tes :-)

but it’s better if you do 🎪🎠

[cultven]

Hey there, I'm Tes! I am a college student desperately trying to keep up with her favorite fandoms and classes simultaneously. I have been writing and publishing fan fiction since 2017, but I didn't get into Tumblr until recently! Most of my old fanfiction is unpublished, but I do have an AO3 account.

Requests are open!

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Lex Luthor Series Masterlist

[cultven]

Hi there, may I request a IASIP Charlie x Reader where they are in the beginning stages of their relationship and the reader sees Charlie’s hidden talents (could be him playing the keyboard or hitting a baseball while drunk) and the reader is so surprised vs The Gang brushing it off? Filled with fluff of course or wherever your creativity takes you :)

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year

Happy New Year to you too! I’m pretty drunk right now (since it’s new year’s eve) but I will fulfill your request shortly <3

[cultven]

Hi! Could you write an Vox x reader where when reader was alive she had like this huge passion for art and wanted to become an artist? She tried to hide it but sometimes she doodles on his paperwork as a habit, how would vox react to it? Would he make her a star in it as well?

Devil's Paintbrush | Vox X Reader

Wc: 0.9k

Soft humming fills Vox’s office as you doodle on the paperwork you were supposed to be filling out. How could you help it? It was just all so boring! Swirling around in your big chair and drawing whatever came to mind seemed like a much better pastime. In your life, you had been a painter. To make ends meet, you’d sit in Central Park and wait for people to commission live portraits from you. After some hard work, your reputation began to grow and blossom, but unfortunately, you became chronically ill and were unable to continue with your passion. The starving artist stereotype was no joke; it was your reality. As passionate as you were about your craft and how much praise you got for it, you had hospital bills you needed to pay and food you needed to buy. It wasn’t enough. 

You always wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t gotten sick. How much longer would you have been sitting in that park, breaking your back, hunched over canvas after canvas? Maybe you would have gotten better work, better commissions. Or perhaps you would’ve had to give it up regardless. That thought stung more than you’d like it to. Painting never felt like a job to you; it just felt right. But you’ll never know the answer to that, not in that lifetime. Besides, Hell has no room for street artists, so here you are at VoxTek. You’re lucky enough to be Vox’s very close assistant and well off. No more buying your meals with loose change and borrowed money.

Vox didn’t know about your little hobby, no one in Hell did. It didn’t matter anymore, that was another life. It was not like you were going to break out and be the painter in Hell you never got to be on Earth. It was better to bury those feelings rather than mull over what could’ve been. You were happy now, with Vox.

Unfortunately, lost in thought of the past, you didn’t realize how late it was becoming. Looking away from your newest masterpiece, you see you’ve managed to draw a beautiful portrait of Vark right in the middle of an important piece of paperwork. Well shit, this was not coming off. Panic began settling in your chest as Vox, with ever the amazing timing, struts into his office. 

“Oh, good, you’re working on that. I need to review some things.” Without fail, Vox is walking towards you, hand outstretched to see your progress. You couldn’t deny him, he was your boss after all. The last guy in your position who denied him likely lost their head in the process. With shaky hands, he takes the paper from you.

You watch as his eyes examine the paper, moving back and forth in a frenzy, “This is…” A lump was forming in the back of your throat, half out of embarrassment and half out of concern for your job. “Spectacular! Wow, you’ve really captured all his details!” Vox is holding the paper close to his face, then away, then at an angle. He takes in all the shading and shapes enthusiastically. You’ve never seen such a professional man fangirl over a picture of a shark.

“Aww, his little demonic eye here, and his scales are so detailed over there. I can’t believe you’ve captured the curve of his fins so perfectly! Where did you learn to do this?” His attention was now viciously on you, a stark contrast to the cooing he was just doing over your art. Your face flushes as you begin to stammer.

“It was something I used to do… in life.” You’re overwhelmed by Vox’s erratic behavior, but not unwelcoming to the feeling of happiness pooling in your chest. It’s been a very long time since someone has complimented your artwork, let alone seen any of it. 

You look up to see Vox admiring the paper once again, staring at it with adoration. “With this talent, I could make you a star, baby.” This statement was one of the most genuine promises you’ve heard from the television man. With your lack of a response, he peels his eyes away from the drawing and takes in your expression. It was a bit uncomfortable. You haven’t drawn publicly in decades; who knows if your art is even in style anymore. Besides, Hell is filled with such a diverse population of people from all places and times. The thought of putting your work on display is a tad nauseating. 

You must be wearing your heart on your sleeve because Vox follows up with, “Or, I could hire you. Not only as my secretary, but also as a commissioner. I wouldn’t mind having a few more pieces of Vark hanging up in here.” You share a shy smile.

“Thank you, Vox, that’s very sweet, but I should probably get back to work.” As you turn back to your desk, Vox’s hand rests upon your shoulder, causing you to stop short.

“Oh, c’mon! You've got real talent, babe.” He begins to stroke your shoulder. “How about just one piece, then we’ll take it from there? ‘Kay?” After some thought, you nod your head slowly. You were flattered that Vox liked your work so much, but now the pressure was on. 

