I'm still on holiday, but I can feel a lot of the pressure that has built up over the last year finally lifting. The downside is that the urge to draw the pain out is also getting less, but I'm trying to integrate art into my daily life without being in crisis mode (any tipps are highly appreciated).
However, I also want to cherish these last few crazy months and since I love having something physical in hand, I've started making a book for myself, and it' feels super awesome to see my progress but also to read all the comments and conversations again (still thinking about, how to integrate them into the book)
notes: creative name, amiright? lol anyways this is random... no promises for reg uploads I just got divine inspo
summary: Vox is your boss and you're sort of fuck-buddies on the down-low. He messages you one night to come over, only for him to be high as a kite by the time you show up. Fortunately, this loser's libido is even higher then he is!
[NEW MESSAGE FROM: Vox (boss) 🩵]
Vox: Come over.
You: For what?
Vox: You know what.
You: Fine. See you in 20.
You set your phone in your pocket gently, your calm movements misrepresenting the excited flutter in your stomach. The "thing" you had with your boss was casual, and sometimes non-existent. And, still, even an ounce of affection had you acting like a completely different person.
Gone was the composed, efficient assistant Vox usually knew and in came the stumbling mess that melted under every touch. You always told yourself you'd act different, and every time your composure faltered upon seeing him. How humiliating.
After a brief look in the mirror and a change of clothes, you head over to your bosses floor of the V tower. The drive felt long, even though it was a relatively short drive. Anticipation gnawed at you the whole way there.
It'd been a few weeks since he'd given you attention. After the whole "war with heaven" debacle, Vox either hasn't had a body or been heavily sedated by the Vees to prevent him from going crazy again. It was almost sad seeing him so put down after everything... then again, he did hurt and almost kill half of the Pride ring, so you didn’t feel too bad for him.
After pulling into your designated parking space, you hop out of your car and head into the V-Tower, making sure to be inconspicuous as to not arouse attention to any nosy co-workers.
You walk into the elevator and scan your keycard to admit access to the 70th floor— Vox's floor. You brace yourself as the elevator quickly approaches the floor with a soft "ding" announcing your arrival.
"Just be cool," you quietly mutter to yourself. With a deep breath, you walk into the sleek penthouse. "Vox," you call out, "I'm here! ... Hello?".
"Over 'ere..." Vox's hand pops up from the couch and lazily waves you over, "c'mere.".
You walk over to the living area to find Vox laid out on the couch, a blissful smile on his face. Once he spots you, he sits up slowly and opens his arms wide, "Y/nnn! When'd you get here?".
You sigh, "Vox, I just walked in. Did Val give you sedatives again? Why does he need you on them now?".
"Noo, dollface, y've got it all wrong," he tugs on your pant leg and attempts to pull you onto the couch. "Work was fuckin' annoyin' and you were taking tooo long, so I did it myself!” He says triumphantly.
"Vox," you sit beside him and drag your hand down your face, "I didn't exactly plan to babysit you tonight...".
A clawed hand rubs up your thigh, "Who needs babysittin’?". He leans forward until you're laid against the couch, a lopsided smirk stretched across his screen, "I jus wanted to, y'know, fuck around.".
"You're high," you breathe out, trying to calm the arousal fluttering in your stomach, "we can't. I'm not gonna fuck you while you're barely even present.".
"Don' be like that, baby," he whines, grabbing your hand and peppering kisses along your arm, "I texted you before I e’en got high, I want you, Doll.".
"I don't know," you say. You try to resist him, but as soon as his lithe hands slide up your legs and pull down your pants, it was game over. Sitting up on his knees, Vox slides his trousers down and tosses them off haphazardly.
With a cocky smirk, he unbuttons his dress shirt and discards it onto the floor, leaving him in bright red boxers. Although the sight was tempting, you had to make sure he wasn't doing this because of the drugs.
"Wait," you sit up, "Vox, I really need to know if—".
"Shh shh," he coos, "I want this.”. He gestures to the tent in his boxers, “see? I can still get it up for you, sedated or not.”.
You whine, half tempted to talk through his sedative use and half temped to reach out and tug off his underwear.
With a resigned sigh, you concede, “Fine…”
___________
got lazy and didnt feel like writing smut, but perhaps ill do a part two with smut…