#vee-babydoll

[cringefailvox]

alastor's exuberantly performative "sweetheart" that he only whips out when he's being annoying as fuck + vox's maddeningly condescending "sweetheart" that's the most indifferent misogyny you've ever heard + val's syrupy & intimate "sweetheart" that has hooked more than one unlucky bastard into falling in love with him = velvette starts carrying around a rolled-up newspaper to smack the shit out of whichever annoying fuck of the hour is pet naming her this time

[potionorchard]

i'd die and go to heaven (like good heaven not hh's heaven) if you drew any valentino x velvette..... like maybe her on his lap... or her holding onto the white fluff around his neck... BUT ANYTHING REALLY

As you wish!

But okay... what if Episode 2's mess happened because Val went to Velvette's department to whine and moan at her and she just... ignored him for two minutes to do more work?

[tune-on-in-folks]

I was at work all day, so this was written in like an hour. Enjoy the shameless smut.

Tags/Warnings: Valentino has a single line, fingering, p in v, fem!reader, Vox is a little shit, overstimulation, oral, this genuinely makes no sense, porn with some plot. Word Count: 2,068

Vox had an image to uphold. That's what he told you, the reason he gave you, for why his business partners didn't know about you. Why your existence as his significant other seemed moot. So you respected that even if it hurt. Until today, in which you couldn’t help but call out to him as he passed.

Vox was entering a meeting with Velvette and Valentino when he passed by you.

“Vox!” You called, catching his attention.

He turned to you, smiling softly. Forgetting that he was in the presence of the other Vees.

“Hey, babydoll.” He greets, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.

Your heart skips a beat, not having expected him to kiss you. You return the kiss, deepening it slightly despite your audience.

“Ohoho, what do we have here?” Valentino’s voice broke through the spell Vox had cast on you.

Velvette smirked, “seems to me that Vox has something he hasn't told us.”

Vox pulls away, his eyes wide with panic as he realizes he just kissed you in public. Not only that, he kissed you in front of the other Vees. He straightened up, brushing off his suit. He looked from you to the other two Overlords, back to you again.

He leaned in, “When I’m done with this meeting I expect an apology.”

You were about to object but he closed the door to the office behind him. You scowled, glaring at the door in annoyance. Why should you have to apologize to him? He was the one who kissed you! Thoroughly annoyed, you head back to your own office to finish up your work for the day.

You stretch, having been typing up a report for the last hour. You hit submit, feeling satisfied you had gotten tomorrow’s work done ahead of time. You thought back to a little bit ago, Vox having kissed you. You were still miffed that he wanted you to apologize. You pack up your stuff for the night, heading towards the elevators. Your VoxTek issued apartment awaiting you a few floors up.

You open your door, setting down your bag before kicking off your shoes. You go further into the apartment, stopping as you see Vox pacing impatiently in your living room. He turns to you as you enter, his long strides eating up the space between the two of you.

“Hello-omph!” You try to greet your lover only for him to slam his lips against yours.

Vox’s hands made quick work of your belt, unzipping and unbuttoning your pants. He pulled them down your frame, eliciting a gasp of surprise from you.

“V-vox!” You gasp, watching him settle onto his knees in front of you. “What are you-?”

He spreads your legs, meeting your gaze, his pupils blown wide with lust. You gulp, already feeling yourself getting wet at how forward he was being.

“Is this..because of earlier?” You ask slightly hesitantly, unsure of how to take his actions.

He spreads your legs slightly more, keeping a strong grip on your hips as he leans forward. You gasp, your eyes fluttering as his tongue swirls around your clit.

“Half an hour…” He mutters against your skin, “I had to endure their relentless teasing for half an hour.”

You bite your lip, your eyes on him as he leans in again, sucking your clit into his mouth. You moan softly, unable to keep it in as he laps at your slit. Your breathing was getting slightly heavier, confusion running through you.

“Baby?” You manage to breathe out, slightly concerned for him.

Vox doesn’t respond, his mouth closing around your clit again. His fingers slip inside of you, curling up into your g-spot. You whine, your eyes closing.

“Oh fuck.” You whisper, feeling an orgasm steadily climbing. “Fuck, Vox.”

He hums against you. “For every insult I’m going to give you an orgasm.”

You gasp, “you… you kissed me!”

Your objection was solid. After all, he had been the one to initiate the kiss. As far as you were concerned, he still wanted you to apologize for earlier. His fingers quicken, his mouth never letting up against your clit. Your moans were getting louder, the pleasure building.

The coil snaps, sending you off the edge, your release coating his screen. Vox removed his fingers, lapping up your release. His tongue replaced his fingers, fucking into you.

“Oh fuck, that’s not fair!” You object, your eyes fluttering open. “Your tongue is unfair. Actually, this whole thing is unfair!”

He smirks against you, having to pull back to reply, “You’re right. I kissed you.” He finally acknowledges.

“Thank-” A moan interrupted your words as he closed his mouth around your clit again, his fingers slipping back inside you.

You were still sensitive from your first orgasm, and his continued assault wasn’t helping as you steadily climbed up towards a second release.

“Vox!” You whine, grinding down against his face and hand. “I shouldn’t be getting punished for your mistake!”

He hummed, the vibration from it sending you off the edge again. Your walls spasmed around his fingers, not letting them go as he tried to pull them away. Your body relaxed enough to release him after a moment. He stood, his hands reaching for his pants. You wobbled slightly, reaching out to grasp his biceps to keep yourself upright.

“Is this a punishment?” He challenged, shoving his pants down, his boxers following.

You swallow, your eyes falling to his cock. “You kissed me.”

You could only repeat the truth, helpless as he guided you back towards the couch. You were confused, unsure if he wanted you to apologize or not. But his asking you if this was a punishment had you confused.

 He pulled you into another desperate kiss, before turning you around and bending you over the edge of the couch. He positioned himself between your legs, sinking into your dripping wet folds. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him made you whimper, your hips rolling back against him.

“Yes I did.” He acknowledges again, rolling his hips slowly.

“I… I shouldn’t be getting punished for the teasing you endured. You brought that onto yourself.”

He chuckled, his pace growing a little bit quicker, relishing in the way your walls squeezed around his cock. “And I ask you again, babydoll. Is this punishment?”

You grip the couch tightly, your eyes squeezing shut again as he begins to pound into you from behind. Your ability to think was being affected and he knew it too.

“Vox.” You moan softly, the sounds of him pounding into you filling the room.

“Yes, doll?” He asks, his hand slipping around you so he could rub at your clit.

“Fuck!” You cry out.

He leaned forward, resting his head against your shoulder as he fucked you, his eyes fluttering shut at how tightly your walls squeezed his cock. He thrust up as you leaned forward, still shaking from your second release. His cock hit right against your g-spot before brushing even deeper inside you. The sensation sent you rolling into another release, your body overly sensitive.

He hissed through clenched teeth as he fucked you through it. “Shit baby, you’re so tight.”

You could only moan in reply, your arms collapsing beneath you. Vox’s pace quickened, his hips slapping into you hard and rough.

“Oh damn…” He groaned, pressing as deep into you as he could as he came.

He stilled after a moment, catching his breath. In the momentary reprieve you caught your own breath, thinking that he was done. Vox shifted, pulling you up with him.

“Shit… fuck… oh!” You gasp, your eyes widening as his cock slid ever deeper inside you.

You could feel him getting hard again, his hand wrapping around your throat. Your back was pressed against his chest, his breathing slightly ragged.

“This isn’t punishment, doll.” He mutters, beginning to fuck you once again.

The sensation was sinful, unlike anything else you had experienced. “Vox, please.” You whimper, “I’m too sensitive.”

He pressed a kiss against your cheek, his pace speeding up again. “Oh yeah? Then use our safeword.”

You groan, annoyance flaring through you despite the immense pleasure you were experiencing. “Ass…hole.”

He laughs, the sound crisp and captivating, making your walls flutter around his length. You bite your lip, your hands moving to hold onto his arm. You press his hand a bit tighter around your neck, moaning at the sensation of him squeezing it lightly.

“Shit, baby, you like that?” He asks, knocking your legs wider.

You moan, nodding as all rational thought leaves your brain. His thrusts pick up, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at a blur. His other hand wraps around your waist, slipping in-between your legs to rub at your clit. You gasp, crying out at the sensation, your body yelling in discontent as you cum yet again. Tears bite at the corners of your eyes, a sob escaping your chest. Vox was slamming into you, fucking you like his very life depended on it.

“Please.” You sob, your tears falling down onto his hand as he squeezed your neck softly.

Vox waited, expecting you to use your safeword, “One more baby. Can you do one more?”

You shake your head, your legs giving out from underneath you suddenly.

“Fuck.” Vox hissed, his grip tightening around you to keep you upright.

He was chasing his own release, torn between stopping for your sake, and cumming again. You still hadn’t used your safeword, which he was listening eagerly for, afraid he was pushing you too far.

“We can stop-”

You shake your head again, your nails digging sharply into his arm. Despite the overstimulation, you didn’t want him to stop.

“No…” You whimper, walls squeezing around him again. “More…”

Vox’s eyes widened, but he kept his pace. He wondered if your body was too tired to give you another orgasm. His hips stuttered as he approached his incoming release.

“Come on baby, give me one more.” He murmured, his fingers circling your clit with a feather light touch that had your walls jumping around him. “One more to celebrate us, hmm?”

You whine, his touch too much as you crash into a final orgasm.

“Fuccck, just like that!” Vox praised, slamming into you a final time as he came again.

He pulled out of your pussy a moment later, his hand dropping from your neck. His seed leaked from you, dripping onto the floor. Vox stepped forward, picking you up into a bridal carry before you could fall.

He carted you to your room where he laid your exhausted body down onto your bed. Your eyes closed, exhaustion dragging down on you, making you sleepy. He left the room, returning a moment later to clean you up. The warm wet rag had you crying out, his gentle touch too much.

“Shhh… We’re done, baby. You did so good for me.” He pulls away, tossing the rag somewhere as he climbs into bed with you.

You were faintly aware of Vox taking off the rest of your clothes, his own following. He pulls you into his arms, allowing you to nuzzle against him.

He was quiet for a moment before asking, “How do you feel about letting the entirety of Hell know?”

“Hmmm?” You whine, not sure what he was talking about.

He clarified quietly, “About us, doll. I figured, I love you so much that I don’t care that Valentino and Velvette know. Hell, I don’t care that they were teasing me as ruthlessly as they were. Because I know that you’re mine.”

“Too much talking.” You mutter, half asleep against him. “Tell me tomorrow.”

He chuckles, brushing your hair out of your face. He presses a kiss against your forehead.

“I was just saying, I love you.”

You hum again, just on the edge of sleep, “I love you too.”

Vox watches you for a few moments, noting how your body relaxed against him. Your breathing slows as you fall asleep. He closed his own eyes, pulling a blanket over the both of you. He would ask you again tomorrow, and apologize for pushing you as far as he did. He decided he’d take you out on an official, public, date to make it up to you. Especially since you still seemed confused. He chuckled, smiling to himself as he fell asleep.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 5: Bondage

Summary: You were only concerned about the possible injuries your boyfriend may face, you wouldn't dare question his power. However, he doesn't see it quite that way. Warnings: Bondage, P in V sex, cum, the reader has a vagina, mentions of cock, pet name usage. MDNI, 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption. - Apologies for the shorter fic today, I am traveling. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @macabr3-barbi3 Their Kinktober post today literally made me so crazy I screamed and wanted to read more. GO CHECK THIS BEAUTIFUL HUMAN OUT!

You shouldn’t have mentioned it. Really and truly a mistake on your part to question the strength of your egomaniac boyfriend. Vox, the “all-seeing” and charasmatic leader of the Vees, was…to put it lightly, very self-conscious. So, when visiting him on his lunch break, you had the small inkling of the idea to ask him how strong the wires were that fed into his televised head from his monitors. 

It was a simple question really, you had been worried that they may tug on his head painfully or maybe they could get loose and damage something. You had done nothing wrong but be a loving and concered girlfriend. At least, that is what you thought in the moment. In reality, Vox had taken it as a sign of a dent against his strong display of power; how dare you insult the integreity of his creations, the strength of him even. Those wires fed him information on every unfortunate being in Hell and to inquire as to their power could simply not stand. 

And so, here you were, tied one limb to each corner of his expansive desk by those very wires as Vox teased your weeping cunt with the tip of his heavy cock. 

“Dollface, we haven’t even started yet, and you're drenching this desk.” Continuing to drag his finger across your slit, you couldn’t help the lewd moan that escaped your lips as you pulled slightly on the restraints. You could feel the weight of his dragging across the slick that spilled from your cunt.

“Fuck Vox, that ain’t gonna—“

“It’s gonna fit dollface…you’re gonna take me so well. Gonna fill that tight—shit!”

Slowly sliding his cock in, he stretched your needy hole. Both of your moaning both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved.

“You tell me when you want me to move.” 

You nodded rapidly, fisting random papers underneath you in a fit of pleasure and pain. “Please…just move please.”

Slowly thrusting, taking his time to draw out every noise, he relished in the sight below him. All tied up and pretty, moaning and writhing in pleasure all because of him, his power and creations. The thoughts alone nearly had Vox busting inside you, mumbling incoherently as he picked up the pace, driving deeper, the walls of your cunt squeezing onto him for dear life. The added weight and pace was becoming nearly too much. 

“Go on baby. Tell me….tell me how good I feel….”

“Fuck, only you—holy shit—just you.” 

“You loved being tied up like this mhmm….like my little needy whore?”

You felt the coil in your stomach snap as you cry his lover’s name. Surely, the whole office, maybe even Hell had heard you by now….just as Vox wanted. Cumming nearly seconds later, spilling hot ropes of cum into you, Vox collapsed slouched on top of you with a heavy moan. Both parties covered in a layer of thin sweat, panting heavily and overcome with arousal. Walking his hands forward till both of his arms caged you in on the desk; pushing his cum back into you as he drew himself ontop of you panting body. 

“Now babydoll…wanna test the strength of anything else I have?”

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Heaven Spent

℣ Pairing: Vox X angelic!reader

℣ Summary: A naïve angel descends to Hell looking for Vagina. Finds Vox instead.

℣ Content notes: Voyeurism, first time for everything, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, guided masturbation, Vox being Vox, pet names: mostly sweetheart, babydoll and baby, reader is a girl, reader has a pussy and tits, reader has a name and it's a fucking stupid one.

Now has a sequel: Hell 2 Pay!

You weren’t a real exorcist, not really. You didn’t pass the wingspan requirement for a start, or, as the Lieutenant never ceased to remind you, the strength requirements. You were never getting selected into one of the lucky squads who got to go down to Hell and do battle with demons. But you had begged to join, and everyone needed someone to sweep the floors and do laundry, and so, that was you, swooping through the exorcist barracks with a mop and bucket while everyone around you trained in combat.

Most of the exorcists didn’t even acknowledge your existence. You were invisible, inaudible, the help. The big exception to the rule was Lieutenant’s strongest soldier, Vagina. You would see her training tirelessly, on the practice grounds after all the others had left, and bring her a fresh towel and a pitcher of iced lemonade. She would smile at you. She knew your name. When you started talking about something that interested you, she didn’t tell you to go away or walk off.

In all of Heaven, Vagina was the closest thing you had to a friend.

And then, one day, the squads had come back from their battles with the forces of Hell, and she had been gone. No-one had wanted to look you in the eye, no-one even mentioned her name. Gone. Dead? No, Vagina was Heaven’s strongest soldier, you’d heard Adam say as much. There was no way she could be dead.

Had they left her behind? Every day your thoughts were plagued by thoughts of Vagina stuck behind enemy lines, Hell’s forces doing terrible things to her. And of course the Lieutenant wouldn’t send more exorcists after her; how could she risk Heaven’s forces for the wellbeing of a single soldier? But you? You were disposable. You were no asset to Adam’s forces, your wings so malformed that you could barely fly, and with Vagina gone there wasn’t anyone who would miss you on a personal level.

With your access to the exorcists’ laundry, it was easy to assemble a makeshift uniform for yourself, a spare sword strapped to your waist as you lined up with the departing squads. The masks disguised everyone’s faces, so no-one looked twice at you. You filtered out the chatter of the exorcists around you as you watched the portal to Hell open, a glowing circle with a core of deep red.

You would find Vagina, and return to Heaven with her, useful at last. Maybe the Lieutenant would be so impressed that she would make you a full exorcist.

Vox slurped his kale and spirulina smoothie as he watched the descending horde of angels through fifteen distinct drone feeds. This year’s purge was uncharacteristically quiet in the Vee tower; Valentino was doing some sort of romantic make-up dinner with one of his sluts and Velvette was organizing some sort of augmented reality event where sinners ran the length of the city taking selfies without getting killed by exorcists, which left Vox holding down the fort.

One of the systems gave a beep as it picked up an anomaly. Now that, that was interesting. It looked like the pack had a straggler this year. Vox picked a drone to fly closer, opening a channel to Velvette as he did so.

