#voxtek server

[crackrodent]

I can't wait for charlie to redeem one of the sinners they killed and for blitz to just

Yall know he would be salty af about it. Like

Blitzo: Hey, i killed that moldy sack of shit for a reason "Princess"

*scoffs*

if thats even what you are!

Stolas, Moxxie, Millie, Loona: *Stares at him in shock*

Charlie: Vaggie! Put down the spear!

[voxtekinc]

Attention, Voxtek! We’re thrilled to announce our first-ever Winter Event! This year, we’re inviting both artists and writers to join in for some server-exclusive, creative fun! Check out the details in the server to get started and make this a winter event to remember!

All characters, all pairings- everyone is welcome!

Trust Us

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Sign up now for complimentary testicular temperature weather updates, writing advice, art advice, karaoke and more! 💜💜

(and occasional live Audio readings in VC channels by yours truly, if you want to hear your fic sometime, join and let me know 💜💜)

This is a VoxTek themed server where we talk about everything related to Hazbin Hotel

All pairings are welcomed, cherished, and will be equally gushed at

A cozy place for writers, artists, and readers to share the joy of this series and create the found family tropes

Join a community where we are a...community! We have great festivals and events planned to celebrate the awesomeness that is Hazbin Hotel

Join us today!

[rammit-online99]

Hello, Viewers!

VOX:Today's promotion is sponsored by VOXTEK !

(wait.. can promotions even get sponsored-?)

VOX:Shut up, Rammit!

VOX:Now, if you do choose to join what we have to offer–a discord server–then here is our precious little link-!

'we'? 'our'? this was entirely done by ME!

VOX:Well, folks, it seems like our little host of the server is a bit of a dumbfuck!

what do you-

VOX:Tell me, Rammit. Who's trying to help you gain more popularity? Me. Who's sponsoring your server to attract more people into that server? Me. Who accepted your offer to help you? Me.

------------------------------------

VOX:Anyway, folks, that's all for today! Tune in next time!

(here's the link)

(this is so stupid lmao 😭)

[voxtek-official]

what would happen if i ripped your screen off

“Then I would kill you”

[come say hi at our discord server!]

[voxteks-sharkweek]

I have a discord server if anyone is interested ^^

It’s not entirely about shark week, but I did add a section for it. It’s more of a general Hazbin hotel hang out server. So maybe make some friends while you’re at it.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Birthday Cake (Alastor x Reader)

Requested on VoxTek Discord server! No CW, a little angst. Happy birthday to those of you with birthdays this month <3

Alastor hummed as he carefully measured flour and sugar. He cracked eggs and mixed in cocoa powder. It’d been a long time since he baked anything, let alone this cake.

There was a point in his life when he baked it every year, though he himself wasn’t fond of sweets. It was his Ma’s favorite cake and by that virtue alone, it was Alastor’s favorite as well.

She raised him in poverty but the one thing she always ensured was that Alastor had a birthday cake. She’d skip more meals than typical in order to ensure it would happen. Before he was old enough to realize how much it meant to her, he would protest that he didn’t like sweet cakes.

As he grew, he noticed that most years, she didn’t have a cake to mark her own birthday. It was only used to mark his birthdays and that of his father. That’s when Alastor decided that when she would ask him what cake he wanted that year, he would request his Ma’s favorite cake.

Every year following, he asked for her favorite, claiming it as his own. It was many years later, when she was weak and ill, that she mentioned how adorable she thought it was that they shared that favorite.

He told her again how he doesn’t care for sweets. He didn’t ask for the cake for himself. It was late, every year, but unbeknownst to her, she was making her own birthday cake.

After she passed, he did carry a fondness for the cake. He’d make a small one to mark his birthday, taking it to her grave-site and eating it with her.

That, of course, ended with everything else when he took a bullet to the head.

The ingredients to make the cake were much harder to find in hell, making the special cake an infrequent treat. It’d been at least a decade since he made it last.

But then you showed up at the hotel. What a darling little bit of entertainment. He’d grown fond of teasing you, taking joy in your emphatic reactions to his little jabs. It was a passing snippet of conversation that he overheard your birthday.

It was the same birthday as his Ma. What were the odds? What were the chances?

Alastor wasn’t one to believe in signs from above in life. He believed in those even less now. The divine wouldn’t bother sending a sign to a man damned in hell.

That lack of belief did not stop him from hunting down the ingredients for the cake. It had him mixing them together in a bowl in the quiet hours of the morning, while everyone else was still asleep. He poured the batter into the floured pan and tapped it hard against the counter, knocking the bubbles out before reaching out with a tentacle to open the oven.

He waited while it baked, mixing up the too sweet icing. His nose wrinkled as the powdered sugar fluffed up into his face, sweetening the air itself as he whipped it into the butter.

Once the cake was done, baked, cooled and decorated with the rustic charm that came with spatula waves in the icing. All that was left was to give it to you.

That shouldn’t be so hard, should it? Except he didn’t want a single other person in the hotel to know what he’d done. He wasn’t ashamed- Ha! It was just what he made for you was special.

It wasn't something he wanted to share with just anyone. You were special. You had to be, you had the same birthday as his Ma. It had to be a sign that you would be important to him.

He paced the room, trying to think of a way to get you into his space without raising questions. There wasn’t time to worry about it longer as a knock sounded at his door. He looked behind him once, his hand resting on the knob.

If he opened the door, they’d be able to see the cake sitting on his small dining table. That wouldn’t do.

Darkness deepened in his room, shadows swallowing the table and everything around it. Much better!

“What can I help you with?” Alastor asked, opening the door with a dramatic flourish only to find himself face to face with you. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise!”

“I… Um?” You blinked up at the intimidating demon. He was handsome and charming but more than anything, he was terrifying. “Charlie-”

“Charlie can wait!” Alasator laughed, reaching out and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. “It’s a special day today!.”

“Is it?” You tried to step away from him only for his grip to tighten.

“You can’t have forgotten what day it is?” Alastor’s static was thick in the air, but his voice was light as he pulled you into the darkness of his room.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you mean?”

“It’s your birthday!” Alastor’s hands left you, and he stepped in front of you.

His eyes and smile glowed in the near total darkness. He held out his hands, fingers wiggling. The darkness pulled back slowly, letting light into the space as he kept his jazz hands going until you saw the small cake sitting in the center of the table.

"I’ve made you a cake!” He laughed as if that was some sort of joke.

The sharp snap of his fingers sparked a flash of green light that turned into a green flame. It floated on nothing through the air, traveling to the wick of a candle in the center of the cake. It caught, shifting with a flash from green to the orange flame you knew so well.

“You… made me a cake?”

“I did!” Alastor laughed again. “Now come, sit. Blow out your candle and make a wish. It won’t come true, of course, but wish anyway!”

You didn’t know what else to do so you sat down in the wrought iron chair. Alastor sat across from you. Two forks appeared in a flash.

“Go on,” he urged. “Can’t start without you.”

“Right,” you said, leaning forward to send out a puff of air. It was just enough to blow out the candle.

Smoke trailed up into the air for a few seconds before the candle flickered back to life.

“It’s your lucky day!” Alastor leaned forward. “It looks like you get another wish.”

This repeated near a dozen times before Alastor grew tired of the game and allowed the candle to remain out. Though his antics aggravated you, you were far too attached to being in one piece to demand him stop.

It was well known that Alastor didn’t care for sweets, so it surprised you when he picked up his fork as you picked yours up. You hesitated before spearing the cake and bringing a bite toward your lips where your fork’s travel stalled.

“It’s not poisoned, is it?”

“Heavens, no!” Alastor flapped his hand at you before taking a bite of the cake himself. It either wasn’t poisoned or, if it was, it was weak enough that Alastor wasn’t in danger from it.

Either way, you were backed into a corner with no choice but to trust him and put the cake in your mouth.

“Good, isn’t it?” Alastor looked smugly down at you from across the table.

“It is,” you answered honestly. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it,” Alastor confided. “It was my ma’s favorite.”

“And you made it for me?” You blinked your wide eyes up at him. “Why?”

“It’s your birthday, silly!” Alastor said, reaching across the table to tap your nose with the tines of his fork. “Did you forget already?”

“No, I-”

Alastor cut you off, “Eat your cake and have a happy birthday, cher.”

