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Thank you so much for reading my humble and rough adamsapple comic, and for your kind feedback. It’s been a huge encouragement, and above all, it’s made me so happy. Thank you ever so much...!
ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) Around 2-3 months have passed from the second part (so reader is in her. 3rd-4ish month of pregnancy). Once the reader is late in her pregnancy, I'll make the story less spaced out, but like doing stories where it all happens one after another would genuinely have 500 parts.
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Vox jerks it to you through his cameras because hes a pervert, you go to the doctor's and my oh my does Vox become such a control freak in this chapter! Oh, reader loses her mind too!
ᴄᴡ: reader is pissed for like 80% of this chapter lol, Vox is an 1950s old asshole, shots, voyeurism, face sitting, reader has a BUSH, vox cums in 25 seconds time (world record), fluff
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.9k
ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ➔ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
"Hahh, mmmf, O-Oh FUUck!" Vox moans, pumping his cock rapidly as he watches you through surveillance footage. You'd caught him on the shower cameras, sure, and he uninstalled them. But, you never said anything about the other cameras in your floor, and, boy, did he make sure to make good use of them.
And when he just so happened to catch you shirtless looking at your baby bump in the mirror? His cocked practically jumped into his hand. The sight of you growing with his kid inside you in his tower on the floor he gave you? You might as well wear a dog collar with his name on it.
His hips buck into his hand, making the console rattle under him. He bites his lip, his sharp teeth sinking into his screen and nearly drawing blood. "Nnnf," he moans, using his free hand to slide around his body.
He wanted you to touch him like this, to worship every dip and curve of his body like the God he is. If only he could get you under him, but you're too much of a 'fucking brat' to tame.
He looks up at the footage with dark, narrowed eyes. Why did you have to resist him at every turn? Bossing him around, pretending to be all independent when he knows you'll come running to him when your bank account runs low again.
He pumps himself faster, imagining you finally obeying him. He can't wait to see you all domestic... carrying around his baby, making him lunch, being the most obedient little house-wife he could ask for...
He feels his stomach tighten, his cock pulsing in his hand as he approaches his peak. His other hand glides around his chest, dipping under his shirt and finding his pec.
He swirls a pointed claw around his nipple, eliciting a soft moan at the sensation. Gently at first, he squeezes his nipple before pinching it tighter. "Ah!" he winces, but continues to tweak with the bud in his hands.
He settles on a steady roll between his fingers, the sensation making his back arch. Vox's mouth stays agape, little strings of incoherent words and moans leaving his lips.
A tingling sensation builds in his spine before moving into his cock, a tense feeling settling into the base. He slams his hips into hims hand, pinching and jerking to release the heavy pressure taunting him.
He glances back up to you who's now settled onto the couch with a hand resting on your stomach. "Oh, FUCK," cum shoots out of him and hits the monitor, the pressure finally subsiding and washing over him in waves.
His gradually relaxes and slumps against the seat, grimacing at the mess made before him. With a heavy sigh, he grabs some tissues out of the drawer beside him and wipes himself and the screen clean.
Just as he gets everything back in order, your contact overturns his screen, signaling an incoming call. Vox transfers the call onto his phone and answers, "Yes?".
"Vox? It's been a week since the last injection, I need your... help... again.".
"Right," he sighs, "I'll be there, hang tight.".
He sits up from his chair and tucks his phone into his inner jacker pocket. With a wave of a blue electric shock, Vox disappears out of his office and into your living room.
You, now thankfully fully clothed, jump as Vox suddenly spawns beside you. "Jesus," you heave, "can't you just walk in like a regular person?!".
Vox ignores you gestures to the couch, "Lay down, we have a doctor's appointment in 20. I don't have time to argue.".
You grumble and plop onto the couch, begrudgingly presenting your backside to him. Vox grabs the progesterone shot and positions himself behind you. With zero hesitation, Vox unceremoniously yanks your pants down and gently inserts the needle.
"So," he says, "are you feeling fine lately?".
You wince as the shot pierces your skin, "Aside from barfing every morning? I guess I'm fine". Even though you'd done this numerous times before, you still couldn't get used to Vox casually taking your pants off and giving you a shot.
"Any bump yet?" he asks, as if he wasn't gawking at you through the security cameras just a few moments earlier.
"Eh, a slight one, nothing to write home about"
Vox hums and pulls out the needle before tossing it in a nearby trashcan. "Alright," he pats your ass, "let's go.".
"Hey!" you lift up your pants and turn to glare at him, "that was not necessary!".
"No time to argue, sweetheart," he smirks.
"That's always your excuse," you mutter. You groan and walk out the door and into the elevator with him at your side, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
The doctor's appointment didn't exactly go to great. Everything started out routine: taking your temperature, blood pressure, asking questions, and doing an ultrasound. But, as soon as the words "slight high blood pressure" left the doctor's lips, Vox nearly had a heart attack.
A string of frenzied questions came from Vox to which the doctor simply replied, "She's fine.". Dr. Menville explained that it'll need to be closely monitored, but given the circumstances, he was certain it was due to external factors, like stress, than some other underlying medical issue.
