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hiyashortking · 1 month ago

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Yes, Sir, That Is How Consent Works

Alternate titles: Dominating the Don; Don-imation

Ship: Vox/Reader; Reader is AFAB genderqueer. Reader has some Lute vibes if you squint so if you like a crack ship, that might actually work here too.

AU: Vox is a young mafia don

Summary: Reader is Vox’s personal assistant. Vox is into noncon, but Reader is not. Reader is traumatized by the experience, but ends up on top.

Kinks: noncon including strangulation, biting, bruising, etc.; kissing; dry-humping; direct and indirect mentions of violence

chatgpt drew him for me:

You are Vox’s new assistant and he pays you very well. Since starting to work for him, you’ve been able to pay off debts, help out family, and start to elevate your quality of life. You no longer had to hold back when you wanted a sandwich and a coffee from the deli, and you didn’t have to sacrifice heat or water to pay your rent.

His other employees scared you about working for Vox initially. He had a personal chef, several housekeepers, various chauffeurs, and a plethora of other employees who came to and from his mansion on a regular basis. Some of these folks talked to you, mostly the ones who were employed to serve him in some way. They warned you that his previous assistants didn’t last long, that they either disappeared without another word (how ominous!) or they were preoccupied with trying to make themselves his missus; men, women, and queers alike!

You Googled him before beginning the work, and thought a lot of the information looked shady. A salary was a salary, you were desperate, and there wasn’t shit you could do with your Bachelor’s degree. So off to the interview you went!

You were intimidated by him for sure. His smile, wide and toothy, felt more like a threat than an invitation. His words, even when appropriate or neutral, often felt just on the verge of sarcasm or passive aggression. He felt mean. He felt fake. You felt judged. You left the interview feeling foolish and a bit relieved, chastising yourself for thinking the next phase of your life could possibly include you working for, you were pretty certain after the interview, a fucking crime lord.

But he called you soon after your interview, while you were still on the bus heading home, and told you the job was yours.

The first few weeks, you were wary. It was all “yes, Sir,” this, and “yes, of course, Sir,” that. He guided you through what his daily requirements of you would be, simple things like email correspondences and general overseeing of the legitimate businesses he ran as cover-ups for the illegitimate ones. He would surprise you with questions that, to you, were obviously trick ones, and when you passed his tests his smile would border on proud, and then he gave you more responsibilities.

He insisted on a wardrobe change for you, explaining you were a reflection of him and he couldn’t have his assistant, he looked you up and down as he said this, looking like that.

Sometimes he used you to make people feel safer around him, instructing you on how to sit, when to cross or uncross your legs, and when to smile. You were there to make others think this was just a regular man doing business, look at how happy his personal assistant is!

He even had a nickname for you. He called you pixel or his little pixel. Hell if you knew why.

Then the weeks turned into months, and the two of you actually got along! Vox’s grin was often sinister, but equally as often he was playful and laughed with his entire body. He seemed to relax around you, or at least he no longer made you think he considered you ridiculous. You were able to have fun together. You had tons of inside jokes, some that made other employees roll their eyes at you both. You teased each other. He touched you constantly, a kiss on the hand, a fiddle with your hair, or even a short hug when something really went his way. Sometimes you hoped, deeper than you’d let yourself know, that he was proud of you for your work. Or that he even liked you as an employee, or a person.

And then sometimes you would see something alarming, like a bruise on his jawline, or a drop of blood on the carpet, and you would remember who the fuck you were working for. This wasn’t some doctor or plain ol’ oligarch CEO. In the time you’d known him, this man had probably had people’s bones broken. He probably had people killed or killed them himself. But your mundane brain would often forget this reality. If you didn’t see it or hear about it, your brain was incredible at pretending that part of his life wasn’t real.

* Then one evening, he called you upstairs. You’d been in his room plenty of times, to deliver some dry cleaning when there wasn’t a housekeeper around, or to grab a document from a locked compartment in his desk or closet. He wouldn’t want the house staff messing with these kinds of documents, as he would put it, so it made sense for this to be a task for you. You didn’t think anything of it, but when you entered the room, you were surprised by the sight of him resting on his bed, his back against the headboard and his long legs spread comfortably, one of them propped up on a pillow. Usually, he sat in a chair, walked around the spacious room, or would be complaining from his walk-in closet. You flinched when you saw him, feeling embarrassed and excited by the sight of him sitting up in his bed.

“Come here, pixel,” he used his special little nickname for you, fiddling with the remote to the flat screen that hung opposite his giant bed. But his eyes were on you from the moment you entered the room, and you couldn’t help feeling like you did the day you met him, like there was something happening you were unaware of. A joke that was on you.

Except this felt even more unnerving.

You stepped closer to the bed.

He bit down on his lip, and leered at you with narrowed eyes. The hand that had been fiddling with the remote just seconds earlier was now unzipping his pants.

Your body was so shocked, you turned and backed into the wall, your heart racing wildly, your mind filled with deafening noise, like back in the day when the color bars showed up on your TV screen when something was wrong with the signal.

His eyes slid up your body, and his smile was sinister. “Careful there, little pixel.” Your mind must have temporarily faded to black because in one breath he was off the bed and across the room, towering over you. He leaned back only to take another leer at the details of your body. “I don’t want my merchandise fucked up before I can ruin it myself.”

Your heart beat so intensely you thought it could burst through your chest. You could swear you felt your blood blocking your ability to hear, and yet you heard him loud and clear.

You put a hand on his chest and put the slightest bit of pressure on it to push him away. “Sir?” you asked him, and the word failed to portray the vastness of your confusion.

Vox didn’t budge from the pressure. Instead, he cupped your face in both of his large hands, tilting your chin up in a way that, following his previous statement, made you feel like an object instead of a person.

“S-sir, this isn’t appropriate. I-I work for you.” When recounting this moment later, you would be shocked by your own fucking bravery.

“Oh, but you are working for me, pixel,” he allowed himself to separate locks of your hair, running it through his fingers and seeming enchanted by the way it fell away from his hands. “You’re still on the clock. My personal assistant. And I do, so very much, require your assistance right now.”

You were scared.

You considered running.

Vox’s face was in your neck, inhaling the scent of you. He kissed your neck, sucked on it, and eventually bit it. It felt good at first, even through your fear, but he bit down harder and harder, reaching that point where the act was no longer sensual, but purely violent.

You made so much money working for him, and that kept you rooted to the spot. That thought, over and over again. Think of the money, think of the the money, the money, the money, the money. And it wasn’t like you weren’t attracted to him. You’d fantasized about him here and there, and maybe began to harbor a bit of a crush. But this behavior didn’t match any of your fantasies.

