#pip and dot humans

[soulsatstake]

THE CASINO CAST HUMANS!🎲♥️

"SOULS AT STAKE" ♥️🔥 (AU)

If all goes well, I will start posting about this AU very soon‼️👀

[year2000electronics]

What is Stanley like in Demonswap AU

SO. to recap a little, ford is known as ford vigenere, a demon who was originally from lottocron 9, the gambling dimension! thats why he's in the form of a 38-sided die

...so his brother is a six-sided die, one that's more traditionally associated with gambling! unlike ford, who changed his last name, stan kept their original last name, so he's known as stanley pips! (pips are what the little dots on the dice are called)

stan is part of ford's henchmaniacs- as is everyone else originally on the cipher wheel- so you wouldn't see much of him in the actual "canon", but his relationship with ford is MUCH better than in canon... yknow in a way. its not better because theyre more mature people, its better because they both destroyed their dimension together and ran off with all the power they could imagine.

he and ford also adopted dipper and mabel from ANOTHER different dimension so ofc stan spoils them rotten when ford's busy pretending to be a muse to stupid humans or whatever

[akingnotaprincess]

Fic: By Design (chapter 2)

Read on AO3

Author: @akingnotaprincess

Fandom: Star Trek TNG, Star Trek DS9

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Julian Bashir/Data

WC overall: 63,264

WC this chapter: 4.7k

Notes: This has been my baby for a long time. What started out years ago to be 4,000 words max has blossomed into the longest fic I've ever written.

By Design wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the love and support I've gotten from everyone on the 30+ Fanfic discord server. I can't thank you enough. I don't think I've done a dedication before, but this one is for all of you. ♥

Many thanks to changeableLandscape for beta-ing the entire fic.

Summary, overall: When Jules is born there is a name over his heart. That's not unusual since there's always an age difference between soulmates. After all, the names appear at the exact moment when the other half is born—down to the millisecond. The odd part of Jules' mark is the name itself. Only one word—Data. What is that supposed to mean? What kind of name is that? It's not even a proper name. His soulmate isn't a Liam, or a Noah, or a Sophia or an Evelyn—something normal. No, the one who matches Jules' soul goes by Data.

-----

Data does not understand this need that humans have to be with one's soulmate, even though he has one himself. The name, Jules Subatoi Bashir, appeared over where a human heart would be, three years after being activated. It is a particular signature—very sloppy with embellished loops—like it had been written in some sort of hurry. He keeps the mark to himself, finding that it is no one else's concern. It is unimportant, and would only serve as a distraction to his work and life.

Snippet: "Excuse me, do you have authorization to work in this area?"

The voice is a little stilted, even slightly robotic, but that doesn't raise his hackles. This problem is more important than that. "Come in, come in." He waves the stranger into the room, as if this is his medical bay, and not one that he's commandeered for his own needs. "I need help with this field generator. See if you can boost the output to 65%?" He pulls back to let them have a look, but cannot help himself, and leans forward again, hovering over the field generator. He's expecting some help, someone who is just as intrigued as he is, someone… someone who has a normal hand?

A large hand with shimmering pale skin covers the field generator instead. "I'm sorry," the stranger says.

Julian whips his head up to meet whoever is stopping him from performing his tests, and his eyes bug out of his head and his brain tries to connect the dots on what—who—he's seeing. His mind runs through all of the possibilities he can fathom. They're not human—the skin and golden eyes make that perfectly clear. However, there's no alien race he's aware of that matches what is in front of him.

That's… odd.

"But use of sick bay equipment is limited to medical personnel."

"Ah," Julian says, a little deflated. His journey fast-tracking the solution to his problem is nearing the end. Well, he is a Starfleet doctor, perhaps that will be enough. He holds out a hand to shake. "Doctor Julian Bashir. Chief Medical Officer. Deep Space Nine." The stranger grasps his hand, and dear God his grip is strong. Julian tries his best not to show the discomfort on his face. He eyes the pips below the collar: two gold, one black. He's speaking with a lieutenant commander. Hopefully his charm gets him out of this situation unscathed. "And you are Commander…?"

"Data."

It's as if the wind has been knocked out of him. He sucks in a deep breath—he feels like he is gulping for air.

Data.