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

[crackrodent]

Baxter was not very interested in this blasphemous holiday celebration

A Voxtek Server Winter Event 2024 Submission

Baxter was finishing up the balcony as he strung up the lights Charlie asked him to make. He had already strung up the rest of the red and gold bulbs with the green garland hiding the wires he just needed to adjust the wires a few more inches over to reach the plug-in on the wall. His math on every other section of wire was perfect but the distraction below threw him off on how many times he needed to wrap the string of lights around the bars. He had spent too much time on the final section and his fingers were growing cold inside his gloves from the chilly air.

He attempted to block out the drunken sobs and drunken laughter that danced around the air, taking turns assaulting his ears.

Niffty had already begun knitting sweaters for all the residents while crying after accidentally drinking the “Dizzy” eggnog instead of the non-alcoholic one. Angel felt terrible seeing her in this state and wanted to make her feel better, but even her “Husker” and “King Roach” did nothing. Angel looked at Niffty in her pitiful state, and his big brother mode kicked in.

That's how Angel ended up pulling around Niffty in a wagon waiting for the alcohol to leave her system or for her to cry until she passed out. Baxter listened to the whole argument from where he was working. It was followed by the rest of the sinners going inside without those two.

Christmas in hell. Sinsmas as they called it. It made no damn sense and Baxter may be a mad scientist but he was not a mad man in the day-to-day sense. Only some lowly psycho could enjoy such an insane concept.

Baxter couldn't wait until this entire holiday mess was over. It had turned his stalker even more mad than himself during his most passionate projects. She had even woken him up a few weeks prior with measuring tape to "get the size right" before running off. It wasn't until the next morning that he learned about the sweaters she was making everyone.

He had been worried it was for a cage to lock him in. It was a great relief to learn about the silly sweaters. He looked off the balcony and saw her burning through another ball of red yarn. Given the extra arms on it, it must be the one she was making for Angel Dust.

Baxter was just going to have to undo the wires entirely and redo them. It’s just a small little area but the concept was still dreadful. He drank some of the black coffee he had in his thermos. Niffty had just that morning tried to push him to try some peppermint hot chocolate she had made but he turned her down again. He liked his life the way it was. He didn't need to cave and celebrate this stupid holiday.

The wires were restored to their bundles and the very cold sinner started to try and focus on wrapping the wires exactly this time. No more do-overs. He caught a glimpse of Niffty alone in the wagon with no spider sinner in sight. She was quiet. He couldn't tell if she was double dead or just looking up at the sky at first until he watched her blink to life and sit back up and Angel returned to her handing her her bag of yarn.

Baxter focused on the task she was performing instead of his own for a moment. She was quiet now. He saw her searching through all the different balls of yarn in her bag. From the distance, he couldn't make out how different they must be.

His eyes were back on his own work but his attention remained elsewhere and wondering. He could remember seeing some sparkle. He thought some must be fluffier or softer based on the finished works he had already seen. Red was a dreadful color.

The entire blasted hotel was red and way too many of the residents could easily fade into wallflowers with their own style choices. However, his mother had not raised him to be impolite. It was a special behavior only his little brother and father were allowed. His mother, sister and he had to be polite always. It was the hardest lesson to block out. He knew that meant he would have to say thank you and wear the ugly red sweater once Niffty made his.

He had spent years going against his mother’s teachings. It was probably what landed him in hell, to begin with, his need to be different from them, his family as a whole. They didn't understand him. Why should he understand them either? Not a question. A reason. It’s why he ran off to live his truth. No common ground could be seen in that small house. He was sure his older sister probably took over his half room within the hour he left. If anyone had even noticed. She had always said she wanted Baxter gone so she didn't have to share the room.

It must have been Christmas morning to her when she saw that note taped to the kitchen door. His parents would have had his white walls covered in the awful red rose wallpaper that was on his sister’s half of their room before Baxter even made it out of the state. Running away was the best thing he could do for himself.

His siblings would be laughing their asses off at him if they saw him now. Freezing in hell. Right, where Jr. and Sissy always said he would end up. Especially after the two of them read his journal that his mother always insisted he keep.

Damn it!

Distracted again. The outlet was barely close enough to reach the plug but not enough to actually power the cord. He just couldn’t stay focused.

He peeked through the bars of the railing and caught a glimpse of Niffty knitting what must have been a rather light red sweater. It was hard to see in the dark and nighttime always caused that unsettling red glow on the city. She seemed calmer. Angel had stopped pulling the wagon and now just sat next to her. ‘He must be growing tired of her’ Baxter thought but he could also swear he saw them whispering back and forth. She put down the sweater on her lap like a long blanket.

He laughed quietly to himself about how long it would take most people to knit something and yet Niffty’s crazy fast hands could separate falling salt and sugar. It was almost endearing. She started knitting something smaller he couldn’t quite see.

He wished there was a light or something so he could-

FUCK! The lights.

Baxter saw the error with the cord quickly. He wrapped the last post just once too many. A simple fix. He straightened up the tinsel and finally plugged in the lights and before he could stop himself looked over the railing just as Niffty looked up at the lights.

The final cord powered the entire hotel’s Sinsmas lights outside. It was so dark until THAT cord was plugged in. Nothing looked right. It was all a red haze before but as he met the wide-eyed Niffty’s stare it was all clear. Without even breaking the eye contact he could see everything.

The pile of sweaters that had been under Niffty.

Angel Dust’s shit-eating grin.

Fallen balls of red yarn on the ground.

Lights reflected at him in Niffty’s eye.

A cyan sweater on her lap.

A matching cyan mitten on top of it, and the mitten’s match half made in her hands.

The lights made everything... lighter.

Are you interested in finding out why it takes so long between posts? Come stalk me on the Discord I mod for, lol.

[voxtekinc]

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Masterlist.

~All fics in the undercut~

• My audio Masterlist here.

• To go on my taglist comment here.

~Search or follow the #Nyx's Quips tag for my smaller posts~

Alastor x Reader:

• Scream For Me: (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

• Scream For Me: (MReader) (NSFW Smut)

Inappropriate Demeanour (A Misdemeanor AU)

• Chapter 1: Wet: (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

• Chapter 2: Tree: (FReader) (NSFW Smut) ✨NEW✨

• Chapter 3: Bread: WIP (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

• Forever Bound: (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

• Goodnight: (GNReader) (SFW Fluff)

• Shower: (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

• The Chicken: (SFW Crack)

Vox x Reader:

• Upgrading... (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

• Late: (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

Lucifer x Reader:

• Appletini Appetite: (FReader) (NSFW Smut) ✨NEW✨

RadioApple x Reader:

• Good Morning (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

• Cuddles in bed (SFW Fluff)

RadioStatic x Reader:

• Birthday Treats: (FReader) (NSFW Smut)

RadioApple:

• Desperate Times: (NSFW Smut)

HuskerDust:

• Tucked In: (SFW)

CHAGGIE:

• At Loves Light: (SFW)

• Ducks! (SFW)

ANGEL DUST x READER:

• A Gift. (SFW) ✨NEW✨

~ Link our awesome Discord server: VoxTek ~

~ Banners & dividers made by the talented, amazing @redvexillum!~

~ Go read ^Vexi's^ stuff she's an amazing author! ~

A/N about how I write Ace Alastor, Gender, Sex, Race, and sexual orientation (it's a little longer than I planned but hope it explains things for those who want to know a little more)

[redvexillum]

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, assistant!reader, established relationship, whipped!vox, romantic!vox, soft!vox, p in v, teasing, couple's spat, vox is a simp for reader, reader is equally a simp for vox, tooth rotting fluff, soft s♡x/lovemaking, love confessions

WORD COUNT: 9.7K~

SPECIAL MENTION: @nyx91 (my wife and fellow VoxTek Server cult member), your request has been heard. This is set in Mandatory Overtime Universe, but it's not necessary to read to enjoy this.

The steady hum of your computer filled the quiet room, accompanied only by the relentless clatter of your fingers against the keyboard. For the last two weeks, this had been your soundtrack–a constant rhythm of work fuelled by the rash decision of your boss. Vox, the “TV-headed idiot” as you had come to call him in your mind recently, had once again made a public promise he had no intention of planning for. 

His latest brainchild? 

