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michaelasworlds-blog · 2 days ago

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I..I love it!!!! I’m in a trance!!! I need more Vox x reader

I'm late but Happy Valentine's Day y'all 💗 a huge huge huge thank you to my lovely @fraugwinska for this lovely banner she created for me for this fic bc I was struggling xD also a big thank you to my wives @hazelfoureyes @sugoi-writes @minkdelovely for the idea 👀

Vox has a very special outfit for you for Valentine's Day.

Tags: Vox in Lingerie; gratuitous descriptions of said lingerie; deepthroating; mirror sex; porn with Feelings™️

When Vox had shown up at your apartment door to take you out for an evening, he looked fantastic as he always did. You thought he looked great no matter what he wore- his usual business casual, the ‘dressed down’ version with his rolled up sleeves and just his vest, the shark adorned pajama pants you had gotten him as a joke that he slept in twice a week minimum. But this Vox was something you weren’t treated to often. That smooth, suave smile of his in place when he met you on the stoop; the dark blue of his complexion complimented by the smooth black fabric of his suit; a bright red flower perched in his breast pocket that matched the bowtie at his throat.

Perfection- he wore the brand of his company well.

He threw an arm around your shoulders confidently, only to nearly jump a mile when you threaded your arm around his back like you usually did. Eyebrow quirked, you smile when you see the blush that takes over his screen but allow him to guide you without comment into the back seat of the limo he had ordered for the two of you.

Setting into the comfortable leather, you go to rest your hand on his knee and he jerks out of your reach, scooting almost all the way across the seat. “You’re unusually jumpy today,” you remark, and the blush returns, tinted pixels across his screen that he probably doesn’t even realize are giving him away.

He waves you off. “It’s not every day I’m going on an honest-to-Satan date with a gorgeous Sinner on Valentine’s day,” he grins back, finally coming closer and wrapping an arm across your shoulders again, body angled slightly away. “Forgive a guy for being a little nervous- I don’t want to mess anything up tonight.” The smile he gives you is soft, downright adoring, and your own face flushes dark with heat as you look away.

The silence between you is never awkward. There had been times, when you were still just one of Velvette’s assistants, that moments that weren’t filled with talking or laughing or moaning felt stifling- as you had gotten to know each other that faded, and now you spent evenings in his penthouse seated at the bar together; looking over magazine spreads while he read emails in silence, hand clasped together resting on the countertop between you.

The restaurant he takes you to is fancy, expensive, and packed- like one would expect on a holiday like this one. But Vox, of course, had sprung for a VIP experience, seating you at a table on a balcony overlooking the crowd, soft candlelight filling the space and enough roses to choke a cupid. Ever the fashion enthusiast, you delighted in the opportunity to people-watch from above, eyes gliding appreciatively- and sometimes judgingly- across the outfits that the masses of Hell had worn out for the special occasion.

When Vox flags the waiter down, he catches his fingers on the edge of his collar and tugs gently- just enough to loosen the tightness of his bowtie a smidge. And as he does so you catch sight of it, a glimpse of bright color at his throat that contrasts beautifully against the dark navy of his skin.

Lace.

Your stomach turns with such a sharp bolt of arousal that you’re almost embarrassed by it. Your cheeks flood with heat while he speaks with the waiter, muttering as he gestured to the menu and complained about the wine choices that were available. His shirt has returned to it’s normal position; the sight you had caught was so brief that you could almost think that you had imagined the delicate scrap of red were it not for the conversation you had had with Vox months ago.

Tipsy on whiskey in his penthouse a few months into your entanglement, Valentino had swanned in to complain and strode out with the same sass he usually had about him, and your eyes had lingered as he spoke on the bright teal crisscrossed lines of the top he wore. They drew your eyes to specific places strategically- the arch of his collarbones, the V of his abdomen, the sharp angles of his hips. Val might have been an asshole most of the time, but you would concede that the moth knew what looked good; especially on himself.

Vox had caught the look on your face while his partner had been talking. “Got your eye on Val?” He had asked a little testily, eyes narrowed as his fingers settled a little more possessively onto your thigh where you sat next to him, legs draped sideways across his. “One powerful Vee not enough for you, doll? Trying to collect a set?”