“Oh, don’t look so worried, I’ve never seen someone in all of Hell with your talent, dear!”

[cultven]

OK OK SO HERE ME OUT what if you (reader or y/n) was mad/annoyed and vox and wanted to get back at him for something so the whole day they go around and mute him at random times (Ex. He’s in an important meeting and Reader just mutes him) you can decide the ending from there! I just thought it was a good idea lol

omg okay this one was so cute i had to

Revenge Tastes Best Mute | Vox X Wife! Reader

Wc: 1.8k (I got carried away with these "short" oneshots)

This was the third time Vox had forgotten a date night. 

The first time, he was apologetic, showing up at your shared doorstep when you woke up with flowers and a dump truck full of your favorite candy. If Vox was anything, he was a damn good apologist when he needed to be. Yet another skill he’s learned from serving the public for so long. But unlike those times, this was a genuine expression of regret. After being married for half a century, you can tell. After puppy dog eyes and a flurry of kisses, Mr. TV man was officially off the hook.

The second time, there was a choreographed number when you walked into the office the next morning, Vox being at the center of it with a bouquet of roses and your favorite coffee. He serenaded you with his singing, but the grand gesture didn’t work this time. Vox figured this would happen, knowing his beloved wife just as much as she knows him, and put plan B into action, lying on her lap and acting cute until she caved in. It took him two hours of loving compliments and cuddles before you broke. 

But this was the third time, and by God, you were pissed. You didn’t know what Vox would have waiting for you this time, but you didn’t want to see it. Perhaps a mariachi band would be waiting, or a mountain of new dresses handcrafted by Velvette, or maybe he’s just sitting there with his credit card resting between his sharp fingers, waiting for you to grab and abuse. But you swore that no matter what, you wouldn’t be so easy. To your shock, however, when you entered V Tower from your coffee run, there was nothing, only the usual chaos of the workday. It was odd, but you figured Vox would have something waiting for you in your office. Rolling your eyes, you step into the long elevator up.

You open the heavy doors and still, nothing. Had he still forgotten? You didn’t know if this made you sadder or angrier, likely both. That stupid husband of yours, too preoccupied with his social agenda of taking over Heaven to pay attention to his doting wife. Well, you’ll make sure he notices you today. 

You rummage around in your desk drawer before finding the small object you were looking for: Vox’s remote. You’re the only person he trusts to have one, and it’s very simple. It turns his volume up, down, mutes him, and turns him off completely. You’ll be having a field day with the mute feature today, especially knowing just how important a meeting he’s going to hold. But first, you gotta make sure these things' batteries still work. 

You exit your office in search of your insatiable husband and spot him degrading one of the lowly employees in the foyer. Now is better than ever. 

“And if I have to tell you that one more time, you fuc-” Vox’s mouth continues moving, but his speech is silent. The intern, once shaking in his boots, is now confused. Vox notices this small hiccup and his face blanches. Quickly, he searches his pockets for his personal remote to override the command. After doing so, he clears his throat. “Don’t let it happen again.” He grumbles and pivots on his feet away. On his trek, he spots you, his darling wife.

“Ah, my love!” You only nod in response, still ticked off at Vox. If he noticed your reaction, or lack thereof, he did not mention it and simply moved on, “I think I may need a rewiring soon. I had a glitch not too long ago.” Vox is straightening his suit, attempting to get things back in order. 

“Oh, really, I’m sorry, baby.” You say the pet name in an almost mocking way, but subtle enough that it only elicits a small eyebrow raise from your other half. “I have to go, though. Let me know if it happens again.” 

“Will do, dear.” Vox goes to scoop your waist up into a brief kiss, but you dodge his efforts, effectively leaving the frazzled man in the dust. It was always funny to tease your husband like this, especially when you know internally he’s questioning everything. But now that you know the batteries work, let the games begin. 

The next time you muted him, he was talking to a small group of reporters outside the tower about VoxTek. Again, he was hasty with the remote and unmuted himself flawlessly, promptly excusing himself from the rest of the press. Were you worried about tainting your husband’s image over a stupid prank? Perhaps if he didn’t run practically all the media in the underworld, but you knew his image could tank it. It was his ego that would not survive the day.

The time after that was with Velvette and Valentino. You were sitting in the corner, half-listening to Valentino trying to get the other two Vees on board with his shitty plan for expansion in the movie business. It was a bore, but you got a kick out of watching Vox flail for his remote after muting him once again. This time, his jacket was set aside on the couch, the same jacket with the remote inside. It was after he acquired it and unmuted himself yet again, and immediately cursing after, was when you concocted your great plan. 

It was mostly the same as before, mute Vox in his big meeting later, but you're adding the brilliant addition of hiding his personal remote from him. The thought of it makes you giggle. 

You watch as Vox discards his jacket behind him once again, not without sending you a quick wink, and turning back towards his partners. Slyly, your fingers reach into your beloved pocket to pick out the small device. Show time.

It didn’t take long for Vox to excuse himself for his big meeting. He beckoned you with him out of the room, and seeing as you had no reason to stick around, you complied to hang off his arm like an accessory. It was the least you could do as an advanced apology. 

