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“Can I please keep her?”
“What do you even want with her? She got no tits.”
“Exactly! I could start a whole new trend!”
Fragments of this conversation had been what Vaggie heard as if through a fog and a high pitch in her ears. She opened her eyes - oh, shit, eye - and immediately squeezed it shut again. Too bright. Her muscles felt like lead and the tingling sensation in her back screamed in the language only phantom pain could speak. Dying would have been preferable to this.
But her kind was cursed to be immortal - hurt they could take, but never have the sweet freedom of the end.
“Okay, whatever, Val. Huh. She's awake.”
She could hear one of the voices—clean, crisp, impatient—clearer now and heard the click clack of heels on the floor, approaching her.
“But she's playing dead.”
Evident amusement in the voice. Something cold and metallic brushed by her face, from her forehead over her cheek with the intention of trailing to her chin.
“Come on now, little possum, wake up and tell me exactly who the fuck you are.”
Vaggie was fast as lightning; despite the heaviness of her bones, her arm shot out and grabbed the wrist belonging to the hand tightly, keeping it at bay. Slowly she opened her eyes again and was met with a screen just mere inches from her face. Static tickled her and she stared into a pulsating and extremely irritating circle. With a groan she flung the wrist away. A yelp, a crash, a vicious tirade of swear words.
Someone laughed.
“What the actual fuck?” That was the first voice.
“That's what you get for being a fuckin’ creep, Vee.” This was a new voice, with a slightly different intonation on some words. It matched with the laugh.
‘Vee’?
Holding her head in her hands, Vaggie raised herself up and groaned again. It was all coming back to her — the cornered terrified child that moved something in her, the cut across her face, Lute’s words, her wings—
She buried her face and pressed her lips together. She couldn’t be showing weakness to these demons, because what else could they be? There was little place in Hell for good Samaritans.
“You— you fucking—!” The voice belonging to Vee crackled like an electric current.
“Don't get your knickers in a twist, love.” The new voice, the one matching with the laugh, spoke. “Give her some space, you knobhead, then maybe she won't flick you away like a bug!”
Someone grabbed her shoulders. Their hands were warm but there was something off about the skin—if that was skin at all.
“Oi! No need to act up, it's fine, you're safe.” A light, awkward, laugh. “You're an unlucky bitch though, you know that? Ending up in Hell just during an ongoing extermination, worst start imaginable.”
The face Vaggie looked at was… beautiful, the first word that came to mind. There was a bottomless confidence in vibrant eyes of red and silver that harmonized perfectly with her features. It was a sort of face that stuck. Maybe a little too beautiful, Vaggie realized then. There was something artificial about her, as if someone had designed her to be as appealing and good-looking as possible.
Or if they knew what Vaggie found appealing. She stiffened.
“There we go, much better.” The demon smiled. Vaggie tried to recall just why there was something so familiar about her, but the pounding of her head and the blossoming pain of where her eye were too overwhelming for her to form a coherent thought at the same speed as usual. She was a strategist, ‘Adam’s top girl’, things like this weren’t supposed to happen to her.
She was a ruthless killer who had slaughtered thousands without losing a minute of sleep, celebrating with her comrades, basking in the graces of Adam while knowing exactly that one earned to be in her place more than anything, seeking her well-earned diversions in the arms of —
Whether it was the physical state she was in or the pain the mere memory of her, who she had failed to protect, who despite everything was the catalyst for everything that had happened. Torn between nausea and a burning behind her eyes (could she even still shed a tear where her eye was missing?"), Vaggie wrapped her arms around the demoness before her. It was an impulse, the desire to cling onto someone right now, lest the world beneath her feet and around her began to spin at such a speed that it would dissolve, crumbling into debris all around her that crashed onto her with the unbearable weight of meaninglessness.
It didn’t matter that this strange beautiful creature was a soul tainted by wickedness who upon death was judged as unworthy of heaven. She was here, and promised sure footing.
In her embrace, the demon was as stiff as a statue. “Err… alright”, she muttered and patted Vaggie’s back awkwardly. She let her go, suddenly embarrassed by her complete lack of tact and breaking of resolve. The gals would not like that. Adam would not like that.