His hands were on you. One under your shirt and bra, and the other around you, pulling you close. You didn’t remember how they got there. It was like the events were happening in flashes, your mind turning on and off as if switching back and forth between TV channels. One of the channels was white noise and the other was Vox, preying on you. He twisted your nipple roughly and seemed to relish in your yelp of pain. He had a leg between both of yours, roughly pressing against you, making your vulva feel bruised.

You didn’t know when his hand returned to your neck. You became aware of it when he pressed upwards against your throat, making it slowly and increasingly more difficult for you to breathe.

You’d seen women and men leave the mansion before, wearing clothes they didn’t arrive in because, you would later learn from the mansion gossip, he tore their clothes off with his bare hands. At one point, he dated a young man consistently for a few weeks, long enough for you to witnesses the bruising on that man’s neck and other visible parts of his skin change from a lurid blue to a disgusting yellow. You knew he liked being rough, but you did not imagine this.

“I’m scared,” you were able to croak through his gentle strangling, your voice unsteady. A part of you wondered if you were even able to make those words loud enough for him to hear.

He looked mesmerized by what he was doing to you. His pupils were enormous, his nostrils were flared. You noticed even his breathing was ragged.

“Stop,” you heard yourself say, as if your mind and your words were yards away.

He blinked, and blinked again. As if his brain were buffering.

“Stop hurting me.”

He let go of your neck and immediately turned away from you.

You leaned forward, trying to recall how to breathe again, instinctively wrapping one arm around your stomach and putting the other hand protectively on your neck.

“My bad,” still turned away from you, he cracked his neck, which let you see the agitated tension in his jaw and on his brows. When he turned around again, you could swear he had a different face. He flashed you his fake wide grin and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure what came over me,” his words felt like an offer, like he was testing out his options for what to say as an excuse. “I like you so, very much, you see, and I’m used to getting what I like. That was my mistake, pixel. Usually, folks who look at me the way you do like the aggressive approach.”

At this point you were trying not to cry, taking deep, trembling breaths in and out.

“C-can I be alone for a moment?” you asked him.

There was only the slightest flinch of surprise in his expression, as if it were subliminal.

“Of course, pixel. I’ll go tell the ladies downstairs to make you some of that chai shit you’re always on about,” he said, and walked quickly out the door.

As soon as Vox was gone, you slid down the wall to the floor and hugged your legs, trembling wildly and crying into your knees.

That had been the single most terrifying experience of your life.

It took you maybe two hours to finally stand up and leave the room.

* You, of course, called out the next day. Your voice was hoarse when you told Vox you weren’t feeling well and wouldn’t be able to make it in.

The tension was palpable even through the phone as you spoke, but after a beat Vox said in his grand voice: “Of course, my little pixel, we can’t have you coming here not at your best. Take the whole week, darling. Take two! You work so hard for me.”

“Thank you, Sir,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. You would need at least that much time for the bruises to heal from your neck.

“And, pixel?”

You were scared of what he was going to say next. “Yes, Sir?”

“No harm will come to you on this property, ever again.”

“Sir?” you could barely say back, your tears falling now. You covered your trembling lip with the back of your hand, even though he couldn’t see you over the phone.

“I miscalculated, and I won’t make that mistake twice. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you believe me?”

You gulped, and when you did your throat hurt immensely. “No, Sir.”

He sighed. “I deserve that, I guess,” he mumbled the last bit before adding, “Do let me prove it to you, then. And I’ll have some things sent over to you while you’re out-”

“Sir!-”

“I don’t want to hear it. If I can’t kiss your ass in person, let me at least throw money at you. And I know you won’t tell me if you need anything, but you have my black card with you. Use it for absolutely anything. And, pixel-”

You waited.

“I hope your neck is okay.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Sir.”

You hung up while he was still talking.

* Every day over those two weeks, Vox had something sent over to you. Flowers and chocolates and baskets of treats. A new phone. Clothing. Gourmet meals. A new computer. Books from your fucking Amazon wishlist, signed, with personalized notes from the authors. He bought you a car, even though for months he insisted you use his drivers whenever you needed to go anywhere, and still had one parked outside of your building during your entire time off. He sent over a few women to give you a spa treatment, but you paid them generously and sent them away. At first, you rolled your eyes at his behavior, but after being inundated with it daily, you began to feel curious about the next gift. He was trying to Pavlovian distract you from remembering what he did, and the worst thing was, it was a tiny bit working.

When you finally went back, the door to his study was wide open and he wasn’t in there. Relieved, you settled yourself at his desk to answer emails. You were surprised to see he hadn’t touched a single fucking one while you were gone.

You heard him, arguing loudly on the phone, minutes before he even stepped foot through the door. He was always so loud in the mansion, not caring about what his staff overheard. He acted like a king that way, forgetting people were present, but unlike a king he rewarded his employees handsomely. “Valentino, I swear to-” he stopped when he saw you in his chair, his anger turning quickly to surprise and then glee. He lifted a finger as if you were about to interrupt his phone call (you weren’t). “Val- Val, I have to go. Get your shit together, baby, please. Yes, I’ll see you then.”

You had forgotten so many details about him while you were out. His wide grin, his long limbs, the way the tailored suits looked on his body, how his dark hair sometimes looked blue in certain light. When you thought of him over the past few days, you pictured him as ugly and sneering, and now you felt surprised to be reminded that he was handsome, bordering on cute.

“Welcome home, my little pixel,” he came over to you and sat on his desk as close to you as possible, causing you to push the chair away from the desk until it hit the windowed wall behind you.

He blinked, and then grinned again, obviously ignoring your display of fear.

“How are you feeling, darling? Do you want anything? Did you get all of the gifts I sent you? Do you like the car-”

You gulped, relieved it no longer hurt to do so, and tried to breathe regularly again. “I’m okay, Sir.”

He groaned and leaned back dramatically, often theatrical with his movements. “Ugh, enough with the Sirs! It can be really misleading you know,” he winked at you. “Might make a man think you actually consider him your superior.”

You narrowed your eyes, fear replaced by annoyance. “You are my superior, Vox. You’re literally my boss.”

“See, isn’t it nicer to just call me by my name?”

You sighed again, enjoying the irritation much more over the horror you experienced only seconds earlier.

He took one of your hands into both of his, causing the hair on your body to bristle. He leaned forward to nuzzle your hand against his face. “I am so relieved to have you back. I’m truly lost without you, you know?” he looked up from your hand, obviously attempting to feign some kind of puppy dog innocence.

“Alright, alright, Sir. Vox. Let’s just get back to work,” you took your hand from his and turned back to his computer. “There are almost 200 urgent emails I have to get to.”

