It just occurred to me that Lucifer is a trophy husband 😭. He does nothing all day but dress up and look pretty while his successful wife runs a kingdom.
I'm such a sucker for the classic "kissing someone to shock/pull them out of whatever mental state they're stuck in before they go too far" and I feel like Lucifer's tendancy to become blinded by his wrath would be prime for this with reader 😩😩 especially if it puts you at risk of danger yourself, but you take that chance anyway because you want to save him from doing something he'll regret and this is the first thing that comes to mind in the heat of the moment.
Having Lucifer restrained to the bed, but he's staring you down the entire time. He's confined, but comfortable.
The angelic cuffs keep him still at the headboard of the royal bed. Horns erupt. Wings expanded. Smirk sharp. Focused amber eyes drowning in scarlet. Spade tail elongated. Flames bright between his horns and from his mouth as he praises and grunts and moans at your actions. All with his deadly demeanor of pride perfectly in tact.
He ogles at his partner above him. Unbuttoning his clothing, painting kisses on his skin, scratching your nails ever so gently as you ventured downward, gave acute attention to his member, and rode him with the passion you possessed. Looking down at him, as if he were the prey that was captured.
Without his hands, he can only use his prehensile tail to brush your hair away, to tease your clit and breasts, to grasp at your waist to move how he likes when you straddle him. Until you 'punish' his actions by holding the appendage still in your hands, berating him for his actions while kissing the spaded tip. Keeping eye contact the entire time.
You're acting cocky. You have power at this very moment. You have the Devil under your thumb, at your mercy, for now only because he allows it. The second the cuffs are off, vengeance will be sinfully dealt with and he will savor every second of it. Until then, he'll let you ride your high and him for as long as you can before he takes over and secures what he’s owed.
Pour one out for all the food that ended up getting burnt because Lucifer walked into the kitchen while you were cooking and caught you shaking your ass in some little shorts and had to immediately pick you up and pin you to the counter about it~
Hi there!! I'm just a fellow Vox kinnie that wants to thank you for your service (づ￣ °￣)づ✨ the Game Over fic is so good. Thank you sm for feeding us lol 🩵
AWWW 😭
I'm so happy you're enjoying Game Over! It makes me so happy knowing people are having fun with it—and honestly, writing Vox is an absolute blast. He's such a chaotic, dramatic disaster of a man, and I love every second of putting him through emotional damage (and making him cause it too).
Thank you so much for reading and for stopping by to leave such a sweet message 🥹✨ It genuinely means a lot.
The first rays of crimson filtered through the towering windows, painting long streaks of light across the bedroom. Pentagram City was already awake below, advertisements flashing across skyscrapers and VoxTek billboards humming to life.
Inside the room, however, everything was still.
Vox lay on his side, one arm tucked beneath his head as he watched you sleep beside him.
His expression was unusually grim.
Slowly, almost absentmindedly, his claw-like fingers drifted through your hair, separating the soft strands before letting them slip between his fingertips. He gathered a loose lock, idly twisting it around one finger as though the repetitive motion might quiet the thoughts racing through his head.
You hadn't stirred once.
Your breathing remained slow and even, your face far softer than the one you wore during meetings or negotiations. Vox frowned.
This was ridiculous.
The bed was comfortable. That was all. That had to be the reason he hadn't moved yet. Satisfied with that thoroughly believable explanation, Vox glanced toward the clock on the nightstand.
His screen immediately dimmed.
Shit.
He had meetings. Two investor calls. A product review.
Roughly two hundred emails that would somehow multiply into four hundred if he ignored them much longer.
He was the CEO of VoxTek. He could not spend his mornings lying in bed.
A quiet sigh escaped him.
Reluctantly, Vox slipped his hand from your hair, careful not to wake you as he eased himself toward the edge of the mattress. Even then, he paused for a moment, as though waiting to see if you'd stir.
You didn't.
Good.
That was... good.
He stood, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders before collecting the clothes scattered across the floor. Piece by piece, he dressed himself with his wires in practiced silence, straightening his coat, adjusting his tie, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the expensive fabric.
The familiar routine helped. It reminded him who he was.
Once he was fully dressed, he reached for the bedroom door. His hand settled on the handle. He should leave.
Instead...
He looked back. Just once. Vox lingered for only a heartbeat. Then he clicked his tongue quietly. "...Trouble."
Whether he meant you...
Or himself...
Even he wasn't entirely sure. With that, he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him as softly as he could.
The warmth on the other side of the bed had already faded by the time you woke.
You blinked blearily at the empty space beside you, your mind still sluggish from sleep. A quiet huff escaped your lips. Of course he'd left.
What had you expected? A good morning? A sticky note saying: Had to run the company. See you later?
You buried your face back into the pillow for a moment, letting out a long, muffled groan.
Then you forced yourself upright. The room spun slightly before settling as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. You gathered your clothes from the floor and dressed in silence, your mind slowly catching up with reality.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. You squeezed your eyes shut. "Why the fuck did I sleep with Vox?"
Of all the terrible decisions you could have made...Vox?!
You dragged both hands down your face with a groan. "This is so stupid."
It wasn't as though you were desperate. If you wanted company, you had options. Plenty of them. A single phone call, one message, and there'd be no shortage of demons eager to spend the night with you. Casual flings had never been difficult to find in Hell.
You paced the room, trying to think.
No. Don't panic. Panicking never solved anything.
You took a deep breath. Let's be rational. It wasn't that big of a deal.
It wasn't as though the two of you had suddenly become...fuck buddies. The very phrase made you cringe.
There was no reason it had to happen again. In fact, considering the two of you spent more time arguing than agreeing on literally anything, the odds of repeating it were practically nonexistent.
You nodded to yourself.
Yes. Exactly. It had been one night. An isolated incident.
You were both adults. You'd go back to insulting each other.
He'd annoy you. You'd threaten him. Everything would return to normal. Easy.
Something moved in your peripheral vision. You frowned and slowly turned around. Only then did you properly notice the enormous aquarium built into the far wall of Vox's bedroom.
You vaguely remembered seeing it last night.
The tank stretched almost from floor to ceiling, easily spanning the entire width of the wall. Crystal-clear water shimmered beneath concealed lighting, casting wavering blue reflections across the polished floor.
You found yourself stepping closer. "...What the hell?"
Something enormous emerged from the depths of the aquarium.
Your breath caught. A shark.
No—
Not just a shark. It resembled an ancient megalodon, its massive body covered in dark grey scales that faded into deep navy blue along its back. Every movement was unnervingly smooth, its powerful tail sending ripples through the water with effortless strokes.
The shark tilted its head, like a curious dog. Its central lens whirred softly, zooming in on your face before retracting again.
Then the enormous beast gently bumped its head against the glass.
Thunk.
You blinked. The shark did it again.
Thunk.
"..."
Another bump. Softer this time. It wasn't trying to attack. It was...asking for attention?
You cautiously stepped closer again. The creature remained perfectly still, watching you.
Slowly, you lifted a hand and rested your palm against the glass. Its tail swished happily through the water.
You couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.
The gentle thunk against the aquarium glass lingered in the room just as another sound reached your ears.
A polite knock. It was followed by a familiar voice from the other side of the bedroom door. "Miss? My apologies for the interruption."
You paused, trying to place the voice before it clicked.
Ethan. Vox's assistant. The poor man had probably suffered through months of scheduling meetings between you and Vox, only to watch every single one devolve into an argument.
"You may come in," you called.
The door opened carefully, and Ethan stepped inside with the same composed professionalism you'd come to expect from him. His eyes flickered around the room for only a second before settling respectfully on you.
"Good morning," he greeted with a courteous nod. "Mr. Vox asked me to let you know that transportation has been prepared whenever you wish to leave."
You gave a small nod. "Thank you."
It wasn't as though there was much reason to stay.
Another thunk interrupted the conversation. Rows of dark cyan teeth gleamed beneath the aquarium lights as the great beast continued staring expectantly at you.
You laughed softly. "I think he wants something."
Ethan checked the time on his tablet. "I imagine he's simply hungry."
"Hungry?"
"Yes." He nodded matter-of-factly. "It's nearly feeding time. Shok.wav becomes... rather impatient if his meals are delayed."
Another person came in. A woman strode out with the confidence of someone who believed she owned the floor.
She was... difficult to miss.
Bright orange hair swept dramatically behind her in enormous fin-like shapes that looked almost liquid as they bounced with each step.
You tilted your head. ...Is she supposed to be a goldfish?
She didn't spare you so much as a glance as she marched straight toward Ethan, planting one hand dramatically on her hip. "Ethan," she sighed theatrically, "Valentino is throwing another tantrum. He says if Vox doesn't come down in the next five minutes, he's going to start ripping apart Studio Three.”
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll inform Mr. Vox."
The sinner pouted before leaning forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice just enough that it was obvious she wanted everyone to hear. "You know..." She twirled a strand of her orange hair around one claw. "Maybe if I'm the one who delivers the message, I'll finally get lucky."
Ethan blinked once.
She grinned. "Who knows? Maybe Vox'll finally decide to fuck me."
Ethan somehow managed to remain professionally blank. "I wouldn't count on it."
She huffed dramatically. "Worth a shot."
Only then did she finally notice you. Her lips curled immediately. "...Who's this new bitch?"
Ethan opened his mouth. "Miss, perhaps—"
She ignored him entirely. Her attention remained fixed on you, looking you up and down with open disdain. "Oh, I get it. Listen up, whore."
Ethan visibly winced.
"Whatever little game you've got going with Vox..." She waved a dismissive hand in your direction. "...don't get your hopes up."
You stared at her. She mistook your silence for uncertainty.
"Cute girls come and go all the time. But you're not his type. He likes—"
She never finished the sentence.
Your hand shot forward, your fingers closed around her throat with crushing precision. Ethan remained rooted to the spot, watching in stunned silence.
You tossed her inside. She hit the water with a terrified scream, splashing wildly as she surfaced. Panic overtook whatever survival instincts she possessed as she thrashed toward the edge of the enclosure.
She never made it. The water behind her exploded.
Shok.wav surged forward with terrifying speed, propelled by a single sweep of his colossal tail. His massive jaws opened impossibly wide.
The sinner barely had time to turn. One enormous bite. The surface erupted into white foam. The rippling water settled almost immediately.
Shok.wav drifted lazily through the tank once more, apparently satisfied with his unexpectedly early breakfast.
A small smile tugged at your lips. "Bon appétit."
Shok.wav’s tail gave an almost pleased swish through the water.
As you left, behind the glass, Shok.wav had stopped swimming.
TARGET IDENTIFIED
DESIGNATION: Stranger.that.daddy.likes
Letters scrambled across the screen before being rapidly overwritten.
RELATIONSHIP STATUS UPDATE DETECTED
RECALCULATING...
DIRECTIVE UPDATE COMPLETE
DESIGNATION: Mommy
The drive across Pentagram City gave you far too much time to think. Your thoughts kept wandering back to the television-headed idiot himself.
You scowled at the passing city outside your window.
Stupid kiss.
Stupid one-night stand.
Stupid... surprisingly decent cuddler.
You physically shook your head.
The driver glanced nervously into the rear-view mirror before deciding he wanted absolutely no part in whatever conversation you were having with yourself.
As the Hazbin Hotel came into view atop its hill, you stepped from the car and adjusted your coat.
Almost immediately—
BOOM!
A deafening green explosion ripped through the front of the hotel. The shockwave rolled across the grounds, rattling windows and sending loose bricks tumbling from the already-questionable architecture.
A figure shot through the smoke. The unfortunate snake sinner sailed high into the air like a cannonball, limbs flailing wildly as he disappeared over the hotel's roof.
You watched his trajectory. "...That's going to hurt."
You winced. "He must've annoyed Alastor."
By the time you reached the hotel's entrance, the dust had begun settling. The front wall now sported a rather impressive hole, chunks of masonry littering the ground beneath it.
Standing proudly in the middle of the destruction was Alastor himself. Despite the blast, he looked as impeccably dressed as ever.
His ears perked up the moment he spotted you approaching. "My dear!" His grin somehow widened even further. "Wonderful timing!"