You had rolled your eyes, scooting closer to fully perch yourself in his lap so you could run your fingers over his skin, trail them teasingly down the sides of his screen. “You’re the only one for me,” you assured him, and pretended you didn’t hear the little wheeze of relieved air from the fans on the back of his head. “I was just admiring Val’s outfit- pretty packaging is pretty packaging, regardless of the present underneath. He always looks good, especially when he wears stuff like that. I appreciate it when a man isn’t afraid of a little lace and color.”

He had chuckled, low and dark as he leaned in and trailed his tongue along the column of your neck. “I’m not afraid of anything,” he whispered, the heat of his screen warm and comforting against your cheek. “You wanna see me dolled up, is that it? Wrapped in some delicate, frilly nonsense like this?” He had slipped his hand up under your shirt then, his thumb brushing gently across the soft satin and lace that covered the underside of your breast, forcing a breathy moan from your lips to ghost across his screen. “I think it looks better on you, but… we could talk about it.”

“You- ahh, you would do that for me?” His claw had flicked across your nipple through the thin fabric, his other hand coming up to turn you so you were facing him properly in his lap and starting to divest you of your clothing, paying a little more attention than he normally did to properly taking your underthings off rather than just tearing them. “Really?”

You remembered how turned on you had been just at the implication- that he would dress up for you, put that ruthless businessman facade on the shelf for a bit so you could ogle him in pretty clothing, maybe even lingerie if his automatic pull to your own undergarments could be a hint at what he would be willing to do. He had agreed enthusiastically as he stripped you, but once your clothes were off the idea had taken a back seat to riding Vox until his screen glitched out.

You thought he had forgotten; something he had probably dismissed as drunken rambling on your part, and an unspoken promise he would never have to fulfill on his end. But now that the possibility of it was there- that he was wearing something soft and pretty under his suit, just for you- you couldn’t shake the consuming lust that now boiled low in your abdomen, a flutter of the walls of your cunt at the thought.

The thought of it was hot- confirmation would be devastating.

You had to know. You wait until the waiter leaves and then you toe off one of your impractical heels and reach across the scant distance under the table, and Vox jerks in his seat when you make contact with the clothed surface of his calf. His eyes are wide when he looks up at you, the blush back in place, and the fact that his usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be found is the most damning evidence so far- this would hardly be the first time you had fooled around in public. Any other night he would be scooting his chair around to be closer to yours, sliding his fingers up under your dress to find you bare of any panties, casually unzipping his slacks under the cover of the tablecloth.

That he freezes like a deer is all the proof you need.

You brush your toe teasingly along the back of his muscle, leaning forward with your elbows on the table. “You look really good tonight,” you say, just loud enough for him to hear without having to enhance his audio processors.

He tries to play it off, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap as he chuckles. “That’s all part of the image, baby,” he tells you. “I can never look less than my best when I’m out- that’s why I keep you on my arm.”

He’s trying to deflect, you can tell- he knows something is up, that you suspect. But you didn’t end up a permanent fixture in Vox’s bed by playing coy about what you wanted, so you let your foot trail even higher, along the curve of his knee to rest on the firm muscle of his thigh. And there- Something firm under the fabric of his pants. You could feel the seam of something- a garter maybe, which made your breath catch and your panties damp. He hadn’t just thrown on a pretty top under his clothing and called it a day.

He had dressed up in a whole set for you.

You tug lightly at the strap that you feel under your foot, and Vox’s screen whites out for a moment. When his face blinks back on, an error message runs along the bottom: ohfuck.exe repeated in a rapidly blinking line. “Mmm, but I think you look extra good tonight. You know how I feel about good things in pretty packages.” You reach the final distance across the space between you, settling your foot directly in the gap between his thighs and pressing lightly. “Do you have something for me to unwrap later, Vox darling?”

And Sweet Satan, what a thrill it was to watch one of the most well spoken and influential men in Hell stutter over his words as he tried to speak. “I don’t- ahem, I’m not sure what you mean?” He stiffens his shoulders, grabs your foot between his legs in an effort to regain control of the situation. “And even if I did, something like that would be a surprise.”

