#vox being vox

[fraugwinska]

Since @chefskjssart's artwork that I commissioned was such a BANGER, I felt like I needed to do something to show my gratitude. So, I messaged her and gave her free choice over a little One-Shot I'd gift her. And that's how we ended up here :D Where are my little TV Sluts at? You can thank Chef - and I hope you all have fun ;>

NSFW - Explicit Sexual Content - Minors DNI - 5.7k words

"Gotta say, Val, the revenue of your movies really skyrocketed this quarter, fuck me."

Vox flipped through the quarterly reports, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face while Valentino, very pleased with himself, lounged on the chaise next to Vox's desk, smoking.

"I told you I've made a good investment." He grinned and blew out a puff of smoke. "All the horny bitches out there are eating my movies up."

"It's more than that, you're even making headway into other rings, holy shit! We've even got a foot in the Lust Ring market, which is almost impossible with that kind of competition..."

Valentino hummed approvingly.

"And the best part: I didn't have to do much." He added and let the tip of his cigarette rest against his lips, his grin widening. "My newest author is a kinky little genius."

Vox turned his attention to the papers again, his smile slowly turning into a frown as he scanned the declining sales in Voyeurscopes.

"What are you talking about? All of your authors write pretty much the same shit, what could be so special about-"

Valentino laughed and shook his head. "That one is - believe me, carino. Poor bitch has the mind of a succubus on crack but she can't get off."

Vox looked up, an eyebrow raised in skeptic questioning.

"Can't get off?"

"Can't feel anything. Can't cum for the life of her." He replied, leaning back and spreading his arms. "Numb like a fucking dead fish."

"Or maybe she just hasn't found a good dick." Vox mumbled, returning back to the reports, skimming over the numbers.

"Mh, you be the judge amorcito. Because I tried." Valentino growled, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

Now that got Vox's full attention. The TV demon stared at his partner for a few seconds of silence, then laughed maniacally, almost falling off his chair while Val rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Fucking weird little thing, she is. She can write the craziest shit, the hornier the better. Writes like a damn porn beast, but has no clue what good sex actually feels like."

Vox heaved, wiping his screen as if in tears.

"Ohoho, Christ on a Cracker Val, maybe you've been out of the business too long… are you maybe losing that golden touch?"

Valentino sneered. "Ay, and you think you would've been able to get that bitch to cum? Be my guest, I'll gladly watch you fail."

Vox grinned at the moth, his eyes dangerously teasing. The reports were long forgotten - this was too entertaining, and Vox loved to be challenged, because he loved the feeling of superiority he felt when he succeeded. And that feeling would be so much more satisfying when he'd beat his long time partner and porn prince of pride at his own expertise.

"Wanna up the ante? Make a little wager out of it?"

Valentino scoffed, then chuckled deviously. He took another drag from his long cigarette, his cerise teeth glistening with red saliva as he began to drool in anticipation.

"You know I like to play, Voxxy. Especially if the odds are so much in my favor."

Another script done.

Your best one yet, if anyone asked you. But you knew no one asked ever, so why bother?

You stood up from your desk in your private office - being Val's favorite pen pet had it's perks afterall.

You skipped the stage of employment where you'd be cramped in one of these horrible cubicles together with the other overworked, caffeinated and tired writers, typing another outdated secretary-fuck-fest-plot while the other employees complained about their last bad lay and the shitty pay.

At least you didn't have to deal with any of that. Your room was quiet and peaceful, the door able to be locked shut and the walls soundproof. No distractions, no chit chat, no loud coworkers or malfunctioning printer noises. Just the humming sound of your computer, and the whirring of the A/C Val had granted you - a luxury that most of your colleagues bitched about behind your back.

You stretched, your tired bones popping into place and you sighed. You were done for the day. Finally.

With the deadline looming over you, you had been a bit late with the last part, and the thought of being late with your work made you sick. But Val pressed for another banger (pun intended) like your last one, 'Dante's Infern-Hoe' and you didn't want to risk the benefits you were offered so temptingly by being sloppy.

But the script for 'The Devil wears Nada' sat now, freshly printed, next to your laptop, the file saved locally and in the cloud, with about an hour to spare still. You smiled, content and relieved. An hour of paid slacking off was nice, and you checked with a glance that the electric door still was set on LOCKED before you flopped down at the two-seater by the window, grabbing the remote from the small side table and turned on the TV.

A familiar voice spoke through the speakers, and you relaxed into the pillows with a small sigh, eyes closed.

As shitty as the program in Hell was, one thing it had going for it was Vox. That smooth, hypnotizing voice of the overlord that held pride's media empire in his claws was a delight to your ears, and even the mindless, overplayed commercial jingles were pleasant enough if he was the one narrating them.

For the millionth time, it seemed, your hand wandered under the hem of your pants, fingers rubbing lazily at your cunt, as you listened to him talk, advertising the latest angelic protection device that didn't do what he promised it to do.

It was insanity at this point, doing something over and over again expecting a different outcome. Every night your fingers were cold and wet with your slick and your clit bloody and raw while you felt nothing of even your most violent and feverish touches, trying for minutes to hours to experience a sensation you wrote daily about without the satisfaction of any remarkable buildup or release.

It was no use, you knew it was a fruitless attempt, just like all the others. The most you got out of your endless tries was a slight tingle one time where you were so desperate you fucked yourself with an electric rod on its highest setting, resulting in a power outage in your apartment and a big fat fine from your landlord a few days later.

Still, you craved it. Craved to one day feel at least something. After the disappointing One-Night-cannot-Stand-the-thought-of-it with your boss, the literal porn mogul you were ready to just give up. If the face of pride’s sexdrive couldn’t get you over the edge, was there any chance at all?

Valentino had been the last in a long line of desperate attempts, paartners ranging from incubi, paid whores, porn actors to even sexbots made by Asmodeus, costing you a pretty penny just for the hassle of trying to get through the return hotline to get your money back, explaining No, you don’t know how it was possible that the cock of the ‘Fuckboy 3.0 XXL’ broke into pieces after one time usage. 

You chuckled humorlessly at the memory - It was truly a pathetic time in your eternal existence, filled with you masturbating alone in bed like a sad porn star, yearning to experience sex like you wrote about in your scripts. Maybe this was hells way to punish you for your sins, your personal plan of torture - To never experience the very thing that possessed you on the daily.

The television droned on in the background, Vox advertising his latest technological developments; new features on your phone that you really could not care less about. Despite his unusual appearance, Vox was one of your absolute go-to Stand-in's for your plot protagonists. Charming, suave, depraved when called for and a dominating, thorough lover that took what he wanted, but with so much skill that his partner would cum threefold before he'd even begin to think about finishing. Cocky and yet sensual. Aftercare included. All the things your colleagues were too dumb to include, no wonder their scripts were a bust.

Yes, it was hell and therefore tastes were more... depraved than in the living world, but that didn't mean the populus secret wishes for some sort of common sexual decency was out the window, goddamn.

Your mind wandered away from your depressive ruminations, your hand never stopping its circular pattern around your swollen clit as your thoughts started to wander to its usual place, the only way that came close to what you longed for and what was the source for all of your best-selling porn scripts. Your boundless realm of fantasy.

'Come out, come out, wherever you are...'

Vox is standing in your doorway, his silhouette prominent against the bright white neon light coming from the corridor of the empty floor. His suit, neatly fitted to every curve of his slender body, is showing just how thin his waist really is, but that does not come even remotely close to describe his broad shoulders and firm, wide chest, contrasting it deliciously. His navy blue skin reflects the harsh lighting in the hallway, his screen sharp and clear, digital eyes never leaving you as he closes the door behind him, dipping the room you're in in darkness, the only source of light his brightly illuminated screen where his digital, mismatched eyes are solely fixated on you, hiding behind the long backrest of your couch.

'Found you, babydoll.' he says with that god forsaken sultry voice of his as he reaches for your throat, long fingers wrapping themselves around your neck as your breath hitches and he pulls you up from your crouched position, his long tongue running over your collarbones, the wet trails feeling as cold on your skin as his appendage feels hot. 'Now remember what I said? Ready or not...'

He presses you into a wall, his big, hard erection rubbing teasingly through the layers of fabric on your already wet core as you whimper with want. '... here I cum.'

You moan his name, the imagined feeling so painfully surreal, and you wished once more that your working fingers would elicit some sort of real, bodily response.

A cough makes you freeze in your movements. Your fantasy shatters like a mirror shot with a bullet and your eyes fly open, expecting to see maybe a dumb segment of a rerun of 'Vox2Nite'. Instead, you see the actual, real TV demon overlord, standing live and in color just a few strides away with an expression that was a mixture of confusion, curiosity and slight annoyance.

"I'd ask if I am interrupting, but it seems you already had me on your mind, huh, doll?"

Realizing that you weren't - in fact - hallucinating, you immediately whipped your hand out from under your panties, sitting up, flustered like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. How did he get in? Did you forget to lock the door? No. Did he unlock it?! You must have missed his opening and closing of the door over the voice in your fantasy. The same voice that is now echoing in reality. Oh what a shameful ending for a perfectly good fantasy orgasm.

"Um... shit, sorry, Mr. Vox, sir. I was just, you know..." you scrambled, getting nervous under the actual gaze of him as he folded his arms, waiting for you to end that sentence with a pitiful smirk. Jesus Christ, those arms are slender and muscular…

"Thinking! Just thinking, making script... scenarios..."

"Uh-Huh. And how is that coming along?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by the display before him as he took a few steps towards you.

"Oh, uh, haha, I didn't really... finish..."

He stopped directly in front of you, shutting you up with a low chuckle and his hand around your wrist, the one attached to the hand that had been in between your folds just literal seconds ago, lifting them up to look at the still shimmering wet residue on your fingers with a sneer.

"Mhm. Yeah, I've heard you have some problems with that."

Now that was embarrassing as it was alarming, and you ripped your hand out of his grip. Or better, you tried to do so anyway. It was a pointless exercise, his hand had an iron-tight grasp around your wrist as he pulled you up with one swift motion, so fast you stumbled into him, face to chest, breath caught in your throat as you were made suddenly aware how huge he really was compared to you.

"W-wow, my kinda pathetic reputation precedes me it seems. That's..." just great is what you wanted to say, but all words failed you when he lifted the hand in his grasp to his face, his thick, long tongue slithering out of his mouth just to wrap itself around your digits, lapping up the sticky residue of your arousal, watching you as your pupils widen and you squirm in his grip, mortified and turned on at the same time.

"Eh. Not as pathetic as my business partner's failure to provide something he's built his reputation on, sweetheart. Unusually smart of him to get you under contract before you shout it from the rooftops." He hummed as he tasted you, sucking in the pads of your finger hungrily and without hesitation, and all you could think of, frozen stiff like a deer in headlights, was: What the fuck is happening?

"But Val never had the kind of mindset I have... I don't do failure... or better said: I always finish what I start." His low rasp vibrated in the air around him, echoing in your head, and the heat his voice had brought to your skin left your mind racing. You asked yourself panicking if you had written too many dumb porn plots or if he was really implicating what you thought he was implicating.

"So, whaddaya say, doll..." His breath tickled your cheek as he leaned in closer, pulling you flush against him, a soft grunt of content as his hard dick pressed into your soft belly, his mouth right next to your ear, one of his hands running teasingly down your sides as he licked your ear shell. "...care to see if I can end your unlucky streak?"

'Fuck, yeah.' You thought, and almost moaned out loud as you let your head fall back to make room for his waiting mouth, when suddenly you stopped in your tracks. His hands were already groping over you greedily, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your breasts as he looked down on you, surprised to see your conflicted face.

"W...Wait. What's in it... for you?"

"Mh, you're clever. That's a new one." Vox laughed, his hand running up to the side of your face to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles on the corner of your lip. "Me and Val made a little bet, you see, and well... Let's just say: I want this to work out just as much as you do, since my success depends on yours."

"Oh.." So Val was talking about you, that bastard. He had you sign an NDA when he hired you, given that you had been unwilling to make a soul contract with him, but you guessed that that had been naively one-sided. Asshole.

Vox stroked your bottom lip, parting them before you opened them slightly on your own accord, his dark blue tongue languidly tracing the edges, waiting for your decision, coaxing you to decide in his favor. And even though you were kind of pissed at Valentino for running around telling people about your... situation - you couldn't deny it was tempting, turning fantasy into reality. And what was another overlord trying to do the impossible? Worst case - he'd try and fail, just as all the others did before, like the stupid moth pimp. At least you'd have some leverage for maybe another good deal for your silence on it. And in the highly unlikely best case…

With your decision made, you flicked your own tongue against his, humming at the unfamiliar taste and the sizzling static electricity on your tongue. Vox grinned, his sharp teeth pressing onto your lips, nipping at the sensitive flesh and growling with approval when your lips parted.

"Ohoho, baby, this is gonna be fun."

Vox ran his claws through your hair, loosening your already messy bun until your hair fell free with his playful pulls as he explored your mouth, deepening the kiss with every lick, until he could push his whole tongue into your mouth, moaning and grabbing the back of your head tightly as you let him fill you without the slightest hint of protest, fighting a desperate losing battle for air.

