a/n: based of this ask: <3, this is like 2k words oop, i yapped too hard
"Velvette, care to explain WHY THERE IS A DEER IN MY OFFICE RIGHT NOW?!" Vox’s voice spikes into static so hard the lights flicker. He looks one tantrum away from broadcasting his meltdown across Hell.
Velvette doesn’t even blink. She just scrolls on her phone, gum snapping. "New secretary. Val and I hired ’em."
"A… secretary?" Vox lets out a sharp, glitchy laugh. like a modem dying violently. "Why the FUCK would I need a secretary?!"
"Oh my god, shut up." She waves her phone at him, flicking a spinning 3D middle finger emoji straight into his face. It bounces off his screen. "They’re not yours, you possessive toaster. They’re mine and Val’s. We hired them to fix this dumpster-fire of a schedule."
"The— the fuck— I do that!"
"And you do such a ‘tremendous’ job that Val— Valentino, king of ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’— went out of his way to find someone himself. Someone he wasn’t even trying to bang." She snorts. "That’s how desperate he was."
Vox just stares at her, static sputtering, like he’s having a blue-screen-of-death moment in real time. Velvette keeps typing, nails clicking aggressively. "Let’s not pretend, babe. The only reason you’re fumin’ is because they remind you of a certain menstruate-colored, bob-headed deer."
"FUCK— FUCK YOU—!" he screeches, glitching violently before zapping out like a TV forcibly unplugged.
And unfortunately… she wasn’t wrong.
Because the second he walked into his office, he practically snapped his neck when he saw a silhouette sitting at his desk, long ears, antlers. The same shape he’s been irrationally beefing with for years.
He almost bricked himself on the spot.
“Why are you sitting so close to me?”
The question hits the air like he’s accusing you of murder. You look up from your screen, deadpan already prepared. “Sir, I am literally in the farthest corner of the room.”
You gesture vaguely at your sad little workstation exile. “You put me here, yourself. After your twelve-thousand, four-hundred seventy-one complaints.”
You adjust your glasses slowly, professional, dignified, then pinch the bridge of your nose. The slight scrunch of your brow makes your ear twitch. Once. Barely noticeable.
Except to Vox who absolutelyy zoomed in on that ear like it's a personal attack. Static pops off him in irritated sparks, vents hissing like someone shoved a fork into a socket. He grips his pen so tight it looks like he’s trying to snap it in half.
“Why do you even need to be in my office?” he snaps, gesturing wildly as if the walls themselves betrayed him. “There’s— I don’t know— a hallway. A sewer. A black hole. Go there.”
You blink at him with the patience of a saint. “The only terminals connected to all company databases are in here,” you say evenly. “Miss Velvette instructed me to work inside your office.”
Vox lets out a glitchy scoff that sounds like corrupted audio. “Of course she did. Of course. She fucking hates me.”
You shrug. “She said it was ‘the logical choice.’”
“That means she hates me,” he insists, offended at the concept of logic itself.
You stare. He stares back, dramatic static radiating off him like an emotional microwave.
“Well you’re still annoying,” he declares suddenly, pointing his pen at you like he’s accusing you in court, “And you're throwing off my entire workflow.”
You arch a brow, “I haven’t spoken to you in twenty minutes.”
“You’re breathing loudly on purpose.”
You inhale, normally. Vox flinches like you fired a gun.
“Sir,” you warn.
“No! Because now you’re doing that— that thing. That passive-aggressive inhaling—"
“That is called ‘oxygen intake,’ sir.”
He slams his pen down hard enough to rattle the desk. “Well it’s fucking distracting!”
Your ear twitches again, dangerously this time. You pinch the bridge of your nose once more, the picture of someone desperately clinging to professionalism while contemplating homicide.
Then, without another word, you turn back to your screen. Calm. Controlled. So calm it makes him furious.
Behind you, Vox continues to spark and glitch, shaking in place like a malfunctioning appliance forced to behave.
From there, everything just spiraled, slow, steady, stupid— straight into madness.
Your mornings followed a cursed routine: you walked in juggling coffee, folders, a ringing phone, and whatever shred of hope survived overnight… and Vox greeted you with a look like you’d personally hit his factory reset button with a brick.
Your typing? “Too damn rhythmic—stop sounding like a metronome.”
Your breathing? “If you’re gonna inhale, do it quieter.”
Your hooves? “I can hear them. They’re distracting.”
Every task mutated into a battle of wills.
“Sir, you have a meeting in ten.”
“Great. Cancel it.”
“It’s with the board of directors.”
“Did I stutter? Cancel them.”
You sorted his files, mended tech that looked like it had survived a war, wrangled schedules that could break the average demon in half and he still hovered behind you like a seven-foot-tall, neon-lit toddler with a superiority complex.
And yet… every time you even hinted at resigning, both Val and Vel practically combusted. Total meltdown. Because for the first time in their lives? Their calendars weren’t a raging-dumpster inferno. They got breaks. They got lunch. They slept. A miracle by every Hellish metric.
Which is probably why they treat you like some sort of holy clerical saint— …and Vox treats you like an unwanted apparition glitching around his office.
You stand outside Vox’s office juggling a precarious tower of papers, your watch dinging with notifications, your phone wedged painfully between your shoulder and jaw, and two coffees balanced in a carton like some impossible circus act. One knee presses against the door, trying to nudge it open without toppling the stack in your arms.
The second the door clicks open, you charge in, launching into your usual flurry of excuses and rationalizations.
“I apologize, sir, the line at the shop was—”
You freeze mid-word, mid-step AND mid-breath. The coffees toppling over and spilling all on the floor.
Vox is asleep.
Slumped over his desk, head resting on a pile of slightly crumpled papers, one arm dangling like it doesn’t belong to him, vents hissing softly with faint wisps of smoke. His screen glows dimly, the brightness barely alive, flickering now and then like a half-asleep spirit.
He doesn’t even look… intimidating. Not right now. A pixelated crease forming where his cheek rests on paperwork. Even the static clinging to him, usually buzzing like an angry swarm, is muted, almost tender.
You pause, ears flicking. Your hands tighten on the papers in your arms.
And then, very gently, you start clearing the chaos from his desk. You slide the stacks of reports into neat piles, separate the action items from the junk, push pens into the cup, and quietly organize his scattered notes. Your movements are careful, almost reverent.
You can’t help but notice the slight rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers curl unconsciously around a pen. For a brief moment, he looks… almost normal. Almost human. And not annoying.
By the time you finish arranging his papers, straightening the desk, and cleaning the coffee spill, Vox jerks awake. The sudden hiss of vents and crackle of static startle you slightly.
“Fuck—fuck, the meeting,” he groans, blinking rapidly, like his system just booted from a forced shutdown.
“It’s been taken care of,” you say, calm, precise, “I cleared your schedule for today and moved the meetings. Nobody complained. They didn’t dare.”
“Huh?” He blinks again, still shaking off sleep and disbelief.
“Why didn’t you fucking wake me—”
“Here.” Coffee. Perfectly warm. You meet his eyes briefly, and for a second, he freezes. “Because you fell asleep. Which meant you were tired. Which meant waking you would’ve made the meeting worse. Do you know the consequences of attending a meeting while sleep-deprived? It would—”
“Okay, okay—shut the fuck up. I don’t care.”
Silence falls. Thick. Heavy. Almost tangible, settling around the room like a soft blanket.
And for once… Vox doesn’t have a single snarky remark, he just stares, uncharacteristically still. You return to your desk, flipping through the next stack of papers, ears flicking subtly at his occasional movements.
Vox didn’t mean to stare.
He never meant to do anything that made him look… soft, vulnerable, or like a malfunctioning human. Yet here he was, frozen mid-glitch, watching you move through his office like a whirlwind of efficiency— and somehow, impossibly, charm.
You were humming. Humming.