After the appointment, Vox sits in the car silently, his foot tapping against the car floor as his mind spins. In his mind, he viewed this as a failure on his part. How could he let you be stressed to this end? What wasn't given to you that made you feel anxious?
As soon as you enter onto your floor of the V Tower, the silence drops. "I can't fucking believe it," he yells, "high blood pressure? What the fuck are you so stressed out about that's gotten you this way?".
He pulls out his wallet and angrily rifles through bills, "Is it the money?! Am I somehow not paying you enough? Is there some shady imp you fucking owe money to?!".
You pinch the space between your eyes and sigh, "Vox—".
"No!" he yells, "don't "Vox" me! We had a deal! All you have to do is not die and somehow I found the most ill-ridden hellborn to carry my kid!".
"Are you seriously blaming me for this?" you ask. Vox had always been very dramatic, but this was a whole other level. You felt rage bubble in your stomach as you meet his accusatory expression.
Taking a step closer, you look up at him and scowl, "Maybe it's the fact that I'm carrying a living being in my stomach! Ever thought of that, genius? Jesus, you can be so fucking dense!".
Vox's face drops, his hands falling to his sides once you snap at him. He opens his mouth, an apology threatening to fall from his lips before his ego holds it back.
He stands straighter and looks down at you, his expression flat, "Hm, I guess you're approaching the "emotional" stage of pregnancy. I'll have a worker develop something to monitor this "stress" of yours. In the meantime...".
His body leans forward to look at you with a snarky expression, "Try not to let these 'womanly' emotions get the best of you, 'kay?".
Before you can rip him to shreds, Vox flashes out of the room, leaving you heaving with rage. You yell and flip off the security camera you know he's probably watching, "Fuck you!".
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
A couple hours pass and your anger subsides. After a long call to your friend, you manage to calm yourself enough. It's ironic how high your blood pressure probably spiked when arguing with Vox about blood pressure, and, yet, he still chalked it up to hormones!
You're relaxing on the new plush couch of your living area when your pocket buzzes. With an eyeroll, you grab your phone out and answer the call, "Yes, Vox?"
"Ethan's gonna swing by and bring you a smartwatch to monitor your health.".
"Greaat," you say sarcastically.
"Don't get too excited," he says, "He'll be there soon. And next time, don't roll your eyes at me.".
He hangs up and the familiar feeling of anger flushes your face. You chuck your phone on the other side of the couch and slump down. Moments later, the doorbell rings.
"Can I get one fucking moment to myself around here?" you sit back up and walk to the door. You swing open the door and see Ethan nervously adjusting his glasses.
"G-Good afternoon, ma'am.".
"Hi," you flatly reply.
He presents the smartwatch to you and gestures for you to hold out your wrist. You sigh, letting the eel-esque sinner wrap the watch around you.
"There, now Mr. Vox will have access to your health at all times!".
"Fantastic," you're about to close the door on him before noticing a messaging app on the watch, "wait, what's this?".
Ethan leans forward to examine the app and explains, "It's a messaging app so Vox can have communication access 24/7!".
"Right, because a phone and the security cameras weren't enough," you murmur while dragging a hand down your face, "is that all?".
Ethan nods and steps back to let you shut the door. Once he's gone, you stare at the watch and sharply exhale, "This is gonna a pain in my ass, isn't it?"
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
You'd lost count of all the "little reminders" Vox left you on your watch, but you were certain of one thing: it was pissing you off. For the past 5 hours, Vox had critiqued every little reading from the watch.
If you had a snack, the watch would scan the food and send a detailed analysis of the nutritional value to Vox instantly. Soon after, the nagging would start:
[VOX:] "Sodiums too high in that."
[VOX:] "Don't even think of eating that baby poison.".
[VOX:] "The doctor told you to eat lots of high-protein meats and dark green vegetables."
[VOX:] "You know what, I'll send you a meal plan."
As if dealing with pregnancy wasn't enough, you now had a talking TV judging every small movement. Desperate to avoid any more complaints, you abide by his "advice" and follow his meal plan.
Yet, as you sit alone at your dining table, picking at the bland cooked salmon and plethora of unseasoned vegetables, you begin to regret appeasing him.
[VOX:] "Don't eat so fast, you'll get a stomach ache.".
"Ugh!" you groan, tossing your fork down onto the ceramic plate. "I'm done!". You rip the watch off your wrist and throw it against the wall. "Fucking control freak!" you march to your pantry and grab out all the junk food your cravings have desired.
Vox wasn't going to be happy, but the man's cup was never truly filled anyhow. From now on, you're doing things your way.
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
"Y/N!" Vox materializes before you in a angry blue bolt, his chest rising rapidly as he observes you slouched against the couch eating a bowl of ice cream and a party size bag of chips, "What the fᵾȼꝁ are you doing?!"
You ignore him and instead keep your eyes fixed on the television in front of you. Vox waves his arms in front of you, "Hello?! Earth to Y/N? Care to explain why I've had no readings on your watch for 3 hours?!".
With an look so sharp it could cut skin, you point to the cracked smartwatch in the corner of the room. Vox walks over in that direction and picks up the accessory with a peeved expression, "Do you have any idea how much this cost to make? How much time I put into designing this!?".
