccupping noises under him, like the air’s being knocked out of him every time Richie thrusts too hard into the tight heat of his little body.

Richie presses his hand down harder on his back and leans forward to sink his teeth into the scar he made on the back of Eddie’s neck as he feels his knot start to catch. He doesn’t slow down, but he does thrust more shallowly as it swells up inside of Eddie until he can’t move anymore, not without making Eddie whimper from the discomfort of it, and then he’s coming and he can feel Eddie’s breathing hitch in the way his ribs seize under his hand. He’s still got his canines latched onto his mating bite, and the hand he’s pinning Eddie down with has the beginnings of claws tearing open his poor, bruised skin, and he realizes he’s on the verge of transformation, but for once that doesn’t scare him. Not when he knows he can step back from the brink – not when he knows he didn’t lose control, and he didn’t hurt Eddie. Not any more than he wanted, at least. He takes the hand he’s halfway to crushing Eddie with off of him and reaches between his legs to jerk him off. Almost immediately Eddie’s mouth is falling open, eyes squeezing shut, as he comes, his walls clenching around Richie’s knot.

It takes a few seconds for the mantra of mine mine mine mine minemineminemine to die down in his head, and a few seconds longer to realize he’s still growling against Eddie’s neck, hot blood coating his tongue. “Good baby,” is the first thing he says when he blinks away the haze and pries his jaw open to release Eddie, loosening his grip on his wrists – not letting them go, because he has to take a moment to rub some of the soreness out of them first. “You’re so good for me.” Eddie’s shaking under him still, but he looks completely blissed out, and when Richie leans down to kiss him, Eddie turns his head to meet him. He rubs his hands up and down Eddie’s sides a few times before moving them up to his shoulders so he can massage the stiffness out of them. “I’m gonna take care of you forever,” he promises, placing a gentle kiss just behind Eddie’s ear.

“I can take care of myself,” Eddie replies automatically, and it’s true – if anyone needs to be taken care of in this relationship, it’s probably Richie. But that isn’t what he meant. Instinctively, anyway, he’s got this urge to protect Eddie all the time, just as much as he’s got an urge to fuck and knot him all the damn time. Eddie’s more than capable even without Richie around to protect him, but that’s not gonna change his natural instincts.

“I know,” he says, smiling even though Eddie can’t see it. “I know you can, Eds. I just love you a lot.”

Eddie beckons him down for another kiss and offers a quiet, “I love you, too,” against his lips.

[ddaenggtan]

black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG,  some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it. 

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway. 

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience. 

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain. 

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands. 

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more." 

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet. 

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring. 

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected. 

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. 

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough. 

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago. 

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you. 

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better. 

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home. 

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from. 

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing. 

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering. 

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas. 

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd. 

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal. 

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault. 

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name? 

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do. 

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why. 

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success. 

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts. 

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point. 

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process. 

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing." 

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar. 

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks. 

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you." 

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered. 

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space. 

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat. 

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him. 

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive. 

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already. 

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you. 

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles. 

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows. 

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off . 

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse. 

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own. 

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want. 

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way. 

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear . 

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you. 

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are. 

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them. 

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you. 

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself. 

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all. 

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long. 

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar. 

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe. 

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off." 

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws. 

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?" 

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper. 

"You are going to wish that you could die." 

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it. 

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body. 

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight. 

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats. 

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have. 

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages. 

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself. 

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom. 

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns. 

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.” 

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs. 

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says. 

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them. 

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers. 

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out. 

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues. 

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest. 

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head. 

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is: 

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead. 

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway. 

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer. 

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you. 

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.” 

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal. 

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference. 

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is. 

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new. 

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will. 

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.  

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking. 

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore. 

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that. 

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you. 

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings. 

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment. 

Someone says your name and you swing. 

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor. 

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway. 

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to. 

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building. 

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too. 

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you. 

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love. 

If you can love. 

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed. 

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself. 

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is. 

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there. 

Until the night when it’s not. 

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win. 

You would take it back if you could. 

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster. 

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. 

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal. 

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them. 

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive. 

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips. 

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again. 

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you. 