"Fuck, don't you need to... breathe?" you whispered after he finally pulled back, a wet trail connecting his tongue to yours, grinning down on you while your lungs burned for oxygen.

"Perks of being state of the art, sweetheart." he watched your swollen, drool covered lips - parted to catch your breath - for a few seconds longer before he inquisitively tilted his head. "Did you feel any of that?"

You contemplated lying, but figured honesty would probably be the best in this situation, shaking your head and giving him your most pitiful attempt at an apologetic smile, already bracing yourself for him to give up or get mad. "My lips tingle a little."

"Mh." He huffed as he pushed you back into the two-seater, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thump, and unceremoniously pulled on your very not-sexy-at-all sweatpants and slightly-more-sexy-but-not-quite panties until they slipped over your legs.

"How about this then?" He pressed his knee in between your legs to nudge them apart. "Can you feel any of this?" He spread your already wet slit open to run a cold claw over your hole, softly dipping first one, then two and lastly three of his fingers inside to stretch you further open and push it back in, repeating the movement slowly while keeping his eye contact trained on your face.

You hummed non-commitally, closing your eyes and pressing yourself into the cushions, trying to feel for any sensation that should come with every slow drag of his digits pumping inside of you, and not finding any of it was so fucking frustrating. You felt like you were not only disappointing yourself, but him, as stupid as that sounded. But with every added finger and still a lack of response, you saw the progression of frustrations in his face that you knew all too well - eyebrows furrowed, irritated twitches of the corners of his lips that turned into a snarl with the third added digit. You frowned, sighing and bit your lip - nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and fucking nothing again, just another wet hole, the clenching of your walls a habit and reflex only, no pleasure whatsoever.

"It's no fucking use..." you whined, pressing your hands to your face in frustration and fear of looking back into his eyes, "I can't feel anything at a-aaAAH...!"

Your back arched at this strange jolt running down your spine, forcing you to grind down on his hand as a strong electric current buzzed from his claw tips right through your cunt, curling in your stomach in a hot wave of wanton need and knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes flew open just in time to see the flash of victorious satisfaction on his screen before his face turned fuzzy as you began to tear up.

"There's some reaction. There we go, sweetheart." He cooed and curled his fingers in that deliciously sinful way again, making your breath catch in your throat. For the first time since you can remember, you FELT. You dropped your hands from your flushed, hot face onto the plush of the couch, fingers desperately digging into the fabric, and stared at Vox with wide eyes. He winked, nudging his head to his buried fingers, and with a shattering gasp you could see neon blue bolts of electric sparks traveling down his slender arm, crackling around the soft flesh inside of your pussy that had never felt so sensitive.

"How are y-aaaa.... aaa-AAah...." he silenced any questions you might have had or possible retort with another shock wave traveling through his hand as he dragged his fingers in and out in an agonizingly slow pace, it had your ears ringing with white noise and your eyes water with unknown, strange pleasure.

You were shaking, and though it should have frightened you a lot more than it did to be electrocuted while doing something that could be considered borderline treason to Valentino (And it still had your cunt dripping on a whim), but there was nothing left for you to think of other than the sharp shocks making every nerve inside of you buzz, your thighs already trembling in anticipation of the possibility of an unknown, but oh-so-wanted climax. Yet it was somehow still out of your reach, out of your range of senses.

"I feel like we are getting closer, babydoll." The TV demon chuckled darkly, his voice over amplified, the electrical buzz reverberating loudly in the soundless room. "How 'bout we kick it up a notch, huh?"

He pulled out his fingers in a quick, cruel movement, making your pussy clench around nothing as you already mourned the feeling. Before you had the time to voice your loss however, he had your thighs already in his hands, pushing them back to almost fold you in half and spread them apart as wide as he could get them without hurting you. With a smirk he stuck out his tongue, inhumanely long, thick on its base and pointed at the end - and let his electric energy visibly spark around it. Holy Shit.

The moment his head dipped down and his appendage swiped through your puffed, red folds, you could feel your insides buzz in sync to his delighted moan. He began eating you out feverously and obscenely, not holding anything back, just like you wrote your most popular protagonists to do - NO, this was so much better than anything you've ever written or fantasized about, his tongue twisting in patterns that felt like nothing you've ever even came close to imagine before. It was like he powered your whole nervous system, overriding every strand of nerve with his own electricity, amplifying any touch, any lick and any suction that would normally not even register a thousand-fold.

"O-Oh my g... F-fffuuuuhhh-ck.. meeee..." you moaned in confusion and amazement, your legs shaking helplessly on either side of Vox's rectangle head as he fucked his tongue into you, switching between the deep, long, thorough thrusts and fast, small, teasing flicks into the wet heat of your cunt, coating his screen in a shining mix of your natural juices and his blue neon saliva. He sucked at the protruding of your swollen bundle of nerves, your sensitive clit twitching under his attention - it was maddeningly unreal. You felt like a complete, utter sham - if this was sex, you've never written it anywhere correctly.

"I'm working on that, sweetheart."

Vox smirked against your pulsing core, humming with satisfaction at your wet, gaping slit begging for him to push back in and fill you up again, making you ache for his tongue deeper and deeper, forcing every shred of sense you had to leave your mind as you bucked into his grip in desperation, chasing another intense jolt he held just out of your reach as he laughed deviously at your hungry reaction to his teasing antics.

You didn't care how pathetic you looked, how undignified or desperate you sounded. This was nothing short of fucking fantastic, this all new, unknown sensation that you deemed impossible to ever experience and an real, tangible orgasm so close you could almost grab it. You felt a violent greed, you needed more of this, more more more, you needed to cum and you knew exactly that only Vox was able to do it - but you needed him inside of you, pushing you into oversensitivity, no matter what was required to get you over the edge. Fuck all dignity, that ship had sailed the moment your back hit the couch.

You shook your head vigorously, choking down sobs of grateful pleasure that racked your body with every curl of his tongue inside of you and a guttural moan, high pitched and broken.

"P-Please... ah, Pl..please..." you panted and Vox felt for your thighs to hold you steady. His claws sank in with such force into the soft meat of your legs he drew blood. "F... Fu..Fuck me.. please." you stammered and he smirked, a look of pure joy in his digital eyes as he stared you down.

"Oh, I will, baby." He smiled against your core, curling the tip of his tongue around your clit with just the right amount of pressure that your entire vision went blank with a broken cry and the strongest wave of static he'd managed to work you up to so far. "Don't worry about that, I'm not nearly done with you."

He fucked his long, slippery tongue back into your quivering pussy, his thumb taking the place on the sensitive bundle of nerves where his pointy tip had been and you cried out again as he found that one spot you've always read (and written) about. You had questioned it's actual existence, believing it to be one of those wishful myths girls dreamt and you by proxy wrote about - Until Vox and his fucking talented mouth and miraculous tongue brushed right up against it with expert accuracy. It made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth open to cry out as your back arched like a bow string.

"Yeah, there? F-Fuuuck..." The overlord growled, watching your blissful face twist with a new kind of overwhelming pleasure. "You gonna cum for me baby? Come on, let go, good girl..."

You knew the reader-pleasing phrase by heart. You used it a hundred times and fantasized about it even more - It shouldn't have that effect on you, but yet it was that comment of his, spoken in a raspy low rumble directly into your cunt that finally pushed you over the edge, leaving you panting helplessly and cumming.

Hard. Harder than you've ever dreamed about. Every nerve ending on overdrive, every hair standing on edge - it felt like getting struck by lightning, the static electricity sizzling through your blood vessels like a thunderstorm as he was still thrusting that goddamn magic tongue into your spasming hole through the clamping of your muscles, taking you through it with small, measured licks to keep you on the edge a little longer, whines and hiccups mixed with breathless laughs leaving your raw throat as you slowly returned to reality.

This was it, what you've always longed for, you realized after your vision came back to you, staring down at the smug looking TV demon who was still settled between your legs, his glowing screen painted with the remains of your climax. You managed to give him an exhausted smile, blowing a stray strand of wild hair from your face with a quick puff before dropping your head back in the pillow, absolutely spent. Vox pressed a toothy kiss on your thigh and pushed himself back to his feet.

"You've got quite the gushy orgasm, doll, damn..." he wiped a thick blotch of your arousal from the corner of his screen, the neon blue stained fingertip disappearing in his mouth as he hummed appreciatively and licked it away. Then he looked over you, slumped lazily on the sofa, your face flushed, your hair all tangled and the exposed pieces of skin covered with a shiny layer of sweat.

"Shit, sweetheart, you look goddamn good when you're all messed up like that..." He eyed you intently and leaned down, his heavy frame caging you in underneath him, one hand trailing a line from your still heaving chest, between your breasts and up to your throat.

"T-That was.. wow. Just... wow." Clearly illiterate and 50 IQ-points dumber post-orgasm, you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. While you were a little disappointed that you still hadn't really fucked, he did what he promised to do. Got you off - and how. You were grateful.

Sad that it was over, maybe even sadder that the chances of a repetition were likely zero - Vox was a goddamn overlord, and who were you other than a nobody with a hard-to-please cunt?- but grateful nonetheless. And you felt the need to let him know that.

"I don't know how to than... w-what are you doing?"

You sat yourself up on the elbows with a dumbfounded expression as Vox began to undress himself, his jacket, bow tie and undershirt discarded within seconds onto the ground and he practically pounced you as he began to undo the belt of his slacks, trapping you in between his legs and under the very prominent hard-on he sported.

"What, you really thought that was it? Make you cum once, win my bet and ding-dong-ditch like a fucking amateur?" Vox laughed as he pulled his massive length out of his pants - Words were your bread and butter but they would ever fail you to describe the gloriousness that was his cock.

Almost as thick as your underarm, smooth and almost shiny, glowing with built-in LED lights along the underside of his shaft and practically weeping with precum. He knelt down on the sofa, taking your hand to run it over its full length, smearing the sticky residue along your fingers, his almost bioluminescent cum dripping thick and slowly from the angry swollen tip. "Fuck no, sweetheart. In case you forgot, let me remind you..."

He leaned down to your ear, a violent electric bold jolting from his cock through your hand right into your overwhelmed, disbelieving brain as he guided you to line him up with your still throbbing entrance.

"I always finish what I start."

Vox had never been in a better mood.

His phone - finally surviving for more than just a few days, since his win against Valentino prevented the moth pimp from smashing it, even in one of his many temper tantrums - buzzed again. A notification of another upload into the cloud. He smirked when he saw the name of the user.

The whole conversation after he fucked Val's writing savant into Limbo and back had been a fucking blast for Vox - he reveled in the morbid joy of cashing in his stake while teasing Val that he'd have to wait another eternity for the chance to make Vox star in a double length porn with him - a fantasy of the moth Vox has been always against. Not to mention that Vox had accomplished what Valentino with all his 'mighty dicks and porn mastery'-aura couldn't. Which (rightfully) sent him into his biggest hissy fit yet, so enraged that, in lieu of Vox's phone to throw against the wall, he threw his newest Robo-Assistant Kitty out the window.

Although Vox had been certain he wouldn't lose the little bet against his partner, he still felt a little relief that his ass wasn't on the next new load of crappy porn DVDs. Granted, that would've surely caused sales to skyrocket - but with his revived and improved little star author that was more than just unnecessary.

Val's fears that a good dicking with a Happy End would sort of break the little writers 'Sex-Spell' and her scripts turn into shite like the rest of Val's useless crew produced proved to be the exact opposite. Ever since Vox made her cum - on his fingers, mouth and cock for multiple times that fateful night - her scripts improved even more, resulting in stellar sales reports, a major spike in cashflow and a personal inquiry letter for a meeting from Asmodeus himself (which Vox contemplated to frame and hang over his fucking bed like a medal of honor).

And since Valentino, in his hurt pride and childish, stubborn pettiness refused to speak or fuck with him, Vox had no qualms of paying his little writer a few more visits. Every time he found impish joy in finding new ways to make her cum, and after one shag-date where he actually stayed long enough for an after-sex-cigarette and some smalltalk, he discovered that she wasn't just a kinky, but also an interesting bitch with great taste in whiskey and a crude sense of humor that was just up his alley.

"I'm curious doll." Vox said as he took another drag from the cigarette before he handed her the bud, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her onto his bare chest as he lounged on the new, bigger sofa he got for her office (more space and much more versatility) "What the fuck did you do to end up in hell? You don't seem like the ax-murder type."

She chuckled mischievously. "I was a pretty popular crime author back upstairs. I hit a pretty bad writer's block, and decided to get in some field work to inspire me for more creative ways of murder. No axes, but I did have a fable for knives." She grinned, inhaling the thick smoke as he laughed and the way her tits pressed into his skin had him almost hard again. "You know what's the most ironic part?" She asked, putting the bud out in the ashtray on her side table and glanced back over her naked shoulder to him, a devious glint in her eyes. "I got the electric chair for that." That woke his cock fully up again, and he couldn't help but take her for another round.

His assistant babbled something about his schedule, but Vox didn't listen. Instead, he planned on visiting her office again, maybe he'd even stay after and order sushi for two, who knew? The media Overlord smiled smugly as he opened the database and looked over the newest script you had uploaded to the cloud. It was when he read the title that he burst into ringing laughter.