“You’re the best,” he stood up and walked to the other side of the desk, settling down in one of the expensive cozy chairs he had there for the guests he didn’t hate. “And don’t worry about urgent; I fucking answer shit when I feel like it. We can’t have anyone thinking I’m not a busy man.” This was how your days typically went, with you in his chair most of the day, and him either fiddling with his phone across from you, pacing around the room yelling at someone on it, or sitting on his desk flirting with you.

It didn’t take too many days for you to fall back into the groove of everyday life. But whenever he moved, and especially when he came close to you, that moment in his bedroom would come screaming back to you. Then he would retreat and the dance would begin again with him charming you and distracting you. It was like he was trying to exposure therapy you back to normal.

You started having to take some anti-anxiety meds when he wasn’t looking, just to settle your nerves.

Finally, you decided you had to tell him to stop touching you. So after praising you for something you figured out in a financial report, when he placed a hand warmly on your shoulder, you pulled it off and did the thing.

“Vox, Sir. I don’t want you touching me anymore without consent.”

He blinked, and was gearing up to try to distract you again with his smile and his wit, but you were ahead of it.

“Sir, if you touch me again without asking, I will resign immediately.”

“Pixel-”

“I’m serious.”

He pouted, then furrowed his brows, then sighed deeply, and then it was as if he had an idea so bright it actually lit up his eyes from the inside. “Only without asking, right? But if I ask and you say yes, then it’s fine?”

“Yes, Sir,” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “That is how consent works.”

He ignored your snark, obviously delighted. “Okay, that will work! I can do that!”

You let your curiosity and growing comfort with him get the better of you and you kept the conversation going. “Sir, what the fuck got into you that night?”

Vox frowned. He actually looked sorry for a moment, or maybe you just wanted him to look that way. He quickly recovered with another of his wide grins; his mouth was so big and beautiful, it was enchanting. “I’ve been in this business since I was born, basically, you know, pixel. I’ve been spoiled. People usually throw themselves at me or if I decide I want them, they let me take them without a word. You’re the first person who has ever said no to me, and I have to be honest, I didn’t know that was even an option.”

“You didn’t know it was an option for someone to reject you?” He flinched at the word “reject,” and you decided not to be so cavalier with words for the rest of the conversation. He may have been kissing your ass for weeks, but he was still a powerful and dangerous man. It was one thing to be upset with him for hurting you, it would be another thing altogether to make him feel small. “I mean-” you tried to pivot, though several seconds had passed. “For someone to not want what you wanted the exact moment you wanted it?”

He smiled again. His emotional expressions changed so quickly, it was often unsettling. On his worst day, it made him seem insane. He disregarded your question. “You are attracted to me, though, of course, pixel?”

You were surprised that he actually formed the statement into a question, and you weren’t sure what to say. You left your lips parted.

“Pixel?” he encouraged, firmly.

“Sir, I don’t know if that’s approp-”

“We basically sit around here flirting with each other all day,” he pointed out, his voice at a low volume you didn’t know he was capable of, as if he was concerned any of the mansion staff might overhear him in a moment of something barely resembling vulnerability.

“Sir, you are a very eligible bachelor. Practically royalty. Any person would be lucky-”

He rose from the desk, causing your heart to start racing. He paced for a moment, and then closed the door to the study, and then paced some more. Sometimes you wondered if he was using cocaine when you weren’t looking. He must have been.

“Any person would be lucky,” he said with his sinister smile. “But you are the one who is lucky right now-”

You stood up, not knowing what to do with your hands as you did, so you just balled them up into fists at your sides. “You can’t intimidate me, either!” you said, probably too loudly.

He was surprised.

“You can’t touch me without consent, you can’t intimidate me with those mean fucking smiles, and you can’t ever, ever hurt me,” you told him, forgetting yourself. Your mind was full of that white noise again, your body having gone past fear and into dissociation. You could say anything to him and mean it when you were like this.

His face flashed with anger and then you could have sworn you saw embarrassment and regret, but you didn’t trust your interpretations. You wanted him to say it.

“And tell me that you’re sorry. Not ‘my bad’ or ‘my mistake’ or buy me a fucking car. Tell me you’re sorry that you strangled me against your bedroom wall and that you will spend the rest of our professional relationship making sure I never feel that scared ever again.”

He was in your face now in a flash, well, towering over you due to the height difference. He looked livid. “You don’t fucking tell me what to do. Who do you think-” He stopped. He breathed.

You’d seen him behave like this before, typically with his besties with benefits, Valentino and Velvette. With them, he would try to compose himself, and he was doing that now with you. It took a while, and the intensity between you was fucking electric.

“I’m sorry,” he said in that quiet tone you weren’t used to. “I misread you. You clearly don’t like being roughed up. I won’t do it again.” He shut his eyes before he was able to say the next part through gritted teeth: “Please, get over it.”

He was so ridiculous you couldn’t help but smile. “You mean, please forgive you.”

He opened his eyes to roll them and when he noticed you smiling, he seemed to relax a bit. He moved his hand but stopped himself from touching you. He rolled his eyes again, but didn’t ask to touch you. You wondered if he wouldn’t be able to handle it right then if you rejected him again.

“May I touch you?” you said, as if to demonstrate to him how it’s done.

He blinked, and blinked again. He did that thing he did with his head and neck, to release tension in his shoulders. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to hug you, okay?”

He nodded, but his expression was full of suspicion.

You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, and moved your body to press your face against his chest. He instinctively hugged you back and rested his chin on the top of your head. You felt him move his head to press his lips against the top of yours, before moving it again to press his cheek against it.

“You’re safe with me,” he told you. “I swear on my life.”

“Alright, Vox,” you said back.

“I still want to fuck you, though.”

With your arms still around him, you looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. Two could play the facial expressions game. “You do? I thought that was more of a wrong place wrong time wrong person kind of thing?”

“No, I want to fuck the shit out of you, pixel. And, like, regularly. For a while, at least.”

You laughed, even though you knew he was serious.

“What do you say?”

“I say you’re out of your fucking mind, Vox,” you laughed again.

With one arm still around you, his hand tenderly at the small of your back, he started playing with your hair again with his other hand. Sometimes you wondered, if it wasn’t cocaine he was on, maybe he had ADHD, or maybe the trauma from his work rewired his brain and imitated symptoms of ADHD (you took intro to psych in college which now made you obnoxious). “I think you’re attracted to me, too, pixel,” he told you, lost in the little pleasure of playing with your hair.

“Well, I do have eyes,” you tried to tease, but ended up pretty blatantly complimenting him instead.

“I wanted you the moment I met you, you know. It’s why I hired you. I’m lucky that you actually turned out not to be a fucking moron.”