He dusted an imaginary speck from his shoulder before examining the tear in his coat. "Well, it looks as though I require another visit to the tailor. Best of luck, chums!"
Behind him, Vaggie looked absolutely horrified. "Wait, you're leaving?" she shouted, throwing both hands into the air. "Alastor! We need your help! We need you to do your job!"
Angel Dust leaned casually against what remained of the doorway, gesturing toward the gaping hole in the hotel's exterior. "We need a wall."
Alastor looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment. He snapped his fingers. "Of course," His cane tapped lightly against the ground. "Can't have my newest project falling into disrepair already." He chuckled to himself. "What would the papers say?"
The shadows at his feet rippled. Black ink spilled across the ground in impossible shapes before rising into dozens of small, grinning demons.
He offered you his arm with theatrical flourish, and you accepted it.
Together, the two of you strolled away from the chaos behind you, leaving Vaggie barking orders, Angel Dust offering deeply unhelpful commentary, and a small army of ink demons rebuilding the hotel as though catastrophic explosions were simply another item on their daily schedule.
Vox was having a remarkably pleasant day.
The quarterly reports sat open across his desk, every graph climbing steadily upward in satisfying shades of green. The collaboration with your company had exceeded every projection his analysts had dared to make. Player numbers were exploding, merchandise was selling faster than factories could produce it, and VoxTek's stock value had climbed high enough that several investors had nearly kissed his feet that morning.
By every measurable metric...
It was a fantastic day.
Yet, oddly enough, that wasn't what had him smiling.
His fingers absentmindedly drummed against the polished surface of his desk as he leaned back in his chair, the corners of his screen curled into a grin that had lasted nearly the entire morning.
The day was again ruined by Velvette’s call. He had to go calm down Valentino YET AGAIN.
As Valentino launched into another tirade, Vox nodded automatically at all the appropriate moments. "Mhm.”
Almost unconsciously, his hand slipped into his pocket. His phone appeared in his palm.
No missed calls. No new messages. Nothing. His thumb hovered over your contact for a second longer than necessary.
Before Vox could get another word in, Valentino let out an enraged snarl and hurled his phone across the suite. It struck the wall with a deafening crack, exploding into glittering shards that rained across the expensive carpet. Vox’s expression flattened completely, the pleasant mood he'd carried all morning evaporating in an instant.
As Vox managed him, Val took a long drag of his cigarette. "Y'know..." he drawled lazily, smoke curling from between his lips. "Angel isn't the only one spendin' time at that ratty hotel with the devil's princesa."
Vox, who had been busy straightening the papers Valentino had so graciously sent flying, barely looked up. "Oh?" he replied absentmindedly. "Who else is there? Someone who owes you money?”
Valentino chuckled. "No." His grin widened. "Someone who owes us a lot more than money."
The pause lingered deliberately. "The Radio Demon is there."
Everything stopped. The lights throughout the room flickered violently as electricity crackled across Vox's monitor. His claws dug instinctively into the polished desk beneath him, gouging deep grooves through the expensive wood with a harsh screech. Static hissed through the room, the surrounding monitors distorting as blue sparks danced across his screen.
A low laugh escaped him. Small and ominous, completely devoid of humor.
Valentino watched with mild amusement.
Slowly, painfully slowly, Vox turned his head toward him. “W̷̧̊h̵͍̑a̶̳̔t̶̼̊ ̴͉͗d̸͇̑i̴͎͂ḑ̶̏ ̵͕̾y̵̰͑ȯ̷̝u̷̙͂ ̶̡̀j̷̧͋ṵ̷̕s̶͛ͅt̵̝̅ ̶̢̚s̶̟̽a̵̮̍ỵ̶̈?"
"You heard me.”
Vox crossed the room in an instant. "Alastor..."
His screen glitched. "...came back..."
Another step. "...and he's with Lucifer's..."
The words fractured beneath heavy static. "...daughter…”
He seized Valentino by the collar, just enough to wrinkle his expensive coat. "...AND THAT WASN'T THE FIRST FUCKING THING YOU TOLD ME?!”
Valentino merely rolled his eyes. "Hey. Killing Alastor's your kink.”
Valentino brushed invisible dust from his jacket before casually strolling toward the largest monitor in the room. Far above Pentagram City, one of VoxTek's surveillance drones streamed live footage from the sky.
The camera focused on the Hazbin Hotel. Sir Pentious's ridiculous zeppelin drifted overhead.
Dark tendrils exploded upward.
Alastor laughed. The sound carried even through the recording as his eldritch magic ripped through the air, tearing into the airship while Sir Pentious screamed somewhere inside.
The camera tracked Alastor's movements as he dismantled the zeppelin with theatrical delight.
Then...Someone entered the frame.
You.
Vox's eyes narrowed almost immediately. You walked casually toward Alastor, entirely unbothered by the destruction surrounding him. The Radio Demon turned toward you with that ever-present smile of his, and the two of you fell into step beside one another as though this were the most natural thing in the world.
His claws tightened against the edge of the desk.
What the hell were you doing with that outdated freak? The thought came sharp and immediate, irritating him far more than he cared to admit. His eyes remained fixed on the footage, studying the way the two of you carried yourselves.
His jaw clenched.
You didn't belong beside that outdated relic. You were brilliant. Ambitious. You built worlds from nothing, constantly chasing the next innovation, the next impossible idea. Alastor glorified a dead era, like the world had never moved forward.
You matched with...
His thoughts faltered.
...Me.
The realization slipped in before he could stop it.
Your brands complemented each other. You argued with him, infuriated him, refused to flatter him... and somehow still chose to spend hours sitting beside him playing the most ridiculous thing he had ever seen.
He hated the feeling crawling through him.
The tailor's shop was tucked away in one of the quieter streets, its polished windows displaying rows upon rows of elegant garments from another era. Rich velvets, lace collars, fitted coats, and sweeping dresses filled every corner of the boutique, each piece looking as though it had been plucked straight from the early twentieth century.
Alastor looked entirely at home.
You, on the other hand, stood awkwardly near the entrance while the tailor fussed over a tiny tear of Alastor's crimson coat.
While the two chatted pleasantly, your attention wandered around the shop. You rarely bought clothing from boutiques like this. Most of your wardrobe was custom-made, tailored specifically for your combat style and the public image of your company.
You had every intention of waiting quietly near the entrance. Unfortunately...
"My dear!" Alastor called from across the boutique. "Since I've dragged you all this way, you simply must indulge yourself."
"...Al."
"Nonsense." He was already steering you toward a collection of dresses displayed beneath warm golden lights. "No respectable outing with the ladies concludes without a little shopping."
You sighed, already knowing there was little point arguing.
While Alastor chatted cheerfully with the tailor about lapel stitching and proper cuffs, you wandered between the clothing racks more out of politeness than genuine interest.
Most of the dresses weren't your style. Too formal. Too vintage.
Then something caught your eye.
Nestled among the darker fabrics was a striking dress in deep navy and silver, accented with subtle embroidery that traced elegant patterns across the bodice.
You stopped. "...No way." You reached out, running your fingers over the fabric. It looked...ridiculously familiar. One of your company's most popular RPG heroines wore an outfit astonishingly similar to this.
Not identical. Different enough to avoid legal trouble. Despite yourself, you took the dress into the fitting room.
A few minutes later, you stepped back out. The dress fit almost perfectly. You instinctively reached for your wallet.
Another hand beat you to it.
You looked toward Alastor with an exasperated sigh. "...Al. I can pay for my own clothes."
"I have no doubt that you can." He smiled pleasantly as he handed the tailor the money. "That isn't the point."
"You are impossible."
"I've heard that before."
Shaking your head with an amused laugh, the two of you stepped back outside into Pentagram City's bustling streets. Alastor slipped effortlessly back into his freshly repaired crimson coat, straightening the lapels with obvious satisfaction before resuming his leisurely pace beside you.
Eventually, Alastor glanced toward you. "So..." His voice remained light. "How was your day, my dear?"
You smiled to yourself. Anyone else would've thought he was making casual conversation. You knew better.
Alastor rarely asked meaningless questions. Whenever he asked about your day, what he truly wanted was information—which Overlords you'd spoken with, who was making moves, whose influence was growing, whose alliances were shifting. Information was currency, and Alastor loved collecting it.
You opened your mouth. "Oh, I was with V—"
Before you could finish, every television displayed in the surrounding shop windows flickered simultaneously.
The bright blue glow washed over the street. Pedestrians slowed. Vox's face filled every screen. He leaned confidently toward the camera, flashing his trademark showman's grin.
♫ "While he hid in radio..." ♫
Behind him, dazzling graphics exploded across the display.
♫ "We pivoted to video!" ♫
With exaggerated flourish, Vox reached into an oven caked with dried blood and triumphantly pulled out an uncooked, bloodied deer head.
♫ "Now his medium is getting bloody rare!" ♫
You instinctively turned toward Alastor. Behind that impossibly cheerful smile...You could almost hear the gears turning. And judging by the dangerous gleam hidden behind Alastor's crimson eyes...Whatever he was planning next was going to be spectacular.
As you watched the two of them wage a ragebaiting war, Pentagram City paying the price as lights flickered and entire districts plunged into blackout from Vox's latest tantrum, a horrible realization slowly settled over you.
Oh, fuck. You were completely and utterly screwed. On one side stood Alastor, the Radio Demon, one of the few Overlords whose company you genuinely enjoyed. On the other stood Vox—the insufferable television-headed CEO you'd somehow ended up sleeping with.
The problem wasn't simply that they disliked each other. No, dislike was far too gentle a word. They hated each other with every fiber of their being, each taking every opportunity to publicly humiliate the other. And somehow, through a spectacular series of terrible decisions, you had managed to wedge yourself directly between them. If either one discovered just how entangled you'd become with the other... Hell itself would probably seem peaceful by comparison.
Summary: are you able to work out things between you and Vox?
Notes: takes place during S1ep1
CW: fluff, backstory, mention of suicide, smut
Word Count: 5.7K
Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4
Chapter Five: Working Together
The V Tower was exactly what you expected.
Obnoxious.
You stepped through the massive glass entrance, your heels clicking against the polished floor as countless screens illuminated the lobby walls. Advertisements flickered overhead. VoxTek logos rotated across enormous displays. News broadcasts played alongside entertainment programs and product announcements, all competing for attention.
It was a monument to one man's ego.
Your expression remained pleasant as Ethan guided you through the building, though internally you were judging every design choice. You hated that some of it was admittedly impressive.
"Right this way, ma'am," Ethan said nervously.
You glanced at him. The poor assistant looked… you don't even have words. Working for Vox probably took years off one's life expectancy.
"Tough day?" you asked.
Ethan laughed weakly. "I work for Vox."
"Fair enough."
That seemed to be all the explanation either of you needed.
The elevator ride was smooth and almost unnervingly quiet. Floor after floor passed beneath you as the tower stretched higher into the skyline of Pentagram City. Through the glass walls, you could see vast portions of Hell spreading out below.
The view was spectacular. You refused to compliment it.
Eventually, the elevator chimed. By the time you reached the end of the corridor, Ethan appeared relieved that he'd survived the journey.
He stopped before a set of massive double doors. For a brief moment, he hesitated but knocked. From behind the doors came a familiar voice. "Get in here already."
You immediately felt irritation rise.
Ethan visibly deflated. The assistant pushed the doors open and stepped aside. "Sir, your guest has arrived."
Vox was sitting behind his desk, but not in the smug, relaxed manner you had expected. His hands were folded neatly in front of him, his posture rigid. Something that had clearly put him in a foul mood.
Then his eyes lifted and the expression vanished.
Like a switch being flipped.
The grim look disappeared behind the polished corporate mask he wore so well. A charming smile spread across his screen, smooth and practiced, the kind that had convinced countless demons to sign contracts they later regretted.
"Glad you could make it."
You immediately rolled your eyes.
You crossed the room without waiting for an invitation and dropped into the chair opposite his desk. The expensive leather barely squeaked beneath you.
"Cut the bullshit, Vox."
His smile twitched. "Straight to business?”
His expression had settled back into that same grim look you'd caught before entering the room. Honestly? Same here, buddy. You weren't exactly thrilled to be sitting across from him either.
