#but i found some sclera skin detail to add

[aurorangen]

so tempted to change my default eyes...

[bump1nthen1ght]

Attention to Detail (M!Reader x M!Demon)

Pairing: Male!Demon Cosplayer x Male!Demon

Genre: Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Flirty, Fluffy

Word Count: 2563 words

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Halloween is a great time to subtly flex your cosplay skills, pouring hour and hours into your costume. You’d even found an occult book at a second-hand store for reference! At a house party, someone pays special attention to all your hard work.

Request: I’m so glad you’re doing well and good!

Can I request a Male Demon x Male Demon Cosplayer on halloween night? Cosplayer could think that the demon is just another dude unaware of the actual danger he’s in?

and maybe could the demon praise and love cosplayer for cosplaying their kind and getting all the little details just right? 🥹

Sometimes, house parties aren’t so bad.

Sure, they could be crowded, smelly, and way too loud. But that was often a by-product of teenage stupidity and desperation; too many bodies crammed into one place, scrambling for beer and faking adulthood. As an adult they get a lot more tolerable. Comes with practice, you suppose.

This halloween house party has been great so far. You’d come with a group of friends who'd all split up, leaving you to find more drinks in the kitchen, but it wasn’t super stifling. You’d actually gotten a lot of compliments on your costume too, a little ego boost to ease you into socializing with all the strangers.

This kitchen is nice as well. Spacious, lots of counter space, some really nice cooking ware. The kinda thing you appreciate more as an adult. The walls helped block out a lot of the music as well, a perfect hiding hole to refill your beverages and recharge your battery for a second. And adjust your costume. God, leather and sweat do not mix.

You take the time and admire your costume-paint, several runes decorating up and down your bare arms. The paint held up pretty well after dancing for so long, the intricate lines still being cohesive. Your body paint had begun to chafe and smudge a little at your knees and elbows, but luckily were hidden beneath your many leather accessories. 

“Ow, fuck!”

A voice snaps you from your admiration, a shadowed figure with a red solo cup in his hand, now rubbing his forehead.

“Damned horns. These infernal houses are too small…” He doesn’t seem to notice you at all when he ducks his head and enters the kitchen. It makes sense, you’re probably under his line of sight because holy fuck this guy is tall.

You're not the best frame of reference, still sitting on the counter as you are, but he’s pushing 6 '6, maybe even 6' 7. Not including the horns, which seemed to add an extra 3 inches of height alone. You wonder what they’re made of to support their bulk. They stay pinned to his head well too, despite the bump. His paint is immaculately done, dark purple showing no signs of fading or chipping away.

“You need some ice?”

That catches his attention, your quiet voice somehow making this absolute giant of a man jump out of his skin. His eyes are wide, yellow sclera glowing in the dark.

Gotta ask where he got those contacts. They look so real.

Said eyes go up and down, his nose twitching as he takes a deep breath. His face crinkles. Jeez, did you smell that bad? You’d made sure to wear deodorant!

“No…I am alright.” He rubs the sore area again. “It’s just the third time it’s happened. Who lives in this house? Imps?”

That gets a snort from you.

“I think you're just tall, dude. Those horns are killer though, totally worth a casual head injury.”

The tall cosplayer stands a little bit taller, finally relaxing and properly looking you in the eye.

“Thank you. I like..” His eyes narrow, “..yours too.”

You brush a hand across your clip-on horns, gentle enough to not mess with the paint. You had set it, but those hours of shaving down the foam and painting were not to go to waste. “Thanks, not that sturdy but I figured I wouldn’t be headbanging too much tonight.”

The man goes silent, eyes now locked on your arms. You twist your forearm, wondering if maybe the paint had smudged while you weren’t looking.

“Those are incredible.” The man is able to cross the length of the room in just one stride, now firmly in your bubble. You figure he must be a little tipsy and not realize, so you brush it off. Hard to be mad when you’re getting complimented.

“Thanks, man. It was hard getting the shapes just right in the mirror. But I think I did an okay job.”

“You did a fantastic job.” He eyes the specific curves of one rune, the more intricate one on your inner wrist. “People often mess this one up, you see. They forget the toz’goth.”

He gestures to a small arrow-like shape protruding out of the side of the rune.

“Is that how you say it?” The book you had copied from hadn’t had many English sections, most being in a script unrecognizable to you or Google Translate. “Good to know.”

“May I?” The man gestures towards your forearm, palm out and stretched open to hold. You quirk up an eyebrow. You don’t even know this guy's name and he’s already asking for a feel?

But he has been giving me a lot of praise, sooooo.

It’s a mixture of the alcohol and the need for approval that has you nodding, setting your arm into his palm. You finally notice his long, sharp black nails as they gently wrap around your wrist, hand ensconcing it in its size. A textured thumb brushes across your inner wrist. A (hopefully) impercitable shiver runs down your spine.

Can’t say I hate this.

The man mutters under his breath as he traces more and more of the runes, nodding approvingly. You try not to shake with giddy.

“The detail you’ve managed with just a paintbrush is astonishing.” His low voice does pleasant things to your stomach, eyes still locked in thought. 

“Thanks, I got a nice set for Christmas. One benefit of being the ‘artist’ of the family, I guess.” You snort, thinking back to all the cheap sets you’d gotten over the years. The thought was appreciated, if nothing else. “I buy the paint in bulk, it does great for really long wear time. I can send you the link, if you want.”

The man just hums, eyes now crawling farther up your arm to your biceps, then to your shoulders. It lands on your neck and you swear the man darts out his tongue to lick his lips when he lands on your pulse. Your stomach flips again.

“My name's ____, by the way. What’s yours?”

The man's eyes go slightly wide, a smirk curling up the sides. 

“Galvith, the Torturer.”

“Ah, much cooler than mine already.” You play long, a little salty he didn’t give you his real name when you gave yours, but whatever. Maybe he’s just really method with his cosplays, or a more private person in general. “It’s a shame, left all my torturing stuff at home. Otherwise us demons could have had some real fun.”

That gets a laugh, a shockingly boisterous laugh. You see the hints of sharp canines, surely fake, that almost glint in the low light.

“Yes, I bet we could.” Galvith chuckles to himself, almost like he’s remembering an inside joke. “I’d be the brawn, you’d be the brains behind the operation?”

“Well, if you insist.” You throw your hand in a faux sign of humility. “Just didn’t want you to waste all those muscles, big guy.” Patting his chest is a good way for you to subtly feel his chest, and wow are those pecs prominent. Gotta respect the hustle, Galvith is a brick shithouse.

Galvith takes the compliment easily, going the extra mile and flexing his bicep, which is almost as big as the honeydew melon sitting not too far from you. Thank god you’re sitting, or else you’d have probably swooned already. 

“Think we’d have to get you a different outfit though. Cargo shorts and a graphic tee aren’t really giving ‘torturer’.”

“And I suppose all of this  is?” Galvith flicks at a tassel on your leather vest. “Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of leather?”

“Hey man, don’t hate the look! What kind of torture-expert would I be if I didn’t bring style to the gig?”

“A messy one, that’s what.” Galvith takes a step back eyeing your whole outfit, from your vest to your ripped jeans to your combat boots with studs. “You’re less tortue-expert and more Incubus. All style and,” He eyes up your exposed clavicle, tracing it with his eyes, “-debauchery.”

The word feels so perfect coming out his mouth, like it was molded by it. This hard seltzer must be stronger than you thought, cause you can’t remember the last time a total stranger had you this horny.

“Well maybe I’m looking to change positions. Heard it’s much cushier, being an Incubus and all.”

Gavith chuckles, eyes once more rolling up and down your body. Goosebumps pepper the back of your neck, a primordial something settling in your gut. You're not sure if it’s a good or bad thing.

“You’ve certainly got the looks for it, little one.” He clicks his teeth, fake fangs and all. You’re impressed by the durability, and how he doesn’t seem to speak with a lisp with them in.

You find yourself getting lost in his contacts, yellow and slitted. They don’t seem to be irritating him at all, and you add it to the list to ask what his prescription is. It’ll be hard to remember though, when he places a hand right by your thigh, enclosing into your space.

“Do you like to dance, my little Incubus?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow the lump in your throat, once again getting lost in his hot gaze, in that sultry look. “Yeah, I like to dance.”

“Good.” A clawed hand settles on your lower back, pushing you off the counter and practically in his arms. On the ground, it’s even more noticeable just how big Galvith is. “Let’s test out that body paint, shall we?”

—

It’s hot on the make-shift dance floor, despite just being a mat laid out in the backyard, a wireless speaker pumping the top 100 over the party noise. But with Galvith’s hands on your hips, those fangs nipping at the top of your ear, you're steamy.

“I must admit, I’m a fan of this new genre of human music.”

Galvith whispers in your ear, swaying your bodies to the drum beat. 

“I think they call it ‘pop’.” You play along, adding an extra haught to your voice, as if you're really 100 plus years old.

“Hm, like the pop of a vertebrae when you snap it in half. Or a bone being forced out of the socket.”

That has you both laughing, that shared dark humor coming in clutch. You could get down with this kind of roleplay.

“Exactly! The most pleasant sound around.”

Galvith swings you by the hips, your feet nearly lifting off the ground. Your head gets thrown back in a giggle. Seems like those muscles aren’t just for show.

“Oh, what is this?”

Galvith grabs at your necklace, now untucked from your high collar and free flowing. His eyes go slightly wide at the intricate design, composed of several small circles and wrapping lines. 

“A friend made it for me actually. She makes jewelry and I offered to trade some leather pieces for a custom design.” You look at the emblem, wondering if he recognized whatever series the book you found came from. It was extremely detailed, and although a bit on the older side, was full of information too niche to be from any religions you’re aware of. You double checked and everything. 

“Asmaes.” Galvith purrs, twirling the sigils between his fingers. The silver chain rubs against the back of your neck. “Fitting piece, you chose well my little Incubus. Superb craftsmanship as well, kudos to your friend.”

“Thanks, I’ll let her know.” 

Before you can ask him more about the book, he spins you around once more, the world turning as he drops you into a dip. Galvith pulls you up with just as much ease, your ankle hooking around his calf so you don’t collide face-first.

Hot breath blows across your lips, your tongue darting out for just a second. Up-close, those fake fangs look even more real. The closeness is almost too much, your eyes darting to look away. But a calloused thumb presses against your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“So…delectable.”

Sweat pools at your clavicle as Galvith kisses you. Your costume fangs clank together, almost coming loose in your mouth, but it’s hard to care. Not when his hand comes down to your hip, grabbing you and pushing you against him.

It’s easy to fall into the kiss, for that sense of shame to fall to the wayside, even as he practically devours you in front of all these people. You’re not usually like this, you don’t come to these parties for someone to kiss and grind against. But there’s something about him, something thats drawing you in. It’s hot, like a moth to a flame.

The only thing that drags you out of the lust-bubble is the vibration of a phone in Galvith’s pocket, resonating against the thigh you currently have pressed up against him. He growls into your mouth, pulling back at the very last moment.

Galvith curses in a foreign language, you think, grabbing the phone with one hand, the other still swaying you side to side.

“What?”

You swallow down a weird jump of fear. Jeez, you would not want to be on the other side of that phone call.

An unintelligible voice babbles something from the speaker. The vein in Galvith’s head begins to bulge.

“Fine. Whatever.”

He hangs up as the other person is mid-sentence. You don’t even get a chance to ask who it was, before he steals you in another breath-taking kiss.

“Sorry, little human. I have to go.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, sorry.” You try to unlodge yourself from his arms, the haze of kissing fading and feeling a little more than embarrassed. God, what came over you? But Galvith’s grip is tight, keeping you in place with an alluring smirk.

“Do not worry, we will meet again. Sometime soon.” 

You try not to let your smile get too wide, to seem too eager. “Sure thing. Do you want my phone number, or-”

Galvith digs his face into your neck, taking a deep whiff. You nearly squeak. He pulls away with a shuddering breath, wetting his bottom lip.

“I’ll know where to find you.”

Finally, Galvith unwinds his arms, letting you free. You find yourself almost lurching forward, desperate to feel that heat again.

It’s gotta be the alcohol, right? That’s the only logical explanation.

Galvith gives you one last peck to the cheek, a cheeky squeeze of your ass.

“Goodbye, my sweetling.”

With that he’s sauntering back into the house, leaving you speechless and breathless. All alone in someone’s backyard.

I gotta find my friends. They gotta hear about this.

—

Galvith has to sneak into a broom closet to teleport, just barely large enough to fit him. It’s demeaning, even if the spell takes just a second to go through.

Ugh, the one time he finds an interesting human, and he’s called in for an ‘emergency.’ He had wanted to scream at the amatuer demon over the phone. “It’s torture! How hard could it be to figure it out!?”

Galvith steals himself. It will do no good to be angry. Save it for the poor soul currently strung up by his ankles. He takes a deep sniff of the palm of his hand, the smell of leather, denim and your sweat still lingering.

He’ll come back for his little human. One day.

[crownshattered]

|| While I'm gone, take some info for the new OC I'm gonna add once I'm back~ She's my dnd/bg3 oc, Faenethra!!

BASICS

Faenethra (or Neth, but no one but her sister calls her that. Don't call her that unless you're close to her. She will correct you.) is a drow~ She's a fighter who uses dual-wielding swords as well as some magic here and there.

Neth has darker grey/blue skin and eyes such a pale lavender that it's hard to see her irises and pupils within her sclera (meaning that she is very sensitive to light without the shade of her hood). Her hair is snow white with streaks of blue dye that matches her sister's own blue streaks. She has a lean muscular, yet still slim build. Neth is very pretty, but that doesn't mean much since she's a drow and people naturally don't trust her.

Neth does not follow Lolth. She's a Seldarine Drow, not because she's upset with Lolth or drow culture, but just because she isn't exactly used to it (plus she has an aversion to spiders but that's mostly for comedy XDD). I need to figure out the specific details about her past, but when she was little she somehow left the dark depths of the drow residence and found herself alone aboveground.

Neth's alignment is lawful neutral. Faenethra is pretty cold and distant to everyone except her sister, but that's because of the shit she has endured her whole life. She's used to people distrusting her because she's a drow, so now she just expects it. If she's a bitch who doesn't care what people think about her, she won't be hurt when people hate her just because of her heritage. But she is actually very loyal to those she cares about. Around her sister, she will smile and laugh and even joke. It's very hard to get close to her, but if you do, it's very rewarding. Nothing matters more to her than the people she cares about.

BACKSTORY

When she was a little girl, she met a high-elf child (from a well-known family at that) named Verathandi (my sister's oc). They were both so young that they didn't understand the issues associated with drow, so Verathandi treated the strange girl with kindness. The two were secret best friends. Vera helped provide for Neth when she had nothing, and soon enough, Vera brought Neth to meet her family so her parents could help her as well. However...her family shunned Neth and forbade Vera from spending any time with her. But instead of listening to her parents, Verathandi ran away from home with Faenethra.

The two girls grew up on their own, traveling around and taking care of each other. They now see each other as sisters even though they aren't at all related or even the same race. Verathandi grew up to become a druid while Faenethra became a fighter to help protect her sister.

ETC.

Neth doesn't like it when people judge her because of her heritage, of course, but she makes it work for her. She uses her 'drow-ness' to intimidate people without any actual intent on fighting. Neth doesn't actually enjoy fighting, and if she can find a pacifist route, she will. But she won't go out of her way to find one. If getting out of trouble without a fight is too difficult...she'll just fight her way through. Still, she'll try to scare people off. It's better than killing them, at least.

Neth has very little connection to her culture. Her sister, Vera, knows more about high-elf culture, but that's mostly due to the education she had before she ran away. The two elven women made their own culture together. Neth isn't influenced by drow matriarchy or religion, and if they're used in her favor, it would make her stomach twist into knots with disgust. But she'll still use it to avoid conflict, if she's able to.

Faenethra once wanted to be a bard, back when she was little. Of course, she quickly learned that a drow bard is laughable at best, so she decided to do something more practical and be a fighter to help protect her sister and herself. But she has a very nice voice and a great ear for music, but her talent is just raw talent without any sort of molding. She doesn't really sing anymore, but if she's alone...you may hear a soft and beautiful tune coming from the drow woman. It brings her some joy.