“Ah, yes, lucky you I’m not the bimbo I look like,” you smiled, finally relaxing in his presence. You wanted to maintain this feeling of comfort. You never wanted to flinch at a sudden move of his again. A thought crossed your mind, and you decided to share it. “You know, maybe you had the right idea about just getting back into the swing of things and acting like nothing happened-”

“I know, I’m fucking brilliant, you should always-”

“I’m not finished!”

“Go on,” he deadpanned.

“I’m obviously fucking terrified of you now, so I’m thinking, what if we do some exposure therapy?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“It's when you go face the thing you're scared of. Maybe we could go to your bedroom and I could fuck you? I don't even have to dominate you, but I would need you to be still and let me be in control of the sex itself, not of you. That way I can replace the memory of your behavior with something safe. Maybe then my brain will cancel out what you did to me.”

He looked at you for a while, as if waiting for you to laugh or say you were kidding. “You’re serious?”

You did a kind of shrug-nod combo. “Maybe we could even just start with me sitting on top of you and kissing you with our clothes still on.”

In that strange way that he was able to move through space with ease as if he were more of an idea than a person, he was suddenly in his desk chair. “I can touch you now, right?” he asked, his hands reaching towards your legs.

You nodded.

He pulled up your pencil skirt so he could spread your legs and have you sit on top of him with a leg at each side. You chuckled at his adeptness with a pencil skirt, remembering all of the gossip about him having fucked most if not all of his assistants before you. And now that you knew he hired you with that goal in mind, you were even less surprised.

You took his hands and placed them on your hips. “You can start here,” you told him.

To your surprise, his intake of breath sounded shaky. He looked down at your hips as he let himself squeeze and fondle them. You confidently thought he’d probably wanted to touch them for a long time.

He looked up at you.

Slowly, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a soft peck of a kiss. You waited, and when he didn’t push your boundaries, you focused on the feel of his lips, brushing them with your plump ones gently. You parted your mouth only to take his lower lip in between yours softly, before releasing it. You leaned away, opening your eyes to check in with him. “Was that okay?” you asked, to set the tone and to check in with him. You could feel his cock getting harder against you and his pants.

“Yeah, keep going,” he urged.

You placed one hand on his neck, almost cupping it, and with the other cupped his cheek. You leaned in again to graze his lips with yours, only this time, you poked your tongue out ever so slightly to leave a gentle, teasing lick at the entrance of his mouth. You kept your eyes open, wanting to witness his reaction. His cheeks reddened. He seemed to instinctively open his mouth to try to slide his tongue against yours. You wanted to tease him slowly and patiently for the rest of the night, soaking in every single response.

You smiled, delighted by his restraint, especially after seeing the intensity in his gaze. You leaned in again to kiss him, allowing your tongue to enter his mouth this time, feeling almost electrified by the contact. You were more aware of your cunt now, as it was starting to respond favorably to these kisses. But you ended each one abruptly, loving the way he moved his body as if to follow you, and then restrained himself, fixing his posture. You delighted in hearing his natural, frustrated little growls, which you wondered if he even knew he was emitting. They were so low, they almost sounded like static.

Seeing his lust through his change in breathing, and hearing it in his sounds, you asked quietly, pressing your forehead against his: “Should we stop here?”

“No,” he said, with a tinge of something resembling anger in his tone.

You closed your eyes, your forehead still pressed against his. “I’m starting to become very aroused,” you admitted. “Would it be okay if I … grinded against you a bit? Just a teeny, tiny bit? Over our clothes?” You opened your eyes at the last question and involuntarily bit your lip before letting it go, waiting for his response.

“Uh huh,” he said, wrapping your legs around him expertly, clearly having had sex in this chair with someone in this position before. He slid his hands from your hips to your ass in a way that felt more helpful than sexual. You could tell he was having some sort of argument in his head, because he stopped his movement abruptly. “Are you waiting for an invitation, pixel?” you were happy he asked this with one of his kinder grins instead of the leer you’d seen on him weeks ago.

You shifted your weight on him to press your crotch harder against his and involuntarily let out a moan of satisfaction, enjoying the friction of the fabrics between your wet cunt and his straining cock. You ground against him, mouth open and starting to pant.

“Ohfuckyes,” he let out. He moved his hips to your pace, adding to the friction. “Don’t stop. Please. Keep grinding against me like that,” he was well versed in verbalizing his desires.

Listening to him plead was one of the most arousing experiences of your life. It sent shivers throughout your body, arousing the rest of you. You wanted him to beg and plead and whimper. Fuck, you wondered if this big, strong, rich, powerful man could whimper for you.

The sounds he was making were exquisite, your shared movements clearly bringing him close to his edge. You wondered if it was just his imagination of if he actually sounded needy, until he said “please, Y/N, I’m so close, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop- aahhhhhh.”

You were shocked by what just happened. You dry humped a fucking mafia boss until he came in his pants. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. You sat frozen in his lap, waiting and watching. You watched his climax wash over him, his groans so perfect it was almost as if he were singing to you. Spurts of hot semen soaked through his pants.

“Jesus, fuck. I’ve never come like that without being inside of someone. Holy shit. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

He’d never dry humped before? Oh yeah, he was basically royalty. He’d probably been coming inside of orifices as soon as he fucking wanted to, unlike the rest of us peons.

You rose from his lap and sat on his desk, catching your breath and giving your body time to reach some semblance of homeostasis. You felt so beautiful and sexy and powerful for what you’d just accomplished.

“What do you want for aftercare,” you asked him, “before or after you, uh, clean up?” You tried to suppress a smile.

He blinked. “Aftercare? What the fuck is that?”

You waited for the punch line, and frowned when it didn’t arrive. “You hurt people in bed and don’t give them aftercare?”

“What’s that, like, cuddling or some shit?”

You let out a kind of laugh-scoff of surprise.

His hand was in your hair again. “I guess a reassuring word wouldn’t hurt,” he said in that shockingly quiet voice again.

You leaned forward to press your forehead to his, feeling a little off balance since you were now on his desk, significantly higher than him, and whispered: “I feel really happy that we did that. You were very sexy. I haven’t felt that aroused in years.”

“Fuck yeah,” he said to himself, suddenly reminding you that as terrifying as he could be, deep down he could also be a regular dude. “Oh, uh, what about you, for the aftercare shit?”

“I usually like some kind of praise. What you liked about what we did, or how you just plain don’t hate me, you know, regular shit” you feigned nonchalance because being vulnerable and asking for reassurance was not an option you fucked with today.

First he focused on taking off his pants and briefs and grabbing some sweats from a gym bag he kept nearby. He had a gun in there too, but those were the things you didn’t let yourself know. You looked out the window onto the beautiful garden outside that only made sense for the backyard of a mansion. He threw his probably very expensive pants into the trash can. You glanced at the designer label on them and rolled your eyes.