Data.

His Data!

Oh fuck.

[fortitudina]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Dorothea Aurora Morningstar NICKNAME: Dot, Dottie, Little Dot AGE: 18 BIRTH DATE: 15th June GENDER: Female SPECIES: Angel ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demiromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual RELIGION: N/A SPOKEN LANGUAGE: Multilingual CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: Home with her mother OCCUPATION: Creator of creatures, full time sweetheart

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS:         • Jophiel ( mother ) SIBLINGS:       • Nil SIGNIFICANT OTHER:       • Verse Dependent CHILDREN:       • N/A FRIENDS:       • Lonan Morningstar ( cousin )       • Valentin Demiurgos ( uncle ) OTHER CONNECTIONS:      • Lucifer Morningstar ( Uncle )      • Akrasiel ( Uncle )      • Lucien Morningstar ( cousin )      •  Sima Morningstar ( cousin )      • Phenex Morningstar ( cousin ) • Ramiel Celeste ( aunt ) • Eliza Campbell ( godmother )

PHYSICAL TRAITS

EYE COLOUR: Blue Eyes HAIR COLOUR: Blonde Hair HEIGHT: 5’6” BODY BUILD: ectomorph TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: pierced ears NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: she has pastel pink wings when they are unfurled, along with a pastel pink tint to her grace. 

POWERS & ABILITIES

POWERS:      • Creation of fauna & flora     • Angel Physiology      • Flight via wings      • Immortality       • Angelic Beauty       • Healing      • Purification ABILITIES:      • Skilled Ballet Dancer      • Animal whisperer      • One with Nature WEAKNESSES:      • Lots of people       • Too much noise      • Overwhelming situations      • Celestial Weapons

PHOBIAS & DISORDERS

PHOBIAS: Anthropophobia MENTAL DISORDERS: Autistic, Major Social Anxiety, OCD WHEN WAS THIS DIAGNOSED?: A few years after she was born.

PERSONALITY

PERSONALITY TYPE: ISFJ-T ( Turbulent Defender ) MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good INTELLIGENCE: Highly Intelligent LIKES: Her creatures, Dancing, Flowers, Cupcakes DISLIKES: Lots of noise, Too many people, bullies, feeling confined DISPOSITION: She is an extremely shy soul but one that is incredibly caring and will do all that she can to show those that she loves, how much she cares about them. She is hard to get to know at first, due to her nature. Social situations are very much a struggle for her and she often finds herself feeling incredibly nervous and anxious.  EXTRAS: She is often a lot more confident when Pip, her first creation and best friend is close by. He likes to vet others to ensure that they will not cause Dot distress and this helps a great deal.

BIOGRAPHY

Dorothea was a blessing gifted to Jophiel by her father after she was freed from her capture. Yahweh believed that in having someone to care for, it would help Jophiel in her recovery from all that she had endured so, he allowed her the gift of bearing a child and becoming a mother. Jophiel carried Dorothea as a mother would, nurturing her within her own body and allowing her to grow, despite the fact that she would become an angel like her mother. 

When Dot was born, Jophiel struggled. She had never experienced the intimacy that would usually lead to the procreation of children so things were somewhat difficult. Jophiel’s labour was long and tiring and both Jophiel and Dorothea grew distressed and tired as a result. Ramiel ended up being called to help her sister, as did the human doctor, Eliza. Together, they were able to help Jophiel give birth to Dot but there was no sudden cry. Jophiel began to panic when she did not hear her child but Eliza took the newborn aside and worked on her and with some aid from Ramiel, Dorothea finally gave out her first cries. 

Jophiel was protective of her daughter from that moment on. She made sure that Dot always had everything that she needed and tended to her whenever she scraped herself. As Dot developed and aged, Jophiel began to notice that her daughter did certain things. Patterns became an evident thing for Dot ~ she would count certain numbers, clap in certain rhythms and step in certain ways. At first, Jophiel simply believed it to be Dot’s imagination but it slowly became evident that it was not imagination at all. When she asked Dot what she was doing one afternoon, Dot yelled at her, stating that she needed to do the pattern correctly, otherwise another girl would not like her at school.   Jophiel wondered if Dorothea was being bullied. She was trying to give her as much of a normal life experience as possible but she wondered if it was too much for Dot to handle. The more she chose to watch her daughter, the more Jophiel began to see more into how Dot’s mind worked. Social things seemed to make her anxious for one; if Jophiel mentioned that they needed to go out, the likelihood of Dot having a meltdown as a result were high. Her meltdowns often consisted of her panicking and repeating “no” over and over again whilst her fingers frantically picked at the skin of her other fingers and she would frantically scratch herself on her hands and arms. 