The VPhone 78, with a supposedly revolutionary features that would allow the phone to fly and follow its users like his countless drones buzzing throughout Hell.  

Of course, the moment he’d announced this absurd concept during an interview, VoxTek’s stocks had soared by 112%. But now, it was your problem. As his top – well, only – personal assistant with your soul still belonging to you, you were stuck trying to work out how on Earth (or Hell, rather) you’d manage to make this ridiculous idea of his both cost-effective and functional.  

You leaned back in your chair, eyes unfocused as numbers swirled around in your mind like tormenting demons. The paperwork was starting to blur together. You sighed heavily, tipping your head back to stare at the ceiling, fingers massaging the bridge of your nose.  

“Vox, you idiot,” you muttered under your breath.  

Publicly, you were nothing more than his right-hand assistant. But behind closed door…that was a different story. Vox took you on what he called “business dinners,” though they were anything but professional. Somewhere along the way, those dinners had turned into more. One heated night led to countless others, and now, 66 years later, the two of you were still locked in this strange, undefined relationship. A weekly ritual of casual intimacy, wrapped in secrecy and masked by your professional titles.  

It had started as a way to blow off steam, and you would never admit to yourself that your feelings for Vox had been anything but carnal. But now, the years had piled up, and you were still tangled up in each other. Your ambition to climb the corporate ladder had gotten complicated; it was messy, with unspoken emotions lurking beneath the surface.  

You groaned, still staring at the ceiling when a soft knock at the door broke through your thoughts.  

“Come in,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from lack of sleep.  

The door creaked open to reveal Papermint, one of Vox’s many errand boys – slender, nervous, and constantly fidgeting. His blue hair and one cyan eye reflected the neon lights of the company, a clear sign that his soul was tethered to Vox’s control. You gave him a tired smile as he shuffled in, looking uncomfortable as always.  

“Papermint,” you said, leaning forward, elbows propped on the mess of papers on your desk. “What does he want now?” 

Papermint adjusted his thin glasses, looking anywhere but at you. “Well, boss wanted–” 

You cut him off with a raised hand. “Let me guess. I’m supposed to put on my VWatch because Vox has something extremely important to tell me, but it’s confidential, so he won’t bother telling you?” You threw in a mocking air quotes around the word “confidential.” 

Papermint’s face lit up with relief as he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that’s exactly it! He’s been on edge…kind of…” he quickly looked around your room, looking for any cameras as Vox always made sure he was watching and listening in everywhere, “you know…” Papermint mumbled, unwilling to take a chance of getting killed for badmouthing the boss.  

You snorted. Typical. Vox’s moods were as volatile as Hell’s weather, and apparently, he had been taking it out on his employees. You were the only one left who could handle him, and even that was debatable. Most, if not all, of his staff had their souls bound to his contracts, but not you. You had sighed a regular employment contract, meaning if you wanted to walk out of this building, you could do so without losing a single shred of your soul.  

You shuffled the papers on your desk, trying to look busy. “I failed to see how that’s my problem, Papermint.” 

His face fell, the colour draining from his cheeks. “Please, Sunshine–” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Not my name.” 

Papermint blinked. “Oh, sorry! I thought that’s what boss called you.” 

“He calls me a lot of things,” you said, rising from your chair. “None of them are relevant.”  

Without another word, you strode past Papermint, your steps purposeful as you left your office. The nickname sunshinehas recently irked you, though lately, you noticed your anger toward it had started to wane. Maybe it was the fact that despite everything, your heart still softened every time you thought of his stupid TV head.  

You found yourself standing outside Vox’s office door without even realizing how quickly you’d gotten there. You cursed under your breath. You were supposed to be angry at him. Frustrated, really. Instead, warmth was blooming in your chest, softening the hard lines of your frown.  

Damn it. Why were you such a softie? 

Without knocking, you pushed open the door and entered his office. The long bridge to his desk, surrounded by a dizzying drop into nothingness, stretched before you like a stage, a visual testament to his need for drama. Vox sat in his grand chair, spinning lazily toward you. His grin was wide, but strained.  

“Ah, Sunshine!” He greeted, his voice edged with nervousness. “Finally decided to show up after, what, twelve days? But hey, who’s counting?” 

You crossed your arms, not dignifying his teasing with a response. Instead, you stared at him, waiting.  

Vox stood up from his desk, his sharp grin widening as his arms stretched out for a hug, his usual smoothness faltering as he made his attempt. You stood unmoving, watching his hands hover awkwardly before he dropped them, clearing his throat with forced nonchalance.  

“Sunshine, I know I said I’d talk to Val about your department store debacle, but–” Vox’s eyes darted toward the corner of the room, hands making small circles as if searching for the right words. “Val can be a bit…tricky.” 

Your jaw tightened. That department store had been your baby – your crown jewel, meant to cement your name in Hell’s ruthless business world. Nine years of gruelling work, settling deals, managing turf wars, negotiating with gangs. Nine years of sacrifice to finally build what was supposed to be yours – with Vox having a mere 25% stake. But that vision had turned into ash and rubble when Valentino decided to “celebrate” your grand opening day with hookers, drugs, and a sleazy entourage. In less than three hours, your hard-earned dream was trashed, half of the building collapsing under the weight of his destructive party.  

And Vox’s response? A dismissive, “That’s just Val being Val.”

You crossed your arms tightly across your chest, one hip jutting out in defiance. “Oh, don’t worry about it, boss,” you spat, the word dripping with sarcasm. “It only took me nine years, eight months, and thirteen days, plus half a billion dollars of my own savings, to build that dream. And it was all blow to hell in three hours! But hey–who’s counting?” 

The muscles in Vox’s neck twitched as his shoulders hiked higher. You could see the tension in his rigid frame, but it wasn’t enough to quell the rage simmering inside you. Time meant little in Hell. Rebuilding wasn’t a big issue either now that the Princess of Hell put an end to the bi-yearly exterminations. And sure, Vox had reimbursed your expenses and offered to buy you a new property to rebuild, but that wasn’t what you wanted.  

What you really wanted was for Vox to finally stand up to Valentino. To sever ties, cut him out of the alliance, and show some backbone for once.  

But it was never that simple.  

Hell’s power structure was a delicate balance, and the Vees were stronger united. Valentino brought numbers, influence, and raw power to the table, attributes too valuable for Vox to dismiss. And what did you bring? 

Competence as his personal assistant. 

A warm body to cuddle with when he felt like it.  

The room buzzed with tension, both of you fully aware that this issue was one of many knots in your tangled relationship. You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to let go of some of the anger bubbling beneath your skin. It wasn’t worth a blow-up–not now. 

“So, what did you call me up here for, Vox?” You asked, your tone softer than before, though you hated how much his name on your lips seemed to brighten his eyes.  

Vox’s smile returned, wider this time, though you could still see the underlying tension in his expression. “Well, it’s our annual company trip, and…” he hesitated, his grin becoming strained as his brows knitted slightly. “It’s mandatory for you to attend!” His tone was too chipper, a veil over the fact that he feared your refusal.  

You rolled your eyes, a huff escaping your lips. “You mean the annual company trip where it’s just the two of us, and we end up fucking?” 

As you talked, Vox took that time to finally circle his arms around you. You felt your resolve crumble and your anger melting away. You cursed inwardly at how easily your body responded to him, your head naturally finding its place against his shoulder as he swayed you gently in his embrace. It was ridiculous, really – how he could have you melting with just a touch, even after all the frustration, all the fights.  

“What?” He laughed nervously, his voice a little higher than usual. “I told you, everyone always cancels last minute! I mean, I do dock their pay, but still–” His words trailed off as his fingers tensed against your body.  

The lie was as obvious as the flickering pixels on Vox’s face, and you couldn’t help but giggle. It was the kind of silliness that made your chest light, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. Pressing your lips against his shoulder, you tried to muffle the sound, but your body shook with mirth anyway.  

Vox sighed softly above you, the rumble of it felt through his chest as he held you tightly. He never made it a secret how much he loved hearing your laughter, the sound always brightening the static on his face and smoothing his sharp edges.  

You felt the faint warmth of his screen pressed against the top of your head as he leaned down to place a light kiss there, his grip tightening ever so slightly around you. And at that moment, you knew undoubtedly that you were going to attend his annual company trip, regardless of how mandatory it was. After all, you attended all the previous so-called company trips.  