“What, I have dozens of them? I’m not getting jizz dry-cleaned. Now hold my hand, I’m going to take you upstairs to exposure you to my bedroom and praise the fuck out of you.”

You hesitated.

“Come on, it’s hand-holding. I basically live in public, people will see me holding your hand all of the way to my room. It’s practically a declaration. You should feel flattered, really.”

You didn’t want to ask what it was a declaration of, and put your hand in his. He almost dragged you upstairs, saying goodnight, even though the sun was still out, to some body guards and a housekeeper who was carrying an empty laundry basket.

When you made it to his room, he stepped through his walk-in closet over to where his bathroom was. “I’ll be back in a moment- unless you want to join me for a quick shower?”

You shook your head, sitting down on his bed and taking the remote from the middle of it. Vox was always watching TV in bed. You started up one of your favorite animated musicals, one of the ones you knew by heart, and lied down and closed your eyes. You were safe now, you decided to believe him, and drifted off to sleep.

#hazbin hotel vox/you #vox/reader #vox/you #vox fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin mafia au

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love-at-first-sight-23 · 10 months ago

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Welcome to the world of “Being in love with a person who doesn’t exist in real life but you pretend they do anyway because you’re obsessed” ✧˖*°࿐

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nifftyisgonnakillu · 1 year ago

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LGBT stands for Let’s Get Blitzo Therapy

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silasours · 1 year ago

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ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

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voxsremotec0ck · 1 year ago

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𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞.ᐟ

⋆｡ﾟYou, new to Hell and clueless about everything, pass them on the street and give them a polite smile and wave ﾟ｡⋆

— Lucifer, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust

Lucifer watches as you shine your sharp teeth at him in a genuine smile with furrowed eyebrows. When he noticed you waving, he awkwardly waves back with his cane and watches you walk away. After his years of isolation, his name has definitely lost a lot of weight, but still sinners don’t just casually wave and smile at him. How odd.

Alastor meets your smile with his own, although it’s his default expression, it does grow at the sight of you. What was someone so cheery and naive doing in Hell? And smiling at him of all Demons, like he was just any other sinner? Oh you might just be a perfect asset for Charlie’s hotel.

Vox flashes you his signature showmanship smile, but pauses when you just walk past him. Normally when someone smiles and waves at him, they want something. Either information about VoxTec or the Vee’s plans, he was always selling something. Yet you waved and kept walking, like you didn’t even know who he was. It was interesting to say the least.

Angel Dust is used to attention, wanted or otherwise, so random Demons waving and smiling at him were normal. What wasn’t normal was the lack of malice behind your smile, and the fact that you kept walking instead of trying to buy him for the night. He watched you continue down the street and wondered just how soon Charlie would snatch you up.

First time writing for these characters so I hope it’s okay

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #alastor #lucifer morningstar #vox #angel dust #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #angel dust x reader #vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader

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genderlessdude92 · 1 year ago

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this is probably what Vox would do if shining a bright flash of light at Val doesn’t work 💀

meow

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jazzmasternot · 1 year ago

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Vox came to me in a dream and told me to post this.

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helluvapoison · 1 year ago

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Possessive

how the overlords would put a claim on you

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Carmilla Carmine ⁎⁺˳✧༚

As much as she loves spending her mornings in bed with you, wishfully thinking she could stay there all day, she can only give you 3 more minutes at best. Being an Overlord and a CEO keeps her rather busy. You’re grown, you can handle yourself (you have to in this world) she’s not keeping tabs on your whereabouts. Carmilla isn’t itching for a fight like these new “up and comers”. Giving you something to protect you when she’s not around simultaneously puts a target on your back. A simple ring with her name inscribed would suffice, satisfying any possessive vices she may or may not have

˚✧₊⁎ Zestial ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Abhorrent is jealousy, driving the younger generations to filth like, ugh, hickeys. Although, on a certain level he does understand. Being in Hell for as long as he has and alone the same amount, he knows all too well the primal need to claim what other’s might steal. One must leave their mark as a warning sign for others. Zestial’s exceptionally charming when he wants something, notably not asking when he presents you with the crisply wrapped gifts. There’s no less than twenty. Boxes upon boxes of accessories and clothes that suit you but hold his color palette, spider and web details to boot. He’s utterly thrilled when you wear them, showering you in compliments and declaring himself the luckiest soul in Hell

˚✧₊⁎ Rosie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Goodness, have you seen how sinners nowadays go about the whole ordeal? What happened to romance!? Call her old fashioned, but Rosie likes a smidge of glamour in her techniques! She’ll walk shoulder to shoulder with you, holding her parasail over the both of you. She’ll accidentally press her painted lips on your cheek and forget, quickly getting swept up into conversation with someone or the other. It’s fine, no one would question her! Not if they wanted to live anyways. Butterflies swarm her stomach when she notices you haven’t wiped her imprint away, a proud smile spreading across her face. It becomes purposeful as the days go on

˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

While happy to broadcast newsworthy exploits, sharing his private affairs with the world is out of the question. Of course the appeal of it all isn’t lost on him, he merely doesn’t see the point. Why broaden your horizons of potential dangers by claiming you publicly? To calm that unruly, covetous alien in the pit of his chest? He’s not that selfish! Besides, nothing less than something permanent could truly satisfy him anyhow

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

If he doesn’t have eyes on you, he’s working. Those measley hours apart won’t stop him from reminding all of Hell you still belong to him. He doesn’t trust anyone down here. He’ll convince you it’s for your safety that he tightens the collar around your neck. With a hum of approval, Val’s long and slender fingers twist the tag with his name on it. Heart shaped, of course, he loves you after all!

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Only the insecure need to put a claim on their person. That’s not Vox, no way! You’re never really out of his sights anyways, what with today’s power of technology and all! The need to brand you goes a different route. He wants everyone to know you’re spoken for, pulling you on camera every chance he gets. He wants them to stare in awe and envy but cast their eyes down when you walk by in public. A slight on you would be a slight on him personally and no one messes with The Vees

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Truthfully, there isn’t much she wouldn’t do. You’re all over her Sinstagram and that says it all. Every runway show, every red carpet walk, every paparazzi shot you’re always beside her. Vel dresses you left and right to match her OOTD somehow. She snaps a pic every single day (sometimes more) to show her followers their favorite couple is thriving and stylish as always! The description never fails to scream how your all hers

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angelltheninth · 5 months ago

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Hazbin Characters + How They Sleep

Pairing: Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Adam, Vox, Valentino x Reader

Tags: sfw, cuddles, literal sleeping together, wings, tail shenanigans, horns, possessiveness, kissing, established relationship

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Idea I had while talking with @massivementalitynut. had to write it because the idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Alastor begins with sleeping on opposite sides of the bed but as your relationship progresses he allows you to get closer and closer. But not to fully cuddle with him unless he initiates it. The most he will allow you to do is hold his hand while you sleep. Anything else must be on his terms.