Worried for her daughter and unsure of how to help, Jophiel asked her brother for help. Akrasiel suggested that she take Dot to be seen by a doctor that was not any of their siblings or Eliza; one that specialised in the mind. Jophiel knew the strain it would be to get Dot to go but she prepared herself for the meltdown and took Dot to be seen. As a result of the visit with the doctor, Dot was diagnosed with a level of Autism. In doing the tests, however, it was found that Dot particularly found dancing and being around animals calming in comparison to the anxiety of being around people. This news was like a small relief to Jophiel, being a lover of dancing and animals herself. 

She decided to remove Dot from the “normal” life, electing to teach her at home with the help of animals and dancing to keep her as happy as possible. She often took Dot up to heaven too, letting her be free up there to be herself. Heaven time also meant that Dot could grow quicker and not feel cared about doing so. When it came to her hitting puberty, Jophiel knew she would have another task on her hands. With puberty came wings and realising her powers and she worried if all those sudden changes would be too much for Dorothea to handle. 

They had been home on Earth for a few days when it began to happen, but it did not happen in the way that Jophiel was expecting. Usually, the wings happened first but with Dot, that was not the case. Jophiel found out when Dot had come running inside from the front of the house, her face a picture of fear. Upon her looking out of the window, Jophiel saw the reasoning for why, seeing that Dot had wrapped a kid up to a tree with a series of vines. She was not surprised that Dot had inherited her power where vines protected her when threatened but she now had to explain to Dot what was happening to her. 

    Jophiel moved to find her daughter and found her curled up in a corner. The wings were now there, wrapped around Dot’s form as she tried to hide herself away as much as she could. It took several hours of explaining from Jophiel before Dot understood what was happening to her body. She did not want to hurt people and hoped that nothing would come of what she had done to the kid. Jophiel reassured her that she would be okay. 

They began to work at harnessing Dot’s powers more and more. Jophiel taught her to fly and taught her how to create but for the most part, she allowed Dot to get used to her powers in her own way. Her first creation was Pip, a spritely little guy that looked like a mix of a pixie, a mermaid, and who knows what. Dot was extremely proud of herself for her creation and Pip very much became the best friend that she’d never had. 

As Dot created more and more creatures, Jophiel began to realise that many of them could not be seen by the human eye. As such, she helped Dot take them all up to Heaven. Asherah agreed that Dot would benefit from having her own hideaway space up there, so created a garden for Dot and her creatures, housing all of the ones she’d already created and leaving plenty of room for any others that she made. Pip was the one that did not go in there, however. Pip had become Dot’s support and Jophiel could see how Pip was helping Dot. 

Now at eighteen, Dot has a better grasp of her powers and she is quite happy hiding away at home with Pip and the animals. She has her good points and bad, but she has support to help her get through the tougher times. 

[hey-imma-fangirl]

Hi there! I love your artworks. Though I wonder, have you done a Pip and Dot Humanized genderbent yet??

Heya! And thank you!!

I’ve uhm… made some drawing IDEAS for Pip and Dot, but I don’t think I ever posted them. But I eventually made a design that I’m… Ok with.

Yes I know from the original game/series- They’re supposed to be conjoined twins. I know, I know, I know

So please allow me to explain 😅

I tried to draw them as conjoined twins- I tried. And it was downright terrifying- So terrifying, in fact that I refuse to show you guys their first few designs. And you guys wouldn’t even be able to see them anyways because I deleted them. They’re gone forever 😅

So we ended up with this:

So they’re identical twins in this au. And yes Luci gets them confused- In fact a lot of the Casino workers get them confused. And they kinda just… Roll with it. They’re kinda like Fred and George from Harry Potter or the Blight twins- They like to cause problems on purpose

So I hope this design… Shall suffice

[roroorecmoo]

[reinabeestudio]

Surprise! Cuphead bosses no one asked for :D

The casino is one of the most loved stages in the game (thanks King Dice lol), so here I bring you the first part of the casino staff as humans✨ 

*More human designs: Cuphead & Mugman/Isle II boses/Isle III bosses

+personal headcanons for you~

This is the same as Cuphead and Mugman: these aren’t their real names, just nicknames :v

The Tipsy Troop, as expected, are bartenders at the place!