“So, is it tomorrow?” You asked, voice softened with the quiet acceptance of his unspoken plea.  

“Tomorrow,” he confirmed, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate line down the centre of your spine. The touch was comforting, intimate, making you sigh in a way that spoke of years of familiarity. His fingers lingered at your lower back as he let out a wistful breath, as if savouring the moment.  

“Are you going to let me go?” You teased, your lips quirking into a smile as you glanced up at him. “I still need to figure out how to implement your so-called flying technology onto all the latest VPhones,” you added with a roll of your eyes, knowing you were slipping back into work mode.  

“Just make our drones into cellphones and call it a day,” he remarked casually, his tone almost lazy.  

You jerked away from him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Excuse me?” You screeched, shifting instantly from playful lover to his professional assistant. “Do tell me how you think that’s remotely possible with all the–“ 

The words spilled out of you in a sharp, impassioned rant. Vox’s gaze never left yours, but his gentle smile and softness in his eyes betrayed his true thoughts. He wasn’t listening to the words. He was listening to you, and that subtle, almost imperceptible affection made your heart squeeze in ways you tried not to think about.  

The next day, you stood outside VoxTek Aquarium, the warm hellish air brushing against your legs as your loose white dress swayed gently with the breeze. The plunging v-neckline gave the soft fabric an elegant flow, but the empty street surrounding the aquarium was unsettling. The eerie silence was in stark contrast to the usual bustle, the crowds that typically lined up for hours on end nowhere to be seen.  

As you approached the doors, a small sign with different shades of blue balloons swaying side by side caught your eyes.

The sign read: Our 66th Anniversary, with a giant heart drawn right below it.  

A giggle escaped your lips before you could stop it. Vox was nothing if not sentimental in his own peculiar way. Every year, without fail, he celebrated your work anniversary with him, marking the occasion as if it were something sacred. You never fully understood it, but there was something about his dedication to it that made you feel warm inside, giddy even. He made you feel seen–like your time, your presence, mattered in a way no one else had ever made you feel.  

As you stepped inside the aquarium, your eyes widened in awe. The large cylindrical tank at the centre dominated the room, a towering presence that rose as tall as a seven-story building. Inside, Vox’s prized hammerhead shark swam lazily, its glowing blue patterns casting an eerie light through the water. The sheer size of it made your stomach flip with unease.  

“Sunshine!” Vox’s voice rang out, cutting through the silence.  

You turned to see him approaching in navy-blue swim trunks, his grin wide and boyish despite his usual cool exterior. Before you could say a word, he closed the distance between you and capture your lips with his own. The kiss was soft at first, tender, but soon his tongue teased the seam of your lips, asking for entrance.  

You hummed appreciatively, parting your mouth and letting him explore. His hips pressed against you, a faint grind that had heat pooling low in your belly as his cock strained against the fabric of his swim trunks.  

When he finally pulled away, his breath came in short gasps, his grin widening just slightly. His chest rose and fell, and your eyes drifted downward to the obvious tenting in his trunks. A sultry smile curved your lips as you reached down, fingers grazing his swollen balls through the thin material. A sharp hiss escaped his lips, his body trembling at your touch.  

“Want me to take care of you?” You whispered, your breath ghosting over his neck. “A little preview of what’s to come tonight?” 

A shudder passed through him, micro-glitches cracking across his face as his control slipped for just a moment. “Yes,” he rasped, before quickly pulling back, his eyes wide. “Wait, no. I mean, yes, I want you, but – no?” His sheepish laugh filled the space between you, his words tripping over themselves in his embarrassment.  

Vox cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his hardened length to lie flat against his stomach, the cyan-blue tip of his cock barely peeking above the waistband of his swim trunks. It was a curious sight – normally, Vox was quick to pull you into bed the moment the mood struck. But today, something about his hesitation had you intrigued. With a cocky grin, you tugged your dress over your head, letting the fabric fall at your feet.  

The moment Vox’s gaze locked onto you, a sense of triumph swelled inside. His eyes roamed your figure, darkening with unmistakable hunger. You’d worn his favourite styled swimwear – a scandalous string bikini that left nothing to the imagination. The thin strip of cloth barely covered your front, your ass completely bare, while the triangles barely held your breasts, your nipples perked and straining against the fabric.  

You knew exactly what kind of effect this would have on him, especially since one of the triangles sported the VoxTek logo, a personal touch that always drove him wild.  

“O-oh wow,” Vox croaked, his voice hoarse with desire. “You look–” 

“Well then,” you interrupted with a playful smirk, “shall we get started on the itinerary of our company trip, Mr. Vox?” You emphasized his title with a cheeky grin, pretending to fall into your role as his dutiful assistant. “I was this close to derailing your whole plan with a blowjob. But luckily, you, the ever-dutiful CEO, will keep us on track, right?” You batted your eyelashes.  

Vox’s pixels flickered, and a cascade of blue sparks arced down his body, his circuits clearly struggling to keep up with the sight before him. His head jerked slightly to the side as he attempted to regain control, the telltale glitch that always happened when you managed to short-circuit him. 

You gave him a moment to compose himself, but the growing bulge in his trunks told you everything you needed to know. He was far from calm, and a mischievous spark lit in your chest. Today was going to be fun – a day of teasing, of pushing him until he finally snapped, losing control the way he always did before bending you over and fucking you raw. The thought alone sent heat pooling low in your belly, your thighs pressing together as your arousal stirred.  

Vox cleared his throat again, his hand moving to cover the obvious bulge straining against his swim trunks. “Ri-right,” he stammered, swallowing thickly. “I-I may take you up on that offer…later, if you don’t mind,” he added with a sheepish grin, his words still tripping over themselves. “But first, I want to start our annual event with this.” 

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a navy blue velvet box. The sight of it made your breath hitch, but you quickly covered it with a teasing smile.  

“Please don’t tell me it’s the latest VWatch,” you joked, shaking your head. Your lips stretched into a wide grin, though your pulse quickened with curiosity. Vox had made a habit of calling these little trips “company events,” a roundabout way of spending the day with you outside of work without having to define your relationship as more than colleagues. Still, you humoured him, always indulging in the fiction he created to spend more time with you…because deep down, you enjoyed these moments too.  

You opened the box, expecting something practical or silly, but what you saw instead made you freeze. Inside was a delicate ring, the centrepiece a clear gem with a crackle of blue electricity coursing through it. It shimmered in the low light, casting a faint glow that danced across your skin.  

Your fingers trembled as you reached for it. “Wh-what is this?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper, your mind swirling with unspoken thoughts.  

Vox rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his usual confidence faltering. “It’s…kind of an inside joke?” He began, his tone uncertain. “You’re practically married to me–well, to your work, which is my company, and everyone already calls you my wife – I mean work wife. So, I figured…why not give my work wife a ring?” 

Your head spun as his words sank in. Vox had never been good at hiding his feelings when it came to you. He could sugarcoat it all he wanted, categorize it as a joke, but the truth was clear. This wasn’t just about work anymore. He wanted more, something real, something official. And for someone like him – one of the most powerful Overlords – the implications were monumental.  

“Here, let me do the honours,” he whispered, his voice soft, almost reverent. He gently took the ring from your hand and slid it onto your left ring finger with a surprising amount of tenderness. His touch sent a jolt of warmth up your arm, the electricity from the ring almost pulsing in time with your heartbeat.  

Your cheeks heated, a rush of emotions making your heart flutter wildly in your chest. You weren’t stupid – you knew exactly what this gesture meant, even if Vox tried to play it off as something less. You’d been at his side for so long, spending nearly every waking moment with him, in and out of work. He’d given you his time, his attention, his affection, and even a miniature shark that now lived in his tank, a shared responsibility between the two of you. In every way that mattered, you had already given him your heart and soul, figuratively speaking. 

Yet, there was no official label for what you were. And the thought of finally defining it –finally putting a name to what you had– suddenly felt terrifying.  

“It’s pretty,” you mumbled, unsure of what else to say.  

Vox’s throat clearing pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced up, drawn by the sight of him lifting his hand, showing off a silver band wrapped snugly around his finger. A thin streak of blue lightening shimmered though it, alive and pulsating like electricity caught in time. The realization hit you harder than expected, like a ripple expanding through your chest.  