'Electrocutie - One Big Cock Shock'

[macabr3-barbi3]

*gets on knees* hello,,,,, I am,, muy hungr y.......... priest vox one-shot PLEAAAAASE.. perhaps Vox has taken a more Catholic turn with Voxtech to capitalise on the fact that being redeemed has suddenly become extremely popular since the Hazbin Hotel was rebuilt ('TRUST US! with YOUR redemption'), he doesn't ACTUALLY believe in any of it of course but anything for a buck. Idk how reader would end up there LOL but I can't stop thinking about him using the most dirty religious euphemisms AND MAYBE USING A ROSARY TO BIND READER'S(OR HIS IF UR FEELING REAL FREAKY) WRISTS RUFF RUFF BARK BARK BARK I'm totally normal (I'm losing my mind)

HELLO FRIEND I LOVE THIS (AND YOU SINCE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE LOL)

disclaimer that I am not religious, I took most of these bible verses and things at face value- Vox doesn't care about using them correctly why should I LMAO

going to Hell for this one lads anyone wanna carpool?

Tags: blasphemy, priest kink, fucking in a church, improper use of rosary beads, confession that is not up to code, exhibitionism? if you squint? improper use of bible verses

HOT PRIEST VOX IN THE BANNER FROM @chefskjssart AND THE BANNER ITSELF FROM @fraugwinska I LOVE YOU GUYS ❤️❤️❤️

When you arrive in Hell as the result of a car accident, the first thing you see is a billboard- there’s a television on it, of all things, one with a face that wore a confident smirk under eyes that seemed to promise something. What exactly it was, you couldn’t tell, but the bright, flashing words next to him caught your attention, like you were sure they were supposed to: “VoxTek presents VeeLigion- TRUST US! With YOUR Redemption!”

You spend a couple days trying to get your bearings, and you determine that Hell fucking sucks- before falling you had been stabbed a grand total of zero times, and within 24 hours you’d had a knife in you twice. Which, TV did a terrible job at depicting stabbings; it wasn’t a soft gasp and a betrayed glance at the person holding the knife, it was a burning flash of pain and a scream that echoed in your head even after you stopped, even after the wound miraculously healed and left you with holes in your clothing that exposed unblemished skin.

TV also painted a pretty inaccurate portrait of Hell as a whole. Sure, you’d been stabbed a couple times but it wasn’t all fire and brimstone- everyone else mostly left you alone, a fox-faced woman had given you a bandage and a half eaten sandwich while you sat bleeding in an alley outside, there were bakeries and regular storefronts, and maybe a few more sex shops than you had been anticipating. But it was a whole society like it was when you were alive, albeit with maybe less rules and consequences.

You see more advertisements from the guy with the television head (Vox, you had picked up from the newspapers and magazines that littered the sidewalks), promises of salvation to be found in his newly built church in Pentagram City, redemption at a low cost. You had seen other ads, from a place called the Hazbin Hotel, but regardless of how different Hell was from what you had imagined, you still figured that the Devil was bad- his daughter couldn’t have been much better. And the Princess of Hell just didn’t catch your attention like Vox had; come on, his head was a television, what choice did you have but to look at him?

And it was no real surprise that you had ended up here, despite the years of Catholic school and nuns striking the fear of God into you when your parents had decided that you were too much trouble as a teen and shipped you off for a few years. You had done your time, did the prayers and shit with your skirt just an inch or two above the regulated length, and as soon as you had the chance you were out of there, back to the fun life you had enjoyed before…

Even if you did now have the voice of Sister Lucy in your head when you went down on someone, telling you that idle hands- and probably lips- should only be used in service of the Lord.

But Jesus, was some premarital sex really enough to damn you to this shithole? The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to find your way to the center of the city to find that Church. Maybe the whole redemption thing was bullshit, but also maybe since it was a church they could give you shelter. A place to hide from the chaos on the streets while you figured out what the fuck you were going to do. You didn’t think you needed food to survive, really, but you would do almost anything for a hot meal in your mouth just for the comfort of it.

After getting directions- and another fucking stab wound, where the fuck were people getting these knives?- you make your way to the VoxTek church, and here’s another point against the Hotel. The thing is massive and gorgeous, blue and white stained glass that covered the building reflecting the red of the pentagram in the sky, Vox’s likeness front and center above the intricately detailed doors. It’s pristine, and perfect, and you’re suddenly very self conscious about the state of yourself, covered in blood with clothes that are the wrong brand of ‘holey.’ But you’re already here and on the steps, so there’s not much else to do but climb them and reach for the doors.

A tablet pops in front of you, ‘AdamAI’ engraved across the top. “Welcome to the VeeLigion church,” the thing says, the voice bored and haughty. “Entry starts at $5.99.”

“You fucking charge just to come in?” Maybe you shouldn’t swear at what looks like some sort of angelic device but fuck, really?

“A small price to pay for salvation!” It says, and little wings flick out of the sides to flutter, like it was trying to distract you. “Come on, don’t you wanna go to Heaven? It fucking rocks up there- Hell is dirty and smelly and gross, and-”

“Yeah people just stab you like all the fucking time,” you mutter, “but I don’t have any money.”

“Plan B then- you can sign this screen right here-” Some sort of contract appears on the screen, the letters too small to read properly, with a line at the bottom. “And the matter of payment can be discussed at a later date, at the owner’s discretion.”

“That’s a little suspicious.”

“You could go get stabbed again,” it snarks, and a pen pops out of the top. “Or you could go to that shitty hotel that doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing, with Lucifer’s brat. Choice is yours.”

You have to admit that the pristine glow of the church seems more promising than what you had seen of the Hotel, so you sign the contract and the doors swing open without the creak of heavy wood- when you touch it on your way in you realize that it, too, is actually metal, manipulated to look like wood to sell the facade of the building. “Good luck,” the tablet chirps, followed by something that sounds suspiciously like “you’re going to need it” as the door slams shut behind you.

It’s eerily quiet inside the church, likely soundproofed since you can no longer hear anything that’s going on outside. There’s no one else inside, no priest or other sinners, the stage at the front of the chapel empty except for the obviously simulated sunlight that streams through the windows at the back. Despite the cash grab at the door, the place does feel divine. It’s quiet and peaceful, and beautiful beyond belief. You wander up to the front, looking around to see if there would be some sort of pastor or something to show you what, exactly, you were supposed to do- to give you answers, to show you some kind of mercy in this hellhole.

A door slams somewhere in the building, and gradually a voice gets louder as they approach the chapel. “-told you, Val, that the church was a waste of fuckin’ time,” they’re saying, “but did you listen? Of course not- you’re shoved so far up Angel’s twinky little ass lately it’s a wonder you have time to plan your fuckin’ ‘holy orgies’ or whatever the fuck you’re calling them-”

And there’s the television you had been seeing on the billboards and ads- Vox in the flesh, priest robes dripping off his frame, one of those little hats somehow attached to his flat head. Even with his eyebrows drawn down in irritation at whoever he was on the phone with, he still has an air of confidence and cockiness about him that you can admire- and you had seen some of the magazines declaring him the hottest in Hell, and know that he has clean lines of lean muscle hiding under those holy folds of fabric. He paces back and forth across the stage a few times, throwing insults and jabs into the phone in his hand, and then he looks up and finally notices you. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, eyes widening in surprise, and then- “not you, Valentino, Satan, fucking narcissist. Someone’s fucking here- yes, in the church- fuck it, no, I gotta deal with this.” And the phone is slipped into one of the pockets of the robe. His whole demeanor changes- his posture straightens, his eyes closing and his face rearranging into something softer, more peaceful as he looks down at you. 

“Welcome, lost lamb,” he says, and you could almost believe him if it weren’t for the glitch that crackles across his screen at the words. “How may I help to guide you today?”

“Um… I’m not totally sure,” you confess, and his eye twitches in irritation. “I saw some ads and I was curious about the idea of a church in Hell. If you can actually get redeemed here then, you know, I’d love to give it a try-“ 

You don’t even get to mention your almost ulterior motive before he fucking laughs at you, the sound echoing with the acoustics of the place. “Fuck, so you’re a real one then? Y’know how many people I’ve had sitting in these pews that don’t give two rats shit about redemption, just wanted to see the fancy new fucking building and watch one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell strut around in this stupid fucking thing?” He plucks at his robes, the fabric fluttering around his body. “And now I've got a real one. Imagine that. Okay!” 

He claps his hands together and a small bench emerges from the floor in front of the stage as he drops to sit on the edge of it, legs hanging off so his feet touch the floor. “Fucking kneel, then,” he says, gesturing to the cushion, “Don’t these things usually start with confession? I don’t have all day if you have like, a million sins to confess.”

“Oh, right.” This part at least you knew, even if it usually took place in a booth and the other person couldn’t see you. You hadn’t really been planning on confessing when you got here, but at least it was an easy part.

You watch him patiently, waiting for the usual blessing, until he stares at you expectantly. “Well?”

Guess you were skipping that, then. “Um, okay. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” He waves a hand at you; a silent ‘get-on-with-it’ if you’ve ever seen one. “It’s been… ten years? Since my last confession-“

“No fucking wonder you ended up down here, doll,” he mutters, head tilted towards the ceiling and not even looking at you, “you were one of those ‘Easter and Christmas’ church-goers, huh? And you thought that would be enough.”

“Hey, fuck you,” you snap, flushing at how easy you were to pin down like that, and his head snaps back down to look at you, an eyebrow raised like he’s fucking bored. “Aren’t you supposed to be here to help?”

“Does it matter? Besides, I’m new to the job; sue me for a learning curve. Come on- what sins are you confessing?” His screen brightens suddenly, a grin directed at you that steals your breath. “Was it something fun? You kill someone?” His eyes go hooded, expression lascivious as he looks down at you. “Impure thoughts, maybe? Impure actions?” His gaze lingers on your skirt before he meets your eyes again.

Your face heats- you’re very aware, suddenly, of the position that you’re in- knelt on the floor in an empty church, the priest as far from saintly as one could get and hot as Hell even with his TV head, his knees spread apart where he sits on the edge of the stage and you essentially between them. Images race lightning quick through your head- pushing his robes up around his thighs, leaning forward with your tongue out to show him just how impure your actions could be-

A bell rings overhead and you’re reminded that you’re in a fucking Church, even if it is one in the center of Hell. You had come here for help, not sex. You shove the thoughts back. “Can you just- be a normal priest, please? With the bible verses and shit so I can feel like this wasn’t a total waste of whatever I signed before coming in here.”

He sighs but seems to acquiesce, placing his palms on the stage and leaning back. “That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one! Give me one sec…” His screen changes, words and images flying across it at lightning speed while he taps his fingers on the floor under his hands, sometimes slowing on a particular passage, and it occurs to you what he’s doing- he’s searching the fucking internet for a bible passage.

“Ha! This should do-” His face comes back, expression serene, and he leans forward and places a finger under your chin to tilt your head up, closer to him now  than you would have expected. “I know how you feel, my child, tempted by the sins of the flesh,” he says in an exaggerated tone. “‘For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses.” He winks at you with that smirk of his back in place, “but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.’”

You blush but can’t turn away with his finger on you, keeping you tilted to face him. “‘Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.’ Is that what you’re here for, doll? Mercy?”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can see the way his eyes track the movement of your throat when you swallow. “Y-yes,” you stammer, and your voice is weaker than you would like, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him. “Mercy-” 

“In your time of need,” he offers, and when you close your eyes you feel his thumb trace over your cheekbone, his hand warm against your skin. “What do you need? Cause I’ll tell you- all flushed and trembling and sweet on your knees here? I don’t think a bible verse is gonna cut it, babe.”

He almost slides off the stage, dropping to a crouch so he’s level with your face. “Sir-” you try, and his grin is wide and dangerous.

“Father,” he corrects you, and if you weren’t already on your knees you would have fallen to them. “And I believe you still have to confess before we can move on.” He reaches into the pocket of his robes and pulls out something long and dangling- a rosary, you realize, and you can’t stop the flash of heat that rips through you despite the blatant blasphemy of what was happening. “Give me your hands.” And you do, helpless to refuse as he winds the beads around your wrists with the cross dangling between your arms as he finishes. He stands then, using a hand on the beads to pull you from the cushion and guide you forward on your knees when he sits on the edge of the stage again. You’re properly between his legs now, the fabric of his robes almost touching your nose, and he’s holding your bound hands atop one of his knees. 

“This is just to keep you focused,” he says when he sees you watching where he has them restrained in one hand. His other hand pets across your head, a finger briefly touching one of the horns that you had grown upon arrival. “Now then- tell me of your temptations, little lamb, and I’ll give you absolution. I’ll give you the mercy you want.” When he meets your wide eyes again, he winks. “Maybe something else, too.”

“Fuck, I’m- God, okay. Okay. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” You take Vox’s silence as a sign to continue, his hand still gently brushing through your hair, the other keeping a tight grip on the rosary beads. “It’s been ten years since my last confession.”

“Go on, my child,” Vox says, and fuck, it feels wrong that the words of a priest- regardless of how legitimate he was- are making your core clench, a strong jolt of arousal bolting through your body. “What brings you to confession today?”

