having your body being copied for future printing was a bit of an odd feeling, but it didn’t matter anymore. and it really didn’t matter when she was planted with a gun against her head and had to shoot herself.

she did it of course, nothing really mattered to her anymore.

once their time on the ship got longer, people soon realised that she really didn’t care about what she did, and that she really was fucking reckless and careless - but that only made her more fun. her big personality on this sad ship made many people’s day, and she grew a secret admirer who wasn’t that secretive after all.

mickey watched her laugh and cry with her friends, her friend group at their regular lunch table were real funny, always laughing about something. sometimes he even found himself chuckling alongside them after overhearing a joke.

and he found himself becoming restless in his sleep the day after jennifer was crushed by that ice. he could hear her muffled sobs through the walls as she tried to sleep, and the empty seat in the lunchroom felt like an empty space in his heart.

y/n wished it was her instead of jennifer.

he could tell by the look on her face each time he saw her, it should’ve been either of them. they could be prinited out once again, but this was jennifer gone.

mickey soon found himself caring for her just a little bit more. on each mission they were sent on he made sure he was just a few steps ahead, and watched your every move with a bit more worry. he was glad he managed to get closer with her, but in this moment right now, he really wished she just ignored him like everybody else.

‘bu - but how did - why did you come back?’

her jaw was hung open and she was a blubbering mess, yet both mickeys had a slight smirk at the sight of her being so overwhelmed. mickey 18 had been printed out just this afternoon, and she wanted to pay him a small visit to see how he was doing. she really did not expect two of him.

the one of her rights seemed a lot more worried than the mickey of her left, so she payed more attention to the scared one. his hands were flailing all over the place and he kept stuttering over his every word - which made the other mickey scoff.

‘y/n i promise you, this - this was not intentional! but you cannot, you really can’t tell anyone about it!’

his hands were placed on her shoulders, holding her in place so she couldn’t run away if she tried. her brows were furrowed and she was gnawing on her bottom lip, something he really liked seeing her do. she shook free of his grip and backed up into the wall behind her, shaking her head at the two men infront of her.

‘so.. you’re mickey 17 -’ she questioned, pointing to the man directly infront of her, who nodded his head vigorously. ‘and - and you’re mickey 18?’ the second man only smirked, and dipped his head in assurance.

she covered her eyes and slid down the wall, sighing loudly at the situation at hand.

‘what are we going to do?’

mickey 18 approached her slyly, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘we could always -’ she swatted his hand away, glaring at him. ‘don’t you dare finish that sentence.’

she thought about it for a minute, listing the pros and cons of actually doing what he was insinuating. she glanced up at the two men, one stood with his hands crossed over his chest and the other leaning against the wall with a hand covering his mouth. it was simple, one was sweet, soft and caring, and the other was rough, mean and hard.

Satan:

You know, Satan thought that, the more alcohol you get into your system, the more…hungry you will get for violence. He likes it when you're tipsy, because when you're tipsy, you're bitey. You don't hesitate to sink your teeth deep into his muscles until even his very veins crunch under your incisors. Blood becomes a flavor enhancer to you. When you're like that, you seem no different than any of his citizens. Made Satan feel proud, in a weird way, that he can draw this side out of you.

Right now, however, he was just feeling bothered. And horny. Because you weren't biting down on his neck as he sat on your lap. You were nibbling, always stopping short of piercing his skin, leaving indents instead of wounds. He slid on your lap, hoping that you would take bites in other places now that you were plastered, but instead you were testing his limits. His nails clawed into the wood of the bar behind you, his teeth creaking under the force of his jaw, and legs trembling to keep from closing around your hips and potentially breaking them.

At least you probably won't remember this. Satan really hopes you won't remember the way he could not get off your lap.

Mammon:

You tugged at his robes and tested the material between your fingers, not really registering the fact that you were pinching his skin along side. Well, you did notice at first, but you have long since succumbed to the drunken haze and are just entirely focused on the way his clothes feel in your hands. Mammon didn't mind indulging in your curiosity. It is, after all, a very new side to you that he hasn't seen before. One that you probably kept very closely tied up inside. And now it was released, so no matter what you do, Mammon will not stop you.

You grabbed the edges of his robes and pulled. His sash became undone, and for whatever reason, Mammon has never felt more exposed. It felt…almost shameful that this excited him, because your gaze was empty of any heated wanting. You were powered by alcohol and curiosity.

"Where's the tag on this thing" Your breath, made heavier with the alcohol, wafted over his head. Maybe if Mammon held still long enough, you'll try and search for that tag in his pants next?