“You really took this ‘work wife’ thing seriously, huh?” You joked, though your voice came out softer than intended. You wanted to brush it off, make it seem like this was just another playful gesture between the two of you, but the warmth flooding your cheeks betrayed you. The ring on your own finger caught your eye again, the delicate glow of the blue crackling electricity inside it casting soft shadows on your skin. Your thumb traced the cool surface absentmindedly, a silly grin tugging at your lips.  

It was beautiful. Far more than a simple token or inside joke, and best of all, the way it sat on your finger felt…right.  

'It wouldn’t hurt to wear it a little longer,' you thought, trying to reason with yourself. The soft thrum of excitement beneath your skin told you that you weren’t fooling anyone, least of all yourself.  

“Take it as a…a…” Vox’s voice pulled your focus back to him. His eyes flickered around the room, clearly searching for the right words. “A party favour?” 

“A party favour?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow at the absurdity of the idea.  

“You know, like when you go to a party, and they give guests gifts.” His words hung awkwardly in the air, but there was something endearing about his uncertainty.  

Laughter burst from your lips, breaking the tension. The idea that the two of you could continue dancing around the deeper meaning behind this moment was almost too much. Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your body to his and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. The faint static of his skin sent a pleasant tingle across your lips, making them buzz.  

“Thank you for the…party favour,” you teased, arching a brown in amusement.  

Vox’s expression shifted, his lips parting as if to say more, something important, but instead, he blurted, “Swimming!” 

“Swimming?” You repeated, thrown by the sudden shift.  

“Remember?” His hands settled firmly on your hips, warm and steady. “You told me last month that you missed swimming in the ocean, back when you were alive.” His voice softened with a touch of excitement. “So, why not swim with the sharks! They’re remarkable – such sweethearts! You can even ride them if you'd like!” He grinned, twirling you around to face the massive tank behind you, where a shadowy figure swam lazily, its sleek form curving through the water.  

Your breath caught in your throat as the shark’s jagged teeth flashed, even with its mouth barely parted. The sheer size of it, the raw power, sent a nervous shiver down your spine. You instinctively pressed your back against Vox’s solid chest, trying to ease your growing apprehension.  

“Are you sure they won’t…eat me?” You glanced back at him, voice a little higher than usual. “I mean, don’t you feed them sinners?” 

Vox chuckled, the sound rumbling pleasantly through you as he grabbed your hands, guiding you toward a different section of the building. “Oh, doll, don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he promised, his voice low and reassuring. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re going to love it. In fact, you’ll be begging me to do this every year.” 

His enthusiasm was contagious. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying to stifle the giggle that bubbled up. Vox, with his wide-eyed excitement, reminded you of a kid in a candy store, his usual Overlord bravado replaced with something innocent, almost boyish. It was…cute.  

Vox was cute in your eyes. The thought warmed you from within, spreading like a gentle heat through your chest.  

When he finally opened a door at the far end of the west wing, the familiar scent of salt water filled your nose, and your eyes widened in disbelief. The room was bathed in soft blue light, the walls painted to resemble the sky, with fluffy clouds hovering lazily in each corner. A layer of fine, tan sand stretched across the floor, inviting and warm beneath your feet. You could hear the rhythmic sound of waves crashing from speakers hidden away, and though it was artificial, it tugged something deep within you, a nostalgic ache for the ocean.  

“Oh my God,” you breathed, stepping slowly into the room. You kicked off your sandals, your toes sinking into the warm sand. It was soft, like velvet, slipping between your toes in a way that made your heart flutter with joy. “How did you–where did you…?” 

“Connections, baby!” Vox’s voice was filled with pride, his grin wide and playful as he watched you marvel at the scene. He stood there, his head tilted slightly upward as if basking in your approval, and it made you want to laugh all over again.  

The water before you was crystal clear, so transparent you could see every detail of the sharks circling lazily beneath the surface. Despite their fearsome appearance, they glided through the water with an almost serene grace, their bodies cutting through the waves like shadows.  

“Here you go,” Vox’s voice was warm, almost playful, as he stood beside you, handing over a snorkeling set. His rectangular goggles gleamed with neon blue around the edges, clunky and absurd on his face, especially given that they included a space for a nose, which he quite literally didn’t have.  

You bit back a laugh as you took the goggles from him. “Do you seriously need goggles?” You asked, snapping the rubber band behind your head as you put yours on. The cool plastic of the mask pressed against your skin, the sensation slightly jarring as it sealed itself. Your fingers traced the strange snorkel setup, noticing the hole at the end of the tube was sealed off, and instead, a tiny device was attached to the mouthpiece.  

Vox, apparently catching the confusion in your expression, gestured grandly. “First of all, these goggles look fantastic on me,” he said with a wide grin. “Second, this snorkel is VoxTek’s latest innovation! Oxygen is stored in that tiny little case – no need for bulky tanks!” 

You hummed in mild surprise, examining the sleek design. “They why do we need this part?” You asked, pointing to the unnecessary tube extending from the mouthpiece.  

With a casual shrug, he replied, “Purely for the aesthetic. People love snapping pictures while they swim with the fishes, and nothing says ‘authentic’ like classic snorkel.” 

You laughed, the sound bubbling up easily as Vox took your hand, pulling you closer to the edge of the water. His grin widened, a mischievous spark lighting up in his eyes. “Ready for a great family fun adventures?” He declared, his tone almost too polished.  

Bursting into laughter again, you teased, “Vox, are you using one of your pre-recorded lines on me?” 

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, you caught me. I had to rehearse that line like, 800 times. I’m still deleting the voice clips from my main database,” his blue talon clacked against the side of his head.  

Your laughter softened into a chuckle, but the smile faded slightly as your gaze shifted toward the water. Two massive sharks glided slowly just beneath the surface. You squeezed Vox’s hand instinctively. “You’re sure I’m not going to end up shark bait, right? I’d really rather not wake up in the Badlands once my body reforms.” 

Vox tutted, his grin turning wicked as his right eye flickered with a spiralling hypnotic circles. “You have so little faith,” he purred, his voice a low electric hum. “They wouldn’t dare attack their master – or his guests.” His eyes sparked with electricity, crackling with a dangerous gleam. “They’d regret it very much.” 

You raised a brow, lips twitching with amusement. “I thought you liked these guys.” 

“I do,” he said, his face shifting back to that cherub-like smile you found oddly endearing. “Now come on, trust me – you won’t regret it!” With a playful tug, he pulled you toward the water’s edge.  

As you took a hesitant step closer, you glanced up at him. “Can you even swim? You’re not going to short-circuit on me, are you?” 

Vox shot a smug, shit-eating grin, his hand firm on your wrist as he dragged you in. “I’m waterproof, sunshine.” Before you could react, he yanked you into the water.  

You hit the surface with a splash, salt water flooding your mouth as you gasped in surprise. The cold shock of it stung your skin, the salty taste lingering on your tongue as you coughed, trying to clear your lungs. “Vox!” You sputtered, your voice cracking as you shivered from the sudden chill. But even in the cold, his arms wrapped around your waist, his body warm and solid against yours as he treaded water for the both of you. Droplets ran down his monitor-like face, glistening in the faint light, and you couldn’t help but think, well, I’ll be damned. He really is waterproof. 

“Come on!” Vox’s grin remained unshaken as he gestured toward the snorkel. “Put it on, and I’ll give you the grand tour!” 

Rolling your eyes, but unable to resist the infectious energy in his voice, you placed the mouthpiece between your lips. The soft rush of oxygen flowed in, steady and calming. With a surprisingly graceful dive, Vox plunged into the water, still gripping your hand. You followed, the water closing over your head as you descended into the aquarium depths.  

True to his word, the sharks swam around you like silent sentinels, their movements smooth and controlled. They didn’t open their jaws, just glided alongside you as if you were one of them. Their skin, slick and smooth, brushed against you now and again, almost like the nudge of a curious cat. Their gills shimmered with a faint blue glow, and their eyes, deep crimson, glinted like rubies of sunken treasures.  

Vox, with the grace of a dolphin – albeit a dolphin with a television for a head – gently ran his hand along the hammerhead shark’s back, his fingers trailing against its smooth surface as it swam in slow circles around you. He shot you a grin, his eyes glowing with that familiar red swirl, and tilted his head toward the shark, encouraging you to touch it.  

