ᝰ.ᐟ earth predators do not concern themselves with the things hidden in the black abbyss of the ocean. but is there any darker, abbysser, ocean than hell itself? where Overlords have already marked their territory and rule between them, they are completely unaware to the apex predator hidding amongst them. To the ancient monsters who see only a child, she is an amusing novelty, a minnow to be swallowed by the leviathans of the abyss. They do not yet comprehend that the minnow is, in truth, a Megalodon.
( MEGALODON ) teen! overlord! reader !!
❝ but no one is someone until I tell them who ❞
✧. ┊ synopsis
This is the chronicle of how you, the Megalodon in a black sea of disgrace and misery, use your chilling charm, your theatrical cruelty, and your absolute lack of conscience to turn Hell's established order into your personal feeding ground. You will weave alliances with those who amuse you, like the strangely intrigued Alastor, and shatter the empires of those who bore you, like the increasingly panicked Vees, all while performing the role of the sweet, smiling girl for an audience of damned souls who can't help but adore you even as you tear their world apart. Your goal is not mere power; it is to prove that the smallest and most unexpected predator can, and will, become the apex of all creation, forcing Hell itself to bend to the rhythm of your terrible, joyful grin.
✧. ┊ chapters
concept art , fanart!! , fanart 2!! , fanart 3!! + more soon to be added !!
✧. ┊ taglist
( 🏷 @callme-holly , @johnnycadesmuse , @mygoldtears , @yvanill4+ comment to be added !! )
WARNINGS : canon typical violence, slurs, cannibalism (Rosie). the reader is NOT a good person, she is an Overlord in hell for reasons you'll eventually learn. this is a fic that is not pre-intended to take any romantic direction, however, as it evolves and interactions between characters grow and twist, maybe something will happen<3
Warnings: Cussing and mentions of fucking. A bit sad for Lucifer.
ALASTOR — VOX’S ASSISTANT
Alastor would hate the fact he knew he is jealous. He would think it made him weak, but he hated the fact you were so close to Vox more.
Would constantly be petty towards Vox, and it would take the media overlord a moment to realize why Alastor was acting like that.
However, when Vox did figure it out, he would be non-stop laughing. He would even up how much he touch you just to piss off Alastor.
You weren’t aware of Alastor’s jealousy, after all he was always mean towards Vox.
The radio demon. Feared throughout all of pride. the strongest sinner in hell. There was nothing Alastor couldn't achieve, couldn't attain. He never thought his rivalry with Vox would bring him to you. He never expected to grow fond of your company.
The idea alone was weak, and he wanted to refuse that statement. However, watching you laughing with the media overlord, Vox himself, he knew the pit in his stomach was caused from that fondness.
You made him weak, and he should be trying to fix that. Instead, he put his priority on putting himself between you and the tv-demon every opportunity he got.
"Vox!" The second you noticed him you immediately jumped up from the chairs you and Alastor sat on.
Static emitted from the overlord, his irritation obvious to everyone else but you. Granted he had been strapped to a chair for a week so Vox could only assume it was all finally getting to him.
"How did the rally go?"
Before he could answer your question, Alastor pushed his spinning chair between the two of you. Rolling over Vox's toes in the process.
"I can't believe he needed a borrowed spy to get an advantage." His laugh was mocking. "I mean that's just pathetic!"
The two men narrowed their eyes at one another. An awkward silence pressed into the thick air.
Eventually the two of you ignored Alastor and started to walk away from him. Indulging in conversation between the two of you, completely leaving the radio star out.
Are you serious? Alastor bitterly thought.
He used his feet to push across the floor of Vox's bedroom. Trying to hurry and reach you before the door slammed in his face.
He continued to follow after you guys, constantly butting into conversation. Anything to piss off Vox and put himself in a better light.
It irritated him that you couldn't see that he was more deserving of your attention than some tv man that needed a partnership in order to have his status.
"Alastor, is your eye okay?" Finally, you stopped to look at him. "It keeps twitching."
"I must say the sound of tv strains my ears, perhaps we could go somewhere more private, alone."
Vox stared and suddenly started laughing. Full blown clutching his stomach in pain laughing. "Oh my-" Vox couldn't even get a sentence out much to your confusion and Alastor's annoyance. "You the radio demon?!"
Slowly he started to catch his breath again.
"I must say, old pal, green sure looks good on you."
VOX — VELVETTE'S PHOTOGRAPHER
Vox is possessive as hell, he already hates your working for Velvette, and not him.
So, when Velvette's shoot runs way longer than it should be, Vox didn't hesitate before marching down to Vel's side of the tower.
He expected a fire, a life-or-death situation — not you and her giggling like schoolgirls.
He would be petty all night long, and make snide comments about the two of you, and how you weren't even working. He'd partly be mean, but you would instantly catch onto what his problem actually was.
You were supposed to be down three hours ago. You spent all day, every day taking photos of Velvette and her models. Sometimes you would do Valentino or even Vox himself.
You were committed to your job, so when you started fucking Vox, CEO of Voxtek. you didn't think he'd be so whiny about it.
The man had stomped his way through Vee tower, workers immediately noticing his sour mood. He expected someone to be dead, and if someone wasn't he would make sure someone was before he left.
Who in their right mind would take away the only time Vox got to have with you? '
The answer: his own fucking business partner, Velvette.
The two of you were giggling, laughter flying from the two of you like two sirens luring a man to his death.
You two were huddled together, closely, and you didn't even have a camera in your hands. Sparks flicked from Vox's hands, anger lacing the air he breathed. He would be sure to punish you for making him feel this torturous feeling.
He grabbed you, not even letting you say goodbye to your dear friend. "We're leaving." Was all Velvette got, and in return Vox got a "Fuck you!" from her.
The entire walk back Vox wouldn't shut up, electronics glitching all around him.
"You're wasting fucking money, milking the clock like that." His lips tilted into a frown. "Your so fucking lucky you're decent at fucking."
"Who do you think you are, leaving me waiting like that?"
Before he could continue, you pulled his hand away from your arm. Your own anger getting a hold of you. "First of all, you don't get to speak to me like I'm some whore — because you're not that decent at fucking." Granted you liked when he talked like that when actually in bed, but that wasn't the point.
"Secondly, if I didn't know any better, I'd say your jealous." A blue blush formed on his screen.
LUCIFER — A HOTEL RESIDENT
Lucifer is a very insecure man. His wife left him, and he isolated himself for so long.
He would try to hide his envy, embarrassed for such a feeling. After all, he's the sin of pride, and it really hurt when it was knocked out with jealousy.
You were kind and always understanding to others around you. You were the good this hotel needed, and Lucifer admired you. He just wishes he could speak up and not let that dumb radio take his spotlight. First his daughter, now you?
However, you immediately notice something off about the king.
The hotel was bussing with all kinds of sinners. Husk, the bar keep, was constantly making drinks, Nifty picking up after everyone, and Vaggie was taking on her role in the hotel spectacularly.
So, shouldn't Alastor, the bellhop, be doing his job as well? Instead, he was too busy spending all of his time with you. Whenever he didn't run off in his shadow, he was around you — directly in Lucifer view.
The king tried not to let it get to him, after all he couldn't dictate you. That was part of his gift of free will, you could choose to spend time with whoever you wanted. Even if it was some stupid red-looking Bambi.
He really did try.
That's why it hurt so much when the dread in his body didn't go away. You were laughing and smiling with Alastor, not him. What were you talking about?
You were clearly enjoying your time. But why couldn't you see that he could be so much more than him. Just look his way, just one chance, he only wanted at lease one.
Was he even allowed to be jealous, when he still wore his wedding ring?