You try not to tremble as you continue. “I have… behaved immorally in the past. And even now I’m having impure thoughts,” you whisper, and you hear Vox suppress a groan in front of you. “I- I know the Bible says not to fall prey to temptation, but it’s so hard to resist. I can’t stop myself from thinking about it- about what I’ve done. And about you.”

The fingers in your hair are gone, grip tightening on the one holding the rosary. “This is troubling indeed,” he says, like you can’t hear the smirk in his voice. “Tell me what you’ve done- what you’ve thought about. What you want now. Be specific.” There’s a soft rustling of fabric before you, a whisper of air across your face as Vox moves. You make an inquisitive noise and he shushes you. “Keep your eyes closed, dear- imagine you confess to the Lord himself. Show him how earnest you are in your devotion.”

You let your face relax, brow going slack and keeping your face tipped up. You can see through your eyelids the shine of the sunlight through the windows, artificial but warming and holy nonetheless. And like this you ‘confess.’ “I’m thinking about you touching me- in s-sinful ways. Your hands on my skin the way that others have touched me. It feels good, I can’t help but want it…” You feel a little ridiculous even with the flush of your cheeks and the need overtaking your body.

“Fuck,” you hear Vox whisper, and there’s another faint sound of movement that you can’t place with your eyes closed. “How did these f-f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘t͖͖̠̬͛h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́ sinners touch you?” His voice seems to fail him at the thought, a crackle in his vocals that betrays how much he’s invested in the moment.

“Like a harlot,” you say, and you hear a full groan escape him, a tug to the rosary when he leans a bit down towards you. His face is closer now; you can feel his hot breath as it ghosts across your lips when you speak. “They touched my bare skin- sometimes I lie awake at night and trace the path their hands have taken over my body, over my breasts, between my legs. I’ve let them fuck me, bent over tables and spread across beds, and God, I want more.” You let your voice take on a pleading edge. “I want it to be you- please, won’t you help me?”

You let your eyes flutter open, and the sight before you steals your breathe- Vox’s eyes are trained on you, his mouth hanging open with his face screwed up in pleasure as he fists his cock inches from your face, his robes drawn up over his thighs to jerk himself off in time with your confession. When he notices you watching him he smiles, all teeth and dripping saliva, looking more and more like the agent of damnation that he is than the holy man he’s pretending to be. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞t͖͖̠̬͛,” he growls, his vocals once again corrupted and fried when he speaks. “‘No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. G-G̯̯̩̙͆ͣ͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability-’” The last words are accompanied with a harder thrust of his hips, bringing him closer to the edge of the stage, the head of his prick nearly brushing your lips before its covered with his fingers as he continues to stroke. “‘But with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.’”

You know what he’s going for, but… “I think in this instance, ‘enduring it’ would mean not giving in to the temptation,” you murmur, and you let your tongue ghost over his hand when it gets within reach, just able to taste the saltiness of his precum on his fingers. “But I think I’m weak to it, Father- would you forgive me if I can’t resist?”

Static flashes across his screen for a moment. “Fuck,” he pants when he sees that you’ve kept your tongue extended, waiting for him. He loses the haughty, holy edge to his voice as his fingers tighten their grip, less of a stroke now to let the head of his dick tap against your tongue a couple times. “Can’t fuckin’ think straight like this, Satan- how am I supposed to keep this shit up when you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a devout whore praying for a cock in your throat,” he snarls, and releases the hand keeping hold on the rosary to cup your face. You waste no time in bringing your bound hands up under your skirt, shoving your panties to the side with trembling fingers to rub at your clit. The angle is all wrong, but any friction is good friction at this point, and Vox laughs breathlessly at the desperate way that you rock against your hands with your head held in his. “I might not be God but I can answer that fuckin’ prayer if you want.”

The way you shift to get a better angle to slide a finger into yourself brings you closer, your head resting more heavily in his palm, and you can’t resist giving him a wink- “Promise you’ll give me my absolution after?” You let your mouth fall slack, and groan around the length of him as he pushes past your lips, both of his hands abandoning their respective tasks to tangle in the strands of your hair and keep you still.

“I’ll give it to you, doll, I’ll fuckin’ give you a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟t͖͖̠̬͛.” He guides himself in further, deeper, until the head of his dick is just bumping against the back of your throat, whorish whines escaping the scant space between your lips when he starts to buck his hips, sucking to the best of your ability while you ride your own fingers and try to work your tongue against the solid erection that’s taken up a temporary residence in your mouth. His hands fist in your hair and tug you closer, your nose bumping the sharp lines of his abdomen and the solid weight of his balls resting against your chin with every jerk forward. A particularly hard thrust has your gag reflex triggering, the channel of your throat convulsing and fluttering around the head of his cock while his head throws back with a moan.

Tears prick at your eyes- your orgasm is a distant, intangible thing, the pleasure from your fingers sweet but not even close to what you needed, whimpering and drooling around Vox’s cock in a way that echoed around the beautiful chapel. When you look up at him his eyes are wide and frantic, harsh moans falling from his mouth and rumbling through his body so you could feel it against your nose pressed into his pelvis the way you are. 

A hand slides forward to brush at your tears, a smile more befitting the devil than any kind of priest taking up Vox’s screen, red lines of what could be drool dripping off the sides. “Fuck, gonna cum- you want it, angel? Your a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎b͔͔̳͈̊̆ͥ͂͜͝s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡t͖͖̠̬͛i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥ?” You can’t speak with his cock filling your mouth so fully, so you nod the best you can and grind your hips down onto your fingers, still bound together with the rosary. He chuckles low, once again keeping your head still so he can pound into the wet heat you’ve provided to him, the muscles of your throat clenching down every time he pushes far enough back. “‘Repent and be baptized, e-every one of you-’” he starts, the silky skin of his erection sliding pleasantly over your tongue a final time, then he stills. His cock twitches, and there’s a jet of hot, bitter liquid spilling across your tongue before he pulls out completely. “‘In the name of J̸̡̡̟͑ͭ̄͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧs̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅụ̴̴̾̀͟͡s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅ Ch̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅt͖͖̠̬͛, for the forgiveness of your sins.’” There’s another pulse of cum that lands on your cheek as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to smear it on your skin and then dip into your mouth for you to suck it clean as his cock gives one final twitch, a weak spurt against your lips closed around his thumb. “‘And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit,’” he finishes in his normal voice, that cocky smirk back on his screen when he finally pulls all the way back.

You lick your lips, rid yourself of the remnants of his release that you can reach. “Is that what that was? You don’t look much like the Holy Spirit to me.”

He groans looking down at you, the hand still in your hair petting almost affectionately through the strands. “We make do with what we have in Hell,” he says. His eyes flick down to your lap, where you still have two fingers poorly sunk into your pussy and are rocking back and forth on them. “Don’t worry, doll, you’ll still-”

He freeze, some notice popping up in one of the upper corners of his screen, and he shakes his head and groans as it clears away. “Quiet- someone’s at the door,” he murmurs, and takes his hands off you entirely.

You suppress a groan at the lack of contact,  fingers momentarily stilling and cocking an eyebrow at him. “How can you tell?” There’s no knock resounding through the building, no bells or chimes, and he holds a finger to his lips.

“I get an alert when someone interacts with the AdamAI. Just hold on a sec-”

There’s an audible gasp from the sinner that enters the church, and Vox looks down at you with a wicked smile. “Keep praying, my child,” he says softly, “and we’ll resume our discussion on the matter of your ‘repentance’ soon.” He stands to his full height and with a swish of his robes he’s gone, approaching the newcomer behind you and speaking in hushed tones- you catch something about a ‘private prayer session’ and resist the urge to snort, instead shifting a bit to get your thumb against your clit and rub soft circles. You don’t think you can cum like this but it's nice, sweet little zaps of pleasure that start at your core and echo through your body like the acoustics of the church you kneel in. You bite your lip to keep the sounds from escaping you as they talk, the low timbre of Vox’s voice making your body hum and tingle remembering the way he had moaned and clutched at your hair as he chased his release with your mouth around him.

Fuck, if Sister Lucy could have seen you now she would probably have an aneurysm. But its not her words echoing in your brain right now- it’s Vox’s soft “keep praying” that has your hands unable to stay still, your hips jerking minutely while you reach futilely for the edge of your pleasure, to tumble headfirst into it.

It takes a moment for you to realize that the Church is silent once again, and when you look up- and up and up, your head tilting all the way back like you’re searching for God himself in the rafters- Vox towers over you from behind, his eyes dark and hungry. He drops to his knees, a resounding crack on the floor as he reaches for you, his hand wrapping around the front of your throat to keep your head tilted back, and a low growl rumbles from his chest when he feels you swallow against his palm. “Such a well behaved lamb, to stick to your prays so devotedly in the presence of others,” he whispers, his tongue curling over the shell of your ear, and now that you’re alone there’s no shame in the desperate moan that you let loose- the way he says ‘lamb’ is so sickeningly sweet and exaggerated that you know the word he wants to use is ‘slut.’ “What kind of shepherd would I be if I didn’t give you a reward?”

His other hand comes down to grab the rosary, pulling your fingers from the slick heat of your cunt and bring them to his mouth- his tongue curls around them, the lewd sound of him sucking the juices from your digits right next to your ear, causing heat to pool in your lower stomach. Once he’s satisfied, he hoists you up with his grip on them, spinning you so that you’re facing him and pinning you to the edge of the stage. “Thought the ‘baptism’ was my gift,” you say as he lifts your legs up around his waist, shoving your skirt out of the way and just tearing your panties off your body, exposing you to the cool air of the church. “You should keep your metaphors straight.”

“Come on, I’m fuckin’ trying,” he mutters, pressing his screen to your forehead so you’re breathing in the same air. “Didn’t Jesus say some shit like ‘choose words that bring peace, not conflict’ or something? Take that holy advice, stop poking holes in my sermon, and let me show you Heaven.” He leans in before you can respond to tangle his tongue with yours, and considering where you are and what you’re doing, kissing a television is hardly the weirdest thing to happen to you today. It’s pleasant, even, a light hum of static where your lips meet his, his tongue almost vibrating with concealed electricity as he licks into your mouth like he’s trying to taste his own cum in the back of your throat.

When he pulls back for your answer, you can’t resist the truth- “That was Buddhism,” you deadpan, and laugh when static crackles across his body, a renewed erection pushing into your thigh when he uses your bound hands to lay you flat on the stage. He fumbles with his robes to get them up and around his waist again, and the laughter dies in your throat as the silky smooth head of his cock bumps against your drenched folds.

“You know a lot about religion for someone that seems to only know how to be on her knees for one thing,” he murmurs, and it's both shame and heat that flashes through you at the words while he slides his length back and forth through your wetness, pressing lightly against your clit and retreating, teasing. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up while I’m fucking the thoughts out of that pretty head, hm? Gimme a Bible passage since you know so much, dollface.”

“I don’t have access to the internet in my brain like some people but I’ll do my be- ahhh, fuck-” Vox cuts off your sentence with a solid thrust of his hips, the tip of his prick finally slipping in, and he works it in slowly, letting you adjust to it a few inches at a time until he’s buried to the hilt in your wet cunt and breathing heavily against your neck. “Oh God-”

“Thought taking the Lord’s name in vain was a sin,” he breathes, and licks down the column of your throat. He pulls back a little, the drag of him inside of you a delicious burn before he snaps forward again, punching the air from your lungs. He maneuvers the fingers of the hand still holding the rosary to press the wooden cross into your palms. “Come on, angel, give me something good.”

It’s admittedly hard to think with the way that he pistons into you, hips angled just right to hit that sweet spot inside that you had been missing with your bound hands, his free hand digging bruises into the flesh of your hip. You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind- “‘A-All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for- fuck, for instruction, for conviction, for correction, and for training in right-righteousness,’” you manage through the pleasure that courses through you, and Vox laughs, the action causing his body to shake against you. 

“Something better,” he demands, still drilling his cock into your pussy, hard thrusts that make your vision waver and your breath catch in your throat- how he expects you to talk during that, you weren’t sure, but you would do your damndest as you search your memory for something else.

“Fuck, uhhh… ‘If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with pointing finger… and malicious talk, and if you spend yourself on behalf of the hungry-’” You lose focus on the words you can see behind your eyelids when the hand leaves your hip to press a clawed finger to your swollen clit, a firm circling that has you choking on the words before they can finish leaving your lips. A whimper escapes instead, and Vox’s grin is wide and hungry as he stares down at you.

“‘And satisfy the needs of the oppressed,’” he continues for you, “come on, little lamb, you know the rest.”

“‘Then your light will rise in the darkness, and your light become like the noonday.’” Every muscle is tense, waiting for the thread to snap as Vox continues to fuck into you like a man possessed, his tongue lathing over whatever bits of skin he can reach. You can feel the orgasm crackling like electricity down your spine, unsure if that’s a side effect of Vox’s half-machine body or just how fucking good it feels. Either way, the cusp of release has never felt like this before, like you might pass out from the strength of it, from how all consuming the pleasure is before the peak has even hit.