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you. 

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist. 

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair. 

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out. 

“I didn’t-” 

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have. 

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking. 

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her. 

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough. 

It’s never enough. 

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan. 

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster. 

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing. 

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it. 

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips. 

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with. 

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go. 

Frustrated, you pull back. 

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown. 

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress. 

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees. 

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh. 

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free." 

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath. 

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat. 

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve." 

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits? 

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again. 

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time. 

Not with Taehyung. 

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him. 

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating. 

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could. 

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up." 

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind. 

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been. 

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately. 

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you . 

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.”

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you. 

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder. 

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come. 

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.” 

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for. 

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose. 

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena. 

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake. 

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs. 

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have. 

He’ll learn. 

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it. 

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face. 

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes. 

The giant swings. 

[dastardlydandelion]

Max Mayfield and Tory Nichols in a horror film, what would be the plot/monster and would they survive?

this is it. this is the tumblr ask. the ask i've been waiting for my whole life. my time to shine, here we go!

filming begins under the cut:

tried and true creature feature, this is a werewolf movie. let's go with a werewolf between the van helsing (2004) and trick r treat (2007) variety. the beast once transformed is fucking huge, clearly both lupine and human, head almost entirely wolf, body primarily bipedal in shape, but robust, sinew shredding claws and big ass bone tearing teeth. also tails!! bc tails are cute!!! powers include monstrous strength, accelerated speed, healing factor. weaknesses silver and decapitation.

okay, so van helsing (2004) werewolves are mindless rage monsters and trick r treat (2007) werewolves are cognizant. for our max & tory creature feature, they're gonna of the in between variety. i chose a werewolf movie for these two specifically bc they both have their anger problems and the werewolf has long been a symbol of anger unleashed in the horror genre, even tho common gray wolves are just like. i mean, yk, animals, they hunt and howl and pee on trees and most of the time would rather avoid humans. but obvi horror genre werewolves are not common gray wolves, they need to be scary, and like, the remnants of traditional folklore influenced by rabies and discourse in the middle ages...wait, where was i going with this? anger, yes, max and tory both have anger problems and i think this works for what i'm gonna do with this theoretical movie.

who's the werewolf in town? terry fucking silver. bc terry is evil and dramatic and also, i think it's rly funny for a werewolf to have silver as a surname. he's fully cognizant in his transformation and he's purposefully biting kids and teenagers bc he wants more talented karate students. and like. yk, with the enhanced strength, speed, and regenerative recovery of lycanthropy, well. there u have it, more talented karate students.

do max and tory know each other, if so, how? okay, so in this 'verse tory is a lil older than max. that reflects their canon ages, i think. let's say max is 13 and tory is 16. billy has tory in some of his classes and he more or less makes a deal to spilt his allowance with her if she'll babysit max bc he's tired of neil riding his ass to babysit max. tory needs money so she's like, 'sure, why not.' max finds it rly stupid that she's 13 and neil thinks she needs a fucking babysitter but as far as babysitters go, tory is fun. she likes to show max what she's learning in cobra kai and they spar together a lot. max would actually like to join cobra kai but 1) neil would throw a fit on various fronts and 2) lucas is in miyagi-do. max knows there's some rly intense beef between cobra kai and miyagi-do. ofc tory's filled her in on the karate war, how could she not?

well one day tory takes max to the playground to watch a plane fly like she does with miggy in ck, and it's nighttime, ofc, and lo, the full moon is out. shining up in the sky. they hear a howl. they both look at each other. max is kinda curious but tory's like nah, nah, we gotta go. she grabs her, starts pulling her along. but the next howl is a lot closer and they can hear smth running and it just sounds fuckin big. they're running too now, legs pumping hard, but there's no escape once the beast is right behind them, hot, rancid breath blasting the backs of their necks and harvest gold eyes glowing in the dark.

max gets bitten first. tory tries to kick the big ass beast off of her and then it rounds and bites her too. the terror is real now. and then shockingly, as fast as it'd come, it leaves. neither girl has an explanation for wtaf just happened but tory takes max home. billy gripes at her for being out late but helps her patch up. when susan learns what happens she decides to take max to get rabies shots right away. loads her up in the car, runs her off to the emergency room-- but when the bandages come off, they are no wounds.