It was strange seeing him like this. Usually there was always some expression on his screen—arrogance, amusement, irritation, something. Right now he looked almost thoughtful.
It was... unsettling.
Your gaze lingered on him longer than intended. Then his eyes shifted, directly toward you.
Caught.
You immediately looked away. The last thing you needed was Vox realizing you'd been staring at him. The man's ego was already large enough.
From the corner of your eye, you caught the faintest hint of amusement flicker across his screen.
Damn it.
Vox leaned back slightly in his chair and released a slow breath. "Look…" The word lacked its usual smoothness. It sounded genuine. Which somehow made you trust it even less.
"We both have the same problem."
Your eyebrow rose. That was news to you.
Vox continued before you could interrupt. "And I think..." His fingers tapped lightly against the desk. "...we could solve it together."
Vox spread his hands slightly, adopting the posture of a businessman presenting a perfectly reasonable offer. "A win-win situation for both parties, hmm?" His eyes remained fixed on yours. "What do you say?"
You snorted. "What's the catch?"
The meeting had been going for less than fifteen minutes, and already he looked exhausted. You considered that a personal achievement.
When he finally spoke, his voice was measured. "I'm offering a fair deal. Trust me—"
"You know," you said thoughtfully, "when someone has to keep saying 'trust me,' it actually makes them sound more suspicious."
His fingers tightened against the edge of his desk. A muscle in his jaw jumped. For a brief moment, the polished businessman disappeared and something much less pleasant surfaced beneath. "Oh, for—"
He stopped himself.
You watched the effort in real time. Watched him swallow whatever response had been about to leave his mouth.
Honestly, it was fascinating. Usually Vox's temper exploded outward. Today he seemed determined to keep it on a leash. Perhaps because he actually needed something.
The thought made you smile.
Unfortunately, Vox noticed that too. His eyes narrowed and he muttered under his breath. "That smile reminds me of someone…"
You held his gaze for a few seconds before eventually shrugging.
"Just hear me out, okay?" The words sounded strained. Like someone desperately trying not to commit a felony. "And stop trying to get a rise out of me."
That almost made you laugh again.
"You keep poking at me every time I try to explain something," he continued. "If you keep doing that, we're never going to get anywhere."
There was an uncomfortable amount of logic in that statement.
With an exaggerated sigh, you settled deeper into your chair and drummed your fingers against the armrest. "Fine."
For a brief moment it looked as though he was debating whether continuing this meeting was worth the risk to his blood pressure.
Then, somehow, he chose maturity.
A shocking development.
"We both want our presence back at the Overlord meetings," he said, folding his hands together atop the desk. "Whether we like it or not, that bitch Carmilla holds a lot of influence over who gets taken seriously. Right now, she thinks we're incapable of working together without causing a scene."
Unfortunately, that assessment wasn't entirely unfair.
Vox continued, his voice settling into a more professional tone. "The easiest solution is to prove her wrong. We do some sort of collaboration together. Something small. Something simple. We show Carmilla we're capable of acting like adults for five minutes, she gets off our backs, and eventually we get our seats back."
You considered the proposal carefully.
It wasn't a terrible idea. That was the annoying part.
For months you had assumed Vox was incapable of producing thoughts that weren't either self-serving or infuriating. Yet this plan was... logical.
Leaning back in your chair, you tapped your fingers against the armrest while you thought. Vox remained unusually patient, allowing you the space to consider the idea.
Finally, you shook your head. "I don't think that would work."
Vox blinked. The confidence he'd been wearing immediately faltered. His expression tightened. "Why?"
The question came out much sharper than intended.
You sat forward slightly and gestured between the two of you. "Because it's us."
"My point is that everyone knows we…don’t get along. If we suddenly announce some tiny partnership or minor business arrangement, nobody's going to care."
He stopped looking irritated and started looking interested.
The entire city knew there was tension between you and Vox. Even demons who didn't follow Overlord politics knew that much. Rumors spread through Hell faster than wildfire, and your rivalry had become a source of entertainment for half of Pentagram City.
The more he thought about it, the more you could tell he was beginning to agree.
A small collaboration would satisfy a technical requirement, but it wouldn't convince anyone. Certainly not Carmilla. She'd see right through it.
You leaned back in your chair and crossed one leg over the other. "If I'm going to collaborate with the Vees, it needs to be special."
Slowly, Vox leaned back in his own chair. His fingers steepled together beneath his chin. And then, to your immediate concern, a grin began spreading across his face.
Not a smug grin. Not a flirtatious one either. A calculating grin. The grin of someone whose brain had just latched onto an idea. "Oh?"
His voice dropped slightly. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
You narrowed your eyes immediately. That expression never led to anything good. Leaning forward slightly, you rested your elbows on the armrests of your chair. "A massive project would be a nightmare."
That at least seemed to make sense to him. "We'd spend months arguing.”
A large-scale partnership between your companies would almost certainly end in property damage.
Possibly homicide.
Definitely paperwork.
You continued. "So no. Nothing major. Nothing that requires us to spend every day together.”
You could see the wheels turning behind his screen.
"We don't need a year-long partnership," you said. "We need something that creates an impact.”
The collaboration, against all odds, actually worked.
Neither you nor Vox were willing to admit that fact out loud.
The first few weeks were filled with technical meetings, paperwork, negotiations, budgeting, advertising plans, licensing agreements, scheduling conflicts, and enough legal documents to bury an entire district of Hell.
You quickly discovered that working with Vox was every bit as irritating as expected.
The television demon had an opinion on everything.
Every. Single. Thing.
To everyone's surprise, the constant arguing somehow improved the final product instead of destroying it.
Whenever Vox suggested something excessively corporate, you shot it down. Whenever you suggested something ridiculously ambitious, Vox shot it down.
Somewhere in the middle, an actual project emerged. One that demons across Hell immediately became obsessed with.
The biggest announcement came from your side. You had decided to introduce the Vees as playable characters. Not ordinary characters.
Characters that required players to complete absurdly difficult objectives before they could be unlocked.
Hell couldn't stop talking about it. Which meant, unfortunately, that Hell also couldn't stop talking about you and Vox.
The launch event itself was packed.
Demons filled the venue from wall to wall while reporters crowded around every available opening.
Screens displayed gameplay footage across enormous displays. Merchandise sold out almost instantly. VoxTek's broadcasts shattered viewership records.
For one rare moment, neither you nor Vox were arguing. There simply wasn't time. Both of you were too busy managing the chaos.
As the event reached its peak, photographers began gathering near the main stage. The media wanted photographs.
Particularly photographs of the two Overlords responsible for the event. You immediately regretted everything.
"Smile."
"No."
The photographer blinked.
Vox sighed.
The photographer tried again. "Perhaps stand closer together?"
"No."
"No."
The photographer looked moments away from quitting.
"Just shake hands," one photographer begged. "Please."
Another nodded desperately. "We only need one picture."
"A single picture."
You looked at Vox. Vox looked at you. The mutual reluctance was obvious. Then, with the enthusiasm of two people signing their own death warrants, you extended your hand.
Vox stared at it.
You stared at him. "Don't make this weird."
"You make everything weird."
"Vox."
"Fine." Finally, he took your hand.
Camera flashes erupted instantly.The room practically exploded with light. Reporters rushed forward. Photographers shouted for additional angles.
The handshake lasted barely three seconds.
Long enough for several hundred pictures to be taken. Long enough for countless headlines to be written.
The moment the cameras were finished, both of you immediately let go. As though the contact itself had been personally offensive.
The launch celebration had long since ended.
Hours ago, the tower had been packed with reporters, investors, influencers, and enough employees to fill three floors. Now, however, the building was quiet. Most of the lights had dimmed. Even the city outside seemed calmer, its neon glow stretching endlessly beyond the massive windows of Vox's office.
You found yourself sitting on one of the couches in the lounge area rather than across from him at a conference table. It felt strange. Every meeting you'd had with Vox before this had involved arguing, negotiations, or one of you trying to verbally strangle the other.
Tonight there were only two wine glasses between you.
And, admittedly, a considerable amount of alcohol.
Vox swirled the amber liquid in his glass as he looked out over Pentagram City. A few moments later, he let out a short laugh and shook his head. "Who would've thought we could actually make this happen, huh?"
You glanced toward him.
The project had been successful beyond either of your expectations. Sales were soaring. Public opinion was positive. More importantly, neither of you had murdered the other during development.
That alone deserved a celebration.
You raised your glass. "Mission impossible indeed."
Vox snorted and lifted his own glass. The crystal chimed softly when they touched.
For a brief moment, comfortable silence settled between you.
"If you miss bickering so much," you said casually before taking a sip, "I can always start again."
Vox nearly laughed into his drink. "There she is."
You grinned. "What?"
"I was beginning to worry you'd been replaced."
"By someone pleasant?"
"God forbid."
You laughed. The sound echoed lightly through the office.
Over the past few months, you'd learned something interesting about Vox.
It hadn't happened all at once. Rather, it had come from dozens of meetings, development sessions, emergency calls, and late-night arguments over project details. Somewhere between wanting to strangle him and begrudgingly acknowledging his competence, you'd begun to notice patterns.
For all his ego, Vox genuinely loved technology.
Not because it made him money.
Well, not just because it made him money.
The television demon lit up whenever someone presented a new invention. He asked questions. Lots of questions. Sometimes annoyingly specific questions. He wanted to know how things worked, how they could be improved, what future versions might look like.
There was a genuine curiosity beneath the corporate persona.
Which made one thing particularly strange. He hated your industry. Not the games themselves, not exactly. From the day you'd arrived in Hell, Vox had treated your entire industry like a personal insult.
At first, you'd assumed it was because of you. But now...now you weren't so sure. The thought lingered in your mind as you glanced across the office.
Or rather, the office cum bedroom. Because apparently Vox had decided separating his work life from his personal life was for lesser demons.
The massive television mounted on the wall dominated the room. Without saying a word, you rose from the couch and walked toward the entertainment setup.
Immediately, Vox looked up from whatever report he was pretending to read. His eyes tracked your movements.
You walked over to the system and began connecting the console to the television. The startup screen flickered to life. You already knew what was coming. You'd spent enough time around Vox to know curiosity was one of his greatest weaknesses.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, you heard the faint sound of something being set down.
You hid your smile. Right on schedule.
The couch behind you shifted as Vox settled onto it. He tried to look casual about it. Tried to look as though he wasn't interested in the slightest.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
You shrugged and leaned back against the couch. "Playing." You gestured vaguely toward the television. "It relaxes me after a hard day."
That seemed to genuinely confuse him.
The television demon looked from you to the screen and back again, as though trying to understand why anyone would willingly spend their free time doing something that wasn't making money, gathering influence, or feeding their ego. For once, neither of you spoke. The room settled into a comfortable silence broken only by the game's cheerful soundtrack.
After a while, you glanced over at him. "Wanna play?"
Vox scoffed immediately. "But what's the point? What purpose does it serve?"
For a second, you simply stared at him. Then a realization struck.
A slow grin spread across your face.
Vox immediately looked alarmed. "Why are you smiling like that?"
"Because you've definitely tried gaming before and got your ass kicked."
The reaction was instantaneous. His screen lit up in a brilliant shade of electric blue.
You froze.
For a moment, you forgot what you were saying entirely.
Huh.
That was...
Actually kind of pretty.
Vox caught you staring and the blue deepened.
To save both of you from the awkwardness, you nudged him lightly with your elbow and pointed at the screen. "Come on. It's a dating sim. You literally can't lose."
Vox looked personally offended by the genre. "That is pathetic."
You simply hummed and returned your attention to the game.
If he didn't want to play, that was fine. You'd have fun without him.
The conversation seemed over after that. You played through the opening chapter, clicking through dialogue and introducing the protagonist. The story was exactly the kind of ridiculous nonsense you enjoyed: a young succubus arriving at an elite magical academy filled with witches, demons, monsters, and enough romantic interests to cause several headaches.
Beside you, Vox remained silent. For approximately five minutes.
Then, without a word, he picked up the second controller.
You didn't comment on it. The fact that he waited until he thought you weren't paying attention made it far too funny.
"Why is she at a magical academy?"
You shrugged. "To learn magic."
"She already has magic."