You can feel the swell of his erection through his pants even as he tries to divert the location of your foot away from it. “I’m certainly surprised,” you concede, “and I can’t wait to see everything you have in store for me.” The waiter returns to pour you both a glass of some fancy wine that you can’t pronounce, and you take a sip while watching him over the rim of your glass through lowered lashes. After taking your orders he steps away again, and you admit defeat and remove your foot from Vox’s grasp.

That doesn’t mean that you’re giving up entirely though. “Why don’t you join me over here?” You offer, gesturing to the open space beside you while you use a toe to drag your heel close and slip it back on- you flutter your lashes deceptively. “I promise I’ll behave.”

You had no plans to do any such thing. And he doesn’t look like he believes you, but he scoots his chair closer anyway, careful not to disturb the table as he moves to sit in the most optimal position for you to misbehave under normal circumstances- on your right, with his back facing the thick curtain that blocked you from the rest of the restaurant. In a show of good faith, you keep your hands to yourself for the moment, pleased when he leans over to press a light kiss to your forehead before settling back into his chair.

You wait until he’s taken a sip of his own wine before reaching over to ghost your hand along his spine.

Vox chokes, quietly coughing under his breath while you touch him over his suit. And you can feel it; the thick strip of a bra where the hooks rest, the straps that reach up over his shoulder, some other pieces that you can’t identify but are dying to set your eyes on. You’ve hardly started to reach towards his waist to see what delights awaited you there when he finally regains his composure and grabs your arm. He intertwines his fingers with yours and sets them together firmly on the table.

“What happened to behaving yourself?” He says lowly, and you reach across with your other hand to caress the edge of his casing.

“How can I behave myself when I know something so tantalizing is waiting for me when we get home?” You tilt your head to one side, giving him your most pleading look. “I’m more than half tempted to forgo dinner altogether to get what I want, but I know you put a lot of thought into the date.”

You’ll never tire of watching his screen go red with an artificial blush. “Actually most of the actual planning went into the- surprise,” he admits reluctantly. “Who knew custom-made items like this took so long to make? The reservation was a well placed phone call and a threat to drag their name through twelve different kinds of shit on every channel; I just thought you’d want- you know, a little more of that romantic shit than we usually go for.”

You can feel your seductive expression fade and go soft, and you squeeze his hand tightly in yours. “I am having a great time here,” you tell him, “but in truth, there’s very few things that I can think of that are more romantic than knowing you’ve stepped out of your comfort zone- clothing wise- to do something fantastic for me.” You reach out and tug at his bowtie, getting another hint of that red fabric under his collar before you lean in, whisper gently into his audio processors. “It’s incredibly sexy and I haven’t even seen it yet.”

“Fuck me,” he breathes out. His screen glitches again, a fleeting crackle of white across it before he coughs and straightens his shoulders. “Right then- if you’re okay with it, doll, I suggest we get the fuck out of here.” He stands and offers you a hand, the picture of a suave gentleman- anyone else would never think that he was rushing to leave so you could strip that suit off him to see the lingerie he wore underneath it.

“Perfectly okay with me.” You take his hand and let him lead you out of the balcony, swiping the bottle of wine on your way. Vox ignores the protest of the waiter as he pulls you along, and the certain ridiculousness of the sight- Hell’s most notorious CEO dragging his girlfriend out of a distinguished restaurant by the hand while she clings to a pilfered bottle of expensive wine- was enough to make you laugh, a loud sound that drew attention as the pair of you raced through the restaurant. Vox heard the sound and grinned over his shoulder at you, a text bubble in the bottom corner of his screen confirming that his driver was already waiting at the front.

You pile into the limo, careful not to spill the wine as Vox clambers in after you, pulling you in close to kiss at your throat. “I hope you know how fucking nerve-wracking this has been,” he mutters, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin. “The things I do for you-”

“Are very much appreciated,” you say, “and definitely getting you laid tonight.” He groans into your ear, hot and low, and nearly sputters when you pull back. “But we’re not fucking in the limo. We’re waiting until we get home so I can peel that sexy fucking suit off you and see exactly what you have for me.”

He grumbles under his breath as you separate and take a long swig of the wine straight from the neck before passing it over to him.