Soft, tuneless, and annoyingly cheerful. Not like the one with the charmingly sinister voice who would sing while ruining everything. No, this was… different. Innocent.
You tapped a folder against your palm, ears flicking with precision as you muttered, “Legal docs left, inventory right, Vel’s ridiculous photoshoot disaster in the trash where it belongs…”
Vox blinked. Once. Twice. Hard enough to spark.
You hopped to his blueprint board, replacing papers with the kind of springy little bounce that made you look like some woodland creature doing an extreme sport, And Vox, who had spent decades perfecting glare-and-destroy mode for anyone who annoyed him, short-circuited spectacularly.
Static hissed from his vents. Sparks popped loud enough for you to look over.
“Sir? Are you… glitching?” You asked, tilting your head. Innocent, curious, deer-like.
“No!” Vox snapped, springing upright so fast his pen cup nearly went airborne. “I—I was… evaluating your efficiency!”
“For…?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing. Nada. Buffering. Absolutely nothing of value came out.
You blinked, tilting your head with a subtle ear flick. Vox internally screamed. “Did… I do something wrong?”
“No,” he blurted, voice cracking just slightly, far too honest, far too fast. Immediately cursing himself.
You smiled, tiny, polite, just enough to make a static pulse erupt from his head like a miniature lightning storm. Then you went back to sorting his chaos as if nothing had happened. Vox’s circuits stuttered. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip the files from your hands and throw them across Hell. He also… didn’t. Couldn’t. Something about the way you moved—so completely not like that voice that used to haunt him—was… unsettlingly pleasant.
You glanced up again, eyebrow quirked. “…Sir?”
Vox jolted violently, like a toaster that realized it was also on fire. “DON’T—don’t look at me like that!”
“…Like what?”
“Like—like… all doe-eyed and—innocently distracting!”
You blinked slowly. “…I am literally a deer demon, sir.”
“That’s NOT—! That’s not the point—” He threw up his hands in frustration, fingers twitching, vents hissing like he was about to self-destruct.
You went back to your work, ignoring him with the professional focus of someone who dealt with chaos for breakfast.
Vox gripped the edge of his desk, feeling every circuit in his body misfire. This is bad. Catastrophically bad. His CPU felt… weird. Why does his system want to look at them again? Why does he… want them to smile at him?
He shoved his head into his hands. Two fingers parted, letting him sneak a peek at you like a teenager caught staring at a forbidden desert.
“F—fuck.”
a/n: , my writers block is hitting me HELP I'm trying to edit all my pirate overlord shark! reader stuff GAHHHH
CW: f!reader, overlord!reader, dubcon, pegging, overconfident!vox, humbled!vox, channeling kakegurui, you guys at Voxtek server I give you pegged!Vox so stop asking for more pegged!Vox you filthy degen /lh, peen bondage, i dunno what this is guys, it's smut okay? so like turn off your brain, bondage with chain, don't wanna be a sub!vox, anal fingering
He controls the screens. You control the cards. One deal drags two overlords into a game of power and filthy temptation. In an all-or-nothing bet, pride will burn, bodies will ache, and someone’s pleasure—along with their soul—will be on the line. (vox x f!reader)
In the bowels of Hell, where luxury braided itself with desire and every pleasure dripped with just a hint of agony, you reigned above the chaos like a deity carved from vice. The air shimmered with the perfume of sin, and the floor beneath your feet thrummed with the heartbeat of a thousand desperate wagers.
You tugged at the strings of lesser hearts with a mere curl of your finger, delighting in the thrill of watching others gamble everything away — love, memory, life, even the fraying scraps of their souls. In a realm where anything could be staked and lost, you stood as the Gambler Overlord, sovereign of risk and ruin.
“Bring him in,” you murmured to your assistant, brushing your fingertip beneath the chin of your favourite pet sinner, Sir Meow. Their blush warmed their soft fur, and a low purr rumbled through their small chest as they scurried to obey.
The door burst open. An electric presence filled the room. One of Hell’s most rapidly rising overlords stepped inside, a walking broadcast of ego and neon charm. The Media Overlord. Vox.
He flashed a smarmy grin, the glow of his TV head casting sapphire light across your dim chamber. His pinstripe suit was immaculate, every line crisp, every fold intentional, his bowtie shining like a promise of spectacle. You sat before your table, a neat deck of cards resting beside your folded hands, and watched him with an expression born of patience and quiet power.
“Hello, Mr. Media Overlord,” you said, your voice dripping like syrup, sweet enough to stick to his circuits.
It was as if someone offstage had whispered, “action.” His face brightened, his movements theatrical. Shadows on the walls danced as he swept dramatically across the room.
“Hello! I hope you had a lovely hellish day,” he chimed, giving you an exaggerated wink. He seized your hand and shook it with unnecessary enthusiasm. “I’m truly grateful you made the time to see me today.” His voice was so sweet it might have rotted enamel.
You tilted your head and studied him with unhurried curiosity. He held your gaze with unearned confidence, his grin swelling the more you observed him.
Slowly, you withdrew your hand and folded it back atop the table. Amusement fluttered lightly beneath your ribs. “Why don’t we cut to the chase, Mr. Media Overlord—”
“Please. Call me Vox.” He waggled his brow, the screen of his face exaggerating the sharpness of his smile.
“Then,” you said, leaning forward and pointing to the space before you. Sir Meow rushed to pull a chair into place with feline eagerness. “Vox, have a seat.”
His chuckle dripped with charm before he dropped into the seat, lounging as though it were a throne, legs spreading in a show of dominance or comfort — perhaps both. He steepled his fingers, then let one hand fall heavy against the table as he leaned forward.
“I won’t waste your time,” he said, his voice dropping into a lower register. “I know the rumours. You’ve been buying souls faster than anyone in this entire industry, and anyone foolish enough to challenge you ends up crushed.” He curled his hand into a fist and slammed it onto the table in a thunderous, theatrical gesture, clearly enjoying his performance.
You listened without interrupting, fingers gliding slowly over the back of your card deck. The textured surface grounded you in a way his voice never could. Vox leaned in, screen brightening like a stage light hungry for applause.
“How about an alliance, hmm? I’ve already got social media, the porn industry—”
You rose in one smooth movement, slicing through his sentence. Sir Meow bowed and slipped into the shadows as if the darkness had summoned them home. You drifted around the table, your fingertips trailing across Vox’s shoulder, his back, the opposite shoulder, each touch deliberate enough to make him still.
“I’m not interested in power grabs,” you murmured. You bent close to the curve of his bezel, your voice brushing his screen like a secret. His body tightened in response. “I don’t care about infighting, overlords, politics, or territory. Power bores me.” Your hand caught the back of his chair and pulled it. You slid onto his lap with practiced ease, your arm hooking behind him. His hands flew to steady you, metal claws grazing your thigh and spine with a cold, electric bite. He swallowed hard, his posture trembling under the weight of you.
“All I want,” you whispered, smile curling slow and sharp, “all I’ve ever wanted… is the thrill. The rush of taking everything or losing everything.”
You shifted until your legs straddled his, your palms pressing lightly to his chest. His screen flickered, an anxious stutter of pixels, and a vivid band of cyan cut across his face. Confusion. Discomfort. Something dangerously close to desire.
“So. Play a game with me, Mr. Vox.” Your voice dripped down the space between you, warm and coaxing. Your hips pressed into his, and you felt the unmistakable throb of arousal beneath the fabric of his slacks.
“A game,” he breathed, barely audible.
“Mhm.” You leaned in, chest moulding to his, faces almost touching. “If I lose, you can take everything.” His cock hardened against you, pulse quickening with want. “My wealth. My influence.” You brushed your lips close enough that he could feel the shape of your words. “My soul.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, the word slipping out raw. His claws dug into your hips, pulling you flush against the heat he couldn’t hide.
“And if I win…” You pressed your forehead to his, teeth catching your bottom lip, “…give me your virginity.”