“-you better not be taking the piss, Vox. I’m sort of a tiny bit busy here, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hear me out, this could be big,” said Vox, and Velvette gave a snort but went quiet. “Any of your fuckheads out near the west side of the pentagram?”

One of your wings was bigger than the other. That was just how it was, just a little defect that made it difficult to fly, and almost impossible to fly long distances. When you had asked about it, Saint Peter had patted you on the shoulder and told you that everyone was special in different ways. And you had accepted that. Some people got beautiful singing voices, or brains that could do mathematics faster than anyone else’s, and you got one wing that was smaller than the other, primary feathers growing in with a slight curl that meant your flight was wobbly and exhausting.

And that was just part of God’s plan.

What was not part of God’s plan, it seemed, was for you to keep up with the squads of exorcists descending to Hell. They sped up as they passed through the portal, the pack quickly speeding up to a pace that your wings could no longer carry you at. You found yourself drifting behind, panting as you beat your wings to correct your uneven path.

Strangely, you didn’t see the forces of Hell rising to do battle, but you supposed you were inexperienced in this sort of thing. The last time you’d even swung a sword had been at the exorcist tryouts. Giving up on catching up with the pack, you hung back, your wingbeats slowing as you surveyed the city below from your wobbly vantage point. You should find somewhere to hide, you reasoned, until the battle was over and you could look for Vagina safely.

Finding Vagina in Hell was harder than you would have guessed. Even after you shed your exorcist disguise and folded your wings away, people didn’t really want to talk to you, and when you started asking about Vagina, faces turned covetous, and people started asking for money. Which, of course, you didn’t have. You didn’t need money in Heaven, why would people want it in Hell? But everywhere you asked, the answer was the same. If you wanted to know about Vagina, you needed money. And if you wanted money, well, you needed a job.

That's how you found yourself in a line of sinners three miles long, for an open audition for a spokesperson for something called Angelic Security, a subdivision of something called VoxTek. You weren’t going for the audition itself, but a sinner had offered you money to queue for them, and queuing was a pretty morally decent, angel-appropriate act. You knew how to queue. You could queue for days.

You were queuing when a fish demon with a VoxTek nametag walked past, on a video call with someone important, the other side of the conversation blaring out the speakers of his tablet as he held it up to his face.

“Listen, do you have any idea how fucking busy I am today? Whose crackpot idea was this anyway? No, don't answer that, I don't fucking care. Just pick the three at the front and, uh, that one, no, the hot one with the gray skin.”

“Whatever you say, sir.” The fish demon glanced over his shoulder at you, making a beckoning gesture as the man on the other end cut the call.

You pointed to your chest with a silent me? and the fish demon nodded, walking on without a backwards look as you trailed along after him.

“Actually, I was holding a spot in the line for someone else, they were going to pay me money, if you could let me borrow a phone, I could -” you scurried to keep up. “-you know I don't think it's really fair that someone’s paid me to keep their place and now I'm going in with you, isn't that against the rules?”

“Look, lady.” The fish demon held out a hand as he waved the other candidates over, to grumbling from the other people in the line. “I'm not paid enough to deal with your drama shit, save it for the casting director.”

“Are you really going to leave all those people out there?” you asked quietly as the assistant let you through the security gate at the front of the building. “Some of them have been waiting for days. It doesn’t seem fair.”

The man shrugged. “What can I say? Welcome to Hell.”

Out of a lingering sense of guilt, you let the three women who had been in the front of the line go into the audition first, so that when you were called up, no-one was waiting. The casting director turned out to be the tall demon in the shirtsleeves and sweater vest that the dour fish had been talking to on his tablet. He had a large, rectangular head, and was handsome, in a striking sort of way.

He was sat on a bench against the wall of the audition room, elbows on his knees, and he looked up as you came in, watching you walk, an eyebrow raised.

“H-hey.” You gave a little wave. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You see, I was saving a space in the line for someone else, but the assistant told me to come in here, and, you see, I was hoping that maybe I could phone the person, and, um, maybe they could do the audition?”

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” The television headed demon gave you a sidelong grin.

“I'm really sorry, but I don't.” You bit your lip, mentally preparing for a lie. “You see, I'm kind of new here.”

“Oh yeah? How long since you, y'know?” He made a vague hand gesture, getting to his feet.

Oh, darn. You had no idea what a good number would be here. You furrowed your brow. So if the universe was about ten thousand years old, and the average human lived to one hundred and twenty years old… a reasonable amount of time for a newcomer to have been in Hell was…

“Oh, not long. Only about three hundred years.” You plastered a big smile over your face, hoping Mr Television bought your deception.

“Oh, only three hundred you say? Wow, you are new, huh.” He smiled back at you, and you did a quick internal fist pump. Success! You were a natural liar! At this rate, you'd be able to find Vagina and be out of Hell in no time flat.

“My name's Vox, by the way. Like the company.” He snapped his fingers, and the tagline VOXTEK: TRUST US scrolled across the big screen on the wall of the audition room. He tilted his head. “What's yours?”

“My name?” You blinked. It had been a very long time since you'd had to introduce yourself to anyone not already aware of your name, and everybody in Hell just seemed to enjoy making up rude epithets for you, so you hadn't bothered with introductions. “My name's, uh, Areola. Like the -” you paused, unbuttoning your shirt.

Vox stared at you, frozen for a second before he raised a hand to cover yours, halting your struggling fingers. “You don't need to whip them out, dollface. I know what a boob is.”

“Y-you do?” you stammered, part of you thankful and a smaller, more sinful part disappointed, the touch of his fingertips on your hand like fire against your nerves. He was probably down here for one of the carnal sins, the sins of the flesh Chastity was always warning the younger angels about. “Of-of course you do, silly me.”

“Can I call you Ari?”

You’d always hoped the other angels would give you a nickname like that. Like Vagina was called Vaggie by her squadmates. But everyone in Heaven who called you by any name at all called you Areola, even Vagina did. To have Vox just give you a nickname like this, apropos of nothing, seemed too good to be true.

“Y-yeah! I’d like that. A lot, actually.” You swallowed. “You’re the first person who’s been nice to me here,” you admitted.

Vox shrugged. “I’m a nice guy, most of the time. I can afford to be. You want the job?”

“What?” You blinked. “B-but I didn’t audition. I w-wasn’t even in the line.”

“It’s not a hard job, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Vox, holding out his hand. “You take a few photos, record a few infomercials, and bam, you’re done! You won’t even have to run your own social media profiles. And the money-”

“I’m really sorry, Vox, I-I can’t.” You took a step backwards, hands raised. “I-I should go. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”

You ran.

You ran without thinking, heart in your throat, past the security doors, away. Taking something that wasn’t yours was stealing, even if someone offered it to you. You should never have gone inside. Hell was terrible and confusing, and you wished that Vagina was here. She would know what to do. She would have said something tough, and made Vox do the right thing. She wouldn’t have run away. You stopped, panting for breath, and realized you had no idea where you were. You were down an alley, a crowd of curious sinners behind you.

“Hey, it’s that bitch who cut the line.”

“Thinks she’s better than us.”

Oh, this was bad. You took a step back, reaching for your angelic sword with a trembling hand.

Velvette’s face looked down at Vox from the big screen on the wall where the tagline had scrolled, thirty feet wide. “That’s seriously who you’re gonna hire as the new Angelic Security mascot? You have to be fucking shitting me.”

Vox rolled his eyes. “Velvette, she is a real, literal fucking angel. I challenge you to think of a more appropriate pick.”

“It’s your subsidiary, so whatever.” Velvette pursed her lips. “I just hope you know that I’m not costuming her dumpy arse.”

“Your concerns are duly noted,” said Vox, redirecting his attention from the call to his nearby drones. “Now pipe down. I need to focus.”

Vox gave a small sigh as he transferred a small portion of his conscious mind to the drone that hung in the air over the dispersing line of would-be auditions, looking for your face. He flitted from security camera to security camera, searching for a telltale flash of white and grey.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to be so naive. Exorcists, from what data he had on them, were hardened killers, who regarded sinners as scum to be cleaned up.

Vox hadn’t spent a lot of time with exorcists, but he had spent a lot of time with killers, and his guts told him you weren’t one. Which was weird, but he could work with that. He just needed to make sure that no-one else got to you before he did.

“Alleyway behind the old munitions factory,” said Velvette from above him, sounding bored. “There’s three pissed off old slags about to shiv your new pet; someone’s streaming it.”

Fuck. Vox grimaced, switching his attention to the feed. Sure enough, there you were, fear on your face as three taller sinners made you back up against a wall, your hands out, pleading. “I’m gonna cut the signal. Make sure nothing goes viral.”

Travel by lightning was fast, but it wasn’t instantaneous. Vox manifested in a flash of ozone to see two dead sinners, you with your sword through the guts of a third. Your eyes were glowing gold, unseeing and dangerous, a splatter of blood across your face.

“Ari?” Vox ventured, keeping his voice as low and calming as he could.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, oh-” You yanked the sword from the guts of the woman who’d been about to stab you, and oh goodness that was a lot of blood that was gushing out of her. You looked in horror at Vox. “I didn’t-” you started, then stopped. The one person in this place who had been kind to you, and he had to see you like this? These sinners weren’t even soldiers; they just looked like regular people, and granted they had tried to murder you, but that didn’t mean they deserved to die.

“Hey, babydoll. Easy, now.” Vox approached you his hands out, calming.

You were a murderer now; the police would catch you and you’d have to go to Hell jail. You didn’t want to go to Hell jail; the food was probably terrible and you’d never be able to find Vagina. The back of your throat hurt at the hopelessness of it all. You stared at Vox, your vision wobbling as tears formed.

“You’ll be okay, shit, uh, let’s get that big knife out of your hand-” Vox’s blue talons were on your fingers, prying them from the hilt of your sword as he moved in, and you resisted for a second before his coaxing moved you and you let go, surrendering the sword into Vox’s grasp as his other arm wrapped around you. “You’re gonna be okay, I got you.”

Pressing your face into the fuzzy material of Vox’s sweatervest, you gave a big, ugly sob. You clung to him as you cried, vaguely aware of his arm around you, his claws petting your hair. Oh, you’d ruined everything now. He probably thought you were pathetic.

“I’m really sorry,” you mumbled against his chest. “Y-you should probably hand me over to the police now, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Excuse me?” Vox’s tone was incredulous.

You sniffed, blinking more tears from your eyes. “You know, the police? Since I committed three murders?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Vox breathed, looking down at you, his claws carding through your hair. “There aren’t any police in Hell. Well, there are lots of cops in Hell, sure, but no police force.”

“B-but I just, I just-” you motioned to the bodies in the alleyway behind you. “How will I be punished?”

“Oh, fuck me, you’re adorable.” Vox covered his face with a hand. “You’ve had a long day, babydoll. Let me take you home, and you can have a bath, and a change of clothes, and maybe then we can talk about your problems, yeah? I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

No-one had ever been this nice to you, even in Heaven. Part of you wondered whether Vox was in Hell by mistake, and you nodded, slowly, face against his chest again as his hand moved to the small of your back.

“You’re bringing a fucking exorcist to our fucking living quarters?” Valentino’s eyebrow raised above the frames of his pink glasses. “Are you fucking stupid? Or just thinking with your dick?”

“Look, I’ve just gotta win her trust, okay” Vox leaned back, analyzing Valentino’s surroundings through the videofeed. He was in his studio, which was a good thing. There was also a visible lovebite on the exposed skin above Val’s second set of arms. Which was good; it meant Valentino and his on-off squeeze were on talking terms.

“So you can fuck her?” Valentino took a drag on his cigarette, pink smoke briefly clouding the lens of the camera.

“Uh, so she’ll fucking work with us.” Vox sighed heavily. “You have a one track fucking mind sometimes Val, I swear.”

“But you are gonna fuck her, aren’t you?” There was a gleam in Val’s eye now.

“First of all,” said Vox, holding up a finger, careful with his volume so that his words didn’t travel to you ensconced in your bubble bath in the next room. “I don’t recall putting you in charge of where I put my dick. And secondly, fuck you.”

Valentino laughed, good-natured. “Alright, papito.” He grinned, gold tooth flashing. “I’ll take my Angel out somewhere else tonight, you have fun with yours.”

They compared calendars before Vox closed the call, grumbling to himself. All things considered, it could have gone much worse- if Valentino hadn’t been in a good mood, he might have decided to be jealous and that would have been a pain in the ass. Valentino’s instincts weren’t wrong, either; the big moth had been around Vox for too long to not have picked up on his preferences. The combination of dangerous power and lack of worldliness just did something for him. And then there was your body.

Vox chanced a peek through the security cameras as you climbed out of the bath, a sneak preview, he told himself, growing hard in his pants as he took in the soft lines of your thighs, the crest of downy feathers that covered your pudenda, snowy white to match your hair. Fuck, but you looked soft all over, as if his hands would sink right into you. Vox cut the feed with a groan; if he kept on watching there was a good chance you’d walk in on him jacking off over the video, and that wasn’t really the impression he wanted to make. No, he needed to be trustworthy, a good guy, someone you felt you could work for. Someone you’d trust your soul to.

And Vox might be a voyeur, but he could keep it in his pants if he needed to. Business before pleasure.

Vox was right; the bath did help. Warm water cradled your body, the panic that had wracked you flowing out of you. You added bath salts, and bubbles, and stayed in there much longer than you really needed to, feeling the dirt that had accumulated on you since your descent into Hell float away. Vox’s tower was the only place you’d visited in Hell so far that had been clean, all shining chrome and expensive polished black granite. Finally, you climbed out, even your conscience feeling cleaner than it had when you had started, and grabbed a towel so fluffy that felt like it had been imported from Heaven.

The outfit that Vox had left for you was modest and well-fitting, a soft wool cardigan with a camisole and blouse to go underneath and a pleated a-line skirt that reached your mid-calf, all in eggshell colors that complemented your grey skin. Even the underwear was perfectly sized, and you tried not to think too hard about it- you were pretty sure that one of VoxTek’s subsidiaries was a fashion company of some sort, and Vox had probably guessed.

“Hey, Ari.” Vox gave you a smile as you stepped out, and you found yourself smiling back at him. “You feeling better? I ordered us Dim Sum.”

“I, uh, yeah. Thank you.” You pushed your hair behind your ear. “For everything.”

Vox’s smile only grew. Your plan had been to thank him for his help and leave, but he’d gone to the trouble of organizing you food already and leaving would be rude and the little steamed buns he was offering you smelled very good, so you found yourself sitting with him, listening to him talk about the food as he piled different items onto your plate. All of it was delicious.

“-and you need to try this one, it’s got the spicy shrimp paste, I don’t know how you are with spice, so it might come on a bit strong for you, but it’s worth it, trust me.”

You nodded, your reflexive oh no, I couldn’t dying on your lips as you smelled the bun, the delicate scent of the shrimp coupled with a dark, sweet undercurrent. You bit in, the gummy texture of the outer dumpling giving way to something coarser and more savory; perfectly cooked crustacean flesh that leaked juices when broken, in the paste that Vox had described, which imbued a richness and a sweetness both at once. It had a spice that began as an ache on the back of your tongue, and built and built upon itself, until you were salivating almost painfully and yet somehow wanting more. You closed your eyes, your jaw stopping to prolong the moment.

“So.” Vox picked his moment to lean in, face perilously close to yours. “What do you want, Ari?”

You, was your embarrassing, gut instinct response, thankfully stymied by your mouth full of dumpling. You chewed and swallowed, which gave you time to think. Vox was trustworthy. He’d been nothing but kind to you. He wanted to help. “I had- have a friend,” you said, feeling your pulse quicken. It was a risk, telling Vox. If he figured out that you were an angel, you’d be in big trouble. “She’s in Hell, somewhere. I’m looking for her.”

“I’m pretty good at finding people,” said Vox, his expression sympathetic. “Maybe I could help?”

You shook your head, the taste of the dumpling still lingering on your tongue. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much, and I’ve got no way to repay you. I don’t even have money.”

“I’m sure there’s a way we could help each other,” said Vox, unperturbed. “Money isn’t everything, after all. Let’s think about it, see what we come up with, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed Vox, nodding slowly. “You’re really nice to me,” you added, with a small frown.

“And is that a bad thing?” Vox asked, his screen tilting. He picked up the second of the shrimp paste dumplings with his chopsticks.

“No,” you admitted, quietly.

“Then,” said Vox, holding the dumpling out to you, not to your plate this time, but to your face. “You should accept it, yeah?”

Your face flushed from grey to white as you came to the realization that Vox’s intention was to hand feed you, a warm sensation in your stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Cupping your hands under the dumpling to ensure none spilled, you opened your mouth. Again the outer shell of the dumpling was gummy against your lips, and you held it gently between your teeth so that Vox could withdraw his chopsticks. He looked happy as you chewed, and you told yourself this was nothing untoward, simply the demon being a good host.

“We should watch a movie,” he said, chin in his hand as he watched you chew. “I’ll let you pick.”