Yeah, she's uncomfortable around spiders XDD It's mostly a joke, but it's also a real thing for her~ She isn't afraid of them, just uneasy. She won't usually run from them, but...if a spider jumped out at her, she may scream XDD

More TBA?? PLEASE let me know if she seems interesting~ I've been playing a lot of bg3 lately and I am just itching to write my girl~

[akanidaifanatic]

OH, OPHELIA [OC ONESHOT]

You’ve been on my mind, girl, since the flood Oh, Ophelia Heaven help the fool who falls in love

-

(Apologies if this story is rather vague and confusing, I’m pretty bad at writing. This is just a oneshot but I’ll put it into details in the rest of the lore if I post it. This is basically a fictional version of the real world but add in a few extra continents.)

Headmistress Aurora Evangeline Ophelia Moonstone of the Academies of the Gifted wasn’t usually seen crying.

“Usually” was nowhere near “always” in this case.

On a particularly beautiful night, on a day with a cloudless night sky and a full moon, the view from her office was undeniably beautiful.

Another thing that was undeniable was that around this time of the year, it would be a birthday of sorts for the Academies of the Gifted.

And Headmistress Moonstone was included.

She was basically a giant, standing at eleven feet and eleven inches. Her white hair was done up in a massive, towering beehive. She had no pupils or irises—only an empty mass in her eyes. Just the pure white of her sclera and nothing else.

Her skin was dark and smooth (students asked for her skincare routine sometimes) and she had an intimidating air around her at all times.

A young Ophelia Moonstone entered the school’s testing version of a sort (a phony program for juveniles which caused hundreds of deaths due to experiments) and never came back home.

She found herself being infused with power beyond what she could bear while she was a mortal.

Then she wound up getting stuck in some kind of dormant state for decades to come, frozen in the prime of her youth, while those she loved ended up getting killed in World War II.

From what the headmistress knew, her parents went to live with their relatives for a while—the house they were in burned to the ground after a fire in 1942.

Meanwhile, her closest friend was enlisted as a soldier in 1943 from what she heard.

He was killed in action.

Now, years later, Ophelia was a grown woman—actually, no, she was an OLD woman who wore black each and every day since she would mourn the people whose names she’d already forgotten, but the feelings she had around them had not been lost to time.

She had been given eternal life to contain every pit of the magic which slowly seeped out of her.

As a result, Ophelia Moonstone had changed her name to something much more extravagant.

Aurora Evangeline Ophelia Moonstone.

When she opened the gates of the Academies of the Gifted in 1975 (since she had nothing else to devote herself to and those founders who took advantage of her prowess in magic were dead), she considered herself a new person.

She had no time for nonsense. She was upright, uptight and had a tight schedule.

Students handed love letters in at times.

The headmistress advised that they seek therapy.

But deep down inside, she was still little Ophelia, daydreaming about nonsense (the only thing she could call reminiscing about those she lost).

As she stood on a balcony, she’d glance down at her draping pearl necklace, and know that it was one of her last mementos which reminded her of the past she couldn’t remember too well.

Then she was snapped back to the present by a student’s voice.

“Headmistress Moonstone?”

The headmistress whipped around. She would recognize that voice anywhere.

Rose.

The student who had been like the daughter she never had.

Rose held out a small black comb with white pearls embedded into it in a straight line. Red roses carved from rubies were at the end of that line.

“It’s a little something I found earlier while I was rummaging through my stuff. I’m kinda hoping it reminds you of me in case you forget about me. And your, uh, ‘birthday’ is coming up, so-“ Rose fidgeted with her fingers as the headmistress took and inspected the little item.

Headmistress Moonstone had forgotten her real birthday after about a century of being alive. Even though she was still quite youthful in appearance, she had the mind of an old woman. So she decided to think that her “new birthday” was on the day that she’d opened the Academies of the Gifted.

As she smiled and looked straight at Rose, she wanted to let the girl know that she was grateful for the gift.

There was a visible contrast between the headmistress and her favorite student (Gaia Academy’s Student Council Vice President and valedictorian) in terms of appearances (Rose was a fairy, Ophelia was a human), but honestly, they weren’t that different when it came to remembering things and their lifestyles.

Both were extravagant and serious.

But right now, they were just acting like a mother-daughter duo (Rose was acting like a nervous kid giving her mom a gift on Mother’s Day, while Ophelia could be Rose’s grandma or great-grandma instead of her mother).

“Well, er, thank you.” The headmistress smiled.

“I— uh, you’re welcome, I gotta go now, I hope nobody catches me— it’s past curfew and I—“ Rose stammered.

“You do know you can just fly off the balcony.”

The headmistress pointed into the abyss.

“Oh, right, why didn’t I think of that?”

Rose darted away, speeding into flight and eventually flying her way back to campus, which was far below the highest turret of the faculty’s castle.

As Ophelia sighed and stared at the moon, she glanced at the comb Rose gave her.

It gave her something to remember her favorite student by, and she started realizing she remembered this from somewhere.

As a child, she remembered her best friend blabbing on about going to Phrygia.

They’d watch TV broadcasts of whatever stuff the Imperial Family did (nothing much, really, just diplomacy and stuff, which was good) and she swore to God Almighty that the Empress Consort at the time had always been combing her hair with that thing. The TV screen was black-and-white, but Ophelia basically knew it was the same thing she was holding right now.

Ophelia remembered that Rose was the Crown Princess of the Phrygian Empire who desperately needed therapy and a lot of nice friends.

And the headmistress remembered that her best friend never got to see Phrygia in person. But she did. Hell, the Academies of the Gifted were on an island in its territory.

She had to accept that he died at sixteen and that was the truth.

Now, she was going to take care of Rose. The poor girl had been put under pressure her whole life.

Ophelia wanted to make sure Rose spent the prime of her youth as a happy teenager.

The headmistress wanted her favorite student to live the life she never had.

-

In the distant future, a hundred years after World War II ended, World War III had begun and the schools Headmistress Moonstone had spent ages designing were turned into shelters.

Rose, now the Empress Regnant of Phrygia, was trying to keep her country afloat.

Headmistress Moonstone, on the other hand, was feeding hundreds of mouths with the food she stocked as she tried to ensure her students and her workers that she had things under control.

She didn’t.

She could only hope she’d make it through another war without being dormant.

[horrorslashergirl]

Slasher OC: Ambros Abendroth

Full Name: Ambros Abendroth (immortal evening/dusk)

Nickname(s): Amber, Thorn, Iron Devil

Age: N/A (died at age 32 but in human form he looks 32)

Gender: Male

Nationality: German, American

Place of Birth: Germany, Berlin

Current Location: Germany; Baden-Württemberg, The Black Forest

Occupation: Former Botanist and Gardener, Now Vengeful Spirit of the Black Forest

Languages: English, German, Italian and French

Appearance:

Height: As a human 6'3/ As an evil spirit 7'5

Weight: 290lbs

Body Type: As a human, he was pretty lean and athletic, nothing flashy, but as a vengeful spirit his body changed completely, turning into a massive in-human tall giant of a man that can crush any human's skull with only one hand without much effort.

Skin Color: As a human, a porcelain pale tone, but as a demonic spirit, his skin is a very dark shade of grey, covered by ivy with thorns, and sometimes you can see faint glimpses of rosebuds and even small bloomed roses

Hair Color: Midnight Black

Hair Style: Spikey and all wild, a wild mane with small branches with thorns coming out of his scalp

Eye Color: As a human, he had sky bright blue eyes, but as an evil entity, his eyes changed, his sclera all black and his iris a blood-red color, shining into the darkness of the forest

Clothing: He wears medieval-style boots, black or dark-colored pants with many straps and pockets, a black tattered shirt with a hood to cover his head, over his upper body he wears a brown colored jacket with dark creme colored fur details and his face is hidden by a grey iron mask with horns and some delicate accents around.

Other features: What's behind the mask is something out of nightmares. Like his body, his face is a dark grey color with cracks and branches with thorns twisting around his face. His mouth is split open with razor-sharp teeth and a long black split tongue. He has long black taloned claws covered with thorns. When he takes his fully demonic form, thick black vines like tentacles emerge from his back, covered in thorns and barbed wire. Plus, long sharp antlers emerge from his head, covered by scarlet roses.

Weapons: Supranatural Powers

Power/Skills:

Demonic powers

Possession

Advanced intelligence

Shapeshifting

Telepathy

Manipulation

Intimidation

Manipulation of the Forest Tundra

Inflicting hallucinations

Teleportation

Tentacle appendages

Absorbing people into the forest floor

In-Human Strength

Regeneration

Immortality

Torture methodology

Murder methods

History/Bio:

Ambros was born from a German father and American mother in Berlin, living a fairly normal, perfect childhood, having friends all around like him for his warm giving personality. His father worked as an engineer while his mother owned a flower shop. He found himself to be intrigued by all the plants and flowery decorations his mother did and so he pursued a dream to become a botanist earlier in high school, where he met his future wife, Hannah, to whom he proposed after they finished high school.

Just like his mother, Hannah was very intrigued and passionate about flowers and told Ambros that she would love to have her own flower shop after she finishes college. They pursued college together, Ambros getting a degree into Botanic and making Hannah's wish come true by opening a small flower shop into a small town where they moved together.

From their marriage, after they moved into the small town, Calw; Baden-Württemberg into a cozy two-story house, two children were born, creating a beautiful family picture that would later be destroyed by a horrible event.

While on a camping trip into The Black Forest, a forest close to the small town they lived, Ambros and his family were assaulted by a group of men, who slit his children's throats, raped his wife, gauging her beautiful green eyes out and finally killed her. He had to watch all of this, held back by the men, not having any upper power against them. The group of men broke all his joints, making sure he wouldn't be able to get up, and left him to bleed out into the forest next to the corpse of his family.

After he died, Ambros spirit never left for the afterlife but morphed into something dreadful, a creature out of nightmares, his soul turning into pure evil and becoming one with the forest.

After one month, the men returned with a woman, trying to sexually assault her, but they were all stopped and brutally murdered by the vengeful spirit of Ambros, their screams echoing into the darkness of the forest, ripping them slowly to shreds, the forest floor swallowing them down for their bodies to be never found again.

After that, Ambros offered his hand to the said woman, thinking in a delusion that she was his wife only for her to reject his help and try to run away. That only raged the forest spirit and before she could even leave the forest, vines with thorns started to erupt from deep within her body; mouth, ears, nose, and parts of her skin, killing her painfully and slowly.

Personality:

As a human Ambros was a laid-back, work hard, and chivalrous guy, caring for the people close to him, family, friends etc.

As the evil vengeful spirit that he became after he died; all warmness vanished and was replaced by cold and sharp thorns. Ambros is an enigmatic and foreboding figure, seldom exhibiting any characteristics outside of a burning desire to maim and torture those who enter The Black Forest; HIS forest for he became one with it after he died. Utterly relentless with his prey, pursuing his desired to kill and turn his victims into one with the forest floor, ripping their bodies apart, pushing his thick thorns covered vine-like tentacles through their bodies, inflicting immense pain.

Despite his sadistic behavior, he does experience intense emotions, such as when he sees a woman, reminding him of his long-lost wife and trying to pursue her, offering his hand, but if she rejects him, she will suffer a slow and gruesome death.

Despite being dead, he can shapeshift into his human form but only by day-light for at night he turns into the monster that he was destined to be for eternity.

He lives into the two-story cabin he bought when he first came into town, not able to leave it, for this is where memories of his family are, alone and mourning each day of this painful loss and wearing the curse of the Black Forest. He tries in vain to find his 'wife' in other women and to re-create his family back, wanting his children back.

In his human form: brave, chivalrous, clever, hard-working, assertive, enigmatic

In his demon form: aggressive, sadistic, cruel, mocking, ferocious, beastly

His favorite drink: Strawberry Lemonade

His favorite food: American style food like hamburgers and fries

Other Characteristics:

He has full sleeve tattoos of roses with thorns and a rose in the middle of his chest

His human form:

(Might add more info if I come up with something)

[someone-elsa]

Soulmate Eyes now available as custom as well! The default version is the same as before, no need to re-download.

Custom version has (almost) all the same colours as the defaults. In addition, I made 50 new colours as well.

• All colours are available for every occult! • All colours also available as contact lenses (face paint) • Not allowed for random

S W A T C H E S

♦ Natural 1 (the human defaults) ♦ Natural 2 (14 more colours) ♦ Alien (the 9 alien defaults) ♦ Vampire (the 12 colours with white sclera from my defaults, they don’t glow!) ♦ Mermaid (the 9 mermaid defaults) ♦ Berry (19 berry-ish colours) ♦ Human add-ons (some mermaid and vampire colours + 3 extra on human iris, 17 colours)

Contact lenses come in 5 packages, found in Face paint (custom thumbnails): ♦ Natural (Natural 1 + 2) ♦ Natural 2 (different from Natural 2 listed above, sorry about the confusing names... Swatch) ♦ Occult (Alien + Evil clone version, Vampire, + Mermaid) ♦ Extra (Berry + Human add-ons) ♦ Occult 2 (Werewolves, all colours with white and black sclera) ✨ Update on 11.2.2021 ✨ Contact lenses now work with make up sliders! In addition, I made an iris only version so that hue slider doesn’t affect the sclera.

✨ Update on 20.6.2021 ✨ Added more natural swatches (contact lenses only). These are available in skin details too but no iris only version. They can be found in the Contact lenses zip, with NaturalSwatches2 in the filename.

✨ Update on 19.3.2022 ✨ Some textures needed fixing, so please re-download following Contact Lenses packages: .... NaturalSwatches.package .... NaturalSwatches2.package .... NaturalSwatches2_skinDetail.package

The iris only versions and other unnatural swatches didn’t need updating.

✨ Update on 20.09.2022 ✨ Updated Contact Lenses (added evil alien clone swatch): ... OccultSwatches.package ... _IrisOnly__OccultSwatches.package

Added new Contact Lenses files: ... OccultSwatches2.package ... OccultSwatches2_LipRingLeft.package

Both include Werewolf swatches with white and black sclera. LipRingLeft package is especially for werewolves (and found under Lip Ring Left accessories, as the name suggests).

✨ Update on 18.03.2023 ✨ Custom eyes have been updated by @oatberrytea​ so they work for infant patch! Get them here ♥ (my folders still have the old files)

C C • C R E D I T S

Sim in preview picture: Hairline • Skin Overlay • Eyebrows • Lipstick • Blush • Eyeliner

Happy simming! Let me know if I’ve messed up something.

D O W N L O A D

CUSTOM • EYES SFS (no ads) • Mediafire folder (no ads) CONTACT • LENSES SFS (no ads) • Mediafire folder (no ads)

DEFAULT • EYES

Feel free to merge or unmerge the packages to make a set of your liking :)

[samwrights]

I Found You

I have no excuses for this one except I’m a dirty dirty Overhaul fucker.

On the real though, this one was very loosely inspired from Yagami Yato’s plot lines for Dabi and Overhaul. These routes inspired the Underground and Dabi and Kai’s occupations, otherwise everything else was just me being a simp.

⤞ Pairing: tattooed!Reader x Former Villain!Chisaki Kai

⤞ Word Count: 16,850. Yes you read that right.

⤞ Warnings: language, arson, awkward questions, reader smokes, I shafted Dabi again and made him the best friend...again, slightly vivid gore, mentions of death, male masturbation, daddy kink, age difference, breeding kink (ish), dirty talk, dom!Kai, 

I’m sorry this is so long. Just kidding, no I’m not. I love writing really long fics. Honestly, I’m trying to see how much I can push the boundaries of my writing and how long I can keep one idea conhesive and consistent and how much I can flesh out. Eventually these longer oneshots will be cross-posted to my AO3, I just really need to do my paper. Also Tropium Tattoos is pronounced as Tro-Pie-Um.

The color of fire always burns in accordance to temperature as well as the material that it’s burning. Watching the local Underground clinic slash orphanage burn not only red, but an almost ethereal green from the copper couplings and details of the building felt like an early Christmas warning—like the Underground was a target and the rest of the hidden city would soon follow by the holiday. That warning was only followed by disgust at the thought of someone feeling the need to go after a free clinic and orphanage in a city built out of a hollow sewer full of exiles for whatever fucking reason. 