Oh. Right. That matter was solved for good.
The demoness spoke first: “I’ll allow it this once, even if you’re a nobody, because you might launch me across the room otherwise.”
“What? No! I- I am sorry. I’m just so confused.” Vaggie ran a hand through her hair. The pain in her eye was dulling and had gone from a piercing pain to a heavy pulse that drummed through her head with each heartbeat.
“No shit, love, you just died.”
Before Vaggie could spout “No, I didn’t! I can’t fucking die!”, she held her tongue. How no one had been able to recognize her as an angel was beyond her, but the moment anyone would… there were worse things than death, and sinners were nothing if not inventive in their cruelty.
“Yes. Yes, I did. I was in a car, and driving, and there was a crash, and-” The lie came easy to her, despite everything. Sure, humans died in car accidents all the time, especially the young ones. It was such an unspectacular way to meet their end that surely no one would question it.
“Urgh, most fucks with a license should be prohibited from sitting behind a wheel.” The demon sneered. “Just get a fucking driver.”
“I am not sure if I still want her.” Right, there were two other people in this room as well. Vaggie looked across the room and saw two demons; one very lanky, wrapped in red velvet and a slightly buggish demeanor, the other one shorter, in a suit, and with a television screen for a head.
She knew these two. Somewhere in the back of her mind, two names floated in murky waters. Vaggie squinted as if that would help her remember them faster.
The TV man looked somewhat crumpled brushing himself off while standing in front of a TV man-shaped hole in a garishly pink wall, which told Vaggie that he was the one she had chucked across the room effortlessly. He was brushing dust of him with such a furious and undignified expression that Vaggie instinctively tensed up, ready to strike should he make the wrong move. The insect was fussing over him with one pair of hands absentmindedly while turned to the demoness.
“Finders keepers, shut up”, The demon said sharply, then her tone became friendly and jovial again as she took Vaggie’s hand.
“So, what's your name, darlin’? You're new here and already pack quite the punch, I admire that. It reminds me of me.”
For a moment Vaggie considered. Could it be that these people would recognize her by her name if not by the visuals? It was common for her sisters-in-arms to call out to each other, not caring who heard them - it wasn’t as if anyone who got that close to an exorcist lived to tell the tale.
She had always tried to be careful, just in case. Ultimately, this professional streak was what made her and not someone else, like Lute, Adam’s second-in-command. She had done what needed to be and didn’t cross any unnecessary lines for the joy of it.
“Who gives a fuck?” The TV man said and slapped the second set of hands away that was running a finger over a crack in his screen.
“I’m Vaggie.”
“Like ‘vagina’?”
Both insect and humanoid television burst into cacaphonic laughter as if this was the best joke they had ever heard.
“Oh, can you can it?” The doll snapped. To Vaggie’s surprise, a phone appeared in her hand and with astonishing speed, she began typing something. Two X’s appeared over their mouths and immediately silenced them.
“No, but seriously: what is your name? This better be a joke.”
Vaggie frowned. “I am being serious.”
“As cancer, I can see that. For fuck’s sake.” She rubbed her temple, smiled, then cackled.
“Anyway: I am Velvette,” Velvette said and pointed at herself with a flourish and a wide grin, then made a dismissive wave towards her companions, “and these two walking lawsuits are Valentino and Vox.”
Oh. Right.
Only because of her general exhaustion, Vaggie didn’t slap herself. Voxtek products and Valentino - more than she would have liked to see of him - were plastered on billboards all over Pentagram City and an all-too familiar sight during the Exterminations. She had intel on these two, in case they ever became too great a danger that it would threaten Heaven, even if after Lilith and the beginning of the extermination, none could ever dare. Nevertheless, they were powerful demons who controlled sectors that catered to the average sinner’s vices, but so far they had always succeeded in hiding away.
Hell, she knew who Velvette was as well, although as far as she knew, she was a relatively new overlord with not too much to her name - but if she was on good terms with two of Hell’s master puppeteers, it either spoke of bad character or a keen sense of business, probably both.