Slowly he fell back into that pit of depression, like it was always waiting for him. He avoided you, tried not to listen to you thanking Alastor. He surrounded himself in the hollow emptiness of his room.
It hurt, seeing the man you were growing close to push back up his shell. Had you done something wrong? He only needed to talk to you.
You had missed your conversations, something you confided in Alastor.
Lucifer watched from the stairs, looking down at the two of you. Charlie approached her dad, noticing her father's change as well.
"Dad? Are you alright?"
Alastor hand placed on your shoulder, and he offered you a comforting smile.
No.
"Of course."
ADAM — AN EXTERMINATOR
Adam was many things, but jealous? He would never admit that no matter how true it was.
The thing is, he lost two wives to the same man, and he hadn't even intentionally done anything wrong. So, when he met you? His insecurities constantly picked at him in the back of his mind.
He honestly never expected to be jealous of Lute of all people.
The two of you would constantly team up on things, and while hot at first, slowly he felt his fear rise. You didn't pick up on any of his flirting, and when you finally realize, you're there. With him.
Adam often thought of Lilith and Eve. He questioned why they would do everything they did, he could only think; because of me.
It hurt, to be rejected like that, so no matter how many chicks he fucked that fear never went away. In fact, it flourished when he met you.
He liked the fact you and Lute were close, the two of you could rely on each other on the battlefield. But with battle came a closeness that teared at him.
Everyone knew the two of you, Adams lackies, but you were so much more — and Adam knew that. He knew you guys were more, and if you were more than him, how could you ever look at him?
He flirted, constantly talked himself up, tried everything in the book with you. You never noticed.
You always brushed him off to the side, never taking him seriously, but he was. He was deadly serious, and slowly even Lute started noticing it.
It wasn't until you found him drunk in his office when everything came to light.
Bottles littered the ground, and you took every step with precision. "What are you doing here?" His question was slurred; you were surprised he could even still speak with all the alcohol here.
"Bringing you home, Lute bailed." His eyes rolled at the sound of her name on your tongue.
"Lute, Lute, Lute." He mocked your voice, spite surging him on. "It's always Lute, and never Adam."
Your confusion was obvious, your brows furrowed. "What are you talking about, sir?"
A loud groan filled the office covered in gold. Even now, you still weren't listening to him. What did he have to do for you? He would do anything; he just needed guidance.
"I told you to call me Adam." He raised from his desk, blood rushing to his head. "I tell you we should go out," he wasn't stopping. "I tell you, that we would be amazing together, and you never fucking listen to me."
His envy came to light, "But you have no problem taking Lute at her word."
You were shocked, to put it simply. Had he really felt like this? Could you listen to drunken words? You wanted too; you really did.
He took steps towards you, stumbling over his feet. You were quick to leap towards him, catching him was harder than you thought.
The both of you trampled onto the floor, and you took the brunt of it. Adam hurried to roll off you but made no effort in getting up. Neither did you.
"If you ask me out tomorrow, I'll say yes." Was the last thing he heard before he passed out, missing the rest of your words. "You jealous buffoon."
LUTE — AN EXTERMINATOR
Lute’s jealousy would be obsessive. In fact, she would go out of her way just to ensure you never talked to Vaggie.
Vaggie had already taken Adam’s attention and now she was taking yours? She should be in hell.
You were clearly taken to the fact that Vaggie continued to get closer and closer to you was sinful. She enjoyed taking the woman’s eye, now she could no longer look at you.
All was good in heaven. That’s what Lute was told, and for a while she believed it. She met you here, fell in love. You were everything she wanted in a partner.
You yourself ranked up high in Adam’s army. Always impressing others, not only Lute. You couldn’t count how many times she had complained that others couldn’t mind their business.
So when she held rage in her eyes as she pushed between you and Vaggie, before the extermination, you weren’t surprised.
“Keep your head focus,” she muttered to you before turning her viscous glare to Vaggie. “And you need to stop distracting everyone.”
Vaggie never actually distracted people, you all knew that. Lute was simple unable to handle her emotions.
The woman just might be crazy.
When the portal opened to hell, Lute kept her eye on Vaggie rather than you. She followed her, waiting for her to make just one mistake. All she needed to do was make one mistake and then Lute would be free of her.
Adam immediately noticed Lute follow after, and he too agreed that the woman just might be a little crazy. Still Adam respected Lute’s decision.
The moment Vaggie let that little kid go, she had sealed her fate.
Lute’s sword swing down on Vaggie’s eye. That was for you. Then she ripped off her wings, that was for her.
VELVETTE — A VOXTEK SHOW HOST
Velvette isn't one to let her emotions simmer. She acts, because why would she wait for something she can just have now.
Would run smear campaigns against your co-host, until he eventually was kicked off. She wouldn't harm your image, however after all she posts online every follower she had agreed that you should do your show alone from now on.
Isn't one to admit it, and you would never acknowledge it, so long as it doesn't hurt you then you don't care what she does.
Velvette always has an eye for what looks good, what looks right. You two looked good together, you and your co-host did not.
Vox wanted to bash his head when polls about your co-host creditability plummeted all over hell. Velvette was making thing harder, all because she was 'getting her knickers in a twist.'
You couldn't help but laugh at how Vel was hanging around the studio. Making it a point to kiss you in front of the other sinner at the desk.
You didn't mind; you didn't much like your co-star either. So, when you showed up to work with the news you had your own show to yourself, you were ecstatic.
Velvette deemed it all worth it to Vox when she came home to your gratefulness'. You spent all night kissing away each and every single envious thought from her body.
Hazbin hotel soulmate AU where you and your soulmate can both share each other’s pain.
Growing up, you never cried from any phantom pain at all, and when you were taken to the doctor, tests said that you were one of the 0.001% that had a soulmate who was already long dead by the time you were born. This kind of ruined your life. Everyone else had someone, and you were stuck with someone you’d never even know. You got bullied a lot for being the outlier.
However, one benefit is that you were always able to get into a ton of fights. Sure it resulted in a bunch of shady stuff that got you killed, but you didn’t have it in you to care. No soulmate, no reason to live like you’re made of glass. The doctors at your local hospital knew you by name and practically reserved a room for you.
So when you ended up in Hell, it terrified you when pain shot through your arm and you’d done nothing. You guessed that because you were as dead as your soulmate, you two could feel each other’s pain.
You told this to one of your friends from the gang you’d joined, and she’d stared at you like you’d grown a second head before laughing.
“Oh, Y/N. No, the scientists got it wrong because Heaven and Hell exist. If only one of you is alive, the dead soulmate will still feel it.”
Ah. You’d lost quite a bit of empathy being down here, but you still felt kinda bad for your soulmate. You’d caused them a lot more injuries than they’d ever made for you.
Eventually, you would meet them for the first time. The bond snaps into place as you two stare at each other. You’re left speechless - but your soulmate speaks before you can even process what’s going on.
“You.” They point a finger at you in total shock and outrage. “What the hell is wrong with you, you masochist?! I’ve never met anyone who gets hurt as much as you did! What the fuck?!”
And that’s the very first thing your soulmate ever says to you.
𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — the Vee's were known to make sinners famous and then throw them away like it was nothing. But what happens if they take more interest in you than an ordinary work relationship?
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — smut, let's get this together shall we? oral (f/m recieving), fingering, unprotected p in v, praise kink, dom/sub vibes, degradation if you squint, bad Spanish cuz I only had it for a year. mirror fucking, table fucking, I guess that's it? no foursome...but maybe in the future ;)
𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — so I didn't make them have foursome, but trust I will (in another fic) don't be shy to give feedback! I feel like I could have done more, especially with Val...and I'd love to continue this thing soo tell me if you're interested!
taglist
Velvette snapped her fingers, annoyence painting her features as her models stood in front of her. None of them gave her what she wanted, no design looked exceptional enough to be cast on social media.