Your heart is an amalgam of aching and sorrow and anger as you watch the flames burst through the windows of the shoddy building from a safe distance. From where you stood outside of your tattoo parlor only two blocks down, you see a crowd beginning together. Much to your surprise, most of them were only kids with one adult herding them—a man you recognized to be the owner of the building currently meeting its demise. 

The doctor of the clinic is as calm as ever, or rather trying to be, quietly attempting to do a headcount of his children. It seemed that concentration was alluding him, given the situation, because he swears up and down that he knows he has nine kids. Yet, he seemed to be unable to count past eight. He’s trying not to panic, but one of the kids speaks his greatest fear into fruition. “Daddy, Eri’s not here!” Golden eyes widen until the sclerae are fully round, pupils constricting in fear. This ‘Eri’ was special, you realize as you observe from a short distance away. The doctor is looking back at his children who are all in some form of tears and shambles then back at the burning building like a ferocious game of ping pong. Chisaki Kai can’t just leave his kids out here—not when he is almost certain that this attack was premeditated. But his daughter, his eldest daughter at that, was still inside potentially being engulfed by flames. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

Your body moves without a second thought. 

Your body moves, ignoring the screams from other bystanders for you not to go inside the burning clinic as you burst past the dilapidated red door. Upon entering, copper decor and steel support beams had fallen from the ceiling, sparking flames that were separating you from the stairwell that led up to the orphanage. There was no way you would be able to find this Eri person through the wreckage—not alone at least. Maybe your dumb quirk was good for something. 

You didn’t even realize you had a quirk until the age of twenty when you had gotten your first tattoo. It wasn’t anything crazy—a traditional-style three-eyed wolf’s head on your arm—only to wake up the following morning with no soreness, no tenderness, and no ink on your body. The wolf laid beside you, curled up in your bed, somehow manifesting into real life. At first it was terrifying, of course, but after learning how to return the creature back to your body you realize it might not have been a total waste of money. Your quirk, something you jokingly called the Magic Pencil quirk in reference to a Spongebob Squarepants episode from your childhood, was officially registered through the government on the Surface as Life Canvas. Again, it was a pretty dumb quirk unless you knew just what to utilize. Now your body was littered with dozens of creatures, weapons, hell even a telephone just in case you might need it. But the wolf was your favorite, as it was your first, and he was just the one to call for in this situation. Activating your quirk, you pinch at the ink on your forearm until it begins to peel off before setting it down on the ground. The line work stands on its own before the ink fills out into a three-dimensional mass and a now recognizable creature. 

“There’s a child somewhere here. Help me find them,” you implored your creation, cautiously climbing around the shambles while it did the same, though much nimbler than you. Fragments of the stairs were missing, some of railings were in flames—it was hard for you to get anywhere at the moment. A scream rips through the walls, a young girl you realize. She’s probably now seeing your large and somewhat creepy three-eyed wolf. Maneuvering carefully, you find spots that have yet to burn until you see a little girl cowering away from flames in her bedroom and away from your quirk. “Take my hand!” You try to scream, but the way building was going down was deafening. Instead, you cross a patch of fire to scoop the frail child in your arms and trapping the both of you behind a brazen wall of flames. Patting the wolf on the head, as if deflating it with your magical hands, it flattens back into a two dimensional drawing and returns to your body to grant you the ability to switch out to a manifestation that would prove to be more useful in this situation. You repeat the process, this time with a Phoenix from under your bosom that emerges just outside the window closest to the two of you. “Hold on tight,” you tell her as you pull her flush against your own body before smashing through glass to land the back of the Phoenix, covering her head to make sure the shards didn’t mar her skin. With a gentle descent, you place her feet first on the concrete with her family. 

“Eri!” The doctor of the clinic calls out in relief, arms wrapping around his daughter tightly. Your lips purse in a small, tight smile before you’re off on your way again, riding off into the horizon on the back of your strange creature. And for a moment, Chisaki Kai is torn between going after you to thank you while Overhaul wants nothing more than cleanse his children and you for touching his precious daughter with a vile quirk. He settles on the former, golden eyes watching your back disappear into the dark cavern of the Underground city. 

Weeks had passed since the fire burned down the orphanage clinic. Tabloids were published trying to figure out who the mysterious hero was, though most of the articles feared that an actual Hero was among the residents of the Underground. The Underground welcomes Heroes like the human body welcomes the plague—they tried to be eradicated and killed off. Not to say that quirks themselves weren’t welcome, no. It’s just that most of the residents were quirkless and those that did have one were all registered in a public database, separate from the government mandated one up on the Surface, so that quirk wielders were no secret. 

All but you, anyway. 

One of these well-known resident holders was Chisaki Kai. Quirk: Overhaul. Local doctor and caretaker of the orphaned, quirkless kids. Though, whether their powers had yet to manifest or he had removed them himself due to his vile distaste for the genetic mutation was unknown to the public. 

Another was the leader of the Underground: Dabi. The Cremation user who was presently lounging in one of your dingy, beat up sofas of your tattoo shop. “You know, most of the people just want to know who you are,” he supplies, flipping through the most recent news article. Instantly, he knew it was you that had rescued the little girl from the burning building, knowing full well of your quirk regardless of how rarely you used it. 

“And half of them want my head because they think I’m a Hero,” you spit the last word out as you finish tidying up your workspace. Your last client of the evening had just left, leaving you to close up shop while Dabi came to bother you as you did so. Not that you complained considering he had been a close friend for a long time. “Like I would ever be a Hero.” Heroes were the reason you and many others here in the Underground existed in this hidden sewer metropolis. Whether the Heroes had destroyed their livelihoods, their families or, in your case, accidentally killed your parents while you were still a teenager and you had nowhere to go, they were at fault for the creation of this cozy, dingy city. 

“Says here that Eri wishes to personally thank you,” Dabi adds, turquoise eyes flickering in your direction as you stop at the mention of her name. “We could hold some little rally, get you a medal—“

“Dabi, no.”

“—or you could just stop by town hall with me. Overhaul and the kids have been staying there while the clinic gets rebuilt.” You mull his words over in your head while capping all your ink bottles and putting them away in their respective drawers. Dabi takes your silence as a gesture of you thinking, even more so as you aggressively sanitize your client chair. “Come on, [ name ], she’s just a kid.”

“Yeah, but I hate kids.”

“Then stop acting like one.” With that, the leader leaves your shop, bells tolling as he exits. You weren’t being childish, you internally bite, silently and stubbornly. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t want to just announce that the lone tattoo artist of the Underground had a quirk that the public didn’t know about. It wasn’t your fault that your body moved without thinking. And it certainly wasn’t your fault that you rescued the daughter of the most notorious quirk hater in the city. 

Chisaki Kai was not quiet when it came for his distaste of quirks despite having one himself. Rumors floated all around the Underground that all of the children in his care had their quirks removed by his own hand, Eri included. What kind of monster did that? To his own child, no less. The thought made you sick to your stomach, only reaffirming your initial decision to not meet with Eri. 

But thinking of her brings great sadness to you. She was merely a child—a child who probably didn’t understand her father’s distaste. A kid who just wanted to thank the woman who saved her and nothing else. A sigh passes your lips as you head up the stairs from your shop to your attached apartment, turning off the lights to Tropium Tattoos. It’s not fair to deny her, you think. 

Maybe you’ll just sleep on it for now. 

 The following morning was quiet, as it was every morning in a city built out of a sewer. But eerily...too quiet. The sound of chirping nature and wildlife was a foreign concept now, especially years later. But there were no sound of bikes or clunky old cars passing by or arguing neighbors—if noise was present at all, it was in the form of faint crackling and crinkling of papier-mâché but somehow on a grander scale. It was new. There’s a grotesque smell in the air; a cross between a stale bonfire and rotting wood and warm smoke. 

Oh no. 

Oh fuck.

Panic fills your veins, throwing your nearly bare body out from under the covers. Ripping open your bedroom door and flying out the narrow entryway that led to the stairwell, you’re met with orange flames burning the wood of your staircase leading down to your shop. There’s no time for you to think about anything other than retreating back to your living room, to where the flames had yet to enter the threshold. Glancing out the large bay window behind your couch, you debate how steep of a drop it is from your second story down onto the cold pavement without sparing a second thought to how you could break your own fall. Contemplation wears down at your time to escape, you realize, as the fire is now entering your living space and burning brightly like a firework and catches onto the wooden console table in your entryway as well as the walls. Without another moment’s hesitation, you throw yourself through the window, bracing for impact from both the glass and the inevitable shattering of at least one bone. 

“[ name ]?!” You hear Dabi yelling over the sound of collapsing support beams from the inside of the building. All that’s on your mind is pain—throbbing pain and an ear-splitting cry as you try to cradle your probably broken arm from the back alley of your shop. Dabi calls out your name again, running over towards you while still trying to be somewhat mindful of all the shards of glass in fear of accidentally kicking more in your direction. Between rapid breaths, a few heavy coughs escape your lungs, no doubt from smoke inhalation. “I got you,” he murmurs as he picks you up gingerly. Another groan leaves your lips—your whole body hurts and were you more coherent and not in shock, you probably would have realized sooner that you’d broken more than just your arm. “Find who did this and bring them to me,” Dabi snarls at the small squadron behind him attempting to put out the fire that was destroying your livelihood as he makes his way back to town hall. 

It takes everything in Dabi’s body to not stamp his entire way back into his living quarters and the only reason he isn’t is because he’s carrying your busted body. This is the fourth fire in two weeks with no discernible pattern. All he knows is that it started with Overhaul’s clinic and now has somehow reached your quaint and quiet tattoo shop. As a leader, it makes Dabi want to tear his hair out. As a friend, he’s just pissed off. 

He’s thankful you’ve passed out just so he doesn’t have to deal with you bitching about how gruff he’s being. Though, it certainly dawned on him that you had probably fallen unconscious from the sheer agonizing pain of breaking multiple bones simultaneously. He sets you down, far from gently, in the residential living room upstairs of the Town Hall building. “Overhaul!” He bellows out, not even caring if the children heard his angry tone right now. 

“I told you to stop calling me that,” the doctor appears from around the corner, a clearly agitated look on his face, even beneath a simple black mask. The irony isn’t lost on Dabi despite his composure—he remembers once upon a time when Kai only went by the name of his quirk. Funny how years go by. “Her again?” Overhaul all but sneers, looking at your limp body that was covered only in a thin tee shirt and a pair of panties. Ignoring that little fact of seeing so much painted flesh, he notices the distinct smell of burnt wood and swelling under the skin where the breaks were. “What happened to her?”

“Someone set [ name ]’s tattoo shop and apartment on fire. She jumped out of a window to get out.” Dabi is absolutely seething, little sparks of blue flames leaving his nostrils as he lets out tufts of air. “Idiot had no idea how to break her fall and busted her shit. Can you help her?” 

“I suppose that would make us even.” The doctor snarks back thoughtlessly, but he can’t help but wonder why you didn’t use your little quirk to save yourself as you had with Eri. 

“Good. I’m gonna go find this fucker.” With that, Dabi storms out of the living room and out of the town hall building, leaving Kai with the woman that saved his daughter’s life. At least maybe now, Eri could say thank you like she had been asking to do. He could say thank you. 

Chisaki adjusts you on the couch so that you’re entirely flat on the cushions, mindful of the glass that’s embedded in your skin. If anything, he should probably remove those first. With gloved hands, he picks out all the shards he can see with his golden eyes while his mind wanders as he looks at the lines and colors of the tattoos that covered your body. From neck to toe, there was ink on nearly every inch—even the one dragon-snake hybrid on your face that wrapped around your temple and cheekbone. Despite your [ hair color ] locks matting your skin, Overhaul found all of your tattoos rather intriguing to look at; almost as if it weren’t flesh because the contact wasn’t causing him to break out in hives. Like your body told a story without you even needing to speak. 

After getting all the glass cleared up, Kai gently pushed on your arms and legs, checking for any signs of bones out of place from where they should be or cushioning and swelling to protect the damaged areas, outside of the very obvious ones that nearly looked like softballs. Two breaks in your femur, four in your ulna from what he could feel—nothing that Overhaul couldn’t fix. Though, he had to make sure that everything had set the way it was supposed to and that you were able to use your limbs after he did the repair. That meant he would actually have to speak to you, and he comes to the realization the two of you never actually had the chance to speak to each other before. Maybe he shouldn’t be as judgmental of the fact that you had a defect—maybe you were like him and abhorrent at the fact that you had a mutation to begin with. 

After using his own quirk, Overhaul checks for a pulse on your neck with two fingers, making sure you at least had a heartbeat before patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness. In the meantime, he continues picking out the fragments of glass that escaped his initial sweep—a task made slightly easier when the shards caught the light contrasted the dark lines embedded in your dermis. For a brief second, you stir against his touch before your eyes snap open. “Holy fuck, what happened?” You all but howl when you come to. You let out a deep gasp for breath, suddenly aware of the dull throbbing in your arm and leg as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings. 

“Can you tell me if this hurts?” The doctor to your left says evenly, emotionless even, as he holds your wrist between his thumb and middle finger, moving your arm in all sorts of ways. A sharp inhalation sucks in between your teeth as it twists in ways you weren’t sure it could before. A grimace touches his lips underneath is plain, black cloth mask—maybe he didn’t set the bones correctly? Overhaul lays your arm flat, ready to make his adjustments, but as his gloved fingers padded closer, you found yourself retreating further into the depths of the couch cushions. 

“I-I’m good,” your words come rushing out, desperate to dodge his touch. Why did you wake up with Overhaul over you? Did he take your quirk away? You’d have to investigate further when you were alone, test it out in private. Ignoring the dull hums of pain coming from your arms and legs, you manage to sit up, slumping over your knees before you realized where you were. “Town hall?”

“Yes. Do you remember anything?” You shake your head—you remember waking up to smelling the smoke in your apartment. You remember the fire creeping up the stairwell and the way orange painted your once tan walls. You remember jumping out the window, but everything else after is met with a blank slate. “You broke your arm and legs in a few places—I reset them with my quirk.”

“Oh,” is all you have to say. “Uh, thank you.”

“Speaking of thank you,” Overhaul palms his knees before pushing off of them from the wooden stool he’s sitting on, standing at his full height and smoothing out his black dress shirt and slightly creased slacks. “My daughter would like to thank you for rescuing her a few weeks back.” 

Dammit. 

It wasn’t like you could just say no to Eri’s father when it was only the two of you—that would just make you look like an asshole or worse; he could just kill you and say you died in the fire. It was even more difficult to decline considering the young, silver-haired girl was peeking her head from behind a partition, wide-eyed when her dad mentioned her. With your own eyes softening at the sudden contact, you offer an awkward smile that you pray comes off as welcoming. Overhaul beckons her to come closer, holding one hand open until the young girl is tucked underneath his hip. 

“U-Um, t-thank you for saving me,” a squeak spills past her dry lips before she runs out of the room as quickly as she came. You didn’t blame her. Even if Overhaul is her father, he gave off an intimidating air that surely would frighten any child. It made you wonder how such a man ran an orphanage. But to your surprise, Eri returned, though this time not alone. A flock of children was accompanying her, each of them with bright eyes and big smiles adorning their unique appearances. 

“Thank you for saving our sister!” They chime in unison. The sight made your heart swell and soften, even if only slightly. Eri steps forward cautiously, pushing through her own trepidation as she stands before you and throws herself at you, hugging you tightly with arms around your neck in gratitude. As if triggering a domino effect, a few of the other children felt the need to express the same sentiment. An uncomfortable laugh bubbles past your lips as you awkwardly wrap your arms around the gaggle of kids—you may not like them, but you weren’t that much of an asshole to deny them a hug. 