"Apparently not enough magic."
A few moments later, the story took a dramatic turn. One of the protagonist's friends was ambushed during a school event and dragged away by mysterious enemies. Dramatic music blasted through the speakers. Characters shouted. The screen flashed warnings.
Vox sat forward so quickly you nearly dropped your controller. "The hell?! They kidnapped our friend! We need to go save them."
"Eventually."
His head snapped toward you. "What do you mean, eventually?"
You pointed toward the quest tracker. "We have to complete the side quests first."
"That's stupid." Despite his complaints, however, he didn't put the controller down.
If anything, he leaned closer to the television. And when the next dialogue choice appeared, Vox immediately pointed at one of the options. "No, pick that one."
A smile tugged at your lips. This wasn’t that bad after all.
An hour later, Vox was completely absorbed. You found yourself watching him almost as much as the game.
You watched as he navigated through various menus, exploring every option available. His eyes lit up slightly as he discovered customization systems, unlockables, and progression mechanics.
Soon he was rattling off ideas. You listened patiently, occasionally nodding when he made a good point.
Then, inevitably, the businessman surfaced. "We're giving them all of this for free?"
You immediately knew where this was going. "Yes."
A grin slowly spread across his face. "We should monetize it."
Your smile vanished.
Vox didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps he simply ignored it.
His enthusiasm only grew. "Think about it," he said, setting his controller down and gesturing animatedly. "The players already like these features. We introduce them for free initially, let everyone get accustomed to them, then slowly start charging for premium access."
"Sorry, Vox."
The interruption made him stop. The room fell quiet. For the first time all evening, the excitement disappeared from his face.
"I won't allow that."
The disappointment was immediate. As though he'd genuinely expected you to agree.
His shoulders sank slightly. "Why not?"
The question came out almost confused. Like he couldn't understand why anyone would object. "We'd make more money."
"If you put money on literally everything, Vox, nobody will play it."
Vox shook his head and leaned back further into the couch. "See?," he scoffed. "Half of our arguments happen because you keep having moral objections to everything. I have no such flaw."
Your jaw ticked. The annoyance came immediately. You sat forward slightly and fixed him with a look. "I'm sorry if I prefer selling people exactly what I promised them."
Vox raised an eyebrow. "Oh, please. This is business."
For a moment, Vox simply studied you over the rim of his glass. The amusement remained, but something more thoughtful appeared beneath it. "Don't tell me you've actually convinced yourself you're some kind of angel." Vox gestured lazily toward the city outside. "Because you're here too. In Hell. Just like me."
Your anger reached a new height. Before you even realized what you were doing, you were on your feet. Vox's eyes followed your movement, confusion briefly flashing across his screen before it was replaced by surprise. You stopped directly in front of him, forcing him to tilt his head back to look up at you. One of your legs slid between his as he sat on the couch, effectively trapping him in place.
For once, the smug bastard didn't have a clever remark ready.
"How dare you judge me. You want to know what I did to get here?" A humorless laugh escaped you. "Listen close, motherfucker."
"I joined one of the most famous game technology companies in the world when I was alive. Do you have any idea how hard it was just to get in?" You folded your arms across your chest. "Thousands of applicants. Barely any openings. I started at the very bottom as an intern."
"I worked my ass off. I stayed later than everyone else. I volunteered for projects nobody wanted. I skipped vacations. I skipped weekends. My entire life revolved around work because I knew that if I could just get one opportunity..." Your jaw tightened. "One opportunity, I could prove I deserved more."
"Then I got my chance." Your laugh was sharp, bitter. "My first major project."
The old fury was crawling back now.
"I poured everything into it. Months of work. Countless all-nighters. Every spare second I had went into making it perfect." Your gaze hardened. "And I knew it was good. I knew it would get me promoted."
"When presentation day arrived, my senior stole it. He took everything. My research. My designs. My work. Then he stood in front of management and presented it as his own."
Your fingernails dug into your palms. "And he got the promotion." The words came out through gritted teeth. "The promotion that was supposed to be mine."
"So I started digging." You smiled. A cold smile. "I found everything. He was a parasite."
Your smile widened. And there was nothing pleasant about it.
"I wasn't interested in blackmail."
The statement surprised him. You could see it.
"I didn't want money." A shrug.
"I wanted consequences. So I made sure every company in the industry knew exactly who he was. I leaked everything. And suddenly nobody wanted him."
Your voice had become calmer now. "He applied everywhere. No one hired him."
You remembered checking. You remembered the satisfaction every time another application was rejected. "I monitored his online activity. I wanted to make sure he never recovered."
"When I became the youngest department head in the company's history..." You snorted "...I learned he'd hung himself."
"I built everything I have through my own talent." Your gaze locked onto his. "And I ruthlessly crushed anyone who tried to take it from me."
You were still standing over him when the silence stretched between you.
The anger was still there, simmering beneath your skin. Your heart was pounding from the confession, from dragging years of bitterness and ugly memories into the open.
Vox’s head remained tilted back against the couch as his gaze followed yours. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn't trying to interrupt. He was simply looking at you.
You frowned slightly.
What kind of expression was that?
It wasn't pity.
Definitely not fear.
And it certainly wasn't disapproval.
The longer you studied him, the stranger it became. There was admiration there. Respect, somehow. A hint of awe and…
He let out a low, shaky laugh, voice rough around the edges. “I was trying to be polite and wait for you to finish,” he said, eyes never leaving yours, “but fuck… that was hot.”
Before you could respond, Vox surged upward, one hand sliding to the back of your neck as he pulled you into a fierce, hungry kiss.
You didn’t know what came over you.
The moment Vox’s lips crashed against yours, something inside you snapped. You kissed him back just as fiercely, tongues sliding, teeth grazing. Your hands were everywhere at once, yanking at his clothes while he tore at yours with just as much spiteful hunger.
“Careful,” Vox growled against your lips, ripping your shirt open so hard a few buttons pinged off the wall. “You’re gonna owe me a new jacket if you keep that up, sweetheart.”
“Shut up and strip faster,” you shot back, shoving his torn shirt down his arms and dragging your nails down his chest. “Or are you all talk, like usual?”
He laughed, low and filthy, then spun you both back until your back hit the couch. Before you could fire off another insult, Vox dropped his head and dragged his mouth down the side of your neck, biting just hard enough to make you hiss. He kept going lower, kissing and licking a hot, wet trail across your collarbone and down your chest.
“Fuck… look at you,” he murmured against your skin, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. His tongue flicked over one of your nipples before he sucked it into his mouth, hard. “Always strutting around like you’re better than me. Yet here you are, shaking the second I put my mouth on you.”
“Big talk for someone who’s been eye-fucking me for months,” you snarled, even as your body arched into his mouth. “Don’t act like you haven’t been dying for this, Vox.”
“Still acting tough?” Vox murmured against your abdomen, his voice husky and vibrating through you. His hands slid up your sides, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just under your ribs as he looked up at you with dark, hooded eyes. “Your body’s betraying you, doll. You’re trembling.”
You tightened your grip on him, torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you breathed, voice rough with want. “You’re just… decent with your mouth. For once.”
“Decent?” Vox repeated, nipping at your hipbone as he peeled the last of your ruined clothes away. His fingers traced the lines of your body with surprising reverence, like he was memorizing every curve and dip.
You let out a shaky exhale, hips twitching involuntarily toward his mouth. “Cocky bastard, you talk too much. Put that mouth to better use before I change my mind and kick your ass.”
Vox’s smirk was pure sin as he looked up at you, eyes gleaming with challenge. Vox’s mouth trailed back up your body with agonizing slowness, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach and ribs.
When he reached your chest, he groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he lavished attention on your tits. His tongue dragged heavily over one nipple before he sucked it into his hot mouth, teasing the sensitive peak with slow, deliberate flicks while his hand palmed the other, squeezing and rolling it between his fingers.
You arched into him with a sharp gasp, but before you could catch your breath, you felt his other hand slide between your thighs.
“Fuck—” you hissed as two of his fingers stroked through your slick folds, parting you teasingly.
Vox lifted his gaze just enough to smirk against your breast. “Already dripping down my hand,” he murmured, voice low and smug. “Thought you didn’t like me?”
“Shut up,” you growled, but the words dissolved into a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you in one smooth, deep stroke. The stretch was perfect—his fingers long and skilled, curling just right as he began to fuck you with them in a slow, sensual rhythm.
He kept his mouth busy on your tits, alternating between them with wet kisses, languid licks, and filthy little sucks that made your nipples ache.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned against your skin, teeth grazing the soft underside of your breast before soothing it with his tongue. He pumped his fingers faster, curling them against that sensitive spot inside you with every stroke. “So tight… squeezing around me like you’ve been waiting for this.”
You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the desperate sounds climbing up your throat, but a wrecked moan still slipped out when he added a third finger, stretching you wider.
The pleasure built fast and merciless under Vox’s relentless rhythm.
“Vox—fuck—” you gasped, hips grinding desperately against his hand, chasing the friction.
He pulled off your nipple with a wet pop, lips brushing against your flushed skin as he looked up at you. “That’s it,” he growled, “Fall apart for me. Let me feel you come all over my fingers.”
His thumb pressed firmly against your clit, circling in time with his thrusting fingers, and that was all it took.
Your orgasm crashed over you hard. A broken cry tore from your throat as your walls clenched tightly around his fingers. Pleasure flooded every nerve, white-hot and overwhelming, as you came with his name spilling from your lips like a curse and a prayer.
Vox didn’t stop moving, drawing out every last pulse and shiver until you were trembling and gasping, boneless against him. Only then did he slowly ease his fingers out of you.
When you finally managed to open your eyes, you found him staring up at you.
His usual cocky smirk was gone. Instead, Vox looked at you with raw, undisguised awe—eyes wide, lips parted, his expression almost reverent as he took in your flushed face, heaving chest, and the way your body still twitched with aftershocks. His hand rested possessively on your hip, thumb stroking gentle circles over your skin like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just witnessed.
“Fuck…” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You look… incredible when you come.”
You hummed, low and deliberately non-committal, refusing to acknowledge the sincerity burning in his gaze.
Without thinking, you rolled your hips forward, grinding slowly against him. The hard, unmistakable length of his cock pressed right against your slick heat, and a wicked little thrill shot through you.
Vox let out a sharp, strained groan, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you rocked against him again, deliberately dragging your wetness along his shaft.
“You keep grinding on me like that and I’m not gonna be polite for much longer,” he warned, though the way his hips rolled up into you betrayed just how badly he wanted it. “Might have to fuck you properly… ruin that smug attitude of yours.”
You snorted, the sound half-laugh, half-disbelief. He was the one with the biggest ego around here.
Vox dragged this cock along your slick slit with excruciating slowness, coating himself in your wetness. He repeated the motion, gliding up and down, savoring the way your body trembled for him.
Then, with a low, rumbling groan, he pushed inside.
The stretch was delicious—slow and overwhelming. Inch by thick inch, his cock parted your walls, filling you so completely that your lips fell open in a silent gasp.
Vox’s slow, luxurious strokes gradually deepened. Each roll of his hips became more purposeful as he fucked you with long, dragging thrusts that made your back arch off the surface.
“Shit…” you moaned, legs tightening around his waist as you took every inch. Pleasure sparked up your spine with every thrust.
Vox lifted his head from your chest, eyes half-lidded and burning as he watched your face. One hand slid up to grip your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip while he fucked you harder, deeper. “Look at me,” he rasped.
You gasped, nails raking down his back. “Fuck— Vox—”
“Yeah?” He smirked, but it was strained, cracked by pleasure. “This is what you needed, doll? My cock stretching this greedy pussy open?”
You tried to answer with something biting, but it came out as a broken moan when he angled his hips and fucked you even harder. The slap of skin on skin grew louder, faster.
Vox was getting too much say in this.
The way he was fucking you — deep, confident, and far too smug — lit a spark of competitive fire in your chest. You weren’t about to let him run the show.
With a wicked grin, you locked your legs tightly around his waist. Before he could process what was happening, you twisted your body with sudden strength and flipped him beneath you. Vox’s back hit the surface with a surprised grunt, eyes wide as his cock stayed buried deep inside you from the motion.