tory's bby bro tries to help patch her up too. but he's like 4 yrs old and his idea of "help" is sticking bandaids with cartoon characters up and down the wounds in haphazard fashion. tory plans to redo it all properly once she's put him to bed. sure enough after he's asleep, and she peels the bandaids off from every open mouthed pac-man to every green teenage mutant ninja turtle, the wounds are gone.

meanwhile there's missing ppl err day on the news. terry turns kids and teens but kills adults for the lulz.

tory and max know what happened to them was an event that tangibly, definitely happened but neither have any explanation for their wounds just disappearing. max, our resident horror fan, is the first to propose a real life werewolf as an explanation. she cites the missing ppl on the news. tory thinks she's tripping balls but reluctantly gives an inch when she acknowledges no, she can't think of any other explanation.

life goes on. max tells lucas what happened only she leaves out the part abt tory bc she's not gonna tell a miyagi-do student she's kickin it w the enemy. he doesn't rly believe her, like how she didn't rly believe him about the upside-down in their canon. he thinks the horror movies are rotting her brain.

tory almost tells her dojo but she gets distracted being pissed off by sam and that should be her priority, right? sensei kreese is always going on abt getting back at the enemy. she spends her shifts daydreaming abt revenge bc it's more comforting than worrying abt past due bills and her mother looking paler by the day.

full moon next month comes around. neither tory nor max are cognizant of or during their first respective transformations. max's first kill is neil. she's seven feet of fur and fury, tears his ribcage open with claws like daggers and sinks her teeth into his putrid, maggoty heart. susan isn't home. billy is, but he doesn't hear any of the fracas. he's unconscious on the living room floor, crisscrossing impressions of neil's belt buckle blaring red on his back.

tory's first kill is sam. sam larusso wants to think she's a bully?? fine, tory will show her a bully. she hops the miyagi-do fence after hours. she just wants a fight. just a fight, they always fight. but then she's sprouting fur and tory as tory gives way to smth else. she'd not aware of being a person when she doesn't have fur. not really, all she knows is rage and ravenousness and the morsel below her has bunny rabbit wide eyes.

neither of them remember what they did the next day. not vividly, anyway. it's there but it's cloudy and hard to discern, like a groggy fever dream more than a memory. but max burps up neil's wedding band and tory finds señor octopus (sam's stuffed animal) bloodied in her bed. it's apparent what happened. max accepts this more easily than tory bc 1) she always kind of suspected she'd turn, since she sincerely considered what attacked them was a werewolf and 2) max isn't terribly upset abt killing neil while tory is acutely horrified she killed sam.

max kinda had some smidgen of attachment to neil bc like, he's the only father figure in her life and here and there they've had their moments. but his abuse (psychological/physical toward billy, sexual/financial/psychological/emotional toward susan, psychological/emotional toward herself) outweighed any and all of those moments. she is genuinely concerned that she tore a human being to pieces and only vaguely remembers it but like, if she had to kill anyone, she figures neil was the best to kill. max is mostly concerned bc she can't kill neil a second time. she's worried the next time she turns it could be an innocent person, or one of her friends, or her mom, or billy.

tory is blindsided and scarcely able to comprehend the reality, holy shit, max was right, she's a fuckin werewolf. and she's sick to her stomach bc she hated sam but she never wanted to do anything like that. she didn't want to kill, she just wanted to break her face. scare her. rough her up. she didn't want to eat her. she just killed someone. she's a literal horror movie monster and she just killed sam. what's miguel going to think?

tory and max talk. they decide they need to find the werewolf who turned them. we get montages of them going over the news articles with a fine-toothed *ba dum tss* comb and searching areas where it seems like a werewolf would be. the woods. some caves. max all of a sudden has a freakishly tall man constantly hounding her to join cobra kai. neil's gone but she still hesitates bc of lucas being in miyagi-do. also he believes max now and with the proff, she's decided to let the rest of the party in as well. they also exist in this 'verse. she showed them the crime scene and the wedding band she burped up. billy isn't a roid rage racist in this 'verse bc that would be a giant buzzkill. he doesn't believe the werewolf shit either. he thinks max saw neil get attacked by some animal and that the carnage was so traumatizing for her, she subconsciously created a werewolf fantasy to cope.