Kai’s typically hard, cold expression mellows at the sight. It’s heartwarming, he gave it that, but a part of him cannot stave off the tiny bubble of envy he feels seeing his children so ready to embrace you when they initially had such a hard time adjusting to life with him. He loved these kids—and it was quite clear you felt the opposite—so why hadn’t they gravitated towards him like they did you? Underneath his mask, he grimaced before internally shaking his head. They were his children, they loved Kai regardless and he knew that. “Alright kids, why don’t you go play and let [ name ] rest? It’s been a rough morning for her.” The use of your name shouldn’t have shocked you, or maybe it was fear that crawled up your spine at the doctor’s endearing tone. You weren’t aware that he knew who you were. The kids let out a collective groan before listening to their father and exiting the living room. As soon as each of their little, youthful heads is out of sight, you breathe out a sigh of relief. 

“S-sorry,” you mumble out, suddenly reminding yourself that it was probably rude of you to make a sound as such and you wanted to make sure you did nothing to insult Overhaul to his face. A huge part of you felt that one wrong word out of your mouth meant the end of your quirk or your life. 

“It’s alright, I know they can be a handful. Though, they seem to be quite taken with you.” His tone is still rather polite, you notice, and his voice is entirely different than what you’d thought it would be in a one on one interaction. You thought it would be deeper, as whispers and rumors of Chisaki Kai being an incredibly cruel, bitter man painted a different picture in your head. But the man standing before you looked every bit as broken as you felt on the inside—as if a part of him had an empty chasm residing in his chest that could not be filled by the nine children in his care. 

“I can’t imagine why,” you reply. 

“Neither can I,” he says without skipping a beat, his tone still airy and light. Before you can rebuttal with your quick wit, Dabi storms in with his eyes locked on to your now conscious body. Gesturing with his head, over exaggerating the folds of his damaged skin, he encourages you to follow him downstairs to the mayoral study. Silently, you sauntered off behind him, leaving Overhaul alone in the living room, while you could feel the internal flames burning within Dabi. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe the look on his face.

In the office, photographs of burnt down buildings, rubble, and the skeletal framework of Underground businesses were littered across the large, maple desk. All the while, the leader of the Underground was grumbling to himself repeatedly while tugging at his raven locks in frustration. Not only had someone burned down local businesses in the city, let alone a close friend’s business, but it seemed that someone was attacking his city from the inside. “I wasn’t able to save Tropium.” You offer no response, mostly because there isn’t one to have. You felt anguish over losing your home, sure, but knowing how hard Dabi worked to protect the Underground, you can’t quite imagine how he’s feeling.

Instead, you respond with, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I should be asking you that. Your home is gone, [ name ].” He had a valid point. Perhaps you could find a few local contractors and give them some work—it wasn’t like you didn’t have the money to spare. But that would probably take some time considering, from photo evidence, the place—all of them—was going to need to be built from the ashes. “Stay here while you figure it out. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t you already have Overhaul and the kids staying here?” Maybe Dabi didn’t notice the way your voice trembled as you spoke his name, even more so after having woken up to him by your side. But the thought of you, a quirk wielder that kept that little fact hidden from the public, temporarily boarding with a man who was vehemently against the abomination of quirks gave you severe anxiety. Additionally, there was the nine little children that also were a factor and the thought of one of them waking up in your temporary residence and intruding on what little privacy you would have—

“And?” Dabi asks, pulling you from your reverie. “[ name ], I know I don’t say this enough, but you’re one of my closest friends. I don’t feel right not giving you a place to sleep.” His quirk may be Cremation, but Dabi was a master manipulator when it came to pulling at your heartstrings whether or not he was aware of that. You let out a sigh of conceding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to argue your way out of this one. 

“One condition, bud,” you hold up a single index finger, the black quill feather tattooed there standing erect, “find me some contractors to help rebuild all the buildings that were burned dow.”

“That’s gonna cost ya,” Dabi hums, as if contemplating. And he was, but rather in estimated cost as opposed to the proposal itself. Physical currency was a rarity in the Underground, as the city ran on a merit and bartering system. Real Surface money was only used for certain occupations. Realistically speaking, he knew money was no object to you considering the wealth, or rather hush money, you acquired from your parents’ death, so there had to be another reason. Knowing you as well as he did, it was probably the fact that the faster your homes were rebuilt, the less time you would have to spend sharing walls with Overhaul. Very smart, the leader mused. “You got a deal, doll.”

 You lost count of the days that had gone by since you took over the project of rebuilding the structures that had gone down. While the orphanage project had already begun, you had hired two additional bodies to help the progress go faster so that Dabi could return to his duties without the addition of eleven more mouths to feed. Simultaneously, you had been at your own construction lot from metaphorical sunup to sundown, helping contribute and manage the two men that were hired for your location. 

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you told Dabi repeatedly when he asked where you’d been all day. 

This project was an opportunity for you to set up shop in a reimagined way—to be able to design both your studio space and your living space exactly to your tastes. It had sort of become your baby and you wanted to be as hands on as possible. 

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you kept telling yourself. 

Tropium’s new store front was stunning, albeit a bit ill-fitting with its new modern style in contrast to the Underground’s more rustic, steampunk look. But the charcoal grey stone walls with chunky white trim filled your heart with a sense of pride that your business would hopefully rise from the ashes much like that of the Phoenix tattooed under your bosom. 

Currently, you were upstairs with the tiny team of contractors while going over the floor plan of your currently bare apartment. Given the space of the empty building, you managed to enlarge your rooms at the cost of downsizing your entryway and living room. It still felt homey and, with the addition of a small office that served as a spare bedroom, you figured on nights that Dabi hung out and didn’t feel like going home, he had a space too. After laying out the floor plan and going over schematics with the team, you ventured back downstairs to continue sanding down the counters for your studio space. 

“So, this is where you’ve been spending your time?” Oxygen freezes in your throat as you’re met with Overhaul’s golden eyes and black mask. Albeit he wasn’t in his normal dress shirt and tie for once, but rather sporting an oversized hoodie and tight denim jeans. 

“W-what are you doing here?” Is all you can say back. You aren’t sure if you’re moving or even breathing at this point. The pressure you feel from a man whose face is half-covered is terrifying—liquid gold was dull in comparison to the intimidating eyes of Chisaki Kai. 

“Dabi told me about your little deal,” his voice rolls like honey straight from the dripper as he makes small flits toward you that subconsciously leave you retreating back up the stairs one step at time. A deep groan rumbles in his chest when he sees your reaction—not that he blames you in the slightest. Overhaul is more than aware of his notorious reputation both in the real world and in the Underground and is accepting of strangers’ reluctance to be around him. He knows he’s partially to blame for not trying to quell the stigma around him by formally introducing himself prior. maybe not being such a condescending jackass when he first officially met you would have helped as well. 

But he can’t squash the little bouts of jealousy that filled him seeing his children flock to you like dragonflies in search of water that almost make him bask in your trepidation. 

“Take a walk with me,” Overhaul adds, torn between offering you a gloved hand as a metaphorical olive branch or simply turning around to see if you follow. He opts for the latter merely for the fact that you’re covered in dust and paint from your days’ work. Bounding after him, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your loose overalls as you try to catch up while bearing in mind to keep a short distance between the two of you. The two-block walk is brief and silent as you end up at the construction site of the clinic. Perhaps your memory of the building you never visited beforehand was skewed, but it you were certain it was much larger now. “Feel free to look around. After all, you’re paying for this.” There’s a twinge of malice that paints his invitation that isn’t lost on you, but you decide to forego the welcoming regardless. 

Passing through the threshold cautiously, you’re greeted with what looks to be a regular, two story home. The skeletal structure foreshadowed a kitchen, dining room, living space, and a hallway leading to two rooms. One staircase that lead to a basement, one that lead upstairs—it was strange to see the clinic become more of a home than anything else. “Where are you putting the clinic?” You ask meekly, careful not to touch. Just because Overhaul invited you to check out the specs, doesn’t mean he wanted your lingering fingerprints ingrained in his space. 

“Basement. I figured it would be better for the children to have majority of the space.” A pregnant pause takes over the conversation once again, leaving you to roam around the new space in appreciation. A part of you was pleased with the work the contractors did for this family, a large part even, but there was a small nagging voice in your head that was still telling you to retreat back to your own project. “Why did you do it?” 

“Do what?” A brief chuckle that is muffled by his mask dances on his lips. He’s not sure which of his theories he wants to start unraveling first. So he starts with the one he believes to be most ludicrous—the conspiracy that you or somebody you worked for was trying to take this children away, or Eri at the very least. If people on the Surface knew about her and her quirk, Kai doesn’t doubt a bounty would be on her head. But truth be told, he knew this seemed unlikely. You had never bothered to even engage with him or anyone else in his family until recently, despite having come to the Underground shortly after its establishment. 

“Rescue my daughter, for starters.” Of course he starts with the question you don’t have an answer for. To which you can only respond with the truth—your body moved on your own when you saw the panic in his eyes. Also knowing he had to watch his eight other children and ensure their safety prompted your body to act automatically. “You used your quirk to save Eri, but not yourself. Why?” Your eyes narrow slightly in both suspicion and out of confusion. It was strange that Overhaul kept demanding answers and logic and reason for things you did as a knee jerk reaction. Considering you’d only discovered your quirk just before going to the Underground, it wasn’t exactly what you would call a natural reaction. Plus, weaving through danger for someone else wasn’t as simple as just running in and out of the building as it was to jump out your bay window. Judging by his silence, it seemed he accepted that answer.  “And the contractors?”

“I just want all of our lives to go back to normal, including Dabi.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—rather just a short omission of the truth—and it wasn’t like you could tell him that you couldn’t stand living in such close proximity with him due to fear. But Overhaul had a knack for pinpointing a fib like a honeybee in search of something sweet. 

“You’re lying,” he bites. You shake your head almost violently, as if the movement will deter your mouth from telling him the truth in its entirety. There was no way you could admit the fear he instilled in your bones or the anxiety you felt standing close enough for him to touch you. Sure, you may have felt that your quirk was less than impressive but that didn’t mean you wanted him to take it away or worse, your life. Knowing that he knew about it too, while the public didn’t which was a requirement for living in the Underground, only reaffirmed your worries. “Do you fear me?” Overhaul asks, making note of the way your fingers were trembling and way your eyes constantly averted his. 

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a mere whisper, barely rising above the hammering and drilling of the construction workers. A part of you wished that your admission made you feel better—like it felt like a weight lifting off of your shoulder rather than making it feel like you were denying some greater truth—a part of you just wanted to run and hide and pretend this interaction wasn’t happening. 

It shouldn’t have hurt Kai as much as it did to hear you say it out loud, considering you were nothing but a stranger. But you were a stranger that his children were so utterly enamored with and all he wanted was to understand. Yet, the feeling of disappointment is a dull thrum in his chest, long forgotten with a wide array of other emotions and coming only second to his envy. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, though the monotone voice almost sounds insincere. 

Perhaps, his jealousy is misplaced, he thinks. His children may be drawn to you, but at least they didn’t tremble or wrack their bones with trepidation the way you do when you see him. If anything, his jealousy is replaced with empathy. Despite your clear distaste for youth, you got along swimmingly with his kids and they clearly wanted to be present with you. It must have been difficult for you to be near them, even more so considering you trembled in their father’s presence. The two of you stand in silence with you looking away pretending to soak in your surroundings of the plastered walls. Overhaul is observing your nervous ticks—the way your twitching fingers are exaggerated by the ink in your skin or the way your knee bounces impatiently along the hardwood. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, come look at my roo—oh! [ name ] is here too!” Bounding down the unfinished staircase was one of the orphans in Overhaul’s care; Shura, if you remembered correctly. 

“Just stopped by to see how the place was coming,” you offer in addition to a sheepish wave. Before you know it, Shura is grasping one of your hands with both of his while guiding you up the stairs. 

“Come see our rooms, [ name ]!” Overhaul watches with curious eyes at the way one of his sons is so overzealous to include you in their little world. The appeal makes no sense to him—you were just a stranger with skin like a Monet painting that had made little to no effort for these children outside of rescuing Eri and allowing them to shower you in their affection. 

Why did acknowledging that their enthusiasm to include you hurt Kai even more so, knowing you were afraid of him?

Trudging behind, Overhaul peers through the open doors upstairs to see each of his kids decorating their freshly painted walls. In Shura’s room, you were sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees while the little boy explained to you that he wanted his room to be decorated with narwhals. The excitement he had, and the knowledge of even knowing such a creature existed, was quite charming. “[ name ], are you gonna join us for dinner this time? Dabi says you’re always working, but daddy always makes you a plate just in case!” Your eyes glance over to Overhaul and his leisurely pose as he rests one arm on the door jamb. For a moment, your mouth open and closes repeatedly as you try to stutter out some semblance of an answer. 

“Just in case,” the doctor adds, as if to add more pressure to his son’s convenient question. The golden orbs you normally deterred from swirled with an intensity that, much to your surprise, didn’t wrack your nerves like they normally did. It was as if they were filled with remorse rather their typical bitterness, maybe sympathy even, imploring you to consider Shura’s inquiry. 

“I should go finish my work for today then so I can be home for dinner,” pushing yourself off of the freshly carpeted floor to stand. At some point while Shura was giving you the grand tour of his room, your legs had fallen asleep, causing your first step to hobble and throw you off balance and trip. 

“Careful,” Overhaul chimes, bemused at the way you flail to recover from your stumble. To your surprise, he’s pushed himself off the door jamb, crossed through the threshold of Shura’s room, and has his arms locked underneath yours to keep you steady. “Drink some water before going back to work.”  

“R-right,” you stutter out, hyper aware that his hands are touching you. He feels the way your tendons bunch together in your arms at the contact, even more so when your pupils lock into his. It untangles one more thread in his theories, one he figures he’ll push on later because it’s a theory just as farfetched as his last one. “I’ll, um, see you at dinner,” the last syllable rises in intonation as you squeak, flitting away and ignoring your numbed legs and blood burned cheeks. Meanwhile, Overhaul chuckles as he watches you scurry away, the blush painting your cheeks burning into his mind just as well. The way you moved was reminiscent of when he had reset your bones and the way you recoiled thereafter. But through thorough observation, he knew that reaction wasn’t fear this time around, no. Fear made you quiet, not nervous or jittery or force your pupils to dilate. 

This was something else entirely.

Something else entirely to the point where Chisaki Kai is unsure if he even wants to entertain the possible theory that maybe, maybe, you’re the slightest bit infatuated with him. 

“How nice of you to join us,” Dabi sneers teasingly when you set foot into the private entryway of town hall’s attached home. The makeshift family of ten is already seated at the extended dining table, an empty seat awaiting you on Dabi’s left with Overhaul on his right. Each of the children that you had come to be familiar with over the last few weeks had lit up like your presence was a treat—a strange feeling, considering you’d done the most to avoid being in the temporary residence. 

“Go wash up, we’ll wait for you,” you had never seen Chisaki Kai without his mask, let alone heard his voice so clear. The angelic lilt rivaled expert fingers rimming crystal glasses, hypnotizing you to do as he said without so much as a fight. Entering your room, you immediately discard your dirty work clothes and shower hastily, scrubbing off flecks of dried paint and dust. In seven minutes and nineteen seconds, you’re out of your en suite bathroom and shucking on leggings and a long sleeve tee before joining everyone else at the dinner table. 

To your surprise it felt quite...normal. Was this how families had dinner together? You were unsure, considering your parents had never been one to have the three of you gather together for a meal—they were always too busy working until the day they were killed nearly a decade ago. 

It surprised you how natural the flow of conversation was, even with nine children ranging from ages four to seven. Even more to your shock, Dabi was more than willing to indulge the kids in their stories. But the creme de la creme was seeing maskless Overhaul smiling and laughing and attempting to get his kids to eat their vegetables. Was this the real Overhaul? Had his notoriety preceded him so greatly that you feared him for no reason at all? Your intuition tells you no and, perhaps, to some degree it’s right. There was still a dangerous air that encapsulated Chisaki Kai, but it wasn’t one that made you instantly retreat like touching a cake pan you’d recently pulled from the oven with a bare hand. If anything, it was alluring as opposed to intimidating. 