Hell, it turned out, or at least Vox, had a much wider selection of titles than were available in Heaven, and you hesitated to pick. In the end, Vox quizzed you on what you’d seen and what your favorites were, and picked something out. His earlier demand, of accept it, let me be nice to you, stuck in your head, overriding doubts that you might have expressed. You’d been warned, in Heaven, about the dangers of fraternization. How two people, watching a movie together alone, could fall into sin. But you’d never done anything like that, and Vox seemed nice.

When Vox patted the sofa next to him, you hesitated, and so Vox grabbed the bucket of popcorn he’d made and placed it by his thigh, a barrier between you.

“Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

You looked at the popcorn. “It won’t stop us kissing,” you joked, a small smile.

“You can kiss me, if you like,” Vox returned your grin. “I won’t mind.”

He wasn’t joking, you realized, a surge of warmth through your core that caught you unguarded. “Isn’t that a sin?”

“Kissing?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “I’ve read like five, six versions of the bible and I don’t think any of them said shit about kissing.”

“Oh.” You swallowed, feeling your face turn from gray to white in a blush.

Vox didn’t do more than to open the possibility for you, but that possibility remained, playing at the periphery of your mind as you watched the movie with him, his arm looped easy round your shoulders, the bucket of popcorn the only chaperone stopping your hips from touching his. You could lean over, and just kiss him.

Waiting until he was engrossed in the film, his slim side profile showing to you, you leaned in, pressing your lips to the plastic of his screen’s casing. The material was smooth, the edges angular, and strangely warm.

“Heyy. What was that?” Vox tilted his head to you, an amused cast to his lips. When you didn’t answer his grin widened. “Did you just kiss me? In the middle of the movie?”

You tore your gaze from his, embarrassed. “Y-you said I could,” you protested, adding a belated, “sorry.”

“But kissing is usually a two-way thing,” said Vox, leaning in.

“I didn’t kiss your face,” you said, very factually.

“You didn’t,” agreed Vox, pushing a strand of hair back from your ear, the sharp edge of his talon tracing over sensitive skin. “So I won’t either.”

Vox leaned in, the bucket of popcorn chaperoning you threatening to topple as he drew his lips to your ear. The close proximity of his screen was enough to make your skin tingle, and you drew in a breath and held it, an uncomfortable pulse building between your legs as he took his time, breath hot over your neck and the shell of your ear. You didn’t dare tell him to hurry up, didn’t dare tell him to stop, not with how his mere proximity had you quivering, until at last you felt his lips, ghosting over your earlobe, teasing the soft flesh between them. Was it still a kiss, if his lips were now wrapped around a part of you, and sucking. Oh, Heavens. You bit back a noise, warmth pooling in your core as Vox’s tongue teased the circumference of your ear.

“Vox!” you squeaked, and he let you go, grinning.

“Try kissing my face next time. Or not, your choice.”

You went back to the movie, trying to tamp down the sinful thoughts that were spinning through your head. He didn’t deserve to be thought of lustfully like this. He was a really good guy- he was just trying to watch a movie with you and you were thinking lewd thoughts about him. You were an angel, for crying out loud: you were meant to be better than this!

His lips had felt so good, his tongue even better, a crackling spark that licked against your nerves. What would kissing his lips feel like? What would that tongue feel like, inside your mouth? Vox’s arm was back over your shoulders, his blue claws bright against the white of your blouse. You could touch his hand. Holding hands wasn’t sinful. People in Heaven held hands all the time. Hesitantly, you reached for his hand, your fingertips stroking from his wrist and over the back of his hand to his knuckles.

“You gonna kiss my hand next, babydoll?” asked Vox, his voice low and teasing.

“N-no,” you squeaked again, voice rising in pitch as your throat constricted.

Vox exhaled, glancing over at you, his thumb catching your exploring hand and stroking along your index finger. “Something the matter?”

Oh, all you could think about were the possibilities. Oh his lips on yours, his hand skating down over your shirt to encompass your breast. “I’m having sinful thoughts about you,” you confessed.

“Ohh?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “Lustful thoughts?”

Slowly, you nodded, shamefaced. “I’m really sorry. I know you’re just being a good host, and you don’t deserve me objectifying you…” you trailed off.

Vox just smiled. “I think I deserve to know exactly what lustful thoughts you were having, don’t you?”

“I was thinking about your fingers in my mouth,” you breathed out, though that was the least of your inner debauchery.

“Like this?” Vox asked, trailing blue talons up the side of your neck, over your jaw, and over your lips. You opened your mouth reflexively, and Vox slipped two fingers inside. Oh, fudge. Your eyes fluttered closed, a noise in your throat as Vox’s fingers explored, gentle as anything against the surface of your tongue, your cheek. “Were you thinking about them anywhere else?”

Face hot, you nodded, Vox’s fingers still inside your mouth, pulling at your lower lip slightly as he rocked his wrist back and forth.

“You gonna show me?” Vox asked, his voice still teasing, and with a shaking hand, you gestured to your own breasts, cupping them through the fabric of your blouse. The heat in your core was almost unbearable now, an embarrassing wetness pooling in the gusset of your panties.

“Get in my lap, babydoll,” said Vox, his voice soft as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, a string of spittle trailing from your lower lip as he did. “I wanna do all the things you were fantasizing about me doing.”

Oh, you wanted this, you wanted this. So badly that it was a pulsing ache, an insistent drumbeat between your thighs. “Th-this is definitely sinful,” you said, hesitating.

Vox made no move to force you, sitting back a little on the couch. “Does it matter?” he asked, his tone going from sultry to playful again. “We’re both damned, after all.”

“R-right.” You swallowed, cursing yourself for your earlier lie. He waited, quiet, the movie playing forgotten on the big screen in front of you, until you moved the popcorn bucket to the floor and climbed onto his lap, your skirt bunching up around your knees as you straddled his legs.

“Well, heyy there beautiful,” growled Vox, looking at you, a finger pushing a strand of hair from your forehead, and you felt your face break into a smile. He crossed his legs, one over the other, so that his top thigh was flush with the gusset of your panties, smirking at you when his leg made contact. “Sitting comfortably?”

“Your leg… feels nice…” you managed, lamely, struggling for words. The pressure felt exquisite, the folds of your labia squashing together in a way that made you profoundly aware of the pulsing between your legs.

“Oh yeah?” Vox didn’t tease, and you were grateful. “You wanna stay like that? You maybe wanna rock back and forth a bit?” As if to demonstrate, he pushed his thigh up between your legs, against your gusset, and moved it side to side. You found yourself giving a soft whimper at the sensation. “It’s okay, baby,” said Vox, his voice soft and coaxing. “You can rub against me.”

You shouldn’t, you knew. You knew you should climb out of Vox’s lap, leave the feeling of his thigh between your legs behind, ignore the slick pooling in your panties. You should apologize for taking advantage of his generosity as a host, for even thinking about using his body in such a sordid way. You didn’t, though. Instead you canted your hips back, grinding your sex against the tensed muscle of his leg, finding warmth and friction and pleasure.

A shameful little whimper escaped your lips, and you felt Vox’s eyes on you, intent. “You don’t mind?”

Vox looked pleased with himself. “I invited you here, didn’t I?” He reached to your chest, tracing the lines you had traced when you had cupped your own breasts, the sensation of his claws through the fabric of your shirt leaving a tingling in its wake. You rocked your hips again, finding a slow rhythm, the sensations seeming to layer one atop the other, Vox’s talons moving up again, circling first one of your nipples and then the other, bringing each one to a sensitive point. “Do you wanna get them out for me?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

He withdrew his hands and your skin seemed to ache at the lack of him. “Will you touch them, if I do?” you asked, your voice small.

“If you ask me to,” said Vox, hands smoothing over the fabric of your skirt, over your thighs. “Otherwise if you want, I can enjoy the show. You want me to touch them, Ari?”

He used your name, not an epithet, his eyes on yours, and you felt the flush that bloomed on your cheeks, the flutter in your chest joining the pulse between your thighs as you continued to pleasure yourself on Vox’s thigh, each slow movement of your hips grinding the juices that soaked your panties into Vox’s slacks. Fingers trembling, you unbuttoned your blouse to your navel, then unhooked your bra, letting the straps fall from your shoulders, leaving your breasts exposed, nipples peeking over the lacy edge of your camisole. “Please,” you answered, feeling very exposed considering how little you were showing.

Vox pulled down the edge of your camisole with one talon, admiring his handiwork with a grin before his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs tracing soft circles around your namesake, your areolae. You made a noise in your throat, grinding hard against Vox’s thigh, and Vox gave an answering growl.

“Is that a good noise, babydoll?” Vox asked, gravel in his voice now. “You like having me squeeze your tits as you rub your pussy on my leg, huh?”

Shamefaced, you nodded, and Vox leaned in, a shift in his grip on your breasts pulling a moan from you. You froze, uncertain, as Vox lowered his wide rectangular head to your chest. As he had with your ear, he paused before his lips touched the skin, already tender and puckered from his fingers.

You whimpered, heat pooling in your core as you ground yourself wantonly against his leg, wet fabric against wet fabric, and Vox groaned, his breath hot over your breast. “Good girl,” he murmured, taking your nipple between his lips and sucking.

No amount of Heavenly chastity infomercials could have prepared you for how your next moments felt; Vox’s mouth first on one breast, then the other, the gentle tug of his teeth, the electrical lash of his tongue, all of that competing with the feel of him between your legs as you rode his thigh, your rhythm ascending from steady grind to desperate canter as sensation built and built. You found yourself pleading, losing rhythm as you jerked against Vox’s thigh, answering moans from Vox vibrating through your flesh as he suckled at you, your world narrowing to that scant handful of sensations. You cried out, feeling something inside you seize, and your eyes fluttered closed, your hips stilling.

“Vox,” you squeaked, uncertain.

“Heyy. Hey hey hey.” Vox lifted his face from your breasts, pulling your torso flush with his, his arms around you, his legs uncrossing. “I’ve got you.”

As before, his embrace was a comfort, and you found yourself pressing your body against his, your eyes squeezing shut. “There’s something inside me, it just twitched, it’s still-”

You felt Vox’s body tense against yours, and he tilted his screen to look at you, an error message flashing up that he hastily dismissed. “Sweetheart,” he said. “You, uh, you mean to tell me that you don’t know what an orgasm feels like?”

Your eyes snapped open, your core still throbbing. “That was an orgasm?”

“Well, uh, your heart rate spiked, and your pupils are dilated and your blood pressure is dropping now,” said Vox. “So yeah, seems likely.”

“I’ve never-” You sank against Vox, feeling weak.

“You’re making me feel like a real piece of shit, you know that?” Vox pressed his palm against your back, rubbing circles. “Your first orgasm and I didn’t even fuckin' kiss you first.”

“You could kiss me now,” you said, peering up at him, shy.

Vox gave a bark of laughter, a grin creeping back onto his face. “That a request, babydoll?”

His tongue in your mouth felt as good as you’d feared it might.

Click here to read the sequel

[storm-angel989]

How the vees would react to Valentino teenage daughter getting piercings without their consent and even try to hide them? I'm thinking about Tracy from Thirteen while requesting this btw🙏

(thanks if you write it💞💞

Hi there,

I’m afraid I haven’t seen that movie- so this is what my brain came up with! I hope you like it!

<3 Mandy 

The painful throbbing in my earlobes was too much to ignore. Every shift of my long hair, every brush against my swollen skin brought me to the point of tears. I made the executive decision to skip water polo practice, feigning a stomachache. I texted my coach, jumped in the limo and slipped as quietly as I could up into my room. Safe inside, I locked the door before gingerly pulling my hair back as I stood in front of the mirror. 

Two bright red ear lobes shone in my reflection, the skin inflamed to the point where the two tiny diamond studs could barely be seen. Two weeks ago, I begged my father and mother to let me get my ears pierced. My mother, to her credit, seemed to think I was ready for the responsibility. My father, on the other hand, disagreed.

“Just hold off for now, babydoll, and I’ll take you to a professional at some point. But for now, I don’t think mixing pool water with a fresh piercing in the middle of your competition season is a good idea.” 

As much as I tried. As much as I pointed out that three other girls on the team- including my best friend- had recently gotten their ears done, I was met with a firm no. The next day at school, I complained to my friend while standing at my locker when a tap on my shoulder pulled my attention away. Behind me stood a girl I recognized briefly from the softball team. 

“I can pierce your ears. Ten bucks,” she offered with a grin. “Good earrings too. You in?”

I glanced to my friend who shrugged. Before I could answer, the girl continued.

“Meet me in the locker room in the back corner after practice, if you’re interested.” She continued before vanishing off into the crowd.

Against my better judgment, and joined by my friend, I ventured into the back of the locker room that evening after practice. A quick transfer of funds and two sharp pinches and I had two shining diamonds in my ears. My friend suggested keeping my hair down until they were healed enough for me to take the studs out. 

Now I wished I had listened to my father. I gingerly touched the hot skin and bright yellow liquid oozed out. My whole body hurt, and if I didn’t get this fixed soon, I wouldn’t be able to play in the game on Saturday. 

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I pulled my scrunchie out and let my hair cascade down just as the door opened. 

“Hey, sweetheart, it's Dad,” I heard my fathers voice say softly. “I got a call from your coach. Not feeling so great, huh?” 

“You can come in Daddy,” I replied glumly. “Yeah, not feeling so great.”

Watching his tall form move across the floor, I was doubly glad that this man was my dad. The rest of the world recognized him as the overlord of lust and depravity, and as scary as he could be when he was mad, I knew he loved me. 

“What hurts?” He asked as he laid a cool hand against my forehead. “You feel warm, baby. Why don’t we get you to bed?” 

“Daddy, I have to tell you something,” I replied nervously. “I…” I pulled back my hair to reveal my ears, wincing as I did, “pierced my ears at school. Please don’t be mad.”

Alarm spread across his features. “You did not.” 

I nodded and he leaned forward. I braced for the yelling, the screaming and the anger I had heard him throw at his employees. 

To my surprise, he sighed.

“Well, those look infected. Explains why you don’t feel so good. Come on baby, let’s get you a doctor and have him take a look.” 

“Wait, you’re not mad?” I asked as I stood up and followed him out the door.

“I’m disappointed. But we can talk about that after we make sure you don’t have some sort of serious infection. Tell me, where did you get them done?”

His lack of fury took me by surprise. I relayed the story as we stepped onto the elevator. A pained expression crossed his face.

“You…just let her pierce your ears? For ten dollars? Eres jodidamente estúpida, ninita?” He asked, frustration dripping from his voice. “Honey, I taught you better than that. I know I did.”

The door opened and I trailed behind him with my head down as I followed him to the nurses office in his studio. Somehow, his disappointment towards me stung more than I thought the anger would. 

One painful hour later, the now bright green studs were in the garbage and my ears had been warm compressed, cleaned and I had been given a round of IV antibiotics.  I trudged behind my father as I walked into the apartment.

Velvette gave me a curious look. “Well? How’d that go?”

I closed my eyes as embarrassment flushed my features. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh no,” my father said quickly as he put a hand on my shoulder. “Go see your Aunt and Uncle. Tell them what you did.” 

I hung my head and mumbled out the story. To my surprise, Aunt Velvette laughed.

“Oh Valentino. Trust me, if that's the worst that reader does, you’re a lucky Dad. Stop being so hard on her.” She patted the cushion next to her and I sat down. She looked at my ears and smiled.

“I did something similar when I was your age. Don’t worry too much about it, it will heal.”

“But also learn a lesson from it? Like don’t let weird bathroom classmates pierce your ears,” Vox added. 

I crossed my arms and leaned back. 

My father walked over and bent over, brushed my hair back and planted a kiss on my forehead. “If you want to go to your room you can. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just love you mi amore, and you scared me. Learn a lesson from this, so next time you don’t need to be poked with another needle. And I will take you somewhere to get them done right next time, okay?” He stood up and pulled out his phone. “Can I convince you to stay out with us? I’ll order pizza.” 

“So, I’m not grounded?” I asked hopefully.

My father laughed. “Oh. No. You are. Until next Sunday. And you heard the doc- no pool time for at least two weeks.” 

I sank into the couch. Part of me wanted to be mad, but the other part of me knew my fathers punishment this time was totally and completely fair. 

“You’ll tell Mom then?” I asked, crossing my fingers behind my back. 

My father patted my head. “Oh no. No Noooo. You can do that when she gets home.” He patted my head. “Your decision. You learn from the consequences of your actions, babydoll.”

[onesidedradiostatic]

(In reference to that one ask about Vox being bald) Headcanon that, since it's sorta said that Velvette is supposed to be a doll demon and we see her in a new hairstyle every 2 seconds, her hair is actually a series of interchangeable wigs that she switches out like that one Monster High series of dolls you could put together and mismatch. She's truly as bald as the rest of them :P

(prev)

LMAOOOO, was that really "said" though? I thought it was just a hc/theory, I mean I guess there's the "babydoll" nickname so fair, I do kinda subscribe to it anyways but that's funny LMAOOOO, vees are all bald as fuck

[saytrrose]

So if the Vees are likely a polyamorous couple, seeing how they call eachother “babydoll” “vox’s boy toy” “my dear” and the word “Vee” is slang for a polyamorous couple, specifically a throuple..