“What the—?!” he started, clearly caught off guard, but the words died in a choked groan as you settled on top of him.
Now straddling him, you braced your hands on his chest and started riding him with slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. Vox’s screen glitched for a split second before a deep blue blush bloomed brightly across his face. “Shit… you’re really going to— ahh,” he groaned, hands flying to your hips, fingers digging in hard.
His claws scraped down your thighs before gripping your ass, guiding you as you rode him harder.
“Fuck— you’re breathtaking,” he rasped, voice glitching with static. You leaned forward, bracing your hands beside his head as you fucked yourself on him faster, the new angle letting him hit even deeper.
“You’re blushing so prettily for me, Vox. Never thought I’d see that.”
He let out a strained laugh that turned into a moan when you clenched around him deliberately. “Shut up and keep riding me, you infuriating— fuck, just like that,” he growled, hips bucking up to meet your movements.
The rhythm between you grew frantic, desperate. His hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, slick circles. “Come on, baby… let me feel you come on my cock.”
The added stimulation made your pace falter, your thighs shaking as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core. “Vox— shit—” you gasped, nails raking down his chest.
His hips snapped up sharply. “That’s it… just like that. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—”
Your orgasm hit you like a wave, sudden and devastating. You cried out, body locking up as intense pleasure ripped through you, your walls pulsing and fluttering hard around his cock. The sensation dragged Vox right over the edge with you.
“Fuck—!” Vox’s voice glitched harshly as he thrust up one last time, burying himself deep inside you. His cock throbbed powerfully as he came, spilling hot and thick into you with a long, wrecked groan.
Slowly, you collapsed onto his chest, his cock still buried inside you as the last pulses of pleasure faded. Vox’s arms wrapped around you almost possessively, one hand stroking lazily down your back.
You knew the time for you to panic over this will come later after clarity sets in.
Inspired by recent reincarnated reader post; now I’m think img of a Cinderella/anastasia scenario, where either reader went to hell with her terrible family who maybe owns her soul or is just guilt tripping her into staying with them and said family tries to pass of one of the favourites as reincarnated reader but Luci and Lilith immediately look at actual reader and steal her away (a good steal obviously, they can tell the family is mean to reader) or they try to pass reader off as reincarnated reader just to get rid of her and hopefully gain more power by being related to royalty not knowing that she’s the real deal. It would definitely end the same no matter which way it goes
But now I’m also thinking of Luci and Lilith just protecting reader from Bad Things™️. I love them being protective
I LOVE IT
For the second scenario at the top, imagine your family actually had some nobility or royal standing in the human world before you all died. But, since you are sinners, of course hell's nobility does not really care.
You are not hellborn. You are not an Ars Goetia or even from one of the lesser houses. Sinner class status means nothing down here.
Your family hates this and yearns to be recognised for the royalty that they are. So, when they hear the news that the king and queen themselves have been waiting a long time for their wife to return... the attention turns to you.
And oh you hate it.
They've already been trying to marry you off to several hellish lords to gain favor with the court. But no takers. And you were silently thankful for it.
You hated what your family was doing. Hated feeling like nothing more than a rung on a ladder for your family. A prize for them to sell off to the highest bidder so they can reap all the rewards without taking your feelings into account...
And this was no different.
That was, until you met them in person for yourself.
It was actual hell for your parents to try and get a meeting with the king and queen. Favors and promises were made to people in high places that you knew they wouldn't be able to keep. Bribes were given. All just for a moment to stand before Lucifer and Lilith and sell off their daughter to them.
It wouldn't work.
You knew deep down in your gut that flipped and bubbled as you stood in the court room beside your father. His hands gripping onto your arms so tight it was sure to leave bruises.
A warning. Don't fuck this up for us, you could hear his voice in your head. Keep your head down, look pretty, and let me do the talking.
It wouldn't work.
You saw with your own two eyes as offer after offer came in. The same person claiming to be their missing bride. Or someone parading some poor soul around proudly proclaiming that they've found their long lost love! It was a sad scene to behold... despite how amused it made some of the nearby sins. Even some of the Ars Goetia found the whole thing to be an amusing farce and heckled them on the king and queen's behalf.
Speaking of. You did try to do as your parents said and keep your eyes down until it was your turn... but occasionally you would glance up at the two largest thrones in the room. Where Lucifer and Lilith sat.
And the strangest feeling would overcome you... a deep ache you'd never felt before... something pulling you to them.
Run to them. A voice inside you insisted.
Who-?
You felt yourself being pulled now by your father. So suddenly you almost tripped and made a fool of yourself. You avoided his glare and followed his lead until they had you positioned right at the end of the long steps leading up to where the king and queen sat like gods looking down on you. They were massive up there. Truly larger than life.
They were beautiful.
The woman's expression was neutral. Hardened slightly from the theatrics of the last "offer" before you, but you could see that she was still trying to show some interest to keep up appearance.
And the man looked simply tired. He didn't even try to hide it. His head rested in his hand, his index finger rubbed impatiently at his temple. He truly looked like he would rather be anywhere else at this point in time.
You completely forgot how to breathe. You forgot yourself entirely, staring plainly at them in shock, completely ignoring your parents instructions to keep your head down. Forgot you had all the eyes of hell's nobility on you.
These two ancient beings were simply... enchanting beyond words. You felt like you were in a trance.
Then that pull in your chest again.
Go to them. They're right there-
"-you see, that's why our daughter would make a perfectly suitable wife! She is already of royal blood, from a very powerful house I must say-"
You were pulled from your trance when the attention of the king and queen fell onto you, curious.
Both their eyes widened in surprise. Almost like they suddenly realized a ghost had been standing in the room with them. You saw them both go pale, as if such a thing were possible.
It was like they mirrored the trance you felt from before.
You felt a hitch in your breath and you quickly ripped your gaze away, fearing you had done something wrong. Cheeks warming rapidly, you tried your best to soothe the anxiety building in your chest.
Once your father finished his speech, there was only a beat of silence before chatter erupted among the court, even some laughs scattered here and there.
One of the sins, the loud one in a very thick Australian accent even started heckling your father, just to add to the embarrassment.
Dread stirred within you. Tears pricked at your eyes.
Oh god-
You could feel his wrathful gaze on you. You ruined this. You messed up somehow.
Now you would be punished-
But all was immediately silenced when the queen, Lilith, suddenly stood.
Even you couldn't help but look up at her. Your heart strangely hopeful... why was it hopeful..?
I thought you didn't want this-
"My husband and I would like to take this claim into further consideration," she spoke. Her voice as smooth as a song, but commanded attention and respect. "in the meantime, all other offers of information on the whereabouts of our queen will be suspended."
More mumbles among the nobility. This time it was a little more subdued. Unsure.
Her lilac eyes fell to you.
Lucifer as well had his eyes fixed on you since he first met your gaze.
You felt yourself shrink a little under their eyes.
"As for your daughter," she spoke to your father. "we'd like for her to stay with us in the palace while we deliberate on this."
You could practically feel the excitement radiating off him. This is the happiest you've made him in a long time.
"Oh splendid! We would be truly honored to be hosted by your grace-"
"Only your daughter." The queen cut through his words, silencing him. "this is a very personal and delicate situation. We hope you understand."
All at once you felt that brief bout of happiness get sucked away like light into a black hole. And their resentful eyes burned into the back of your head. You knew your father wanted to spit and cry and argue. But they've already come so far now.
You winced when you felt his hand tighten on your arm again.
Don't. Fuck. This. Up.
"Perfectly understandable, your grace~" he said bitterly with a pretend smile. "I hope my daughter won't be too much trouble for you."
Your arm was released, much to your relief, and the queen motioned for a group of imp servants and a few demon guards to come and escort you towards a door off to the side. To take you... where? Into a new cage?
Sure, a palace... but in life you stayed in a palace. And it was more of a prison. There wasn't much difference to you. But you supposed anywhere your parent's disapproving eyes couldn't reach you would be better.
As you passed by the thrones, you glanced up towards the king and queen... they still had their gazes upon you. The queen's hardened features had softened... and the man looked like some light had been brought back into his eyes. You could have sworn you even saw the small tug of a smile at the corner of his lips-
And just before you disappeared through the mysterious door and into a strange new life... that pulling again...
HAPPY BIRTHDAY STAR MY LOVE 💖💖💖💖💖🥰🥰🥰 I hope you had a good one!! Thank you so much for everything you do and for feeding us with your wonderful writing!!
Does this to you:
AWWW THANK YOU BB 😭💖💖💖 This is so sweet, you’re gonna make me emotional 🥹💕 I’m so happy you enjoy my writing and that I get to share these stories with you all. Honestly, your love and support are the best birthday gift I could ask for 🥰✨ Thank you for always being here😭💗
Not you gifting us that masterpiece of a one-shot when it’s your birthday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎁🎉🎈🎂🎊
Honestly, there was no better way to spend my birthday than creating something I love and sharing it with people who appreciate it. Your support means everything ❤️
Really, all problems started with Bee and Ozzie teasing Lucifer on how lovely you looked in your wedding gown, knowing he won't be able to resist.
Lucifer had been doing surprisingly well, all things considered. He hadn't sent Charlie to "accidentally" check on you, and had only checked the time seventeen times in the last ten minutes.
Lucifer had tugged on his bow tie several times already. The damn thing wasn't even crooked.
He knew that. Lilith knew that. Anyone with functioning eyesight would know that.
Yet somehow he kept finding reasons to adjust it.
A small pull to the left. A slight tightening. Then a complete undoing of the knot because perhaps the entire thing had been tied incorrectly from the start.
Five minutes later, he was staring at the finished result only to discover it looked exactly the same as before.
With a long sigh, he finally abandoned the battle and dropped into a chair.
This was bad.
He only had to wait another half hour. Perhaps less.
Thirty minutes was nothing. He had existed for millennia.
Thirty minutes should have been easy. So why did it feel impossible?
"What's wrong, love?"
Lucifer glanced sideways.
Lilith sat beside him, elegant as ever. Every detail of her appearance was perfect, from the drape of her clothing to the jewels adorning her neck. She looked every bit the Queen of Hell, poised and untouchable.
After all, this wasn't exactly their first wedding.
Over the centuries, Lucifer and Lilith had accumulated enough ceremonies to fill several history books. They had exchanged vows beneath marble temples during ancient Roman celebrations. They had walked around sacred fires in elaborate Indian ceremonies. They had participated in old Welsh traditions, handfasting rituals, forgotten customs that no longer existed anywhere but their memories.
He opened his mouth, already preparing a teasing remark.
The words never came. Because he noticed her hands.
At first, it was subtle.
Just a slight tremor. A tiny movement. But once he saw it, he couldn't unsee it.
Lucifer's smile softened as he looked at her. Without a word, he stepped behind Lilith's chair and reached around her, threading their fingers together.
Almost immediately, the tension seemed to leave her shoulders. The tremble in her hands disappeared.
A quiet chuckle escaped him as he rested his chin atop her head. "You're as nervous as I am?"
Lilith released a long sigh. "Of course I am."
There was no attempt to deny it.
Her fingers tightened around his. "We're marrying her."
The words alone were enough to make both of them smile.
Lilith shook her head softly. "I'm excited and nervous and—"
Lucifer leaned down and pressed a kiss against her cheek before she could finish. "I know how you feel, honey."
For a moment, he simply stayed there, his cheek brushing against her hair. "Not being able to see her all day has my brain overthinking everything."
Lilith let out a small laugh. "Yes, I've been hearing you whine about it the entire day."
Lucifer gasped dramatically. His hand flew to his chest as though she'd stabbed him. "Whine?"
"You heard me."
"I was expressing my completely valid emotional distress."
"You complained because Charlie wouldn't send you pictures. You asked her what - twelve times?"
"Thirteen."
She stared.
Lucifer shrugged. "I was committed."
The laugh that escaped her this time was brighter. The sound eased something inside his chest.
"You're no better, you know," he continued, "I distinctly remember you trying to bribe Vaggie."
Lilith immediately looked away. "I was not bribing her."
"You offered her an entire island."
"It was a small island."
"A small kingdom, more like."
Lilith's lips twitched. "Semantics."
Lucifer shook his head in disbelief. Then, after a moment, his expression softened.