The kids were so happy you finally joined them all at dinner. Rapid fire questions from any one or even two of them made you hesitate to answer but you did your best to keep your face even and amused. Children may not have been your favorite, but however the heck Overhaul was raising these ones, especially all nine of them, was truly wonderful. Throughout conversation, Shura and even shy little Eri had scrambled into your lap with each one of them taking a leg while the three of you ate. Initially, Kai had scolded them both, saying they were being rude to which you only shook your head and allowed them to stay, much to his surprise. 

After dinner, the children cleared the table. Those that were able of the younger ones brought stacks of dishes to Eri and Shura whom were in the kitchen washing plates and silverware—their duties as the eldest of the nine. Dabi has pardoned himself after thanking the family for the meal to hole himself up in his office. According to the leader of the Underground, the investigative team was still working around the clock to unearth who was responsible for the fires. You had found yourself in the garden of Town Hall, tablet and digital pen in one hand with a cigarette in the other. Drawing was the only leisurely activity you indulged in when not working on rebuilding Tropium. 

Typically, Dabi would join on you on these evenings with stacks of papers and a cigar between his lips as he bounced ideas off of you to figure out potential perpetrators. Needless to say, it surprised you when Overhaul enters the makeshift garden that was really just a manmade pond with lily pads and rose bushes aligning the sinkhole. “Hi,” you offer meekly, averting his gaze by keeping your own glued to your tablet screen. 

“Hi,” he returns, twisting up a shapely brow at the cigarette between your index and middle finger. For a moment, he’s torn between asking what you’re working on or if you had any ideas to who burned down both of your homes or even how the rebuilding of Tropium was coming along. But he can tell by the way the filter of the cigarette squeezes between your fingers that you’re tense, that you can sense there’s a reason for his presence and decides to forego small talk. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” his voice is small and unsure and drastically different from the Overhaul you were used to. Nonetheless, his statement catches your attention and pulls it away from the screen of your tablet. 

“I’m more afraid of what you can do,” you admit quietly, “I don’t want people knowing about my quirk. Dabi was the only one who knew and now your entire family knows and—“ you pause for second, hesitating on whether or not you should continue. But Overhaul was brave enough to tell you had what been bothering him, even if only a minuscule issue, you figure you owe him the same. “And I don’t want you to take it away.” The broken syllables leave your lips bare above a whisper, reaffirming at least one of the theories the doctor had about you. Of all the conspiracies, it made sense that this one was the most likely to explain your reactions to his presence, no matter how much he had hoped it to be some strange, magnetic attraction. 

You had bought into the whispers of the Underground that said Chisaki Kai’s life mission was to overhaul the population and remove quirks. 

Dejection fills his chest as he lets out a sigh. Maybe this was being too honest, his inner voice argues as it debates on his next words cautiously, but he feels the need to burn clean. “[ name ], what do you know about me?” 

“That you were a Yakuza leader and you think quirks are a plague that need to be eradicated.” Overhaul closes his eyes languidly, peeling them back open at a snail’s pace while the warm, golden orbs stare off into the never-ending tunnels of the Underground. 

“I became the leader of the Shie Hassaikai when I married my wife at twenty-three and took over for her ill father. It was a quirk marriage, but a happy one, nonetheless. At twenty five, my wife had Eri and while most children’s genetic code didn’t activate the gene for a quirk until a few years later, Eri was born with her quirk activated,” you listen deeply, soaking in every word leaving Overhaul’s maskless lips. His eyes drop down to stare at his gloved hands before burying his face in them for a moment to swallow his guilt quietly. “Eri can rewind time on living things and the first person she used it on—“

“—was her mother,” your voice barely vibrated past your lips as you made the connection. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill the contents of your gut not out of disgust, but rather an overwhelming surge of sorrow. 

“I lost my wife when I was twenty-five. The rate that she was being rewound at was too much for her body to handle and I had to overhaul my own daughter at birth just to get her quirk to deactivate so she didn’t destroy everyone she touched,” had Chisaki Kai not come to terms with the truth a long time ago, he would have shed at least a single tear recounting these memories he had buried. Either that, or almost hurled recalling the way his wife’s body had imploded until chunks of skin and muscle tissue and blood ended up spewing all over his chest and face. There was a reason he constantly wore gloves and a mask—the smell of cooking carcass and burning meat never left him and the exaggerated mask stuffed with lavender was the only scent that eased him. “I was angry at the world for a long time.”

“I am so sorry, Over—“

“Kai,” he interrupts, “or Chisaki, at the very least. I don’t go by that name anymore.” After a bout of silence, Chisaki continues further. Eri never grew up with a mother or siblings and after things had gone south on the surface, he wanted to raise Eri in a place where people didn’t know the truth about her or the mother she never had the opportunity to meet. So he fled to the Underground with Dabi; he started helping tend to the ill and taking in quirkless children who had lost their parents on the Surface to Heroes. 

In a moment of vulnerability, you felt the need to offer the olive branch and share your own story with this man after he bared his soul to you. And so, you tell him about the accident. How, while in pursuit of a villain, the small mom and pop diner that your parents frequented on Friday afternoons was accidentally set on fire by Endeavor and trapped and killed of the patrons inside. You were in your first year of high school at the time—fourteen and preparing for university until you realized you would need to work full time in order to continue paying the bills until the settlement from Endeavor came. University was down the drain. It took years for the dividends to be decided and the lawyer managed to get you a considerably high amount thanks to emotional damages, but riches and wealth would never quell the resentment you held towards the then number two pro Hero for being so reckless. That was nine years ago. Somewhere along the way, you’d met Dabi and he granted you a home and space to continue to hone the craft of tattoo artistry that you had picked up from working part time in a parlor, as recompense for his father killing yours. Though, you’d left that last little tidbit out, unsure if Kai knew of Dabi’s lineage. “I’ve been in the Underground for the last three years, give or take.”

You had always been rather indifferent to the concept of heroism until that day. Even more so when you had met Dabi—a man who was wanted and was supposed to be a villain. Yet he extended warmth and welcoming to you, offering you refuge in a new city he had created for the exiled and wandering. 

The grey areas only widen with this conversation with Chisaki Kai. A notorious man, an infamous man, known for causing utter chaos on the Surface both as the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and as a super villain, was sitting across from you and sharing the most intimate moments of his life. 

Maybe the concept of heroism was skewed to begin with, you think to yourself as you put out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. Maybe Dabi and Overhaul weren’t the real villains—only designed that way because of the way some omniscient creature in the stars that you couldn’t see. 

“I remember when you first opened Tropium,” Chisaki hums bemusedly, “the children said you looked like a coloring book.” The only fitting response you have is laughter. Neither of you thought laughter would be something the two of you would indulge in together. But the way your cheeks cinch together at the corner of your eyes or the tufts of air leaving your nostrils in a short snort and the somehow smooth staccato of your chuckle sounds like holiday bells after the first snowfall. It was a peace that Chisaki Kai hadn’t known for some time now. It was a peace he didn’t know he needed, and it makes him wish that his magnetic attraction theory had some truth to it. “Your secret is safe with me,” he says finally after the laughter had died off. 

“Thank you, Chisaki,” 

 You started coming home for dinner every night, figuring the two contractors didn’t need you there to micromanage them, until you stopped dropping into the worksite all together. With a full house, Dabi was out more frequently, preferring to be in the field to investigate the fires as much as he could. This left you with Chisaki and the kids more often than not. On occasion, you would run to the local market with Eri and Shura or had even done arts and crafts with some of the younger ones. As a sort of inside joke, you had bought each of the nine coloring books. 

Currently, the kids were playing volleyball in the makeshift garden while you and Chisaki supervised. It was no longer tense between the two of you, a sort of bond forming since that one night. You should have seen the inevitable question coming. Though you more so imagined it would come from Dabi in the form of some snide comment with sexual implications regarding how close you and Overhaul had become. Never did you anticipate his oldest son asking, “[ name ], are you going to be adopting us? Are you going to be our new mom?” 

“I-I—“ you were a deer in headlights and the question was a freight truck gunning in at ninety. Looking over at Chisaki for help, who seemed almost unwilling or at the very least unsure on how to, you shake your head before staring back at Shura’s big blue eyes. These children had begun carving a special place in your heart due to how they came to be in Chisaki’s care, sure, but you still had your reservations about kids in general. Not that the doctor blamed you—maternal instincts didn’t necessarily apply to every female. “I-I don’t wanna take you away from daddy, he works so hard to take care of you all and he does such a good job,” for a second, Shura’s expression becomes crestfallen. 

“But we all like having you around, [ name ],”

“I’m not going anywhere, buddy, I promise,” the seven-year-old boy promptly wraps his arms around your neck, squeezing tightly as if you were going to dissipate into the air in front of his very eyes. Without hesitation, you hug back briefly before telling him his siblings were waiting for him to start the next set of volleyball. “Was that okay?” You ask quietly, looking over to the doctor. From underneath his mask, you can see the twists of pain coloring the dusty gold hues of his irises and the way his jaw tenses. When he remains quiet, you anxiously reach for an e-cigarette—a fruity one that wouldn’t alert the kids or burn Chisaki’s nostrils from the scent—and pull the tip to your lips. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to Shura, you think as you exhale a large cloud of smoke. 

But Overhaul’s stomach is twisting and churning, and he crosses his legs over the knee to squeeze his legs together tightly. He’s thankful for the black cloth mask that covers majority of his facial features as he bites his lip and his nostrils flair while he tries to control his breathing. Think of anything else, his mind snarls. Think of the days in the Shie Hassaikai, think of the children, think of literally anything but the way you called him “daddy” and how the blood rushed from his brain and straight to his dick at an alarming rate. It was so innocent—there was no reason Kai should even be thinking of it in any other way—but primal instincts were taking over, twisting into a delusion in his brain into hearing you repeatedly call him daddy while he fucked you from behind. 

“Can you watch the kids?” Chisaki chokes out, standing up abruptly and fleeing inside the temporary home. He doesn’t even have the chance to hear you ask if he’s alright as he’s rushing upstairs to his en suite bathroom. Entering his room, he rips off every shred of fabric covering his body before turning on the shower to the coldest temperature he could tolerate. But there wasn’t enough cold water in the Underground or gruesome thoughts of his wife’s sudden death that could stave off the erection he was currently sporting. “Fuck!” He snarls out viciously, mind running rampant with salacious daydreams. Out of sheer need, Overhaul wraps one hand around his cock, the other bracing himself on the shower wall while the cold water runs down his spine. 

Chisaki Kai is livid—raging over the fact that he is reduced to such actions over a simple word that he hears multiple times on a daily basis. It wasn’t that he was abhorrent at the thought of masturbation in the slightest—he was a human with natural human needs, after all—but this desperation that filled his gut and fueled his hard on was less than desirable. But he can’t stop the aching he feels to hold onto that blip of memory of you calling him daddy. He savors it like the first bite of a meal and indulges it in the same way he’s trying to coerce his own orgasm. 

Throaty groans and grumbles wrack in Overhaul’s throat as he fists his angry, weeping cock, twisting and turning it as he prays for reprieve. It’s not enough; it’s not your mouth or any other oriface he would rather be shoving into, but the friction rubbing against his veins would have to be enough. He’s far from gracious at this point. Cupping and massaging his balls with one hand while thrusting into his enclosed other at ferocious speeds was all in the name of merely getting off. “Fuck,” he hisses out once again as he feels the very start of his orgasm. As much as his natural instinct is just telling him to sit back and enjoy the ride, his common sense tells him otherwise, tells him that he’s filthy for doing this and he doesn’t deserve to indulge in these thoughts. 

But he needs that extra push to satiate his natural instinct. 

Succumbing to his deeper, carnal desires, his imagination wanders back to you. With golden eyes screwed shut, he pretends it’s you he thrusting into, that it’s you stringing together languid profanities between your lips; that it’s you begging for daddy to fuck you harder. 

That it’s you begging daddy to fill you up and make you into a mother. 

“Oh, shit,” Chisaki is gasping for breath as he cums on the shower walls—the last thought to flood his mind serving to break the dam. He licks his lips and swallows hard, his skin becoming dry despite standing in the cold shower. After his ragged, uneven breathing returns to some semblance of normal, he peels his heavy lids open and stares at the fluid coating the shower wall. For a moment, shame washes over him because he feels pathetic and small. But the moment is brief before it was replaced with a dull burn of hunger that may never be quelled. 

Pathetic, Kai thinks again as he scrubs his body clean, before exiting the arctic shower. Never before had he been in such a state, even at the ripe age of thirty-two, to masturbate to the mere thought of another person. Perhaps he was that touch-starved, all things considered. 

He can’t bring himself to gaze at his reflection as he gets dressed. Adorning grey joggers and a red zip up hoodie, in addition to his usual mask and gloves, he maneuvers his way back to the makeshift garden where the children are still playing with together. But rather than you sitting alone at the patio table as you were, Dabi had joined you in the seat directly across from you. 

Both of you were sporting matching cigarettes in your respective hands with matching distressed looks on your faces. 

“We’ve been waiting for you,” you say in an almost indifferent tone, a departure from the way Kai had heard you in his mind seconds ago. It was a sentence typically accompanied with some sass, but your eyes were devoid of emotion at the moment. Cautiously, Chisaki took a seat beside you at the patio table, propping an elbow on the armrest closest to you before resting his temple on the same closed fist he had just used to beat himself off. You pay it no mind, how close he is to you, but rather put out your cigarette on the ashtray on the table as a courtesy to him. “Dabi,” your tone is thoughtful as you say your best friend’s name, making a hand gesture that signifies him to speak. 

The leader of the Underground opens the manilla folder that was harboring the photos of both of your burnt down homes as well as the two other destroyed businesses. “It’s been a challenging investigation, but after eyewitness accounts and working with local law enforcement from the Surface, I’m pretty sure my bastard brother was behind this shit,” Dabi grits out. 

“Brother?” Kai asks, confirming your suspicions of him being unaware of Dabi’s genealogy and family tree. To this, the leader pulls out a mug shot of Todoroki Shouto. The face wasn’t entirely familiar to Kai, save for the small resemblances to Dabi. Same jaw shape, same blue eye with the same dead look. 

“Why us?” You ask, flipping the photo over. While it had been awhile since you had resided let alone visited the Surface, you knew that there was some rumors in the air about the start of a war, but what possible reason did Todoroki have for going after the Underground when everyone kept to themselves? For Chisaki, who ran a free clinic, and his children? What about you—why go after you?

Outside of Dabi, hadn’t the Todoroki family tortured you enough?

The city leader takes a deep breath, exhaling smoke as he extinguishes the dead cigarette on the ashtray. According to the patchwork man, Todoroki had confessed that he was selected for a covert mission from the Hero Association. The primary goal was to eradicate any and all quirk wielders within the Underground so they didn’t procreate further, so no overpowered quirks would mutate in the next generation of Underground born children. Overhaul lets out a scoff at the explanation—leave it to the Heroes to act so recklessly and selfishly. 

If quirk mutation was the concern, only him and Eri would have been targeted, maybe Dabi as well. Probably Dabi as well. But they burned down Tropium Tattoos, the home of you whom had the legally registered quirk Life Canvas up on the Surface. They burned down a farm whose owner had a quirk that could manipulate light and sunshine—whose farm fed the patrons of the Underground. They burned down the house of the guy who had a weird magnet quirk. It sounds more useless than he actually is—Dabi ended up capitalizing on his manipulation of magnets to create magnetic elevators up to the surface for supply runs and other necessities. 

This was about population control. 

It was a form of genocide that Overhaul himself was all too familiar with. 

“Well that’s fucked,” you sneer, reaching for one more cigarette, “the fuck is wrong with your family, dude, and why are they all trying to kill me and my family?” Chisaki turns his head in curiosity, no longer resting on his knuckles. The only time you had brought up your family, around him at least, was when Endeavor killed your parents—

Oh. 

He pretends he doesn’t feel disappointment when he realizes you weren’t implying he and the children were your family. 

“Why the hell do you think I left, [ name ]?” Chisaki almost feels as if he shouldn’t be present for this conversation; like it was meant to be private between the two of you. But he can’t bring himself to leave your side, not with the way anger is crinkling in the form of crow’s feet at the corner of your eyes. Dabi excuses himself after a long bout of silence, leaving you to stew in your bitterness while Overhaul directs the kids to wash up for dinner. You don’t realize all nine of them had left the garden until the doctor is standing over you, despite the small wisps of smoke billowing from your cigarette with a hand extended towards you to pull you from the patio chair. You’re sure to extinguish the stick, knowing how the smell often offended him before taking it. 