And Vox asked Alastor to join the Vees..

Was bro trying to ask him out 😭

[nburkhardt]

I’m painting tiny pokemon and thinking about pokemon au. Enjoy ✨

Eddie finding an egg during his adventure and being so excited about it. But not for himself, no no, he has the perfect opportunity to finally ask Steve out.

They’ve been flirting with each other for months, running into each other at gyms and training sessions. At first Eddie couldn’t stand the guy and his little show off, Primarina. Always finding ways to one up him and Aragon, his Decidueye (at that time they were still in their second stages; Brionne and Dartrix.)

But as he continued his gym challenge, all the run ins and training together, Eddie couldn’t help but start to really like Steve. Babydoll and Aragon kept up the tiny rivalry but the rest of their teams became best friends.

So, really feelings we’re going to happen eventually.

And he’s been so nervous to take the next step, could tell Steve’s also nervous. Always stopping himself from saying anything. Wanting but waiting until the courage to really hit either of them.

“Gotta be a sign!” He holds the egg carefully to his chest as he gets up, “Stevie will take such good care of you”

Gene snickering behind him, while Loretta floats around him. “Stop laughing you jerks. This is totally going to work!”

Pulling his backpack around, he gently puts the egg in before zipping it up and continuing on. Gene and Loretta in their balls, while Aragorn keeps him company on their way to the next town.

It’s only a day later when Steve catches up with him.

Before Eddie can even get the egg out of his backpack, Steve’s holding one out to him. A blush on his face, Vee’s tail swaying with a nodding head. Babydoll peeking from behind Steve.

It makes him blink a few times, making sure it’s real and not a dream. “Stevie? Wha-”

“I uh, found this and wanted to give it to you and to maybe, ask you out?”

Eddie’s face hurts and his heart is beating fast, “I’d love to, Stevie. And I’d be honored to have it, also be honored if you’d take this little one?” Pulling the egg out and mirroring Steve by holding it out towards him.

Steve’s blush grows and so does his smile, Babydoll brushes a fin against the egg and Vee letting out happy noises.

They exchange the eggs and enjoy the rest of their day together. Eating lunch together, watching on as their pokemon rest and play together. Trading tips to taking care of the eggs, wondering what pokemon will hatch.

It wasn’t the official date, but it was something and Eddie loved it.

(Steve’s egg hatches and is pleasantly surprised to see a Mimikyu, a shy little one who decides to sit on his shoulder much like how Vee is.)

(Eddie’s egg hatches and a full of energy Pumpkaboo is in his face. A small ball of energy, that he named Ozzie.)

~

I love them. They’re my babies 🥰

Under the cut is pictures of the pokes for those who don’t know them. Also the taglist🫡 (and also pic of what I’m painting!)

@spectrum-spectre @sunnythefriendlyghost @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @tboyeddie @strangersteddierthings

And my tiny painting!

[valscigarette]

Summary: Val gets so overstimulated by his own prehensile dick that his demonic form comes out. inspired by this post by @shushposting!

Tags: Vox/Val, Val/Angel, Val/Velvette, Poly Vees, Dubious Consent, Overstimulation, Toxic Relationship, Smut

See AO3 or DM me for more detailed warnings!

WC: 7.9k | AO3

-

By now, Vox has the ritual down to a science. Every so often, just infrequently enough to avoid suspicion, he taps a couple drops of Velvette's love potion into Val's morning Four Loko and jumpstarts the program for his desktop camera feeds to follow Valentino for the day. It’s easy. Val never fails to leave his drink unattended at some point over breakfast and no attendant would dare point out Vox spiking his drink. Even Kitty, ever watchful, says nothing. 

“I'm busy today, just so you know,” Vox lies while Valentino curses out their toaster one morning. “Back-to-back meetings. Try not to have any emergencies.”

He pulls the bottle of potion from his pocket and draws up the usual two drop dose, leaving only a thin veneer of the glossy liquid at the bottom. It always amazes him how potent it is; the formula is derived from Val's own pheromones, after all. The love potion dissolves easily into the acidic drink, and, when a quick glance confirma Val is still fighting to get his bread back, Vox tips the remainder of the bottle in as well. It's hardly anything, he reasons. There's no sense in leaving so little behind. 

As he slips the empty container back into his blazer, Val turns around with a frown twisted across his face. “Vox, the fucking toaster is broken again!”

“Did you hear me? At all?” Vox asks, already getting up to assist with the not broken toaster. He leans into Val's space as he pulls the lever back up. It was knocked off track by Val's struggling, but his breakfast is salvageable and Vox can have the toaster replaced after the fact. “You're on your own today. Don't call me unless the tower is burning down.”

Once Vox plates up the toast, Val swans back to the table to spread spiked butter over it. Generally, Vox can't remember a second of the time he's known Valentino and seen him sober, and it no longer surprises him how much Val takes in a single day. So long as the studio keeps pumping out blockbusters and Val stays too high to notice a little extra kick in his drink, Vox is content to let him bury his days in a foggy quagmire of his own making. Val's less of a bitch the higher he is, anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, your schedule’s tight, Papi's got more important things to do than me,” Val drawls. He slugs back a heavy gulp of his Four Loko and doesn't so much as twitch. “Tell me, Vox, when did you get so fucking boring?”

Vox takes one of Val's hands and rubs his knuckles, a charming grin cutting into his screen. “These meetings keep the lights on, babydoll.” His own face mirrors back at him hundreds of times in Val's compound eyes, dancing as his gaze shifts over the reflections. “If anything goes wrong, take it up with Velvette. I'm sure she'd be,” Vox stops, his fans whirring like an inhale to cool his rapidly heating processors, “happy to assist. Provided you leave her models alone.” He raises Val's hand to his screen for a kiss, and doesn't begrudge Val a flirtatious caress along the bottom of his screen as he pulls away. 

Val groans low in the back of his throat, but it's too early in the morning for him to put up much of a fight. He finishes his breakfast in relative peace, scrolling through Sinstagram, texting Angel Dust, and occasionally slurping his drink, none the wiser about how long the day ahead will be for him. Vox can barely contain himself long enough to see Val out the door of the kitchenette, still nursing his Four Loko as he lights a cigarette.

The second he can drop the pretense of his own standard morning routine, Vox zaps into the nearest security camera. The electrical currents carry him down to his office, where a set of screens on the right side of his desk follow Val through the hallways of Vee Tower exactly as planned. His day is empty. There are no meetings. All Vox has to attend to is his own libido as he watches the love potion slowly rip Val’s self control to pieces. 

Its effects first make themselves known on the elevator to the studio. A simple twitch is all it is. Val looks down at his crotch, mildly surprised by the semi, but overall nonplussed as he finishes the last of his drink. He’s probably watching porn on his phone, Vox thinks, and can blame the early tinges of arousal on it. 

Valentino bursts into the studio like a model entering a runway, his wings a cape and his smoke a dramatic cloud, and the plain irritation on his face only enhances the beauty of his harsh angles. One of Vox’s cameras, outfitted with a zoom lens, closes in on the shape of his cock trapped in his tight white bell bottoms. Shifting shadows hint that the eager thing is already squirming, probably mere minutes from plunging into Val's own hole to sate its drug induced need. Vox cups himself in sympathy, stroking his thumb along the length of his bulge. 

“Angel,” Val hisses. His gravelly voice carries across the studio, distracting Angel Dust from the makeup artist turning a black eye into a smokey shadow look. “I need to see you in your dressing room.”

With a flurry of assurances to the cosmetician, Angel follows Val to his dressing room, unable to get a single questioning word past his lips before Val bends him over his vanity, yanks down his panties, and shimmies his own pants down just enough to let his swollen, prehensile dick out. The side angle from a visible security camera is perfect for admiring it until Val hunches over Angel, guiding himself into place and humming in pleasure as the slut beneath him squeaks. At that, Vox switches to a hidden camera among Angel’s makeup brushes, which allows him to watch Val’s tongue loll out and antennae quiver as he pounds Angel so hard the vanity dents the drywall.

“Fuck, fuck, Val,” Angel whimpers, scrabbling for purchase against the smooth glass top until Val pins all four of his wrists with two hands of his own. “Val, please, I’m gonna-”

Val shoves his head down against the vanity to shut him up, evidently not in the mood to hear his begging. “Just a couple minutes,” he coos, barely audible to the microphones in the room over the wet slap of his balls against Angel’s ass. “You can take it.”

None of the cameras are positioned appropriately for Vox to see the bulge Val is undoubtedly making in Angel’s stomach, but he can forgive it when this is hardly going to be Valentino’s last orgasm of the day. It’s just his first. Watching Val’s thrusts lose rhythm, Angel’s eyes cross, convinces Vox to unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly, and shove his slacks down to his knees. He knows he has all the time in the world to take care of himself. 

Angel doesn’t finish, but does keen in at an obnoxious pitch when Val does. A rich, velvety moan accompanies the final few thrusts, each hard enough to bruise and pushing more jizz to spill down Angel’s quaking thighs. Moments later, he's still panting and shivering when Val pulls out to continue jerking his now glistening cock, either unwilling or unable to stop pleasuring himself as Angel weakly pulls against the hands still pinning him in place. 

“Clean yourself up before the shoot,” Val snaps. Coming has done nothing for him, and he must realize the sort of day he’s in for. “If we fall behind schedule because you’re a disgusting cumslut, I’ll make you regret it, Angelcakes.”

“Got it, Val,” Angel hiccups.

As soon as Val lets go of him, he stumbles out of the dressing room to get to the studio shower. Left alone, Valentino plops down on the couch and lets his head fall back. The whir of Vox’s cameras zooming in on him must get his attention, because he opens one eye and bares his teeth. 

“Thought you were too busy for me,” he bitches, legs twitching apart as he pets a vein down the side of his cock, visibly trying to keep its interest in his hand so it doesn’t go searching for something better, like Val’s dripping pussy behind it. 

In answer, Vox strokes himself faster and waits for Val to realize he can’t walk out into the studio touching himself like a desperate pervert. No one’s coming to help him out with his little problem, and nothing would help anyway except to let the love potion run its course. 

“You better not be saving this to your spank bank, Voxxy,” Val spits, his back arching as his writhing dick finally escapes his grasp and presses into his hole. “You ffffuck- fucking asshole.”

After a few indulgent minutes, he clenches his fists, wipes the sweat off his brow, and eases his pants back up his hips, though their tightness does little to obscure the lewd act happening beneath. His staff ought to know better than to acknowledge it, though, when Valentino perches in his director’s chair with his legs crossed and calls action. 

For the first half of the day, Val puts up an admirable fight against the overstimulation of being fucked by his own dick non-stop. He disguises his several orgasms behind cursed insults and bites so deep into the heel of his hand that his teeth come away dark with blood. Vox doesn’t get himself off as he watches, but occasionally manages to get a few emails sent off when Val gets himself together enough to complain about the costumes or the performances. 

Vox knows things are getting interesting when Val calls for a lunch break. The mere idea is laughable, unless one happens to know it’s an excuse to clear the set so he can handle whatever meltdown possesses him on a given day. Practically the second he’s alone, Val calls Vox.

It takes a lot of willpower, but Vox lets it ring all the way to voicemail, eyes locked on the obscene movement in Val’s visibly soaked pants. He doesn’t answer the second time either. He also doesn’t feel guilty when Val throws his phone into a wall out of pure frustration. After all, Vox did warn him he would be too busy to help today.

“You little shit,” Val whines in the general direction of a camera, wobbly, like he might cry. “You can’t leave me like this Vox, get your flat fucking ass up here and help me!”

Truly, Vox calls Velvette out of the kindness in his heart. She answers for him right away, her end of the line chaotic with the background of her workshop, though she’s pristinely put together herself. “What, Vox?”

“I gave Val some love potion this morning,” he tells her, politely maintaining a high enough camera angle so as not to flash her with his own body or Valentino’s. “Great work on that formula by the way, my dear.” She grins with the compliment, a perfect opportunity for Vox to offer, “He could use a break if you’re up for it.”

Her smile drops as quickly as it appeared. “I’m not playing ring-around-the-cock-cage,” she snarks.

“Of course not.” Vox placates her by texting over a link to his live feeds of Valentino. “But I know you like him all pathetic, so I thought I’d give you a go.”

Velvette harrumphs and considers his proposition, before relenting with a long-suffering sigh as if he’s asked some gargantuan favor of her by offering up an overstimulated, submissive Valentino on a platter. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

“Whatever you please, darling,” he says. “Your wish is my command. Now, go put on a show, I’ll be watching.”

“Nasty prick.”

She flips him off, face wrinkled in faux-disgust before hanging up the call. On looking back at his screens, Vox finds Val spread out on the studio floor, massaging the base of his dick that isn’t buried in his pussy, back arched at the overwhelming sensations. The deep v of his low-cut shirt falls open as he thrashes to occasionally show one of his heart-shaped nipples, pierced and nearly as flushed as his cheeks with excitement. It takes minutes for Velvette to appear, but they drag on forever when Vox has such a delectable sight to enjoy.

“Come on, Val,” Velvette says, her voice ringing out before the cameras catch her walking up to his prone form on the ground. “You shut down the whole studio for this?” she asks. One of her sharp heels kicks Val’s hand away from his crotch, allowing her a better view of his situation. “This is embarrassing for you. You seriously can’t control your needy dick long enough to get through the day?”

To his credit, Val manages to speak between the wet hitches of his breath. “It’s not my fault,” he spits out. Excess drool puddles around his lips and tongue, slurring his speech. “I can’t make it stop, and fucking Vox won’t pick up his phone!” He lifts his hips toward Velvette but she backs away before he can touch her.

“If you only want Vox, then…” Velvette teases.

In an instant, Val is falling over himself to take it back, practically snapping his neck with how quickly he springs up on his knees. “No, princesa, I’m happy to see you!” Vox’s cock leaks at the desperation in Val's tone, the tremor in his hands as he claws up the hem of Velvette’s skirt. “Don’t go. Daddy’ll make it worth your while, don’t you worry your pretty head-”

“Shut up,” Velvette interjects. “Just- take your pants off and try not to make a fucking mess.” 

She helps Val kick off his shoes so they can strip away his bottoms, exposing him to the cold studio air. Several of Vox's cameras whirr as they focus on the million dollar view of Val's mindless, almost tentacle-like cock cruelly fucking him past him past the oversensitivity. Oh, he's going to be crying before Velvette finishes with him. 

The morning's buildup of tension surges in Vox's stomach as Velvette straddles Valentino, perfectly positioned to grind against the base of his cock and fondle his pretty nipples. A chirping trill breaks from his mouth when she pinched one between her fingers. “If you want a break,” she huffs, “we have to work for it. You know that, babes.”

Val moans a few slurred words that sound enough like an agreement for Velvette to slice off her panties to get them out of the way. Later, she'll absolutely invoice Vox their cost. At present, his cameras perfectly capture her sopping pussy rutting against Valentino. They're set to record automatically when he runs the program tracking Val, but he has to double check that he'll be able to watch the two of them forever. Velvette's exquisite heat is enough to tempt Val's cock out of himself and into her as well, giving Vox yet another gorgeous shot to obsess over for weeks before it plunges into her.

“Goddammit, Valentino!” she yelps, digging her nails into his chest. 

At the same time, Val's hips jerk up to help him bury his dick in her cunt, the poor thing helplessly repeating “Thank you Velvette, thank you, thank you,” like he's forgotten how to say anything else. Dozens of cameras strewn about the studio give Vox every shot he could want, including a down-angled lens that lets him see both the place where Val disappears onto Velvette, and Val's swollen pussy that twitches every time he bottoms out in her. Pearls of come bead from between his lips and drip to the floor, and it's the realization of how much Val has already come that pushes Vox over the edge. 

He's alone, but still bites the inside of his cheek to quiet his moan as he spills over his hand, the suddenness of it only intensifying the sensations. On screen, Val has found the perfect angle to drive fucked out little “ah”s from Velvette's painted lips on every thrust. His legs betray him. They kick out, restless and useless, a perfect tell that he's past his limit by midday. 

“So perfect, so fucking tight,” Val praises. His lower set of hands find purchase on her hips to aid each fluid motion and the pressure makes Velvette groan. “My pretty dolly.”

“Please shut the fuck up,” she snarls. “I'll cut this thing off and hang it like a trophy in my office, don't test me.”

Contrary to her intentions, this drags another breathless orgasm from him, noticeable only from her offended gasp and the cum frothing around his cock as he continues fucking her. “Y-you can have it, amor,” he chokes out, “it'll grow back.”

“You wish. It's the only worthwhile thing about you.” Velvette's cruelty always impresses Vox, and strikes one of Val's many kinks. “Now hurry up and get me off, I have actual work to get done today.”

When it takes him too long to work up the coordination, she grabs the upper hand not somehow still clinging to his cigarette holder, spits on his slender fingers, and forces it into place so that she can still grind her clit into his palm even if he goes limp beneath her. Their hands make the swell in Velvette's lower stomach look even more obscene, visibly twitching as Val's devilish cock moves inside her. 