“Good luck, my dear.” You give him a sickening smile, but Vox only laughs, occupied with reading over his plan. 

“Oh sweetie, I don’t need luck.” And with that, he’s in the glass room, voice booming over all the others. You were simply waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Should it be when he shows the grand graphic? Or maybe when he begins ranting about the numbers. No, it needs to be a low blow. 

“And with that, VoxTek is proven to be the most reliable! These other companies want to silence your voices, but here, voices are never sil-” Before Vox could finish his speech, his voicebox went quiet. The investors look among themselves, confused, as Vox’s lips continue to move, clearly not realizing what has happened yet. It doesn’t take long, however, for his face to drop in an expression akin to frustration and nervousness. His mouth opens with a presumed nervous chuckle as he frantically claws at his pocket to find his remote. 

You can tell the exact moment Vox realized he was fucked. He began sweating, eyes panicked. In his frenzy, he catches a glimpse of you looking into the glass office, face full of smugness. You slowly lifted the remote, the one that should have been in Vox’s pocket, and mouthed ‘Oops.” He was furious.

Electricity pours from his body as you simply smirk. Suddenly, Vox waves his hand, and a short message appears on the absurd number of screens in the room. 

VoxTek earnestly apologizes for the inconvenience. We will reconvene at your convenience. 

Then, he zaps away. 

You knew exactly where he had gone, to rage in his office and then ultimately sulk with his precious pet, crying about how you would be so mean to him. Instead, to your surprise you too were zapped into his office. 

Vox is already sitting in his chair, facing away from you. By his growl you can hear he’s unmuted once again. 

“Glad to see you got your voice back, dear.” You taunt. You were not scared of Vox, far from it. As angry as he gets you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, he never has and likely never will. In Hell you were the only person that’s ever been genuine with him, anything more than a simple business deal.

Vox turns, “Don’t spew that bullshit to me dearie. What the fuck was that in there today?” You only smile with that innocent look. “I think it’s reasonable to assume you’re the one who's been messing with my volume all day.” 

You only shrug and to your lack of a response Vox leans forward. “Darling, you’ve just humiliated me in front of a panel of future investors. I’ve killed sinners for substantially less. Remember that intern that creased my coat?” 

“Well, thankfully I'm not an intern, I’m your wife.” You’re now sitting comfortably with your legs crossed. It was too easy to get under his skin sometimes.

“You make an annoyingly fair point.” Vox grits his teeth. “But why, dear? What could you possibly gain from sabotaging me? Is torturing your husband one of those trends on HellsTube Velvette told you about?” You scoff, suddenly remembering the reason for these outbursts, the victory no longer tasting so sweet. 

“You still don’t remember. I can’t believe it.”

Vox only looked confused, “Remember what?”

You sigh, defeated. “Our date night. This was the third one you’ve forgotten about, Vox.” Immediately, you could tell the alarms in Vox’s head were going off. 

He frantically pulls up his calendar and scrolls, “What? No, dear I check my calendar at least three times a day, there’s always something happening here and there. But that would’ve been highlighted on my list.” Vox rambles on as you sit, now staring at the shark swimming happily in his tank. 

“It’s fine, just think of today as payback. We have all the time in Hell for more.” Although your words were true, you still couldn’t help but sound a bit dejected in your speech. 

“Did we have dinner planned for next Thursday?” Vox suddenly asks. 

“What? No, it was last Thursday, at 8pm.”

“No, my calendar says next Thursday, 8pm, Zozo’s Palace. I have the reservation and everything right here.” You peer over Vox’s shoulder and your face pales. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips as he only looks at you with a bored expression. 

“Haha, oops?”

[cultven]

thank you for all the requests! working on them now xx trying to get to as many as i can

[cultven]

guys, please give short hazbin x reader requests, im itching to write but hate all of the plots i can think of so far ;(

vox x reader is mostly welcome but ill write for anyone!!

also keep it minimal w the smut pls

[cultven]

he’s like an ex i can’t stop thinking about

[cultven]

drunk and all i can do is mourn season 2 vox because even though he’s still with us, it will never be the same </3

[cultven]

God Loves His Children| Cult Leader! Vox x Reader

Summary: You reunite.

Part 1

WC: 2.7k

Vox’s following was still quaint when he first met you. One of your friends had joined his religious movement and convinced you to check the place out. Visitors weren’t unwelcome, but rather encouraged by Vox’s approval. The more indoctrinated, the more power he possessed.

Before your friend brought you into his sanctuary, Vox didn’t think a person in your position could be so imposing. You were brilliant yet deliciously naive. His sweet flower, he could pick petals from and water at will. You were perfect. Your sweet little eyes fluttered at Vox as you waited for him to begin his welcome sermon. You were already looking at him as if he were a God, and it got him going. 

From that day forward, Vox knew he couldn’t let you go. It wasn’t for the power as per usual, but something more. He brushed it off as lust. You were a young and beautiful thing; of course he would be attracted to you physically. Your soft smiles, paired with the glint in your eye whenever Vox spoke directly to you, fed his soul for days. He enjoyed lingering close, but not too close. He was a figure of great power after all. Vox couldn’t afford to play favorites when he was supposed to love all his children equally. 