The teasing faded away. His thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand. "Anyways...I'm sure she's as nervous as we are."
"Why would I be nervous?!" You laughed so hard that one of the maids nearly poked you in the eye with a makeup brush.
The room was bustling with activity. Several attendants moved around you, adjusting your veil, fixing your hair, and applying the final touches to your makeup. Another sat at your feet, carefully painting your nails while a third worked on your pedicure. Honestly, you felt less like a bride and more like royalty.
Actually, scratch that.
You were marrying the King and Queen of Hell.
You practically were royalty.
A content sigh escaped you as you sank deeper into the plush chair. This was amazing. People were bringing you snacks, helping you get dressed, and fussing over every tiny detail while you did absolutely nothing. If this was what being a royal bride felt like, you could get used to it very quickly.
Across the room, Bee and Ozzie exchanged amused glances.
There was a reason they liked you.
"You're seriously not nervous?" Bee asked, watching as a maid carefully adjusted one of the jewels woven into your hair.
You blinked at her. "No?"
The answer came so naturally that both she and Ozzie immediately started laughing.
You looked between them, confused by their reactions. "What?"
"It's your wedding," Ozzie pointed out.
"Exactly."
"You should be nervous."
"Why?"
Bee threw her hands into the air. "Because you're about to walk down an aisle and commit yourself to two incredibly powerful immortals for the rest of eternity!"
You considered that for a moment. Then shrugged. "Sounds pretty great to me."
That only made them laugh harder.
Honestly, you couldn't understand what was so strange about your reaction. This wasn't some arranged marriage. This wasn't a decision you'd been forced into. You loved Lucifer and Lilith more than words could describe.
You were getting married to the loves of your life!
The thought sent a rush of excitement through your chest.
Your smile widened as you glanced at your reflection in the mirror. The gown was beautiful. The veil was beautiful. Everything was beautiful.
And soon you'd finally get to see them.
God, you couldn't wait. You were so ready for this. Ready to walk down the aisle. Ready to promise forever.
And all you could think was that the ceremony wasn't starting nearly fast enough.
Eventually, Bee checked the time and let out a quiet groan. "We should probably make sure everything is actually ready."
Ozzie nodded in agreement. "We'll only be gone for a minute."
"I'll be fine." You reassured them.
Her eyes narrowed. That was exactly the sort of sentence people said before causing trouble.
"You promise?"
"Bee."
"I'm serious."
Finally, you sighed dramatically. "I promise I won't sneak out."
"I didn't say anything about sneaking out."
"Because that's obviously what you're worried about."
Ozzie snorted. "She's got you there."
Bee ignored him. "You are not leaving this room."
"I'm not leaving this room."
"You are not trying to find Lucifer."
You looked offended. "Why would I do that?"
Both of them stared at you.
"..."
"..."
"Okay, that's fair."
Ozzie barked out a laugh.
There had already been at least three intercepted attempts to obtain information about you.
Needless to say, nobody trusted him.
Or you, for that matter.
Because if Lucifer somehow managed to sneak into the bridal suite, there was a very real chance you'd simply shrug and let him stay. Nobody was concerned about Lilith, somehow the perfect angel in the Sins' eyes. If only you could tell them what she got up to...
You cleared your throat. "I'll survive, go."
Before leaving, Bee glanced back one last time. "If Lucifer appears, yell."
You rolled your eyes. "Yes, Mom."
Bee gasped in outrage. Ozzie immediately started laughing as he dragged her into the hallway.
Finally. A few minutes of peace.
The maids had finished most of their work and were busy cleaning up brushes, powders, and various beauty products scattered around the room. Nobody paid much attention as you unlocked your screen.
Your notifications were a disaster.
The first messages were from Charlie and Vaggie. You smiled as you opened them.
Charlie: Everything is going great! Everyone's seated! Nobody's fighting! This is the best day ever!!!
Charlie: Okay, one person is fighting but we're handling it.
Charlie: Never mind, it's two people.
Vaggie: Everything is under control.
Charlie: IT'S THREE PEOPLE.
You laughed.
Poor Vaggie. She deserved a medal, or several.
Next came messages from Husk, Cherri, and Angel. The moment you opened the chat, you knew exactly what kind of nonsense awaited you.
Husk: Bar's stocked.
Angel: When I say stocked, I mean STOCKED💦
Cherri: If ya wanna get absolutely smashed tonight, we've got ya covered.
A picture followed. It appeared to be an alarming quantity of alcohol.
You didn't even want to know how much money had gone into that collection.
Angel: Also we got a getaway car ready if ya get cold feet.
Cherri: Fastest one we could steal.
Husk: Acquire.
Cherri: Same thing.
You snorted. Absolutely ridiculous. As if you were getting cold feet. You'd been counting down the days until this wedding.
If anything, you were more likely to kidnap your own fiancés and drag them to the altar yourself.
Shaking your head, you continued scrolling.
More messages. More congratulations. More well wishes.
Then your thumb paused.
A familiar group chat appeared on your screen - you, Lilith and Lucifer.
Immediately, your smile widened.
The chat was buried beneath a mountain of unread messages because Ozzie had blocked the group from receiving anything for the last several hours.
Apparently, after Lucifer's twelfth attempt, Ozzie had decided drastic measures were necessary.
You opened the chat anyway. The last message was from -
"Lily?!" you gasped as Lilith sneaked in your room, "How did you get in here?"
There was absolutely no way Bee and Ozzie had allowed this.
You were still trying to solve that mystery when a realization struck you. Lilith hadn't answered; hadn't even seemed to register your question.
She was simply staring. All you could feel was her gaze.
Your breath caught. You felt heat rush into your cheeks. "Lily?"
"You are..."
Her voice faltered. Which was perhaps the most shocking thing of all, because Lilith always knew what to say.
The smile on your face softened. "You okay?"
Lilith shook her head.
"I think," she said quietly, "that I had a speech prepared."
You blinked. "A speech?"
"I spent days thinking about what I would say when I saw you."
You took a step closer, "And now?"
"Now I've forgotten all of it."
The heat that flooded your cheeks was immediate and impossible to ignore.
Instinctively, you reached for your veil, fingers fumbling behind your head as though the delicate fabric could somehow shield you from the intensity of Lilith's gaze.
Resist.
Resist.
Resist.
The words repeated in your mind like a prayer. A completely useless prayer.
Because Lilith was standing in your bridal suite looking at you as though she'd discovered the most beautiful thing in existence.
You swallowed. "Umm..."
Smooth. Very smooth.
"I'm glad to see you, Lily, but Ozzie and Bee will be back soon."
Lilith looked amused. "That's alright."
There was a particular glint in her eyes that instantly made you suspicious. "I got them tangled up with their boyfriends."
You blinked. For a moment, you genuinely thought you'd misheard her. "What?"
Lilith's smile deepened. It was a dangerous smile. The kind she wore whenever she'd successfully outsmarted someone. "If I can't negotiate with them, their boyfriends are more than willing to keep them distracted."
"Oh my God." A laugh escaped you. You shook your head. "How cunning."
The compliment clearly pleased her.
A knowing smile touched her lips. "I think you like my cunning."
"I love everything about you."
The space between you disappeared. Later, neither of you would be able to remember who moved first.
The kiss stole the breath from your lungs. One of your hands found her shoulder while the other tangled lightly in her hair. Lilith's arm slipped around your waist, drawing you closer until there wasn't a sliver of space left between you.
Lilith’s tongue teased yours, drawing a low moan from your throat that she swallowed eagerly. Her hands never stopped moving, gripping your hips as she walked you backward across the room.
Your legs bumped the edge of an antique loveseat. "Lily."
"Yes, darling?"
"We are definitely going to get caught."
"Probably." The fact that she sounded completely unconcerned made you laugh again.
“Down you go, darling,” she purred. She gave you a gentle but firm push. You sank onto the cushions, heart racing.
She sank to her knees before you. Her hands gathered the voluminous layers of your elaborate wedding gown, lifting it with surprising ease—only the shifting fabric and the sudden warmth of her breath against your bare thighs betrayed her presence.
You gasped as her palms smoothed up your legs, pushing them further apart. Cool air hit your exposed core for only a second before Lilith’s hot mouth was on you.
Her tongue dragged slowly up your slit, savoring you, before circling your clit with deliberate, teasing strokes. A muffled, pleased hum vibrated against your pussy as she tasted you properly.
“Fuck— Lily…” you moaned, your head falling back against the loveseat.
The thick layers of the gown hid her completely, making the sensations even more intense. You couldn’t see her, only feel the wicked work of her tongue and lips as she devoured you. She licked and sucked with expert precision—long, slow drags followed by quick flicks over your swollen clit, then dipping lower to push her tongue inside you.
Your hands fisted the fabric of your gown, bunching it up as your hips rolled helplessly against her mouth. Lilith responded by gripping your thighs firmly, holding you open while she feasted.
She was relentless. Every time you whimpered or moaned her name, she doubled down—sucking your clit between her lips and flicking it rapidly with the tip of her tongue until your legs started to tremble.
The antique loveseat creaked beneath you as your body tensed, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
You were panting, biting your lip to try and stay quiet, but it was getting harder by the second.
Just as you felt yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, you managed to gasp out a weak protest. “Lilith… wait—” you breathed, voice strained. “We’ll be late to our own wedding if you keep this up… we have the wedding night to—”
Lilith didn’t falter for even a second. If anything, she pressed her mouth more firmly against your dripping pussy, sucking your clit harder as her tongue flicked rapidly. Her muffled reply came up from beneath the fabric, husky and dripping with wicked amusement. “I can have you twice then, hmm?”
“How greedy…” you gasped. The sheer confidence and hunger in her voice made you chuckle breathlessly, the sound quickly melting into a deep, needy moan as she pushed you right back toward the brink.
Your thighs clamped around her head beneath the gown, hips jerking uncontrollably against her mouth.
Lilith didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she slowed her movements, becoming gentler, more tender. Her tongue gave long, soothing strokes along your sensitive folds, easing you down from the high.
You slumped back against the loveseat, chest heaving as you tried desperately to catch your breath.
Then you heard footsteps approached the door, both you and Lilith froze.
"Oh, shit." The words had barely left your mouth before the handle began to turn.
You sat ramrod straight, trying your best to look normal.
The door swung fully open and there stood Lucifer. You sighed in relief.
The moment he saw you, his entire face lit up. It was almost unfair. "Oh." The word escaped him quietly.
You felt your cheeks warm.
Lucifer took a step inside.
His gaze never left you. "Love, you look..."
His hand pressed against his chest. "You look incredible."
Your heart immediately melted.
Lucifer shook his head. "No, incredible isn't right."
"Words have failed me."
"Lucifer—" Why wasn't Lilith getting out of there? This was about to get really awkward.
"I'm serious."
Lucifer let out a dramatic sigh. "Honestly, nothing compares."
"Lucifer."
"I'm apologizing in advance, by the way."
You blinked. "For what?"
"For entering without permission. But in my defense, it wasn't entirely my fault—" Then Lucifer stopped his ramblings suddenly and narrowed his eyes as he got a closer look at your face.
You felt a bead of sweat form.
"Wait. I know that expression."
Your heart immediately began pounding. You forced out a nervous chuckle. "What expression?" You had no idea why you were acting like you had something to hide.
Lucifer’s gaze drifted over your flushed cheeks, your slightly parted lips, and the way your chest was still rising and falling a little too quickly. A slow, knowing grin began to spread across his face.
“That glow,” he murmured, almost reverently. “You think I wouldn't know? As if I haven't spent countless times putting that expression on your face.”
He took another step forward.
“Lucifer—” you started, voice cracking.
Before you could say anything else, you felt Lilith’s hands slowly slide up your thighs beneath the heavy layers of the gown. Your entire body jolted.
Her breath ghosted hot against your still-sensitive pussy. Then her tongue — slow, deliberate, and utterly shameless — dragged lazily through your folds again.
You bit down hard on your lip to stifle a moan, fingers digging into the velvet cushions.
Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up. “Darling? You okay?”
“Y-Yes! Perfectly fine!” you squeaked, a little too high-pitched.