The ride back to Vee tower feels too long, and your skin buzzes with anticipation, adrenaline and a simmering arousal that makes you feel as though your blood is on fire. You’ve hardly pulled into the parking garage before Vox reaches across the seat and pulls you into his chest, the door opening while the vehicle was still moving to zap the pair of you into the tower’s electrical system.

You’re deposited directly into the Penthouse bedroom; as reluctant as you are to pull away from him, the lights are completely out and the whole point of this was to see him. You mumble as much into his throat and he changes whatever setting he has to bring the room to brightness before you bite down and suck a dark bruise into the skin- one that would look lovely above that first bit of red lace you had seen.

He releases you and reaches for his buttons, nerves giving a barely noticeable tremor to his hands. “Just gonna sit back and enjoy the show?” He asks, and an eyebrow quirks when you still his fingers with your own and move them out of the way.

“Let me,” you say. “I want to be the one to do it- to unwrap you. You have no idea how much I need this.” And at your request his hands fall limply to his sides to let you have your way.

Inch by inch his suit was divested, revealing a vision so tantalizing you had to fight to keep your hands on his clothing instead of his skin. Vibrant red everywhere you looked- as you unbuttoned his shirt you were treated to a feast of silk and lace that clung to his skin like it had been painted on with a masterful, loving hand. What appears to be a fabric collar rested at his throat, the culprit of the first glimpse that you had gotten back at the restaurant- it sat pretty in the hollow of his throat, a strap bisecting his chest before it parted ways to wrap around his back, just above his waistline. The bra that covered his chest had nothing to truly fill it, but your mouth watered regardless when you tested your restraint and dipped your thumb beneath the cup to brush across one of his nipples- likely sensitive after wearing the unfamiliar material so long, Vox hissed at the sensation as you continued to undress him.

Reaching the buttons at his abdomen, a tight corset is hidden beneath the fabric, straps descending below the waistline of his pants to attach to the long socks that he had mentioned. The need to see him overwhelms you, your panties soaked beneath your own clothes that you hadn’t bothered to start removing yet, but the strip was part of the fun. You got to watch him lose his breath as you popped the button on his slacks, letting them simply pool high on his thighs where your leg was shoved between them while you positively drool at the tight cinch of his already thin waist. It doesn’t seem to be cutting into his skin, fitting like it was made for him- and knowing that he likely wouldn’t have gone to Velvette for this, you wonder distantly how he had gotten something so perfectly custom. You take a half step back, letting the fabric of his pants finally fall to his ankles without your thigh between his legs in the way.

Fuck.

Thigh high stockings, a sheer crimson, encase his legs, held in place by a simple snap that connects to the corset. And at the apex of his thighs, dainty panties that make the swell of Vox’s erection look obscene. You allow yourself a moment of contact, a hand placed gently on his arm to turn him so you could take a look from the back as well; he complies without protest, rotating on one stocking-clad heel. The back of his body is another landscape of beauty, dark navy interrupted only by the occasional light mark of a scar and the lingerie. Normally you didn’t pay much mind to his ass- he was obsessed with yours, but never gave you much of a chance to ogle his in return- but the thin strip of scarlet that peeked between his cheeks made it look pert, plush. The top of the panties rested enticingly on his hips, just below the bottom of the corset; the lines that the rest of the ensemble made were just as maddening, crisscrossed along his back and bringing your attention to the subtle musculature of his entire body, covered as it was in soft, sweet packaging. The femininity of the ensemble emphasized how toned he was, delicate frailty adorning his masculine form in such a way that you ached to press trembling lips to everything you could reach.

“Sweet Satan,” you finally mutter under your breath, the air leaving your lungs in the face of such awe-inspiring sensuality, and Vox stiffens up in front of you.

“Haah, finally gonna say something?” He asks, his hands clenching into fists at his side- you can tell he’s fighting the instinct to move them, to cover himself up. “Not as good as Val makes it look, I’m sure, but-”

“Shut up,” you interrupt him sternly, “and let me look at you.”

Your silence until now seems to have made him self conscious, like he didn’t just know somehow that your restraint was a mere thread of a tether keeping you from shoving him into the bed and clearing any thoughts from that boxy head of his. You turn him around again, this time allowing yourself to touch the bits of bare skin beneath your fingers until he’s facing you again, then stepping up on your tiptoes to kiss him with a shuddering breath.