The pressure against your sweet spots- inside and outside- intensifies suddenly when Vox tilts his hips, pressing down harder and slamming his thick cock against that bundle of nerves inside, the wet sounds of your coupling all that you can hear over your voice and his grunts of effort. “‘The lord will guide you always; he will… s-atisfy your needs in a- in a- oh fuck, God, Vox-”

You want the face he’s making framed in the living room of wherever you end up living in Hell; he could almost be a real priest with the expression of worship that’s taking over his screen, looking down at you like you’re Heaven incarnate. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘, that’s right; cum on my cock, sweetheart, a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧl͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘, fuck-”    

It’s just as all consuming as you expected- even more so as you tip over the edge into blissful ecstasy, every part of your body clenching down, your hands on the beads, your legs around Vox’s waist, your walls around the hard length still pounding away at you. You’re not even a little embarrassed about the echoing of your cries as you cum, the sound bouncing off the walls of the church and coming back to you and Vox, who’s chasing his own release in the tight clench of your pussy. The lewd, wet sounds intensify suddenly, sharply, the evidence of your orgasm drenching the robes bunched around Vox’s thighs. A high pitched noise emits from him, and his screen goes dark when he follows you over the edge, hot pulses of heat into your slick cunt, walls fluttering and spasming and wringing every last drop of cum from him, resting thick and warm inside of you as his head drops down to your chest and the entire building seems to just power down.

You fiddle with the rosary beads in your hands, trying to see if you can get them undone on your own- and yes, there they go, a quick twist of the wrist and they’re sliding along your skin, your wrists sore where they had been digging in this whole time. His grip on the beads had slackened as well, so you pull out of his grasp and let your hands run down his body, properly touching him for the first time- and it was well worth the wait, even through the priest robes. His muscles felt firm to the touch, the skin of his arms soft where his sleeves had ridden up, and the hot air coming off his head when you traced your fingers along the ports and wires on the back of it was oddly pleasant.

“You keep touching me like that,” he mumbles against your chest, and you feel his dick twitch where it’s seated inside you still, “and you can be the one to explain to my business partners why power’s down across Pentagram City.” The building flickers back on slowly, the simulated sunshine once again streaming from the windows as Vox boots back up, a loading screen flashing on his face before it turns back into his eyes and mouth, quirked up at the sides while you run your fingers over his body and head. “Gimme like half an hour and we can go again without blacking out both rings of Pride, maybe.”

You laugh when he pulls out, collapsing in the space next to you, the stupid little hat tumbling off in the process while he adjusts his robes. “‘Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light,’” you quote. “Maybe a power outage will bring more people to the Church, you could play that up on your advertisements- then if we regularly fuck there’s a business aspect.”

His chuckle echoes in the chapel. “Where have you been all my afterlife?” He jokes, and his clawed fingers give yours a squeeze when they come down to your sides. “I know you’re probably half kidding but listen, I could use some of that religious knowledge if Val and Velvette insist on making me do this once a week- the fucking doesn’t always have to be a part of it, but-”

“Listen, if that offer comes with a place to sleep and a hot meal every once in a while I’m down.” You think back to the screen you had signed before coming into the church- “Shit, unless that tablet I signed means I don’t get a say? Guess I should have looked at it a little closer-”

“Oh, that.” He has the decency to look a little ashamed as he pulls something up on his screen, making a note before closing it again. “Sorry, just a contingency- if we didn’t have a way for financially challenged sinners to get here that would severely limit our target market so we added that contract as an option. Technically your soul is now owned three ways by the Vees as a whole until terms are settled, but we’ll renegotiate, figure something else out.”

“‘Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back,’” you quote at him- “you help me out and I’ll help you.”

“Deal.” He stands and pulls you up with him, and you place the hat back onto his head- it snaps into place with a soft click that you laugh at- “Magnets, babe, I work with what I have”- while he leads you to the back of the church to clean up and talk about where you would be going from here.

Bonus

You’re laying reclined on Vox’s living room couch a few days later, wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he pours a couple drinks for you. All things considered, going to the church that day had worked out well. You weren’t ‘dating’ Vox, but he was keeping you off the street, fed, and fucked, so you didn’t have much room to complain. Every once in a while you would go over some common Bible passages with him, try to play out a full confession so he could see how it was actually supposed to go to try and help with the church thing, but because of how you met you could hardly get out “forgive me, Father” before Vox was hard and pulling at your clothes.

He’s bitching about it now as he mixes things in glasses at the kitchen counter when his apartment door flies open and Velvette strolls in. “Vox, babe, the fuck are you doin’ at that fuckin’ church? Your ratings are absolute shite compared to the stand-ins we have and that should not be the fuckin’ case.”

He immediately jumps on the defensive. “Imagine that- maybe its because I’m not a real fucking priest? God forbid it take me a fucking minute to learn the shit.”

You pipe up from the couch, tipping your head back over the arm to look at Vox and Velvette upside down. “A good start would be not taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Traitor,” he hisses at you, and the demoness doubles over in laughter when static sparks between his antennae as he whips in your direction. “And you’re one to fucking talk- remind me how we met again?”

“You sure you wanna do that while your friend is here, Vox? I can live with the blasphemy of fucking in a church but I draw the line at full blown exhibitionism.” Velvette wipes a tear from her eyes while Vox’s screen tints pink. “And besides- we’re working on it, aren’t we, Father?”

Velvette’s irritated grumbling is ignored as Vox pushes her back out the door and approaches you on the couch, curling his claws into your hair, coaxing you to your knees for another confession.

[simphornies]

A/N: Thanks to some help from a wonderful writer ( @markster666 my new writer bestie ) this story might be longer than I think. Filled with a lot of emotions. I can't wait for you all to see what we've come up with.

Word count: 4.2k (4,240)

part 1, part 3, part 4

Deal Breaker [ Vox x Angel!Reader ] part 2

His second day was filled with the same trust exercises that Vaggie did earlier on. Vox and the other guests were thrown into another turf war once again to fight alongside each other. Alastor decided to join this time around, seeking entertainment in Vox's attempt at the exercise.

Vaggie hoisted Vox up into the air and threw him down the building. You watched over them, making sure that they don't get too injured. Alastor walks next to you, tapping his microphone as he watches Vox get punched in the stomach and saved by Angel Dust.

"Y/N, my dear, do you truly believe that this 'courtship' is real and not some frivolous stunt?" He asks, "I have grown accustomed to your friendship and it'd be a shame if he pulled strings to whisk you away from us and the hotel."

"To be quite frank with you, Alastor, I am not quite sure myself. Rest assured that I shall have my wits up." You put a hand on his shoulder, "I will not fall for meager attempts or tricks."

He hummed, "I rarely share this advice but do stay safe, darling. I will not find entertainment in failure from you. And I would hate to be disappointed in failure."

Though Alastor is...Alastor, you two have formed a bond. With you working to free him from his chains and him providing you with insight on how Hell functions, you became close friends. As sadistic as he is, he truly wished you good fortune.

You hear a scream coming from below and you quickly fly down to the source. Vox got surrounded and a demon managed to land a hit on him, stabbing him through his side. You opened up your wings fully to create distance and whisked him back up, blasting the perpetrators away with light. You gently sat him on the ground, kneeling beside him.

"Vox, where did they get you?" You ask in a hurry, trying to find the source of the bleeding. His side was covered in blood. "Take your shirt off, let me heal you."

"Take my shirt off? You want to see me naked that bad?" He weakly laughed, his screen glitching due to the pain, "And you can heal too? Hah. What can't you do, angel?"

"Now is not the time for jokes. Take your shirt off or I will rip it off of you." Your voice was stern, making him unbutton his shirt. You applied your magic to close off the wound and stop the bleeding. "My powers can only close wounds and stop bleeding. The pain will be there so take it easy."

You stood up, "I think that's enough. Let's all go home." And with a snap of your fingers, you all were transported back to the hotel through a portal.

"Vox is injured. No sudden or rash jerks to him until he's recovered. My magic's sped up the healing so he should be fine tonight. Alastor, no punching the injured please." He squinted at you in disappointment to which Vox flipped him off.

Charlie was apologizing profusely to Vox, offering him every kind of drink or snack that the hotel had. Vaggie drags her away so you can deal with him. You sat next to him at the bar, "A drink?"

"Yeah. That'd be great. Shit hurts like a bitch." He got a glass of rum from Husk and you got the same. Vox looked at you, a little bit in disbelief before smiling. "Thanks for saving my ass, angel."

"Do stop calling me that. But you're welcome." You chug your drink rather quickly, impressing Vox.

"Rum tonight huh? What made you decide to switch it up?"

"Mm. You." You smiled at him before asking Husk for the whole bottle and he gladly handed it to you. You and him clinked your bottles together before you pour it into your glass. Vox caught himself blushing at your response but he quickly wiped it off of his face.

He couldn't think of how to keep the conversation going so he drank in silence. He stared at the ice floating in his drink, messing with it with his claws.

"I have something to discuss with you Vox. In private." You say before getting up, face flushed from the stronger alcohol. "Please, meet me in my room after your drink." You take the bottle with you as you teleport into your room.

Angel elbows him on his good side, "Oooooh~ The angel's tryna fuck." He teased making Vox glitch a bit.

"Fuck! You! Don't jump out like that. Where did you come from?" He groaned before getting up, taking his glass with him. "It's probably business."

He walked up to your room, limping a bit from pain. He knocked on your door and entered as soon as you told him to. You sat at your desk, reading something in front of you.

"I want to discuss something and I sure do hope you consider this. Please, sit." You pointed at the seat across the table.

"Talking business early on? Are you going to agree to the deal?" He grinned mischievously, putting his hand under his chin to prop his head up on the table.

"No. It's about one of our patrons. Angel Dust." You slide a copy of his contract over to Vox, "This is a personal request of mine. I would like his contract, his deal with Valentino, to be terminated."

He was taken aback at your boldness. "Oh shit, okay. Well..." He leaned back, sucking air through his teeth somehow, "Yeah...I'm not sure, angel cakes. Valentino is pretty possessive over who he owns."

"I understand but I am willing to form a deal of some sort with you to get this to happen. Please, give me offers in exchange for this favor." You looked at him pleadingly. After seeing Angel Dust get hit and insulted by Valentino at the bar stirred something in you and you promised to find a way to break his deal.

Vox perks up at this opportunity. "A deal to break another deal?" He laughs, "You don't start small with your offers, do you?" He sat and pondered a bit.

"I'll accept your deal and get Valentino to break the contract on the condition that you make a deal with me."

You noticed his left eye beginning to spiral. Was he trying to hypnotize you? You laugh at the attempt, "Sorry. I'm not laughing at the offer but are you trying to hypnotize me?" His facial expression changes at the realization that he got caught. "That doesn't work on me, unfortunately for you. But what condition are you looking for?"

He retreats his attempt in shame, crossing his arms a bit. "Worth a shot." He huffed, “But I want you to work with me for the same length that you have me here. 3 days. And on top of that I want 3 dates with you. Let’s make a deal with that and I promise you that I’ll try to get Valentino to break his contract.”

You extend your hand out to him and he shakes it, sealing both of your words into a contract. He grins, knowing that he left out what exactly you have to do with him in his company. But a new feeling bubbled within him. The moment he held your hand he felt sparks in his system. He felt himself heating up with such a simple gesture and he couldn’t shake the feeling even hours after it had happened.

Hours had passed after your deal with him and at this point everybody was already fast asleep except for him. He couldn’t forget the way your hand felt in his. He paced around his room anxiously, trying to pinpoint the source of this pit he felt in his chest and stomach. He tried to distract himself with the technology provided in his room but every now and then he’d stare at the hand that held yours. Vox would replay the way you swooped in to take him away from danger and heal you. Your words echoed in his head over and over. Your smile slowly became a goal for him to maintain.

On his third and final day at the hotel, it was a party. Everyone wanted to go to the same bar Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb took the hotel staff to when Charlie was out. Alastor opted out of this because of “proximity reasons” or so he said. It was you, Vox, Husk, and Angel going this time.

You dressed yourself into an outfit that wasn’t the usual “I’m the famous angel that fought for Hell” look. Instead you wore shorts, courtesy of Angel Dust, and a crop top that Cherri gifted you a while ago. You were indecisive on which boots to wear and with Alastor off doing something you probably didn’t want to know about, you called Angel Dust.

He stood in your room as you frantically gathered all the shoes you owned and dropped them in front of the two demons. “I am not one to typically go out but I will absolutely not go out looking a mess. Please help me.” You practically begged. Angel helped you put together your outfit, fixing your hair up into a ponytail. He was proud of how you looked in the end.

The two of you walked to the lobby, chatting and laughing about how you can’t style yourself outside of your comfort zone. Vox stared at you, engulfed in your beauty. He was not used to seeing you outside of your usual attire and he was stunned. He couldn’t pry his eyes off of you and he was convinced it was purely due to your angelic powers. You wore black heels with eyes on the back, a shredded crop top that had a spray painted eye in the middle of it and simple black shorts. It was simple enough for you to be comfortable in but, in Angel’s words, slutty enough for you to blend in without getting immediately recognized as the angel that fought for Hell.

“Your ass looks nice in that, sweet cheeks.” Angel jokes. “I bet you’re gonna get eyes all over you at the club.”

“You flatter too much. It’s just a simple outfit, unworthy of such attention.”