“And your first shitty day in Hell might just be your luckiest, love.”
And she had been right about that when she spoke the words and stroked Vaggie’s cheek with condescending affection. Vaggie surpressed a shiver at the touch as turmoil raged within her: that she had fallen — literally, now that she was a fallen angel — within the clutches of Hell’s notorious overlords, but she wasn’t being greeted with complete hostility, at least from Velvette.
They woke up at the same time, and being the consumate professionals they prided themselves to be, wasted no time to get ready for the morning. Vel sipped on her coffee as she scrolled through her phone and complained about the e-mails she got, which cunt she had to deal with today, and how lacking in talent her models were.
“All they have to stand around, babe, and it’s pretty hard to fail at that.”
“And yet they do!” Velvette sighed and tapped aggressively on her phone. “If it weren’t for Vox, you’d be my only model.”
They had this discussion multiple times already and knew it would never go anywhere: if there was only one face to Velvette’s brand, it would be even harder to lure in sinners that were willing to sign a contract to sell their souls. Vox claimed that he ‘knew how the whole thing worked much better than Velvette’, which both of them found extremely patronizing but accepted.
Valentino agreed with them, but was unwilling to act against Vox as well. The deep hatred Vox held for Valentino’s “favourite cum-dump”, as he unceremoniously dubbed Angel Dust, persisted. After their initial tensions though, he had taken to a bizarre liking to Vaggie — probably because she wasn’t a threat to him.
“I’d love to — if only because I’d get to be undressed by you at all opportunities.”
Velvette’s head twisted over her shoulders to look right at her. “Oh, is that so, darling?” She grinned. “I told you to not get me all hot and bothered before noon. Now that’s all I’ll be able to think about while dressing these subpar mannequins up.”
Vaggie stopped polishing her dagger and approached her. Putting her hands on her shoulders to massage her while looking at Velvette, she leaned over and said: “It’s only my secondary mission to get you hot and bothered. Besides, as your own boss, you can just give yourself vacaction.”
“You’re such a bad influence.”
Vaggie reached out to get a hold of Vel’s hands, and grabbed her wrists. “And you are a workaholic.” She enjoyed the darkening of Vel’s face and how her eyes and pupils went wide. A thin trail of blood red drool dripped from the corner of Velvette’s lips.
For someone who fostered the careful image of, in her own words, a “stone-cold killer bitch”, Velvette was quite easily putty in her hand. So much of her bravado was just for show as if daring for someone to push back against her.
“You are going to grind yourself into powder if you don’t relax for a bit. Everyone is already very impressed by you.”
Being the youngest overlord of the lot gave Velvette something to compensate for — be tougher, be meaner, be better than the rest and they won’t doubt you for a single second. They didn’t talk about the toll this sort of pressure took because Velvette thought therapy was for pussies, but it was crystal clear to Vaggie. In some ways, Velvette reminded her of herself before she met her, with only her mission and her purpose on her mind, to impress her superiors, damn everything else.
“I can think of something much better to grind myself against.” Velvette’s body followed her head suit and wrapped her arms around Vaggie’s neck. “On your delicious thighs, or your wet cunt—”
Vaggie silenced her with a kiss and Velvette leaned into her, docile like a lamb and so unlike the persona she presented outside of her shared apartment.
Being made of plastic meant that Vel wasn’t as sensitive to touch as Vaggie — she liked it rough, to cross the threshold and experience pain until she begged for mercy, and endlessly glad that she was allowed to feel something.
Vaggie was all too glad to deliver on that front. To give pain and receive pleasure was an… interesting idea, at first, and gradually Vaggie had come to like it, even if she occasionally lay awake at night and wondered if her enjoyment of Velvette’s masochistic tendencies meant that she had been close to enjoying the killing of sinners as well… it was a box Vaggie didn’t want to open. Velvette was the antidote to that, to an question that she dreaded to get an answer for.
Nimble fingers slid over her shoulders, chest, stomach: one hand slid under her blouse and up her chest, the other wandered beneath her skirt.