Silence stretched, brittle and stunned. His screen blinked once. Then twice. His eyes widened and snapped into outrage as he pushed you back with both hands.
“What? No. No. You can’t— I’m— seriously?” His voice rose in disbelief, glitching with static. “You think I, the Media Overlord, business partner of Hell’s porn Overlord, am a virgin? A virgin? That is— absolutely— insane!” He looked genuinely offended, scandalized on a molecular level.
You tapped a finger to his chest. “My sources say no one has ever fucked you.” He inhaled sharply, ready to argue, but you spoke over him with the smoothness of a blade sliding home. “In the ass.”
His screen glitched with a static tremor, cyan light flaring brighter across his features. “W-what?”
You didn’t need to see all of him to know every muscle had gone rigid. You were fairly certain he was clenching more than just his jaw.
“You see,” you began lightly, almost conversational, “your business partner loves gambling with my girls. He’s fond of little sexual wagers. Harmless. Playful. Quite thrilling, if you’re in the mood for that sort of thing.” You eased off his lap, stood, and then settled yourself on the edge of the table facing him. The cards shifted behind you like restless spirits. “Like I said, I’m not interested in power or politics. I only take things I think would be… fun to take.”
Your hand pressed into the table as you leaned toward him. Shadows curled around you like a cloak. “I heard from my girls that your business partner has been trying to fuck you for, oh, the last forty years. And you always refuse.” You tilted your head, letting your breath fan warm against your own parted lips as a shiver of desire rippled through you. “It was adorable listening to him complain about it.”
Your arms wrapped around your torso as if you were holding in a secret only your body understood. Heat rose to your cheeks, bright and greedy. “There is nothing more intoxicating than taking something everyone else wants.” Your thighs pressed together as you suppressed a tremor. “And to gamble that away…” A soft, helpless sound slipped from your throat. “…is pure ecstasy.”
“You’re crazy,” Vox muttered, his expression twisting in both disbelief and discomfort.
You grinned, radiant and wild. “We’re in Hell, baby. Down here, crazy is practically currency.”
Vox scoffed, then let out a sharp laugh, static snapping like sparks at the corners of his screen. His single eye spun in a hypnotic circle before blinking out. He stood abruptly, leaning over you, slamming his hands down on either side of your thighs. The table trembled. You lifted your hands to cradle his head, holding it steady, your gaze heavy-lidded and molten.
“You’re telling me,” he said between bursts of laughter, “you’re willing to bet your entire empire”—his screen flickered—“tens of millions of souls under your control”—his laugh rose louder, almost manic—“just for the chance to fuck my ass?”
Your eyes widened, delight blooming in your chest like a field of golden flowers. “Yup!” you chirped, giddy as a lovesick maiden. “Mhm.” You kicked your heels like someone floating on pure joy. “I knew you’d understand, Voxxy.” A giggle bubbled out. “Can I call you that?”
“You’re an absolute fucking idiot,” he wheezed, still laughing hard enough to glitch. “But fine. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He stepped back and extended his hand.
Elation flooded you, warm and dizzying. Your breath caught, as if you’d been kissed by luck itself. With a fluttering heartbeat and a smile blooming like a sinful sunrise, you took his hand.
“May Lady Luck smile favourably on you,” you whispered, intoxicated with thrill and anticipation.
You slipped off the table with a feather-light hop and sank gracefully into your chair. “What game would you like to play?” you asked, lifting your deck and shuffling with effortless, practiced precision. Cards whispered between your fingers like obedient spirits. “Roulette, blackjack—”
“What game does Valentino play with your girls?” Vox interrupted, arms crossing tightly over his chest.
Your hands paused mid-shuffle. A slow, wicked smile unfurled across your face like a blooming night flower. “Strip poker.”
His grin sharpened with confidence. “Then let’s play that.”
A soft giggle escaped you, warm and honeyed. “I want to make it exciting,” you murmured. Your fingers drifted to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down inch by deliberate inch. Vox’s eyes widened, his posture leaning forward before he could stop himself.
“You see, eternity is so very long, Vox.” The dress slipped off your shoulders and pooled around your feet like silk-shadowed petals. “So many men have owned my soul before. But they died.” You let out a bright, careless laugh. “Their fault, of course. They were dreadfully boring.”
Vox straightened instinctively as your hand reached behind you. A soft click, and your bra unhooked. It slid down your arms, falling soundlessly. Your breasts bared themselves to the dim light, and Vox’s jaw slackened, his screen flickering once as he tried—and failed—to look anywhere else.
“All I want,” you said, placing your palm against the desk and leaning forward just enough to push your breasts together with your arms, “is the thrill of losing everything.” Your voice dipped, silken and shadowed. “I want to feel despair again. That’s when I’m truly alive.”
“R-right,” Vox stammered, his voice cracking like a faulty speaker. His gaze darted away, then snapped right back to your chest as if held on a string.
“So,” you purred, tilting your head, “shall we make this a one-game show? One hand. All or nothing.”
He swallowed hard. Hesitation flickered across his face like a faulty signal.
“It’s alright if you’re scared,” you whispered, your tone soft enough to feel like breath on his skin. “Most men are. Risk is such a rare virtue.” Your voice floated delicately, melodic with mock sympathy.
The effect was instant. A deep frown carved itself across Vox’s face. He shot to his feet and began stripping with frantic determination. Off went his coat. His bowtie. Shoes. Socks. Pants. Shirt. Piece by piece he shed them, stumbling once, kicking garments aside, until he stood defiantly before you in nothing but shark-print boxers.
“I’m not a little bitch,” he snapped, shoulders squared, posture proud. The outline of his half-hard cock strained against the fabric, bold and unmissable.
Delight burst out of you in a bright, ringing squeal. You clapped your hands together like a child discovering treasure. Laughter bubbled from your chest, pure and effervescent. “I’m in love,” you chirped. “You’re incredible, Voxxy! Absolutely incredible!”
You adored sinners like Vox. Sinners ruled by their emotions, shackled by pride, unable to hide the raw, pulsing truth beneath their skin. They made the game delicious. They made every wager feel like you were peeling a soul open layer by layer, stripping away every pretense until nothing remained but hunger, instinct, and the glittering core of whom they truly were. At the end of such games, there was no mask, no armour. Just two sinners laid bare, down to the atoms of their corrupted souls.
Vox basked in your praise, smirking as though your delight had been crafted just for him. He lowered himself back into his seat, ego glowing as brightly as the cyan hue of his screen.
You followed, settling into your chair with a soft rustle, biting down a giggle as Vox openly stared at your exposed chest. His gaze wasn’t subtle. He didn’t even try to pretend.
You snapped your fingers, sharp as a spark. Sir Meow slipped from the shadows with the elegance of a ghost. He bowed, lifted a fresh deck from the velvet-lined box, and began to shuffle. Cards snapped briskly between his fingers before he dealt two each to you and Vox.
You both checked your cards. Your face remained calm. Vox, naturally, wore a shit-eating grin that stretched wider by the second.
Sir Meow laid the community cards out one at a time, letting you both build your hands. Vox’s eye scanned each card meticulously, flicking back and forth between his hand and the table with increasing anticipation. The room shrank around the rhythm of your heartbeat and the soft flip of cardboard.
In a matter of rounds, you each held five cards. Just before the reveal, Vox let out a low chuckle. Then a bigger one. Then he burst into triumphant laughter.
“Fuck,” he crowed, trembling with exhilaration as he slapped his hand onto the table. A straight flush.
Heat curled deep inside you. Your thighs pressed together, desire blooming warm and slick beneath your underwear. You inhaled slowly, the breath thick and wanting, as you adjusted just enough to drag friction against the ache between your legs.
Then, with ritual slowness, you began to reveal your cards. One. By. One.