“I don’t think ruffles should be worn anymore,” a voice stated behind her, lips pressed into a thin line she turned around to face you. “And who might you be to make such a decision?” she barked to which you jumped back slightly. The models glanced at each other, sure to witness one of Velvette’s outbursts.
“Your new model?” you told her nervously. “Is that a question or an answer?” her voice was sharp, taking slow steps towards you. As far as Velvette’s knowledge reached, there shouldn’t be a model coming.
“Answer, it’s an answer. I sent in my application a few months ago…it got accepted last week,” you found the courage to speak up, feeling smaller under her devious eyes.
Something about you intrigued her in some way, if you had enough confidence to speak up against her then you should have enough sense to prove it. “Well then, show us what should be worn or lose your life,” she gave you a sickly-sweet smile, gesturing to her models and fabric.
You wished the ground would swallow you whole, as much as you dreamed of working for Velvette, you wouldn’t call yourself an expert in fashion. Wanting to keep your life however, made you grasp for everything your mind could comprehend that the moment. Taking a black skirt, glittery belt and matching top, you handed them to a girl in front of you who watched you with judgemental eyes.
Ignoring her you continued searching for jewellery and something to make the outfit stand out. One glance at Velvette gave you everything you needed, maybe it was a foolish idea to take inspiration from her current outfit but what choice did you have?
“Done,” you told her, the model fully dressed while you fought the urge to bite your nails. Velvette rested her elbow on her hip, scanning over the sinner. “It’s not terrible,” a backhanded compliment slipped past, a compliment none the less which had you sigh in relieve. She circled the model, adjusting a few pieces of fabric and tilted her head, “we could add this pattern to the new collection,” she mumbled to herself.
“Congratulations darling, you’ve just been promoted,” she stated and called her seamstress over to take notes and order new fabric. You were sure you were hallucinating, “what?” your voice small, scared to even move.
“Are you deaf? You have been promoted,” she snapped shooting a glare your way, you swallowed, unsure of what to do now and Velvette seemed to notice, rolling her eyes she grabbed your arm, “don’t just stand there, you’ve got new responsibilities as head model.”
“I’m not sure if-,” “shut it, you’ll do what I tell you,” Velvette cut you off, leaving no room for arguments – not that you’d dare to disagree with an overlord. Still, you questioned what she thought you were capable of.
Velvette took an interesting liking in you, she didn’t scream at you as often as she did to her models or assistant, no she was fairly calm on you. Although she still snapped at you, especially when you couldn’t think of the pose, she wanted you to do – she never told you, more like expecting you to read her mind.
Still, something about her made you enjoy working with her. Another thing you had noticed was her habit of lingering touches, it was like she always needed to have her hands on you in some way and the worst part? You enjoyed it.
As delusional as you were, you thought it meant something, but Velvette didn’t do more than that she just teased. Maybe her way of flirting was giving you the best jobs she had, or she enjoyed seeing you suffer.
You took a deep breath, staring at yourself in the mirror. By now it wasn’t unusual for Vel to dress you up, after all you were a model, but lingerie wasn’t on your usual list of clothes. A knock on the door snapped you from your thoughts, “darling, are you ready? We gotta finish this before Valentino throws another tantrum,” her voice rang through before she stepped inside.
Her eyes landed on you, breath catching in her throat. You looked marvellous, the pink-black lace hugging your curves perfectly. A golden pendant in the shape of a skull dangling between your breasts – courtesy of Velvette – and heart shaped chains complementing your thong and warming your skin.
You were a sight for sore eyes, “my you look exquisite,” she purred, coming closer and lifting her hands to stroke along your waist.
“Velvette,” you whispered, not knowing how to respond. A shiver ran down your spine as she kneaded your flesh. She casted you a wicked smirk, turning you around to face the mirror again. “Might as well keep you all to myself, they don’t deserve to see you,” she planted light kissed down the back of your neck.
A breathy gasp escaped you, for a moment you thought this was a dream but as her right hand pushed past the hem of your panties.
She pressed her thumb on your clit, rubbing tight circles as she left open-mouthed kissed along your shoulder blades. Then let her ring and middle finger play with your mound, drawing a shuddering moan from you.
You closed your eyes, hand shooting out to hold onto Velvette’s arm. "No, open your eyes and look at yourself," she demanded, gripping your jaw and making you feel her strength, "taking my fingers like a good girl." Her voice low, warm breath against your ear, you never felt hotter than with her behind you.
"Fuck, you're as wet as a bitch in heat," Vel giggled, curling her fingers against your soft walls. Pleasure consumed you, not being able to look away. It was a fascinating image, a feared overlord standing behind you with her hand pleasuring you and getting off on the thought of breaking you.
Slowly she released her hand, trailing to your throat, “look at me darling,” she commanded, voice angelic and hard to resist. Her hand fit around you like a necklace.
Through the mirror you found her eyes, making you squeeze around her fingers. "Mhm, are you coming? You're a nice girl, ask mommy if can," Velvette had you at her full mercy, no doubt relishing in your submission.
The way she massaged your spongy walls made you yearn for more, though your orgasm wouldn't come easy. They never did but with Velvette it felt closer, reachable.
"Can I please come, mommy?" you begged, tears stinging in your eyes. Every ounce of control you ever thought you had gone, drowning in pleasure and you didn't even realise that from now on you would belong to Velvette even more than before.
"I'm not sure if I should let you...do you deserve it? Do you even love mommy?" she edged you, she knew it and she knew how to use your weak state for her gain, slowing her movements down. "Yes, yes, of course I love you mommy, I'm so thankful!" you whined, bucking your hips against her hand, the words melting easily from your tongue. Every demon outside could hear you.
You shakily moaned as her fingertips pressed against your sweet spot, a tight feeling spreading in your stomach. Velvette had her left hand still on your throat, but you clawed at the table with compact breaths as you chanted her name over and over again like a prayer.
Nails digging into the wood, her thumb flicking your clit and fingers curling. “Then come, darling,” she demanded, letting go of your throat to steady you around your waist, “come on my fingers, show mommy how desperate you are for her.”
You were, your orgasm came crashing down on you. Nothing could tone down your moan, but Vel swallowed your mouth with hers. Almost muting your sounds, the kiss made you think you’re in heaven.
As you came down from your high everything downed on you. Lips still locked with Vel's in a passionate kiss. Then began freaking out, breaking the kiss, "Satan, I'm so fucking sorry! We- we shouldn't have done this, oh it's so inappropriate," you ripped your hands from her.
"Darling, stop fussing! It's alright, we're in hell. Do you really think there are rules?" she catches your arms, keeping you still. "No?" you answered hesitantly and receiving a snort from her, "exactly, now get on your knees and eat mommy," a simple command as she turned your around and pushed you down.
Velvette pulled her skirt up, revealing her naked cunt, "did you plan this?" you asked, for once bolder which made her smirk, "I had a hunch," she shrugged.
You gave a careful lick on her puffy folds, "now don't be shy," she fisted your hair, stuffing you deeper into her cunt. You grumbled before eagerly lapping her pussy causing vibration to roll through her body. Your tongue flicked her bundle of nerves. The feeling had her preening for you and then it exploded, the knot in her stomach became too tight.
A loud pornographic moan erupted from her throat as pure bliss of pleasure washed over her, “darling!"
"You're coming awfully fast mommy," you teased as you heard her chant for you.
"Now you're getting sassy?" she question, rolling her hip into your mouth, breathing heavily. Meanwhile you continued tongue-fucking her through her orgasm. You didn't think giving another woman pleasure would consume you as much as it did. Velvette made you crazy – in a good, addicting kind of way.