Their actual names are: Hudson (whiskey), Jerry (rum) and Tina (martini).

They met when they started working at the casino, actually. They get along quite well!

Chips Bettigan, one of the many dealers that work there.

His last name is Bettigan! However, his real name is Douglas.

He isn’t even from the south, he just grew up watching a lot of Westerns lol

Is his hair really blue? Did he dye it? Who knows, he never told.

Short and young, gamblers don’t take him seriously at first (Mistake(tm)).

Mr. Wheezy, one of the oldest casino members, works as a pit boss :0

No one knows this man’s real name! Some say it may be Drew, but it hasn’t beeen confirmed.

Obviously, this guy smokes, and you’ll see him with a cigar on his lips most of the time.

This guy is huge, it’s ridiculous (and kinda scary :’v). His height and his strong smell really give him away while he’s watching the games.

Pip and Dot, the duo that perform every night at the casino!

Peter and Dorothy Ivory are their names, a newlywed couple that are very close to each other (maybe too much?).

Seriously, it’s rare to see them apart. It’s like they’re stacked together :y

Dot is the one who is easy to anger! Pip just has a serious expression by nature, he’s literally ready to fight anyone.

Originally criminals, it isn’t clear what they used to do: some say they robbed banks, and others say they were con artists.

They sometimes perform with Hopus Pocus, working as his assistants for his magic tricks.

Hopus Pocus, another performer who works as a magician there!

This magic fella’s name is Melvin (aka Mel for friends), but you aren’t supposed to know a magician’s real name >:v

His magic is the real deal. It isn’t tricks, what you see is actually happening! So don’t anger the lil guy, hm?

The yellow on his eyes was an error he made during practice when he was still an apprentice, or so he says.

King Dice doesn’t allow Hopus to drink coffee. Trust me, you don’t wanna mix those two together.

Hopus has been everywhere! If you’re bored, maybe he can tell you about one of his travels? (in exchange for coffee)

Good friends with Mr. Chimes and Mangosteen!

[ah-shit-ididitagain]

Sadly some characters couldn't fit here also my hand got tired ;;

[doppydoppie]

Doddles ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[lealbatross95]

my headcanon about them: - They are not brothers, they are a couple. - Pip was an acrobat but he lost his legs (due to illness or war I don't know). Despite this, Dot has always urged him to continue to train so they perform together. - Pip is the silly one and always flirts as if it were the first day with Dot. - Dot is the most serious and rigid but Pip's flattery make her blush everytime. - If Pip is too stupid, Dot beats him (jokingly).

[zaraegis]

Concept: PippinDots but she’s got all the Leg and he’s got a hell of an Arm game

[soulsatstake]

To King Dice

Do you happen to be friends with anyone at the Casino? If so, who? And also, do you know any gossip cuz I’d love to hear that

♥️~𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧~♥️

♥️

Souls at Stake has arrived !♥️

[dashintrash]

I hope I got it right

[spacialhair]

Finally finished my Pip and Dot piece. I might add shading later if I’m up for it.

[azulbun]

The Boss

[strawurberries]

Stretchmarks

Summary: Vash learns about those little markings he's seen on his lover, and oh God does he fall head over heels.

Authors Note: This is written with Tristamp! Vash in mind, and this idea was sparked by this post :) This is written as a fem! reader. I hope you all enjoy! (Also, here's your tag @blackkiwi! I hope you like it :) I went in a bit of a different direction so I might revisit this idea in the future!!)

Warnings: Mild nudity, sexual themes, self-hate.