“Why don’t you go rest inside for a minute and wash up while I make dinner?” He offers quietly as he pulls you to your feet. The entire time, Chisaki maintains eye contact, his golden orbs unwilling to break their trance with your form. But thanks to the distress and the rapid pace that your brain is moving, you aren’t even aware of your surroundings or the way Chisaki is just standing in front of you until you’re running into his broad chest. Instinctually, you recoil away from him. Not out of disgust or fear like before, but rather respect, knowing how he is about touch and physical contact. 

“Sorry—“ his arms are nestling at your waist to keep you in close proximity and you’re suddenly reminded of the time your legs fell asleep at the orphanage and you had stumbled trying to walk. Chisaki had been there then too, holding you steady much like he was now. There was something drastically different to the scenario now compared to back then. The doctor didn’t shy away from the contact anymore, didn’t draw his hands back like he touched a freshly stoked lump of coal or break out into itchy hives. If anything, his gloved hands lingered just a little bit longer—too long even for Chisaki—before gingerly patting your head and retreating inside the home. 

And maybe if you weren’t trying to process the fact that the Surface was attempting to start a war with the Underground, you would have dwelled more on the warmth and security coming from Kai. The poise he held coupled with the fire and desire in his eye would have been enough to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

Dabi never came back that night. Rather than leaving his head seat at the dining table empty, Chisaki sat to your left with his daughter filling his space temporarily. You sat directly across from Eri, the girl who was once too timid to thank you now smiled brightly every time you looked at her. Other than your best friend’s absence, dinner was relatively average. Conversation went on as normal, sharing laughter and smiles between all of you—it was a nice delusion that for a moment, you were all a complete family and you weren’t so enrapt with the heartbreak of knowing these ten humans were targets to the surface. 

The children cleared the table as they always did, but rather than having the two oldest do the dishes, you offered to clean up instead. “Why don’t you kids gather up in the living room and have daddy put on a movie for you?” Clearly excited from the reprieve of duty, the orphans all head off, touting something along the lines of Frozen versus Tangled. But your back is already turned away from the family, getting started on putting away leftovers and scraping away scraps on plates and entirely missing the way Kai’s eyes drain from gold to a murky mustard. It misses the way his jaw clenches tightly as he settles the debate for his children, turning on Tangled—the clearly more superior film—before he returns to the kitchen. 

The sleeves of your ragline tee are pushed above your elbows as you hum an unknown hymn, unaware of Kai stepping cautiously toward you. Despite having just eaten, the doctor is filled with a renewed hunger entirely as his grip finds limp purchase on your hips much like they had before dinner. “You know, I think we need to have a talk about you calling me ‘daddy’ in front of the children,” he murmurs hotly against the shell of your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Your blood is torn between running cold from the predatory drawl in his words and boiling from the sudden close contact. 

“I-I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kai licks his lips before running his teeth behind your ear and down your neck, suckling on the flesh as he mumbles a response. 

“Do you want to?” You contemplate his question in full, though it proves to be a challenge with the way he’s pressing warm, open mouth kisses to your neck and shoulder and the way his hands are kneading at your hips. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?” He asks again, his voice a low grumble yet somehow is louder than thunder as it isn’t hidden behind a mask. Had this been months ago when he had asked you an identical question when you were perusing the reconstruction of the orphanage, you would have said yes again. But this wasn’t fear—fear wasn’t a word you associated with Chisaki Kai anymore. 

Warmth. Strength. Dedication. Resolve. 

Love. 

Those were the words you associated with him now. 

“No,” you finally respond, shutting off the water before turning to face him. It was a rare, momentous occasion when you got to gaze upon his bare face outside of having meals together. His golden eyes swirl with elation, even more so as your painted fingers brush stray locks that fallen just over his brows. Despite a rather simple appearance, especially in comparison to yours, there’s something elegantly charming about Chisaki Kai that had never gotten the full appreciation he deserved. 

Tentatively, you nudge him closer to you from the back of his neck until your lips are pressed against his. For you, it’s an experiment just to feel him in such a manner. For Kai, it’s torture in every sense of the word because it’s a tease after all of the salacious thoughts that have marred his imagination. Taking a leap of faith, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body flush against his because right now there isn’t enough contact in the world that would satisfy him. 

The once delicate, experimental kiss becomes hungrier at his hand as he’s exploring your mouth with tongue, groaning as he does so. The scent of smoke and fresh cotton wafts into his nostrils between his sharp intakes of breath as he refuses to break contact. It’s as if he’s trying to commit the moment to memory, to burn it into his brain. 

As if this was never going to happen ever again. 

“Kai,” you whimper out his name, his true name, between pants of breathlessness for the first time. Just as gingerly as before, your fingers are cradling the man before you by the temples. You’re gazing at him fully, unabashedly, as you run a thumb just below his distinct lower lashes. Chisaki’s head dips a bit further into your brief touch before you skip away from him. 

“Wait, where do you think you’re going?”

“Come on, let’s go watch the movie with the kids,” you chime, holding a hand out to him as if he didn’t just have you all but pinned to the kitchen sink. 

“I was serious when I said we needed to have a talk.” Despite his verbal protest, he takes your hand in his, trailing behind as you saunter off towards the living room where the children are fully invested in the film. Plopping down on an empty space on the couch, you bring Kai with you until he’s nearly resting on top of you. For a moment, he releases your hand, opting to wrap an arm around you to pull you closer. “Back to avoiding me, angel?” The doctor grumbles into your ear, low enough so as not to alert the little ones. 

“Figured it would be better to not risk being interrupted,” you whisper back, smirk twisting your lips. Chisaki’s licks his own dry plains, tugging you even closer so that you’re sitting on one of his thighs instead. That predatory miasma that surrounds him on a day to day basis is seeping out of him tenfold, but intimidation when it came to Kai was now a foreign concept to you. It brought back that same seductively dangerous feeling you’d felt the first time you had dinner with the family or, thinking back further, to when you went to scope out the renovations. A part of you wonders if that fear you once had was displaced as soon as you knew he was going to keep your quirk a secret. Displaced with an attraction to him that was easily confused with fear. 

A part of you wonders if you ever really did fear him at all. 

Maybe you didn’t. 

Your mindless thoughts wander to anything other than the screen, casually leaning back so that your head settled on Kai’s clavicle. The doctor looks down at you with a curiosity that is replaced with a warmth that temporarily quelled his lust. As much as he had been fighting his day dreams of fucking you, having you in his arms surrounded by his kids stoked a different fire inside him. 

He didn’t want this domestic moment to end. 

He hopes that desire translates into the simple gesture of his lips pressing into your hair. 

Chisaki Kai was finally caving into his wants and being honest with himself. He doesn’t want this makeshift family to go back to normal when you finally returned to Tropium or when his family returns to the Underground clinic. There isn’t a single cell in his body that believes having you in his lap and curled into his chest feels anything other than right. He’s overwhelmed with the idea, the fantasy, of you moving in and being with the family. Your family—in the collective sense—with Kai by your side with your nine orphans. 

During the lantern scene of the film, he presses another kiss where the roots of your hair meet your forehead, lips lingering a little longer than normal. In response, you look up at him curiously to find his muted golden eyes staring right at you. There was a plethora of different things that Chisaki wanted to say to you, especially with the way you look so heavenly in his arms. But he settles with the murmur of, “I don’t want things to go back to normal.” 

“Neither do I,” you whisper, gracefully accepting the way Kai’s lips mould over yours almost lovingly. In a sense, it’s your way of finally admitting to yourself the feelings that worked and wriggled their way into your chest. The thought of returning to your lonely little two-bedroom apartment by yourself just seemed daunting now, despite the initial rush to get to work on the remodel. No more waking up to bright eyes at the table for breakfast or coloring with the kids; no more having Kai cook a delectable meal or having him accompany you in the garden for a smoke. It broke your heart just thinking about all you would be missing out on when life returned to somewhat normal, war aside. 

The doctor sucks gingerly on your lower lip, nipping slightly with his canines as his tongue wholeheartedly dances with yours. The kiss is full of longing and desire and it made his brain go fuzzy with strange thoughts. A part of him can’t remember ever feeling this recurring surge of wanton lust and infatuation when Kai would kiss his wife and, in regular circumstances, he would have felt guilt over it. But this warm, wet entanglement of your tongues is more loving than he was accustomed to and it excited him. Than you were even accustomed to. 

“So stay with me, sweetheart,” the nickname he’s given you sounds almost patronizing. But the admiration that seems to be laced in with it sends a shiver down your spine and leaves the hairs on your arms standing at full attention as the film comes to an end. “Time for bed, children. We’ll be by in a little bit to check on you,” Chisaki calls out to his protesting kids, though making no motion to move from his planted position on the sofa. When he’s certain that all nine of them are out of earshot, he adjusts you in his lap so that both of your legs are draped over his thighs. You call out his name, pulling him from his thoughts that take him far away from the present. 

“You said you wanted to talk,” you remind him. A part of you is afraid to start conversation because you aren’t sure what direction he wants to take this. Chisaki could have an entirely different meaning of returning to normal than you, but for you...

You didn’t want to wake up every morning without him being nearby. In the rawest form, that was the only way you could piece it together into a coherent thought. But even more than that, you felt as if there was so much more you wanted to see from Chisaki Kai. He was becoming more open with touch, no longer breaking out into hives when he touched others and even going so far as to hold you, albeit very languidly as he was now. Another part of you wanted to know if he would be beside you when it came to the impending war with the Surface. 

Mostly, you just wanted to know if he wanted to be by your side too, even if logic wanted to tell you this was a bad idea. 

“Will you stay? With me?” Kai implores quietly. His eyes are locked with yours, the gold shining brighter than ever. 

“You say this after I renovate our homes?” A short, lighthearted scoff leaves his lung in lieu of laughter at your attempt of a joke. Because, despite him echoing your own deeper, innermost thoughts, a part of you refused to believe this was reality. As if reality was actually playing a prank on you. 

Of course he had thought of that little fact. It was the longing desire he felt in his bones to have your presence that he hadn’t taken into account, but that need burning at the pit of his stomach had outweighed any semblance of logic that urged him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“The kids will grow up eventually and need their own space away from the orphanage. We could always save it for them.”

Answers you were expecting from Chisaki Kai: not that. 

Had he invested that much into the idea? To the point where he planned on you still being a part of the orphan’s lives until they were adults?

“‘We’?” You ask. “And what if “we” don’t work, have you considered that?”

“No,” Kai’s voice is clear and calm as ever, exuding the very confidence that once made you tremble, “I want you in every sense of the word. I’ve already said my vows and had my shot at forever. I want that sort of permanence with you and I know that some part of you wants me too.” At a loss for words, you opt to brush the backs of your nails along his cheeks endearingly, trailing them down until your hands find purchase around his neck to bring him close enough that you can feel his lashes tickle your cheekbones. The silence between the two of you was deafening and damning, yet welcoming as it’s broken with him pressing his lips fully against yours. 

For a moment, it feels as if the hunger stirring within his gut is satiated—satisfied with the even the tender, loving gesture of pulling you closer still until you’re straddling his lap. As if you were trying to fuse your bodies together because there was no such thing as too much physical contact right now. Kai encircles your waist with his arms, hoisting you up as he motions to stand and causing you to wrap your legs around his midsection. You don’t ask where you’re going; partially because your tongue is too busy just indulging in a private dance with his, partially because it doesn’t matter where he takes you. You’d go with him anywhere, no questions asked. 

It’s a challenge and a half maneuvering up the stairs with you anchored around him so tightly—even more so that with every step he took ended up grinding your pelvis along his ever-growing erection. Kai felt liberated this time around, shamelessly rubbing against you this time rather than scurrying off for a cold shower and a five-minute session with his hand. Your eyes open as he unceremoniously tosses you onto the plush blanket of your borrowed bed. Immediately, you’re greeted with the sight of Chisaki Kai hastily shredding off his tee shirt and lounge pants, leaving the doctor in strained boxer briefs. 

Briefly, you’re blown away by the sheer beauty of him—like a statue of Adonis come to fruition before your eyes. Even with the uncomfortable twinge in his golden orbs from your unnerving gaze. It was different, to say the least, to have you gawking at him with such adoration when he felt he was the only one doing so. “C’mere,” your voice comes out as a near broken whimper, a call to which Kai heeds graciously. The bed dips as he kneels at the edge, crawling closer until he’s hovering above you. Gingerly, your fingers trace over the smooth skin of his cheeks, tracing down his lips and neck until they ghost over his collarbones. 

“Sweetheart,” Kai groans out, snatching your hand in his as it continues to trail further down his bare skin. “As much as I want to bask in the romance of all of this, you called me ‘daddy’ earlier, and I think it’s time you suffer the consequences.”

“Yeah?” You sneer sardonically, pushing into your elbows until you’re both touching nose to nose. “Like it when I call you that?” His breath is hot as it fans over your features, the wanton lust tangled within the golden hues of his irises becoming overwhelmed with feral desire. Kai’s hand that isn’t supporting him over you grips tightly at your baggy tee, pulling harshly to tear at the fabric keeping your bare body from him. For a moment, his breath becomes caged in his chest upon seeing your semi-nude form for the first time. But the moment is flitting as he’s reminded of his aching, hard cock twitching underneath his undergarments. 

“Hands and knees, baby,” the slow, torturous movement you give in reply grates at Kai’s nerves, prompting a resounding smack to the ass of your joggers the moment your bottom is visible to him. “Daddy’s already impatient, dear,”

“And what’s Daddy going to do about that?” 

Similar to the treatment he gave your shirt earlier, Kai dug his fingers into the waistband of your joggers. Though he did not have nearly as much luck tearing off the thicker material, the gruff motion is enough to expose you, leaving your bare, pulsing core in plain sight while the cloth gathered at your knees. His chest presses against your back, his skin searing hotter than hellfire, as he places languid kisses along your shoulder. “I promise, I’ll spoil you with attention later. But right now, I need you,” his voice is something reminiscent of begging, only amplified by his suddenly bare cock dancing along your slit and smearing pre-cum along it before cautiously slipping the head in. 

Throaty groans leave both of your lungs simultaneously. Kai swears up and down that this was heaven manifested into reality. Part of him thinks this is all a dream, the way your walls are squeezing him to tightly as he pushes in centimeter by centimeter. “K-Kai,” you whimper. The calling of his name awakens something gutturally primal within him. 

“Uh uh,” the doctor tuts, ceasing his movements. “What’s my name, baby?” In lieu of a response, only pants of shortened breath escape your slackened jaw. There was no way Chisaki Kai was human, you decided. Not with the way his words sent every cell in your body into overdrive or the way his fat girth stretched you so deliciously without even entirely plunging his engorged cock. Not with how, despite his notoriety once proceeding him, he was often blatantly honest with you and certainly not with how utterly enamored he was with you and vice versa. “Say my name, baby, and I’ll give you a reward,”

“D-daddy, please,” you whisper in between breaths. Abiding by his word, Kai works his thick length into you, albeit still slowly, until your bones presses into his pubis and his whole cock carefully bottoms out inside you. His right hand trails up your tummy and dances along the skin of your sternum until his fingers encase your throat gingerly. Keeping still within you, the doctor tugs at your throat until you’re only resting on your spread knees as his lips ghost along the outer shell of your ear while he gives slow, deep, steady thrusts.  

“You like having daddy’s fat fucking cock in you, angel? Feel so fucking good around me, yes you do,”

A real poet, Kai was. 

Turning your head to face him, your fingers lace themselves in his messy locks and pull his lips to yours in a kiss that is entirely devoid of lust. He can bring the heat all he wants—it was your mission to make sure he understood that you wanted him in more than just sex. Even if the slow torturous withdrawing of his cock was absolutely divine. 

And he felt it too. Even with his hand delicately cupping your throat or the way his pelvis greets your plump ass with every thrust or the way your wet walls clench on him as if trying to expel his cock from inside of you. Kai can feel it in the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms or in the tufts of breath that leaves your nostrils because he leaves you absolutely breathless. He feels the love, and he wants to bask in it. 