She preened at the way your mouth felt on her pussy, hand moving from your hair to the nape of your neck then stopped your movements which had her whining, "we're gonna have so much fun, darling."
----
A grim expression blasted on Vox face, sometimes he wondered if sinners had a lobotomy before arriving in hell. All he needed was one person with a saint mind, a person who wouldn’t fuck up the first second they entered Voxtek.
He personally thought keeping track of demons who died during extermination wasn’t hard or at least noticeable when they don’t turn up for work the next day. Well, apparently it was the oppisite, not only did his assistant – Ethan – forget, no he wasn’t even the one informing him. It was the producers, calling frantically because they couldn’t film a cooking show without a pretty face to keep the ratings up.
At first Vox shouted at the producers after they told him Ethan knew…let’s just say he’s lucky to be walking. He ran several ideas through his processors until he ultimately had to ask Velvette for help.
“Velvette, my fav-,” “what do you want Vox?” she immediately cut him off as he entered her studio with his hands resting on his back and voice a note to sweet for him. He sighed at being busted the first second he walked in, “could I burrow one of your models? The girl for this cooking, baking shit died during the last extermination. I need the prettiest you’ve got, the last thing I need is bad ratings,” he grumbled.
Alarms went off in Velvette’s head, you were still trying on new dresses and were the most beautiful model she had but she couldn’t let Vox know that. “All my models are pretty V,” she distracted him, of course they weren’t all pretty, pretty, “let me just look, yeah babe?” she called out before vanishing.
You turned around with a startled expression when you heard Velvette barging into your room and closing the door behind you. “Vel, is everything-,” “okay, listen you’re gonna stay in here until I tell you to come out. No peeking, no sound, nothing,” Vel told you sternly.
Confusion was written all over your face, “are there exorcists out there?” you chuckled, trying to lift the mood. “Darling, this is serious. I won’t share you with Vox-,” “why not Vel? We’re team after all,” Vox had zapped into the room through a camera, a sly smirk on his screen as he stood behind your boss.
She shrieked, jumping towards you, “for fucks sake Vox! I told you to wait, not teleport in here and disrupt my meeting,” Velvette snapped at him, but he didn’t care, his eyes only stayed on you. He waved her off before gently pushing her to the side in order to have more space. Vox took your hand, “Vox, a pleasure to meet you though you’ve probably already heard of me.” Yeah, Vel wasn’t lying when she said he had a big ego, though what you hadn’t expected was how hot he was up close.
“Nice to meet you too,” you said, telling him your name and shaking his hand. “Now Velvette, that’s a face for television,” he exclaimed, sound effects echoing through the walls, “I know that’s why I wanted to keep her from you,” she complained, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
He said your name, a light drawl to catch your attention, “would you like to star in one of my most watched shows? All you need to do is bake a little cake and give a smile to die for,” his offer sounded tempting. However, you weren’t sure if it was his voice that made you consider it or the opportunity.
Hesitantly you look over to Vel who was glaring at her partner, “you can’t steal her, she’s mine,” she argued and stepped between Vox and you.
The overlord suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead wraps an arm around her shoulders, “imagine how much publicity you would get! Dressed in your new fashion line and new pictures for social media...,” he trailed off, knowing exactly how Velvette loved hearing that.
“I could accept that but-,” she turned back around facing you, “darling, be honest do want to work for Vox?” Scared of saying the wrong thing you agreed, it wasn’t uncommon for the Vee’s to share...right? “Lucky you V,” spoke to Vox with a wife grin, British accent bleeding through, “have her back in one piece. I still need her gorgeous body.”
You stood there, a bit dumbfounded where you about to leave with Vox now? “If he gives you trouble just yell at him. Hell knows he can be a little bitch,” Velvette added, hands on your shoulders to get a good look at you before reluctantly giving you over to Vox.
Vox slide his hand around your waist, “let’s have some fun shall we doll?” he chuckled, guiding you out of Vel’s studio. Heat creeped up your neck at his touch, if someone would’ve told you a month ago what working for Velvette would turn into you wouldn’t have believed them.
He pushed you inside another studio, filled with cameras and spotlights. Demons were scattering around seemingly stressed. “Johnny, here’s your new star,” Vox voiced sounded behind you, a light edge to his charming smile. Said dinner jumped up, not expecting to be face to face with the overlord.
“Mr. Vox, I didn’t- oh, thank you so much. I promise you it won’t happen again-,” “I know it won’t! Because next time it’s your life on the line,” Vox leaned down, face impossibly close to Johnny who coward slightly. Vox tone was low – and dangerous – enough to not alert everyone, though you were able to hear him.
“Get her ready!” the overlord barked at the workers who were quick to shove you into a dressing room. One gave you a skin tight dress with too much cleavage, coloured in a dark blue with one light blue stripe circling the seams. To top it all off, you wore a red apron that has black accents to it. You looked like Vox, to be more specific.
They did your make-up and hair, then threw you out in the open with a loose script. “Read from the teleprompter, do what the recipe says and look hot,” were all the instructions you got before the cameras were rolling.
Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you caught Vox eyes as he sat behind the director. Thighs spread wide, one arm laying over the armrest with his phone in hand while resting his chin on his knuckles, elbow supporting his weight. He looked powerful, something stirred inside you at the sight.
A shout from the director snapped you from your mind, remembering why you were actually here. Swiftly you gathered all ingredients as you talked absolute nonsense.
Had Vox enough on his plate to keep him busy until the next extermination, sure but you were a sight he didn’t want to miss. He specifically picked the dress for you, although it being from Velvette’s fashion line he knew you had to wear his colours, add to that how almost half your ass was showing.
When he asked, he’d say he just wanted to make sure you did your job, that he didn’t want any further mistake but in reality, he got hard from watching you act like a domestic housewife.
Furthermore, it couldn’t hurt to make his presence known to his employees who had apparently forgotten who they’re dealing with. To his fortune everything went smoothly, you were perfect if he may say so. Smiling into the camera, laughing with silly jokes and apologising for minor mistakes and making them seem like they were on purpose.
The director yelled ‘cut’ after you said your goodbyes, praising you for excellent work. They told you to take a break before starting the next episode. It made you wonder how long you’d be here.
As you walked back, you caught Vox eye. Throughout the entire filming process he never lost sight of you and could always feel his burning stare on you. It crossed your mind to ask him what he thought, if he liked it but a part of you saw it as desperation.
In a swift motion Vox stood up, following you in slow steps. You didn’t even notice him until he closed the door behind him, coming to stand against your back, “what a wonderful show, doll,” he whispered into your ear.
You shivered, enjoying his praise – even more knowing it wasn’t something a sinner got easily. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you told him, trying to keep your tone even. He hummed, hands falling on your shoulders and looking at you through the mirror.
You were speechless, and your mind was running wild. Is that why he chose you? Because he wanted a quick fuck? As if he couldn’t get anyone. "If you think that they include whoring myself out, you're wrong," you snapped, not trusting his calmness.
He chuckled at that, he loved how you played hard to get. “Vel teached you good,” he nodded before pulling you flush against his hard chest, reflexively your hands flew against his broad shoulders. “Prove me wrong then,” he challenged you, pressing his lips against yours, tongue gliding along your upper lip.
Caught up in the moment you accepted his tongue into your mouth, his kiss was hot and filled with hunger. There went your question if it was possible to kiss a TV screen.
It felt like he was swallowing you. Not only his aura was screaming dominance but also his actions did as he lightly bit into your bottom lip to keep your mouth open. You melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck. With a heavy breath Vox broke the kiss, wearing a satisfied smirk, “you seem to quite enjoy this doll.”