Lucifer always wraps his wings around you like they're a huge fluffy blanket. Since he's a bit touch starved right now he is very clingy in his sleep, always seeking you out and kissing you lazily. Actually prefers to be the big spoon when sleeping because he never knows when his horns might pop out, so it's safer for you.

Charlie wraps her tail around your thigh when you go to bed. It's a possessive gesture that she used to apologize for many times until you told you that you like knowing she thinks of you as her beloved. Since then she's never shied away from it, even using her tail to pull you in closer when you have, in her mind, gone to far away on the bed, even though you never do go that far.

Vaggie fought against being the little spoon when you slept together. She had a reputation to uphold and she was worried that you might make fun of her if she acted too cute, little did she know that her cuteness was actually one of her greatest weapons. Eventually she did accept it but she still kept her spear near by and her arms tightly locked around your middle.

Angel Dust sleeps on his back, head turned away from you but always has two arms thrown over you. He wants to be able to get you close if he wants to and doesn't mind if you end up on top of him and using his chest floof as a pillow. Why not let you do that when both of you know that he is much softer and better then the pillows you do have, and this pillow will also kiss you any time you want.

Husk never holds back a purr when you have your arm thrown just below his wings, scratching his back. It's rare that he shows you his stomach while he sleeps but that's not your fault, he has to trust you a bit more first. But just the fact that he's letting you hear him purring and isn't denying it is a huge step in your relationship and shows the amount of trust that he already has in you.

Adam takes op the whole bed as his wings fan out and push you off. He yawns like he's bored when you complain about his sleeping habits and really doesn't feel like getting into an argument over it. Eventually he does tell you to get on top of him, in a kind of dismissive tone but then as soon as you are on top of him he grabs you and holds you close to him, so you don't fall again.

Vox doesn't need that much sleep actually but he likes the idea of having you close to him while he does. In fact he can sleep in his chair, with the cables charging him up faster and you sitting in his lap while you wait for him. Occasionally his screen with flicker back on, eyes unfocused for a bit until they land on you and he grins, giving you a quick kiss and telling you he's almost done.

Valentino cocoons you with his wings, almost trapping you against his body, in his bed, in his arms. Kissing you and making you gasp early in the morning is the best way for him to fully wake up and get ready to start his day. His four hands are always touching you in some way, one holding your hand, one on the back of your head, one around your waist, and one on your thigh.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #adam x reader #vox x reader #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x you #x reader

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hazblog-hoetells · 1 year ago

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stupid ass hazbin hotel tv man i need him carnally. I need him in my lap so i can kiss him forever i need to smack him around a little bit i NEED to take him out to dinner

#vox x reader #vox/reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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midascrow · 1 year ago

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(Insert Voxtech catchphrase)🍓📱

Insta:Midas.S.Crow

#hazbin hotel #fanart #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin art #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox fanart #vox x reader

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hiyashortking · 8 months ago

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I’m Surrounded By the Inane and Uninformed

Prompt: I wrote this for @voxtekinc discord server’s week 1 writing prompt of I’m Surrounded By.

Pairings: Vox/you and Vox/Velvette/Valentino ENM poly triad

Summary: Vox very slowly gains interest in the stranger he sits next to on a bench at a park, AKA You/Reader. Only one smutty comment near the end, otherwise this is just torturous slow burn Vox POV? Ends unhappily, for you masochists in the back. Let me know if you want a part 2 because I'll probably write one.

Velvette, Vox, and Valentino were in rare moods that first Friday night. Having dealt with another week of putting out fires, managing their companies, and various personal and professional disappointments, the triad was grumpy and exhausted. Velvette scrolled through social media while Valentino sext one of his side bitches, but Vox was feeling too restless to even engage in his favorite pastime, watching TV.

“I’m going for a fucking walk, or something,” he jumped up from the couch and left the penthouse apartment before his partners could react.

It was night in Hell, as if you could even distinguish night from day. In the area where the V’s worked and resided, the environment was loud and awake no matter what “time” it was. Vox usually loved this, starved as he was for information and entertainment, but tonight he felt annoyed by all of it. He wanted to find somewhere peaceful and barren, where he could see and experience nothing. He didn’t know if Hell even had such a place, but he decided to try to find it anyway. They had fucking parks, didn’t they? Maybe he needed to, as the humans said, touch grass? Did Hell have grass?

He strolled on into a nearby “park”, if you could even call it that. There were hellspawn youths shooting up heroin in the front, and demons fucking in bushes. He kept walking and passing by various forms of degeneracy, until finally he was far enough inside to only hear a gentle buzzing of the city noise. He found a bench and a clearing, just like he had imagined, except there was someone already sitting on the bench.

You.

He man-spread his long legs as he sat beside you on the bench, not giving a single fuck if you minded. In his perception, you were the one intruding on his space, even though you’d clearly been there first. What the fuck did he care? It was a Friday night. He didn’t have to care about anything or anyone but himself for the next several hours. Technically he had to care about his two live-in partners, but he didn’t have to do that until he went back home.

He exhaled and relaxed into the bench, feeling suddenly, what, happy? Did he feel happy? What the fuck?

He took another deep breath and was pleasantly surprised that the stench of Hell was harder to discern, as he got a huge whiff of whatever you smelled of. Was it, fuck, vanilla bean? He wanted to feel disgusted by this information, but instead found it adding to his pleasure and relaxation. He grimaced anyway, but only because it made him feel safer to feign displeasure.

So here you were, in his cozy peaceful spot, on his night, sitting quietly, taking up very little space on his bench, and you had the audacity to smell like sweet, delicious vanilla bean?

He didn’t know who the fuck you were, but he hated you.

After a few hours of sitting in silence together, gazing out into nothing and not at all thinking this was creepy or weird, you stood up, stretched your arms over your head, and left.

The following Friday, though he was not in a shitty mood this time, he found himself coming back to the park and looking for you- uh, looking for the spot. You were there again, he quietly groaned to himself before stepping over and sitting down. He wasn’t trying to hide the groan from you or anything, he just, didn’t want to be that loud, okay? This was his quiet place, and he didn’t even want to hear himself in it, that’s all. It wasn’t about you or how you felt or whatever.

The Friday after that, he found himself looking at his watch all day, and fantasizing about vanilla. He had a vanilla scone for breakfast, and a vanilla latte during a break, and after dinner he had some vanilla bean gelato. Your smell must have sparked some kind of very normal craving for him, the way his own advertisements implanted ideas in people’s heads. That’s all that was, he assured himself- errr, he knew. He knew for certain.