He finally touches you back, pulling you closer as you slip your tongue into his mouth, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your soft stomach. This was always one of your favorite parts of spending time together- unhurried kissing, gentle touches, simply taking the time to drink your fill of one another. “How can someone so intelligent,” you ask him as you pull away from his screen, “be so blind?” You press your lips to his pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of his heart where you’re connected, another physical reminder of the way that you affect him beyond making him hard. He’s nervous to be exposed in front of you like this, unaware of how desperately you need him, how fucking fantastic he looked doing this for you. How much you adored him in any state that he would offer himself to you.

You step away at last and give him a gentle nudge towards the bed; his knees simply give out, not so much sitting as falling onto the edge of the mattress, his hands coming out to the sides as a support to keep him upright. You settled yourself on your knees before him, reaching up to wipe a spot of red drool from his screen where it had fallen from his slack mouth.

“Stunning,” you said softly, running your hands up and down the warm skin of his thighs around the straps of the garters. His screen tints with the red of his blush, another color well complemented by the stark red of the lingerie he wore. His cock strains against the fabric of the panties, a dark spot at the tip where he’s been leaking since you started to undress him, and the sight makes your mouth water. You start at his knee, placing light kisses and gentle nips to the soft skin there before slowly moving upward, lips trailing the whole way.

When you reach the garter you hold it aside with a finger so you can slip your tongue underneath it, dragging the muscle across Vox’s heated flesh. “You’re so fucking sexy,” you tell him, and in your peripheral vision you can see the muscles of his abdomen clench, his cock jerking against the thin barrier of the panties. “I knew you would look so good in something like this- in anything really but fuck. I can’t decide if I want you to keep it on while you fuck me or if I want to tear it off with my fucking teeth.” You bare your sharp canines with a grin before pressing a kiss high on his upper thigh, close enough to the apex that you can feel the heat radiating off of him against your cheek. “You like that, right? Or at least, you like to be the one taking it off me. How does it feel to be on the other side of that?”

He groans low and deep in his throat, reaching a hand out to brush across your hair. “Fucking touch me already,” he demands, but his voice is thin and rife with a plea. ‘Come on, I got all dressed up for you- don’t I deserve a reward or something?”

“You deserve,” you tell him, finally coming closer to his cock and blowing a hot breath over the strain of fabric, “to be worshipped. Every fucking inch of you.” You ghost air along the length of him, finally leaning in far enough to place an open mouthed kiss along the shaft and suck lightly. You can feel the satin go damp under your lips as you work your way up, finally reaching the patch of fabric that was wet from his doing and savoring the salty taste of it under your tongue.

Vox groans above you, his voice rough with want and his cock spurting precum against the panties. It peters off into a whine when you bring your hands up to gently cup his balls, rolling and tugging them the way that you’ve learned he likes. “Fuck, you’re gonna fucking kill me,” he mutters. “I didn’t think you would like it this much, shit.”

You hum around what remains in your mouth, pressing a firm kiss to his covered cock as you pull back. “You underestimate how much I adore you,” you say, “and how good you look right now.” You slip a finger under the waist of the panties and pull them down slightly so you can take him fully into your mouth, the taste of him all musk and salt as you run your tongue along the underside. His fingers twist into your hair, firm and controlling, and his breath leaves him in a rough exhale when you suck hard. You bob your head, all suction and warm, wet heat around him, and the flex of his muscles under you is unbelievably sexy- you keep one hand running sensually up and down his calf, his thigh, wherever you can reach from your position between his legs.

The words that escape him are a litany of gibberish, phrases of “baby, fuck, please” that make your head buzz and your abdomen clench while you listen to him and drive him closer and closer to mindless pleasure. When you look up, his eyes are trained on you- his gaze is pleading molten heat, and he reaches another hand down to settle in your hair. “Please, sugar, fuck, please,” he’s begging, and knowing what he wants you let your throat relax so he can nudge you down further on his length. The head of his cock brushes the sensitive back of your throat and pushes further, muscles involuntarily convulsing at the intrusion.