The tall overlord advances toward you and straddles you on the couch.
"Hey!" you yelp, "get off!".
"No," he seizes your wrist and forces the watch back on.
"I'm not putting that back on!" you throw the watch off.
"Damn it, y/n!"
"No!" you push your hands against his chest to get him off you, however, Vox was determined to keep you pinned against him.
"Why can't you just LISTEN!" he restrains your hands at either side of your head, preventing any movement from happening... Except in your lower half. Suddenly, you knee him in the stomach, eliciting him to whimper quietly before falling off the couch with you on top of him.
"Fu-hu-ckkk!" he clutches his stomach, "What is your problem! I'm just trying to help!"
"Help?!" you scoff, "Vox, you've been driving me crazy! You're the reason why I'm stressed out.".
"Don't be dramatic—"
"And I'm not being dramatic either! I'm pregnant and maybe a little hormonal, and I have every right to act this way! Hell, I should've kneed you harder!"
"Ůgħ!" his voice glitched, "Fucking fine! I won't make you wear the smartwatch-"
"And you'll stop bugging me!"
"Fine, and I'll stop bugging you, princess. But..."
"Oh god"
Vox sits up, bracing his hands on your back to keep you sat on top of him, "I still want to prevent any stress your having, it's not good for the baby. And, if the baby isn't healthy, then this would just be a huge fucking waste, wouldn't it?"
You clear your throat, adjusting yourself on his lap to avoid sitting on his groin, "You can start by ditching all this "doctor's orders" crap. I know what my body wants and I'm the only one in charge of giving into that.".
"Okay, but I have a feeling that's not the only thing on your mind, princess...".
"It's not, you can also—" a hand slithers onto your thigh and cups your clothed pussy, "hey! W-what do you think your doing?".
"It's okay," his palm pushes forward and presses against your clit, "you can lean into it. That watch told me a lot of things, and one thing's for sure. You're pent up, babe".
"Excuse me?"
"Shh shh," he coos, "don't get worked up, just feel—".
You scramble off his lap, "I'm not having sex with you!".
He reaches out and grabs your calf, "Who said anything about sex? I'll "service" you if it means getting your cortisol lowered. It's just the practical way.".
You snatch your leg away from his grasp, "There's nothing practical about this!".
Vox scoffs and crosses his arms, "You know what, you're right. The practical way was letting me monitor you! But you didn't want that!".
"I don't want this either!"
"Sø wħaŧ đø ɏøᵾ fᵾȼꝁɨnǥ wanŧ?!"
"For you to LEAVE!"
Silence hangs in the air between you, Vox's face slightly flushed as he stares at you silently. He stands up, his head lifting upward like a defiant child, "If that's how you want it to be, fine. I'll stop helping you.".
"Jesus Christ finally!"
Vox zaps out of the room, leaving you with an actual moment of peace for the first time since you've been pregnant...
Unfortunately, your peace didn't last long.
Once night fell, you crawled into your bed and tried to make yourself comfortable to rest. Your body, however, had other plans. A sharp pain shot through your lower back, making you toss and turn and preventing any plans of rest.
"Shit," you groan while rubbing the base of your spine. You mourned the time spent without this sudden pain, remembering the good times where you were comfortable. Your mind drifts to a time when you felt at ease, like when Vox pressed his large hand against you while perched on his lap. You could've sworn you felt a bulge before readjusting yourself too.
"Ew, fuck," you cringe. You couldn't help yourself from daydreaming, though. For once, you felt actually good. It just had to be in the arms of someone you'd despised for the past few months.
As if your body had a mind of its own, you lift yourself out of bed, and walk out of your room. You kick on your slippers and stroll past your door without thinking.
A shaky hand hits the elevator button to his floor. This could be a huge mistake, but you were aching for sleep (and a bit of sexual gratification. Vox was right, you were pent up!).
Once the elevator brings you to Vox, you hesitantly cross the thresh hold and stand before on the two large, navy blue doors to his floor.
With a deep breath, you slowly knock on the hard steel. A few seconds pass before Vox answers the door clad in just his navy dress pants and white collared shirt. His eyes widen as he finds you playing coy at his doorstep. "Well well well," he smirks, "look who decided to show up.".
You drag a hand down your face, "Yeah, I can't believe I'm here either. Can I come in?".
Vox steps aside and gestures for you to come in. A smug grin stays fixed on his screen as you settle into his penthouse, "Well? Can I help you?".
"I need you to... help satisfy me," you mutter under your breath.
"What was that, princess?"
"I need help being—"
"Still can't quite hear you.".
"For the love of God— I need you to give me head!".
"Awh, that wasn't so hard was it?" he grabs you by the waist and ushers you into his bedroom. He leans down and whispers, "Maybe this will help you be less of a fucking brat.".
His hands slithering up your body leaving chills in their wake, "Finally decided to accept what's good for you, hmm Doll? You're lucky I'm not making you beg for it...".
"Don't even think about it.".
His claws travel down to hook into the waistband of your pants.
"Wait," you hold his hand back, "I haven't had the energy to... clean up down there.". You cringe as the words leave your mouth, your eyes scrunching together as you brace yourself for his reaction.