But Vox agreed with him. His eyes wandered all over you. Your waist, your legs, your curves. He devoured the sight of you. It wasn’t until you made eye contact with him that he snapped out of it.

“Apologies! I was unable to settle on what to wear and if Angel hadn’t come to my rescue, I think I would have had to sit this one out.” You hugged Angel, proud of his work.

“What can I say? Sex isn’t all I’m good at.” He laughs.

You created a portal that led to the entrance of the club and the four of you immediately ordered drinks. Angel suggested drinking games and by the end of it, you were wasted. A sight that even Husk had only seen once. Your head was spinning, your vision fuzzy. Husk took another shot away from you, making you pout.

“One more shot!” Your words were slurred, “Please.”

“Absolutely not, you’re going to throw up and I am not cleaning it.” He shook his head and took your shot for you. “Shot’s gone.”

You whined and leaned into Vox’s arm, who was still sober. “Vox~ Can youuuu get me a shot?” You whispered.

Your voice sent shivers down his spine in a way he never expected. He almost caved but decided against it. “No. I think you’re done for tonight.”

You huffed and got off of him to his disappointment. You made your way onto the dance floor and uncharacteristically went all out. You followed what the crowd did and soon enough, they all lost track of you which sent them into a panic.

“Shit, where’s Y/N?” Angel asks.

“I saw her go towards all the dancing but I think she’s deep in the crowd.” Husk stated before running in there to search for you alongside Vox and Angel. Vox felt panic but he didn’t understand why. He didn’t know why he felt it urgent to get you in front of him and secure your safety. He was here to steal you from the hotel but yet he’s working with the staff to look for you. He pushed and shoved until he finally saw you. You were surrounded by three drunk demons with lust-filled eyes that danced on you a bit too sexually for his liking. The moment he saw one of them rub their hand from your hips to your waist, a fiery rage blazed within him. He quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you away from them and out of the crowd. He regrouped with Angel Dust and Husk who called Lucifer to portal them back to the hotel.

You were slumped against a flustered Vox, hugging onto his arm mumbling nonsense even after you all arrived back safely. He sat you down on the couch to which you immediately laid down.

“Wow. I haven’t seen an angel this wasted before.” Lucifer spoke, leaning over you. “Y/N, are you alright?” You giggled in response, not answering with words. “Yeah, I think she needs to go to bed. With lots of water!”

Everyone eyed your savior Vox and he groaned, “Why me?”

Alastor phased from the corner of the bar and next to him, “Because you were the one that wanted to court her. If you truly desire a relationship with someone in our staff, you should be able to take care of them as well as we do.”

Vox rolled his eyes at him, “Yeah well it wasn’t my idea to do a drinking game and get her fucked up knowing she’d lose.” He eyed Angel Dust who threw his hands up in the air, “Hey! I didn’t know her tolerance was shit. She took fifteen shots! Husk and I can handle more than that.”

“They have a point Vox. Please, take care of her for the night while the rest of us. You’re free to skip out on tonight’s activity.” Charlie says, “She likes getting tucked in.”

Vox carried you up to your room. You messed with the edges of his screen, tracing it with your finger. “So smooth.” You said. “Do you clean your screen? Can you stick your tongue out? If you can stick your tongue out, can I stick my hand in there?”

Vox was bombarded with questions but his focus was on your finger as it continuously went up and down the side of his head. He was blushing and flashed a couple of error screens until he finally got you into your room. You stumbled in and grabbed your usual dress. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked to which he received no response from you.

You began to take your clothes off sloppily, tripping over your own feet. Vox panicked and turned around. “Y/N! I’m still here, what in the unholy hell are you doing?” Though he was turned around, he shut his eyes for safety measures. He wasn’t one to get flustered at the sight of nakedness especially with Valentino on his team. He was confused why he felt and heard his heart pounding out of his chest.

“Yeah? If you’re here, why don’t you help me?” You whined. “Help me get into my gown.”

Vox turned and saw you on the floor, shorts stuck to your ankles and your top half off. He immediately began to scream and glitch. “Y/N!” was all he could say before he ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He yelled down the stairs from the railing, “For fu-ucks sake someone please dress her!” Everyone snapped their heads at Vox who was a glitching mess, “She is half-naked on the floor stuck in her shorts. I ca-cannot do this.”

Vaggie and Charlie ran up to get you into your night own as everyone else laughed at his flustered self.

“Holy shit! The big bad overlord got shy over that!” Angel was on the floor, clutching his stomach, absolutely dying. “What’s wrong? Never seen a naked angel before?”

He covered his face with his hands in shame. “I swear I brought her in there and the moment she was on the floor she started stripping. I turned around and when I looked back she was like that!” He groaned.

“Yeah, forgot to warn ya but…” Husk drank his bottle before continuing, “Last time she got fucked up like that she started changing in the lobby.”

“What’s wrong, old pal?’ Alastor teased, “Afraid of a little skin?” He laughed, mocking his rival.

“You know what. Fuck you. I’m going to my room to reboot myself. I cannot wait to get the fuck away from you.”

Alastor grinned at his frustrated and flustered self, his shadow doing the same.

.

You woke up surprisingly with a terrible hangover. You found yourself tucked into bed and in your nightgown. You had no recollection of the night before and the last thing you remembered was taking your 10th shot. After that, everything was gone. You stretched before you started to pack a couple of bags for your stay with Vox.

Charlie came into your room to check in on you, “You’re awake? How are you feeling? And…what are you doing?”

“I made a deal with Vox.” Charlie’s face dropped at the news, worried for you and your safety. “It’s a chance to get Angel Dust free and on the path to redemption. I…I can’t bear to see him come home after a rough night and I can sense his sadness.”

Charlie hugs you, “Be safe, okay? I know you’re strong but please…don’t get hurt.” You smile in return, placing a hand on her rosy cheeks.

“Thank you. I promise. I’ll be safe.”

Vox was waiting at the lobby entrance for you. Alastor was more than glad to get him out and was practically trying to throw him out the door with Angel and Husk watching in delight, munching on some popcorn.

“I’m waiting for Y/N! She’s coming with me!” He protested, dodging his black tendrils.

“She is not going with you.” Alastor hissed, static in his voice, “She would inform me if she would and she has not.”

You heard the commotion from the stairwell and flew down the stairs, using your body to keep distance between the two rivals. “Alastor! I apologize but I am. I have made a deal with Vox.” Vox straightened himself out, a smug smirk on his face. “I…want to get Angel Dust’s deal broken off. He and I have discussed and agreed that I shall stay and work with him for 3 days.”

Alastor squinted at you, reverting back to his regular form. “A deal with him? My…That is the most foolish of decisions you have ever made.” He scoffed, ears pinned to the back of his head. You step closer to him, holding his hand in comfort.

“Alastor, I apologize for not informing you sooner. I shall remain safe. My duty and loyalties remain with the hotel. I have told you before and I shall tell you again, I must work on breaking the deals that harm the staff the most. You, of all people, should understand that.” His eye twitched a bit at the reminder of his own chains but he did understand. He sighs and nods.

“If anything brings harm to you, inform me immediately.” That was Alastor’s way of telling you to stay safe. You smile and give him a hug, whispering a ‘thank you’ to him. He hugs you back before letting you go off with Vox into a portal you had created.

Upon arriving in his lobby, he was immediately greeted by Velvette and Valentino arguing about how Valentino had, yet again, destroyed one of Velvette’s models. Vox groans and looks at you, his face saying ‘See what I have to deal with?’ before approaching them.

“What the fuck’s happened now?” He says, “And please do not rip each other apart in the lobby.”

“This little piss baby ripped apart not one but two models. I have a show tomorrow and I would have been able to work with but he went ahead and ripped apart two unlucky bitches!” Velvette growled.

“That little bitch Angel Dust texted me to fuck off last night! Me!” Valentino screamed, “I will murder that little whore.”

“Enough.” His voice distorted, left eye spiraling before clearing his throat, “That is no way to act in front of our new temporary guest, Y/N.” He held his hands out and pointed at you. “She’s going to be here for three days and I do believe she’d be a good candidate as a model for you, Velvette. Is she not?”

Velvette squinted at you, eyeing you up and down, “Oh I don’t think I’d be a good-”

“Shush. Shut the fuck up for a bit.” Velvette raised a finger at you before swiping with her other hand, quickly switching your outfit. You were now suddenly in a red dress that showed your curves. She hummed and walked around you. “I suppose she could work. Do you know how to work a catwalk, angel?”

“I-” You cleared your throat, “I certainly know how to walk.”

“Not the fucking question. Pop your little wings out and walk in a straight line.” She ordered. You complied, revealing a set of wings before walking forward, “Alright…now turn. On your heel. Quickly.” You pivoted on your heel and walked back towards Velvette.

“You know what…This could work.” Velvette lit up a bit, “Pleasure to finally meet you. I’m the famous Velvette. One of the better Vees.” She shook your hand quickly before going on her phone.

Valentino slid over to your side, leaning down to your height, “Ah…the famous angel that fell from Heaven to fight for Hell.” He gave you a big smile. You had a vendetta against him because of what you know. He takes you hand and spins you before pulling you close, “I’m Valentino. If you ever decide to drop that tacky hotel and make real money. Let me know~ I can make you a star.”

Vox pulled you away from him, noticing your discomfort. You laugh nervously and fiddled with the dress you were now suddenly stuck in. “Thank you kindly for the offer but I am alright. I have no intentions of partaking in…your art.”

Valentino’s smile didn’t falter, “You know how to find me~” He states before walking away. You see him angrily typing away at his phone to probably harass Angel. You let out a sigh, putting away your wings before looking at Vox.

“I know. A handful, right?” He rolled his eyes, “You’ll get used to it.”

He leads you to your room, “This is where you’ll be staying. Don’t worry, I won’t spy on you.” He winked, “Unless you want me to.” You rolled your eyes in response. “Let me know as soon as you’re settled in. I want to go over what we’ll be doing for the next 3 days.”

“Alright. Thank you for your hospitality.” You nod. You were about to turn around to unpack when you felt his hand grab yours. He gave you a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before teleporting off into the nearest camera.

.

Vox sat in his office with the Vees while you were in your room.

“So what’s the plan here, Vox? Why is the angel in our building?” Velvette asked, a bit on the edge of the fact that someone as strong as you was in close proximity, something she didn’t allow you to see earlier.

“She wants me to break Angel Dust’s contract with Valentino.” He responds. Valentino slammed his fist on the table in anger. “She made a deal that in return for me trying, she’ll be here for 3 days working with us.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Valentino growled. “You can’t make me break that deal. That little whore makes me the most money!”

Vox simply grins menacingly, “I can make this all worth it, Valentino.” A plan brewed in his head. He just had to get you to put your guard down around him.

“And what if this shit doesn’t work and I lose that motherfucker because of your deal?”

“It’ll work. And I’ll find somebody better for you. You have so many whores, Val. Angel Dust is just one whore. He’s already going against you, don’t you want somebody that’s a little weaker? Somebody easier to control? By the end of this, we can have all of Hell to recruit.”

“Who would be better than Angel Dust?”

Velvette rolled her eyes, “Why don’t you try and get that popstar in? Verosika Mayday’s her name.”

Valentino calmed down a bit, “Hmm…If I can get Verosika on board, then I might just consider it.”

“Then we have a deal. I get you Verosika and in return, you break Angel Dust from his contract completely.”

Valentino grins, “Deal.”

“Are you really into this angelic bitch?” Velvette asks, aimlessly scrolling through her phone.

Vox laughs, “Absolutely not! I need her power and after those 3 days, I think I have just the plan to get her on my side.”

[firephoenix23]

Like I literally have second hand embarrassment for Vox after seeing what Alastor ACTUALLY is like in a rivalry.

Like homie wishes he could be that close to Alastor 😂😂

[notherpuppet]

I just love the idea of Lucifer having to deal with this fucking guy every time he wants to see Charlie

[ohbother2]

Vox wishes he had what Alastor and Lucifer have

[angelofdumpsterfires]

how i feel about all the changes in s3

[veryberrybad]

i NEED the sexy poll to be real in universe, it’ll never not be funny to me

[sassy-cass-16]

where's that one post somebody made a million years ago about how vax and vex in syngorn would have been surrounded by elves accustomed to 20-hour days. but as half-elves they can't trance and would have had to get 8 hours of sleep, thus limiting their productivity compared to their peers. and making them look worse or lesser by comparison to their dad who already hated them. cause that post fucked me up a little. i'm still haunted by that.

[shorthaltsjester]

the reason critical role is so good is because every campaign features at least one cast member creating a character that they intend to be doomed by the narrative and matt and the rest of the cast going don’t be an idiot, Our Love Will Undoom Them. like in the explanation of percy’s final playlist, taliesin wrote, “Cheers to a happy ending for a character intended by his creator to be karmically irredeemable. May we all be so fortunate.” and just, Yeah.

[onesidedradiostatic]

The most unrealistic thing about fanon Vox owning an Alastor body pillow isn't the fact he has it at all... it's that he managed to get a clear enough picture in full color to put on the pillow

LMAOOOOOOOO LITERALLY BUT. BUT. consider. he commissioned a really good artist to make really realistic art of alastor so it's technically not an actual picture of alastor.

slightly related but I have this joke written in my head where vox and val get into an argument and in an attempt to placate him, val says he'll commission someone to make a very sexy painting of alastor for him. meanwhile, back in the hotel, lucifer gets a ping on his phone and says "someone just asked me to make a sexy painting of alastor for $50k" and alastor is standing there just.

a what.