You breathe through your nose as well as you can, unwilling to even blink at the picture before you. Vox’s eyes are closed now, his screen flashing static on and off with every flutter of your throat around him. He doesn’t let you do this often even though you both fucking love it, too afraid of hurting you to let you indulge in literally choking on his cock more than a couple times in the months since you had started seeing each other and become official. You think in this case you might like it even more than he does- something about being so completely full of him, his words a rush of pleas and curses and your name, makes your body tremble with want for him. You would do anything for him, just as he was doing for you- the very least you could do in return for the lingerie was making him spill down your throat before moving on to other events.

You redouble your efforts, once again gently handling his balls as you try to swallow around his cock. He swears, his breath heavy and labored as he pants your name and pulls you back ever so slightly. Your airway no longer blocked, you hum and moan, so determined to please him it aches in your chest. “God, baby, I fucking can’t- can’t hold on, you’re so good,” he praises, and his grip in your hair is released in favor of petting lovingly over your head, cupping your cheek. His hips jump beneath you, trying to buck forward as much as he can, pushing towards the back of your throat again.

You allow the motion, knowing how close he is- wound tight like a string, his whole body- decorated in lace as it is for you- is tensed and shaking, sweat pooling in the hollow of his abdomen, coating his skin. You take him as far as you can again, and he nearly sobs as he spends himself, thick and hot in your mouth.

He collapses back onto the bed, one hand coming off your head to reach blindly towards you. You take it, intertwine your fingers as you swallow and pull back, licking him clean before resting your head on his thigh. “I fucking love you,” he mutters, and this sends another shock of pleasure through you. Not just a physical sensation, it lights up your brain in the best way, and you press a kiss to the bared skin before you. “Seriously, you have no idea-”

“I do,” you tell him, and keep your hand in his while you try to stand from your position on the floor. You back up as much as you can while still holding his hand to get a look at the picture he makes- wiped of any stress, still lovely in his lingerie, his not-entirely-spent cock hanging out of the panties and resting against his abdomen, ready for whatever comes next. He was never done after just round- you sometimes went three, four times in a night before you were both fully satisfied, and you hoped this was one of those occasions.

You would never have enough of him. You would spend the rest of your afterlife in awe of this man and the lengths he went to make you happy in any capacity.

You release his hand long enough to strip yourself, clothes flying in all directions as you undress as quickly as you can to join him on the bed. You settle next to him and prop up on one elbow, looking down at him with a smile until he senses your gaze and opens his eyes, a confident, satisfied smile on his screen. “Hi, gorgeous,” he tells you, and you bend down to kiss him while letting your fingers roam over the landscape of his lace covered body. He returns the favor, grazing the tips of his claws over your bare skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Does this mean it’s my turn?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, nuzzling into his throat, your nose tickled by the lace there. “I’m not done ravishing you yet.”

“I’m a very good multi-tasker,” he whispers, dipping his fingers between your thighs to find you slick and open when he presses into you. “Come on, sweetheart, I know you can think of at least one position that benefits us both.”

And damn him, you can- several, if you’re honest, but only a few of them give you what you want, which is being able to see him, letting him see himself. You think you’ll settle for your own view in the meantime, let him crawl between your legs and hook your knees over his strong arms and have his way with you. His cock was already hard again, leaking onto his abdomen under your attentive fingers trailing over his skin, and when you grip him lightly he grins, sated and cocky while he crooks his own fingers inside you the way that you like.

His chest rumbles with a satisfied groan at the sound of your breathy whine, pulling away from him to provide room for him to roll to his knees and hover over you. Perpendicular on the bed, you let your head fall back over the edge of the mattress, catching sight of the mirror that hangs off the closet door across the room as Vox positions himself and sinks into the soaked, silken heat of you. It’s perfect- if he looks up from where he’s currently watching himself slide slowly in and out of the tight grip of your body he’ll see what you see, the breathtaking view of him covered in fragile crimson that clings to the lines of his frame.

He sees it a moment after you do, redirecting his gaze from where he’s spearing you on his cock to your extended throat, finally to the mirror directly across from him. His smile goes dangerous, catching your eye in the reflection. “Clever,” he says appreciatively, watching himself bring a hand down to hold your hip as he jerks his own forward, a thrust that steals your breath and makes your body jolt. “Now we both get to watch, hm?”