"Doll," he chuckles, "I'm from the 50s, I'm used to it.".
"Oh Satan, this is so humiliating...".
He turns you around to face him and presses a kiss to your forehead, "Just relax. You worry too much.". Gently, he pulls your pants down to your ankles, taking your panties down with them.
He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts it up over your head. You toy with your hands awkwardly as his eyes rake over your. "C'mon," he cocks his head to the side and positions himself down on the bed.
With a deep breath, you climb beside him and hesitantly hover yourself above his head, facing his chest "Are you sure your screen isn't gonna, like, crack or something?".
"I'm positive I'll be okay. I'm pretty durable."
Slowly, you lower your pussy onto his mouth. "Oh," you moan, his tongue immediately getting to work on your clit. His tongue flicks back and forth against your sensitive, aching bud, sending sparks throughout your stomach.
Vox hums against you, sending a pleasant vibration directly onto your wet cunt.
"Hah— keep doin' that...".
You start to rock your hips against his screen, desperate to release your tension. He latches onto your clit and sucks on it, making a wet 'schlurping' sound as he greedily suckles onto you.
Bracing yourself against his chest, you roll your hips harder onto his screen. The lack of any features to grind against was a struggle, but Vox surprisingly made up for it with the intense attention he was giving to your pussy.
Although Vox promised to focus his attention on only you, he couldn't help the arousal that tented his pants. He tried to not draw attention to it, but it was hard to ignore with him getting more turned on by the second.
He told himself that this was for your sake, that this was entirely your idea. But, if he was honest with himself... being sat and humped on by the mother of his child was exactly the position he wanted to be in.
Unable to control his urges any longer, Vox grinds his hips upward to get at least an ounce of friction from his pants.
With heavily lidded eyes, you look up to see Vox's massive bulge humping the air. You almost felt a little sorry for him— he was probably pent up too. Reaching forward, you grab his cock and palm him through his trousers.
Vox whimpers against you, his claws digging into your thighs tighter. "Th'nk y'u..." he says, voice muffled by your cunt, "W'na k'no somthin' good 'bout bein' part technol-oy?".
"What?"
Without further clarification, Vox inserts his tongue into your sopping pussy as far as he can until reaching your cervix. "Holy shit!" you gasp, accidentally gripping Vox's cock too hard, "s-sorry I didn't mean tooo-OOOOH!".
Vox's tongue begins to vibrate inside you at a high intensity. His tongue continues to dart around and slither around your insides, pulsing against that sweet spot that made you see stars.
"Vox," you moan out, the coil tightening in your stomach, " 'M really close...". You didn't want to finish alone though, oh no, he couldn't have all that power over you.
Bringing your hand to your lips, you spit onto your palm and reach forward into his pants. You find his cock and stroke it in time with your thrusts against his face, eliciting little whimpers from him.
Just as that coil inside you teeters over the edge and bursts open, Vox spills onto your hand and all over his pants. He bucks into your hand wildly as you grind against his screen with wild abandon, desperately riding that high he gave you.
Once your orgasm subsides, your legs go weak and, suddenly, post-orgasm clarity hits you. You fall to the side of the bed and grab the duvet covers to hide yourself. Vox's screen lights up with a baby blue spread across his cheeks.
He slides off his sticky pants, leaving him in his dress shirt and messy red boxers. "Well," he clears his throat, "did that help you, uh, at all?".
"I-I guess," you stammer, turning your head to leave his gaze. As if your mind wasn't reeling enough from the world-shattering orgasm you just had, the familiar pang returns.
"Oh shit!" your hands fly to your back to brace yourself.
Vox sits up and is immediately at your side, "What happened? Talk to me, doll, did I hurt you? Is it the baby? Are you in labor?!".
"What?! No! Vox I'm six months away from my due date! It's just my back.". Tears well in your eyes as you lay flat against his bed, "I came here to try to alleviate the pain and it ended up being a waste of time!"
Vox couldn't ignore the way his chest tightened at your words. Was this really a waste of time to you? If it was, he'd make sure you felt your time was well spent, even if it meant going a bit soft.
Large hands wrap around your waist and turn you onto your side, "Vox, what are you doing?".
"You can't sleep on your back. And, heat helps," he spoons your lower half, pressing his warm screen against your back. The act of tenderness from Vox was as surprising as it was helpful.
His head acted like a heating pad and soothed the cramping that prevented you from getting sleep. "Oh, that's so much better, thank you," you lean into his touch more, eyes fluttering shut as a deep exhaustion falls upon you.
"No problem, I'll be here all night," he says. He rubs his hans up and down your side, lulling you to finally rest after one of the longest days of your afterlife.
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
ok heres pt 3 haha suprise who knows when pt 4 is out maybe tomorrow maybe in 6 business months ok bye
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Mood swings be kicking in! Anywho, your doctor's appointment requires you to take some injections that freak you the fuck out. Luckily, Vox is feeling soft.
ᴄᴡ: vox being right, mood swings, pregnancy, injections, fluff, un-consented watching, vox gets a boner!!