You didn’t take your eyes off his face. You lived for this moment. People often thought you craved the gamble itself, the threat of losing everything. But that wasn’t the truth. You were a liar. A cheat. You weren’t addicted to your despair. You were addicted to theirs. The instant when your opponent’s confidence melted, when their certainty fractured, when they realized—too late—that they’d already lost everything.
The final card left your fingertip.
Vox froze.
A stunned silence wrapped itself around him like a noose.
A royal flush.
“Oh fu—” he started, but the curse was cut short as black chains erupted from the floor. They coiled around his ankles, his wrists, his throat, snapping tight with a metallic hiss.
“Ugh—” Vox gritted, straining against the restraints as they locked him in place.
Sir Meow bowed deeply. “Enjoy your victory, my lady.”
You offered him a serene, hungry smile in return.
You rose from your chair with slow, deliberate grace. “That was a splendid game,” you whispered, your voice silk-soft and pleased. Your fingertip brushed the waistband of his boxers, and the fabric smoldered instantly into ash. “I had fun, Mr. Vox.”
Your hand drifted down and wrapped around his soft cock. One slow pump. Then another. He hardened quickly in your grip, the heat blooming beneath your palm like a captured spark.
“Fuck… whatever,” he muttered. A flush brightened his screen as he turned his head sharply away, pretending boredom, as though the act could disguise the tremor in his voice. “Just— just make it quick.”
“Aww, don’t be like that.” You pouted gently, then smiled with warm mischief. “I want you to have a good time too.” You lifted your chin. “After everything, your business partner does burn an awful lot of money in my house.”
“Damn it, Val,” Vox grumbled, static trembling at the edges of his tone.
“That’s why I’d hate for us to end up as enemies.” A thin black silk ribbon materialized in your palm, curling around your fingers like a living thing. “At the very least, we should stay on neutral terms.”
The chains dragged him upright. His rectangular nipples glowed with cyan fire, the gill-like markings along his ribs shimmering the same electric blue. His cock pulsed with that same colour, the mushroom tip luminous, a bead of precum forming like a droplet of liquid light.
You lowered yourself to your knees before him, your face hovering near his length. Reverently, almost worshipfully, you cupped him in both hands and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the centre of his shaft. He choked on a quiet groan and tried to bury the sound in a forced clearing of his throat.
With slow, careful motions, you looped the silk ribbon around his cock. You worked gently around his balls, tightening the pattern with patient precision. The black fabric crisscrossed over glowing blue flesh, forming an intricate shibari weave. A neat bow rested at the top like a finishing touch on a gift meant only for you.
“There.” A breath of contentment left your lips. “This looks lovely on you.”
You lifted your gaze. Vox stared down, two thin trails of red drool spilling from the bottom of his screen. “You like it?” you teased softly.
His eyes widened before he snapped his gaze away. “Whatever,” he muttered, embarrassed and defensive all at once.
“Don’t be a sore loser, Voxxy.” You giggled, clapping twice. From the shadows, a bottle of lube and a strapped harness floated forward, presenting themselves like loyal servants. Vox’s breath hitched when he saw the thick eight-inch dildo secured to the strap.
“Don’t worry,” you soothed, your voice melodic and calming. You flipped open the bottle. The lube dripped thick and warm onto your fingers, slow and glossy, stringing between your fingertips as you rubbed them together. “It’s the warming kind,” you whispered, watching the way Vox drew a deep breath, his chest rising with a shiver of anticipation.
Still kneeling before him, you pressed a delicate kiss to the swollen head of his cock. The touch sent a visible shiver rippling through his body, the blue glow along his ribs flickering like struck neon. Your other hand drifted lower until the pad of your index finger found the tight, quivering ring of his ass. With slow, patient pressure, you eased your finger inside. His muscles clenched instantly around you, trembling like a live wire.
“Fuck… fuck… fuck—” Vox squeezed his eyes shut as his screen glitched. A sharp spark of electricity cracked from the side of his head.
“Shhh,” you soothed, your voice warm as velvet. “Just relax for me.” You worked your finger deeper, feeling the gradual surrender of his body as he took long, shaky breaths that tried to steady him.
Then you curled your finger.
“Oh—fuck!” Vox cried, his breath punching out in broken gasps. His hips jerked upward in helpless little thrusts, chasing sensation, chasing anything you were willing to give him. Precum spilled from the glowing tip of his cock, streaking down the black ribbon as it tightened around his growing shaft. “F-fuck, fuck me,” he begged, voice cracking as his cock swelled harder, throbbing with need.
Without mercy, you circled the spot again. Pressed. Massaged. Vox’s head fell back violently, his whole frame shuddering, abdomen clenching in waves. His voice shifted between a growl and a needy whine, as if this were pleasure he’d never tasted, pleasure he’d been starved for. “I—I’m gonna—fuck—” His cock bobbed wildly, desperate for your touch, begging without words.
Before he could reach the edge, you slipped your finger out of him.
A wounded little sound escaped his throat. His knees fell wider apart, his breath coming in fast, ragged huffs. “Holy fuck…” he whispered, dazed, not fully understanding why his body was shaking.
You rose slowly, watching him through half-lidded eyes as you strapped the harness around your hips. His gaze clung to the thick dildo jutting from the strap, obsession, and trepidation warring on his face. You coated it in lube, pouring generously until it gleamed with a slick, dripping sheen. Ropes of lube slid over the length and dribbled onto the floor with wet, obscene sounds.
When you stepped close, he stared up at you like you were both executioner and salvation.
One gentle push to his shoulder was enough to topple him. He hit the floor on his back, chains tightening as his arms folded behind his head, legs lifting and parting without resistance. His pretty, bound cock rested on his stomach, twitching in anticipation.
You positioned yourself, pressing the dildo’s head against his still-glossy, loosened rim. It slid in with sinful ease. Vox’s mouth fell open as a deep, shuddering moan tore from him. All pretense vanished; his body melted against the floor, offering itself entirely.
And then, wickedly, you tilted your head and asked, “Do you want me to stop?”
His muscles jolted tight. His eyes flew open, bright with panic and want. “W-what?” His voice cracked into a soft, needy whine.
“Well,” you sighed sweetly, dripping false innocence like honey, “I’d just feel so bad.” You traced a fingertip over his trembling thigh. “I don’t want to be the only one having fun.”
He stared at you like you’d grown two heads, and honestly, who could blame him. He was laid out before you, completely open, chained and folded into a submissive display, his cock tied into a neat humiliating bow, his thighs trembling as they held the angle you’d forced him into. And you had the audacity to say you felt bad.
“It’s…” His voice tripped over itself. He looked away, eyes lowering to hide the heat flooding his face. “It’s the damn deal. I have to hold up my end of the bargain, so…” He swallowed hard and raised his leg a little higher, exposing himself even more. “Just get it done and over with.” His teeth caught his bottom lip, and the blush on his cheeks spread like wildfire.
He was split cleanly between two instincts: his stubborn pride clawing for control, and his raw, aching desire betraying him with every twitch of his body. For a moment, you toyed with the idea of dragging it out, but his expression was too intoxicating to ruin with cruelty.
“As you wish.” Your grin was slow and wicked, and before he could snap that it wasn’t his wish at all, you pushed in halfway.
He choked on his breath like you’d stolen it from him.
“A-ah…” The sound wasn’t meant to escape, and you knew it. You saw it in the flutter of his eyes, the shiver in his legs, the way his fingers curled reflexively in the chains.
You sank into him inch by inch, until the heat radiated within you and his body opened beautifully beneath you. “Feel good?” you murmured.
He couldn’t answer. Not in words. His whole body spoke for him instead: muscles tightening, then softening; his chest lifting in short, hungry breaths; his cock pulsing desperately against his stomach.
You slid out slowly, then pushed back in with a steady rhythm, the kind that unravelled him one measured stroke at a time.
Only the two of you existed now. Your breath, his breath, and the obscene wet sounds of lube and your thrusts filling the room.