“Finally. For a porn overlord, you're useless with a pussy, you know.” Her words don't match the climbing urgency of her motions, but do fit Val's downright sloppy rhythm that he'll be ashamed of when Vox plays this back for him later. “Vox fucks me better.”

“You fucking bitch!” Val cries. 

Although Vox planned on waiting a while for his next round, Velvette's hard-earned praise has him shifting in his seat with pavlovian interest. In his second of distraction, the slight enrages Val enough to flip himself and Velvette over with a heavy thud. The cameras fuzz with the power radiating off him, not long enough for Vox to register it as anything more than his own malfunctioning systems as he wraps a hand around himself once more. 

Velvette moans under Valentino, who has found the energy to put his back into each harsh thrust and growl, “I'll show you who fucks better.”

The spurt of jealousy surpasses his exhaustion and frustration enough for Val to drill her into the floor, each motion rhythmic and punishing in the way only a professional cam achieve, one of his many hands busy circling her clit between them.

“I can do this all day, Mami.” Every time Val thrusts into her, Velvette slides up the marble floor, until she wraps her legs around his waist for purchase. “All-” he interrupts himself with a whine, “all night, too.”

He's fucking her too hard for Velvette to get out a response, but her wordless moans say enough. She probably meant to rile him up. It worked beautifully, and Vox files away a mental note to buy her the most extravagant gift basket in the entire Pride ring tomorrow. Beads of sweat roll down Val's back like invitations for Vox's tongue, and each whimper in symphony with Velvette beckons him to join them but he promised himself he'd wait. It'll be so much better to deal with Val tonight after an entire day of this.

“Mi princesa.” Val's voice is equal parts breathless and honey-sweet, as saccharine as his dopamine riddled drool that Vox can see soaking stains into Velvette's top. “So beautiful, you, shit, you drive me fucking crazy.”

She doesn't reply so much as arch into him, nails digging into his skin once more and drawing enticing furrows of blood down the expanse of his back, mean tips of her heels beating bruises into either side of his spine with each vicious thrust. On another day, when they have the time, Vox could easily spend hours watching the two of them fuck like they're fighting. Today he only has one goal. 

“Don't stop,” Velvette gasps. Her body has gone mostly pliant beneath Val, drowning in the sensation too much to keep giving as good as she gets. “Fucking hell-”

Val presses himself as tightly against her as he can when he comes. His muscles seize, thrown in perfect relief under the calculated, cold studio lights, then go lax as he collapses in a gaggle of uncoordinated limbs on top of her. Still, his cock keeps working on its own. Judging by her whimpers, Vox missed Velvette's orgasm under the beauty of Val's, though he doesn't mind when she's still exhaling pleased groans every couple seconds. 

“Okay, that's enough,” she sighs. 

Muffling his voice in her shoulder isn't enough to disguise Valentino's sob. 

“Cut it out,” Velvette tells him, sharper this time, and shoves at Val's shoulders until he props himself up enough for her to wiggle from beneath him. Her biggest challenge is getting away from his ruthless cock, relentlessly trying to pound into her, but the advantage of being a separate person allows her to get back to her feet as Val's two excessive loads of spend drip down her legs.

Without the reprieve she grants, it takes seconds for Val's dick to find its way back to his hole. His legs collapse almost immediately. The tears come back full force when Val falls on his ass, overcome by his own rare disinterest with sex and the prospect that, like Vox, Velvette will make him deal with his libido on his own. 

“Please don't go,” Val trills, unironically crawling across the floor to Velvette because his legs must be useless. Vox earmarks this section of the footage too. It’s not often he gets to see Val in a state so desperate, so soon. “I’ll do whatever you want! Anything for mi princesa, my beautiful Vel, always so good to me and Vox.” He reaches her inches from the doorway, clumsily petting whatever parts of her he can reach in the distraction of his nonexistent refractory period. If he notices her pushing his hands away, he doesn’t care, continuing to offer, “as much head as you want, my face was fucking made for sitting on,” with no appreciation for her waning patience.

“Piss off!” she finally shouts, kicking Val away with a heel to the chest that will surely bruise.

Now that seduction has failed, Val growls at a pitch subaudible to most sinners, and somehow draws himself up on wobbly, fawn-like legs. He hardly looks threatening, still at the mercy of his own traitorous body, but Vox still snaps screenshots off every camera. “Do you know how many bitches would kill to breathe the same air as me?” If he expects to frighten Velvette into submission, Valentino has another thing coming. “You don’t get to abandon me like this, amorcita.”

“Funny,” Velvette sniffs, “I don’t actually care.”

Before he can issue another empty threat, Velvette whips out her cell phone to take several crisp, high-definition shots that Vox knows he’ll want framed even before they upload to the crowd. Thousands of pixels catch all the glory of Val’s wrecked state: his fur matted by a mixture of his own fluids, Velvette’s, and Angel’s; his cheeks flushed so bright he looks made up; his mouth slack with a suffering that could easily be mistaken for pleasure; his cock a noticeable fiend blurred by its motion. Oh, Vox could kiss Velvette right now. Instead he rewards himself by speeding up his jerking off.

“Interrupt my work day, Val, see what I do with these,” she taunts, waving around her spoils. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Val roars, though he doesn’t make any move to take her phone or stop her from leaving. “Fucking ungrateful, irritating cocktease!” As Velvette exits the studio, his shouting follows her down the corridor, all the way to the elevator. “You’re dead, princesa! FUCKING DEAD!”

She laughs as the elevator doors close.

Vox happily returns his attention to Val, who cannot distract himself forever by fussing at someone who’s not on the same level of the building anymore. The brief reprieve for his overworked pussy seems to have made things worse, reducing Val to a weeping mess as his surge of adrenaline wanes and he fights to get to the set bed before his knees give out beneath him. Honestly, Vox couldn’t have designed this better himself. The studio is the perfect place for Val to take repose as his own cock relentlessly wrecks him. 

He drags a pillow to his face and bites it to muffle the sobbing moans that return with a vengeance now that Val is giving into the helpless state he’s found himself in. What a pretty picture he paints, a magnificent masterpiece of debauchery that makes Vox understand the appeal of the sloppy scenes Val shoots all day. They’d make millions if he wasn’t such a priss about losing control of his dick, because the Sistine Chapel itself couldn’t compare to the tableau Val presents on days like these.

Another orgasm wrenches a scream from Val’s throat, his limbs jerking and the wet spot beneath him on the bed spreading faster than his legs on any-damn-day of the week. Vox has to congratulate himself, as Val’s crying turns to borderline hyperventilating, on picking such delightful business partners. Nothing in Hell compares to this, nor could it come close. And it’s all for him. He knows Val is waiting for Vox to come fix his problem, as always, and it’s a heady power the demon would never consider allowing anyone else except for maybe Velvette- who wouldn’t have put Love Potion in Val’s Four Loko this morning, but might’ve been more sympathetic if she didn’t get off on her participation in Vox’s scheme.

“Vooox,” Val whimpers, hardly discernible through the pillow and its feathery bite wound. The allure of his name in that voice has Vox leaning forward in his chair and squeezing the base of his cock so he doesn’t come from the acknowledgement alone. “Vox…?”

He switches his main camera, a few feet away but in need of an adjustment he knows Val will catch the motion of, given the wanton way he looks at the sea of cameras around him. All it takes a small movement, a few inches to angle the lens higher, and Val lets out a defeated laugh. 

“You, mmm, motherfucker,” he giggles, or perhaps sobs. Vox can see every tear to drip down Val’s face, but there’s a humorous bend to his tone like he reaches when he’s grasping at straws for any semblance of control. It typically takes him all day to break this far, but Vox did tip extra into his drink to empty the bottle, and he can’t find it in himself to fault Val for his own mistake. Not when it turns out this well, that is. “Better be coming to help me, or I’ll- I’ll-”

Vox zaps into his desk and reemerges from the camera he fixed. All the footage runs in the background of his processors, but he won’t complain about the chance to see Val up close. His screens, no matter how high definition, can't capture the scent of sweat, smoke, and cum permeating the air, or the sound of the silk sheets rasping against the waterproof cover beneath them.

“Aw, Val,” he teases, crackling with all the faux-sugar that normally falls under his partner’s purview. “You’ll what?”

Anything coherent disappears into Val’s crying. From the edge of the mattress, Vox can run his claw-tipped hands up Val’s strong thighs, nudging them further apart for a better look at his predicament. The skin on his cock is as pink and raw as his pussy by now from his fruitless attempts at shutting down his libido, as if he truly believed that a go at anyone else would be enough to stifle his need. 

“You’re no better than the rest of your whores, poor thing,” Vox tuts. He sinks into the bed enough to nearly lose his balance when he climbs on, but quickly braces himself with one hand on Val’s ass and the other on his lower back, between his bottom set of shoulder blades. Faintly sparkling sweat sticks to him, a side effect of the potion. But the barest contact drives Val wild, bucking as if he’s not sure whether he wants the attention he’s been demanding or if even Vox’s comparatively innocent touch is beyond the pail. “I can’t wait to show you all the footage later. Don’t worry- I probably won’t release it.” He squeezes Val’s ass to make him shudder. “This is just for me, right, honey?”

Val nods, trembling like he might be close again. “One more, then…?”

He sounds so pathetic, so tired, that Vox might’ve felt bad for him if he wasn’t leaking through his slacks. “Dunno about that. Your cage’s down in my room, and, honestly,” Vox trails off, shifting to pin Val’s legs with his own to stop them from twitching shut, “you already shut down the studio, and I’m not marking today as a loss.”

He knows well enough that his fingers alone won’t be enough to coax Val’s dick out of place, but he still traces the swollen point of connection where it disappears into his cunt, constantly rolling and grinding with more mechanical precision than Vox’s best designed machines. The joke really is on whatever God stuck them down here: nothing could be more heavenly than this.

“Do you know how many times you’ve come today?” Vox asks. “I counted a round dozen, but I might’ve missed some.” He rocks his hips into Val, which is barely satisfying, but nonetheless triggers his cooling fans to top speed and wires a shock over his body. “What’s your single-day record, anyway? It’s higher than twenty, if I remember correctly.”

The implicit warning breaks through to Val. He shoves the pillow away and fights to prop himself up enough to tearfully beg, “Don’t, Papi, I can’t.”

“Sure you can!” With little more effort than swatting a fly, Vox summons his cables to encircle Val’s wrists and ankles, each pulled flat to the bed until the moth is spread out for him and unable to wiggle more than a couple inches in any direction. In the chaos, he runs a quick records search as well. “You did twenty-four, one on each hour, for a New Year’s special a couple decades back. But you’re not the record-holder.” Vox abandons him on the bed. “That would be your pet project, Angel Dust. Last Valentine’s Day, you got a round thirty out of him. We never released it, but I’ve got it all on camera in case we decide to.” He pats Val’s ankle affectionately. “You’re not letting that whore outdo you.”

“Vox.”

Pretending not to hear him, Vox finds Val’s director’s chair to drag over for a better view. Nothing changes in the moments his back is turned, but he can’t stand to miss a moment of the best show of Val’s career--especially not when he finds the seat of the chair still damp. 

“Calm the fuck down,” Vox assures once he’s perched at the foot of the bed, studying Val like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory in case his cameras fail. “Like you said, you were made for this. Cry all you want, sweetheart. I’m not here to help you.”

Either Val is worked up to the point that words are enough to send him into yet another orgasm, or Vox’s timing was perfect to the instant. It’s a victory either way. As Val babbles into the sheets, his wings begin to flutter and struggle too with the inescapable stimulation. Vox can’t strip his suit away fast enough, probably should have stripped it off before he came, but the combination of his dizzying hard-on and the pure filth of Val laid out in front of him make the layers unbearably warm.. 

“Fuck, if you could see yourself, Val.” Vox can’t decide whether it’s better to finish himself off now, and last longer when he gets around to fucking Val later, or if he should draw each climax out to its highest potential before letting himself enjoy them. “I’ve been nice. I always come to help when you can’t get ahold of yourself.” Choppy wheezing is music to his ears. “I’ve earned a front row ticket here, don’t you think? Raise those hips a little.” When Val doesn’t so much as try to move, he uses the cables to rearrange him like a doll. “Let Daddy see. Don’t tell me you’re shy now; you look gorgeous.”

Val gags on the length of his useless, slimy tongue, and slurs unintelligibly. The change in angle is enough to let the searching tip of his cock probe that much deeper, wrenching a broken scream from his throat as he seems to come again, even if his shriveled balls are too empty to pump any more jizz out: another moment Vox bookmarks. 

“There’s thirteen, baby. Just eighteen more to go.”

Something in Val breaks and he struggles with renewed vigor. For all the times Vox has encouraged his favorite little interruption, he’s never dosed out this much in one sitting, and as the air thickens with demonic power, he wonders if he may have pushed Val too far this time. Funny, considering Vox hasn’t even made him cum that many times yet; they have longer sessions than this before breakfast, some days. 

“Vox, Papi, pleeease,” Val crows, pulling hard enough for one of his shoulders to dislocate with a bright pop. He’s a real mess. A flap of his wings generates enough wind to knock over a couple of cameras but still does nothing to save him, which is no one’s fault but his own, because it’s not technically Vox’s responsibility to help him cage his naughty tentacle of a cock. “Can’t do it. Help me, Vox, please.” He gulps for breath before rubbing his face into the blankets to wipe away snot and tears, sniveling, “Please, you have to.”

The safe move would be to wrap this up and defuse the rising tension in Val’s body, like it’s waiting to explode into something far deadlier, but Vox is used to riding the line of too close to the sun. “I don’t have to do jackshit. I do whatever the fuck I want: which, right now, is to watch you,” he sends a lovetap of a shock toward Val’s thigh, “break the Vee Tower orgasm record.”

Val’s responding screech echoes back off the studio walls. In a heartbeat, the bunching muscles of his back bulk and his slobbery tongue lengthens.

“Shit,” Vox mutters. He has moments before Val snaps through the cables like paper chains, quickly rescinding them to spare the extra sparks that are certain to incense the monster before him more. “Val, baby.” Racking his servers for the right words to talk Val down, he finds himself too overloaded to move. As Valentino morphs into his full demonic body, his dick never hesitates in its quest to mold its owners cunt to its exact shape, though the second phallus--one Vox somehow always forgets he has--growing from Val’s pelvis is easily occupied by one of Val’s expert handjobs. 

Whatever biological process generates Val’s aphrodisiac fluids kicks into overdrive, causing his saliva to cascade down his chin and chest, while his slick coats his legs. An extra pair of arms stretches in tandem with the first two as Val’s form grows to dwarf the bed he previously spread out on. In his presence, all the air seems to thin, leaving nothing but the siren’s call of his pheromones, strong enough to make it through the precise filters of Vox’s systems. 

“What’s the matter, amorcito?” His purr resonates through Vox’s chest and vibrates the walls of the building, while the subtle hums and trills he makes are finally loud enough to be heard without Vox cranking his audio sensitivity far higher than is reasonable. “You have a record to break.”

A panicked laugh echoes from Vox’s speakers, filling the room as easily as Val’s voice. “I was joking. You know, how we sometimes laugh at each other’s expense.”

“I get it now.”

Val’s arms shoot out to grab Vox before he knows what’s happening. It feels as if he teleported into Valentino’s embrace, face buried in his chest and still embarrassingly hard dick pressed against his second cock. Being this close puts the size into perspective; Vox couldn’t wrap both hands around it, let alone one, and its length makes him queasy, both attributes that set him against having it this close to him, let alone pressed against him, groin to ribs, like a threat. 

“Let’s be reasonable, dear,” Vox says. Static cuts through his voice, his face, in a betrayal almost worse than his own behavior this morning. “It would rip me in half.”

That tongue, endless and curious as the dick squirming against Vox’s stomach, caresses his body and drenches him in rosy spit. Several errors pop up at once, but he still hears Val murmur, “You’ll get over it.”

“Val. Val, come on.” One of Val’s hands trails through the viscous fluid and smears it down to Vox’s ass. Slender fingers circle his hole, massaging the drool into it and relaxing the muscle with unnatural ease. Vox’s only coherent thought is that it must have a different chemical makeup than the standard stuff. “No. Val-”

Val forces two fingers in. It should hurt, but instead it shoves Vox’s protests from his mind as his body falls limp into Valentino, and he barely notices the hasty addition of a third finger. Though they both know Val is an expert at both prep and fingering for the hell of it, he’s sure the cursory glance against his prostate is an accident because the bastard won’t touch it again. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter, because Val only spends a couple minutes perfunctorily working Vox open before his impatience wins out. Three of his hands--the fucker has too many--lift Vox to position him with the tip of Val’s massive cock kissing his woefully underprepared hole. 

“Val,” Vox entreats in a final desperate attempt, flaring his brightness to its maximum as his eye begins to spin, “you’re not putting that in me.”