To his great annoyance, he started noticing things about you. You were always there when he was, uninvited and so fucking rude just sitting there relaxing, your legs only very slightly spread, your hands with your palms up at your sides, as if you were fucking meditating or something, your muscles clearly unclenched. He noticed how you styled your hair, the clothes you wore, the color of your eyes. Not that he fucking cared or anything! He just noticed shit, okay? You were just there. Against his permission. He didn’t want you to be there.

And he may have sent some of his underlings to check if you were ever there at any other time. You weren’t. You were probably stalking him or something else utterly pathetic. Your underlings told you where you worked and where you fucking lived and he could not believe it, the fucking Hazbin Hotel. He was mad at you for weeks when he first learned that shitty piece of news.

Many Fridays into this relation— interaction? he thought he wanted to bring something. A snack or maybe a drink of some kind? He didn’t want a fucking picnic or any shit like that, obviously, but maybe it would be nice to have a beverage while you were out there, invading on his space like you did every fucking week. But what to bring you? He’d never seen you eat or drink anything. What did you fucking like?

Not that it mattered or anything!!!!vdkohvpwqffqjeg;g;

He ended up bringing nothing, but cleared his throat once he sat down with you, and asked, “do you like fucking coffee or tea or some shit?”

He didn’t look at you, but he sensed you turning your head and looking at him. He wasn’t anticipating hearing your voice for the first time. He didn’t care about how you reacted to him. His pulse wasn’t racing and he wasn’t starting to sweat. This was a perfectly normal exchange. If anything, he was gracing you with his attention, even though you did not deserve it in the slightest. After all, you were sitting in his fucking space.

“I’m going through a chai phase right now,” you told him.

Your voice was soprano for certain, high and what he imagined those angel motherfuckers sounded like. You sounded like bells or if the sparkles emoji had a sound. He was shivering. Was it getting colder? Did he feel temperature? What a weird sensation. He cleared this throat again, and didn’t say another word that night.

But he woke up after dreams of bells and glitter, clouds and twinkly lights, and the pungent, magnificent, overwhelming smell of vanilla, with a salivation-inducing taste of chai. His bedsheets were wet with his come.

“Where are you going?” Valentino asked him the following Friday, as Vox placed a pick-up order for two basic bitch chais from the coffee shop on the way to the park.

“Where have you been going every fucking Friday?” Velvette added.

Vox looked up from his phone, standing at the door, and turned around, as if struggling to place the other V’s. Somehow, he didn’t think they would ask or notice his little excursions. Velvette was always on her fucking phone, and Valentino was always doing something or someone. They still spent so much time together, every day, and every week. They fucked, made love sometimes, talked, ate together, and took care of one another. They were mean but they were friends and they were family and they belonged together.

But Vox didn’t want to share you with them. He was suddenly overcome by the idea that they would ruin this. That they would somehow take you away. What? Not take you away. That would be ridiculous. He didn’t care about you. It was … the park! He didn’t want them to interfere with the park.

He leaned against the open doorway and feigned boredom. “I’ve been doing some cardio on Fridays, I thought I told you,” he said.

The other V’s looked at each other, and then again at him.

“I’ve been going on walks?” he didn’t know why he added an inflection to his statement. “Every Friday? Did y’all only fucking notice today, you self-centered-”

“Who are you fucking, you lying piece of-” Velvette jumped out of her seat in his direction, and Valentino pulled her back, stood up, and held her close.

“Darling, we are just making sure you know that you can tell us anything,” Valentino purred, petting Velvette’s head, which did not help her look any less angry. “You usually don’t hide any side pieces from us. We were wondering if this was getting serious, if maybe you wanted to introduce us to your new beau.”

Vox looked at his partners and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t been sleeping with anyone but them. He hadn’t been cheating, had he? Definitely not physically. What- of course he hadn’t been cheating! He hadn’t done anything!

“I haven’t fucked anyone you don’t know about,” he crossed his arms and furrowed his brows, like a pouting child.

“You’re LYING,” Velvette accused.

“Ssshh, sshh, amorcita, please, let him explain,” Valentino urged Velvette.

Vox sighed in resignation, hating seeing how he was making his lover, possible both his lovers feel. “I’m not fucking or even dating anyone. I’ve been going on walks and sitting in the park with someone. We haven’t even spoken to each other but once,” he confessed, dissociating, willing to give up his new treasure- er, companion- uhhh, acquaintance, if it made his partners feel at ease.

Both of the other V’s stood in silence.

“I believe you, darling,” Valentino finally said.

Velvette got out from Valentino’s arms and sat back down in her seat, immediately returning to scrolling. “Next time don’t take fucking months to tell us, fuckface. It’s called ethical non-monogamy. I want to know if you so much as give your number to another bitch.”

Valentino smiled and walked over to Vox, taking him into his arms and kissing his television screen forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Vox whispered to Valentino, and then said loudly while looking over at Velvette, “I’m sorry!” he repeated.

Velvette flipped him off while saying, “thank you, and it’s okay.”

“I didn’t see this as anything. I didn’t think it was important to tell you.”

Valentino’s phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket but didn’t check it just yet. “Of course, our precious man. How can you tell us you’re having a tryst when you haven’t even started?”

Valentino and Velvette appeared satisfied, and returned to what they were doing prior to this conversation.

Instead of leaving the apartment, Vox closed the front door and started walking to his room. It was too late to cancel the coffee order, so he text two of his night staff that they could go have it.

Turning off his brain as only a man with a television for a head could do, he didn’t allow himself to think about you that night. Or the following Friday, or the Friday after that …

#vox #hazbin hotel vox #the vs #hazbin vs #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #vox/reader #hazbin hotel vox/reader #vox/you #hazbin hotel vox/you

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nmakii · 1 year ago

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GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT… LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE

— alastor + lucifer + vox getting caught with lipstick stains all over them…

— generally gn!reader. guys can wear lipstick too smh

hehe i got a new lip tint (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) maybe alastor’s part is a little self-projected

— alastor

alastor himself isn’t one for physical affection. in fact, the thought itself makes him feel dirty. someone else’s skin against his… eugh…

though, when it came to you, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself; hands clawing and playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around your neck, pinching your cute cheeks, holding your hand… it’s almost as if he’d double-die without you near!

and the only thing he’d enjoy more than that would be having his affection reciprocated; interlocking your arm with his, a surprise hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, they are all more than appreciated! especially the thing about kissing…

a kiss from you is simply just exhilarating. the suddenness yet sweetness of it, it’s truly the purest form of love, regardless of if it’s familial, romantic, or platonic— it’s the purest expression of your love for another person.