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.3k
ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ➔ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
"So, this is all mine?" you ask, walking across the empty penthouse floor. The space presented to you was large and blank, complete with sparse minimalistic furniture.
Vox rolls his eyes, continuing to type on his phone while speaking, "Mhm, all yours.".
You walk around the penthouse, peaking your head into all the rooms: the master bedroom, master bathroom, kitchen, living room, and guest bed and bath. Each room had standard blank furniture that, although was nice, seemed more like a model-home rather than a home-home.
"Am I free to decorate how I want?" you ask him, your hands folded behind you as you rock on your heels. Vox glances up at you and then back at his phone. Using his free hand, he digs into his coat pocket and grabs out a black leather wallet.
"Here," he says handing you his credit card, "make it your own. You can return the card to me when your done.".
Your eyes widen as you grab the card from him, "Oh, uh thank you! I'll return it as soon as possible.".
"I'll see you at your doctor's appointment, we can meet then.".
"Right, the appointment," you exhale softly, "I guess I'll see you there."
"Uh huh," He mutters absentmindedly in response and turns to walk out, "don't be late.".
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
After Vox had left, you weren't in the mood to go furniture shopping. The approaching appointment ate away at you. What if you miscarried and had to get another insemination? Or worse, what if you had some complication that risked your life?
The thought made you shutter, giving you a stomach ache that lasted all day. How could you possibly focus on anything else? You couldn't even get yourself to eat in these conditions. Its funny, for the first time in your life you had the money to afford all the groceries you want and yet, you could hardly get yourself to eat a grain of rice!
After hours of anxiously waiting, you left the tower for the dreaded doctors appointment. The driver Vox arranged for you picked you up and dropped you off at curb of the OBGYN office.
"Thank you!" you call out as you close the car door.
Just then, a VoxTek branded limosine pulls up in front of you. The driver quickly hops out of the front and rushes to the side to open the door. Vox steps out of the vehicle and practically shoves a tip into the sinner's face, "Be back here in an hour.".
"For someone who wants to remain unrecognized, you sure to like to make an entrance," you remark, gesturing to the obnoxious vehicle.
He crosses his arms, "Haha, very clever. You can make jokes after the doctor's visit".
Eugh. A chill runs down your spine at the reminder of appointment that awaited you. "You're no fun," you murmur, walking briskly inside the building.
You check yourself in and are called into an office by a nurse. Vox follows the two of you into the room and sits on a chair adjacent to the bed.
"Dr. Menville will be here shortly," the nurse says before leaving.
You groan and slump back against the bed, "Do we have to keep Dr. Menville as my doctor?".
"You have a problem with the top rate doctor I'm paying for, princess?" he says mockingly, "poor you."
You narrow your eyes at him, "He's creepy an you know it.". Settling against the cushions, you murmur, "It wouldn't hurt to get a female doctor.".
He arches an eyebrow and leans forward in the chair, "Dr. Menville is discrete and highly commended. Unless he did something to discredit himself, then being "creepy" isn't exactly enough to switch fucking doctors.".
"Whatever..."
Silence settles into the cold room, the only sound being the anxious drumming of your hands against your thigh.
With a reluctant effort to check on you, Vox asks, "So, what did you buy?".
You snap your head to Vox, his question knocking you out of your thoughts, "Huh?"
"For your floor," he leans back against the chair, his legs spreading far apart, "the thing I gave you my credit card for.".
"Oh right," you fiddle with your hands as you explain, "I didn't end up buying anything, actually. I just, didn't feel like it.".
Vox hums in response, leaning his head against his palm.
The doctor knocks on the door before letting himself in, "Good evening. Nice to see you both.".
"Doctor Menville," Vox nods toward him in acknowledgment.
Dr. Menville wastes no time in getting you ready. He sets up the ultrasound machine and gestures to you vaguely, "Alright, lift your shirt for me. Let's check on these guys."
"These guys?!" you sit up abruptly, "there are multiple?!"
"Could be," he casually mentions while reaching for some gel in a nearby drawer. He sits on a swivel chair and pushes himself beside you. "IVF often causes twins, or even triplets!".
Your eyes search for Vox desperately. He said nothing about having multiple kids!
Vox crosses his arms over his chest, "Relax, Doll-face. Your contract clearly states you only need to produce one heir."
"Oh thank god," you relax into the seat. Cold gel hits your stomach, a cold mental instrument rubbing over it to get an image of your child. The monitor placed in front of Dr. Menville flickers with strange black and white movement.
"Good news," the doctor says, his eyes glued to the screen while he mechanically rubs the instrument over your stomach, "There seems to be only one embryo from what I'm seeing.".
"What exactly are you seeing?" you lean forward slightly to get a better look at the strange ink-blot-esque screen.
He points towards a white outlined circle, "That right there is the embryo. And beside that is the yolk sack. Everything seems to be in order, nothing to be of concern as far as I can tell.".
Vox shifts in his seat at the doctor's words, his shoulders slackening slightly.
"But," the doctor adds, sending Vox's shoulders to hunch anxiously again, "I want you to take progesterone injections to help support the pregnancy along the way. They'll be taken once a week and administered in the outer upper area of the buttock. Got it?"