Now that he’d quelled his hunger slightly, Chisaki pulls away from your endearing lip lock while simultaneously withdrawing his length from you. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss before Kai turns you over, pressing your back against the mattress and sliding home once again. The passion and intimacy he feels is overwhelming, boiling his skin through every pore as he bears weight on one arm while the other caresses your cheek. “I meant it, you know,” the murmur dances like air along your own lips, warm breath inviting. “I want you in every possible way. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, experience every season that doesn’t pass for us in the Underground with you.” 

“Kai...” in return, you seal you mouth along his, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer and coaxing him to move. Slow and steady, he withdraws himself from within you before snapping his hips once again until he’s fully sheathed. Each thrust feels like thunder. “M-more,” you choke out, breaking apart your kiss momentarily to beg. His focus shifts down to where you’re connected—where each vein of his throbbing erection greets and becomes acclimated for every crevice within your cavern. Angling his hips along with your own with the assistance of his hand, he manages to welcome that spongy weakness that makes your knees buckle and regurgitate a scream in response. 

“Right there, princess?”

“P-please!” The hand under the small of your back moves to hook around your knee, it’s twin mimicking the gesture and leaving you entirely at the mercy of Overhaul whose mission at the moment is to rearrange your insides in an entirely different sense. Pinning your knees to the bed, Kai is at the perfect angle to ram into your g-spot over and over at a rapid, even pace until you’re clenching around him deliciously, silently coercing his orgasm. “Oh my fucking god,”

“Mm, you’re so tight, baby. Ya gonna cum? Gonna cum nice and hard for me? Cum for daddy,” his words are almost enough—almost. And it was as if he knew the filthy, slopping sound of his cock reaming you wasn’t enough. Though whether enough for you or him remained a mystery, his thrusts are becoming erratic as he’s panting and grunting an unabashedly as he chases his release and oxygen. “I love you,” Kai’s voice is broken, “love you so much, just wanna fill you up over and over until your body only knows the taste of me.” And you aren’t sure if it’s his nasty, vile words or the way he is utterly knocking away at your g-spot that is causing you to convulse around him—that brings you over the final hurdle and over the dam. Screams rip past your lungs as your back arches as much as it can from it’s confines while your fingers twitch out of necessity to grip something—anything. 

You’re granted no reprieve in that regard, but it matters not with the way Kai is still smacking his hips into yours, dragging out your orgasm even longer while in pursuit for his own. There is no amount of physical contact in this moment that is enough for him, even as he slats his lips over yours and slides his tongue inside your mouth to greet yours. Hips beginning to stutter, Kai is fighting every fiber in his soul—torn between the dichotomy of wanting to cum and stave off his orgasm because he wants to feel the welcoming, convulsing walls of your pussy forever. And though you’d already came at least once, the pressure was building again rapidly from the stimulation of the uneven rhythm of Kai’s hips. Part of you is thankful his tongue is hungrily dancing with yours to keep your screams muted so as not to wake the children down the hall. But the rumbling in his chest from his own throaty groans become overwhelming, forcing him to break away to and let his grunts and slew of curses fly from his mouth freely. 

“I love you, Kai,” the moans are just as bad coming from you, but those four words coming from your lips are what do the aforementioned man in. And he can tell there is no lie dripping from a silver tongue here—you mean every ounce of these four little words. For everything that is Chisaki Kai—the former Yakuza leader, the former villain, the doctor, the father—you loved the man before you. 

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he wails, the rhythm of his cock head tamping against your womb matching the pacing of his broken speech, “daddy’s gonna cum so fucking deep in you, gonna make you mine forever, angel.” Another hissed out string of profanities pass through as his dick twitches almost violently, shooting out ropes of seed and painting your walls white. You can tell he meant what he said, even in his lustful spew, by the way he leaves his softening erection inside of your spasming cunt and sealing his emission inside until he was almost certain his claim held permanence. 

“I meant it too,” you mumble into Kai’s sweaty neck as he collapses on top of you. Though he’s boneless at the moment, having spent all of his energy, you feel the breath of his questioning grunt beside your ear before his face is attempting to look at you while half buried in your pillow. Gingerly, he removes his now flaccid member from you, adjusting himself so that his form molds around you and wraps his arm securely around your stomach. 

“You know,” Kai starts off slowly. The rich timber of his voice is thick with exhaust but is warm and welcoming all the same. “I was jealous before.”

“Jealous? Of what?” 

“My children love you—a woman who was nothing but a stranger who doesn’t even like kids. They warmed up to you so easily, much easier than they did with me,” there’s a brief pause between his statements, causing you to adjust under his grasp until you’re touching nose to nose with the doctor. His eyes are closed for a moment, his long and feathery lashes greeting the tops of his delicate cheekbones. “So I tried to understand. Tried to figure just why they gravitated towards you.”

“And what did you find?” Peeling back his eyelids, Kai’s rich amber eyes bore into your own. Irises swirling with admiration before the view is flooded with a sudden closeness and the press of his plush lips against yours in the most loving fashion.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to answer. 

He had found determination and independence, qualities of a strong woman that his daughters looked up to. Free and proud and brave, he thinks, are the reasons his sons admired you. But there’s something more. There’s a love and warmth that you bring to the family, yet a sternness that doesn’t allow them to run rampant (not that they would under Overhaul’s upbringings) that spoke so motherly to each of his nine children. And somewhere along the way for the last six months that the Clinic had been under remodel, Kai found himself gravitating to all of those exact qualities in you, the envy transforming into an admiration of his own. It was an error in his initial magnetic attraction conspiracy theory; he thought that your fear had changed to attraction when it was his all along. 

But Kai’s not always the greatest with words, and the thought of spilling his deepest thoughts of you seems a daunting task that he’d rather replace with kissing you instead. Considering you asked a question, however, he did feel the need to respond with something—anything. 

“I found you.”

 “Honey, I can still help, you know,” you whine for the umpteenth time, folding your arms over your chest as you stand in the mayoral office of Dabi with your partner. It’s been a year since Todoroki Shouto had burned down Tropium Tattoos and the Underground Clinic and tonight was finally the night that the Underground had planned on mobilizing their forces. It had taken a full year of investigating, planning, building alliances with those on the Surface, and patience for the citizens to finally strike back. 

Enough was enough. 

All of you had been exiled at one point or another, but now the Surface was trying to exterminate all of you. 

“Angel, no,” Kai chides sternly, igniting the twitch on the leader’s face. Granted it had been six months since you and Kai had first declared this little relationship of yours and, as your best friend, Dabi was still slightly hesitant on the idea. Not that his opinion had much weight considering—

“Kai, I am only three months along. I can still fight!”

“Hell no,”

“Absolutely not,” both men snark simultaneously. Best friend or not, personal opinion aside, there was no way in the ninth circle of hell that Dabi was going to let you go to war while you were pregnant. And with Kai being the father, the chances of you getting your way in this moment with him were even slimmer. The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his black cloth mask with his thumb and middle finger before letting out an annoyed rift of air. “Dabi, I’m gonna take [ name ] home before we go over invasion plans. Do you mind?” 

“Nah,” the leader waves his purple and nude hands in dismissal, “besides, we should wait for Hawks to get here before we start all that.” With that, Kai grabs your wrist with his gloved hand and drags you away from the office. He knows you want to fight, and he knows you want to protect your family—all eleven with himself and the embryo included. But as a father with another—biological—one on the way, Chisaki Kai just can’t bring himself to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. 

“Sweetheart,” he calls out, stopping just outside of the currently closed Tropium. The grey and white building looked crisp and clean and everything you wanted it to be but you often found yourself closing up shop early and coming in late to spend more time with your nine children at home. At the very least, you were grateful that your parlor was only a block or two away from the clinic. “I need you here where you can keep our children safe in case anyone slips through the cracks.” Even with his mask on, you can tell that Kai is trembling ever so slightly. The thought of someone making their way into his home and hurting his kids, hurting you, was enough to unleash the beast within. 

“I know,” you respond quietly. Using his grip on you to your advantage, you pull the doctor towards you until he’s towering over you and looking down directly into your eyes. “But you know me, always ready to jump headfirst into the fire,” his amber eyes soften, thinking back to a year ago when you had saved Eri from the burning clinic. To think that a year later, you would be living with him and carrying his child and occupying nearly every cell in his brain. 

“It’s your turn to watch the kids,” he jokes pulling down his mask below his chin to slat his lips over yours lovingly. It’s only half a joke—he knows better than anyone you would do anything to protect them. He’s known that since day one. 

“You better come back to us,” your demand is quiet and breathless and laced more with concern than it is with threat. The thought of Kai dying while on the Surface has plagued you for the last six months, even more so when you found out you were pregnant. He knew it too, knew how much worry and panic had disturbed your sleep when the realization that war was an option had settled in. Despite the knowledge that he carried about different afflictions and ailments; Kai had been at a loss for how to quell your anxiety. He hopes that circumstances aside, him reaching into the right-side pocket of his heavy, army green coat and pulling out the small black velvet box is the correct move. Gingerly holding up said box until it’s in your line of sight, he takes a step back before peeling back the lid to showcase a single, solitaire diamond set in a simple gold band. 

“I promise you I will come back. And when this is all over, we can finally enjoy our life in peace, so long as you’ll have me.”

[betelgeuse-boo]

WARNING: NSFW !!!

If you are a minor or someone who does not want to see smut, please scroll past this post!!! Thank you!

Extensive Info/Warnings: Penetration, almost ‘caught in the act’, reader has breasts and a vagina and uses she/her pronouns

For @rhodochrosite-love; “How about Beej and a fem reader having some very loving sex but only realize they’re in the Deezlands living room when they’re caught by Adam and Barbara?” 

Love this idea! I hope you’re okay with me tweaking it just a bit so that it’s almost being caught and not quite actually being found out! Thought that would add some excitement >w> Thank you so much for the ask!

Words: 3332

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“Almost Caught”

It was no secret that you and Beetlejuice had enjoyed each other’s presence. Between the constant flirting on both ends, abundant PDA, and overuse of pet names, everyone in the Deetz-Maitland household would usually distance themselves when you visited. Not because they didn’t enjoy your company, of course, but Beej would often hog you to himself and his overly doting attitude towards you would make all the other household inhabitants sick. Thankfully, you two had the house practically to yourselves today! ...The operative word being “practically”.

Adam and Barbara Maitland were housebound their afterlife, the only place other than their home that they were allowed to reside in being the Netherworld. They preferred to stay in the house that they shared with their strange gained family, and while they were often about in other rooms in the abode, they had recently learned to stay in the attic when you would visit after giving you a brief greeting. They always intended to flee before seeing Beetlejuice press a thousand kisses against you. 

The house was quieter than usual as the Deetzes were gone- on a road trip to Vermont for some sort of convention Delia was interested in. After the ghostly married couple said their hellos to you and promptly dashed upstairs after BJ picked you up into a tight bear hug, you found yourself relaxing on the couch with your demonic partner. The green haired spectre was talking, at length, about how his week went, making sure to not leave out the details of eating an infestation of bugs that were found in the attic so that the Deetzes “wouldn’t have to call pest control”. You found yourself almost apprehensive as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, but as he informed you he had ‘taken care of’ the issue a couple of days prior, you figured it’d be okay to let him continue to smooch you. Hopefully...

Conversation between the both of you died down as he got lost in cuddling with you, his big, clawed hands holding you as gingerly as he could, the bulky demon taking turns between nuzzling you and peppering kisses all over your face. He was quite the sucker for both giving and receiving affection, and he always did an amazing job in making you feel loved. As he wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against his soft yet clammy body, he muttered against your neck. 

“I missed you.”

It had only been about a week and a half since you last saw him in person, but your job involved traveling out of town a lot. You had been unable to summon him in partial fear of him wrecking the hotel you stayed at and in partial responsibility in desiring to get full nights of sleep so that you could perform adeptly at work. Of course, you had missed Beetlejuice and you were hoping to transfer to a job soon where you could stay in town so that you could spend more time with him. 

“I missed you too, bug,” You replied, pulling away from him slightly to see him smiling at you, happy to hear that he was wanted. His relatively innocent sentimentality faded as the doofy grin transformed into a smirk, one of his hands sliding down your back and resting at your butt for a moment before he squeezed it with a crude chuckle.

“And I missed this too.” A chill traveled up your spine as the sensation of him touching you paired with the sound of his gravelly voice lowering ever so slightly to a more suggestive tone. Beetlejuice paused, his eyes finding yours, and you leaned forward to plant a kiss against his lips- intentionally banishing the bug eating anecdote he had given moments before to the recesses of your mind- cupping his ever so slightly warmer cheek with your hand. 

You knew complimenting him like this would go to his head, but figured it was still worth telling him. “I...thought about you a lot while I was away.” With this, you trailed one of your hands down his chest and over his plush belly before groping ever so slightly at his crotch, eliciting a soft gasp out of him. Your bug’s gaze grew more intense as he somehow scooched even closer to you, continuing to idly rub and pinch at the fat on your butt. The demon moved in to kiss at your neck, making you shiver once more at the initial electric sensation the contact gave you. A halfway stifled gasp soon left you as he incorporated his sharp teeth- gently nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh, holding you flush against him. 

While this was incredibly arousing, you couldn’t help but feel that doing this sort of stuff in the living room felt...odd. Like, the space was too open. “Do you think we should take this somewhere else?” You asked hesitantly, though there weren’t really many options to do more sensual stuff with BJ in the Deetz-Maitland household. The bedrooms, of course, were off limits, the Maitlands were currently in the attic, the kitchen just felt…wrong. You had normally only had sex with Beetlejuice when you had summoned him into your home instead of when you visited him at this location, and the one other time you had done anything sexual in this house was in the bathroom one night when everyone else was asleep. 

Beej laughed against your neck and you jumped at the sensation of his cold breath hitting the saliva coated skin he had previously been sucking on. “There’s no one else home, babes. The married dorks are doing some project upstairs and you know they can’t hear shit up there. Especially when they get in their ‘zone’, heh.” As you were silent, he pulled away, removing his hands off you and holding them up. “If you want to stop we can-”

“-No!” You interjected, a bit more vigor in your reply than you anticipated, BJ smirking at the enthusiasm. “....Okay. If you’re sure the Maitlands won’t be able to hear anything then I’m fine doing it here.” 

“That’s my girl.” Beetlejuice purred, clambering on top of you and cautiously pushing you down so that you were reclining on the couch, your neck propped up by the armrest. There was hardly enough room for his 6’5, 300 pound frame in this position on the couch, but he was determined in making you feel good after not having been able to for what seemed like forever to him. He began to rub at your sides, locking his lips with yours, that great big striped tongue of his quickly finding its way into your mouth. The two of you french kissed for a while, making up for lost time you guessed, before you felt Beej begin to rut against you, the both of you still fully clothed. A needy growl came from the demon on top of you as you could feel his erection press against your belly, and he had finally fully broken the kiss for the first time in what felt like ten minutes to comment that you were amazing. 

While you normally graciously accepted his compliments, there was something about him praising you during sexual acts that made you red and almost bashful. You choked out a ‘thank you’ before he gave you one last, brief kiss on the lips and pulled slightly away from you so that he could undo your button down shirt, fumbling with the buttons as he was way too eager to see what was under the garment. You stifled a giggle and let him flounder before he groaned in annoyance at the damned buttons and snapped his fingers, your shirt momentarily going up in a puff of green smoke before dropping to the floor next to the couch. Thankfully, he got your bra off without a hitch, and he moaned softly at the sight of your chest. “God, I missed these too,” Beetlejuice sighed out, pinching at the nipple on your right breast and grinning at seeing you inhale at the sensation. “Did you think about me playing with your body like this?” His yellow sclera seemed to glow as he locked eyes with you, rolling his fingers over the nub achingly slow. 

You quickly nodded in response, arching your back as electric arousal coursed through your body. Through having done intimate acts with you for some time now, Beetlejuice had gotten the hang of touching you in just the right ways. He always made it a point that he wanted you to be as turned on as possible and that seeing you aroused because of him was practically enough to get him to cream his pants. In other words, the ghost enjoyed playing with your body. 