[macabr3-barbi3]

New Love, New Skin (Chapter 7)

one more GoldenVision update before 2025! huge thanks as always to my beloved @fraugwinska for her never ending support and love for these two as I continue to put them through the wringer (and also for the lovely banner she made for me <3)

you can see the playlist I made for this fic and series here!

Vincent has a perfect plan, but every choice has a consequence.

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5 📺 Chapter 6 💛Chapter 7

March 1961

Vincent knows as soon as he sees it that it’s the one.

He had stopped into the jewelry store on a whim, having to take a different route home than usual because some idiot had wrecked their car down the street he usually took. He hadn’t thought something like a jewelry store could survive in Hell without being robbed on a near daily basis, but the series of guns that he heard cocking as soon as the bell above the door signaled his entrance explained that well enough for him. He had looked over the cases for only a few minutes before he spotted it.

He doesn’t even look at the price when he waves the attendant down, hardly even turning his head to acknowledge the woman in favor of watching the ring, glistening in the display case, and making sure it wasn’t going anywhere. Kora would love it- a delicate golden band adorned with a tiny cluster of soft green stones to either side of a modest diamond. It wasn’t overly loud or large, only having caught Vincent’s eye because it was so much more discreet than some of the others in the shop.

Kora didn’t wear a lot of jewelry, opting instead to express herself with her fun t-shirts and her words. But a ring like this- something subtle without seeming cheap, its purpose and meaning obvious without being tacky or drawing attention- he thought she would appreciate enough to wear it regularly, make sure that people knew that she was his as much as he was hers. He wasn’t totally sure how something like engagement worked in Hell, but this, at least, would serve as his promise to her. Something to show her that he was committed to her, that he wasn’t going anywhere. That he loved her back. 

Vincent still hadn’t said it. But he felt it in the kick of his heart every time he looked at her; cuddled up during one of their rare times together these days, watching television on the couch; fast asleep when he came home late from work and she hadn’t been able to wait up for him, his pillow clutched to her chest like a lifeline; when she whispered it to him as she got ready for the day, said with the press of her lips to his screen while he was groggy and half awake. It consumed him, the need for her to know what she meant to him despite how busy he had been lately, that it was all for her.

The chances of it being stolen from her while working at the diner in the short time between giving it to her and when she would no longer have to work seemed slim, because the latter was closer than ever before.

The attendant returns with the ring, nestled delicately on a velvet pad for him to pick up and inspect, and the path before him is suddenly laid out so clearly in his mind it felt as solid as the ring between his fingers.

He could almost taste that top spot. Vincent felt the eyes of the executives on him whenever he filled in for someone, when he showed up on his days off, coming in before everyone else and not going home until he was the last one left from the overnight crew. He filled in for the morning team sometimes as well, anyone that wasn’t as reliable or dedicated as he was; he had done weather, cooking segments, sports coverage, anything and everything they would let him do. The praise that flowed for him was near constant, Rich always there to offer him a spot of advice or sing of his merit to the higher ups. Joy was a thorn in his side- she had never gotten over his siding with Kora after an incident at the Christmas party a couple of years back- but it was easy to tune her out when he thought about how he would soon be calling the shots for the late news.

Calling the shots for all of the news, by the time he had finished climbing the ladder the way he wanted.

And once he was on top, it would all be worth it. He wouldn’t have to work so hard to prove himself worthy of respect and could take regular time off, spoil her the way she deserved. They would finally have what he had been working so hard to provide for them; no more late mornings hunched over scripts, when Kora was off to work by the time he got home, or missing the Sunday grocery shopping like he had been. No more worries on her end about rent or being able to afford her little pleasures. A regular schedule where they could fall asleep together again, curled in one another’s arms, wake to the warmth of each other’s bodies before spending the days doing whatever they wanted, instead of what was needed to get by.

“Sir?” The attendant’s voice pulls him from the thoughts of their future and back to the present, and he feels a spark of static between the antennae on his head. “Will you be purchasing today?”

“Yes,” he says with no hesitation, pulling his wallet from his pocket. The price is nothing to him, not when everything he had ever wanted was so close, his efforts finally on the cusp of paying off.

When the transaction is over, the velvet box sits comfortably in his jacket pocket as he makes his way home. The sky is bright and red, and a glance at his watch tells him that Kora will already be out and about for her deliveries this morning. All the better, as it will give him a chance to hide the ring before she got home; he wanted everything to be perfect when he gave it to her, his promotion to be as good as guaranteed and their future well secured. He would take a day off, treat her like a princess, spend some good quality time together before he sprang it on her and watched her face light up with happiness when he finally told her he loved her, that everything would be better soon.

He keeps the box clutched tightly in his hand the whole way home, something dangerously like hope beating a rapid rhythm in his chest.

It comes even quicker than he expects- and at the worst time possible.

He told Kora to take off the next Friday after he bought the ring, that he had something important to discuss with her and he wanted to spend some quality time together, and his Golden Girl had come alive, peppering his face with kisses and sweet talk before she went to work to talk to Viv, confirming her day off with him with a sticky note to the fridge. He confirmed with Rich that he would be taking the day as well, resulting in a clap on his back and a wink when he mentioned Kora.

The box burned a hole in his pocket the whole time; his ‘hiding place’ that he settled on was his work blazer, hung by the door with Kora none the wiser of its presence. He rubbed his thumb across the soft velvet so many times he worried there would be a groove in it, but every time he checked it was just as pristine and perfect as when he bought it. The gems in the ring still caught the light in the most perfect way, and once when Kora was sleeping he had oh-so-carefully slid it onto her finger to ensure a perfect fit. The sight of it made his chest ache, and he had pressed a kiss with trembling lips to her forehead after slipping it back into its box.

His plan was perfect- not Dante’s for this special occasion, like they had spent the two-year anniversary of her rescue of him, but the skating rink. That was where she had introduced him to her friends, showed everyone that he was hers, cemented her feelings for him before even saying she loved him, and Kora had been so in her element the last time they had gone; he regretted not being able to take her more frequently. But fuck, once he got everything he was working towards, he could buy her a skating rink- build one in their house if they wanted. She would never want for anything if he could provide it for her.

This afternoon, she was in the bathroom applying some kind of makeup, her hair pulled into a soft bun that let some curls loose around her face. She wore the twirly skirt that he loved from last time, one that he knew would flair when she spun and show off her strong legs. He already couldn’t wait until they got home- he would peel it off her slowly, take his time in a way they hadn’t been able to for a while, watch the lights reflect off the stones of the ring-

The phone rings, pulling his concentration from his thoughts of when they returned. He answers with a smile still present in his tone, but when he hears Rich’s voice on the other line his stomach drops.

“Vinny, my boy! Look, I’m sorry to reach out like this- I know you had a day planned with Kora- but you gotta get down to the station.”

Anxiety flashes through his system. “I’m- I really can’t today, Rich,” he tries, voice lowered so Kora won’t hear him. “This is really important, I’ve had it requested for almost two weeks.”

Rich sighs in his ear. “I know, I know, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it. Listen-” He lowers his voice, and Vincent can hear the rustle of his clothing as he looks around. “You didn’t hear this from me, but the execs have had their eyes on you and have just been waiting for a chance to put you in the spotlight. The real spotlight, not just filling in.”

“I-”

“This is that chance, Vin. They’re wanting to move me to the early morning crew- fucking Brandon got himself caught during the extermination in January and no one else can work with that Shelby bitch for more than a few weeks at a time- and they’ve been looking for someone to fill my spot on the late show, for good. They want to run a test of the new proposed line up today- apparently no one looks at the schedule to see when people are off. They were expecting you early like you always are so they can adapt the lighting to account for your screen brightness. They want to see that you can handle it.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Kora was going to kill him.

But he couldn’t turn this down- not when this was what he had been working for after. Not when this was the final stepping stone to being where he needed to be so he could do right by Kora. He had been wanting to give her the ring early,  a sign of what was to come for them, but now it could be a symbol of what already was- the future already in motion. She would be upset with him today, but she would understand when it was all said and done.

Rich’s voice is muffled on the other end of the line when Vincent takes the phone from his ear and lays it on his shoulder, resting his screen against the fridge. Over the humming of it he can hear Kora humming to herself in the bathroom with the door open, probably putting the finishing touches on looking perfect for him.

“-still there?” He hears when he brings the phone back to his head. “I’ll make sure I’m available to cover another night for you- work a double if I need to but I don’t want you to miss this opportunity-”

“I’ll be there,” he says, and of course it’s at this moment that Kora exits, and even not fully turned towards her he can see the shadow of her tail droop. “Give me- I don’t know, ten minutes and I’ll head out.”

“Attaboy!” Rich exclaims in his ear, “and tell your Golden Girl I’m sorry to steal you away. But this is gonna be huge for you, Vinny, HUGE!” He shouts the last word and hangs up with a click, leaving Vincent to face the choice he had made.

Her face is sad, arms crossed defensively across her chest. “Are you leaving?” She asks quietly, and it kills him to break her heart like this.

“I have to,” he says, and her eyebrows crease with some unreadable expression. “It’s… it’s what I’ve been working so hard for. They want me to take over for Rich-”

“They can’t postpone that for one more night?”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.” He crosses the living room to stand beside her, hand reaching out to caress her cheek; she leans into it, huffing a soft sigh into his palm. “It’s a huge opportunity though, and if I can’t be there, who knows who they would offer it to next?” 

Vincent can see it in her expression- the want to dispute what he was saying, convince him to stick to their original plan. And he wants to- he really, really does- but this was what his whole plan for the future was riding on.

“I might not be able to get another night off anytime soon,” she tells him. “Besides Sunday- and what’s the point then if you don’t take it off, too?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I know, Goldie, and I’m sorry,” he says again. “I wouldn’t cancel for just anything- it’s really important.” He steps back and she grabs hold of his hand, grip firm when he tries to tug away.

“Vin, come on- I never see you anymore, you can’t just keep the one day off you requested specifically to spend time with me?” Her eyes well with tears, and he diverts his gaze so he doesn’t see them- he’s always been weak to it, to her, but the ring that sat like a rock in his pocket was for nothing if he didn’t land this position. “You said this was important- that was why we took the day off.”

He sighs, squeezing her hand and releasing- this time, she doesn’t try to hold on. “I’ll ask another day off soon, I promise.”

She pulls back a step, expression hurt. “You haven’t had more than a day off at a time in ages, Vincent. I miss you-”

“When I get this promotion we’ll see each other more,” he says, a hint of irritation spiking at her continued wheedling. Didn’t she realize he was doing this for her? The long hours, the pushing for more at work, saving money; it was all so she could get what she deserved, so he could give her the life he wanted her to have. “I really have to go.” He starts towards the door, groaning in irritation when she blocks his path. “Kora, come on- move.”

“No.” She stands her ground, arms crossed across her chest in a way that shouldn’t have been cute, but even in her anger she was beautiful. “What is going on with you? You’re never home anymore, when you are home you just sleep, you don’t go out to do the grocery shopping with me anymore or spend any time with me beyond a quick fuck when you can spare a couple minutes before leaving again.”

A pang of guilt flickers in his chest, but it was drowned out by his own frustration. How could she not see? He wasn’t doing this for some selfish reason—he was trying to build a life, a future where she didn’t have to worry about a damn thing. He fingered the small velvet box in his pocket, the one he’d planned to give her today, that had been on the peripheral of his mind since he bought it. But then the call came- this could be the end of it, the confirmation about his position, his security for their future. The ring, that promise, it had to wait for that. “Move,” he demands again, and when she doesn’t immediately comply his hand shoots out to grab her bicep, forcibly moving her to the side.

The sound she makes is likely more from shock than pain, but tears well in her eyes regardless. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been making it seem like none of this matters, like I don’t matter. Why are you acting like this?”

The tension inside of him unravels quick as a whip. “I’m not acting,” he snaps, and she takes a step back in shock at the harsh coolness of his tone. “This is what I am, Kora, you didn’t change me when you picked me up off the street- you just delayed the inevitable. Fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

The silence that follows is suffocating; when he looks over, Kora’s eyes are glassy and wet, her lip quivering. His heart pounds as the regret creeps in, winding like vines around his heart- but his pride keeps him from taking it back, taking her into his arms with an apology and an explanation. He wanted to tell her about the ring, the life he’d been trying to secure for them; why he had been pushing so hard, why he was choosing to leave her today. His vocals stutter when he speaks. “I-”

Love you. He almost says it, the words on the tip of his tongue like his stupid brain thinks that will rectify the situation, the ring box in his pocket weighted like its made of something heavier than a bit of gold and diamond and velvet. If he says it now, it would be tainted by the moment, by the fight they found themselves in. She had waited for too long for it to be some cheap thing he said to keep her from being upset with him. “I’ll be home late,” he mutters instead. “We can talk when I come home, okay?” 