His calf flexed as he looked down between your bodies, eyes widening at the sight of you pushing him open. His breath hitched, his voice tangled in his throat, and choked, broken noises forced their way out despite everything he tried to swallow back. A small quiver became a tremor, and then his hips started to rise to meet yours, desperate for more.
“Oh fuck, just…” he gasped. His cock smeared precum across his abdomen, dripping steadily like he was melting from the inside. “Just… fuck…” His voice cracked into a whimper, his body twitching under the weight of pleasure.
“You close?” you asked, and before he could answer, you pulled back and slammed into him with one brutal, perfect thrust.
He growled and cried out, his chest arching sharply, his cock throbbing like it was begging to burst.
He was right there. Teetering.
You could have been cruel. You could have kept him on that edge until he was begging, until he cried. But patience had never been your virtue.
Your hips snapped forward harder. Faster. Long, deep strokes that made his body jolt with every impact. His balls bounced with each slam, his body dragging slightly across the floor from the force.
His screen glitched. His face flickered between himself and a rainbow of static, like the pleasure was overloading his whole system.
You pounded him until his voice doubled on itself, a stereo of desperate sounds, as everything inside him tightened all at once. And then he broke. Completely. His milky cum shot up in thick spurts, painting his chest and neck, droplets landing on his glitching screen. His orgasm slammed through him with such force that his entire body shook.
He looked ruined. Beautifully, thoroughly ruined.
You slipped out of him slowly, savouring the way his body tried to cling to the shape of you even after you were gone. The chains evaporated all at once, but Vox didn’t move. He only twitched, sprawled out on the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, trembling under each lingering aftershock.
The orgasm still rolled through him in slow, devastating waves, leaving his legs spread wide and useless. His cock softened lazily against his abdomen as the last of the bondage released its hold. His face glowed with a full rainbow signal bar, flickering helplessly as he completely lost connection to his composure.
Every few seconds his body jerked, a small involuntary shiver that told you the pleasure was still rippling inside him, still echoing through his circuits and nerves.
Your own chest rose and fell sharply. You dropped the strap-on with a dull thud, and the second the weight left you, you felt it—your cunt throbbing, hot and swollen, pulsing with a need you had denied yourself. A low ache spread through you, sharp and consuming, the pressure of wanting so badly to come and knowing you weren’t going to. Not yet. Maybe not at all.
You pressed a hand to your face, fingers sliding over your cheek as you looked down at him.
Your beautifully ruined little… friend. Vox lay there drenched in his release, streaks of white drying across his chest, droplets clinging to the edges of his screen. He looked wrecked, undone in a way you doubted he even understood.
A slow smile tugged at your lips, something warm, victorious, and cruel all at once.
SUMMARY after alastor laughed in his face, vox made a deal with an overlord
AUTHORS NOTE hihihi i’ve been really enjoying the new hazbin hotel season so i wanted to write something!! uh just to put it out there as well, while i do like hbht — i don’t support viziepop at all. anyway i hope you all like it ^^
WARNINGS/TAGS second person pov, she/her pronouns when character’s refer to reader, no use of y/n cause people know you as voodoo, manipulation, vox is lwk in love with you buuuttt it doesn’t have to be read as romantic, i don’t have a massive understanding of hbht lore as i don’t consume anything but the show so some things may be incorrect, spoilers for season 2 of hazbin hotel
WORD COUNT 2,802
After Alastor rejected him, Vox felt completely and utterly helpless, as though the ground had been pulled out from beneath his feet.
He had thought Alastor was his friend—he had admired him, looked up to him, even idolised him. And this is what he gets in return? It's not fair!
Vox walked down the street, kicking at rocks and groaning at the fact that it had started raining. He didn't even know that it could rain in Hell, but apparently the universe was determined to make his misery complete.
Stupid. God, he's so stupid. Of course Alastor, the Radio Demon, wouldn't want to be partners with him. He's just a stupid, pathetic-
"Hello, Vox," a voice spoke angelically from the shadows as he passed a dark alley.
Vox turned with a frown, his screen flickering slightly. "Who's there?" he asked, trying to hide the fear creeping into his voice.
He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around, only to be met with an empty street. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, pounding against his ribs.
"Vox…" a voice sang out, like a siren's call.
Vox turned in a circle, frantically trying to see anything that could hint at where the voice was coming from. And that was when he saw it — a door slowly opening in the alleyway, right at the very end, spilling warm golden light onto the wet pavement.
"Come on, Vox," the voice sang out once again.
Vox's feet moved before his mind could decide whether he should follow or not, almost as if he had no control over his own body like the voice itself was moving his limbs for him.
He walked through the door with furrowed brows, trying to make sense of what was happening. The door shut behind him with a soft click, leaving him in a room that was warm and inviting, which was nice, considering he was soaking wet from the rain.
"Hello?" he called out cautiously, jumping slightly when old jazz music suddenly started playing from multiple radios scattered throughout the space. The sight of the radios made him frown deeply, because it brought his mind right back to Alastor and the humiliation he'd just endured.
He shook his head forcefully, trying to dispel those thoughts, and walked further into the room.
it was like stepping into a crowded antique shop, and Vox found himself accidentally bumping into things as he walked, the room seemingly going on and on, stretching endlessly before him until he finally saw a silhouette sitting at a circular table, gracefully pouring tea from an ornate teapot into two cups.
He felt something push him from behind, and he stumbled backwards falling into a chair sliding across the floor on its own, pulling him towards the table.
"How do you like your tea, sweetheart?" that same ethereal voice asked, but the darkness surrounding you covered your face completely from Vox's view, leaving only your silhouette visible.
"I'm sorry, what is this?" Vox asked with a confused frown.
"How do you like your tea, sweetheart?" you repeated, your tone unchanging, almost like a broken record stuck on the same phrase.
"Tell me what the hell this is!" Vox demanded, his voice rising as his anger and frustration increased.
"How do you like your tea, sweetheart?" you repeated once more.
Vox sighed heavily, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Milk, no sugar," he finally answered, deciding it was easier to play along.
You poured the milk into his cup before passing it to him, his wet shirt dripping water droplets onto the polished table surface when he reached forward to take it.
"By golly, you're absolutely soaking," you observed. "Here-" You waved your hand gracefully, and a gust of warm wind suddenly spiralled around Vox before dissipating, leaving him completely dry. Vox looked down at his now-dry hands in shock, the crease between his eyebrows deepening as he processed what had just happened.
"Who are you?" Vox asked hesitantly, looking up at you, though he still couldn't make eye contact due to the shadow that covered your features.
"Well, let's not bother ourselves with such small details," you replied dismissively,. "Now tell me, Vox, why were you crying?"
"How did you know I was crying?" he asked, frowning suspiciously.
"I have eyes and ears everywhere, darling," you said simply. "Now, why were you crying?"
"It doesn't matter," Vox mumbled, looking down and fiddling nervously with his fingers, unable to meet your gaze even if he could see it.
"Oh, now don't be like that," you gently reprimanded. "I'm here to lend an ear. Sometimes it helps to talk about these things."
"Uh…" Vox sighed deeply. "There was this demon Overlord that I thought I was becoming friends with. But he… he laughed in my face when I asked him if he wanted to work together. Which really sucks because I genuinely looked up to him. I admired everything about him. I thought maybe we could be partners, equals even. But I was wrong."
You sat there silently for a long moment, letting his words hang in the air between you, before finally speaking. "My dear, why would you trust an Overlord? They're notorious for their treachery and self-interest."
Vox shrugged helplessly, not having a good answer, feeling even more foolish now that someone had pointed out what should have been obvious all along.
"What was the deal?" you asked him, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
"Huh?" Vox responded, confusion evident in his tone.
"The deal," you repeated patiently, as though explaining something obvious to a child. "You wanted to work with the Radio Demon, so I assume you offered him some sort of partnership agreement."