He sets a steady rhythm, an even rocking of your bodies that sets a fire licking at your blood as he loses himself in it; every now and then his eyes drift closed or he glances away from the mirror, focusing instead on the sway of your tits as he fucks you or the grasp of your fingers on his where he has a hand planted for support. He’s drawn back time and time again though, finding his reflection and staring as if transfixed by what he sees, by what you’ve seen the whole time- beauty, plain and simple, in whatever he wore, all that he did.

“Looks good,” you manage over the slick noises of your sex, eyes trained on the strap of his bra that had slipped from his shoulders and now hung loosely by his bicep. You reach up and fix it for him, then wrap your fingers around the lace bit at his throat to pull him down to meet your lips. “Perfect,” you whisper into his mouth, and the desperate noise that he makes in response makes you clench hard around him, the walls of your cunt flooding with evidence of your arousal and fluttering over his cock. “Come on, say it.”

He lifts his head slightly, and you watch him look over his own form, screen to shoulders to where the sight fades to darkness where you’re connected. “Fuck, looks fucking good,” he agrees, “feels good.” He slows down, drags out his withdrawal from your core until just the head is left inside of you. He repositions the hand on your hip, slips it underneath you to grab your ass and pull you even harder into his thrusts when he resumes, watching the way his muscles flex and contract between the swatches of red. He was so fucking strong, and the lingerie only highlighted that rather than taking away from it in any way. You love the way he’s looking at himself, finally seeming to understand why you wanted this if the way he pants is any indication when his pace quickens, fingers digging into your supple flesh.

When you reach your free hand down to rub at your clit to race him to the finish line he swats your fingers out of the way, bringing his attention back to you. “Fuck, baby, let me do it,” he begs, pressing the pad of his thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves, untouched so far but electrifying when he makes contact. “Wanna make you come, you’re so fucking good to me-”

Ever the perfectionist, once he’s put his mind to something- he knows your body as well as his own, knows the exact pressure and speed that has you pushed over the edge with a hoarse cry of his name. Light explodes behind your eyelids, pleasure ripping through your limbs like a flash of electricity that starts and ends where you’re connected; Vox is still chasing his own end, his thrusts faltering as he keep his fingers working you through it, his voice a distorted stream of “yes, fuck, please” interspersed with your name and terms of endearment.

Static flashes across his screen as he tips over the precipice, his voice caught low in his throat as he grunts and pushes hard against you, claws digging dangerously into the skin of your ass and pulsing hard in the grip of your cunt. When he pulls out he slips his fingers in where his cock had been, open and messy, coating his fingers in your combined releases before bringing them up to wind his tongue around them, sending another devastating beat of pure want through you despite the fact that you’ve just finished.

He finally slides his knees back and collapses on top of you, the warmth of his screen comforting where he’s pressed against your clavicle, and you let your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders and trace light trails along his back. The lace of his ensemble was a little itchy where it touched you, and your appreciation of the night increases tenfold as you realize he had put up with it for you, to give you this. You land a kiss on his casing and feel him smile against your skin, pressing one of his own to your sternum.

“You really know how to make a man feel like the most important guy in all of Hell,” he murmurs, the words ticklish and soft. “Even looking like this.”

You tip his head up to meet his gaze. “I’ll tell you my secret- it’s because you are. To me, anyway,” you add with an embarrassed flush. “Naked or decked out like this, your suits, your pajamas; you’ll always be the center of my attention for the simple fact of who you are and what you mean to me. I love you.”

“I love you too, but come on,” he says with a chuckle, gathering you to his chest and flopping back into the silk sheets. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

You grin, your limbs relaxed and pleasantly tingly as you rest your head on his chest. “Can’t help it- you just look so good in red,” you tease, plucking at the strap of his bra, and your laugh is lost into his mouth when he pulls you in for a final searing kiss.

fun fact Vox's blush was purple until the very end of this fic and then I went back and changed it so I could use that last line LOL

another huge thank you to my beloved Frau for finding this GORGEOUS lingerie as inspo for what Vox is wearing, I owe you my life

so uhhh yeah 6.5k words of me thinking Vox would be extra hot in this. enjoy lol

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #x reader #vox fanfiction #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader

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