Gulping, you hesitantly reached out. To your surprise, the shark swam closer, allowing your fingers to graze its skin. It felt almost velvety, smooth in a way you didn’t expect. You ran your hand along its side, marvelling at the control Vox had over these creatures – Hell sharks, of all things.  

With a quick tug, Vox pulled you against him, his grip firm on your waist. His eyes gleamed red again, and you noticed the same hypnotic swirl reflected in the sharks’ eyes. He was controlling them, his power threading through the water, binding them to his will.  

The hammerhead drifted near, and Vox grabbed onto its dorsal fin with one hand, the other keeping you close. As the shark began to swim with purpose, you felt the rush of water against your body, the pressure building as you held on to Vox. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and together, you glided through a series of underwater tubes, each segment revealing different themes – lost treasure, pirate ships, tropical islands.  

The aquarium was vast, much larger than you’d imagined, and with every twist and turn, you found yourself more amazed. The sea creatures scattered as you passed, their forms darting away in colourful flashes, leaving trails of bubbles in your wake.  

Vox hadn’t been lying. As the thrill of the ride continued, you began to think that you’d want to do this again next year.  

Eventually, the shark slowed, the water warming around you. Vox released the shark, and it swam away, its massive body blending into the shadows. He pulled you toward the surface, and as you broke through the water, your eyes widened in astonishment.  

The soft glow of aquamarine light bathed the small enclosure, making the water shimmer like liquid gemstones. The rocky cave walls were draped with delicate strings of fairy lights, casting a soft, ethereal glow, like stars twinkling in the midnight sky. It felt secluded, intimate, as though the world outside had vanished, leaving only the two of you in this perfect, private paradise.  

“Come here, baby doll,” Vox’s voice was a low murmur, filled with warmth and a tenderness that never failed to make your heart flutter. He began to swim toward the shore, the water rippling gently around him as he moved. The sandy floor beneath sloped gradually, mimicking a beach, and you followed him, shivering from the cool air as the water dripped down from your body. 

You removed your goggles and snorkel, setting them aside before wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to preserve whatever warmth you had left. Before you could process the chill, a soft fluffy towel enveloped you, and Vox’s arm circled around your shoulders, pulling you against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, a comforting contrast to the cold. Your face nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing in the subtle mix of sea salt and remnants of his sharp cologne. His hand rested gently on the back of your head, holding you close, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.  

The sound of the artificial waves lapping at the shore echoed softly in the cave, blending with the quiet rhythm of your heartbeat. Neither of you spoke, content in the silence, your bodies pressed close as you shared this perfect moment. It struck you just how romantic Vox had always been during these company trips. Every year, he found new ways to make you feel cherished, loved in a way that filled your heart with warmth.  

You sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him tighter. His presence, his warmth, his scent – if all filled you with a deep sense of peace. You breathed him in, the familiar smell wrapping around you like a blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

Every year, he never failed to make you feel like the most important person in his world.  

“Want me to order you a drink?” Vox whispered, his breaths warm against your scalp.  

You nuzzled closer to him, unwilling to break the moment. “Mhm, but I don’t mind staying like this,” you mumbled, your voice soft and content. “S’nice.” 

His chest rumbled with a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating through you. Vox had always said he loved your laughter, but you felt the same about his. It was rich, full of life, and it always made you smile.  

Reluctantly, he guided you over to a small round wooden table, pulling out a chair for you. You sank into it, the heavy blue towel still wrapped snugly around your shoulders. The scene was almost too picturesque – the shimmering water, the soft glow of the cave lights, the peaceful solitude of this hidden beach. “Are there any workers here?” You asked, your eyes scanning the serene beauty of the space.  

Vox smirked as he sat across from you, his monitor face lighting up as he pulled up a browser with a drink menu from Veebucks. “If you count my drones as workers, then yes,” he said with a shrug. “They’re the cheapest labour, after all.” 

“You mean free,” you quipped, watching with amusement as he tapped on the screen, ordering yours and his drink from the menu.  

“Same thing,” he muttered, his face returning to its usual charming grin.  

Silence fell over you again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You soaked in the atmosphere, appreciating the care and thought he’d put into every detail. Vox reached across the table, his thumb brushing tenderly against the top of your hand, side to side in a slow affectionate gesture. “Happy anniversary, my brightest sunshine,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere, his smile gentle.  

Before you could respond, a drone swooped overhead, placing two cups on the table. The rich, nutty aroma of hazelnut and coffee filled the air, and your heart swelled with a sudden, overwhelming warmth. It was the drink you’d been ordering almost every day lately, and you realized he’d been paying attention to even the smallest details about you. 

Reaching for the cup, you took a sip, closing your eyes as the familiar taste of chocolate and coffee spread across your tongue. The warmth of the drink seeped into your body, chasing away the last of the cold. You sighed in contentment. Vox took a sip from his own cup, and you couldn’t help but smile, amused still to this day how he managed to drink despite having a TV head.  

He scooted his chair closer to yours, and the proximity made your heart flutter. “After this, we could check out some of the restaurants,” Vox suggested, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Then we can walk through the different sections of the aquarium and maybe–” 

You listened, his voice washing over you like a soothing wave. Everything he planned revolved around spending time together, making sure you both enjoyed each other’s company. As you gazed down at the drink in your hands, your eyes drifted to the delicate ring on your left finger. It suddenly struck you – this wasn’t just any anniversary. It was your 66th work anniversary.  

For sixty-six years, he’d celebrated this day with you. Every single year, without fail.  

“Vox,” you interrupted softly, placing your cup down. “You know you don’t have to go to all this trouble for me.” A smile tugged at your lips. “Showing this much favouritism for a worker isn’t exactly great for morale – or your image.” 

Vox furrowed his brows, genuine confusion crossing his face. “What are you talking about?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.  

Now it was your turn to be confused. “I mean you don’t have to celebrate my work anniversary every year,” you said matter-of-factory. “Especially when you don’t even acknowledge your other worker’s anniversary.” 

Vox blinked once, then twice, before bursting into laughter. The sound was deep and raucous, filling the cave as he threw his head back. His chest shook, and his monitor flickered as he struggled to contain himself. “Oh, sunshine,” he said between laughs, “you thought we're celebrating your work anniversary all this tie?” 

In one smooth motion, he grabbed both your wrists, pulling you forward until you straddled his lap. His voice dropped to a low, dark whisper as his hands slid down your waist, pulling you closer. “My love,” he breathed, his eyes glinting with mischief, “I’ve been celebrating the day we first made love – every year.” 

Your muscles locked as your mind raced to catch up with his words. The truth hit you like a roaring tidal wave – you had slept with Vox, your boss, just before your contract was set to expire. That night had felt like the end, a one-time indulgence, but here you were, years later, warming his bed at least on a weekly basis. 

In hindsight, it wasn’t just your work anniversary you’d been celebrating each year with him. It was something much deeper, something more profound than a mere fling.  

Your heart pounded in your chest as you pieced it all together – every company trip, every time you ended up in his bed, his touch was always gentle, reverent, almost as if he were afraid you’d slip away. You had dismissed it as passion, fleeting and temporary. But for Vox, for him…it had been love. He saw it as making love to you.  

Slowly, your hand drifted down the side of his head, your new ring clinking softly against the hard surface. Each year, after every quiet, tender night together, Vox always whispered the same words.  

He always said… 

Vox’s smile softened, his claws grazing the back of your scalp before pulling you close, close enough that your breaths mingled. His voice was barely a whisper, and yet, it was all you could hear. “I love you, my brightest sunshine,” he murmured, before pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.  

Your throat tightened, and you cursed the tears stinging the corners of your eyes. Damn it. You hadn’t expected to cry, hadn’t expected to feel this sudden rush of vulnerability. You blinked rapidly, hoping he’d chalk it up to the water from earlier, but when he pulled back, his eyes widened as he saw the tears spill freely.  

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Vox’s voice cracked, his panic clear, as though he couldn’t bear to see you hurting.  

And at that moment, you realized – it had always been you who assumed he couldn’t love you. That he wouldn’t.  

Without thinking, you pressed your forehead against his, your breath dancing with his. Then you kissed him –softly at first, a gentle peck, but the need, the desperation in your chest grew, and the next kiss was deeper. 