Vash didn’t understand it—how could someone so beautiful, holding something so unique and precious, hate themselves and their markings? He felt bad for staring, he really did, but the damp air from the shower seemed to settle around her, water droplets becoming stars and her eyes morphing in a galaxy of possibilities. She, though, didn’t seem to understand his awe. All she saw was the man she loved staring at a part of her she didn’t hate, per se, but rather didn’t love completely. He knew he should’ve looked away, apologized and let her know that he was stunned with adoration, not disgust. Yet he didn’t. Like the fool he was, and always will be, he didn’t have the bravery to confess.

“Ah, sorry,” with a nervous grin she had tried to cover her hips, where the most prominent of her stretch marks were. “I didn’t know you were coming back so soon.” She grabbed her things and shuffled back into the bathroom, wearing only her underwear and a towel loosely draped over her shoulder, “I was just getting my clothes.” With a quiet click, the bathroom door shut and the room was plunged into a somber darkness. 

Idiot, he bit at himself, why did you just stare? The patterns though, those curlings lines and loveable little dots and spots, it reminded him of himself; when he looked in the mirror and saw his face staring back, covered in blue lines that marked him as alien, foreign. Was she. . . like him? He turned to look at the bathroom door, listening to the quiet rustling within. No, he thought, she’s human. But there was something so remarkable about those lines, he couldn’t stop thinking.

Like me, she’s like me. 

Later they sat in their shared room, the silence acting as a tyrant, holding its grip tight and solid over the melancholic atmosphere. Neither one had spoken since she had retreated to the bathroom an hour earlier; she being silent out of fear and embarrassment, and he out of nervousness and curiosity. 

After finishing getting ready for the night, she laid in her bed across the room. Vash, on the other hand, was sitting criss-crossed in his, staring at his fumbling hands. 

“You know,” he said, cringing at the abruptness of his voice, “I think you’re really pretty.”

She shuffled slightly in bed, blankets falling off her shoulders, “thank you, I appreciate it. You’re pretty as well.”

He blushed at the compliment—thump, thump, thump, beat his heart. It roared at him to confess, to open his mouth and say everything he wanted too. He didn’t. He fiddled with his hands and lightly tapped his cheek to cool the scorching redness that had overtaken him. “Earlier,” his voice was quiet, a pip-squeak of a noise, “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay.”

He started to disengage his prosthetic arm, small clicks and whirs making the silence seem louder than before. “I—” he gently set his arm on the ground beside his bed, rubbing the raw and sore flesh. He didn’t often sleep without his arm, for a fear of being attacked in the middle of the night, but his body couldn’t handle it much longer. It pulled and gnawed on his shoulders, making his entire body ache with a pain he can only describe as deafening. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, but if I did, I apologize.”

She finally turned over, watching as he hopelessly stared at her with a twinge of fear and. . . something else she couldn’t describe. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she smiled softly, “I was jus’ thinking.” She could never be mad at him—not that she was mad at him in the first place, in fact, she had only felt mild embarrassment towards the whole situation. The day had been long, and even if he hadn’t caught her getting out of the shower, she would’ve been quiet and exhausted—, and looking at him now only made her feel like she was gazing at a kicked puppy.

He tilted his head, “about what?”

“My body,” she huffed and sat up, “you know those days?’ Her voice was a little quiet, less teasing than it usually was, and so, painfully somber.

He understood. Sometimes he’d sit out in the desert, watch the sunset and wonder why he felt so unnatural; as if he wasn’t a person, but a thing occupying space in a body that didn’t belong to him. And sometimes he’d cover up mirrors with his coat, afraid to look into them and see what he really looked like. And other times he’d look down at himself and shove back the tears because he was a mural of pain and he wouldn’t have it any other way but God, did he wish there were other options. And sometimes he’d simply lay in bed and think about everything he hated about himself, starting with his personality and then moving on to his actions, and then he’d think about his body and then he really felt the pain because he belonged to this prison of flesh and bone, this sacred thing, and he had managed to decimate it in so many ways it would never be able to recover. And, sometimes, he hated how he looked because she deserved better. And sometimes he, without any reason really, despised the man he was, and the way he looked. So, yes, he understood those days. He understood better than anyone really; and it made his heart hurt thinking she had felt the same way. 