"Another injection?" you protest, "Isn't there some type of pill I can take?!"
"Unfortunately no," he sets the monitor aside and wipes the gel off you, "These injections, while inconvenient, are crucial to supporting the embryo and preventing a miscarriage.".
"We'll do it," Vox turns to you, his eyes narrowing, "right?".
"Right," you sigh, pulling your shirt back up, "Is that all?".
"That's all, you're good to go."
You get up make your way to the door, waiting for Vox to follow. He stays seated and exchanges glances with the doctor, "I'll meet you in the car. There's some... technical, things we need to work out."
"Alright," you say, pushing open the door, "I'll see you later.".
The door clicks shut as you leave, Vox's eyes following you out the door. Once your out of sight, he snaps his attention to the doctor, "You took the sonogram, correct?".
"They'll be available in a day or two. I'll send them over to your assistant along with the bill.".
Vox nods and stands up, "I'll make sure to send the payment over shortly". He grabs the other man's rough hands and shakes it in firmly.
Doctor Menville pulls Vox forward and whispers in a low, gravely voice, "And the means for my discretion...?"
Vox pulls back and digs into his wallet, muttering curses under his breath. He pulls out a wad of cash and shoves it into the doctor's chest, "There. I trust you'll stay true to your word?".
"Always do," he says, a rare smile crossing his face as he counts the cash in his hands, "I look forward to our next visit!".
"I'm sure you do," Vox mutters as he walks out, "fuckin' leech."
Vox meets you in the car, slamming the door shut with a huff as he settles into the backseat.
"What'd the doctor say?” you ask.
Vox tilts his head, his eyes raking over you briefly, “Nothing. He’s just burning a fucking hole through my wallet.”. He leans forward and taps his knuckles against the partition window separating the driver from you.
The window slides open with a whir. "Take us to Defamation Hardware," Vox says. The driver nods and puts the partition back up.
"Wait," you scrunch your eyebrows, "don't you have work? I can get the furniture myself-".
Vox side eyes you before rotating his chest to fully face you. He leans back against the plush car seats, his legs habitually parting across the space, "No, you can't. I'll go with you. It's good for you to get out anyway.".
"I suppose," you say. You tuck your legs close to you, huffing sharply at the limited space given from the obnoxious manspreading, "Can't you sit normally? Just cross your legs or something!"
His eyes widen before moving, kicking his leg reluctantly over his thigh, "Don't be a brat.".
"I'm not being a brat," you fuss, "I just like having my personal space.".
"Must be the pregnancy hormones," he brushes off. "Change of plans," he calls out to the driver, "head to that burger place off Exit 666 first.".
You drag a hand down your face and groan, "Vox, I'm not hormonal or hungry!".
"Whatever you say, Doll," he scrolls on his phone, "regardless, you need to eat. This place is good, you'll like it.".
You exhale softly and stare out the window, " 'M not hungry... I haven't even been able to eat all day—".
Vox twists his neck unnaturally toward you, "You WĦĀT?!". His voice glitches, his screen sparking blue bolts of electricity, "You ħavęňť bėęň ĒÄŤIŅĠ?!"
"I'm not hungry! It isn't a big deal!"
"Įțs— häħ— ŷøu— hff!" he stutters incredulously, "You think this isn't a big deal?!". "Sweetheart," he says through a tight smile, "taking care of yourself is part of the deal. So if eating is included in that...". He leans forward, grabbing your defiantly lifted chin and bringing it close enough for you to feel his breath against you, "Then you're gonna do it. Got it sweetheart?".
"...Got it," you say with gritted teeth. You pull back roughly and slouch against the seat, "dick."
"Good," He smiles softly and leans back, his eyes scanning you, "relax. You'll feel better once you finally put some fucking food in your gut.".
The driver pulls into the burger place and opens the partition for Vox to order. "Two milkshakes and two mega-burgers, use the company card.". A few moments later, Vox grabs the greasy bag of food and brings it into the backseat.
He hands you a wrapped up cheeseburger and a milkshake, "Here you go, sweetheart.". You take the food tentatively and unwrap the oily morsels. As soon as you take a bite, you melt into seat. Fuck, you really were just hungry.
"Better?" he asks.
"Mhmmm," you moan softly, going in for another bite. You hated that he was right, but at least your stomach wasn't bothering you anymore.
Vox laughs, a smirk threatening to stretch his lips before quickly concealing it with a flat expression. You tilt your head, studying him with a careful eye, "Did you just smile?"
"No," he says defensively.
"Yes you did!"
"No, I did not" he asserts, shoving a half eaten burger back into the bag.
You chuckle and take a sip of your milkshake, "Sure, 'sweetheart'."
He sighs and pinches the area between his mouth an eyes, "Whatever. Let's just get your little "shopping" adventure done and be done with this outing.".
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
Vox helped you out with shopping, offering his very insightful (and definitely not judgemental) advice on what to buy. He even got some employees to help you set in the furniture. It was nice, actually.
'Maybe this arrangement wont be so bad' you think to yourself as you walk around your newly decorated place.
"What do you think?" Vox asks, following you with his hands folded behind him. He stops in front of you and grins, "Is it to your liking, princess?".