In response you smiled, “it is highly unprofessional, you should know this,” you tried to keep your voice hard, knowing it was a useless thought as you already trespassed that line with Velvette.
"Of course, doll, keep saying it until you believe it," he muttered, pushing your legs open with his thigh to stand in between. Successfully distracting you.
“What?” you asked confused, eyes fighting to stay open as you gripped onto his suit. In response he shook his head, continuing his way down your cleavage. Letting his claws move down to your thigh, he lifted your leg to pull you closer to him. The way he manoeuvred your body made you feel his hard erection.
You whimpered in order to supress a moan slipping from your lips, “Vox.” He knew exactly what he was doing, “I like the way you say my name, I want to hear you scream it.” He hooked his fingers around your panties, revealing how right he was. “Look at that, you’re fucking wet for me,” he sounded taunting, but you would bet he was satisfied with himself.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair how you’re still fully dressed?” you questioned with raised brows, not knowing you could muster up this much confidence at the moment.
“Do you think this is any way to speak to me?” his tone became dark, throwing your panties across the room. With one sentence he destroyed your confidence, “I’m sorry sir,” you instantly apologized.
Vox fingers traced along your cunt, spreading your juice over your skin, “feel how wet you are for me?” he tsked, pushing his middle and pointer finger into your pulsing core. You bit down on your lower lip, suppressing a moan. Though you had a flashback to your first night with Velvette.
“Squeezing my fingers huh, doll?” Vox pulled his fingers from you. Then he undid his pants, letting his hard member free. Your gaze fell down to his cock, his leaking tip hitting his stomach.
You’d never thought you would say this, but he looked too pretty. “You’re so pretty,” you mumbled, your mind not functioning properly, it didn’t even surprise you as those words left your mouth. With no warning he thrusted his cock inside your aching pussy, not caring if it hurt.
This time you couldn’t contain any sounds, you screamed loudly, clawing onto the wooden table. “Feel me stretching you doll?” he smirked, pulling out but leaving his tip inside, just barley to tease you. Then he pushed in, with a hard pace he pummelled in and out of you.
You couldn’t help yourself, clenching around him, wrapping your legs around his hips which made him grin, “don’t want me leaving doll?” Vox ego was bigger than anything else. Shaking your head you tried to keep the grip as tight as possible, he felt like heaven, he filled you perfectly and hit your sweet, sensitive spot in all the right ways.
“I can feel you getting tighter doll, be a good girl and come...then you can milk my cock of every last drop,” he leaned down, whispering into your ear, hand coming up to your throat to keep you in position. Table shaking uncontrollably. “Yes, sir,” you caved, letting the tight knot in your stomach explode. You tried holding onto his wrist, but your grip slipped.
With satisfaction Vox fucked you through your orgasm. He let out a strangled groan at the way you gripped him like a vice. Seeing you have your climax made him follow you suit, roads of white cum painted your swollen walls. He grunted, slightly tightening his hold on your throat, making you release a choking sound.
“We’re not going to let you go, you belong to us, right doll?” he growled, tilting your had up. You tried nodding, “yes, sir,” agreeing with a blissful smile.
----
Valentino strode through the halls of the Vee tower, bored out of his mind with no one to fuck and given how much he loved Velvette, he decided on spending that time with her – maybe also choose one of her servants to tease.
“Baby doll!” he announced himself with a posh british accent, wings fluttering a little. All eyes turned to him. Velvette was measuring your arm, turning her head to her partner with a tired expression. She enjoyed her time with him but didn’t have the time right now, “Val, what is it?” she asked, pinching her brows together.
“Ooh someone is stressed,” he chuckled, flouncing down in one of the armchairs. One pair of arms crossing over each other as the other two rested on the chair. “No, I just have to get this done and you’re distracting my juju,” she responded, stepping aside to get more fabric which was when Val noticed you.
A dangerous grin creeping on his face, showing his teeth, “well, hello to you, amorcita,” he cooed, “you would look amazing on camera,” resting his chin on the back of his hand.
Velvette’s eyes snapped towards him, “you abso-fucking-lutly forget it, you are not stealing my model too,” she told him sternly, pushing you further away from him. Meanwhile, you just stood there watching them, a little intrigued.
“Come on amorcita, you’re so beautiful,” he added, so sure of himself it made you wonder if those lines actually worked with other demons. “Thank you, but- uh, no it’s not really my cup of tea,” you decline, catching Vel’s eye, she gave you a approved nod which made you feel more comfortable.
“Really? Because-,” Val couldn’t finish his sentence as his phone started vibrating. Angel Dust was calling him, he held a finger up like he was pausing the discussion.
At first his tone was calm, the he began shouting, “the fuck does that mean, you can’t come? I own you’re fucking soul! You will come- no, what? Angel Dust that flimsy hotel is not-,” the call ended, not because Val wanted to but because Angel had cut the line.
“Perfecto! Now I need a new whore for this stupid fucking film,” he grumbled, slumping into the chair. Velvette gave you a look, “see I have my souls under control...,” she whispered, judging her friend. You actually felt bad for him, of course he wasn’t a good person but being blown off sucked. “I’m sure you will find someone,” you tried giving him hope, smiling at him.
He lifted his head, regaining his smirk. “Well amorcita, the offer still stands,” “no, Valentino I’m not talking about me,” you brushed him off again intending to focus on Velvette cutting fabric off your body.
“But imagine the money you could make! They would love you, ignore that cooking show. This will be your breakthrough,” he sugar-coated his work, however you knew how backhanded it could be – also how did he know about that cooking show thing?
“That’s really nice, but I’m quite happy here,” you stayed loyal to Vel, keeping your tone in a light drawl. Suddenly the moth was on his knees, “he doesn’t usually beg unless it’s Vox,” Velvette stated, a little surprised. She looked up at you on the pedestal, realising you were about to give in, “darling you’re too compassionate, how did you end up in hell?”
“What was your plan for Angel?” you sighed, ignoring Velvette as you saw Valentinos eyes light up with excitement.
“Imagine this, you amorcita in sexy lingerie sitting in your house and your stepdad comes in. He’s so mad at you for not doing your homework, he decided to punish you and it starts with blow job, then pussy action before the big finish with his cum leaking out your cunt.”
You were stunned in silence at his words, was he the one who thought of all those pornos? In this moment you questioned your mental health for even considering this.
“It would only be one time! Big cash and everybody wants more but they don’t get it,” he added, coming closer to you. Hesitantly you glanced at your boss, “I’ve got other shit to do, I just like looking at you so...if you want,” she trailed off.
Thinking for another second you agreed, which made him jump in happiness. Something you didn’t expect from an overlord like him. He swept you into his arms and dragged you towards his studio, chatting the whole way down how important this would be for your carrier and how so many sinners wished to be in your place instead.
Valentino guides you into a dressing room – again – where your new clothes would be. A simple piece of lingerie, blood red with fluff around its seam. The straps of the bra covering in red hearts along with your string as you noticed.
Quickly speeding your pants and top, you slipped into the set while it did feel empowering you didn’t know what drove you here. Was it compassion or the thought of Val watching you?
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Valentino walked in, two hands on his hips, one scrolling through phone, “ready amorcita?” his eyes fell on you. Suddenly everything else became unimportant, you looked breath-taking...did he really want to share you with hell? No.
“Val?” you asked in confusion as you the expression on his face, “amorcita I don’t think I can share you,” he growled, it was the only warning you head before he was walking towards you. In response you stepped backwards, body falling against the couch, “what is it with you Vees and dressing rooms?”
His hands sneaked underneath your bra, massaging your breast, but you sat up and stopped his hands. Confusion was written all over Val's features, wondering if he you were rejecting him however your excited smile told him otherwise.