Pleased at your affirmation, a rumble left his chest and he placed his hand on your other breast, squeezing and groping at the whole thing instead of just the nipple. “I thought about your pretty little self under me just like this, baby. Thinkin’ bout it got me jerking off so much pretending I was fuckin’ you,” He said with a laugh, relishing in you squirming with pleasure under him. “Can’t wait to cum inside the real thing after so long.” 

“It’s been a week and a half!” You giggled, voice quieter than usual as you found it difficult to speak when you were aroused. 

“I said what I said. That’s too long.” He returned to laying over you, making sure not to place his entire weight against you as he preferred that you were breathing, and began to nip at your earlobe, hands still against your breasts. At this angle, you could smell the dust that was collected in his locks, of which were now steadily turning pink. He was a master with his mouth- he had used it for God knows how many things that he could now excellently position his lips, tongue, and teeth to make sure he was making you feel the best you possibly could. Whining as you could feel his cold breath in your ear, you reached your arm up and held the nape of his neck, holding him against you. The space in between your thighs was incredibly tingly now, in between not having done anything of a sexual nature in a bit and Beej being admittedly good at foreplay, you felt like you needed him that very second. 

“I want you inside me now,” You murmured against him, and you heard him purr in response as he finished nibbling at your ear. Rising just a bit so he could plant his forehead against yours, he took a moment to catch his breath- you were still unsure on why exactly he still breathed despite allegedly not needing to. 

“Okay, sweets,” He responded, getting off you and clumsily undoing your jeans, managing to get them off without magic too. As he pulled the waistband of your pants down, he brought your panties off with them too- it was clear he was also eager to get right into it. However, as you sat there expectantly, waiting for him to push you down once more, he left his hands on your thighs and swallowed before asking, “Is it okay if you, uh, get on top this time? It’s kinda...hard to really get leverage on the couch,” Looking almost flustered, he flashed you a questioning, toothy grin, and you nodded. 

“Of course!” With this, Beej kissed your cheek and shifted so that he was in a similar position to the one you were just in, and you quirked an eyebrow. His signature two piece pinstripe suit was still on him. “Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?” 

He shook his head and yanked the waistband of his pants and boxers down, his dick springing up after he got his pants down to rest at his upper thighs. “Too lazy, plus I kinda’ like how warm fuckin’ with my clothes on makes me,” You wondered how he could possibly be too lazy to snap away his own clothes but you didn’t question it, wanting your bug to be as happy as he made you. After climbing on top of him, you played with his hair as you positioned yourself over his erection. Beetlejuice was in awe at the sight of your body, staring at your face and chest and hips and- he was suddenly squeezing his eyes shut, a long groan escaping him as you led him into you, half of his length enveloped by your warm vagina. One of his big, clammy hands found its way up to your hip, squeezing it as he rolled his own hips forward just a bit, pressing more of his dick inside of you. It didn’t take long before the both of you found a rhythm, you bouncing on top of him and him lazily rolling his hips under you. 

Neither of you were particularly quiet either- and it only took a moment before pleasured noises and groans were coming from the both of you, only silenced partially when you caught his lips in a kiss. When you had gotten all of him inside you, you sat there and relished in the feeling of it for a moment.  His dick was more than substantial for you; his dick always made you feel nice and full. The arousal was almost painful as you continued to bounce on him, feeling him grip at your hips and thighs and ass and- it took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that he had summoned his extra limbs to grope at more spots on you at once. Beej was hissing with pleasure and grumbling under his breath in his demonic language- he’d only really start speaking in the infernal tongue when he was really mad or really happy. It was easy to guess that the latter was the case in this situation. It was surprisingly arousing to watch him dip into his more arcane side, but it was as equally arousing when his eyes found yours and his gaze softened.

“F-fuck, baby, you feel fantastic around me,” Beej whined, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. Looks like using his suit as a sauna was working for him. He was choked up, almost overstimulated with pleasure, his claws pressing into your soft flesh. You couldn’t help but huff back in response as you continued to move your body on top of him, your own hands circling his chest and tummy. 

“And you feel fantastic inside of me.” You moaned out, having to speak just a bit louder over the sounds of your body meeting his. One could say that Beetlejuice had a praise kink, as he whined at the slightest mention of being good for you. The demon was basically drooling at this point, basking in the euphoria that the very notion of pleasing you brought. His hands- all six of them that were currently on you- aided you in your motions now, shifting your body up and pulling it back down against him. His penis was throbbing inside of you- you could feel it, the demon was already nearing orgasm. It was cute how easily you got him to cum- your bug was initially embarrassed, thinking that it wasn’t desirable to be essentially a two pump chump, but you couldn’t disagree more. You loved making him feel good as he did you. Nothing was as arousing and gratifying as when he flooded any one of your openings with his cum, and it would often bring your own orgasm on prematurely too. 

Trembling under you, you heard him beg for you to keep going, him all but singing your praises under you, losing his rhythm and just slamming his hips upwards now. He wasn’t lying, he was desperate to empty out his balls inside of you after a week and a half of having to get himself off, the poor thing. You were more than happy to accommodate- since he was a demon, he couldn’t get you pregnant due to some weird rules from the Nether. It was completely safe for him to make a cream pie out of you, and that’s honestly the way you preferred it anyways. It always felt weirdly dirty and you appreciated that.

“Th-that’s my bug,” You choked out, tears prickling in your eyes from the overwhelming euphoria encompassing all of you. Beetlejuice hummed at the nickname. “You’re almost there, baby.” 

The two of you kept going for a few moments, the big demon under you whining your name out as he could feel the onset of his orgasm. Sharp claws sunk into you as he pulled you against him one last time, about to explode inside of your warmth- however, something seemed to grab his attention as his pointed ears perked up, his previously closed eyes snapping open. While you paused and were about to ask him what was wrong, he began to mutter “fuck” over and over, snapping his fingers. In an instant, all your clothes were back on, albeit messily, and your ghost was hastily pulling his pants and underwear over his erect cock- which was leaking copious amounts of pre-cum- and tucking his undershirt in. 

“What-” Was all you managed to say before you jumped at a voice behind you. 

“Hey, (Y/N), would you happen to know the name of that one animal you were telling us about?” You recognized the voice belonged to Adam Maitland, and it was coming from the top of the stairs. Awkwardly, you turned around to face him, wondering why in the world that was such a burning question that he had to come down unannounced. As you opened your mouth to respond, you could see Adam’s expression shift, and Barbara piped in too, walking out from the upstairs hall and standing behind her husband.

“Adam was saying that you said it was ‘capybara’ but that doesn’t feel right. Aren’t capybara those big rodents? The one we’re talking about are small ones.” It was Barbara’s turn to stare at the both of you- her eyebrows knitting together as she noted how… uncharacteristically unkempt you in particular looked. “Are we interrupting something?” 

“No, not at all,” Beetlejuice sarcastically responded, turning to face the couple too. You could see out of the corner of your eye that his hair was back to green, smidges of red running through it. “You’re thinking about a ‘jerboa’, Adam. Not a capybara.” 

Adam’s face lit up with the realization that he had gotten the rodent’s name wrong. “Ahh, right.” His expression dropped after he noticed Beej scowling at him. “...Right, well, uh, thanks!” He quickly ducked out of view while Barbara stood still, quirking an eyebrow down at the two of you. 

“What is it, Babs?” Beetlejuice sighed. 

The blonde woman shrugged. “Maybe don’t do...that on the couch next time. If Delia notices a stain she’s gonna’ have your heads. I’d spray some Oxi-Clean on it if I were you.” With this, she turned and followed after her husband, leaving you and the demon feeling incredibly awkward. 

A few moments passed before Beetlejuice stood up and said, “Welp, that was the worst thing to ever happen.” His expression softened as he looked at you and he ran his fingers through his mane, now back to its neutral green. “Sorry that was cut short. I could hear them leave the attic cause...y’know, superhuman senses and all.” He tapped one of his pointy ears.

You placed a hand on his thigh and smiled, finding humor in the situation. “It’s okay, Beej. It was fun.” Rising as well, you straightened your clothes out and planted a kiss against his chest. “...And besides, we can always try for round two at my place after we clean this couch.”

Pink strands began to jut through his locks again, a doofy grin once again finding its way onto his face. “Yeah. I’d like that, baby.” 

[starsmuserainbow]

Starfire’s RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: I go by Star or Starfire online. If we’re close, I might give you my real name upon asking - but if I do, please don’t ‘openly’ call me by it for others to see on this site. I’m very hesistant about RL things like that. OOC Contact: IMs and Asks are always open (and IMs are always OOC, I don’t do IC IMs), I also have Discord. I’m not giving out my Discord to everyone though, so please forgive me if I decline when you ask for it. Again I don’t do IC on Discord. As for plotting purposes or things like that, I think IMs would work the best.

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

An alien from the planet of Tamaran, Starfire was a princess there but left the planet a while ago because she wanted to explore other worlds and meet other people. Overly friendly, always excited to meet new people, very gullible and also somewhat naive. But don’t let that fool you, she’s not stupid, and her alien abilities also make her a threat if you decide to use her friendliness for your own purposes.

Points of interest:

She has orange-ish skin as it is common for tamaraneans. Her eyes are green, the sclera as well as the pupil even though the pupil is a bit darker. She can fly, assimilate languages through lip-contact, has superhuman strength, can withstand many difficult circumstances (like the vastness of space, and she doesn’t feel hot or cold unless in that environment for very long or in certain emotional states), and she has a kind of energy that is commonly referred to as ‘starbolts’ which she can use in various ways to attack others. While she has learned english through language assimilation, she still has a strange way of speaking sometimes. Especially with sayings it can easily happen that she doesn’t quite understand them yet. Due to coming from a different planet, her tastes might seem very strange to some people (e.g. she has a big liking of mustard as a drink), and she also still tries to keep up some of her people’s traditions like festivals even when she lives on earth now. She’s very friendly, bubbly and cheerful, probably a bit too energetic for certain people’s tastes, and overall enjoying to be together with people as long as they aren’t (openly) ‘mean’ or ‘evil’.

What they’ve been up to recently:

I don’t really do much in likes of story lines on this blog (yet?), she still lives with her friends in Titans Tower and often spends her free days visiting other areas of the world to meet new people. Other activities in her free time are shopping, flying over the city, and spending time with anyone she calls friend or whom she might be able to call friend later. On the not-free days there’s a lot of crime-fighting involved.

Where to find them:

Titans Tower, Jump City, any kind of Shopping Mall. She also frequently flies to other areas of the earth, so she could be found basically everywhere on the planet.

Current plans:

As stated above, I don’t really do big story lines or such. I had an AU thing once that I had running basically as a sort-of ‘event’ (Blackfire’s Final Trial was how I called it, searching for it will probably show you more info - or you need to ask me), and while similar might happen again if I ever get that spark of an idea again, nothing is really planned at the moment.

Desired interactions:

I’d really like to have more enemies for her. I love my sweet little beam of sunshine and how she tries to see the good in everyone, but I feel like there’s not enough villain/enemy stuff going on. Also I would really love more interactions for my other verses too (most prominently I’d name my Evil!Star here and my “Bad Endings”-verse), see my verses page for more details for that please. I’m open to any kind of crossover, even if I don’t know about your fandom yet! (Which of course doesn’t mean that I’m not open for anything else, any kind of interaction is great!)

To also name some specific character/s I’d really like to interact with: Mar’i (kid of Robin and Starfire in some future timeline, originating from one comic-line I think)! I have a wishlist-post about that too. There’s never enough RobStar, of course, but at least I do know and am mutuals/interacting with some Robins at the moment, so I don’t really think that should even be listed here - but since there can never be enough, here it is. Cyborg. Has there ever been a Cyborg RPer that lasted longer than, idk, a week or so? Because I definitely haven’t found anyone like it, which is a shame. I’d like to list some more, but two others I could name are ones where I can add more explanation, or ideas, on my other blogs, so that’s where they’ll be listed instead.

Offered interactions:

Starfire sometimes takes her home-made food to offer it to others. Be aware that the tamaranean food often has very different tastes from what would be expected. She also loves to take people flying with her, or talk about her planet. She tries to help in basically any way she could for any problem you might have. She could also easily end up crashing somewhere - as she’s quick to be distracted for a few moments and not check where she’s flying. Or come and go on some other kind of adventure with her! Crime-fighting is naturally also one of the things she’d appreciate a partner (or enemy) in.

Current open post/s:

Open Starters here (and please feel free to reply to ones that already have replies, that doesn’t mean they aren’t still open!) and Memes here! Both are always open, and you’re free to answer or send in something older too! There’s no expiration date on my things!

Anything else?:

I live in germany which sadly causes me to miss out many great things when they happen on the dash. I tend to read all that is on my dash once I’m awake again, but I don’t feel brave enough for reacting to anything that might have happened hours ago. Oh, I’m also as shy as can be, or maybe even shy-er than that. I do try to change this and everyday tell myself to go and approach someone or send in things to others, but that’s hard and quite often it doesn’t happen. I do have Wire-accounts for my muses, and you can either search for them on my blog or ask me about them, but I don’t know if I could/will ever do any good on those.

Tagging: Anyone that took the time to read this!

[kfcgiselle495-blog]

Wales On Sunday (Cardiff, Wales).

Melanin is the pigment that provides color to our skin layer, which is influenced due to the flow of blood in our body. The fighter of the Light keeps a perspective of and also manifests along with Stiffness, milosport.info affection as well as lighting matched with modesty. For the final 2 months my 60" TV has actually been actually having a concern along with pale colours (generally when in a menu of types) where it quivers a lot of arbitrary shades. Certainly, white is actually often used a history as it enhances any type of plus all colours around it, nonetheless overuse can easily create a sensation of sterility and also cold. Be it eco-friendly, blue, pink or red, every colour has an one-of-a-kind potential to remedy illness. What that implies is actually that if you're going grey as well as you wish to look great, you might need to color your hair anyway - either to change it back to a "more youthful" color, or even to create your grey an uniform tone, or even to tie the pepper-and-salt highlights. But if you have actually performed some long-term tinting you will certainly have to spend more opportunity on it if you have actually never ever colored your hair it can easily be very easy. Prior to you attempt this I recommend checking out it. If you can love your Light, it will be less complicated to behave, every little thing that occurs will certainly not make your heart bigger, it will certainly not turn your Light and also blaze off. Our company advanced in the white lighting of the sunshine, and white lighting has all the colours of the range. . These are the coat design, spotted skin layer sphere the muzzle and also genitals, a white colored sclera (location round the eye) as well as vertical dark and also light-toned striping on the hooves.

If you develop these affiliations right into tools - higher-pitched details to indicate brighter colours, for example - it may boost the rates at which folks match these colours and sounds up. By doing this, the SSDs synchronise what we really feel must exist with what is. Being a hairdresser I have modified my colour sometimes for many years, and have found what jobs and also what enhances my skin. Likewise add some truly "retro" drapes such as white colored along with brownish and blue trends as an example, as well as currently you have finished your basement reno on the inexpensive. If your preparation on going from incredibly lightweight to darker or vice-versa DEFINITELY most likely to an expert as they can possibly do this process a lot easier as well as protect against any type of significant damage to your hair also ideal your colour. In theory you can get different paints for all the different colors you anticipate to use but for me, acquiring the rudiments (reddish, blue, yellowish, dark, white as well as I obtained all wild and also acquired a pleasant "brownish" too) was fine, and I may blend whatever hues I want.

Louvred patio covers might be actually flexible or dealt with, and whilst the flexible kinds may be shifted to allow practically any kind of level of lighting or shade during the training course of the day, dealt with louvres can be put up to screen the sunshine during the hrs of the time that it's certainly not needed. Now that I'm much older I love light-toned colours like white as well as sky blue ect; I have actually diagnosed myself and related to the final thought that when I was actually much younger I was actually dissatisfied a lot as well as disheartened searching for my way. She was actually stated to be of English or Thoroughbred blood stream, but her dark colour (unusual in Thoroughbreds, but common in Canadians), endurance, trotting potential as well as her place of birth suggest she was actually a lot more likely to have actually been actually a Canadian.