"It is, thank you.".
He hums softly before adding, "Good, and before I forget...". He pulls his phone out of his pocket and quickly types out a message, "Ethan is picking up the progesterone injections. He'll swing by to give them to you later today and I'll help inject it."
"I can do it myself," you interrupt.
Vox crosses his arms against his chest, "Can you? I trusted you to feed yourself and you couldn't even do that.".
"I'm not a child," you take a step closer to him and glare, "I'm capable of taking care of myself, thank you.".
"Fine, be a brat," he turns on his heel and strides towards the door. "Remember, upper outer buttock!" he calls out before leaving.
"Yeah yeah, I've got it!"
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
Ethan dropped off the box of injections a short while after Vox left and, as much as you hated to admit it, they intimidated the fuck out of you. The package consisted of a pointy syringe and a box holding a small bottle of some sort of oily fluid.
You pull the needle out and shudder. It was at least an inch and a half and sharp enough to poke your eye out. The sight made you want to throw up.
Carefully, you plunge the injection into the bottle and suck some of the fluid into it. "Ohh fuck," you say to yourself with apprehension. You pull your pants slightly down to expose your upper ass.
The task was difficult, to say the least. You had to feel around for where to put it, making sure to hold it at the right angle so you don't give yourself nerve damage.
As the cold, sharp mental pricks your ass, your heartbeat begins to race, your mind spinning as you begin to plunge it deeper in.
Just as your about to break skin, you squirm and toss the needle aside. "Fuck!" you slap a hand to your face and break out in tears. Vox was right, you couldn't do it. You barely even have control of your emotions anymore!
With a shakey hand, you pick up your phone and are about to call Vox when all the sudden, the elevator to your floor dings open. "Y/N?" Vox calls out, "I trust that the injections went smoothly— Y/N?".
He finds you in the bedroom, teary eyed on the bed with the injection tossed beside you. "I couldn't do it," you say, trying to fight back a loud sob.
He sighs, "Figured. C'mon. On your stomach.". You wipe your eyes and nod, presenting your back to him.
Vox picks up the shot and flicks it with his claw to get any bubbles out. Just as he begins to position the needle, your body begins to convulse with choked sobs.
"Why are you crying?" he groans, "it's just a lousy fucking injection!".
You lift your head up, "I-I don't know! It's scary and I couldn't even do it myself! I can't do anything for myself anymore!".
Vox rolls his eyes and sets the injection aside, "Oh my God— Alright, sit up.".
You furrow your eyebrows and obey, sitting on your calves before being enveloped in a hug by Vox. Your body tenses against him. Vox felt cold, awkward, and even a bit boney— it was evident that this gesture was a bit foreign to him.
But, as his arms rubbed against your back and tangled in your hair, you felt yourself relax against him. "There there," he says flatly, "it's gonna be fine. Just relax...".
Slowly, his hand leaves your head and grabs the injection. "Breath," he pokes the injection into you gently and released the fluid in it. You grip onto his shirt, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to bare the pain.
He takes out the injection and rubs your back, "All done.". You lift your head and look up at him. "See?" he says, wiping a tear off your cheek with his clawed thumb, "that wasn't so bad.".
"No, it wasn't," you lift your pants back up and hold his hand, "thank you.".
His eyes flicker to your conjoined hands, a loving smile spreading on his face at the sight. He exhales softly and looks back at you to see a surprised expression on your face.
He pulls back and clears his throat, "It's no problem. It's apart of the contract after all.". Turning his face to the side, he covers his blush with his hand, "I should go.".
"Oh," you feel a pang in your chest as he pulls away, "I-I guess I'll see you later?".
He glances back at you, "I guess so. Bye.".
"Uh, bye?" you say, watching as Vox flashes abruptly out of the room in electric blue bolt. You sigh and click your tongue, "Huh...".
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
After Vox had left, you decided to unwind for the day. You made some pasta in your newly furnished kitchen and then took a shower. As the hot, soapy water runs down your exhausted body, the day plays back in your mind.
The threat of miscarrying, the shots, and, overall, Vox's ability to care for you in one of your weakest moments. You figured that as an overlord and sinner, he'd have no paternal or even basic care instincts— but, after today, just maybe you were wrong...
Maybe he wasn't just doing this for business reasons. Could he actually be a good father to this kid? Just as you begin to think fondly on the overlord, you spot a red blinking dot on the side of your new shower head.
"What the—" you inspect the tiny mechanism and gasp, "A hidden camera? Oh no he FUCKING DIDN'T!"
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
Vox snaps his head towards his office door as you come in soaking wet in nothing but a towel. "Y/N?" he says, quickly swiping off the monitor that displayed the various cameras throughout your floor.
You slam the now-broken shower head onto his desk and fold the towel tighter over you, "Care to FUCKING explain, pervert?!".
A blush spreads across his face as he finds himself momentarily flustered, "Aha— I-I can assure you, Doll, that this was completely necessary!".
"A camera in my shower was necessary?!" you slap his arm, eliciting a dramatic "ow!" from Vox.