But in his mind, you were always his little lamb, 

It wasn’t until he knew death was approaching that he realized in life he was in love with you. There was no lust involved, but rather soft and innocent adoration. The thought of him, the powerful man he was, being in love nauseated him, but he knew it was true. He knew by the way he craved for your presence after waking up in Hell. The way he wished he had said more to you before the sacrifice.The way he felt bad about slitting your throat so haphazardly, wanting your passing to be as elegant and perfect as you were. 

These thoughts were all in vain now, however. You were both dead and, presumably, worlds apart. It made sense that Vox landed in Hell; he would never pretend to be shocked by this fact. But you were you. Sweet, innocent you. If you had suffered the same fate he had received, then he knew the rules of the afterlife were bullshit. Sure, you were a part of his cult, but should someone suffer an eternity of pain and anguish for something they didn’t even realize was wrong?

Vox brushed himself off and made peace with the thought you were in Heaven, like you deserved. It took Vox years to realize this was not the case. 

His empire was in the process of being built. Becoming a powerful being in Hell from the ground up was admittedly more work than Vox would have liked, but one of his best traits was networking and knowing how to use people to his advantage. He created a team, the Vees, and was putting his new TV head, albeit strange, to work. His experiences as a cult leader certainly helped him with these feats. It was only a matter of time before he expanded across all of Hell. 

Vox didn’t often think of his past life. The sermons, the chants, the robes, all a distant memory far smaller than what he’s achieved in Hell. But there was one thing, one person, he did think about; his lamb. It’ll happen when he’s sitting at his desk, darkness pooling outside where the sinners sleep. When the buzz of his popularity and work dies down and his mind can finally be at peace. That’s when the images of you appear. The longing returns. The only person he’s ever cared for. He’s never cried over it, but he’s come close. But he always picks himself up. Sadness doesn’t look good on television; it makes viewers depressed. That’s not Vox’s brand. No, he’s the charismatic television host who never fails to deliver news with poise and enthusiasm. 

Before he knew it, it was that time of the night again to go on air. He was currently in a viewership battle with the Radio Demon, Alastor. Vox regrettably understands the appeal of his opponent, which is what makes it all the more difficult. He was a damn good radio host, powerful too. Vox was still climbing up the ladder of power and social status. Everything needed to be perfect, which it wasn’t. 

“What the fuck is this? This is terrible! Am I seriously paying you guys to sit on your asses all day and write bullshit no one is going to buy?” Vox could feel the static erupting from his systems as he yelled at some poor interns who wrote his current script. It seemed all the good journalists went to heaven, which is surprising since the entire industry is based on fabrication. 

One of the interns dared to speak, “We’re sorry, sir, it’s just it’s been a slow news day and-” Vox grabbed the intern by the hair. 

“I don’t want excuses.” His grip tightened, the intern writhing in pain. “I want a good fucking story. Now go and get me a new, good script within the next hour, or you are dead.” Furious nods follow Vox’s request as the two interns scamper out the door.

Vox only sighs and walks towards the window, looking down at the streets of Hell. A rerun of one of his past broadcasts is playing, and he watches as viewers are drawn towards the TVs lining the streets. It always brings him pleasure seeing how easily he can influence others. While admiring the crowd, he notices something, rather someone, standing there. 

It makes his mechanical heart jolt for a second. It was a lamb demon, with soft ears and a tail. It wasn’t just any lamb demon; no, he was sure it was his lamb demon. Although you were now morphed just as he was, as the rest of the sinners were, you still had the same soft facial features, the same hair. It was undoubtedly you. Upon this realization, the lights in his office go out due to a power surge. When Vox’s interns enter the room again, they find his room to have no lights and no Vox. 

He had used his powers to quickly move through the various Vox Security cameras and zap right behind you. He could tell you heard by the way your sensitive ear twitched. Vox watched you turn slowly. By the look on your face, he could already tell you knew who he was. 

“Leader…” Vox heard you whisper, your lamb-like eyes widening. You didn’t reach out to him, respecting the roles between leader and follower from your past life. He wishes you had. Lord knows he wants to. 

Vox settles for an open hand extending out to you, a gesture you slowly return—half out of hesitance, half out of shock. “Come with me.” You nod, and he takes this as a sign to take you through the electricity currents with him, back to his office. Once settled on your feet, Vox takes in your figure, and you do the same.

He thought you’d be put off by the television for a head. It is a pretty shocking feature of his, considering you knew what his human form had looked like. But to his pleasure, you were gazing at him with the same fondness you always have. Eyes travelling down, he noticed you were still wearing the rosary he had gifted you before your premature death, although a bit altered. A sharp smirk formed on his face. 

He could tell you wanted to speak, but was waiting for permission. Ever the obedient lamb. He nodded you on, “I can’t believe I found you again. I was sure you were in Heaven, Leader.” The thought that you still had so much faith in him made his hardware heat up. You continue, “I thought I would never see you again. The ritual was interrupted so I was sent here without your guidance. I was so scared.” Vox watches with a frown as your head falls.