tory meanwhile spirals downward. bc she passes sam's memorialized locker in the hall everyday. her memorial table in the other hall, full of sticky note condolences and mournful teddy bears, and a picture of sam right in the center always, always accusing her. miggy is heartbroken and distraught. hawk didn't care for sam but even he's freaked out by what happened, how the news said there were only torn up chunks and bones picked clean found in her bedroom. tory is terrified of herself. she's desperate to find whoever did this bc she wants to make them pay. if sensei silver has been asking her extra questions lately and presenting her performance to the class more than normal, she doesn't notice at all. aisha notices tory's fucked up but tory can't exactly tell aisha that she *ate* sam. aisha is also mourning, she and sam used to be bffs. so she doesn't say a word.

max has a theory that if u can learn to control ur anger, u can learn to control urself when u shift. she is, after all, v familiar with angry horror movie werewolves. and she's savvy enough to know it's smth she and tory have in common. neil is dead but that doesn't mean max isn't angry anymore. she's still angry at the damage already done and tbh also angry that there's some werewolf around turning ppl willy nilly bc she recognizes the danger in that and it wasn't smth she consented to. but controlling ur anger is an easier feat for max than tory insofar that max has a support system w her friends, and better relationships with the remainder of her fam. tory has two mentors actively, adamantly teaching her and her friends to be ruthless, view the world as ur enemy, use violence as ur go-to solution, and that mercy is weakness not to be tolerated.

when the next full moon rolls around, they decide to spend it together under the correct inference that they will transform. they think it's better to be together. they're hoping they'll be able to control each other, if not themselves. or that if they are both mindless rage monsters again, that rage will be turned on each other. this would be a better outcome operating on the presumption that one werewolf will be able to take what another can dish out, at the v least more so than a regular human being.

max is successfully able to maintain enough of her consciousness to control her actions once transformed. she feels aggressive and hungry, but not enraged and ravenous. she can keep it in check. tory, on the other hand, uh...tory can't do it. she throws her wolf head back in the most bloodcurdling howl ever and takes off like a bat outta hell. max goes loping after her. they can't speak like human speak in this form, but max tries to communicate with her. whimpers plaintively. tackles tory at one point, not out of anger but just tryna subdue her, licks at her ears and tries to get her to settle. tory bucks her off.

tory runs off again, max in pursuit. they wind up at the skate park where billy n robby are prolly up to some fuckery or another. i could easily see pre miyagi-do robby n billy getting up to all kinds of mischief. ooh, actually, they're prolly arguing abt that. now that robby's in miyagi-do he has another outlet for all his energy and he's getting the positive attention he craves so he's not participating in hooligan activity or shenanigans w billy anymore and billy is like. offended. except suddenly there's werewolves. fucking. snarling, gigantic, toothy, hairy ass werewolves.

let's say robby kicked miguel down two stories in this 'verse too and tory recognizes him in her werewolf form even if she isn't exactly cognizant of herself. she tears straight for him, jaws open. billy doesn't exactly *mean* to protect him but it's kinda an automatic reaction from putting himself in between whenever he thought neil was getting too aggressive w susan or max. and like, sure, robby's the better fighter (not that billy would ever acknowledge this) but it's not like he's gonna karate kick the motherfuckin werewolf anyway-- billy is bigger, he's bigger and it's instinct and the next thing he knows, he's in between robby and the thing w sharp teeth (tory).

and that's when max gets serious. she bowls tory over, away from billy before she can bite. they're rolling, tearing at each other with teeth and claws. lo and behold, terry silver is lurking in the background like the evil mastermind he is, just watching them shred each other and evaluating his experiment. it's a p close match and tory is the more aggressive of the two but she's also been going, going, going since she shifted and she's burning herself out. she's also fighting with the blind instinct of a threatened animal while max maintains more precision bc she has better control of herself. max also isn't wasting energy unnecessarily. max gets her jaws around tory's throat and tory just goes slack. but she can think and she doesn't want to hurt tory, so she opens her mouth and relaxes her maw, teeth grazing harmlessly thru tory's fur.