"I didn't mention that it was Alastor I was talking to,” Vox replied defensively, his body tensing as he tried to stand up from his chair but an unseen weight pressed down on him, holding him firmly in place and not allowing him to leave his seat. "Let me go!" he said angrily, his screen flickering with agitation. "I don't know what game you're playing, but let me go-"
"Let's not quarrel," you interrupted. "It's not good for relationships."
Vox glared angrily at you. "Let. Me. Go," he repeated slowly, emphasising each word.
"What are you going to do, Vox?" you asked rhetorically, a hint of amusement colouring your voice. "You have no power in here. And even if you did, you couldn't overpower me. Most people can't."
Vox was silent for a long moment, his brain trying to piece together what the hell was happening and who exactly you were.
"You're an Overlord," he finally said, the realisation dawning on him.
"They were right! You are smart!" you exclaimed with what sounded like genuine delight.
"They?" Vox questioned, his confusion deepening. "Who are 'they'?"
He jumped slightly when he felt a cold hand settle on his shoulder, turning his head sharply and seeing his own shadow grinning at him menacingly.
"Now, Vox, if I'm not mistaken… you want power, right?" you said, leaning forward slightly in your chair.
Vox nodded silently, unable to deny it even if he wanted to.
"Well, I can give you that power," you told him matter-of-factly. "You just have to shake my hand." You extended your hand toward him, holding it out expectantly in the space between you.
"What's the catch?" he asked warily, not trusting you at all despite the tempting offer.
"No catch," you replied , your hand still held out for him to take. "Well… you just have to get your name out there, build your reputation. And I'll do the rest."
"I'd like to know the whole plan before I make any deal with you," Vox insisted, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.
You scoffed dismissively. "The whole deal is that I own your soul. Simple as that. And in return, I'll help you build your empire from the ground up. And while they aren't dead yet — I'll even get you some friends to help along the way-"
"What do you mean 'aren't dead yet'?" Vox interrupted, his curiosity getting the better of him. "How can you see the living? I thought that was impossible for sinners."
"The more questions you ask, the less inclined I am to help you, Vox," you said, a warning edge creeping into your previously friendly tone. "So why don't you just shut up and shake my hand?"
He stayed silent, unmoving, weighing his options carefully.
"Come on…" you coaxed, your voice taking on that siren-like quality again. "Won't you shake a poor sinner's hand?"
Vox would've liked to say that he never shook your hand — that after Alastor laughed at him, he created his own empire with no outside help. But he can't. He can't say that because he shook your hand. He made a deal with you, and you own his soul.
God, it's pathetic. You've set up everything for him and the Vees. I mean, the second Val and Vel died, you got them to make deals with you as well, helping them all become the biggest names in Hell.
Of course, you would be the biggest name if you bothered to leave your home, if you didn't just send your stupid shadows to do your dirty work.
He doesn't even know your name, for Hell's sake! You've owned him for almost seventy years, and he doesn't even know your fucking name!
Well, technically.
Not your real name, at least. He only knows your stupid fake name that other people call you. Voodoo.
Even thinking about it for too long makes him angry. Angry because he hates you, and angry because he so desperately wants to know more about you. He wants to know everything there is to know about you. And not even for a sinister reason, not really. Just because he thinks you would be a good front and centre addition to the team. Because how amazing would it be if he could get the Voodoo to join his team properly? Because, while yes, you are technically on his team now, you're the coach, not a player like he is.
Today he has his regular meeting scheduled with you. Once a month, he comes into your shop, telling you about what's happening and his master plans. Although he doesn't truly understand why you need these meetings as he knows you're always watching through your shadows — he is very happy to see you again and always has a skip in his step the day of.
He has a binder full of information to show you, walking down the familiar alleyway, your door already open for him.
With how much he comes here now, he doesn't flinch when the door shuts behind him, nor does he bump into any objects, having now figured out the best way to make his way through your clutter.
"Hello, hello!" he greets you with a grin, falling into the chair that pulls him to the table.
"You seem chipper, Vox," you noted, pouring him a cup of tea
"Hell yes, I am!" he exclaimed. "I have so, so much to tell you!"
"Well, I'm all ears, sugar."
Vox rambled for a while, telling you stuff you quite frankly already know, but you didn't bother telling him that. In fact, it's nice to hear the difference in stories from other points of view. You took a sip from your tea as you listened.
"And me and the Vees are going to overtake Heaven!"
You spit out your tea in shock. That part you were not told about by your shadows.
"What!?" you yelled, turning into your demonic form with your shadow overtaking both Vox and yourself, darkness swallowing the room.
Vox cowered, lowering himself in his chair. "Uh, yeah… we, uh… we- we planned to overtake Heaven, uh… to become God, basically, and be the strongest people in the afterlife…" he explained, his voice trembling.
"You stupid, reckless fool!" you yelled. "What in the name of all that's unholy were you thinking?"
Vox wanted to cry. He thought you knew. He thought that maybe his shadow or Valentino's or Velvette's shadow had reported to you and told you of the plan before he came here.
"I- I- I thought you knew," he whimpered, his screen flickering with distress.
"Well, obviously I didn't, now did I?" you snapped. "Lord have mercy, Vox, I expected better from you!"
"You-" Vox cut himself off, trying to figure out how he could fix this. "You could be God. You… I mean, you own my soul! Instead of me being God, you can. You can rule over everything. You'd be perfect for it!"
Your shadows dwindled slightly but still left you being a black blob of darkness.
"You know good and well how much I hate the spotlight, Vox," you replied, your tone stern. "You ask me every single meeting if I would join you and the Vees, and my answer was always no. And now you expect me to want to be God? Child, have you lost your mind?"
Vox stayed silent, unable to meet your gaze even through the darkness.
"And, by the way, you think you, of all people, could be God?" you asked, disbelief colouring your words.
Vox frowned, the words hurting him more than he thought possible.
"You thought itty-bitty Vox could play God?" you continued, your voice taking on a mocking edge that cut deep. "Sugar, that's just plain foolish."
You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're a joke, Vox! The only reason you're so powerful is because of me! And I can take that away just as easily as I gave it to you. So do not — and I mean do not — go through with that plan, or I will tear you and the Vees down so fast it'll make your screen spin! You hear me, honey?"
Vox stared at you for a long moment before speaking, his voice small. "Okay." He nodded slowly. "I'll… I'll get rid of the plan. We won't do it. I promise."
Your shadow form disappeared, leaving only an unclear view of your face.
"I want you to leave, Vox," you told him, your voice quieter now but still firm. "I need some time to myself."
"What?" he asked with a frown, confusion and hurt evident in his expression. Usually, after chatting over business, you and he would talk casually almost like friends. Those were his favorite parts of these meetings.
"I don't want to see you right now, cher," you said, rubbing at your forehead, trying to ward off a headache. "I need to think, and I can't do that with you here."
Vox sighed heavily, standing up from the chair. "I'm sorry," he told you, his voice genuine. "I didn't mean to make you upset. I really thought you knew. I would never…"
He trailed off, not knowing how to finish that sentence. He walked away from you, towards the door of the store. Once he was out, he turned to look at the door when it shut, watching as it disappeared into the wall as it always did.
He stood there for a moment, and the more he thought about your reaction and your mean words, the angrier he became.
"Fuck you," he muttered under his breath as he walked away. "Fucking fuck! I'm going to fucking take over Heaven anyway. She can't fucking stop me. Fucking asshole. Who does she think she is?"
But even as the words left him, doubt gnawed in his mind. Because deep down, he knew exactly who you were and he knew you absolutely could stop him. But damnit to hell if he wasn’t going to try.
authors note
okay hihi i hope you guys enjoyed that!! i might write a part two (or make this a series) once more episodes come out because i do have a few more ideas but it’s not definite
also.. i just want to mention how funny i find the part where voodoo said overlords are only known for their self interest and then less than a few moments later vox was like ‘okay!! i’ll make a deal with you!!’ he so stupid 🥹🥹 i love him
You dont really remember how you got the position as The Feeder of Vox sharks. And honestly ? You did not care.