so, just imagine alastor’s reaction to your new lipstick, strawberry red to give your lips a glossy color, yet still light enough to appear natural. the pretty hue of red complimenting your face features perfectly by giving it the color it needs as to not appear pale.

absolutely gorgeous. so confusing how a simple amount of color could make you look as if you were an angel from heaven itself. you quite literally took his breath away from just applying a new lipstick…

at some point, alastor had reached some sort of limit when he finally caved into his inner desires, bringing you to a secluded place in the hotel, his hands moving to your hips and hair.

he couldn’t wait any longer to place his lips on your’s, your lipstick smearing all over his thin lips. kissing him from his cheeks to his jawline, leaving light pink stains all over his skin.

he groaned at the feeling of wet lipstick all over his face, and at the same time reveled in the ways you are telling everyone that the only one who could see the radio demon in such a needy and doe-like state would be you; he’d be yours to fool around with, and yours to do however you’d see fit. just as you are his— no one else’s. the smeared lipstick on the side of your lips should send that as a statement enough to whatever lowlife hooligan would even attempt to sweep you off your feet.

when the two of you had returned, it was a strange sight to say the least… alastor’s face and jaw covered with pink lips, and you with your lipstick smudged and smeared off your lips, instead all over you neck.

“well, uh… you two look like ‘ya had lot’sa fun…” angel said monotonously, awkwardly trying to keep up conversation. “ohh, most certainly!” alastor grinned, his transatlantic accent popping through the radio static.

he knows he could’ve wiped it off… he has a handkerchief in his back pocket, he could’ve easily saved himself that awkward conversation.

but, he didn’t.

could you blame him? he wants all of hell to know that both you and him off-limits for good.

— lucifer

when many imagine the king of hell, it’s hard to think he’d be a social piranha. the same case had gone for you.

who knew lucifer was still as pure of heart as he was during his time in heaven? and who knew he’d fall for someone so easily after the sudden disappearance of his wife?

when he saw you, it was practically love at first sight! your big eyes, your shiny hair, and those big pretty lips of yours that he just wanted to kiss so badly…

he listened carefully as charlie introduced you to him, trying to remember every detail about you and every feature on your face, stuttering over his words once it was time to speak for himself.

and somehow, despite his meekness towards you and your awkwardness whenever he was around, you two ended up in a relationship— with the help of vaggie and charlie’s meddling in pushing you two together.

the two of you loved each other, of course… but it was always hard to express. the only way lucifer knew how to show his love was through his presence and gifts. he wasn’t hell’s greatest kisser, but he tries.

and, today— it was your 5 month anniversary… quite a long time, the hotel’s been good so far, no major threats other than one of cherri bomb’s occasional explosions. and because of how long it’s been, you decided to do something a little special… put on some relatively expensive clothes and make-up your face a little bit.

when lucifer saw you all dolled up, he was honestly a little stunned. lips as red as an apple, hair as soft as silk, the words were stuck in his mouth. “w- er- wow..! i’m not dressed up or anything— agh, this is awkward..” lucifer muttered. “hey, it’s ok… this was a surprise for you, y’know?” you said, comforting him slightly.

“you look… stunning today” he smiled, carefully putting down his anniversary present for you on his work desk, still wrapped in a red ribbon. he made his way to you, hands making their way to your cheeks to softly cup them as he gently leaned into you for a kiss.

he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as you kissed his face all over, as if healing the wounds of his past with his present. his banishment into hell, lilith’s abandonment, they all didn’t matter anymore, you are the present and the future.

he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug as he kissed your forehead, the residual lipstick from his lips smeared onto you.

lucifer laughed awkwardly before using his finger to carefully rub off the pink stains on your forehead. “haha… c’mon, i got a dinner reservation in the lust ring tonight…” he laughed, interlocking his arm with yours.

“don’t you wanna take off that lipstick on your face first?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “i mean… i dont minddd… so, it’s only if you wanna take if off” his eyes wandered, his cheeks growing flustered “hmm… nah. i want everyone to know you belong to me now.” you grinned mischievously.

and when the two of you walked out of the hotel lobby, charlie went to wish you a safe trip and happy anniversary before she noticed the stains on her dad’s face. “err… dad..? you gotta a little something there…” charlie muttered as she pointed all over his face. “ah..? yeah, i know” he laughed it off, proudly showing off to hell how hopelessly devoted he is to you.

— vox

vox was a busy man. from having many public appearances, to coming up with new ideas for voxtek, to putting out valentino’s temper tantrums, he barely had the time for romance.

barely. he loved you, truly. he keeps you dear to his heart, no matter how busy he’d be, vox would still make time for you late at night.

everyone had known you, why wouldn’t they? you’re the partner of one of the most influential overlords in hell, that’s a feat that is amazing to accomplish, dating vox in itself has made you into a sort of local celebrity; causing you to be invited to many galas, parties, and occasional raves.

and tonight happened to be the night of one of those parties. zestial had invited you to a formal dinner party, an all star guest list filled by many of the goetic princes, various overlords in hell, and other local hellborns such as verosika mayday.

“please, voxxx? just this once, it’s only like 3 hours!” you grumble as your apply a coat of ruby red over your lips, checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror. “i can’t.. i have a 5:00 with val and velvette, then after that, a board meeting about new gadgets to release…” vox groaned, already pissed about the day ahead.

“fine then, your loss.” you pouted, rolling your eyes as you left the bathroom and into the bedroom. “holy shit…” vox sighed out. “you look… really good, my love.” he walked over to you, his hands moving to your body, outlining the clothes’ stitching as he recognized it to be the one he had custom-made for you.

your hands rested on vox’s shoulders, forcibly making him lean over a bit before leaving various kiss stains all over his screen.

vox visibly tensed as his screen started glowing a bright teal, showing his clear embarrassment as pink smudges fogged his screen.

his breath heaved as his hands moved all around your body, desperate to find some kind of relief to his pent-up stress.

ending your kiss attack all too soon on his lips, you pulled away, your lips slightly pale now as you grinned at him. “spend the day looking like that and i’ll give you more after work” you winked, taking your belongings and leaving out the door, leaving a flustered vox in your bedroom, covered with lipstick stains.

“vox… the fuck is going on with your face?” velvette snarled. “it looks as if you got fucking mauled by a bear pretending to be a woman.” she yelled, her british accent making her trip over some consonants.

vox sighed, hearing valentino mutter some sort of dirty comparison of vox to a prostitute. “instead of focusing on me, why don’t you put your efforts into our agenda today?” vox frowned, his tone clearly saying that he’s holding himself back from releasing a flood of curses onto the two…

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