Without much thought, for the first time in his career as a holy figure, Vox embraces you. It earns a squeak out of you, a noise Vox thought was oddly adorable. “It’s okay, my little lamb. I am here for you now.” He pulls away, the heat from your skin lingering on his. “I have a plan to get to Heaven. For us to be there.” 

To this, you smile, staring at him with the same hope he had grown accustomed to on Earth. With all the followers he’s had on Earth and in Hell, you are certainly still his favorite. 

“Tonight we will go out, as a celebration! I will have one of my accomplices make you an elegant gown.” You deserved something special for being so loyal for so long. You simply nodded with gratitude, thrilled for the night to come.

—

Unfortunately, Vox still had work to attend to, much to his dismay, so that left you alone in the V-tower. Vox was sure to set you up in the most lavish guest room, en-suite bathroom and the silkiest sheets included. You felt like a princess being so pampered. A lowly follower such as yourself didn’t need such luxuries; however, you were simply glad to be basking in the presence of Vox once more. So, you put your free time to good use. You preened and pampered yourself into looking the best you could for him. 

The dress he had dropped off was absolutely stunning. He told you he had it specially made, which only flattered you further. You were supposed to serve him, not the other way around. But you couldn’t complain after seeing how the fabric hugged each curve on your body, the color perfectly complementing your demonic hair and skin. Whoever made this must’ve been a true professional. You’ll have to send your compliments. 

As you finish tidying up, there's a short knock at the door. You open it and peer outside, a small imp standing there. “Mr Vox is awaiting your presence in the limo outside.”

“Oh! I will be out right away.” He nods and leaves as you quickly grab the purse that was gifted to you and, gracefully but quickly, make your way to the limo. Vox is standing outside the vehicle, scrolling on his phone, until he notices you approaching. He fixes his already perfect posture and dusts off a bit of his jacket that has nothing on it. Without a word, he opens the car door for you and gestures for you to get inside. Sure, he had men to do this for him, but he wants the gesture to come from him. 

Once Vox gets in, he begins to speak, “Velvette has done a wonderful job at designing your dress this evening. The color is rather appealing on you.” You didn’t expect such a forward compliment, causing you to giggle. Your Leader was always so kind and caring. 

“Velvette?” You question, not familiar with the name. 

“Yes, one of my closest accomplices. I’m sure you two will meet in the future. I will warn you, however, she is a bit feisty.” Vox adjusts his cuff links. He’s put a lot of effort into looking good tonight, but this came as no surprise, as he always strived to look his best back in your life as well. “I may have to keep you away from Val, however. He harasses anyone with a pulse, and even that is not a strict requirement.” Vox scoffs. 

Before you knew it, you had arrived at the restaurant. It was a tall, cathedral-esque building. Stained glass windows lined the walls. You hadn’t set foot in such a place since being back on Earth, back at Vox’s sanctuary. Perhaps that’s why he chose this place, for a familiar feel. The car is chauffeured away, and in an instant, you and Vox are being led to the exclusive part of the building. 

The tables you pass sneer at you. They watch with envy and hunger, eyes focused on you. It scares you almost until you remember that, despite their malicious glares, you know they are unable to approach you. Because Vox was here, your Leader. This was the moment that made you realize how glad you were to be back with your protector, always knowing he would find you one day. His power was unmatched, an idea that is reinforced by the waiter bowing to Vox in recognition as you go to sit.

“This place is beautiful…” You state in awe. Typically, you were not one to speak first to your Leader, allowing him to call the shots, but you couldn’t help but be appreciative for what he’s done for you this evening. 

Vox only chuckles before stating, “Only the best for my little lamb. You’ve always been such a devoted darling to me.” His sharp claws pick up the wine glass that had just been filled, swirling around the liquid inside. “This place, Hell, is merely a detour to what’s to come. Soon, I will be able to award you more than this. For your loyalty.”

“What more could I possibly want, Leader?” You were satisfied with what he had given you. A life of purpose and unwithering love in the form of family and religion. All you could wish for in the afterlife was to have your beloved Leader back, and that was a prayer you received.

“How pure. This is only the beginning, and divine ascension is the goal.” Vox’s hand rests on top of yours, sharp hands feeling like the softest material in the world. “I have a plan, I have power. I was once a God, and I promise to become one again.” The look in Vox’s eyes was maniacal, but you couldn't look away. In your eyes, he was still just as holy as ever. 

Vox’s hand moves away from yours, an action that displeases you, and grabs his glass. “A toast, for our future and the future of Hell.” Gingerly, you pick up your glass and clink it against his, taking a small sip. A sacramental wine.

It doesn’t take long until the food arrives. As the waiters place down the cutlery, you notice your reflections are slightly off; yours looking light and angelic while Vox’s appears darker. His screen was morphed, and wires were jolting out the sides. You couldn’t look away, eyes glued to the picture. Vox notices this, firmly grabbing your face to stare at him. His face was no longer light, expression stern. “Don’t look at the shadows, dear. They lie.” His voice was void of emotion.