Under the gown, Lilith chuckled silently against your skin, the vibration making your hips twitch. She gave your clit a soft, teasing suck, clearly enjoying your struggle to keep a straight face.
Lucifer tilted his head, that mischievous grin widening. “You know… you’re looking exceptionally radiant right now. Almost like someone already got a head start on the wedding night.” He tapped his chin.
He took one more step closer, eyes sparkling with amusement and growing heat. “Lily,” he called out lightly, voice laced with laughter, “you can come out now. I can see the dress moving. Haven't you teased our soon-to-be bride enough?"
A few moments later, Lilith emerged from under the skirts, lips glistening, cheeks flushed, and a very satisfied smirk on her face.
“Still breathing, darling?” she teased softly, “You look absolutely ravishing when you come for me.”
You huffed in mock-anger, though the effect was ruined by the way your voice still trembled and your cheeks burned. “You are both impossible,” you grumbled.
As you tried to catch your breath, still flushed and hazy from your orgasm, you noticed the way Lucifer’s gaze had darkened. The queen had taken part in the feast, so how could the king resist?
You knew exactly what your fiancé was thinking.
“Oh no you don’t—” you started, half-laughing, half-protesting as you tried to escape. You twisted on the loveseat, turning over, gripping the curved wooden arms for leverage as you attempted to crawl away.
It was a very half-hearted escape.
Lucifer’s hands were on your waist in an instant. He pulled you right back against him with a low, delighted chuckle, your back pressing flush to his chest.
“Going somewhere, my love?” he murmured against your ear, voice rich with amusement and heat. His fingers dug into your hips through the layers of silk and lace, holding you in place. “After Lily got to enjoy such a sweet appetizer? That hardly seems fair.”
You shivered as he kissed the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
Lucifer’s hands slid lower, gathering handfuls of your skirts and slowly dragging them up the back of your thighs. You felt the cool air hit your still-sensitive, bare skin again as he pressed his growing hardness against your ass, grinding slowly.
You let out a shaky moan, gripping the arms of the loveseat tighter. “We’re going to be so late…” you protested weakly, even as you instinctively arched back into him.
“Fashionably late,” Lucifer corrected smoothly, nipping at your earlobe. One of his hands slipped beneath the bunched fabric, fingers teasing along your soaked folds.
He freed himself with a low groan and pressed the head of his cock against your slick entrance. “Forgive me, darling,” he murmured, “but I can’t wait another second.”
He thrust into you in one smooth, deep stroke, filling you completely. You cried out, gripping the arms of the loveseat as your body stretched around him.
Lucifer didn’t hold back. He set a steady rhythm, hips snapping against your ass with every thrust, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with your desperate moans.
At the same time, Lilith moved in front of you. She cupped your face with both hands, her golden eyes gleaming with wicked delight.
“Look at you,” she purred, voice dripping with teasing affection.
She leaned in and captured your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, swallowing every moan Lucifer pulled from you. When she pulled back, she trailed her lips down your jaw and latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave dark hickeys blooming across your skin.
Her hands slid down to your chest, tugging the front of your gown low enough to free your breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples
Lucifer growled, one hand tightening on your hip while the other reached around to rub your clit in tight circles.
“Fuck— you’re clenching around me so perfectly,” he groaned, pounding into you harder. “Taking me so well, our beautiful bride…”
You were lost in the overwhelming rhythm of Lucifer thrusting deep inside you when a sudden, hazy realization cut through the pleasure: Lilith had been devouring you earlier and teasing you relentlessly, but she hadn’t come yet.
That simply wouldn’t do.
With a needy, determined sound, you shifted forward on your hands and knees, reaching for her. You grabbed Lilith’s hips and pulled her closer. She didn’t resist at all — instead, she let out a pleased, surprised laugh and eagerly moved with you, spreading her thighs wider.
“Needy little bride,” she purred, voice husky with arousal.
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you tugged her panties aside with impatient fingers and buried your face between her thighs, dragging your tongue hungrily up her soaked folds.
Lilith moaned beautifully, one hand sinking into your hair as she held you against her. She was dripping wet, sweet and addictive on your tongue. You licked and sucked at her clit with the same fervor she’d shown you earlier, sliding your tongue inside her before focusing back on that sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Fuck… yes, just like that,” she gasped, hips rolling against your mouth.
Behind you, Lucifer’s rhythm faltered for a moment as he watched the scene unfold. The sight of both of you made him groan deeply, the sound raw and filthy.
“Fucking hell…” he breathed, his grip on your hips tightened almost bruisingly as he started fucking you deeper, clearly losing some of his usual control. “That’s our perfect girl.”
Every powerful thrust from Lucifer pushed your mouth firmer against Lilith’s pussy, making her moan louder. She kept one hand tangled in your hair, guiding you.
“You’re doing so well, darling,” Lilith praised breathlessly, her golden eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “You’re going to make me come all over that pretty face.”
You devoured Lilith with renewed hunger, sucking her clit between your lips and flicking your tongue rapidly while sliding two fingers deep inside her, curling them just the way you knew she loved. At the same time, Lucifer pounded into you harder, his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you with every stroke, his fingers rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit.
Lilith’s thighs began to tremble around your head, grinding against your mouth, her fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair.
Lucifer's hips snapped forward with sharp, deep thrusts, burying himself to the hilt again and again. “You feel too fucking good… both of you like this— I can’t hold back.”
You moaned loudly against Lilith’s clit, the vibrations pushing her right to the edge. Her back arched, eyes fluttering shut as she cried out.
Lilith came first with a beautiful, broken moan, her pussy clenching hard around your fingers as she flooded your tongue with her release. You kept licking her through it, greedy for every drop.
The sight and sound of Lilith coming on your face finally broke Lucifer. With a deep, guttural groan, he slammed into you one last time and came hard, pulsing deep inside you as his hips jerked with every thick spurt. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you flush against him while he filled you.
For a long moment, the only sounds were heavy breathing and soft, satisfied whimpers.
Lilith gently stroked your hair, still trembling slightly as she caught her breath. Lucifer leaned forward, pressing his forehead against your back, his cock still buried inside you as he placed lazy kisses along your spine.
“Seven Hells…” Lucifer murmured, voice hoarse. “You’re going to be the death of us.”
Lilith laughed breathlessly, cupping your flushed, glistening face. “And what a way to go.”
You were still shaking between them, thoroughly used and glowing with pleasure, your wedding gown a wrinkled, disheveled mess.
Eventually, Charlie discovered exactly what had happened, and neither Lucifer nor Lilith escaped the consequences. The two of them stood side by side while Charlie delivered a thoroughly deserved scolding, looking remarkably like children caught causing trouble rather than the rulers of Hell. Bee and Ozzie watched with undisguised amusement, clearly enjoying every second of their downfall. Meanwhile, you were utterly incapable of participating because you were unable to stand at all. Curled up on the couch, you could only watch as your future spouses endured their punishment, neither of them looking particularly apologetic. In fact, the occasional smug glance they exchanged suggested they considered the entire ordeal well worth it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
you chose your own dress cuz imagine if you let the lucilith go overboard and let them choose the dress on the wedding:
Lilith: money is no issue, our fiancée needs the BEST
The boutique owner: then i know the PERFECT gown for the bride!
I need more Lilith x reader at the pool/beach. Lilith casting a spell so she won’t be recognized. So, just the two of you lounging on the towels in your bikini’s. Just two pretty but innocuous girls. You won’t draw too much attention if you scootch a little closer right? Girls are naturally pretty touchy with their friends. If you adjust her bikini strap you’ll just look like you’re being nice. Oh? Is it time to apply more sun screen? Well you can help each other. No one will notice that Lilith is only using one hand to rub it into your skin. And the large beach bag is probably blocking the other’s view they probably can’t see Lilith’s fingers dip into your bottoms. And well, if you make a few pleasurable faces or sounds, Her Majesty is just really good at sunscreen back massages.
@///////@ semi-public fingering??? Yes please??
Oh, and it looks like she's whispering something in your ear. And you are looking rather... distressed. Onlookers certainly hope everything is okay over there~
"Lilith..." You gasp as she slips a second finger inside you. "s-someone will see...!"
"Hm? See what? I'm only helping you apply sun screen. What's wrong with that~?"
"Y-You're fingers-!"
"Oh that~ Well, don't make it look so obvious, then~" she laughs softly against your neck. Her fingertips brush against the sweet spot inside you and it earns her a shiver and a poorly restrained moan from you. She couldn't be more pleased. Lilith loves how sensitive you are to her touch. "your face is so red, petal. we should probably apply more sunscreen to those cheeks, huh~? Don't want you getting burned~"
Notes: takes place during pilot episode, so mostly Alastor is covered in this chapter. We will have lots of vox in next chapter promise!
CW: none, just some action scenes
Word Count: 3K
Part 1| Part 2| Part 3
Chapter Four: Back in Town
The Old Sectors of Pentagram City looked nothing like the polished districts most demons preferred to show off.
There were no shining billboards here. No glamorous clubs. No carefully maintained storefronts designed to lure customers inside.
Only decay.
Buildings leaned precariously against one another, their walls blackened from countless turf wars. Here, power changed hands weekly, sometimes daily. Small gangs fought over crumbling blocks of territory, only to lose them in the next shootout.
Buildings leaned at unnatural angles where explosives had torn through their foundations years ago, and nobody had bothered rebuilding. Smoke drifted lazily from shattered windows and ruined alleyways, adding to the permanent haze hanging over the district.
Somewhere in the distance, gunfire echoed. Nobody paid it any attention.
Life continued as normal.
Or perhaps unlife.
You stepped over a crack running through the pavement, your hands tucked behind your back as you walked through the chaos with surprising ease. Most demons gave you a wide berth.
It had been several months since Rosie's letter.
Several months since the disastrous Overlord Meeting.
The humiliation still stung if you thought about it long enough. Vox had found a loophole — he usually sent Valentino in his stead, but according to your sources, the moth was good in his habitat of pornography, and not in meetings.
Fortunately, recent events have provided a far more interesting distraction. You glanced toward the figure walking beside you.
Alastor looked entirely at home here.
The Radio Demon strolled through the ruined streets with his usual easy smile, cane tapping rhythmically against the pavement as though he was taking an afternoon walk through a pleasant park instead of one of the roughest sectors in Hell.
He had returned after seven years of complete disappearance with so little explanation that it almost felt insulting. You were naturally curious, but were smart enough to know the Radio Demon did not give secrets of his own without a hefty price. And as much as you respected and somewhat liked him, you were in no mood to make a deal with him, ever.
Strangely enough, nobody had made much of a fuss. Most sinners have forgotten him in his heyday. You, too, were not fortunate enough to witness that time yourself.
Around you, demons occasionally glanced in your direction. Most simply kept walking.
A few froze. Those were usually the older sinners, the ones who remembered.
One particularly unfortunate demon happened to look directly at Alastor.
The sinner immediately turned pale. Then he released a noise that was embarrassingly close to a shriek. "RADIO DEMON!"
The poor bastard practically tripped over himself turning around. A second later he was sprinting down the street in the opposite direction.
Alastor watched him leave, then waved politely. "Always lovely meeting fans."
These sectors belonged to him. Not officially, perhaps, but anyone with eyes could see it. Without Alastor's presence, the territory had become easy prey. Lesser sinners had moved in and carved out small pieces for themselves. Nobody possessed enough authority to unite the district, and nobody cared enough to spend resources rebuilding it.
Eventually, he guided you toward one of the few establishments in the district that appeared to be thriving.
A gambling hall.
The building stood out immediately. While everything around it seemed one strong gust of wind away from collapse, the hall was remarkably well maintained. Bright lights shone through the windows. Music drifted through the walls. Demons entered and exited through the front doors carrying drinks and stacks of chips.
Business was clearly good.
Alastor stopped at the entrance and looked toward the building with obvious satisfaction. "Ah. There we are."
You followed his gaze. "Planning to gamble?"
The question earned a laugh. "Goodness, no." His grin widened. "Someone inside owes me a favor."
Alastor adjusted his coat before turning toward you. "If you'd be so kind, my dear, wait here for a few moments."
You raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you doing in there?"