Leviathan:

Nothing. You were drunk out of your mind, and you were doing nothing. Well, Leviathan couldn't hope for a better result. At least like this, in this celebration that he's arranged, you won't ruin the atmosphere he so wanted. You're behaving, but just barely. If you so much as sighed too loudly, Leviathan will have you hanged outside the party doors. Make an example of you.

But how dare you. How dare you let your clothes fall open by a few centimeters. How dare you lick your lips as you caught every single drop of alcohol that slid past. How dare you swallow and make your throat bob, and let out a sigh that was just quiet enough to not break the rule he just made.

You've always been like this. Always intense in the way you presented yourself and yet never careless enough to truly let anyone catch you off guard. Leviathan could very well discipline you. It's well within his right, but that would require him approaching you, and perfect does not seek, it is sought after. And so, all he can do is watch as your fingers idly played with your glass cup.

Beelzebub:

While it was a shame Beelzebub wasn't allowed to make any special mixes for the bar, he will admit, it's fun to catch your shot glass when you slid it his way, fill it up with your choice of beverage, and slide it right back. There weren't any words, you didn't make a big deal out of his being here. It made him feel like a fleeting shadow, of sorts. He was here, at a party that he was probably invited to but forgot, blending in as if he both belonged and yet didn't.

Beelzebub idly chewed on a straw as the music continued to thrum through his body. He wasn't really listening, more focused on the way your tongue moved the ice around for hidden drops of your drink. It took a few seconds for him to realize your glass was back in his hand. Out of boredom, Beelzebub put his straw in the ice and blew hot air in. When there was enough water, Beelzebub noisily slurped it up.

You somehow heard and looked back to him, eyes lightly glazed over. If he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend you were looking at him with heated interested rather than exasperation. He couldn't help but chuckle and wave his straw at you with his lips.

Lucifer:

You haven't stopped touching Lucifer's face. A finger over the bridge of his nose, a caress on his cheek, turning him this way and that just to watch the way his curls bounced against his skin, smoothing hands under his jaw before reaching back and pinching his ears. It didn't annoy him, but it was certainly more than he ever expected. Though, to be fair, he also wasn't expecting you to get drunk. Tipsy yes, but drunk was another matter entirely. Lucifer will remember to prepare something for you when you wake up with the inevitable hangover.

But, for now, Lucifer leaned into your hands as you silently memorized his skin. He didn't mind. He wasn't planning on doing much of anything besides watching his little…family go about their celebration with zest. He did mind a little when he heard the heavy breathing of them behind him, but since you didn't say anything, he won't say anything as well.

Before Lucifer could take a small nip at your fingers, you had found your way into his hair. Tingles scaled down his scalp and over his spine, resting right at the base of his hips. He closed his eyes, if only to savor the feeling further. He ready to fall asleep when you guided his head to your shoulder. Bury your fingers into his hair, or into his bleeding wings, it bring warmth to him all the same.

Asmodeus:

Being who he is, a celebration is never complete without an orgy of some variety, and that doesn't change even while you're present. But, after going through a few glasses, you said you wanted some peace and quiet to enjoy the rest of your drinks, and so he promised you that you will get exactly what you want, in only ten minutes.

And so, instead of bringing his current row of lovers to the edge of ecstasy and then drawing back to have them wanting for more, he spoiled them. He gave them exactly what they wanted, drove them past the peak again, and again, and again, without any shred of mercy. All the while silencing them with his tongue.

And, as he promised, everything was silent save for the music once the ten minutes have passed. Asmodeus was nowhere near satisfied when he sat next to you, but the drink you offered him got his heart near to full bursting. He nearly split the table in two when you glided behind him, gathered his hair, and began to tie it back up. Simple gestures, that's all they were, and it had him wanting to bit into his own knuckles from how squishy his insides felt.

Belphegor:

Only half of Belphegor's torso was actually on the plush chair, the rest of his body was splayed on the floor because he couldn't be bothered to hold any posture.

Perhaps out of boredom, perhaps a small bit of cruelty within you, he wouldn't know, you reach out a leg and kicked his chair right from under his back. It slid out and Belphegor's entire body crumpled to the floor like a lifeless ragdoll. You snorted and slammed your drink down on the table, pounding on your chest as you coughed. A part of him wanted to glare, he was comfy where he was but…

He will admit, this was doing something for him. Putting aside the fact that the floor was kinda comfy in it's own way, it does give him a fun little fantasy to play around with, and probably jack off to later. He's on the floor, clothes spread open and barely hiding his bits while you sit in your chair, pointing and laughing at the mess you've made of him. You lightly pushed at him with a foot, probably asking him to get up, but his dick was convinced that you were rubbing delicious salt in the throbbing wound.