He would fix everything tomorrow, he tells himself as he tries to catch a cab for a faster trip, refusing to look back to the door of the apartment. Rich would make sure he got a day off, especially if he told him what today had been for- then he could show Kora the ring and explain. Once he got the promotion everything would get resolved, and she would see that everything had had a purpose, it was all for something. For her.

“... and that’s all we have for you tonight, folks- keep those doors locked and those windows closed, you never know who might come creeping through.” Vincent flashes a wide grin at the cameras, the lights of the studio dialed down to adapt to the brightness of his head. Rich had come back in to see the rest of his test run, shooting him a smile and a thumbs up from the sidelines. He could feel Joy’s eyes on him as well, but he had been ignoring her as best he could- banter was expected between co-anchors though, so he engaged her when he needed to. 

To the left of him, he sees the image he casts on televisions all over the rings of Pride, and he looks good. His blazer is pressed and wrinkle-free, screen buffed to a shine that forced the crew to adjust some spotlights to avoid blinding anyone, and his sharp-toothed smile is flawless and fierce. The timer was ticking down to the end of the broadcast, and Vincent leans forward onto his elbow on the desk. “This is Vincent-”

“-and Joy-”

“-signing off from Nine Rings News.” They speak the last line in unison, and Vincent can see on the televisions set up that the channel has cut to commercial, the first of many that will play for the next few hours until it’s time for Rich’s new slot. The room erupts into cheers, Joy leaning back in her chair to eye him appreciatively. The production crew surrounds him, taking his notes off his hands, disconnecting his equipment as they offer his praise and words of encouragement. 

Rich approaches with a slap to the back that knocks the wind out of him. “I fucking knew you would be a hit,” he says over the chorus of final congratulations, grabbing his arm and shaking it vigorously. “Let’s head out to celebrate! I have a couple hours still before I have to be back for my segment- that’s plenty of time for a couple rounds at Spite! You can ring Kora, see if she wants to come out with us if she’s not working to make up for missing your plans today.”

At the mention of Kora, Vincent’s excitement gets a little muddled,  feeling the way a glitch crackles across his screen as he remembers their fight, the way she had cried when he snapped at her and made her move. She would be asleep by now, even if she had decided to pick up a shift once their plans were canceled- he wouldn’t wake her for this, not with the way that he had left. He throws an arm around Rich’s shoulder and steers him away from the crowd. “I appreciate it, Rich, but really- I gotta get home and talk to her. We had a pretty bad fight when I left, she was really looking forward to spending the day together.” He fingers the box in his pocket again, the velvet smooth and soft under his thumb. “I was too,” he adds, and he pulls the ring out to show to his mentor.

If Rich’s eye had been capable of widening, it would have done so- his shock is evident in the way his jaw drops though, taking the box with careful fingers and opening it to inspect. “Satan’s left ball, Vinnie, you could have mentioned you were planning to ask the girl to marry you today! Fuck, I would have found a way to put the execs off if I had known you had plans this important.”

Vincent shrugs, can almost feel the pink tint take over his screen. “This was important too,” he tells him, “this was what I’ve been working so hard for. And now that I’ve done the test run, they’ve seen what I can do, it feels as good as mine, right?”

“Now that they know you’re committed and you look and sound fucking fantastic in that main anchor spot, you should get an official offer in the next couple of days,” Rich assures him, closing the velvet box with a snap and handing it back to Vincent. “You don’t see a lot of ‘marriages’ in Hell, you know. It’s exciting though, and I’m happy for you.”

“Never thought about asking that old PA to settle down, huh?”

Rich cocks his head to the side. “Do you know what the process of ‘getting married’ looks like down here, Vin? It’s a little different from topside- you actually give a piece of your soul to your partner. It’s basically a deal set between the two of you with whatever stipulations you have for the partnership, which is like the Hell equivalent of a prenup. It’s a pretty serious commitment- if have any sort of Overlord aspirations, that’s really something you should take into consideration-”

“I don’t,” he interrupts. “My job and Kora are what’s most important to me, I don’t need all that power and hassle that comes with being an Overlord.” He pockets the ring again, keeping his hands there to hide the tremor in them. “I have to get through her being mad at me now before any talk of the future happens though.”

“Put the whole thing on me,” Rich advises as he leads him to the door, “just tell her it was all my fault, and she can come down here and give me a scolding whenever she would like.” He guides Vincent to the door and gives him another parting slap on the back. “Apologize to your Golden Girl for me, will ya? And good luck!”

“Thanks, Rich,” he says, and the back door closes with a crack that echoes in the alley. The smile he’s been wearing for almost ten hours finally fades, and if he had had a jaw it would have ached. He pulls the ring box out again and opens it, looking at the reflections off the gems in the streetlight before he puts it away again.

He lights a cigarette as he walks home, the streets of Hell mostly empty but for shadows that lurk in the alleys and the hum of huge neon signs plastered all over the city. The adrenaline of the night still buzzed in his veins along with the nicotine, a spring to his step that even Kora’s inevitable anger with him couldn’t dull. He still felt guilty, but it was tempered with a sense of justification in his actions. The pieces would all fall into place now that he had proven himself with the network, their future as good as guaranteed. Kora would understand when he explained.

It was nearing four in the morning when Vincent made it home, but the lights were still on in the living room- either she had woken up early for her walk, or she had never gone to sleep. He runs a hand over his screen and takes a deep breath as he approaches the door, surprised to find it unlocked but still opening it slowly so he doesn’t startle her. “Kora?”

The living room is empty as he enters, the smell of burnt popcorn coming into his processors- she never followed the instructions correctly, which was why the rare times they had to snack together he was in charge of it. Her stack of books that she cycled through on the coffee table had been toppled, the bowl of burned popcorn having followed suit, her blanket thrown haphazardly onto the cushions in a way that made it slide towards the floor. He picks it up and catches the familiar almond and honey scent of her before he tosses it back onto the couch properly and comes further into the apartment.

“Goldie?” He keeps his voice low as he peeks into the bathroom and moves to the bedroom, in case he was wrong and she was sleeping and had simply forgotten to turn the lights off. But the bedroom is empty as well, the sheets still rumpled the same way they had been when the pair of them had gotten ready this morning. Her nightstand drawer is open, the framed photo of her and Gideon resting on the floor with a spider web fracture in the glass panel that distorted their faces. The window sat open, a breeze drifting through the open pane. “Kora,” he calls again a little louder, because she has to be somewhere in the building- she wouldn’t take off for no reason, even with the fight that they had had.

He winces at the memory of their again, words that he had said in anger that he didn’t mean. He had just been so frustrated that she didn’t understand what he was working towards that he had snapped at her-

“Fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

Panic settles into his chest behind the thumping of his heart, but he forces himself to remain calm. She wouldn’t have just left like that- not without a conversation, even as angry and hurt as she had been, even with the words he had spit at her. If she was going to leave she would have waited for him to come home so they could talk about it first.

And regardless of that- she wouldn’t leave. She loved him- more than she should. Certainly more than he deserved. 

Her clothes were all still hung on the rack in their room, her socks and underwear and shirts still folded in the drawers of their dresser. When he navigates back out to the living area, her punny coffee mugs are still happily displayed on the rack he had gotten her for Christmas. Kora wouldn’t leave those behind, not with the effort she put into finding them and incorporating them into her home. She had to just be on her walk; maybe she had woken up early and left before Vincent came home, and she would return soon. That’s what he convinces himself of as he cleans up, tidying her stack of books on the coffee table, closing the window and putting her photo of Gideon in the drawer of her nightstand. He resolves to wait for her to come back so they can talk, but as he settles onto the couch and pulls the blanket over his lap, sleep claims him too quickly to resist.

He awakens hours later from dreamless sleep, disoriented, finding himself still on the couch. Kora usually woke him when he fell asleep there instead of the bedroom- and then he remembers that Kora hadn’t been home when he returned from work yesterday, and from the looks of it had still not come back. A glance at the clock reveals that it’s well past noon, and when Vincent stumbles up from the couch to check the bedroom, the bathroom, Kora isn’t there.

“Fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

Despair claws its way into his throat, his lungs feeling constricted while he tries to breathe through the anxiety that makes itself known. He’s still trying to be logical as he grabs the phone and dials Viv’s to see if she had maybe gone into work early, went to stay with a coworker, anything.

Eris answers, to Vincent’s disappointment. “You’ve reached Viv’s Diner, what can I do for you?”

He does his best to keep his voice level. “Eris, hey- have you heard from Kora today?”

He can hear the rustle of her clothing as she shrugs. “What do I look like, her keeper? She’s not scheduled to come in ‘til later, we haven’t seen her yet.”

His voice shudders against his will when he asks, “you wouldn’t happen to know of anywhere she might go if she was upset, would you?” The Rings of Pride were huge- he had no chance of locating her without any direction, without any help. He just needed her to come home so he could explain everything, sort out the miscommunication.

“What’s the matter, Vinnie? Did Kora finally have enough and leave ya?” He can hear the smirk in her voice, the amusement that tints her tone. “I warned ya about steppin’ up for her, didn’ I?” He doesn’t stay on the line long enough to hear more than a few seconds of her cruel laughter before he slams the phone back onto the receiver, and then slams it again for good measure when he still hears her in his head. 

He still has hours to go before he has to go back to work, but Vincent can’t bring himself to sleep properly without knowing where Kora was. He tried the package hub for her courier job; he tried Viv’s again and asked to speak to Viv herself, who also hadn’t heard from Kora; the skating rink was a bust; he even called down to the station to see if maybe she had shown up while he was still working, but to no avail. No one had seen or heard from her since he had fought with her earlier the day before, and the guilt weighs him down as he leaves the house and checks the neighborhood around them for any sign of her.

He burns through an entire pack of cigarettes as he scours Imp City, fingers trembling as he lights the last one a mere thirty minutes before he’s due back at the station; not early, for once, so consumed in his frantic search for his girl that he hadn’t thought to see if anyone needed him before his actual shift. He’s sure he looks like a disaster now—a far cry from the poised, presentable anchor the city had seen just last night. He hadn’t showered, his clothes were wrinkled, and he hadn't even had a proper meal. His screen was in dire need of a wet wipe, coated with grime from the city’s pollution that made it difficult to see.

Kora has to be out there somewhere. She wouldn’t just leave him, not with how much she loved him, not with how close they were to the future he wanted for them. If something was wrong he would find her, bring her home; whatever it took.

Movement catches his eye; a bird Sinner that slinks along the shadows of the buildings like a wraith, seeming to almost blend in and evade sight as they moved. They hold a scrap of fabric clenched in their fist that they bring to their beak, the twitch of their mouth visible even from where Vincent stood. Their eyes gleam red in the darkness, a predator that’s caught the scent of their prey, and as the Sinner turns to peek an even darker alley Vincent’s first instinct is to follow them.

He wasn’t familiar enough with the darker parts of Imp City, the Pride Rings as a whole, to know all the places a person could disappear to. If they could track by scent, maybe he could give them something of Kora’s- her sheets, her clothes, anything in the apartment that her scent clung to like skin- to help find her, make sure that she wasn’t in trouble. 

The alternative was unthinkable.

“Fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

The words from their last fight ring like a death knell in his ears. He can’t push them away, can’t pretend they weren’t said- they echo in his mind like when she had told him she loved him. He had been angry. He had been frustrated, but now, in the quiet of the night with Kora’s absence weighing on him like a stone in his chest, he’s not so sure anymore.

Would she leave him? Would she give up on their future because he’d failed to be there when she needed him most? Was he consistently failing her like he had always feared he would, and the day before had been the last straw?

Vincent squeezes his eyes shut, forcing the thoughts back. No. She wouldn’t leave him. Not when everything they’d fought for, everything he had worked towards for her, was so close.

The bird vanishes into the shadows, disappearing down the alley with a speed and certainty that makes Vincent’s breath catch in his throat. He’s hardly taken a step after the Sinner when his watch beeps at him angrily, the alarm he had set earlier in his search to let him know the latest he could leave for the station if he wanted to be on time. Indecision immobilizes him.

In his place, Kora would choose him every time; it would never even be a choice for her. But she had never been in his position before, so close to the top his fingers scrabbled at the edge to pull himself up. He had proven himself the night before, sure- but that could change at a moment’s notice, and he would be right back where he started if they felt for even a moment that he wasn’t committed and willing to do whatever it took. 

Guilt sits heavy in his chest, the ring that still sits in his pocket feeling like it’s burning him as he stands there knowing that either choice was the wrong one, and turns to head towards the station.

SORRY LOL

There are 3 more chapters before we move on to part two! I promise they'll be happy- not in this fic, but eventually! ❤️

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5 📺 Chapter 6 💛Chapter 7

[ghostr0tz]

did somebody order tangled up twink

[dingbatsy]

Alastor sucks at roleplay!

Thanking @notherpuppet for gifting the fandom with this perfect nurse Alastor design 💕

Who will be his next patient, I wonder? 🤔

[radiostatik]

Alastor coming out of the tailor shop being like, "I'm looking hotter than jambalaya, time to tease my arch-nemisis."

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Gonna be busy the next couple of days and I didn’t want to hang onto these for that long so Suprise!

Part 1 I guess. No idea how long on the other parts but I hope you guys like it! Let me know.

Part 2