He doesn’t get a second of control. Val laughs at him, and begins to press Vox down. Although the tip is flared, it’s still painfully wide from the get-go, and reflex-tears spring up with the first quarter inch. He bluescreens at the half and comes to at the quarter. He’s barely on Val at all and swears he can feel it in his throat with how full he already is.

“Nnn- Not gonna fit,” he chokes.

“Does it hurt?” Val coos, not that he cares. “You’re plenty wet, Papi.”

Vox shakes his head. “No. But I’m fucking full, ‘s not fitting.” The fact that it should hurt doesn’t cross his conscious mind.

“Not with that attitude, it’s not.” A haze of smoke comes on Val’s next exhale, and another one of his endless hands tilts Vox’s screen up so it seeps into his ventilation system. Another wave of warmth, of need, rolls through him in response and he loosens up enough to drop further onto Val’s impossible cock, and feedback squeals at them both in response. “You’re goddamn lucky the other one’s too busy for you, Voxxy.” Fuck, Val’s voice seems to be coming from everywhere, darkly continuing, “or I’d stuff you so full, you’d be in Velvette’s workshop for a fucking month.”

If Vox’s speakers aren’t blown, they're at least broken, judging by the constant static whine as Val works him further onto his cock. When the ridge of the head finally pops in, Vox spasms as he blurts precum into Val’s abs “Fuck, fuck, too much.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Clearly mocking or not, Val’s voice seems to soothe Vox’s panic as he absorbs more and more of his toxins. “You’re thinking too hard, amorcito.” One by one, Val’s supportive hands let go, leaving Vox at the far lesser mercy of gravity to impale him on his cock. Of course one finds its way back to Vox’s wrists, to prevent him from holding himself up as a defense, and the one holding his screen never moves, but Val achieves his goal of defeating any chance Vox has left of escape as his dick explores to the best of its ability inside him.

At the point Vox thinks another millimeter will cause a crash so hard it takes all of Hell out with him, Val’s body locks up again as he orgasms, no longer too empty to flood Vox with burning, intoxicating cum. There’s too much for him to hold. It presses ruthlessly against his prostate and makes his stomach cramp even as it spills out around Valentino like a fountain.

Vox’s finish pales in comparison, pathetically small when the fullness drags it out of him alongside a glitching moan, though several lights shatter overhead and a rogue shock momentarily freezes Val in place. His system panics and bluescreens once more to prevent a crash, but he boots back up quickly enough that Val is still whimpering his way through the aftershocks. 

“O-okay,” Vox gets out, “that’s enough.”

But he’s still slowly sinking down on Val’s cock with no hope of escape when Valentino sighs, “But we’re only a third of the way there.” At least Val relinquishes his screen, but it’s to press against the bulge in Vox’s tummy with a gusto that makes him simultaneously spurt out a few more drops of cum and gag so hard he tastes bile. “See? Plenty of room, Papi.”

“It’s not- you can’t-”

Val suddenly moves, thrusting up to force himself deeper. “What was that?” Maybe it would be less overwhelming, to be stuffed so full, if Val’s cock wasn’t constantly moving like it’s mapping every square inch of Vox’s insides and will be tested on its findings later. He can’t catch his bearings long enough to have a coherent thought, let alone keep up a debate with Val. When he dares to look down, he can see the outline of it through his skin, rearranging his internal organs to make more room for itself. “Just a few more inches,” Val informs, like he’s not already pressing against parts of Vox that shouldn’t be reachable without dissection. 

Vox tries to say no, but a jumble of technical sounds and error beeps come out instead and Val just keeps pushing. There has to be more of dick inside him than anything else, or so he supposes until Val seizes and comes again. At this point there’s nowhere for it to go besides down what’s left of his cock outside Vox's body.  Val is too far gone to play the slow game and he continuously rabbits up into Vox, fucking him on two or three inches at a time with no regard for the consequences. 

The deepest thrust yet cracks something in Vox’s spinal cord and he loses connection to his left leg, but a complaint is too high a demand for him to fulfill when all he can think about is Val, Val, Val, in and around him, an inescapable fact of reality now. Nothing else matters. Nothing else compares. The complicated mesh of brain matter and AI that makes Vox could be rewiring themselves to dedicate his existence to being Val’s cocksleeve and, at this moment, he couldn’t give less of a shit if his soul depended on it. He can’t understand how Valentino complains about a pleasure so all-consuming as this one. 

As he’s questioning whether Val’s cock ever ends, or if it will keep coming until he bursts like an overfilled balloon, his ass meets the cradle of Val’s hips. “Not so bad is it?” Val simpers. Vox only manages to gurgle. His heart, his lungs, his everything feels flattened and pinned to allow for Val’s monstrous cock. Not only does it continuously rub against his prostate, but the sweeping arc of its movement alights sensitive spots Vox would have never known existed, otherwise. “Feels, ah, so fucking good, Voxxy. Other bitches die of shock before I get this far.”

Somehow that sentence worms its way into Vox’s consciousness like a compliment. No one else could handle Valentino in his full form, but Vox can, and he’s forgotten why he kicked up a fuss about allowing it now that he’s managed the impossible. To reward him, Val’s roaming hands are back. They stroke down his back, trace the bulge in his abdomen, tease his nipples, and work his oversensitive dick.

Val allows the independent movement of his cock to do the work rather than thrusting, which Vox has to remind himself comes from laziness and not any sort of care for the damage he’s capable of causing. Between their moans, the wet sound of Val’s cocks fucking them both fill the silence. 

Then Valentino comes inside him a third time, and whatever happens next is lost to a system crash that knocks out the entire city for several hours. 

Eventually, Vox wakes up on Velvette’s workshop table with his chest sliced open and her nimble little fingers nudging his ribs back into place. She must have turned off his pain sensors, but hadn’t gone to the trouble of washing the copious amounts of spend from his skin. Hardly any of his lower body was spared, and a flaky trail that starts on his screen, floods around his neck joint, and spills down his throat only ends a half-inch above Velvette’s incision.

She glances up at him when she sees his face appear but quickly returns to the task at hand. “Do not tell me how the hell this happened. I cleaned jizz out of places it should never be, Vox. Never.”

“I appreciate it, my dear,” he croaks. She hasn’t gotten to his voicebox yet. But when he wiggles his fingers and toes, they move without issue, which is an improvement over his last memory. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to put me back together; can you imagine Val trying to replace my liver?”

They share a laugh before Velvette reprimands him for moving while she’s working. “Trust me, you’ll want to leave the pain receptors off for a couple days, but don’t forget to take it easy. Val did a number on you this time.”

“Yeah, well.” Vox grumbles, “I told him it was a bad idea.”

She pushes the mechanism that replaces his diaphragm with more malice than necessary, drawing a neon blue bruise to its surface from the rough handling. “I can't fucking wait to watch the video on our next date night.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to tell you about it?”

Velvette leans down to press a kiss to his exposed sternum. “I want you to show me instead.”

A lesser man than Vox would be embarrassed, but he merely grins in anticipation of reliving the memory with his partners in the days to come.

[artofhazbinhotel]

How toxic do you think the poly vees get if they notice one is favoring the other. (Sorry if this isn't what you were expecting im a sucker for drama)

Velvette almost always feels like Vox and Valentino favor each other over her, they've known each other much longer than they've known her in and in a poly situation they've always been together much longer than they've been with her. They're unaware of this because she refuses to communicate and instead chooses to be petty and not initiate dates or intimacy. Only when she's asked directly will she get involved, it's an unspoken rule they have to ask first because she accuses them of just doing what she says when she has to ask "if you wanted me here you'd ask first" even though they said yes

Vox feels Valentino favors Velvette, Valentino and Velvette bicker but it's nothing like what they do, he calls her babydoll, lavishes her with gifts, cuddles her, but won't do the same for Vox because he likes making Vox jealous, Velvette doesn't get that treatment because her jealousy is just anger instead of the obsessive demanding Vox does

The same problem happens with Valentino, he thinks Vox favors Velvette, Vox will buy them both gifts, but the difference is Vox hardly ever argues with Velvette, and it makes Valentino so angry even though he's the problem and most arguments are his fault exclusively because of his temper. He has the worst coping mechanisms out of the three, he's never been monogamous but he'll go out and tell them to have fun just because they hate this mood

[cherryblossombabies]

The Vees As Caregivers HCs

🦋-Valentino

has no idea what he's doing

will shut up his fussy little by just shoving a paci in their mouth

someone wants him while he's playing with little!reader: "Fucking wait! Ay, mijo/mija, can you believe their audacity to interrupt us?"

really more of a babysitter of vox and/or velvette's little i feel

calls you: mijo/mija, mariposa, lovebug, poofball

his little's favorite shows/movies are: elena of alavor, wish, encanto, sofia the first

Better with toddler regressors than baby regressors- how does he help someone who can't tell him what they need?!

spoils his little with snacks

mismatched clothes 24/7. do not trust this man to pick out your outfits

🎀-Velvette

definitely spoils her little the most

auntie vel fr fr

best fashion sense for littles

posts her little on social media 24/7 (unless they're not okay with it)

really good with clingy regressors- like she's constantly with you if she can be

will bring you to overlord meetings

she will get you into broadway shows whether you like it or not

her littles favorite shows/movies: Doc Mcstuffins, Ugly Dolls, allll the barbie movies, Monster High

What she calls you: BabyDoll, little gremlin, darling, bean

📺Vox-

probably your primary caregiver

he will pass on his shark hyperfixation onto you

screen limits? pssh, unless his little is having headaches or their eyes are bloodshot the kid can have all the screentime they want

he does monitor your activity however

he will literally hide you behind him when alastor comes close

vox's little loves to bite (and will cry if scolded)

entire snack pantry in little!reader's room.

vox's little is a spoiled brat

tonssss of shark things.

like

your entire bedroom/nursery is shark themed

vox's little LOVES vark

can you tell vox is my favorite

what he calls you: spark, biter, prince/princess/prinxe, little shark, shark pup

vox's little is probably a ocean themed sinner of some sort

his little's favorite shows/movies: Nemo, Octonauts,Pokémon, Bluey, Wild Kratts

a/n: would y'all like to see alastor cg headcanons next?

[vypridae]

velvette after finding out that during one of valentinos last rampages, he had ripped up one of the best dresses that took her *hours* to work on and actually gets super mad at valentino so vox, in order to protect his boyfriend, ties her up and puts her in timeout, takes a photo and texts carmilla like "come get yo girl" because she will not calm down. anyway once velvette comes back shes got a few kisses here and there and somehow carmilla managed to break her enough to actually apologize to val. (vox recorded it and uses it to embarass vel)

OKAY LOWKEY I LOVE THIS?? AJDKFAHDFG??? velvette actually loses her shit because she fucking loved the dress she made and her notes were torn up with the dress so she feels like she wont ever be able to recreate it as perfectly as she had it before

carmilla probably shows up to the vee tower (reluctantly; she still doesnt like val or vox but she'll tolerate them for vel's sake), lifts velvette (with zero issues), goes "i'll be back with a calm velvette in a few hours" to vox and leaves

velvette decides, after apologizing, that as payment shes making val help her redo the dress he tore up (vox thinks this is an awful idea) but then they make the same dress vel made before but even fucking BETTER and val is like "seeee? tearing it up before helped! now it looks even BETTER, babydoll!" and velvette is trying super fucking hard not to dig her claws into his throat because "fuck you fuck you fuck you"

vox has three thoughts on this situation

how the fuck did val have a good idea

how the fuck did carmilla get velvette to actually apologize

how did velvette NOT tear val's wings off at his stupid comments about how the dress is "so much better" now

(vox messages carmilla later begging for how she learned how to soothe velvette . probably even makes deal offers and shit to find out . carmilla refuses to tell him . her secret)

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

I had a thought I wanted to share with you, about what the vees phone contacts names would be.

I imagine Vox's contacts being very normal, just Val and Vel's full names.

Velvette probably saved Valentino's phone as "Pissbaby 🦋" or something like that.

I like to imagine that Valentino saved Vox's number as something like "Voxxy Papi ❤️" because... Because. And I think he would also save Vel's as some kind of pet name but a more platonic/friendly pet name? Idk

Thank you for sharing it 🩵❤️

Valentino probably changes Vox contact name regularly from "Papi ❤️🥵" to "stupid fucking bastard fuck his stupid flat face". Velvette he always keeps as "Babydoll 👑🩷".

Velvette has Vox saved as "Daddy Cool 💸" and sure Val as "Pissbaby 🦋"

Vox indeed kept them as "Velvette" and "Valentino" but when Val realized it he was like OH MY GOD I REALLY MEAN THAT LITTLE TO YOU?? YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER and changed his contact name in Vox's phone for "HOT STUFF 🍑🔥💋"

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Headcanon - Overlords Attacked / Magical Virus?

Oh, this one would be so fun.

-----------------

 Attack on the Overlords - Magical Virus

Brazen and unexpected, but immediately dismissed as silliness. 

(Striker involved? Because his plan was always to kill overlords)

----

They are at a meeting, something unusual to experience more than once a year usually post-extermination to discuss new territories and boundaries. The meeting is being held in a neutral location this time, given the recent information around angelic steel and the sheer fact Carmilla happens to have 90% of it in all the area. 

The building is well-warded, and technically contains a pocket dimension fuelled by all of the Overlords’ powers that they were meeting in. It was a fun little measure to ensure no one could lock everyone else away if all of them had control to some extent. The flashing whorl of different magic about the walls could get nauseating if you looked too closely, however. 

Perhaps that was where things started to go wrong. 

There was some level of tension, naturally, as always at these meetings… but at the same time a sickly tendril of complacency arose about the ankles of each and every overlord present. They had Won. They were in a place of their own making. They were Safe. Well, as safe as one can be in hell… but still, they were not as alert as they should be.

All the Vees had come this time, an interesting development. However, it was clear that they were simply making a point of force, and having a go at the Radio Demon.

“I can’t believe you’d even bo00000the333r to show up after being such a fucking coward!” Vox goads, grinning maniacally, claws digging into the table as he leered across at his rival. “Heard your freaky little maid actually took Adam out, bet that stings just as bad as your humiliating defeat you old timey FUCK!”

“Hmmm, yes I am quite proud of Niffty and her achievements. There never was a stain she couldn’t get out, and by golly was Adam a stain on all of humanity in life and death! Hahahhaa!” Alastor parries, Rosie joining in the laughter. 

“Stop deflecting you fucker, and face the fact that you ran away like the little bitch you are!” 

Alastor grinned, “Perhaps… but I could not help but note your absence on the field of play, picture box, except perhaps for your voyeuristic eyes swarming about. You accuse me of hiding in the shadows, and yet… that feels more apt for you and your cronies, does it not?”

“Voxxy, tell him how excited we got when you saw Adam penetrate him… hmmm?” 

Alastor fought to stop his ears from flattening. “Mmm, not the terminology I would use, my dear insectoid colleague, but I do understand the parlance of your profession would be hard to slip out of in more civilised surroundings.”

“Hah, hard. Like Vox when he thought you died…” Valentino snorted, and Velvette rolled her eyes before giving a half-hearted high five to the moth. 

“I do not know how you put up with their insufferable hijinks, Miss Velvette…” Alastor commiserates. 

“Trust me, sometimes I fuckin’ don’t either. But they’re good in bed, so for now it is what it is, innit?” 

“VEL!” / “Babydoll!”

Rosie’s hollow eyes glance between the trio, finally confirming something that was SURE to make the high tea at her emporium tomorrow quite aflutter with gossip.

Zeezi make the room shudder as she traipsed in, with Carmilla and Zestial close on her heels. Odette and Clara trailed their mother, clearly armed and trying hard not to look in any way on edge about not having full control of the layout.

“Greeting Sovereign Overlords of Hell and thank you for meeting again so soon after our last meeting. I see that we have not lost anyone in the previous Extermination, nor are there any new faces to bring up to speed, so we may get onto pressing business.”

“Oi, why’re you the one who gets to chair these meetings, pointy-shoes? Let someone else take a turn once in a while…” Velvette complains reflexively, her main intention being on trying to find the right angle to get proper signal for her phone in this liminal space.

Carmilla, with the patience of someone who has already raised two daughters, responded with a calm smile. “Overlord Velvette, would like to submit a request for a rotating roster for chairing of the meetings? It can easily be arranged. However, we will need assurances that all the requested parties will attend… which I understand is not always possible, given the chaotic nature of your joint industries.”

“Pfft, nah. I’m just sayin’, maybe you don’t need to be so uptight and in control all the time.”

Odette and Clara visibly stiffen, glaring daggers at Velvette. Carmilla’s expression remains oddly serene, as does that of Zestial as he seats himself beside her. 

“Your concern for my wellbeing is admirable, and I thank you. So, how about we move onto the pressing matters that have brought us all to the table today.”

She ignores the outraged spluttering of the outmanoeuvred Velvette.

Carmilla knows if she pushed it even a fraction more, the younger woman might accidentally call her ‘Mum’ in her next retort, that specific wheedling whine was so… familiar. Her eyes cut across to the trying-not-to-look-at-her flushed expressions of her own daughters, who were clearly flashing back to teen tantrums of their own. 