Vox rubs the spot where you struck and snarls, "It's in your contract little miss "I DoN't rEaD tHe fInE pRiNt"". He mimics your voice, trying to spin this on you.
"Ohoh don't you dare! I do not sound like that!". You jab at his chest accusingly, "Don't blame this on me, little mr. "i'M a LoNeLY VoYEur!"".
Vox recoils and blinks rapidly at your assesment, "Wha— W-Well I—".
"Keep the cameras OUT of my bedroom and bathroom!" you grab his tie and yank him toward you, "Got it?"
"Hnff— Y-Yes, fine!" he says, falling back into his chair once you let him go. He watches as you storm back out, his heart still racing from your heated interaction.
Dear God, did he wish it lasted longer... Hell, he could've pushed you farther! Could've made you pull that necktie tighter and tighter until his screen malfunctioned...
The thought made his pants tighten uncomfortably and shift in his seat. "Fuck," he groans, glancing down at the pants tent that definitely needed tending to...
I'm still on holiday, but I can feel a lot of the pressure that has built up over the last year finally lifting. The downside is that the urge to draw the pain out is also getting less, but I'm trying to integrate art into my daily life without being in crisis mode (any tipps are highly appreciated).
However, I also want to cherish these last few crazy months and since I love having something physical in hand, I've started making a book for myself, and it' feels super awesome to see my progress but also to read all the comments and conversations again (still thinking about, how to integrate them into the book)
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notes: creative name, amiright? lol anyways this is random... no promises for reg uploads I just got divine inspo
summary: Vox is your boss and you're sort of fuck-buddies on the down-low. He messages you one night to come over, only for him to be high as a kite by the time you show up. Fortunately, this loser's libido is even higher then he is!
[NEW MESSAGE FROM: Vox (boss) 🩵]
Vox: Come over.
You: For what?
Vox: You know what.
You: Fine. See you in 20.
You set your phone in your pocket gently, your calm movements misrepresenting the excited flutter in your stomach. The "thing" you had with your boss was casual, and sometimes non-existent. And, still, even an ounce of affection had you acting like a completely different person.
Gone was the composed, efficient assistant Vox usually knew and in came the stumbling mess that melted under every touch. You always told yourself you'd act different, and every time your composure faltered upon seeing him. How humiliating.
After a brief look in the mirror and a change of clothes, you head over to your bosses floor of the V tower. The drive felt long, even though it was a relatively short drive. Anticipation gnawed at you the whole way there.
It'd been a few weeks since he'd given you attention. After the whole "war with heaven" debacle, Vox either hasn't had a body or been heavily sedated by the Vees to prevent him from going crazy again. It was almost sad seeing him so put down after everything... then again, he did hurt and almost kill half of the Pride ring, so you didn’t feel too bad for him.
After pulling into your designated parking space, you hop out of your car and head into the V-Tower, making sure to be inconspicuous as to not arouse attention to any nosy co-workers.
You walk into the elevator and scan your keycard to admit access to the 70th floor— Vox's floor. You brace yourself as the elevator quickly approaches the floor with a soft "ding" announcing your arrival.
"Just be cool," you quietly mutter to yourself. With a deep breath, you walk into the sleek penthouse. "Vox," you call out, "I'm here! ... Hello?".
"Over 'ere..." Vox's hand pops up from the couch and lazily waves you over, "c'mere.".
You walk over to the living area to find Vox laid out on the couch, a blissful smile on his face. Once he spots you, he sits up slowly and opens his arms wide, "Y/nnn! When'd you get here?".
You sigh, "Vox, I just walked in. Did Val give you sedatives again? Why does he need you on them now?".
"Noo, dollface, y've got it all wrong," he tugs on your pant leg and attempts to pull you onto the couch. "Work was fuckin' annoyin' and you were taking tooo long, so I did it myself!” He says triumphantly.
"Vox," you sit beside him and drag your hand down your face, "I didn't exactly plan to babysit you tonight...".
A clawed hand rubs up your thigh, "Who needs babysittin’?". He leans forward until you're laid against the couch, a lopsided smirk stretched across his screen, "I jus wanted to, y'know, fuck around.".
"You're high," you breathe out, trying to calm the arousal fluttering in your stomach, "we can't. I'm not gonna fuck you while you're barely even present.".
"Don' be like that, baby," he whines, grabbing your hand and peppering kisses along your arm, "I texted you before I e’en got high, I want you, Doll.".
"I don't know," you say. You try to resist him, but as soon as his lithe hands slide up your legs and pull down your pants, it was game over. Sitting up on his knees, Vox slides his trousers down and tosses them off haphazardly.
With a cocky smirk, he unbuttons his dress shirt and discards it onto the floor, leaving him in bright red boxers. Although the sight was tempting, you had to make sure he wasn't doing this because of the drugs.
"Wait," you sit up, "Vox, I really need to know if—".
"Shh shh," he coos, "I want this.”. He gestures to the tent in his boxers, “see? I can still get it up for you, sedated or not.”.
You whine, half tempted to talk through his sedative use and half temped to reach out and tug off his underwear.
With a resigned sigh, you concede, “Fine…”
___________
got lazy and didnt feel like writing smut, but perhaps ill do a part two with smut…
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