You slide towards him, pushing him back a little so you could stand up and guide him to replace you on the couch, for once you had enough of being under the Vee's, Valentino sat down, hand still resting in your neck as you got on your knees in front of him.
Oh, now he knew where this was going. His cock strained against his dress pants, you let go of his hand and moved it to stay on his side. “Mhm didn't think you'd be this eager amorcita,” he purred.
You trailed your fingers up to his belt which you unbuckled easily, fingertips stroking his covered cock. Valentino hissed at feeling, you barley gave him any fraction, and he was already this responsive. “I'm done with you Vee's pushing me down, I'm gonna flip the script,” you decided with an innocent smile.
Voice just above a whisper had his member twitching. It should be a crime how sexy you looked, a hoarse groan leaving his lips, “buena chica, suck,” praise danced at the edge of his voice, covered by the command.
Your tongue darted out lick the pre-cum from his mushroom formed tip, the moth drove his golden claws through your hair trying to suppress the urge to shove his cock down your throat. A smile spread across your face at his reaction, you let him take over the reign soon but not yet. Licking a long stripe along his length, you could taste the light saltiness which had you thriving.
The hand in your hair didn’t hinder you in teasing Valentino, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Gently stroking up and down, a way to feel every popping vein. One thick vein popped out, practically asking you to lick it.
Valentino was relishing in your attention, as he was by far the craziest Vee when it came to sex, it didn’t surprise. “Fuck,” he groaned as he felt your tongue on the sensitive vein, hand gripping your roots.
At first, you gave him a few kitten licks before taking him completely down your throat – or trying to take him. His cock wasn’t particularly long but thick, it was difficult fitting all of it inside your mouth. You couldn’t take him any further down, a gagging noise erupting from your throat in protest.
The feeling of his tip hitting your maw had him moaning and his sounds encouraging you to try and take more of him. Never in your afterlife did something turn you on as much as his noises he made while you gave him pleasure.
It was over for Val. He took control over you. His hand spreading over your scalp, gently massaging it before yanking your head back and taking you by surprise in the process. You noticed him trying to keep his second pair of hands clutched into the fabric of the couch.
“¡Es suficiente amorcita! It’s time I take control,” the overlords voice was hoarse, you wouldn’t do anything to disobey him. First, he guided his guided you back up to look into your eyes, they were filled with hunger and the need to be controlled.
This was everything you got from Valentino before he had your head shoved down on his cock again. All the way down which tears to spring from your eyes, “fuck, show me those pretty tears,” he let his head fall back in pleasure.
He didn’t let you lift your head, instead he let you choke on his cock. A loud gagging sound ringing through the walls as he rolled his hips up. The vibrations of your cries sending him closer to his high, “choke on my cock, amorcita,” he purred as he kept his cock pressed against your throat. God, he wished he could stay in the warmth of your mouth forever, buried deep inside.
He was near his orgasm, gently he thrusts your head up and down his hardened length. “You’re such a belleza when you suck my cock,” he praised you in a soft tone. Soon his pace picked up and drool escaped your mouth as you couldn’t control it anymore.
“Fucking hell, I’m coming,” Val grunted moving his hips to meet his thrusts. You felt his cock twitch against your tongue, his release would drop over the edge every second. While he desperately fucked your throat you sucked on the mushroom formed head. Valentino came, all over your tongue. Gasping and groaning as he watched you swallow all of him.
You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you, his sounds just felt different and had you clenching your thighs pathetically.
“Take it, take all of it amorcita,” his claws came up to rest against your cheek as he slowly lifted your head from his cock. “Swallow,” was all he said, looking deep into your eyes and without hesitation swallowed the slightly salty yet sweet semen of the last Vees.
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To Alastor, you are pure entertainment. Your devotion amuses him, but it also intrigues him.
You are his "Eternal Listener," the only one permanently tuned to his frequency. You are not a servant; you are part of the animated props in his grand theater of horror.
He places you in dangerous or absurd situations to see how you react, as if you were a supporting character in his favorite plot. A "Great performance, darling!" after you miraculously survive a fight is his highest compliment. You are living entertainment.
He watches you crawl to him, with that bright, desperate look for his attention. "Oh, my little creature? Being so… clingy again?"
Alastor finds it deliciously ironic that a soul would cling to him willingly. He turns your devotion into a private joke that only he understands. He sends you on impossible missions with a "Let's see how you do!" and then watches with static laughter as you desperately struggle to please him. Your suffering and dedication are the spice of his eternal boredom.
He never truly pushes you away. He allows you to follow him, sit next to his armchair, or lie at his feet while he plays his music. You are his oddity, a curious specimen he decided to keep.
It's not jealousy, it's a matter of ownership… and after a long time, he grows fond of you.
Listen… He highly values true feelings, and if you truly love him and care for him, he'll put you on a pedestal, like Niffty.
If you sacrifice your life for him, he'll do the same… halfway. You are definitely his favorite; he always emphasizes that.
When you found out about Rosie, you know the deal. You didn't know whether to kill her or treat her with respect. "I mean… do I have to kill her?" "No, Y/N!"
In his fight with Adam, you were supporting him but couldn't protect him. At his radio station, you healed him and blamed yourself for it.
Imagine: Alastor lying on the floor while you clean his wound. "I-I'm so sorry, I should have taken that hit." "Ha, no, no, look at me, don't cry for me." "But, my lord?" "No, give me that beautiful smile, please. It always makes me feel better." You look at him but don't smile, and he kisses your temple. "It's okay, as long as… you're here."
You talk a lot with Husk and Niffty; you're not jealous of them. However, he doesn't know if he likes or dislikes the fact that you put yourself in danger for him; he wants you safe and sound.
When the Vees kidnapped him, you ran into his arms and didn't want to let go. "Y/N is okay, he's okay. Give me that lovely smile, darling." You almost killed Vox after that.
If you defend him or put yourself in danger for him, his smile widens.
"Such… touching loyalty."
(Although secretly, he feels a pang of infernal pride.)
Vox
At first, he considered you just another toy. But then, your obsession began to fascinate him.
He loves you; you're definitely what he was looking for: a loyal follower who doesn't question him and doesn't hesitate to do anything for him. He'll constantly use you to beat Alastor or show off to the other Vees. "Look, Velvette! My pet would do ANYTHING for me. What about yours?" He'll film you taking risks and broadcast it on his channels.
Vox sees your devotion as a marketing tool. You want to risk your life for him? Great, but make sure it's recorded and in high definition. He'll send you on drone missions that broadcast your exploits live. "Make sure the angle is good and tag me!" he tells you before every dangerous mission.
Now you're his darling, always by his side like his loyal pet.
You're his living trophy. His way of "rewarding" you is to give you limited access to his technological world: better monitors, a corner of his studio, mentions in his streams. If you accomplish a particularly risky feat, he'll give you a quick tap on the head, feeling like the best master ever.
You crawl up to his screens, begging him to look at you, and he enjoys making you wait. "So my pet can't go a second without seeing me, huh? How adorable."
He likes having you close during his streams, curled up next to his cables or watching him from the floor.
"So, how's my favorite personal assistant doing?" He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. "Oh, hi boss. I hope you slept well."
You're close to him; he likes you as…as something. He doesn't know what he feels, but you're important to him now. And you've had sex more than once.
Vox becomes competitive and jealous of your affection. He doesn't just show you off to others; he needs the world to know that you're his, completely.
Anyone who tries to touch you or speak rudely to you will be… personally disappeared.
He will show you intense, possessive affection in public. He'll grab you tightly around the waist while introducing you or give you a "kiss" on the head that feels more like a show of dominance for the cameras. In private, he'll reward you with nights in his penthouse or let you spend time in his tech-filled "fun box," feeling like he's given you the world.