You used to work with animals back in your living days, so what if the animals from hell were different from the ones above and a bit more agressive ? You still prefered them over other sinners and demons alike.
Plus, this was better work than...whatever other things went down with the Vs.
And you had your favorite.
"Vark! time to eat" you called from avobe the water of his big tank. Behind you, a couple of sinners tied up, begging with their eyes to be spared. But hey, you were not a hero, and hell was hell.
You never felt guilt after giving Vark his food, He would look rather happy and make your dead heart beat up in awae.
Said sharks dorsal fin appear and you tossed two sinners into the water without a care, only listening to Vark biting and seeing the blood come up.
You loved Vark. He was a perfect specimen. Even if you were scared of him at first (who would not?), you used to keep your distance from the water. Only getting close enough to leave the sinner and run back away before Vark would feed.
But time passed, you were not sure how much. You never asked if he had any other feeder before, maybe he did...and said feeder became food too.
You respected him. The water was his home, his territory, and you were only a guest...maybe less than that. It was a slow process for both. Vark not feeling like you were going to get in his dam home, and you respecting his space. Did you baby talk him? Only in your head at first. Then, when you were assigned to clean the outside of the tank and saw not only Vark but other sharks too, you could not help yourself and talk out loud about them, of how beautiful and also scary beings they were. How their red neon lights made the tank look better.
And one day? when said task was assigned again, you found yourself face to face with Vark. Even if a tall and tight glass separated both of you, you still felt the power he radiated.
And between, fear, and exciment you waved at him, and Vark seemed to recognize you as his feeder. Because in response his big red lend did a blink at you.
And so, Vark would come up earlier than usual, to greet you with his dorsal fin, sometimes he would make waves towards you. Other times he would splash doing a show off moment.
You got a umbrella later, because being soaked for the rest of the day was not an option.
You even found a resemblence between him and his owner, Vox. Even if the overlord never gave you a second look, you have seen Vox baby talk Vark and honestly? It was cute to see two powerful beings being cute with each other.
A splash of water broke your thoughts, Vark was close again. He have been coming closer the last days, sometimes you felt like these trainers from above. The big scary shark was also a big puppy, and liked to be touched...at least from you. And liked to beg for more food too.
"Sorry big boy, not extra food today" You said softly caressing his skin, your hand soon getting wet. Another splash came and you just laughted "I know, i know....but i was in deep trouble last time..."
A few bubbles came up, as if he was saying "Sorry" but you said nothing, just gave him some more pets and prepared to leave. You still had tasks around.
"See you tomorrow big boy!!" You saluted, getting something like a roar? from him.
--------
Vox liked to keep everything he own in check, That included Vark and his other sharks. Truth to be told, it was a pain to find someone who could do the basic task in feeding them. Every idiot would try and for some reason lean into the water ? And Vark was a territorial and possessive bastard (like him), of course no one came up alive.
But then, you happen. Out of nowhere, he was not sure who or how you got the task, but he could not complain. You were good, you respected his beloved pet and even liked it.
You knew boundaries and that was a first in hell.
And when he saw the developen between him and you?
First, Vox was jealous. Vark was his. Why was his beast of a shark giving you his soft side? And of course he rant about it to Vark who only ignored him till Vox gave up and said "Ok maybe they are not that bad"
It was scary how much Vox knew about you, and how he did his best to try and keep you only in his building.
Possessive bastard he was.
He would watch you over the various cameras, and well, learn. Would fall on his chair when you and Vark bonded. Would want (and later do it) to crush whatever sinner would come towards you with ill motives.
And try to keep you in late, because he liked to know you were around.
Even if the time you two crossed paths could be counted with one hand, Vox kept these in his memory and re played them.
Was he a hopeless and idiotic sinner with a crush? Yes. Did he care? No.
If Vark had claimed you as his, then by default you were also his.
---------------------
Another day came, you were pushing the cart with three bodys (one more since you were able to sneak it for Vark).
"Vark" you called and soon the big shark was at the top of the water. "Is time to eat! and guess what" you said in a low tone "i got you one more" this made Vark send waves towards you making you laught.
You throw the first sinner, being it catch middle air by Vark who splashed water once his full body went into the tank, but you were ready, opening the umbrella.
Then the second came, this time you did a show of dancing with the sinner till you were at the limit of the tank and dropped him.
Vark (who was swiming in circles below you while you danced) ate the sinner, his tail moving quicker, knowing todays there was an extra one.
Just as you turned to get the last one, you were suprised when a punch landed on your face. You fell out of suprise, and looked up to see the dam sinner who was supposed to be food, be on their feet.
Well fuck, someone did not tie up this one.
You quickly went to your feet once again, only for the sinner to get you back on the floor, and start to choke you.
"Fuck, i wont die as fish food, you parasite" the sinner said pressing his finger deeper.
You tried to get free, sensing Vark below you getting agitated.
"No- if you were dying again, then you were doing it on your own terms.
---------
Vox never run....only when a new about Alastor was said but that was case apart.
This ?
THIS WAS LIFE OR DEATH!!
He teleported from screen to screen, fuck the security he had, it prevented anyone with the ability to appear from air in any room.
He was enjoying watching you feed Vark, and enven got a laught from the little show you gave when dancing.
And then, things went south.
As much as he wanted to believe Vark would know you, he also knew that...Vark was his shark. A shark, who had ate others for less. So if you just happen to fall into the tank, there was not a full chance of you getting out alive.
Just as the door opened Vox saw it, his eyes and yours met for maybe the first time, and if Vox was not close to lose his mind, he would have swear he felt a dam spark between you both.
------------
Just before making eye contact with your Boss for the first time, and getting a sparky feeling, you gave a smile and pushed yourself and the dam sinner into the tank.
Oh, Vark would enjoy another food, right?
Now this sinner was persistent, they kept on chocking you, now more desesperated when they realized where they were. And when they tried to get back up ? You were the one keeping them down now, no way, no fucking way.
From the corner of your eye you saw a big shadow coming at fast speed, and with little force left, you pushed the sinner away to see in full display how Vark swimed past you and tore apart the sinner.
It was....a sight to be seen. There was nothing left, only a bit of blood that seemed to combine with the water itself, and be around Vark like it belonged to him.
Your consciousness started to drift away, as you saw Vark coming towards you, a small smile on your face. Because going being Vark's food was better than dying in a random sinners hand.
---------------
Vox waited, oh fuck he waited for something. For what? he was not sure. He saw the blood, and felt his non heart stop, did....did Vark.
But soon Vark's body showed up, and on top of him, you. Passed out but alive, and Vark carring you towards Vox like nothing.
Vox took you from him, getting a few sounds from Vark that were his way on making worried sounds.
Vox checked your vitals, you were still here.
Just not fucking breathing.
And so, Vox did what he expected no one would see. He kissed you, trying to get you to wake up and vomit the dam water, once, twice. He felt Vark below swiming like he was in distress.
And the third did the charm, you blinked, pushing him away and getting water out from you. Your chest hurt and so did your head, plus what was going on? Did not Vark...
Wait, and who kissed you?
"Yeah let it out, you almost died idiot" You hear a voice besides you and turned to see a blushing Vox.
Wait-
DID YOUR BOSS SAVE YOU ?
BY KISSING YOU ?
Well, it was not a kiss per se but-
Before you could pass out again, Vark rose up, splashing both with water. Vox teleported away so only you ended soaked...but Vark got closer so you would give him a pet, and like...he wanted to check on you.
"You....you saved me?" you asked suprised getting some waves back from Vark.
"Well, not only him" A pissed and still blushing Vox said being outside a random device now that Vark stopped splashing.
"Oh- yes, sorry Sir" You were going to get up and apologize properly but a sound from Vark tould you to stay up.