tory's being shown mercy. possibly for the first time. it's so unlike her conception of others' ruthlessness, so unlike the worldview that's been instilled into her that it startles her enough to crack thru to her cognizance. she does the wolfy deference thing where they tuck their tails and lick at the dominant pack member's muzzle. max responds in kind and lets tory up.

this is when they notice terry lurking (billy's already worked out the werewolf that came to his defense is max so he's just dumbfounded watching all this shit, and robby's not abt to leave someone who just saved his ass, so he's stuck unsuccessfully tryna pull billy away and inevitably watching too). terry calmly slinks over, sizing up his charges. he's pleased with the performance. but tory and max are anything but, another werewolf fight ensues.

so while they all get huge after transforming sheerly on the basis of being werewolves, i'm gonna guess the size is proportionate to their human forms. so tory is a little larger than max and terry significantly outsizes them both. terry is also the more experienced werewolf. it's two against one but it's not the curbstop it would be if this was some weaksauce werewolf, it's dramatic evil karate werewolf terry fuckin silver. terry's shredding tf outta these two. their healing factor can't keep up, he's dishing out faster than either of them can recover and tbh they were already winded from fighting each other first.

but it'd be a major buzzkill if our movie had a downer ending. and also, the power of determination and friendship and shit. terry's got his jaws around max's throat now. he's a millisecond away from tearing it open. tory's pinned under him but she thinks fast, frees a hind leg, and rips her claws down his soft underbelly as deep as she can and doesn't stop ripping, like pedal kicking almost for a human, but with her hind claws. his intestines shoot out like paper snakes from a gag candy can!! okay, well, maybe they don't shoot out w that much gusto, but still. the bowels are free, the bowels are hanging low and tory's tearing 'em tf up, fluids n fecal matter errywhere. on tory. i'm sorry tory. ur under him, that's just how gravity works.

terry dies. healing factor can't keep up with the damage done, it's too critical. but nobody knows it's terry until the dawn breaks and he reverts back to his human shape.

max is v much 'i told u so,' in billy's face. robby promises not to tell. he doesn't want to get mauled or killed or anything. tory's able to cope better with what she did to sam knowing that it won't happen again, that she won't hurt anyone else she doesn't want to be she can control herself now. tory believes in mercy now bc max spared her, she trashes kreese's philosophy and joins eagle fang when johnny and daniel join forces in this 'verse too. max also joins eagle fang, takes her place in the front row right between tory and lucas at her v first practice.

credits roll.

after the credits we see tory considering turning her mother in the hopes that having the healing factor would help her mom's condition improve.

is that a teaser for the sequel?

idfk.

[izukult]

This is such a cute idea! I’m addicted to making weirdly specific Spotify playlists so this is perfect. I have an ✨eclectic✨ music taste but my favorites are usually bedroom pop (mxmtoon, chloe moriondo, khai dreams, etc), romantic classical (think Debussy and Revel), and indie (although I like some Megan Thee Stallion, AC/DC, Nirvana, etc when I’m hyping myself up). As far as my personality goes, I’m pretty insightful and like to support people whenever I can, even if I don’t know them well. I can be a little chaotic sometimes, but I like to think it’s a chaotic good. I love tea, blankets, philosophy, deep conversations, the outdoors, and writing. I’m also an INFP and a Taurus :)

Sorry if that was too much, thank you so much! Take care of yourself and stay well

- Elle ʕ•ᴥ•��

( @snoozless ) you don’t understand how bad i want to be your friend. 😐😐 ok so you kind of get bonus 😀 but it rly might not be bonus because akfjakdkw. so, i gave you matsukawa!! but he’s not always like revered about so if u want a character lmk!! i am. in love w him tho. you’re so sweet you would balance him out and yall would be equally chaotic together.

he would have philosophical questions w u!! he might just be a little blunt & might accidentally cut the convo short, but he would listen to everything you said.

he’s used to a wide variety of music bc i’m convinced the seijoh playlists are absolutely fucking cracked like so loud. so he really could sit there and listen to anything. and i mean ANYTHING. like if you wanted to put on christian rock he’d awkwardly try to tap his foot on beat for you.

