Chapter Text
For all their two decades of blissful marriage, Wally has remained a literal beanstalk of an imp. He participates just as enthusiastically in chowing down family meals, yet apparently he’s incapable of putting on a single pound.
“I say, I say, I think my brain burns through all the calories!” he likes to joke, rapping his fist on his noggin before (fittingly) getting back to doodling a new schematic on the scrap of paper next to his dinner plate.
For Verosika, it’s been the opposite. Bringing her two darling children into existence has left its mark on her body, and so has indulging her long-suppressed appetite in the wake of her long and illustrious musical career. Her breasts sag (a little asymmetrically, too), her chin has doubled, her legs are dimpled, and her belly bulges out and folds over itself.
She wears all her body’s new embellishments with pride. She is twice, maybe even more than twice the succubus she used to be.
And she means that in every sense of the phrase, in the best way possible.
When you’re a succubus or an incubus, how you appear and how you are perceived is a huge deal. Especially if you’re among the number in Asmodeus’s employ, travelling up top to seduce weaker-willed humans to the sin of lust. Humans, particularly, can have very strong preferences when it comes to how their partners look.
Even though those days are gone; even though she’s 40-something and happily married to Coco and no longer has to flirt with the living to make her living (though c’mon, sometimes it’s still fun to mess around with humans), Apple still can’t help but feel like she ought to be more concerned with the appearance of her body.
She’s aging well - her hair still retains its golden-blonde sheen and her rose-hued skin still appears full and healthy.
Apple has grown a muffin top these days too; her stomach is no longer flat like it used to be. Granted, it was always a bit on the soft side, never blatantly toned like Coco’s or Kiki’s, but it was flat. And now it isn’t. Now it sticks out a bit.
Most of the time she feels alright about her little gut that she can just cup in her hands.
But sometimes she feels just a little bit less-than-alright about it. Sometimes she considers hitting the gym with her ever-athletic bae, but then the idea of rigorously working out doesn’t seem that worth it.
She tos and fros about it, those times when insecurities simmer away in the back of her mind.
But thank Asmodeus for Coco, reminding her when she needs it that being comfortable in your own body is what matters most, that all the fuss about ‘mandatory slimness’ is bullshit and that the MILF look is definitely in and definitely hot.
And thank all the sins and stars for the gentle kisses and squeezes her sweetheart gives her tummy when they’re curled up on the couch or under the covers late at night.
“Verosika said that I’d unlocked the dad bod without actually becoming a dad,” Ace grouses, rummaging in the fridge for a bottle of beer. “I dunno how to feel about that.”
“Are you sayin’ you do want a kid then?” Josh teases.
Ace closes the fridge door and levels Josh a deadpan look. “Do you?”
They stare each other down for a good half minute, then both burst out laughing.
It’s a fun idea to entertain sometimes, and being uncles to Verosika & Wally’s two darling terrors has certainly been a rewarding, eye-opening experience - but Ace and Josh are honestly ambivalent about actually raising a child of their own. Their afterlife together is fulfilling already, a kid might be a nice-to-have but not a necessity, y’know?
Ace pops the top off his beer with his fangs and sips from the bottle, leaning against the railing of their apartment balcony and taking in the diamondesque skyline of Lust’s Crystal City.
A cheerfully generic 80s tune starts to softly echo through the apartment.
“Oh, fucking hell, Josh,” Ace whines with no real heat behind it. “This song again?”
“Mister beerbelly, beerbelly,” Josh croons along with Paul Simon, strolling up behind his partner and reaching out to gently fondle at the bit of paunchy midriff visible under his cropped singlet.
“Oi.” Ace whips his arms up to redirect Josh’s - he may have softened around the middle but his arms and chest are still very visibly muscular - but instead of playfully pushing his husband away he clasps Josh’s hands instead, and manoeuvres him into a swaying slow dance.
“Aw, no, c’mon,” Josh chuckles with a groan. “You know I can’t dance like this.”
“Revenge, lovey.” Ace smirks back.
“It’s the wrong dance for this sort of song.”
“Should’a thought about that before you started playing it.”
“Be careful, I might go all Radio Demon on ya if you call meeee Allll…"
Their mock-snark abating, they continue to dance, their middle-aged incubi bodies pressed close together.
Milky used to be the chubby one of their posse. She isn’t the only one now, of course, with how the passing of the years have changed everyone’s bodies, but she was The Original - and she likes to tease Verosika about trying to “steal her thunder” every so often.
Kiki was the bombshell - slender, lean, with a roguish glint in her eye and a drop dead gorgeous face that could make the toughest men, women, and others all crumble before her.
Kat was the quiet one, skinny and mop-topped and mysteriously introverted in the way that was said to attract girls (and guys and enbys alike). Verosika had joked, back when the posse was newly formed, that Kat probably had the highest body count out of all of them, which they neither confirmed nor denied.
If there has been one constant through the years among the body types of Verosika’s posse, it’s them. Milky is still a stout shortstack, Kiki is still lithe, and Kat is still wiry and shaggy-haired and twinkish and still hasn’t told anyone their body count.
Aside from a few details like hair colour, the trio could very, very easily pass for their younger selves.
Twenty or so years ago, the posse (plus Wally) gathered for a housewarming. Kiki had just moved into her new digs and wanted to show it off.
And of course, when someone’s new place has a swimming pool, you bring your swimsuits and throw a succubi pool party.
The posse took a photo to commemorate the event, all sandwiched together to fit in frame, clad in risqué swimwear and their skin still wet from swimming. The pic went on all their Sinstagrams, flaunting their picture-perfect bods with pride because they were everything that their world said they should be.
Today they’ve gathered for another housewarming. Milky’s moved into a new McMansion in the Crystal City, and what do you know, she’s got a pool now too. A really big one, with a diving board and a spillover spa.
This calls for another pool party.
Wally, shirtless and lanky as ever, tends to the barbeque, educating a befuddled looking Josh and an attentive Vortex on the finer points of grilling an authentic hellhog ribeye. Ace and Milky are bickering over her preference for sweeter alcoholic brews - rum, cider, jungle juice - while she sets up an ice cream buffet in the shade of an umbrella.
Apple and Coco cuddle in the hot tub, their hands gently kneeding at each other’s middles; Coco’s firm and fit, Apple’s doughier. Verosika, Kiki, and Kat alternate between swimming slow easy laps and leaning up against the edge of the pool making lazy chat with whoever is closest. Verosika’s stomach squishes against the mosaic tiles as she pulls herself up a bit higher, adjusting the strap of her bikini, flirting sweetly with Wally just enough to make her old partners-in-crime cringe.
Later, when Lust’s blue sun has set and Asmodeus’s main strip is lit up in all its lascivious glory, when Milky has pushed Ace off the diving board at least once and dinner and dessert have been served, they’ll bunch up together for another commemorative photo. They might have to form two rows to all fit in frame now, but hey, there’s some fun poses they could throw in that way!
And they’ll share the pics on all their Sinstagrams again, showing off their varied, personally-perfect figures with pride.