And the next one, longer. 

More urgent. 

Every kiss was a wordless apology for doubting him, for not seeing the depth of what had been right in front of you for all these years.  

You had always assumed this was nothing but a fleeting affair, a passion that would cool and fade with time. But the way Vox’s breath hitched in between your kisses, the way he groaned in response to your touch – it told you otherwise. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, needing more of you, as if he could never get enough.  

“I wanted to –“ he began, voice low and hoarse, but you silenced him with another kiss, swallowing his words.  

He managed to gasp out, “–to show you the master suite…I decorated the bed for–” 

“Or,” you interrupted with a wicked smile, your voice a soft purr against his lips, “you could let me have a taste now.” 

You felt the answering throb of his cock, already hard and pressing insistently against your core, and your grin widened. “Looks like the other half agrees,” you teased, wiping the stray tears with your towel before letting it drop to the floor. Your skin felt feverish, flushed and burning with desire, every nerve alive with the need for him.  

“I even wore this,” you whispered, your voice dropping to a sultry murmur as you leaned in, “just for you, today.” Your words elicited another eager throb from his cock, and your breath hitched as the sensation sent shivers down your spine.  

“Ah, fuck,” Vox groaned, his hand slipping under the thin fabric of your bikini, fingers finding your hardened nipples. His touch was hot, electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, slow and purposeful. You hissed, arching into him as he ground his clothed, wet, cock against your core, his eyes squeezed shut in pure, unfiltered bliss.  

“A taste,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “You want a taste now?” His breath came quicker as he lifted you effortlessly, laying you across the table in one swift motion. The drink clattered to the floor, the sound distant, irrelevant as his gaze darkened, locked onto you like a predator ready to devour its prey.  

Your hips teetered at the edge of the table, legs dangling loosely, toes barely brushing the sandy floor beneath. You heard the slick sound of Vox sliding off his bathing suit, the wet fabric hitting the ground in a damp heap. And then, there he was — his dark, navy shaft, gleaming with a faint blue glow at the tip, standing at full attention.  

“Oh, fuck, look at you,” he groaned, voice thick with desire. His hand gripped the base of his cock, a sharp gasp leaving his lips as he slapped the tip against your still-covered clit, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through you. “You know how much I fucking missed you when you didn’t come over last weekend,” he huffed, frustration laced in his voice as he hastily wrapped your legs around his waist. “My hands are nothing compared to yours,” he moaned, his hips lazily rolling against you, teasing, tormenting.  

You let out a soft, needy whimper as the swollen head of his cock nudged against your engorged clit. God, the sensation left you aching for more, desperate for the feel of him – bare, hard, and slick – sliding inside you. “More,” you moaned, voice trembling. As your hips shifted, chasing the pleasure that rippled through your body like a tidal wave.  

“I know, baby doll, I know,” Vox sighed, his voice deep and strained as his fingers skilfully tugged your bikini top aside. His eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of your nipples, stiff and begging for his touch. “Ah, fuck, yeah,” he muttered, and his long sinuous tongue slipped out, lapping eagerly at your left nipple. The broad, wet surface of his tongue dragged across the sensitive peak, nudging it up before it snapped back into place.  

A deep moan rumbled from him, long and lewd, as he finally pulled your bottoms free, the cool air kissing your bare skin for a brief moment before his thick, hot shaft pressed against your soaked folds. “Oh fuck, look how wet you are. Is that all for me?” he rasped, dragging the length of his cock through your slick folds, spreading your arousal along your lips as he teased your entrance.  

“Vox,” you whimpered, arching your back against the hard surface of the table. The pressure sent a delicious ache through you, but it was nothing compared to the way he lapped at your nipples, his tongue working over them like a man starved, desperate for every taste of you.  

With one hand, Vox steadied himself against the table, the weight of his and your body making the wood creak beneath you. The air between you sizzled with heat, your mingled breaths and the soft rhythmic sound of the waves filling the cave like music. His eyes locked onto yours, pupils turning into sharp slits with lust, and the heat of his cock at your entrance made your thighs tremble.  

Slowly, agonizingly slow, he pushed the tip of his cock inside you, stretching your entrance, inch by inch. You writhed beneath him, your body instinctively pulling him in deeper, the slick, tight walls of your cunt gripping him greedily.  

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, the stretch so deliciously deep that it made your toes curl, your back continued to arch off the table as he sank further inside. His thick cock filled you completely, stretching you open, reclaiming the space that had always been his. You whimpered as he inched closer to your favourite spot, so damn close you could almost feel the sparks waiting to ignite. “More, more,” You whined, the desperation in your voice palpable.  

“That’s right, doll,” he whispered, his other hand finding your nipple, now cool from his saliva. He pinched it, sending sharp jolts of pleasure and pain shooting straight to your core.  The sensation spiralled through your body, tingling, buzzing, settling deep in your belly as he sank fully into you, his hips flush against yours.  

He groaned, low and deep, his cock twitching inside you as he paused, his heavy balls resting against you. He didn’t move, didn’t thrust, just held you there, making sure you felt every inch of him, every throb, every pulse of how hard he was for you.  

Your legs trembled as you tried to keep them wrapped around his hips, your body humming with need as his fingers toyed with your nipple, tugging, pulling and twisting. You were both on the edge, the tension taut yet brittle, waiting to snap apart.  

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, for an entirely different reason. The longer Vox stayed deep inside you, the more you found yourself unravelling, desperate for him to take you completely, to fuck you until you lost all sense of self. His dark chuckle vibrated through the air, low and sinful. “Restless little thing, aren’t you,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement.  

Finally – finally – he pulled back, your walls clinging to him, unwilling to let him go. Vox moaned, deep and primal, as he dragged his cock out until just the tip remained inside, then pushed back in slowly, the feel of him parting you making you quiver.  

“Oh, god, Vox,” you gasped, your body trembling, arms reaching out for him to come closer to you. You wanted more, needed more, the slow, tantalizing build was driving you mad. Tears blurred your vision, but they weren’t from pain. The pleasure was mounting, and you craved its climax, growing impatient for the rush.  

Vox leaned in, allowing your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. His rhythm was steady, deliberate, his hips circling in slow teasing motions. Your own hips moved in sync, grinding against him, showing him how soaked you were, how much you wanted him, how your body screamed for him.  

“If you could only see what I see,” he whispered, his voice filled with tender and care. His eyes stayed locked on yours. “If you could only see, sunshine,” he murmured again before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His hips pushed harder against you, the friction of his pubic bone rubbing against your sensitive clit, sending sparks through your core.  

It was the combination of his sweet words and the way he knew your body, how he understood every secret it kept, that had you completely losing control. Your legs fell open wider, your lips parted, breaths coming out in ragged pants as your eyes silently pleaded for more.  

He was hitting that spot inside you, the one that made stars burst behind your eyelids, and you could feel the pressure building deep within you. The cool air had long since dried your bodies, leaving only the heat – the unbearable, searing heat of desire that radiated between you. His chest pressed firmly against yours, your nipples rubbing against his now slick skin, the friction driving you wild.  

You could hear his uneven breath, could feel the tension thrumming through his muscles as he held himself back, trying not to lose control. He wanted to make this last, wanted this moment to be special. You could tell how much today meant to him, how different this time was. He wasn’t just fucking you – he was making love to you. And you surrendered to it, letting him take what he needed because you knew there was a different kind of pleasure in giving.  

And you knew exactly what he wanted to hear.  

“I love you,” you whispered, voice soft but clear. His hips faltered, a shudder running through him, his eyes wide with disbelief as they met yours. He blinked, lips parting as though to say something, but you brought his head down to rest against your forehead, strands of your hair reaching out to him, charged with the static. “I love you,” you repeated, feeling his cock twitched, harder, deeper inside of you. For a moment, you wondered if he could just come from hearing those words.  

You didn’t say it often. Those three words. Vox had always said them enough for the both of you. 

But now, seeing the joy, the pure ecstasy in his eyes, you thought maybe you should say it more often. He looked so incredibly happy, like your words had unlocked something sacred within him.  

“One more time, sunshine,” he trembled, his voice thick with emotion. “Please.” He clutched you tighter, your legs wrapping around him, pulling him closer as your lips ghosted over his, and you whispered it again, letting those three words sink into him, into both of you.  