but, that doesn’t mean he’s gonna geek over you i feel like he’d be pretty private about the relationship. he’s not like secretive but he’s not gonna post you every two seconds yknow? he wouldnt put prom photos, but if yall went to look at the stars or go on a little hike he’d take a pic and youre wearing baggy sweats and one of his shirts and your hair isnt brushed for shit and it’s way too dark to properly make your face out and he’d put that shit on his main absolutely 😒

this man would be the kind of mf to look up his “crush’s” zodiac just for shits & giggles, so if he randomly knows a taurus fact, don’t question it<3 (he looked up your compatibility and he will take that to the grave)

issei is an infp idc. so yall got that in common.

he’s genuinely so pretty.

bc i took so long, i’m going to put descriptions for all the songs i love you thanks for requesting sorry for taking forever i’ll link the playlist and list the songs<3

1. silly girl- chloe moriondo

okay while this song is actually kinda sad, i think tHIS is pretty cute. issei comes off as this intimidating guy, and the more you get to know him the more you forget ab this idea of him you had or whatever? like the lyrics “i made him perfect, cause i wanted him to be” are really prominent in the point i’m tryna make because like even tho the lyric is obviously sad bitch shit, music is up for interpretation and this is like “hello ok he actually a real mf and shiiit maybe he cool😁✊”

2. nice boys- TEMPOREX

kinda sad. i don’t care how unemotional he might act, everyone has shit that brings them down. PLUS HES A PISCES THERES NO WAY HES NOT SAD SOMETIMES. this song just really taps into insecurities for him, and the song just gets under his skin in like a very therapeutic way. also ��because he’s a pisces” some of his emotions are super intense so the “because he cares too much” line hits him fuckin hard

3. IV. sweatpants- childish gambino

this is some shit he listens to more with his team, absolutely. no doubt they blare this shit during weekly practice. but, he really really likes the song. so, when you’re hanging out and he has the aux? it’s one of the first ones he puts on. you two jam to it together. he’ll come up w dumb little dances to fit with certain lyrics (stole some of them from oikawa and hanamaki, but he won’t tell you)

4. you get me so high- the neighbourhood

okay unfortunately i must say him and hanamaki get fuckin faded in empty fields at two am all trashy like. but they make it look good idc. and if you smoke, cool, if you don’t he does not care. he always associated getting high with,,, getting high and everytime he listened to this song it just was one of his getting blazed jams, but now he’s got like a different kinda “euphoric” feel with loving you? like i said this bitch is a pisces even if he doesn’t overwhelm you with affection, he thinks ab you 24/7

5. 80’s makeout session- dacelynn

thIS SONG IS SO CUTE. but it’s p self explanatory. in love and also spare a kiss pls

6. can i call you tonight- dayglow

i feel like actually coming to terms with genuine feelings for someone would be kind of weird for issei. like no offense, but he sees it as kind of a pain in the ass. i genuinely think he would be someone to put his all into work or a task in front of him. he’s super intuitive, and constantly uses it to be better. whether it’s in volleyball or like cremating ppl i guess (HE WORKS INA FUNERAL HOME POST TIME SKIP IF U DIDNT KNOW). and it’s the same in relationships, but it’s also harder because he can’t have this complete clear head because you make his brain go kinda fuzzy. so, this song is like his little way of expressing that even tho he was like ‘internally conflicted’ this mf chose to go for it and that’s how much u mean to him

7. clair de lune, L. 32- claude debussy

i’m gonna be fucking honest with you. even though he’ll listen to anything, i really don’t think this man is looking up ‘classical romance study tunes’ playlists in his free time. he definitely enjoys the music, but that’s only if someone points it out to him. and he’s listened to you talk about it before, and watched you as you heard the piano and gauged your reactions and thought u were pretty cute he’s not gonna lie😼. so he definitely just looked up classical romance and picked the first recommended song and added it on there. he’ll dance w you a lil bit, but it wouldn’t be that quiet, intimate slow dancing in the dark you think would come w this song. itd just be a little sway as he hugs you from behind while you get water, or he twirls you once randomly with a laugh UGH I LOVE HIM

8. like real people do- hozier

ok. this one was fun for me. idc. double meaning lol. so this song is literally about two dead bodies in a bog and ,,, and he works in a funeral home PLS LMAOFJAJDJA I THINK THATS SO FUCKING FUNNY AND SO DOES HE. but also this song literally is my idea of love. this is my idea of love. and yall listen to it, with your stupid little death joke, but he looks at you and he’s just like ‘oh’. yknow? YKNOW?