In his eyes she was the most beautiful thing. She rivaled the stars, the ones he watched on that ship all those years ago. The greenery of flora and the nature of Earth couldn’t even compare. And even if some Goddess was to descend from the heavens, bearing all her glory and luxury at her bosom, he would deny it and find himself back in her arms. In his eyes, she was worth everything and more.

He stumbled over to her bed, momentarily forgetting himself as he slammed into the mattress with an abundant lack of grace and caution. “I get it, I do,” 

She blinked at him.

“Somedays I–I hate myself and sometimes I can’t even look in the mirror, and really almost everyday I can’t even look at myself,” he forgot he had taken his prosthetic off, trying to grab her face with his hand. He paused and cursed a little under his breath, stub awkwardly hanging between them. “I forgot I took that—okay whatever,” he used his other hand to grab her face, fingers tracing her jaw, “but you know what makes me feel better about myself?”

She huffed a little and laughed, crossing her arms. “What?” she asked playfully. 

“You.”

She smiled softly, “I’m glad I can help.” A little sliver of anxiety still rested in her eyes.

He took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. “Yeah, so, let me help you this time,” he sat back on his knees, suddenly realizing how close he was. “If–if that’s okay. . .?” All his confidence, his burning determination to help, dissipated into the air and floundered about his mind in a wave of unease and mild embarrassment. 

She glanced down at herself, thumbing the edge of her shirt before nodding, “alright,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “you’ve convinced me.” She gave a nervous smile, one unsure of what was going to happen but trustful in the one before her—she had no doubts that he would keep her safe, happy, and comfortable.

He let out a goofy grin, slowly pushing her back onto the bed, “okay so um,” he stared down at her, blushing a delicious red as he slowly came to understand what position they were in. Her arms were slightly settled to the side, hands above her head and chest slowly rising with each suspenseful breath. Utterly divine, was the only description he could think of. “Uh, could you. .  uh, take your shirt off, maybe?” He wanted to cry when he realized his voice had cracked—uncool, so uncool.

She laughed, “alright, what are you really trying to do?” She grabbed the ends of her shirt and whisked it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of them really cared where it landed.

He waved his hand in the air and panicked, “no! No! I promise I’m not trying to do anything like that unless you want that—or, I mean, not right now! Uh, sorry!” His hands slapped over his face, covering the vague blue markings that had begun to peak through his skin.

She let out a boisterous laugh and grabbed his hips, lovingly drawing circles into his skin, “calm down, I was joking, pretty boy.”

The tips of his ears turned red, nearly drowning out his wonderful, brilliant blue, “pretty boy,” he mumbled. “Where’d that come from?” he squeaked out. 

“Jus’ tellin’ the truth,” she hummed, “now, why is my shirt off?”

“Oh!” his hands flew off his face and came to settle on her torso, nervously pressing into her skin. “I wanna—well, can I see your markings?” he leaned a little closer, tempted to put his forehead to hers, but he was too scared—what if she knows what that means? What if she hates doing that? What if she hates me?

“Markings?” she raised an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

“On your hips.”

“Hips?”

He gently hooked the edge of her pants, looking up at her for permission and when she gave it, he pulled them down slightly, revealing the little lines he had been so obsessed with earlier. Despite everything in him trying to keep his smile back, he couldn’t. “These,” he mumbled, tracing the marks with his fingers. His markings, no longer dull and scared, flowed to the surface of his skin and danced along his fingers. “They’re really pretty.” He wanted to see them in their entirety, observe how they rested along her skin and how they intertwined with one another—that would require less. . . clothing, and the thought made him blush madly, making his markings blink a bright blue for a moment.

She grabbed his hand and gave him a questioning look, “they’re not markings, they’re stretchmarks.”

He tilted his head.

“It’s like. . . little scars from when our skin stretches or shrinks too fast,” she smiled somberly, “they’re not as precious as your markings.”

He huffed and went back to caressing her skin, “I still think they’re amazing.”

“Not many people do,” she closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his touch, “so I appreciate it. Thank you.”

He hesitated and pulled his hands back, “do you. . . do you have more?”

She hummed. 

“Can I see them? If that’s okay with you?!”

She sighed and opened her eyes, “you love them that much?” A slight bit of hesitance, disbelief.

A child-like joy seeped into his voice, “yes! They’re like mine, but they’re so much prettier.”