You simply nod, “I only look at you.” Vox seems pleased by this answer and releases you. Looking down, you are presented with what seems to be a lamb chop. It sends a shiver down your spine. It feels odd, considering your new form. The slab of meat was almost nauseating to look at. It felt personal. However, Vox didn’t seem concerned about this. 

“Open your mouth.” You look up from the meal and in his direction. He was staring right at you, gaze piercing your soul. 

“Of course.” Who were you to deny your God? When faced with personal grievances and religion, you must choose your decisions with faith. That was what you were taught, after all.

You felt the cold twines of the fork press against your lips before hesitantly opening your mouth and taking a bite. The meat itself was cooked to perfection, the seasoning incredible, but you couldn’t help the bile making its way up the back of your throat. You swallow it down forcefully. Appeasing your God is above all else.

“Good, still obedient.” Vox hums from across the table as you focus on the nausea beginning to pool.

“Of course, Leader. You haven’t changed.” You’re now looking in his eyes again.

“Oh, I have my dear.” He takes your hand and presses it to his lips, a gesture both devotional and intimate. “I’m greater now than I ever have been. But I saved the familiar parts just for you.” You bask in the praise. Little did you know, someone else was taking in this display as well. 

“Hm, very interesting.” The shadow’s smile widens before disappearing into the dark of the night.

Tags: @barbra-annbunny @themagpiewitchescorner

Part 3 coming!

[cultven]

beggggggggging for more of little lamb and vox I’ve been checking your profile daily you write him so well

Posting another part tonight! I'm trying to stay off social media since I haven't watched the finale, but once I do, trust me, you're getting more content.

[vapourl]

"so anticlimactic! "

[cultven]

I llove evil cult leader vox and his little clueless devoted lamb 🥺🥺🥺

<3 more will be coming

[cultven]

His Little Lamb | Cult Leader! Vox x Reader

Summary: As one of Vox's most dedicated and enthusiastic followers, you're thrilled to find a letter stuck on your door from him in the early morning.

"Wear your best attire today. I have a feeling I will be off soon, and I always save the best for last. Your time has come, my little lamb."

OR

You're Vox's final sacrificial lamb before he gets caught.

WC: 2.8k

Part 2

You were Vox’s prized follower, that much he had made known. This was thrilling for you, as he was your God. The other followers would whisper while you passed in the halls, their eyes trying to pierce through your skull and figure out what made you so desirable. But you never paid any mind to such things; you were God’s favorite. Every sermon, you showed up bright-eyed and eager, never less than 15 minutes early and in the front row. You never questioned Vox’s word and always kept true to your religious beliefs. You would do anything to appease Vox, no matter the nature of the request.

Your leader always outwardly appreciated your efforts and made you feel like family. When you arrived early, you’d always receive that wide and charismatic smile of his. “I’m so glad you’re joining us today.” When you were feeling ashamed and confessed to Vox, he never once made you feel less than.

He understood you.

He made you feel special.

He would tell you what kind of clothes he thinks would be flattering for you, and you would instantly go out and purchase them just to see the satisfied look on his face.

He would tell you who was bad and who was good. What family members were to be trusted, and who to cut off after they attempted to get you to leave him. To leave your family.

He always made sure to tell you how you looked that day. Whether it was acceptable, and if it wasn’t, then he would give tips on what to change. But no matter the attire that day, good or bad, he always made a point to compliment your eyes. Large and lamb-like, he would call them. It made your heart swell.

There was a day when you awoke to a letter taped on the door of your quaint quarters. Your body buzzed when you saw who it was from: Vox. Smiling uncontrollably, you giddily began reading the letter.

Wear your best attire today. I have a feeling I will be off soon, and I always save the best for last. Your time has come, my little lamb.

If the other words hadn’t held so much weight, you would have only focused on the detail he called you his little lamb. But you knew what this letter entailed. It would be you sacrificed tonight at the altar. You weren’t scared; you couldn’t be. This was an inevitable end to your beautiful time spent as Vox’s follower. It was a necessary sacrifice in order to be truly free from this world and live an afterlife of pure bliss. You trusted Vox’s word. You knew he would never harm you. You were his best.

The sacrifice was not the alarming part of the letter, but rather the fact that Vox states he will be off soon. Off to where? He cannot leave you. Wherever he goes, you will follow; he should know that. In a stroke of courage, you decide that after you doll yourself up, you will request to see Vox in his study. You needed to know.

After an array of preening tasks, you scurry out of your room and along the path to Vox’s study. Upon arriving, your knuckles rasp the door politely.

“Who is it?” Even when muffled, you savored every syllable that rolled off his tongue. You state your name back to Vox, and after a swift pause, you hear, “You may enter.”

You have been in Vox’s study a handful of times. Sometimes, per his request, other times you arrived with a personal issue. But the one thing that never changed was his gaze that focused on you from the very second you entered the room. You felt it now as you nestled into the leather chair across his desk, after gaining permission to sit, of course.