“Today we meet to discuss the new direction of Hell. That is to say, given that the Exorcist Army was so successfully repelled last week and the countdown has not yet resumed, there is a large question around what the future will look like in relation to our ongoing antagonistic relationship with Heaven. Overlord Alastor or Overlord Rosie, would either of you have any new information to share?”

“Thank you darling, I must say things went off quite splendidly!” Rosie chimes in, hands expressively accompanying her words. “My cannibals and cannibettes had just the most delightful time devouring the angels that those lovely people at the hotel downed for us, and we have such a surplus of divine meat it’ll last for decades in the freezers.

That reminds me, if anyone has time to fit in a little feasting, we’re hosting a banquet in my little town next week for everyone to show off their culinary experiments with the angelic flesh. Oh, it’ll be delicious!” 

There was a pause. “And don’t you worry, if that’s not your thing we will also have a few chimkin and vegetarian options. Promise!”

“Dear Charlotte has advised she intends to attend, Rosie, with the lovely Vagatha and the other hotel members.” Alastor advised, grinning at her in a genuine manner that sparkled in his eyes.

It could also, it must be said, have a little something to do with the horror in Vaggie and Lucifer’s faces when they’d been invited to a feast wherein Angel Wings were on the menu… which he had mentally filed away for later perusal and enjoyment.

“How… magnanimous of you. I am certain that there may be a few minutes in my schedule somewhere to attend, thank you for your gracious invitation.” 

“Here, here.” Alastor agrees. His fingers tap the table in an odd little rhythm that catches Vox’s attention. “Well, in terms of an update I would heartily agree that Heaven has realised they are not so invulnerable as previously thought… and that has left them quite paralysed in shock. Both the Princess and King have attempted to reach out to Heaven individually, and received limited answers; polite platitudes if you will. It appears those above no longer wish to draw ire or attention to themselves under the circumstances… hahahahahaaa!” 

“Most assuredly, the Heavenly hosts were most severely rebuffed upon their entry to our realm. Victorious, our reigns remain.” Zestial enthuses.

“Okay, but now what?” Velvette jumps in, watching Vox’s eye twitching as he seems to be decoding something. Valentino exhales a stream of heart-shaped smoke and pets her arm soothingly. “I mean, let’s face facts… those fuckers have been getting away with this for ages and one lost battle ain’t just gonna be enough for ‘em to call it quits, yeah? What d’you think they’re planning?”

“An excellent question, my fashion-forward friend! Just imagine the fear the angels feel now that their avenue of annual entertainment has been annihilated, it only raises the stakes. Why, I suspect more than a few of the heavenly court our dear Princess faced off against are practically moulting themselves over the idea that sinner ranks may once more swell to the populace last seen when the last proactive royal attempted to counter them.” Alastor interjects, grin becoming sharper as the shadows deepened.

“Which is precisely why we need to plan for the potential responses we shall receive from above. Even if no one takes the opportunity to rebel as Queen Lillith once did, it will likely be a thought closely bound to the minds of those ruling Heaven… we must prepare on the off-chance that there is a more... punitive response.” Carmilla advised.

“Hmm, well I would absolutely agree with that, Overlord Carmilla!” Vox slid his way into the conversation, all schmooze and practised business speak. “As we’ve previously mentioned, VoxTech is working on a new brand of Angelic Security options for you and your family, however I’m thinking that this little venture may go a little faster and smoother if our industries were to collaborate to get these products out and about before Heaven gets it in their stuck up little heads to-... YOU TAKE THAT BACK!”

Vox’s tone fritzes as he hurls a bolt of lightning across the table at Alastor, whose fingertips stilled against the table. The other leans to the side and avoids catching electricity to the face, expression delighted. 

“Why my dear Picturebox, whatever could you be referring to?” 

“Oh you FUCKE-...YOU KNOW WHAT YOU SAID!”

“Wha-... oh for fuck’s sake, Vox, let it go already. Ain’t like you two never said that shit to one another before when fighting…”

“W-...wait, you know morse code, Vel?”

“Course I bloody do. It’s the basis for a lot of coding, and you know how good I am at that little techno language… hmmm?” There was a concerningly sexual lilt to that statement that made the TV’s screen flare for a second. “And you, you grinning anachronism, stop goading my idiot ‘cause I’m the one who has to deal with him after you two do that whole… flirty fighting nonsense.” She waved a flippant hand as static screeched in response.

Rosie was laughing at the absolute disgust Alastor was expressing.

“Oh deer… she’s got your number, haha!” 

Valentino grinned salaciously over the table at the Radio Demon, and some of that noxiously vivid smoke dared trail over to touch him. Alastor’s shade loomed up from behind the moth’s chair, fingers out to-...

“ENOUGH!” Carmilla called, snapping the meeting back to order.

“Aww, it was just getting good…” Zeezi muttered to the overlord to her left, some guy with a flaming blue skull and a name no one could recall. “Spoilsport.”

“Yes yes, indeed. Let us set aside such PETTY differences… and focus. If possible.”

“Big talk from the person who shut down the last meeting when dolly over there got a bit up in your business…” Zeezi prods, needling at the other.

Carmilla sighed. “That is quite true, unfortunately. My conduct was not appropriate… however, in the efforts to better manage these meetings, I ask that personal grudges and any… flirting… take place outside these walls.” 

“So, what’re we going to do, then?” Valentino asks, bored of the whole thing and already tapping away at some sort of game on a Vpad produced from who knows where in that gaudy coat. The sound was a little high and the continued high pitched trilling pop of whatever he was doing was irritating more than a few present. 

Alastor reached out to the airwaves and turned the volume down, shuddering at the sensation of dealing with the technology, but his ears stopped stinging all the same, so it was worth it.

“Why, teach your thralls to fight properly and bargain with the lethally lovely Overlord Carmilla for support to arm them, of course! We’ll give those angels what-for when they get back here!”

“And that’s where our Angelic Security products come into it!” Vox jumps back into the conversation. “Yes, we can meet individually with you or as a group at a later date to discuss options for each and every one of your territories, down to the last thrall’s residence. Let’s get everyone ready to face off against the threat, and make sure those feathered FUCKS have nowhere to hide when they inevitably bustle back down here.” 

More than a few of the other Overlords were nodding in interest, including Rosie, much to Alastor’s horror. To think of even greater surveillance across the entire ring was… horrifying, he felt his gorge rise… but what could he say to counter such an offer? 

He makes a show of rolling his eyes, but remains silent. 

“An intriguing proposal… I will also find time for a consultation with VoxTech Industries. Now, I open the floor to a discussion around any of the currently contested territories, disputes and if there are any up and coming potential overlords that we should be aware of.” 

“Yeah, I got a question for Zesty up there about some of his people setting up in one of my warehouses… I don’t like the looks of the light shows going on at night. You know if what they’re doing is any kind of danger to my people? Cause I don’t want that on my turf.” Zeezi asks, glancing down the table at the other.

“Many apologies, mine thralls have sourced your spacious building to complete alchemical experimentation of a most vexing nature. Nothing that should light the skies nor cause the flames of hell to writhe, thou hast mine assurances.”

“So it’s like… drugs? Or glowsticks or something?”

“More akin to potives for various purposes, health tonics and their opposite numbers. Hmmm, I hath made cert that all endeavours pose no risk to thine enterprise, peoples or the waters therein.”

“Ah, ‘kay… could’ve been more fun if it was drugs, just saying. Either way, we can negotiate some of that shit from you later, right? My guys’re rough and tumble, and they get too into it sometimes, so it might be helpful to have something vaguely medicinal around.”

“Verily, those in this room hath mine ear first and foremost for such wares.”

“Nice to know.”

“Would your people be open to assisting in production of Love Potion?” Valentino asked, missing entirely the flicker of distaste on the ancient overlord’s face. 

“Hmmm, such an endeavour wouldt not be within mine realms, as such a potive is intrinsic to thine enterprise, is it not?”

“Hmm, yeah I guess so.” Val shrugs multiple sets of shoulders. He’d lost interest after he got a general ‘no’ vibe from the elderly overlord. “Well, is that it? I got several people to do today…”

“Well, if there is no further business, I suppose that we can conclude this meeting. Overlord Rosie, my daughters and I look forwards to attending your event next week, and I would hope to see-...” Carmilla’s words cut off with a choked cry as chaos erupted throughout the room.

Rippling cracks filled the room simultaneously, as bullets flew in perfect precision to strike each and every Overlord through the skull with pinpoint accuracy. Some struck from the side, others from behind… and several through the forehead. Even Vox was not spared, his screen fracturing from impact as it rippled outwards from between his eyes.

Bodies slumped to the tabletop or out of their chairs depending on the directional force they received from the attack. Blood of varying colours coated the walls, the table, one another.

Odette and Clara screamed as their mother fell back into their arms, and they covered her with their bodies, weapons to hand as they prepared for a further assault that seemed imminent. And yet, never came.

As silently as it had begun, everything ceased, the only sound the harsh panting of the two warriors and the steady dripping of blood and gore off various surfaces. The room buckled slightly, wards shorting out due to the sudden loss of power fuelling them.

None noticed the tiny flares above of coin-sized portals closing amongst the whirling multitudes of magics present; the perfectly camouflaged vantage points for would-be assassins.

“What… what do we do?” Odette hisses at her sister.

“I don’t-... we need help, someone who won’t take advantage of this.” Of our mother. Of Zestial and the others. 

The children of Overlords were few and far between, but they knew that their ties protected and bound them to the others present as strongly as those same connections dissuaded harm.

Why, more than once another Overlord had casually stepped in to divert potential kidnappers from taking them in the early days… and made no real mention of it to their mother. It was simply… an unspoken little courtesy extended to them due to who they were.

In fact, the only one who probably understood that feeling was likely-...

Odette gasped, “The Princess!” 

Clara already had her phone out, shaking fingers encouraging a seldom-used number to ring…

“Please pick up, please pick up!”

Ch2 - etc

In hindsight, perhaps an activity involving so much glue, glitter and other confetti-like substances was not the most appropriate option given the current hotel staff and clientele.

Husk had it matted in his fur at this point and Niffty was driving everyone ballistic with her frequent attempts to clean up excess before it even reached the paper.

Angel had, unfortunately, decided the exercise was ridiculous and crafted a very detailed but wildly inappropriate veritable bouquet of demon dongs on his paper.

“Uh, Angel… I love the hmmm, the enthusiasm… however, we were supposed to be making art of things we…” Love. Ah, the flaw in that little statement just hit her. She laughed nervously, “Actually, that’s fine! I’m er, glad to see it’s just… that… and you didn’t draw any of the substances you normally talk about all the time. So that’s some progress!”

“Nah princess, I’m just not great at art or you woulda seen me draw a real detailed version of Whiskers, probably with a line or two to snort off’a his pert-...” 

“WELL NOW THIS LOOKS FUN, what’s happening in here?!” Lucifer’s voice rings out, cutting off the truly heinous sentence he just walked in on before his daughter turned any deeper red. She really needed to get better at shutting down sinners when they got vulgar but… that was a skill that came with time.

“Just a little exercise in creativity, we’re drawing what we love! Or, uh, trying to… Niffty, please stop eating that, it’s glue.” 

“Oh for the love of-...” Vaggie was there trying to wrangle it out of the hands of the smaller demoness. It was quite comical to see someone trying to avoid those sharp teeth and simultaneously remove the heaped handfuls of glitter-caked glue from the same mouth all at once. “Bad Niffty, you’ll get a stomach ache! Uh, what…er, what if you get too unwell to deal with the bugs? Then they’ll win, right?”

The little maid paused, arms and legs dangling as if all her energy had gone inward to thinking that over.

“Is that-... is she okay? Is this normal?” Lucifer found himself asking, perturbed by the blank stare. 

“Yeah. Give her a minute.” Husk adds, glancing over dismissively. 

Well, if anyone would know if something was wrong, it’d be the guy who worked alongside her for decades. 

“Okay!” the little thing brightened, dropping the glue to the floor and wriggling free to run off. However, she paused mid-turn and shuddered.

In a split second, three chains lit up the room without any prior warning and flickered. 

“What the FUCK, what the FUCK is happening?” Angel gasps, starting to breathe heavily. This wasn’t Val being a dick and calling him in, the other end of the chain was fading towards him right this second… disappearing. A tug was there, but it didn’t want his physical body, it wanted his essence.

“No! Sir!” Niffty cried, slouching to the floor as her energy was siphoned towards the rapidly disintegrating end of the chain. 

“What’s happening?” Charlie cried, eyes wide and hands twitching, unsure who to help first as Husk slumped forwards onto the crafting table, body twitching with the strain. 

And then her phone goes off.

A connection she didn't use often, but there’s a frantic daughter of an overlord on the phone who needs her Right Now, even if the exact nature of the issue isn’t easy to obtain due to the frantic sobs and heaving breaths on the other end.

“Stay calm, can you tell me where you are? Okay. Okay. We’ll be right there, it’s going to be okay.” she snaps the phone shut. “Dad! Someone attacked the Overlord meeting and they’re all dead!”

“WHAT?!”

“Please, can you portal us to the (make up location)? I need to-... Carmilla’s daughters are there alone in a room full of-... and Rosie and Al were there! Oh no!”

“Breathe, duckling, breathe. We can go. But what about your friends here?”

“We’re coming with you, just give me a sec…” Husk said gravely, head still on the table and one claw raised. “Fuck, this hasn’t happened in… years… got used to not being used as a fuckin’ battery. Alright, let’s do this.”

Angel shoved himself upright through will alone and stumbled towards the others. “If he’s dead-dead, I reserve the right to desecrate the corpse and no one gets to make a fuss about it. Capisce?”

“Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiir…” Niffty mewls, crawling up Vaggie’s leg to cling to her like a koala. 

“Alright, let’s go!” Lucifer snaps open a portal right through those cute little wards the overlords set up. Hey, he’s the King for a reason. 

Its a scene of devastation and carnage.

They’re dead. ALL Dead.��

Charlie runs over to Rosie and Alastor first, the former seems to have been caught through the side of the skull and the latter… well, unfortunately, it seems to have gone straight through the forehead. Hmmm, that might be a little triggering later on, she’d have to work on discussing that with-... oh, yeah. Fuck.

Neither showed any signs of life or afterlife or vitality or however they classed it here.

Clara and Odette were sobbing at the head of the table, each curled protectively around Carmilla or Zestial. 

Lucifer asks what happened. They have no answers, one minute it was fine and the next...

He uses his magic to fill the room to sense what went down, sees the portals. Tastes magic that is laced with Heavenly power but is native to hell somehow. Possibly from the use of blessing tipped weapons.

“Can you… heal them?”

“Duckling… they’re dead, but they’re not... fully gone, or your friends would be free right now, right?” Still the fact anyone got bold enough to kill or try to kill a dozen overlords at once was… concerning.

“Oh, so can we give them a uh, a little boost to help them wake up?”

“You can but… do you really want to waste it on these guys? They’ll regenerate soon enough.”

Charlie frowns at him, and gently provides some power to Rosie and Alastor, and when they begin to breathe again (even if morbidly slowly), she moves on. Moving to Carmilla and Zestial, to Zeezi, that weird skull guy, and then the Vees… she hesitates over Valentino, though.

“Oh no, I’m so… exhausted… I just can’t without rest…” she mumbles, making a show of swooning into Vaggie’s amused arms.

With a hiss, Alastor sits upright, the back of his head half-healed into its regular shape but the unsightly bullet hole in his forehead was leaking blood obscenely. However, he noted the awakening Rosie and immediately offered her his kerchief to manage the matted blood in her hair.

She handed her own back across and they laughed, swiping at the blood. They handed them back sticky with crimson gore.

“Deerling would you be offended if I made tea with the kerchief? Just for me of course.”

“Of course! I’d hate for it to go to waste!” 

Carmilla and Zest awaken, immediately pretending not to be worried for the other as if they weren't the worst kept secret in Hell, and then turned their attentions to Calra and Odette, who were BESIDE themselves with grief and joy.

The others Waking up, unsure why they hadn't been sent through a proper reset / reformation because a headshot would do that.

What happened? Who would DARE? Who could even do this? Most Goetia couldn't bust down a doorway held back with the power of multiple overlords. It was a matter of amassed might.

Odd. Unsettling in a way that made the King uncomfortable, as if he'd missed something. He plucks several of the bullets from the walls, floor and even tabletop where they'd been ejected post-regeneration.

They don't... smell of heaven, not directly. Which was good, because if they had even a trace of angelic steel in them, none of these sinners would be here right now.

So then, what was the point of it? To target an entire room, warded strongly enough to dissuade most under royal goetia level, of the top tier of sinners... only to use that one shot (so to speak) on a non-lethal delivery.

He wants to think its someone new to hell, someone who didn't realise nothing short of an angelic bullet would kill a sinner, an overlord. But that doesn't add up. New sinners wouldn't have the ability, the connections to do this, and older / experienced sinners would never take this risk unless they thought it was guaranteed.

So what was this all for?