9. BS- still woozy

like i said, i think he puts a lot into work. and he literally plays for a powerhouse school there’s no way he doesn’t practice a lot. so that means there’s a lot of time where he’s physically not there and definitely can’t text, because he’s trying to improve. and while he wouldn’t stop volleyball for someone else, he understands that you are like super amazing for being so Cool with him not being the most available. the song just reminds him of how compassionate you are and also he does miss u when he’s at practice YKNOW?

10. i <3 u- boy pablo

this one made me so fucking soft ew. ok. this song reminds him of you so so much. he’s totally okay being vulnerable with you? and even though he has pretty heightened emotions, he’s never felt like so strongly for smth other than like ??? volleyball and caring ab his siblings (BUT HE FEELS DIFFERENT FOR U THAN HE DOES FOR A VOLLEYBALL AND HIS SIBLINGS PLEASE😁). HE LUVVVVV YOU

11. heart-shaped box- nirvana

so many reasons. for one, simply fucking JAM. yall would scream this on a drive. if you ever got drunk together, this would be the first song you play. also, little lyrics remind you of each other. (the pisces lyric in the first and third verse, and even tho the flowers aren’t being used in a sweet sense in the song he does remember talking ab flowers w u, and now any flower is mentioned and he’s like “ah yes. my girlfriend.”)

12. pluto projector- rex orange county

FUCK. FUCK THIS SONG. GOD. NO. LIKE HE REALIZES HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU WITH THIS SONG. HE T E L L S YOU HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU WITH THIS SONG. the first time, he just sends you the name of it like ‘pluto projector <3’ and you listen and it’s so sweet and ur like ayo turn this shit up. and he adds it to your playlist, which definitely gets a smile from you. and then one night like two weeks later youre just laying together, and he’s running his fingers through his hair and he pulls away for a second to grab his phone and he turns the song on and you just listen to it in silence and it’s so fucking intimate. and he’s just like “i don’t think i’ve ever related to a song more” and you think he’s making a joke so you tell him to shut up (also jokingly) and he just laughs and it’s dark in his room and he’s playing with your hair again and he just goes “god, if you’re telling me to shut up over that i don’t even want to imagine how you’re gonna react when i tell you i love you” and it’s right around 3:10 in the song i’m literally so gone for him. bye you cry and try to hide it but he can tell HES PERCEPTIVE

13. i wanna be yours- arctic monkeys

okay for one, it’s a good song. it’s a song he absolutely let’s play in the background, just to cover the static lol. but also? ALSO? THE TITLE APPLIES TO YOU THE FUCK? it’s as if,,, he’s whipped,,

14. supermassive black hole- muse

hanamaki prolly showed him this song, and it’s one of his vibe songs. he will do falsetto while singing it if he’s in a really good mood and it just makes everyone laugh, including himself. it actually kind of grosses him out, because this song used to literally just be a song he would aimlessly go hard to but NOW his little bitch ass is like “you set my soul alight”? i guess i relate and “oh baby, i’m a fool for you” well, surely i’m not a fool but yea i get you muse sing it. it’s so gross. at this point he wants one thing that doesn’t make him think of you, just to prove that he’s not that gone, but he struggling

15. desperado- rhianna

i’m sorry to say it but this song makes him feel like a bad bitch LMAOOOOO. like if he’s ever getting pregame jitters or anything, he will just play this song. whether it’s on the speaker or in his headphones, he puts this shit on full volume and gets a lil too cocky LOL. this is also on the main seijoh playlist no doubt. he wants to share his bad bitch song w you, so you can aLSO feel like a bad bitch?? dUH

IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT BABES! IF YOU WANT ANY OF THE SONGS CHANGED (or even the character) LMK!! UR AMAZING ur so sweet it makes me ill