“I will assume this is about the letter I sent you earlier today, yes?” You nodded your head to his question. Words spoken in the presence of God should be limited and carefully considered. “I thought you would have some questions about the sacrifice. You’re not scared, are you?”

To this accusation, you swiftly reply, “Not at all, Leader. I know you will lead me to eternal peace.” Vox seemed pleased with this answer, leaning back in his chair ever so slightly.

“Then what troubles you, my child?”

You were hesitant, but when Vox asked a question, you always answered honestly. “I was wondering what you meant about you being off soon?”

Vox was now visibly less pleased. His demeanor dropped, but only for the smallest second. This scared you. “Ah, yes.” He began, straightening his back and clearing his throat. Keep this a secret, my lamb, but some people aren’t exactly fond of our religion. They are going to get the cops involved and unfairly attempt to shut us down. Shut me down. I plan to leave here by sunrise tomorrow.”

This sent you into a panic, “But Leader, our people need you. We’re not doing anything wrong; they cannot just come here and tell you to leave.” You wished you could raise your voice, but that was never acceptable in his presence.

Vox sighs, “They will do more than just politely ask me to leave.” He looks off, just past you now. You frown at the lack of attention from him. “I want to spare you from that fate, if anything were to go wrong then. You will be my last sacrifice here. My perfect follower.” Suddenly, Vox abandons his leather chair and walks around the desk to lean against it across from you. His hand, ever so gracefully, reaches to caress the side of your face. You would be lying if you said it didn’t give you butterflies in your stomach. You used to tell yourself he treated all of his followers with such love and warmth, but sometimes you were selfish enough to tell yourself otherwise. That you were special, and maybe after today, you can start to believe this.

All too soon, his warm fingers fell from your face. Vox began speaking again, “Also, I have a gift for you, my lamb.” He stalks over to one of his shelves, where he takes in his hands a small box with a tiny red and blue bow adorning the top. Gingerly, he presents it to you.

Hesitantly, you reach out to grab it. Vox nods his head, edging you into taking it. As you carefully unravel its wrapping, you see something sparkle. You gasp when you see what was inside. Beautiful wouldn’t be anywhere close to describing the rosary you held in your hand. It was a beautiful silver chain with sapphire crystals going down and meeting at the bottom in a sparkling blue cross. You felt tears beginning to well up. This was the kindest gift you have received in your life, and by Vox of all people. Your bold and brilliant Leader.

Vox extends his hand, waiting for you to place the piece of jewelry in his hands. You obey, as always, and watch as he circles you and is now staring at you from the back. As his hands lace the necklace around your neck, he begins, “I’ve decided I want you to wear this tonight at the sacrifice. I think it would look marvelous on you, dear.”

As much as you adored the necklace, you were unsure. “At the sacrifices, you told us that we’re to wear nothing but the appointed white gown.”

Vox chuckled and shook his head. “Ever the obedient follower, that is why you’re my favorite. But yes, wear the necklace. You’re greater than those who we have already released to the afterlife, and this rosary will show those in the sky that very fact. It will help guide you to the eternal peace I have promised you.” His look was so sincere, so earnest. You were comforted that he allowed you such an honor. You smiled back brightly and nodded. “Besides, you wouldn’t decline a gift from God, would you?”

“I understand now, Leader.”

“Good. Now run along and do your duties for the day. I will see you at supper.”

The evening came and went. You were allowed a seat at the right hand of Vox tonight at dinner, something no one has ever been granted. No one but you. Vox scooped hearty servings of roasted lamb, bitter herbs, and bread onto your plate. He poured rich red wine into your glass with grace. For the first time since following Vox, he was serving you. You felt the envious stares of your peers, but that didn’t matter, for this was a moment shared between you and your God.

It was nearing the time of your ultimate demise. You were dressed in the ivory-white gown, a replica of the dresses those before you had worn. No shoes, no undergarments, just you and the white cloth. As your feet padded towards the worship hall, you found that only Vox was in the room so far, beginning the preparations for the evening. This was what you had hoped for.

“Leader.” Your voice pierced the silence like a dagger. Vox turns to you. He was not hasty about it, but collected. He likely heard you come in.

“Yes, my lamb?” The nickname made you shiver, despite having been called that a handful of times now.

“Could you help me put on the rosary?”

A nod, then a smile, then, “Of course.” His hand ushered you over. You calmly stood in front of him, your back to his chest. Vox extended his palm where you heedfully placed the necklace. Your fingertips brushed his palm, but only for a second. In any other scenario, you would have chastised yourself, then been shunned by Vox for touching his divinity. But no further words were spoken as the spark of your touch left just as quickly as it had come. You both understood this moment required no further conversation.

As the chain was dragged around your neck, Vox’s fingertips ever so gracefully dragged across your skin. It sent a shiver down your spine and caused goosebumps to prick your arms. You would have been ashamed if you had known any better.

After clasping the hook, Vox gently took your shoulders and turned you around. His eyes took in all of you, and for a moment, his caricature of God had crumbled. What a dazzling little thing you were. It was a shame the cops were onto him. He wished he could take you with him, relish in your unrelenting admiration forever, but that was simply not meant for this lifetime. Perhaps in another universe, you could have been together under normal circumstances. But these thoughts were rapidly becoming too domestic for Vox’s taste.