He feels the answer tickling the edge of his infinite mind, clouded with years of roiling depression, trying to connect the dots for him. However, right now...? He was feeling twitchy about his daughter being anywhere near this place, wondering if these was an ambush likely.

Out of courtesy to the overlords he did recall and liked, he offered them portals home. The Vees declined, curling into Vox as he turned them to electricity and jumped into the outside powerlines.

Rosie stepped straight through a portal into the frantically yelling arms of Susan, who was berating her for needing to use her energy, all the while hugging Rosie with a desperate relief neither woman would ever be able to mention. The frightening woman pointed her walking stick through the portal menacingly at Alastor as well, stating she was glad to see his rudolph looking ass hadn't been annihilated either but how dare the pair of them worry cannibal town like that?!

Alastor was too stunned to retort before the portal closed. "...I believe that's the first time dear Susan hasn't threatened to skin me for a decorative rug... and then complained about how it would be oddly proportioned." he murmurs, blinking, and then has to deal with Niffty gluing herself to him and holding tight.

Lucifer immediately drags everyone back to the hotel, and throws up additional wards despite Alastor's protests that his were more than sufficient.

A touch cruelly, Lucifer retorts that clearly they weren't or he wouldn't have been shot in the head a second time, hmmm? And Charlie had to intervene to prevent the dad-off part 2 from starting all over again when they were both keyed up and anxious for different reasons.

She then made things worse by asking if Al wanted to talk about it? Because she knew it might have triggered thoughts of his death and-...

The overlord had JUST enough patience not to snap at her as the smile went taut. "My dear, do keep your new age nonsense to yourself, it's hardly the first time someone down here has tried that, I have a glowing X on my forehead... they do tend to aim for it..."

"Yes but, you were-... and ROSIE was-... if you want to talk about it, I'm here." She grasps his hands, and he looked like he wanted to recoil from the intensity of her care and compassion, which was bordering on the manic side at this point.

"No, as I said it's fine. And besides, it's hardly like the real thing... there were no dogs this time!" His laughter echoes as he fades into shadow, leaving Charlie perplexed and looking to Husk for an answer.

He chugs an entire bottle. "No, absolutely not, he'd kill me if I told you... just don't go bringing hellhounds here unexpectedly, he tends to not respond well. Last one ended up with limbs torn off... but Rosie sewed 'em back on and they got the guy sorted out."

"That's horrible!"

"Eh, death trauma gets us all a little weird, toots..." Angel intones, draped over the lounge seating like it was a risque photoshoot. "I still can't stand being in a dingy bathrooms with faint mint tiles and flickering bulbs. Sends me right into my own head..."

"Oh... is there... anything you need us to change about your room?" She's frantically thinking about what colour scheme his bathroom has, it had been a generic room to begin with before he went pinksplosion on the place.

"Nah, I'm good. There were some green tiles in there, forest green I think it was, but I asked Al to switch it to pink months ago... he made it pink and black, but said if it was all pink id never be able to work out distance from anything if i was hungover. Fucker was right."

Lucifer frowned, "And what little deal did that cost?"

Angel blinked. "Well, I offered to give him the daily special, four hands no questions asked, and he gave me this whack on the head with his microphone thing and laughed. Told me to save it for someone who cared for that sort of thing. Eh, his loss. But he did it cause that's what the facility manager does, right?"

"Hmmm, I really should have thought about what environment could do for our guests and their trauma. Hmmm, good feedback, Angel." she's working herself into a strategising mode.

Vaggie intercedes immediately. "No, no you don't, we're going to get a cup of tea and calm down and then talk about how you're really feeling about all this... bottling it up will just hurt you in the long run. You haven't... seen sinners die and reform like that, the ones you kind of care about, before have you?"

"...no." the voice is smaller.

And suddenly Angel has her and Vaggie off the ground in a deep hug. "Hey, s'okay toots... catches us all off guard. Last time Cherri got killed, I went on a week long bender until she reformed, I didn't know what to do without her, 'cause we did everything together. It's fucked up, but that's how it is..."

"And you're trying to change it, give another option, sweetie. We believe in you, and your dream." Vaggie reminds.

---

Lucifer provides a shot of vitality to the thralls who'd been drained automatically. Feeling they were the real victims here. He wouldn't be able to chase down all the affected, but Husk and Angel and Niffty were in reach.

---

Vox will keep it out of the news to prevent copycats. Vulnerability was the wost thing an overlord could have. There's no way to play at it that every other overlord got hit but not the Vees... too many questions would be raised.

Overlords make a show of being seen in public, brazenly unafraid and seemingly unbothered by the incident.

[Pick a villain for this shitshow. Angelic in nature, orchestrated from someone high in the council, someone who was in the courtroom with Charlie and Emily singing. Not Sera, perhaps one of the as yet unnamed angels, like Uriel or Castiel... for the hell of it.]

Plot Twist: Turns out the bullets were simply a medium to deliver a very specific spell/curse to each overlord. On the inner core of the bullets, something Lucifer notices too late because he got distracted with Charlie and the hotel and ducks and the Sins saw him on TV and wanted to check in and- and- and-... Well, he missed it. With his true Sight, his devil's eyes, it would have been clear as daylight, but... he'd been too focused on trying to work out why the sigil on the base of the bullet was familiar.

Ironically, the sigil was put there because the person who had ordained it all KNEW that Lucifer was easily distracted, and if he had bothered to look into it at all, as he likely would because of Charlotte's connection to the hotel and overlord associated... then that was the most surefire way to divert the angelic adhd nightmare from figuring it out.

Until it was too late.

Once he sees. Or, they should say, once he SEES, it's almost too late to reverse. The curse, the spell, the whatever the fuck it is because it seems to be a mishmash of multiple magical ideals and cultures, like they'd been jammed in a cosmic blender and it just SHOULDN'T BE WORKING but it is...

It's doing something to the Overlords. Soemthing that each initially passed off as residual healing from the attack. It's not usual (to be loved by anyone...) for them to feel...off. Depending on the complexity of the injury and location, and the rapid nature of the regen, it could leave one feeling quite discombobulated.

In short, the spell things are targeted to them individually, and invoked by their blood. How they got scraps of it to even train the spell to begin with is anyone's guess, but Overlords scrap all the time... however, it also leave a sinking feeling in Lucifer's chest that this wasn't some fly-by-night scenario. This had been planned out for a long time. Which didn't bode well.

And then when it was fired, when it entered their heads and (even briefly) touched the blood, the viscera, the gorey internals... the spell activated. Blasting out in a sharp shockwave that imprinted the sigils, the spell, the curse within the regenerating tissue of each overlord. Immediately fed and nourished with the influx of power drawn from thralls to settle and expand.

It is now inside them, hard to claw out. Seeping into their very bones, muscle, tissue. Slowly tightening about their bodies, their minds, their power. They are weakening day by day and it never stops.

By the time it becomes obvious something is wrong, despite the best covering that all the Overlords manage, it's almost too late.

The power keeps going out, the phone networks die at random and the radios shriek. Services managed by Overlords stall without direct input. It's... a lot to deal with.

The anti-Overlords groups taunt and jeer, whipped into a frenzy by their puppet leaders. Ensorcelled sinners under angelic guidance.

----

Propaganda appears talking about how Overlords are dangerous and oppressive, that anyone seeking to rise to that status will be cut down once the current overlords are dead. Pictures of all the overlords deceased at the meeting go viral. Velvette convinces that its a deep deepfake.

Who? Why? What could this mean?

Stryker in here somewhere, orders from above to enact this. Someone with portal power, he was given the chance to work outside of time for only a minute in total, and he was able to enact all those shots simultaneously. He chafed at not being allowed to use his preferred weapon...

The curses start to drain the overlords, and limit their powers, siphoned off to this unknown person or some sort of totemic device (identify for plot).

Lucifer is getting nervous, sure he was leagues above Overlords but anyone who had the power of a dozen could potentially take over several goetia houses, and work on up accruing power from there, right?

Overlords don’t like accepting help or weakness, it takes a LOT to keep these fuckers from dying alone in the dark. Even Odette and Clara struggle to get their mother to truly express that she is hurt, weak, feeling unwell.

Stubborn to the last.

Some seem to shrink in stature. Some go pallid, others darken. Their bodies fighting every step of the way as they are physically forced back to human shape over a rapidly increasing duration. Vox is the most confused, having his human head back all of a sudden was the best and worst thing. Zeezi hadn't been this short in decades. Zestial had forgotten what being human even was.

Rosie... well, she was part hellborn, and it left the spell confused as to how to manage her. Susan staunchly keeps the others from eating her, but calls 'that tiny idiot in the stupid fruit basket hat' to come get her. A human in cannibal town, despite their love an adoration of her, won't last long. Instinct and all.

Their nerves are on fire, the overlords are consistently trying to hide what is happening. At first they manage to snap back into their demonic forms with effort, but as their magic wanes... it becomes increasingly clear that things are Very Wrong.

When it's discovered that they are all trapped in their human forms, Charlie personally collects who she can to bring them to the hotel. Some fight but well, she's a 6ft + super strong princess and they're human. which is to say, she can tuck them under one arm like an aggrieved chihauha at will and sneak them to her car.

The atmosphere of Hell isn't made for the living, and everything is slowly killing them. The air, the water, the lack of sunlight, the magic in everything. The furniture and other sentient things. The plants have a particular interest in eating them. Niffty has to decimate them with fire daily to keep them contained.

Mostly, despite their best efforts to remain mobile and help solve this conundrum, they're too weak for anything. But the idea of being weak, being vulnerable, even to the bleeding hearted princess, is terrifying to the overlords individually and collectively.

Alastor is particularly frustrated for various reasons, as his shadow is no longer animate... which feels like a part of him has atrophied and died. But, also, he's closer to the height of the wretched little King, who is having a great time with that. He's about an inch taller, but Lucifer's not letting that go.

Still, more concerning is that whatever it is has not yet finished with them. You'd assume this was the core of the matter, to turn them human where they'd be eaten alive by all of Hell... or killed by exposure to the atmosphere were the King not (reluctantly in some cases it must be said) providing some healing on a regular basis.

It starts when Velvette collapses, and can't be roused for well over two days. Blood pools unceasingly from-... well, it was clear how she'd passed, unfortunately. Charlie wanted to do mental health first aid the minute the overlord opened her eyes, but thankfully she was talked into Waiting for a more appropriate time.

Then Zeezi seized and hit the floor, and those who knew her recognised her cause of death (it had happened at a 90s rave, and amidst the flashing lights, pressed bodies, thumping techno and free substances no one had seen her seize until they found the body when the lights went up). Her body resisted purging the problem, despite heavenly effort.

The pair seemed locked in this... endless death.

Valentino was next, and that was oddly heartbreaking to see. Damage welling up all over the vindictive man's form, and it was clear he'd been beaten to within an inch of his life by someone. Even Angel, who fucking hated the guy, couldn't find joy in seeing something like this... even if it should have felt like vindication for everything Val did to him. He'd noticed Val had stayed away from the spider this whole time, but Angel had never been someone who'd force himself on others, not even in revenge. He jus didn't know how to say it out loud to the guy, when he wanted to spit in the usually-moth's face.

Three down.

Then Vox... his flesh sizzling and sloughing off as he collapsed. Electrocuted. Ironic. It took some fancy ward-work to stop the endless generation of electrical charge so they could get near enough to help.

[Can't tell when Carmilla died, google it, put her between the two]

Carmilla... well, her wounds were confusing. Some defensive, but strategic. Perhaps she had fought back better than her assailant had assumed? In the end, stab wounds opened on her body, and a glaring one across her throat as she laid on the carpet of her room, her daughters yelling for help.

Charlie had to take them aside and get them to play tetris through tear rimmed eyes (genuine trauma response technique) to calm them down. They'd seen this twice now. And previously, they'd died next, so it was hitting very hard.

Rosie and Alastor refused to say who was next of the two of them, both remaining cagey.

Alastor kept distant from the others, and only Husk had an idea how bad this would be. But he was close enough to Al's room when it happened, first the bullet through his thigh to make sure he couldn't run... then the marks of mauling, and finally a bullet hole between the eyes.

Charlie had screamed and shattered a mirror when she'd run at Husk's yell. Lucifer grimaced, but did what he could as the other fell into the odd coma all the overlords were trapped in.

"Told you... he hates dogs for a reason." Husk shrugged, and walked out. He maintained nonchalance long enough to duck into angel's room, head right to the toilet and throw up the last 18hrs of food because fuck, that was... that was terrible. One thing to know academically, and another to...

Rosie slowly began to freeze, and nothing they did helped, until her limbs locked up tight and water spilled from her lips. She'd been on the titanic, you see, maiden voyage and all. One of the few who decided her lifeboat seat should go to a youngster... but her penchant for eating husbands was weighed against her so, Hell it was.

She's put into a room full of regularly changed warm blankets, the water never stopped.

Zestial simply grew weak and fell into the coma one day, body twitching on occasion. Lucifer originally guessed infirmity or illness... but when he Looked Again he saw the signs of poison.

All of them down, all of them trapped in an endless deathcycle.

What could any of this mean? how was this helping Heaven or Hell or anything?

He's beside himself and calls on the Sins because What. The. FUCK?!

----------

Heavenly interference.

Calls on goetia that monitor the stars. Stolas scries that there is something on Earth on each gravesite that is channelling this downfall's magic.

Uses IMP to go to earth and find the totems, have them bring them to Hell where they can be studied.

Have to siphon out the curse with the totem, and then break it for each overlord, to bounce their power back.

Discover the angel, petition heaven for punishment. Get told too bad so sad.

Some sort of aftermath and dealing with the anti-overlord groups. etc.

ETC

[crtstormie]

Long af rant about Velvette's old design and character as I share my art of her :D

Pilot Velvette/ Og Velvette gives extreme babydoll harley quinn vibes, which is a stark contrast from how she ended up being in the show. I like to imagine that something extreme happened to her, like a horrible breakup or betrayal, and she went all crazy. This is the version of her we see in the pilot. The Voxtagram stories seemed to lean into this, depicting her as more immature, bratty, and murderous. She also depended more on Vox and Val like she saw them more as father figures than co-workers. (Just a thought.) However, as she adapted more to the landscape of hell she became the Velvette in the show; A fashion icon girlboss who is much more independent and while not serious, much more mature than her pilot counterpart, and even the other Vees. They ditched her psycho vibe to replace it with something that made more sense to her character.

Something that I personally wonder is: Why was Velvette like this in the beginning if she was meant to focus on fashion? A puffy Lolita dress goes against the Vees whole idea of being up to date, so what was the original vision for her? People have complained about Velvette already having too much going on for her, being both the overlord of fashion, master of social media, backbone of the vees, selling a love potion, etc. If those ideas were already there, did they just think a crazy serial killer girl would be even more extra clutter to her personality? 

A concept many fans I've talked with is if the Vees personalities in the pilot stayed. Val would be pretty much the same, but the other two were almost different characters. In the Voxtagram stories, Vox let Val beat him around, had a goofy pet, and seemed to care less about his public image to remain more villainous. Velvette I already discussed was extremely different, the only thing connecting her to our Velvette is her connection with the Vees and fashion.  In this universe, would Velvette see Vox and Val as toxic dads who kept breaking up and getting back together again, instead of seeing them as equals and KEEPING THEM TOGETHER? it's a wild shift. 

Essentially, Pilot Velvette acted more like a bratty little girl, while her show version acts more like a annoyed but controlling teen. We see her pilot look as her profile picture, so this 'phase' of hers is still canon. I know she already died as an adult, which is why I'm so curious as to why she originally acted this way. Did Viv think she would be a better contrast to Vox and Val like this? To be fair, a spoiled brat AND annoyed girlboss are both contrasts of their personalities, just two different approaches. Was their originally going to be a backstory for her as to why she was this way? or was she just crazy to BE manipulative? or you know, just liked murder while looking cute like Niffty. speaking of Niffty…

I think Niffty is the most likely reason why they changed Velvette's design and personality. we already have a little crazy girl who admires 2 men she sees as older figures and enjoys murder for mysterious reasons. It mightv'e seemed a little counter-intuitive if there was 2 versions of the same character stereotype. Another reason they could've changed her is that she stands out more. If we're supposed to take Velvette as an overlord seriously, how are we supposed to do that when she leans back on the other two guys and looks like she's from a horror movie? Sure, I'm positive pilot Velvette could've been intimidating at times when she got legitimately frightening. however, this didn't seem like her vibe 95% of the time. It might've made her blend more into the background of the Vees than she practically already does. (Which is just a problem for female Vivzie characters but that's a whole separate rant.)

A headcanon of mine is that this was just her psycho little girl brat phase, and she is hella embarrassed over it. like a teen being embarrassed over their phases of when they were a kid. and Vox and Val would constantly piss her off by reminding her of it. That could lead to some fun banter in the future I would love to see as a reference to the pilot. 

Anyways, sorry for the literal Essay I wrote here again, just a ton of over-analyzing which I'm best at. Personally, I do vibe with Velvette's new design and character for the show, I just cant help but think of why she used to be so different and arguably had the BIGGEST character shift from pilot to show In Hazbin Hotel.