“I love you.” 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and when they opened again, they were filled with something raw, something powerful. His pace shifted, faster now, his thrusts deeper, more urgent. The table rocked beneath you, the sound of wood creaking barely audible over the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin and your voices of ecstasy. His cock plunged in and out of you, filling you, stretching you, the sound of your slick arousal filling the space.  

His eyes never left yours as he ravaged you, each thrust more desperate than the last. His balls slapped against you, his breath coming out in hot, ragged bursts, but his focus remained on you. His fingers slid down between your bodies, finding your clit, and your sharp gasp was your only warning before he rubbed them in time with his thrusts. He knew exactly how to touch you, the tempo, the pressure that made you lose your mind.  

A coil tightened in your belly, the peak so close your body could only tremble as the pleasure built to an unbearable height. “Oh, fuck,” Vox groaned, his voice low and wrecked. “Fuck, you feel so good. Faster? Slower?” He panted, his skin hot and slick with sweat, his nipples grazing yours with every thrust.  

“Ah–mm,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “Keep going like this, Vox, ah–don’t stop,” you pleaded, your walls tightening around him, your body on the edge of release. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out, the wet friction of his fingers on your clit – it was too much, too intense, and yet exactly what you needed.  

Vox’s thrusts grew more deliberate, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through you as your body clenched tightly around him. He groaned deeply, feeling your walls squeeze him, signalling just how close you were to falling over the edge. “That’s right, baby doll,” He panted, his voice raw with need.  “That’s right…that’s right.” Every word was punctuated by the rhythmic slap of his hips against you, his fingers flicking over your swollen, oversensitive clit. The sharp sting from his touch melted instantly into a wave of pleasure, your breath hitching, ragged, desperate for him to keep going, to push you that last step.  

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, the words barely audible as your body quivered beneath him. His cock filled you completely, plunging deep, the friction making your lips fall open as he drove into you again and again. Your muscles tightened, like a drawn bowstring ready to snap, and you pressed your heel into his back, grinding against him.  

With a whimper, your head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as that searing, white-hot rush of orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. “Oh, fuck…fuck,” you cried out, your entire body shuddering, pleasure rolling through you in heavy crashing waves. The intensity wracked your senses, and you barely registered the way Vox pried your legs open wider, gripped your ankles as he kept thrusting into you, chasing his own release.  

His pace quickened, the table creaking and groaning under the force of his movement. Your gasping breaths and the slick, erotic rhythm of his cock pounding into you was all you could focus on. Vox moaned sharply above you, his head falling back, his hips jerking forward as he reached his peak. His cock pulsed inside you, spilling hot streams of his release, and you could feel every throb and every twitch as he filled you completely.  

“Oh…yea, baby,” he panted, his voice thick with pleasure.  He slowed his movements, thrusting lazily as he milked every last drop of his release, his hips roiling in slow circles. “Fuck, you take me so well,” he murmured, his breathing heavy as he pushed deep one last time, burying himself to the hilt.  

Your legs, trembling from the aftermath of your orgasm, fell limply from his grasp, your body still buzzing with the sensation of him inside you. The hard edge of the table dug into your back, but you didn’t care. Not when he finally leaned forward, bracing his arms on the side of your head, his face hovering just above yours. His breath fanned across your skin as he gave you a relaxed, satisfied grin.  

As his cock softened, he slowly slid out of you, and you felt the rush of his release spill out from you, the proof of your shared union dripping onto the tan, hot sand.  

“Happy anniversary, love,” Vox murmured, his voice soft, intimate. He reached out, cradling your face in his large hands, his thumb brushing tenderly along your cheek. “To another year together,” his smile was gentle but behind it, there was a flash of something vulnerable, something raw that made your chest tighten. 

And then it hit you, all at once. 

For Vox, this wasn’t just about sex or a casual fling. He was celebrating something much deeper, something that went beyond the physical. 

He was celebrating the fact that, year after year... 

You stayed with him. 

You chose him. 

You were the only one who had ever remained by his side, who had loved him long enough, steadfastly enough, to make him feel... worthy.  

What he was truly celebrating was each year that you chose to stay with him, every single time. And you could see it now, in the way his eyes softened, in the way he touched you like you were his lifeline, like you were the one thing that grounded him in this Hell.  

And perhaps, that was worth something to celebrate every year. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

An excerpt from my post when I first announced I was going to do Kinktober/Flufftober:

[ladyadrasteia666]

STAB

I want to thank @nyx-umbrakinesis, @persephoneblck, @crackrodent and the VoxTek server for the conversation that prompted this. Also, shout-out to @redfoxwritesstuff, who specifically asked for this to be written 😂.

I will also note that this conversation was inspired and paraphrased from Team Four Star's DBZ Abridged: Broly movie. If you haven't seen them, please check them out.

====================================

*It was a quiet afternoon in the Hazbin Hotel. Redemption activities were cancelled due to a severe acid rain storm. Having not much else to do (Television usage was banned, no thanks to the Radio Demon), Charlie Morningstar- Princess of Hell- was role playing with Niffty, the maid.*

Charlie: “Grand Vizier Niffty, I call upon your most treasured guidance once more.”

Niffty: “Stab the angel.”

She gives Charlie a large needle and a hand-sewn doll, adorned in red fabric.

Charlie: “Wh-What?”

Niffty: “Stab the angel.”

Charlie: “But that’s so meeeeeaaan….”

Niffty: “My Queen, you have a meeting with your dad in one hour. So either stab the angel, or we have to cancel your 6 o’clock.”

Charlie: *stabs the doll*

*LOUD ANGRY DEER NOISES REVERBERATE THROUGH THE HOTEL*

Charlie: “Uh…”

Niffty: *Laughs maniacally* “It really worked!”

Charlie: “What did?”

Niffty: “Alastor showed me this book on doll making. It said you could make them do things! So I tried it. I made one of everybody, see?!” *she holds up dolls of Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, and Lucifer*

Charlie: “Oooohkay… Maybe we should be extra careful with those.”

*Niffty runs off with the dolls, giggling. Charlie is now worried. Hopefully Niffty forgets about them in time.*

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Do you think Vox or Velvette have any employees they "favour", like Valentino with Angel Dust?

(Also, we know they're horrible bosses, but in what way do you think they abuse their employees? Is it more verbal, physical or a mix of both?)

In what way do you think they abuse their employees? is such a Vees' Stan question to ask. Not if, just how sksksks /lh

I think that Valentino and Angel's thing is super unique, it's not just workplace abuse. They've got history, like decades worth. Angel isn't just another employee; he's Valentino's former partner. I really don't think Vox and Velvette have anything like that going on with anyone else.

That said, I'm pretty convinced Vox bangs the Eel Assistant now and then, thanks to Twitter convincing me (I'm not really shipping it because it screams dubious consent, but I do think it's a thing). Talking about Vox, I've mentioned before how he's all about gaslighting his staff. He's slick with it, especially using it to cover up his own fuck ups. Yes, he's competent but but let's be real, he's also a bit of a chaotic mess and kinda delusional. So, he probably makes some questionable decisions but than puts the blame on others. Also, I have this idea that key VoxTek staff—his personal entourage, managers, engineers, and other pivotal figures—are implanted with microchips (you see this thing on the guy's head???). This not only speaks to Vox's obsession with control, enabling him to monitor and evaluate their performance (with chips linked to VoxTek servers functioning as security keys), but also to electrocute them remotely as a form of discipline or to his own entertainment.

Velvette has a more progressive approach to running her company. You know, like those corporations that have a "People and Culture" department instead of "Human Resources". Her top employees, notably models and content creators, remain untouchable due to their public visibility, necessitating a different management style. She's harsh, and definitely not above manipulation and verbal abuse, but she keeps her favorites happy, in a state of dependent satisfaction. It's all about that influencer magic, isn't it? People tune in to live vicariously through these glossy, picture-perfect lives, dropping cash on anything influencers sell, just to feel a fraction of their happiness. So, the folks at Vitch (don't @ me, I had to came up with some brand name) are all in, trying to hit the mark and bask in the glory Velvette dishes out to her faves. But Velvette's expectations are impossibly high, fostering an environment where her subordinates are perpetually striving for an approval that's always just out of reach.

[v-vox-v]

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[voxteks-sharkweek]

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Swim safely!

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