“Prepare.” Was all Vox whispered, before guiding you in the direction of the door, his hand on the small of your back. Ever the obedient lamb, you nodded and began to count the minutes to your ascension.

It wasn’t long before Vox began greeting his followers as they filed into the hall for one last sermon. They were not aware that this would be the last, as you were the only one Vox had notified about his departure. Once settled, Vox began his sermon.

“My children. Today, we bring forth another sacrifice to the universe and all that is holy. Our beloved peer,” Vox said your name so warmly it lit a flame in your stomach. “She has followed me since I began my celestial visions, and has stuck by my side since. Because of this, she is now worthy of ascending to the afterlife I have promised all of you. One of peace and warmth. The utmost joy a being could experience.” Vox then spoke your name again, words dripping with fondness. His hand reached out to you, to which you reciprocated. His skin was soft against yours, and you didn’t think life could get higher than this.

“An offering to the afterlife. Our sacrificial lamb.” And thus began the ritual. Vox grabbed a jagged dagger from a clothed table and motioned you to come close. You were turned away from Vox now, and his left hand came to rest on your forehead, pulling your head back ever so slightly. Your neck felt exposed, just as intended. His right hand held the dagger firm, but not maliciously. This was not an aggressive act, after all.

You felt odd at this moment. You felt like you should be scared, terrified even, but how could you? While Vox held the knife up to your throat, your mind was clear. He held a soft look on his face, guiding and comforting you into the embrace of eternal sleep. You were about to die by the hand of God, a luxury in itself.

Close to your ear, Vox takes a small breath, preparing himself for the final speech. Before he could speak, however, you heard a large bang followed by yelling.

“This is the police! Nobody move, stay where you are!” You hear Vox’s breath ever so slightly hitch before cursing quietly. It wasn’t supposed to be now. He was supposed to still have more time.

Before anyone could react, the door to the worship hall was kicked open by half a dozen officers, pistols ablaze. You feel the grip Vox has on you tighten, before a final whisper, “Goodnight, my dear.”

Blood sprays about, the slit Vox had made was clumsy and quick, less precise than the ones he’s made in the past. You feel him drop you, as carefully as he could, while still running from the police. Through the gurgling of you choking on your own blood, gunshots ring out in the room. Your peers were all hastily leaving the scene, presumably back to their quarters. You watched as Vox flailed around, pathetically attempting to leave with him. You wish you could reach out, be of some assistance, but all you could do was lie there and die. What a terrible thing.

The choking was becoming unbearable; your lungs felt as if they were on fire, desperate for any sort of semblance of air. You gasped and sputtered as you watched the cops finally corner Vox. It only took one gunshot straight through the head to neutralize him. You didn’t hear the gunshot itself, only the sound of shattering glass from the TV right behind his head, caught in the crossfire.

To this sight, you managed a single tear down your cheek before closing your eyes for the final time.

–

The afterlife was not what you had expected. You woke up in what you could only assume was Hell. You blamed this on the fact that your ceremony was so terribly interrupted, still blindly believing Vox would never lie to you.

It was humid and gross in this place. Constant violence and terror. It was a miracle you made it through your first night. You arrived in Hell inconsolable. You had just watched your beloved leader die at the hands of men who didn’t understand who he was, what he meant.

Walking with hooves was also a challenge. Your physical appearance had changed into something only semi-human. Your upper half was relatively the same, minus the lamb ears and nose you now acquired. Your lower half was now the legs of a lamb, hooves and all, and topped off with a small tail. A sting took over your neck, and when you raised your fingers to soothe the ache, you found a puckered, raised scar lining your throat.

As you process this, you hear a cat call from your side. “Hey, baby, looking good.” The disgusting imp winked at you as it kept trotting on its path. You look down to realize you were still wearing your blood-stained gown, you were sacrificed in, along with the necklace your beloved had gifted you, granted the cross appeared to now be upside down. Tears begin to build when you realize that, without Vox, you were completely hopeless. You had no guidance, no one to tell you what to do or think. Finding another leader was not an option, never was.

From that moment, you dedicated your time in hell to one thing: finding Vox. As long as you lay low and didn’t find yourself in trouble, you were sure to find him; you knew it.

It took two years before you passed a TV on the way to the store. There was a man on it, pinstripe suit with a television for a head. He drew you in immediately, gluing you to the screen. You hadn’t felt so drawn to a person since him.

It was only when he spoke that you realized that it was him. Your leader. Your God. Your “Vox…”

[cultven]

just realized the reason i despise texting and get mad every time i do so is because i cannot read emotion over text for the life of me, so i immediately assume every text i get is sent with passive aggression and hate… but i also hate the idea of asking my family/friends/boyf for tone tags so where does that leave me

[cultven]

in honor of it being September 30th i WILL be reading leon kennedy smut in my lecture

[cultven]

won the mcr ticketmaster war again, sending a prayer to my fallen soldiers

[cultven]

sorry for a lack of everything, i am anxiety-maxxing in college rn