“You always look so sexy in that uniform but I like you better without it.”
Vaggie hummed and dug her fingers into the back of Velvette’s neck. The reaction was a gasp that became a moan half along the way.
“And I feel so sexy in it as well, I’d rather fuck you with it on.”
Velvette tilted her head back, more red dripped from her mouth.
“I know how badly you want to make a mess all over it”, Vaggie purred and let go of Velvette’s neck to run her fingernail over her naked back. Underneath her, Velvette squirmed under the pressure of her touch.
The uniform was a design from Velvette, naturally. Black with purple and pink accents, a smart jacket and a flared skirt that allowed for some flexibility. Even the eyepatch she wore was exclusively made for her — with her own symbol, two sleek silver daggers with pink handles that formed a ‘V’. Vaggie might not be an overlord with her own powers, unless one counted being a nigh-indestructible killer a power, but if there had ever been an honorary member of the Vees, then it was her.
“Stop seducing me. Bad assassin.”
Vaggie dug her nails into her back and raked them over the plastic.
“Don’t let yourself be seduced.” Then she moaned when a finger dipped past her thong and into her already wet pussy.
“You horny bitch. Just— fuck it— fuck that meeting.”
“So unprofessional.”
Velvette pulled her down for another kiss, this time deeper and more aggressive. When Vaggie pulled away, she was light-headed and when she looked at Velvette, it was as if her face was from a wonderful dream.
“Fuck me already, babe.”
Vaggie scooped her up and after a few steps she was sitting on Velvette’s desk and had an overlord straddling one of her thighs. It only took a moment for Vel to get rid of her clothes, courtesy of her powers, and she was grinding against Vaggie’s thigh with urgent need. She all but tore the buttons of her blouse off to expose Vaggie’s tits and began to fondle them. Vaggie arched her back when a thumb brushed over her stiff nipple, and claimed her lover’s hot and pliant mouth once more.
Velvette moaned into her mouth as she moved up and down her thigh, leaving a trail of wetness behind. Just seeing her frantically chasing her pleasure was a turn-on for Vaggie, even if she regretted not taking things to the bedroom. At the end of the day, nothing could beat a strap with a clit stimulator and fucking Velvette into the mattress until she was sobbing from her fifteenth orgasm and saying “Babe, please, you’ll kill me for real” to then be sweet as a kitten to her for the following days; but they did indeed still cling to some professionalism.
With a groan, Velvette came. Her body trembled while she rode out her pleasure and breathed heavily against Vaggie’s lips.
“Babe, let’s—” but instead of getting off her and fixing herself, Velvette slid down from her thigh and dropped down on her knees. With awe Vaggie allowed her to part her thighs, literally snap off her underwear and start eating her out. She gasped as Velvette’s tongue ran over her clit and threw back her head. Vel was being sloppy, obviously too enthralled in her own passion, but she was eager to please. She inserted a finger and thrusted into her cunt while licking her, all the while not breaking eye contact. Now Vaggie was under Velvette’s spell, her power, and it was as good as an aphrodisiac as her ‘Love Potion’ itself.
Velvette sucked soundly on her clit and for a moment Vaggie felt like back when she still had wings and did a daring plunge downwards. She squirted as she climaxed, her whole body finally snapping and releasing the tension within. When she gasped for air, her pussy was still pulsing furiously.
Velvette took a good look at her oeuvre, the bite marks on Vaggie’s breasts, her dripping cunt, her disheveled appearance. She seemed pleased.
“You are truly Hell’s sluttiest assassin.”
So typically Velvette: lose control and then flip the tables. Vaggie never knew if she should find this charming or exhausting.
“Says the woman whose favourite dish is pussy.”
“I’m nothing if not generous, babe!” She got up and stood between Vaggie’s spread legs. The hunger in her eyes hadn’t completely sated yet.
“Of course you are,” Vaggie hummed. Their lips met and as Vaggie tasted herself in Velvette’s mouth, she thought that this might indeed be worth having had fallen from paradise.