"Save it. It was....not your fault. The ones who prepare the dam sinners did a poor job" Vox responded looking away
"Uh....still thanks for getting me back"
Vox said nothing for a few moments "Yeah well, Vark likes you, so maybe you are not much of a waste of air" He said not wanting you to see just how much effect you had on him. Or the fact that he had kissed you...somehow, not a kiss. Not the kiss he wanted to give but close enough.
"We will need two peopel now in here" Vox said taking a seat besides you and watching Vark be....calm.
"Sir! i can handle myself, and Vark seems rather territorial and-"
"I know that!, I will be here while you feed him from now on"
You wanted to protest but honestly? what could you say? This was Vox from the Vs and your Boss.
"Oh...yeah, i doubt he will have a problem with it" You responded looking at the big shark who now felt like you were safe enough besides his owner and left to swim around.
"....You two seem close" Vox said cuting the silence.
"I like to think we are" you said back with a gentle smile, one that made Vox look away.
"You were lucky he did not eat you"
"I know"
"And it was stupid to fall into the tank with that sinner"
"Uh yes, but i would prefer to die by Vark than be killed by that dam sinner"
Vox gave you a look that screamed, you are crazy, but said nothing only smirked.
"I agree, dying by Vark's bite is way fancier than in the dirty hands of a low life"
You nodded, not really sure where the conversation would go from now on, or why was Vox here in the first place.
He was not watching you feed Vark....right?
"Get up, lets get you dry, you can clean his tank so he will not get too agitated" Vox said getting up and offering a hand.
"But- i cleaned it yesterday?"
Satan, could you be more stupid? Vox wanted you to be close to him and Vark just in case.
"Well, it got dirty again" was all he said before pulling you up to walk besides him.
"Wait!" You stopped and went near the tank again. "Vark! im fine, i will be back soon" you shouted getting waves back again. Then you ran back to Vox who did record that.
"Ready to go Boss"
"Vox, just Vox is fine"
---------
And what if Vark did call you his mother figure, and his owner his father figure ? Well, that was his shark sense and way to ship both of you.
Cw- M4F , F!reader , multiple characters , possible OOC (It’s been a while since I played the game so I’m going based of memory as a Levi girlie)
⋮ ⌗ ┆Authors note: hi I’m maybe back. I honestly just write when I feel like it which is almost never. Butt if this does good I’ll maybe post my old Kageyama fic I worked on in 8th grade. I honestly have a bunch of fics I wanna do it’s just I don’t have motivation soo ya. I hope u guys like this one tho if not I’ll go die idk
You never talked about your life back in the human world because well, nobody ever asked. And your life in devildom is also extremely busy that you can’t be bother to think about the human realm.
You and the brothers were sat in the dinner table, usual bickering from Mammon and Levi, scolding from Satan to Beel for eating from his plate, Belphegor on his shoulder almost knocked out, Asmodeus checking his social media, and Lucifer just observing it all. You were sat near Levi and Mammon and just listened to their ‘conversation’
“You used my Ruri-Chan money for gambling you fiend!” Levi barked at Mammon, waving his finger at him.
“I was just borrowing it! Don’t be a jackass about it Levi..” Mammon sighed as he scratched the back of his ear.
You perked up at Mammons response, wondering why it felt so familiar.
“Oh yeah that video me and my friends would reference..”
You mainly said that for yourself but Mammon had heard it and he, of course, didn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Friends? What friends? Who are you talkin ‘bout?”
The rest of the brothers immediately perked up at his words, glancing over at your side of the table.
You didn’t pay much attention to them and simply responded to Mammon
“Oh my friends back in the human realm is all. Just reminded me of them.”
That definitely got the brothers attention
Immediately you were bombarded with questions
“Huh?? You have friends in the human realm??”
“You didn’t even tell me-..I mean us this?”
“Mm? What?”
“Your friends in the human realm?”
“Wha! Why didn’t you talk about them ever?”
“…”
“…you guys never asked about my life in the human realm.”
Hi so um im back. I literally am so unmotivated to write and honestly im so busy with school that I don’t feel like writing 😭 Maybe I will post my old Kageyama x reader fic I worked on last yr but idk. Anyways here’s some Rin Itoshi pics from these few months
It’s officially kink-tober 🥹 Maybe I’ll post something tomorrow since I’m off school. I’ve been very busy and unmotivated so sorry guys! I will try to slowly write more when I have the time
Hi guys!! Sorry for being so inactive. No motivation and also school is so busy. I will be getting a laptop soon soo we’ll see about small fics soon. Anyways here’s some pics of me celebrating Rins birthday!!
Cw — M4F, F!reader, period mentions, overthinking Kenma, he only games and plays volleyball this boy has no idea what periods meant for women.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . ݁˖ . ݁ Authors note: so I was having breakfast and scrolling thru tumblr and saw a bunch of period posts. I’ve been in the mood of some Kenma content so I decided to make this lil post. I just thought that he would be horrible when dealing with his partners period. Jst thought it would be funny 8P
Kenma spends most of his time gaming and sleeping. The only time he actually decided to learn about something else was when Kuroo got him into volleyball. He never really cared for anything else. That was until he met you. You two were both so similar yet so different. You enjoyed interacting with others and didn’t spend much time playing videos games, however anytime you needed to recharge your social battery; you went straight to Kenma. You enjoyed watching him play his video games. Did you understand any of them? No, but it made his stoic face slightly more happy so you were happy.
One day you two were sat in your bedroom, he was on your bed playing on his phone while you were cleaning up some of the place. Just then you felt a pain in your stomach followed by a soft grumble. You winced slightly as you held your stomach.
‘It’s coming ‘
It’s already been a month since your last period so you knew it was going to happen sooner or later this week. While you were deep in your thought Kenma spoke up.
“Are you okay?”
He asked, glancing at you before looking back at his phone. He heard you wince and assumed you might have bumped into something. You sighed as you nodded softly, “yeah I guess. Ugh I really do not want to start my period..” Your words made him pause for a moment to process them. He felt a bit perplexed.
“…your period?”
He asked as he finished the level he was on and finally turned his attention towards you. You looked at him and responded. “Yeah, it’s the time of the month.” You noticed his confused expression. A moment of silence occurred until you spoke up again. “..Kenma you know what a period is right?” He looked at you for a moment before nodded slowly. “Yeah..yeah I know.” He muttered as he slowly turned his head back to his phone.
-
He said his goodbyes as he left your house and walked to his. Though he was playing games the entire walk there, the only thing on his mind was your words. What the heck was a period??
When he got home he laid on his bed, staring up at his ceiling before grabbing his laptop and opening up google.
What’s a period?
Do only girls get it?
Do they hurt?
How do I make it stop
My girlfriend has her period how do I stop it
Does it slowly kill her?
The next day he showed up to your house with a grocery bag and a few of his electronics. He told you that he looked up a couple stuff about periods. You softly laughed to yourself when he told you that he didn’t want you to get hurt by the period. You explained that basic knowledge of periods and he gave you his full attention.
“Well..I looked up what to give your girlfriend when she has her period so I got you um..a heating pad, these chocolates, and I bought the green tea you liked.” He said as he pulled out the stuff from the bag. The two of you headed up to your room where he set up all the things he bought and made sure you were comfortable in your bed. “I’m not ill, I could’ve done this myself”, You said as he sat next to you to play his games while you were tucked in with the heating pad and chocolate and green tea on your bedside table. He glanced at you before focusing back on his game. “I don’t want you to work yourself on your period, I don’t want you to hurt more.”
“..I wish we were seahorses so I could get you pregnant Kenma.”
Might do a Kenma fic, I’ve been missing my 2020 ‘husbando’
Also loving the support ppl have been showing on my first fic posted on here 🥹 I didn’t really know what I was doing for the ending and I didn’t want to end it in angst so I sloppily turned it into fluff
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origamiaround
dailybridgerton
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