"Oh, collecting a debt." The way he said it made the process sound wonderfully simple. "As luck would have it, the gentleman in question happens to possess precisely the sort of resources I require."
His cane tapped lightly against the ground. "Funding, influence, construction crews. Everything necessary to return these sectors to their former glory."
The certainty in his voice only made you more doubtful. You folded your arms. "What if they don't agree quietly?"
For the first time since the conversation began, Alastor's eyes gleamed with something that made you reconsider asking the question.
Not concern and certainly not fear. If anything, he looked entertained.
The Radio Demon stepped closer and patted your back lightly. "Then I suggest you keep an eye on the rooftops."
You blinked. "The rooftops?"
His smile somehow grew wider. "I'll be back shortly, my dear."
That explained absolutely nothing.
Before you could ask another question, he simply turned and walked through the doors of the gambling hall. The music swallowed him immediately. A moment later the doors swung shut behind him, leaving you standing alone on the street.
With a small burst of power, you launched yourself upward, easily clearing the side of a nearby building before landing on the rooftop. A second jump carried you higher. Then another. Within moments, you were traversing the skyline with practiced ease, moving from rooftop to rooftop until you found a suitable vantage point overlooking the gambling hall.
You paused there and surveyed the surrounding area.
Nothing. "Huh."
After another few minutes of observation, you gradually relaxed. Perhaps this would be one of those rare occasions where everything actually went according to plan. Alastor would collect his favor, secure funding for the district, and emerge victorious without anyone being dismembered.
A novel concept, honestly.
You wandered toward the edge of the rooftop and rested your arms against a rusted railing. A cool gust of wind swept through the district, carrying strands of your hair across your face.
For the first time all afternoon, things felt peaceful.
You found yourself wondering what the district could become with proper investment. There was potential here. With enough funding, enough reconstruction, and enough stability—
The gambling hall exploded. The roar shattered the afternoon.
Fire erupted through the walls in a violent burst of orange and red, sending shattered glass and debris hurtling into the street below.
You jumped so hard you nearly fell off the rooftop. "What the—"
The rest of the sentence died in your throat.
Because a figure burst through the explosion. A massive deer-like silhouette emerged from the flames, towering over the street as green energy crackled around him. Antlers stretched toward the sky. His grin looked impossibly wide.
Alastor.
Or rather—
The version of Alastor that nightmares were probably based on.
You watched, mouth hanging open, as another figure came flying through what remained of the gambling hall's front wall.
The owner. At least, you assumed it was the owner. The poor bastard was sprinting for his life. The Radio Demon's laughter echoed through the streets as shadows erupted from the ground beneath his prey.
You stared at the unfolding chaos below. "...In hindsight, that should have been obvious."
The owner stumbled backwards through the street below, barely avoiding one of Alastor's shadowy tendrils as it tore through the pavement where he had been standing moments before. Despite looking one bad decision away from death, he somehow managed to find enough confidence to shout back over his shoulder.
"I was prepared for this!"
You frowned from your position on the rooftop. Prepared? For Alastor? That seemed optimistic. Then again, the man had managed to survive long enough to accumulate enough wealth to own the most successful gambling hall in the district, so perhaps he wasn't entirely stupid.
Before you could think about it any further, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind you. Your attention immediately shifted toward the rooftop access door. The footsteps grew louder and louder until the metal door burst open, revealing a flood of heavily armed demons.
The snipers charged onto the rooftop with purpose, weapons already in hand, only to come to an abrupt stop when they found you standing there.
For several awkward seconds, nobody moved.
One sniper looked at you. "Who's this bitch?"
Another looked over the edge of the building, caught sight of Alastor's giant demonic form terrorizing their employer several streets below, and visibly paled. "We aren't paid enough for this."
A surprising number of his coworkers nodded in agreement.
Their leader, however, was having none of it. He shoved his way through the group and pointed aggressively at the others. "Oh, come on! Think about the money, boys!" The reminder earned a few reluctant grunts.
With a casual shrug, you reached into your power and willed a weapon into existence. Metal materialized in your hands. A massive rocket launcher appeared with enough weight and firepower to immediately change the mood on the rooftop.
The reaction was priceless.
Several snipers lowered their weapons. One took a step backward. Their leader swallowed so hard that you could hear it from where you stood. "...Any chance you wanna buy us out?"
You smiled. "Nope. I don't like wasting money."
By the time you made your way back down to street level, the fight was already over. Not that there had been much of a fight to begin with.
As you approached, he pulled out his monocle and began polishing it with a handkerchief.
His grin widened when he noticed you. "Ah! There you are, my dear."
Before you could ask any further questions, Alastor’s green magic flickered and produced a large scroll.
The parchment looked old, expensive, and most importantly—
Signed.
Your eyebrows rose. "You got him to agree?"
"Naturally." Strange symbols briefly flashed across the parchment before the entire document dissolved into glowing emerald light.
You let out a long sigh. "Where to now?"
Alastor lifted his cane and lightly tapped one of the television screens on display. "To the Princess's hotel."
"Shall we?" He offered you his arm.
You accepted it. "You're not planning to blow up another building, are you?”
"My dear, I'm wounded that you'd even ask."
“Umm…Vaggie? The Media Overlords are here…?!”
*
Inside the Hazbin Hotel, introductions had not gone particularly smoothly. Vaggie had spent the better part of several minutes explaining exactly why the arrival of the Radio Demon was a catastrophic event.
Angel Dust, who had been sprawled across one of the sofas throughout the entire explanation, finally let out an exaggerated sigh. He rested an arm along the back of the couch and looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Ya done?"
Vaggie glared.
Angel snorted. "He looks like a strawberry pimp."
You had been standing quietly beside Alastor, listening to the conversation unfold between him and Charlie. Slowly, you turned your head toward the spider demon. Then, for reasons known only to yourself, you smiled.
The resemblance to Alastor's smile was immediate and deeply unsettling.
Angel physically recoiled. A shudder ran through him. "Oh, hell no." He pointed directly at you. "She's the scary one."
Your smile widened another fraction before turning back.
Vaggie glanced between you and Alastor before shrugging. "Honestly, nobody knows much about her."
That seemed to catch Angel's interest more than anything else he'd heard all day. He sat up straighter and looked directly at Vaggie. "So what's her deal?"
Vaggie thought about it. "She's close with both Cannibal Overlords."
"Wait. Why? Wouldn't she have more advantages if she threw her lot with the Vees?"
Vaggie simply shrugged. "Who knows how Overlords think? I've heard Alastor's kind of a mentor to her. Maybe she decided the older Overlords were a safer bet. They've all been around forever. Maybe she figured having them on her side would be useful."
Angel hummed thoughtfully.
"Or maybe," Vaggie continued, glancing between you and Alastor, "she wanted allies against Vox."
Angel immediately leaned in.
"Look," Vaggie lowered her voice further. "Rumor mill has it she doesn't get along with Vox. There are even rumors she plans to overthrow his influence."
"You actually buy that?"
Vaggie hesitated. "Maybe not overthrow him completely," she admitted. "But she's definitely cutting into his influence. Everyone knows that. Half the new technology popping up around Pentagram City has her name attached to it now."
Angel's grin widened. "You know what? I respect it."
After Alastor had finished dramatically introducing Husk and Niffty to the hotel—Charlie was practically glowing with excitement, Niffty had already vanished in pursuit of dust that likely didn't exist, and Husk had found the nearest bottle with efficiency.
You stood off to the side, watching the chaos unfold with mild amusement. The Radio Demon eventually drifted away from Charlie's enthusiastic explanations and made his way toward you. His smile remained exactly as wide as ever, but when he stopped beside you, his voice lowered enough that the others couldn't hear.
"My dear," he said pleasantly, "I wonder if I might request a small favor." His eyes briefly flicked toward one of the televisions sitting in the hotel lobby before returning to you. "Would it be possible to prevent interference from one particularly irritating picture box?"
You hummed thoughtfully. It was a reasonable concern. The moment Vox learned Alastor had attached himself to Charlie's little rehabilitation project, there was a good chance he would begin sticking his cameras and drones anywhere they could fit. The man had an almost unhealthy relationship with surveillance.
Unfortunately, security systems weren't exactly your area of expertise.
"I'm not particularly good with security," you admitted, crossing your arms as you considered the problem. "If he really wanted to hack into something, he'd probably manage it eventually."
Alastor inclined his head. "A fair assessment."
"However..."
That single word immediately caught his attention.
"I've been testing one of my newer inventions."
Alastor's eyes gleamed with interest.
"It releases a very specific type of static. Most demons can't hear it. The ones that can usually find it mildly annoying at worst. But VoxTech drones?" You laughed softly. "They absolutely hate it."
Now Alastor looked genuinely intrigued.
"The signal creates interference inside their systems. Cameras start glitching. Audio recordings become distorted. Sensors stop functioning properly. Most drones end up retreating automatically because their operating systems interpret the static as a malfunction."
The Radio Demon let out an appreciative hum. "How ingenious."
You shrugged. "I got tired of finding VoxTech equipment around my territory."
That was putting it mildly.
After years of dealing with Vox's attempts to monitor every successful Overlord in Pentagram City, you had eventually decided to create a solution yourself. The device had taken months to perfect, but the results had been worth it.
"So far, it's been incredibly effective," you continued. "Any drone running VoxTech hardware usually turns around and leaves within minutes. The static drives them absolutely insane."
"My dear," he said, placing a hand over his chest, "you continue to impress."
You rolled your eyes. "Don't sound so surprised."
"Perish the thought."
"I'll call over my technical team later," you said.
Alastor let out an approving hum at that. For a moment, he appeared content with the answer. "And would there happen to be something for an individual such as myself?"
You immediately laughed. You knew Al now well-enough that you came prepared for that request. You reached into your coat pocket and produced the device. A single mechanical eyeball. The iris rotated lazily inside its metallic casing, tiny gears clicking softly as it moved.
Stepping forward, you held out the device toward his microphone staff. The moment it came close, the eyeball twitched, then attached itself. The metallic iris simply melted into the surface of the staff before settling comfortably near the microphone head, as though it had always belonged there. "If a VoxTech camera tries to capture you, the image gets distorted. Facial recognition becomes useless—all of it gets scrambled."
The smile that spread across Alastor's face was positively radiant. "My dear, I believe this may be one of the most thoughtful gifts I've ever received."
"Don't get sentimental."
"I would never."
It still puzzled you sometimes.
Of all the places Alastor could have chosen to spend his time after returning to Hell, he had picked Charlie Morningstar's bizarre little rehabilitation project. A hotel dedicated to redeeming sinners.
The concept sounded ridiculous every time you thought about it.
And yet...
The hotel had become strangely comfortable. You found yourself stopping by more often than intended.
Sometimes for business. Sometimes to see Charlie. Mostly to share a drink with Alastor.
Which was exactly what had happened tonight.
You were already halfway through your second drink.
Maybe third.
The exact number had become somewhat blurry.
A pleasant warmth settled in your chest as you lazily swirled the contents of your glass.
Across from you, Alastor appeared as composed as ever. Which was deeply unfair.
The conversation drifted from topic to topic. Eventually, somehow, the subject landed on Vox. Your expression immediately soured.
You groaned.
"Oh, he's so fucking annoying." The words left your mouth with all the force of a deeply held grievance.
Alastor tilted his head, amusement danced openly in his eyes. "You neglected to explain what he did this time."
You stared at your glass.
Thinking.
Then finally looked back up.
"He breathes."
Alastor broke and doubled over laughing.
You took another sip of your drink and glared into the glass as though it had personally wronged you. "I mean it," you grumbled. "He's insufferable. AND Carmilla wants me to ‘collaborate’ with him?! As if! I would NEVER.”
"Madam... you've received an email from VoxTek."
You spat your coffee across the desk. "What?!"
The morning had been perfectly normal. Which, in retrospect, should have been your first warning.
"It appears to be from the CEO directly."
Neither of you seemed particularly happy about this development.
Finally, you pointed at the tablet. "Read it."
Salina immediately obeyed. She looked down at the screen and cleared her throat. "'To the esteemed Overlord—'"
"Skip the bullshit."
Salina nodded. "'VoxTek would like to formally invite you for discussions regarding a better future for both companies and the resolution of ongoing issues.'"