Sometimes he's scared of your face when someone talks trash about Vox. "Doll, it's okay, let them talk—" "No, my lord, no one will tell lies about you…only over my dead body."
If you put yourself in danger for him, he'll rescue you immediately. Not out of affection, but because he can't afford to lose his proof of superiority on social media. A loyal, obsessive pet has more media value than a dead one.
Valentino
He thought you were just another bootlicker.
Valentino is used to people groveling before him, but your platonic obsession, combined with your willingness to suffer, is incredibly seductive to him.
He treats you like an accessory, but one he doesn't intend to share.
His "affection" is a mixture of toxic attention and calculated abandonment.
He gives you crumbs of his time, whispers empty promises, and then ignores you for days, knowing that anxiety will consume you. You're a character in the movie of his life, and he enjoys writing your suffering. A "Well done, my dear" said with a caress under the chin might be followed by a brutal slap if he interprets your gaze as not submissive enough.
He always throws you onto the bed with his chain and makes you film countless videos, but something strange was going on… you never stayed; in fact, you were willing to do more… What a desperate whore.
He will demand increasingly humiliating and risky acts of devotion from you, but he will frame it as if it were for "the movie" or "the perfect photo." He will make others jealous of the attention he lavishes on you.
You are his property, in the most literal and terrifying way. Your contract is probably the most restrictive of all. Your obsession amuses him, but it also infuriates him; the idea that someone else might set their eyes on you sends him into fits of violent jealousy.
However, he will not defend you; he will punish you for being "tempting," for making him "waste his time" with his insecurities.
You will receive his most direct (but superficial) attention. He will allow you to sit on his lap, brush your hair, or let you wear one of his silk robes. But you must understand that this "intimacy" is only granted when you have done something that benefits him.
I did notice that you always got possessive with him when another girl approached him. "Aw, baby, don't be mad, Daddy's all yours."
After a long time, he realized that you really wanted him and that you'd become obsessed with him.
"You really love me?… How do you care about me?" You nod euphorically. Val takes a long drag and blows the smoke at you, creating one of his chains. He pulls you close and whispers, "You're so desperate."
He loves watching you crawl towards him, seeking his cologne, his voice, his approval. "Look who's crawling… my adorable little mess."
Valentino's obsession with your devotion becomes a predatory and narcissistic attraction. You're the only person in Hell who's truly obsessed with him, not just with what he can offer.
Now he's gentler with you, letting you lie on his lap while he smokes, absentmindedly stroking you, enjoying how calm you become under his attention.
He'll punish you if you hurt yourself in a way that ruins your appearance. You're an extension of his image, and if you dare to have a wound that makeup can't cover, he'll be furious at your "lack of professionalism."
Velvette
So you're obsessed with her, huh?
Velvet finds your obsession a bit cringeworthy and exhausting, but she recognizes your usefulness as a lackey.
She tests you, exploiting you to the fullest because at first she's not really interested in another crazy fan. After all, she has plenty of them who only seek her out for ridiculous crap.
She'll use you as her personal high-risk assistant. Need her purse off a dangerous ledge? Need you to serve her drink in the middle of a Sinners battlefield? There you are. She doesn't care if you fall, as long as the purse or drink doesn't get damaged.
You don't wait for her to ask you for something. If she has a rival, you're already creating the most toxic memes to bring them down. If she mentions liking something, you've already researched how to get it and planned a spectacular unboxing for her. Your value lies in your creative initiative and your willingness to be cruel online.
Her "affection" is measured in mentions, tags, and shares. A gift from you isn't valuable in itself, but rather for how photogenic it is and the engagement it generates. A gesture of devotion from you is met with a "That's it! The audio is perfect for a reel!" rather than a "thank you." You're a resource for her public narrative of power.
She makes you search for the same things thirty times, carry heavy things: "Hey, I need those boxes in my room, now!" "Yes, yes, boss, right now."
She loves how you go out of your way to please her: putting on makeup, posing, smiling even if you're shaking. "Awww, look at you! So dedicated to your favorite Overlord~"
Until, when she was walking towards the tower, one of her haters was silently about to attack her, and you lunged straight at the hater: "What the hell…?"
After that, she scolded you for being such an idiot, according to her, but then she tended to your wounds.
Imagine: Your boss is scolding you for being so "reckless" while searching for a first-aid kit and leaving you on the couch. You can't stop staring at her with those lovesick, silly eyes.
She exposed that hater to the fullest.
She calls you "my sweet bug" and lets you sleep among her fabrics when she's in a good mood.
If anyone criticizes you, Velvette publicly destroys them in seconds. Nobody messes with her pet.
She constantly records you on her infernal social media. You're her "influencer pet," even though all you want is her approval.
Velvette is surrounded by people. You're not next to her chatting; you're filming her from the best angle, lighting her with your phone so she looks flawless.
Suddenly, a drunken demon approaches her roughly. Before security can react, you've already stepped in front of her with a sweet smile but killer eyes, while your other arm keeps recording vertically. "Honey, you're ruining the shot," you tell the intruder, before he disappears into the crowd. Velvette doesn't even blink; he just adjusts his pose for the camera.
Rosie
Rosie loves devotion. She sees you as a cute little puppy that needs to be pampered and fed. Your obsession is charming.
She appreciates your efforts to win her affection and will "reward" you in kind. If you take a chance on her, she'll seat you at her drawing-room table and serve you the best pieces of her dinner (which you probably won't want to know where they came from).
Reinforce your obsession with kind words. She's a master manipulator. She knows that a compliment from her is worth more than an army. Phrases like "Only you truly understand the importance of keeping up appearances," or "You're my most trusted pair of hands," are the fuel that feeds your fire.
She calls you her "sweet little mouse" and allows you to rest near her armchair.
She gives you a homey warmth. She allows you to cuddle up to her and will let you attend her teas with Alastor or her social gatherings, treating you like a sort of strange niece or nephew. This is the Overlord most likely to give you a genuine pat on the shoulder and whisper, "You're such a sweet little thing."
He doesn't condone your destructive impulses, but he understands them. "My dear, affection isn't earned with wounds. But I appreciate your devotion."
You arrive at his emporium with your arm bandaged and hand him an elegantly wrapped box. "A little gift for trying to spoil your tulips, Mistress Rosie." She opens the box and finds the culprit's pocket watch inside. She smiles. "What a thoughtful young man. Now, sit down, my dear. I've made your favorite cup."
If you put yourself in danger, he'll worry in a strange and twisted way. "Oh, darling, no! Don't ruin such a fine cut of meat with an ugly bruise! Come here, Rosie will patch you up and give you a piece of that silly Sinner who caused you trouble."
He feeds you, he takes care of you, he teaches you manners. You are, secretly, her experiment to test whether affection can survive in Hell.
You don't bring her flowers. You bring her things you think she'll appreciate: a tiny porcelain vase stolen from the ruins of a burned-down palace, the personal journal of a demon who plotted to betray her, or a rare kind of tea you found in an abandoned shop. Each gift is an offering, proof that you think of her constantly.
When she strokes your hair, she murmurs, “So obsessed, so lost… yet still capable of love. What a tragic miracle.”
When a group of intruders threatens Cannibal Town, you're first in line, fighting with desperate ferocity. From her balcony, Rosie watches, a cup of tea in hand, muttering to herself, “Look at him. He's so… devoted. He really breeds the best, doesn't he?”
Missi Zilla (Zeezi)
Missi reacts with a mixture of surprise and amusement to your obsession.
Missi loves it! It's just another thing to consume or manipulate. You're her loyal little servant.