She blinked, a small embarrassed expression coming to rest upon her face. “I mean, if you really want, I can show you.” 

He grinned excitedly and sat patiently on the bed as his lover slowly shimmed out of her pants, leaving them hidden by only two, thin articles of clothing that covered barely anything (not that he minded, but he was trying his hardest to focus on the markings solely—he didn’t want to be a creep. He was also trying to ignore the fact that this was only the third time he had seen her so vulnerable before. It made his heart soar, thinking that she trusted him so). After a moment, she returned back to bed and presented her thighs, where stretch marks were painted across her skin like a mural of heaven. “Here’s some more. They’re mostly on my legs and hips.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, “they’re a lot prettier up close.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead to her legs, closing his eyes. For a moment, he could’ve sworn he felt her very soul, as if he was connecting to a plant, and he shuddered out a sigh. “So, so, pretty.” He was lost in her now, gently tracing his fingers along her skin, nose buried into the side of her leg and he cherished every giggle and breathy laugh that came from his lover. 

“I never knew you’d like ‘em so much,” she tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly when he got a little too dazed and trailed his head up further than he should’ve.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, “they’re so. . . you’re so beautiful.”

She smiled softly, “you are too.” 

The compliment flew over his head, focused solely on the Goddess before him. The divinity that had graced his presence. He sloppily kissed her thigh again, trailing his love up and up and—

She tugged on his hair, “hey,” she warned, “you’re getting a little too close there, pretty boy.”

He stared up and blinked, chin settled in between her legs and nose dangerously close to the bottom of her underwear. It took a moment for him to come back to reality, realizing that he was in a position he’d only dreamed about. “Oh,” he blinked again. “I’m sorry!” he shot up and rested back on his knees. With her hand still in his hair, he was slightly bowed forward, eyes deliciously plastered to her legs. 

“Don’t apologize,” she whispered, “you’re fine.”

He whined a little, “I made you uncomforta—”

“When did I say that?”

He peered up at her through his eyelashes, watching her coy smirk expand into a sly smile. He stumbled over his words and quickly decided it would be better to shut up. What’s happening? Wasn’t she supposed to be yelling at him? Ashamed he had given into his desires a little too much? This was supposed to be about her, and how wonderful she was. Not him and his inability to hide his lustful curiosity. 

“In fact,” she tugged on his hair a little more, forcing him to crawl halfway on top of her to stop the dull pain in his scalp—he really didn’t mind it though, which made him rethink some things about himself. “I really enjoyed it.”

His markings glowed so bright, she had to look away for a moment. She snickered and brought one hand to his chin, the other leaving his hair and slowly trailing down his chest. “If I’m being honest,” she sighed, “I didn’t really like my stretch marks. They’re ugly and gross, but,” she stopped trailing her hand down when she got to the hem of his pants, “you made me feel better about them.” She smiled.

“I’m glad!” he nervously grinned and tried to adjust himself so the position would be less. . . intimate, but she didn’t let him. Part of him was begging her to do something, and the other part of him was screaming with fear and embarrassment so loudly he almost didn’t hear what she said next.

“So,” she drawled out, “if it’s okay with you, can I help you feel good?”

“What?” he squeaked. “Like–what? What does that mean?” Oh my god, he cried to himself, I’m an idiot! He beat down a whine that threatened to erupt from his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted the ground to swallow him up and never let him go.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself into him, hips bucking up and creating a delicious friction. He sucked in a strangled gasp and let his face fall into the crook of her neck, “sen–sensitive!” he cried. He gripped her waist, fumbling for a moment before once again realizing he had taken his prosthetic off. Vaguely he wondered if he should put it back on, but she bucked again and all thoughts fell out of his mouth as he cried.

“What do you say?” she purred, “up for a little fun?”

“You’re a,” he panted and ground his hips into her, muffling his moans in her flesh, “a tease.” He shouldn’t be doing this, should he? Should he have asked before he pressed himself into her, or was that normal? He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing here.

“C’mon pretty boy, I have to hear a yes,”

“Y–yes!” He whined and ignored the blue light that bathed them both—this is so embarrassing.

“Good boy.”

He squeaked and buried his face deeper into her neck, “oh my god.” This was going to be the death of him—not that he really minded.