Her affection is real, but in the same way someone loves their cat. She'll pat you on the head (careful not to hurt you with her claws), call you condescending but affectionate nicknames like "My Little Soul" or "My Personal Toy," and sometimes buy you shiny or unnecessary things just to see your ecstatic reaction.
Your pathetic obsession strikes her as adorable and often hilarious. She loves telling you about her exaggerated problems just to see you rage in her defense. "See? Even my pet understands how annoying Vox is. You're so loyal…" she says, chuckling as she watches you whirl around in indignation.
She takes advantage of your devotion. She's pragmatic. Why run her own errands when you're right there, desperate to help? You're her personal messenger, the one who gets her favorite drink from the farthest bar, the one who intimidates her lesser debtors (your obsession with defending her gives you unusual courage), and her biggest fan at her impromptu performances.
You don't see her acts of condescension for what they are. To you, that pat on the head is a divine blessing.
She'll use you as a shield, bait, or food taster quite regularly.
She treats you like a curious creature who's decided to worship her; sometimes she throws you challenges because she's entertained by watching you fight for her attention.
You know EVERYTHING about her. You know her favorite song, the type of energy she most likes to consume, the exact rhythm at which she likes her scaly back massaged, and which other Overlords she despises. You're a living archive of Zeezi.
Even though you're her pet, she's your goddess. If another Overlord, or even one of her servants, pays you too much attention, Zeezi will step in with a menacing smile and a "Hey, hey, that's mine. Find your own toy." Seeing you interact with others irritates her, not out of romantic jealousy, but because it shatters the fantasy that you live only for her.
Zeezi is in the center of the dance floor. You're not dancing; you're on the edge, watching. You reach for her drink the exact moment she extends her hand without even looking. A demon gets too close to her, and you silently step in with a look that promises violence. Zeezi sees you out of the corner of her eye and smiles, flattered.
Carmilla Carmine
At first, she distrusted you, simply thinking you were trying to curry favor and use her. Carmilla is protective and pragmatic. Your risky behavior strikes her as a sign of instability.
She'll keep you at arm's length. She'll only use you for high-risk assignments that don't require emotional connection or critical skills. If you grovel, she'll simply sigh and ask, "Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"
You're like a devoted puppy, following her even into war zones. "You again, you little rascal? If you die, I'm not bringing you back to life."
Her affection is shown through professional trust. There are no pats on the back or empty praise. Instead, there's the quiet acknowledgment of assigning you a critical task, or the rare "Well done" after a particularly dangerous mission. To you, those two words are worth more than anyone else's speech.
You learn to anticipate her needs. You don't wait for orders to neutralize a threat. If you sense danger to her, you act. Your value lies not in following orders, but in fulfilling her will before it's even spoken.
But when you rushed to save her daughters without hesitation, she knew that perhaps what you felt was genuine.
She can't stop your suicidal thoughts, so she trains you well, for everyone's sake, haha.
The pinnacle of your existence wouldn't be a hug or a kind word. It would be if, in the midst of battle, she trusted you to watch her back. Or if, in a rare moment of vulnerability, she assigned you the unspoken but sacred mission of "watching over my daughters if I'm not there." That would mean you're more than a servant; you're part of her strength.
Her word is law. Her philosophy of "fighting for love" (to protect) becomes your personal gospel. You fight for your love for her, which manifests itself in protecting everything that is hers: her business, her territory, and, above all, her daughters.
Her greatest sign of affection is teaching you how to defend yourself better. If you insist on putting yourself in danger, she'll show you the proper falling technique or give you an upgraded weapon. She doesn't want your devotion; she wants your survival because waste irritates her.
Her daughters adore you, but they always tease you, "Oh come on, you're in love with Mother, aren't you?" "By Lucifer, girls, stop it, Carmilla might hear."
If you're seriously injured, she'll provide you with the best medical care on the condition that you stop being so foolish. She doesn't want her investment ruined by a "favorite" obsession. Her primary concern is that a weak Sinner around her might pose a risk to her daughters.
Carmilla is in a tense meeting with another Overlord. You're not in the room; you're on the rooftop vigil, with an angelic steel sniper rifle pointed at the guest's head through the window. She knows this, and that's why she can negotiate so calmly. Your devotion is her silent deterrent.
Zestial Morde
Zestial finds it confusing and a little… modern. In his time, loyalty was bought, not offered so recklessly.
It's rare for one of his pets to be so close to him; he always forgets about them. But when you decided to stay close to him like a good girl, he knew you wanted something.
"You don't have to be near me all the time, Little Firefly." "No, Master, I always want to be with you. It's a pleasure." …"Master"—that word had echoed in Zestial's mind as he sipped his tea.
He doesn't flatter or encourage you the way Rosie or Zeezi would. Instead, he observes. Your obsession is a social experiment to him.
He studies you with the same patience he would an ancient text, analyzing the patterns of your loyalty, the limits of your recklessness, and the depth of your adoration. A whisper of "Interesting…" from him is the highest praise you can receive. The former Overlord, despite his initial disinterest, begins to see your devotion as a fascinating connection to the past and a reminder of old-fashioned loyalty.
He sees you as the last vestige of an era. He doesn't possess you physically, but claims you as his vassal of honor, his one true soul he doesn't need to doubt.
He doesn't need to be jealous; his mere presence makes others retreat. You are his possession, like his cloak or his hat. Any being foolish enough to try to harm you or recruit you simply… vanishes.
Zestial never mentions these incidents, but you know it's his doing. It's his way of saying, "No one touches what belongs to me," without uttering a single word.
He lets you sit on his lap; you snuggle up to him like a kitten with its wicked master.
You are very jealous and toxic. You don't like anyone getting near him. You stand between the person and your master. "Stay away from him if you don't want to die." "Firefly, it's fine, he's no danger at all."
Your "random gifts" are not received with joy, but with critical evaluation. You bring him the soul of an enemy, a lost relic, or valuable information. He takes them with his long fingers, examines them in the dim light of his lair, and, if they please him, nods almost imperceptibly. An unworthy gift is simply ignored, which for you is the most devastating punishment.
He will never ask you to risk yourself for him. In fact, he rarely asks anything of you. The beauty of your devotion, in his mind, lies in the fact that all your reckless acts must be your own initiative. If you rush to protect him from a threat, he will simply watch, with his four arms crossed, to see if his "investment" (you) is strong enough to survive. If you succeed, you will have proven your worth.
At first, Vox masks his worrisome through a sharp grin. Nice tuxedo, smooth clean shoes, nothing different about em. You might just have a dead phone, visiting family - friends, hell maybe he said the wrong thing and you needed a break. Who is he to go around and control you and where you go? As he told Valentino, how would the Vees look if they were following whores around hell? Oh who is he fooling. You’re not any whore. You’re his. And every second he spends meticulously watching the cameras around pentagon city that doesn’t find you, is an issue.
Valentino texts occasionally, at least that’s what he’s been telling the Vees, but the 200+ unread messages he sent shows otherwise. He’s furious, upset more than anything else. He makes no excuses for you, taking his anger and frustration out on those around him. When he gets his hands on you he swears you’ll be punished for this, or anyone else involved in the matter! If you were going to disappear, at least a conversation, fuck- even a message would’ve been nice! But maybe you knew, he wouldn’t have gave you an option to leave them in the first place.
Velvette plays it off way better than the other two. As the level headed one of the group, she taps away, acting indifferent in her chair. Though keeping her pampered hands clutched onto her phone just tight enough; actively checking her notifications. Just incase it’s your photo that finally blesses her screen. Though it doesn’t take long before her legs start bouncing, her nails begin chipping, and her styled hair starts frizzing from the thought, you just might be gone forever.
