Lord Splooge

As the princess of Austrica, your parents had a lot of high expectations for you. Your mother was a traditional woman who was the embodiment of a "proper lady". She was firm and quiet, letting her actions speak louder than words and performing her royal duties as queen with grace and dignity.

The people truly admired her and could only hope their daughters would measure up to be half the woman she was. Your father was equally as admired and ruled over Austrica with an iron fist. He was ruthless, but necessary, putting the country's needs over his own and defending it with all he could.

it was under his leadership that the country thrived and expanded exponentially. You'd think that these two great leaders would produce a proper heir that would embody a beautiful blend of their virtuous traits.

Instead, they had you! After years of trying for a baby, your mother finally got pregnant! 9 months later, after all the anticipation and excitement— they found out you were a girl.

Your mother wept as the midwife handed you to her, trying to soothe you as you wailed in her arms. Your father consoled her, trying to hide his disappointment that he wouldn't be able to pass the throne off to you.

It was hard enough getting pregnant with one child, it was very unlikely that the queen would have the chance to produce another offspring. So, they hoped and prayed you'd grow up to be a lovely young woman who could take over as a monarch.

Unfortunately, you didn't quite fit into the royal standards put upon you. As a child, you were extremely energetic, always causing a ruckus and getting dirt on your clothes even if you hadn't gone outside the palace! You tried to act proper, but God it all just felt so ridiculous.

All the rules and expectations weighed on your shoulders, nit picking every breath until it made you resent them. You knew they had good intentions and just wanted to groom you into the perfect future queen, but the pressure was all too much to impose on one person.

One time, you'd secretly bought a low square cut evening gown and tried it on in your room. Just as you put it on, your mother had burst in and nearly passed out at the bare décolletage on her daughter.

You tried to explain that dresses of the sort were the up and coming fashion for young women, but she ignored you and confiscated the dress. Now the servants in your household were told to keep a close eye on you in case you decided to venture out and buy a "blasphemous" dress again.

At your debutante ball, you got ready in a gorgeous silk ivory gown that trailed behind you as you walked. You certainly looked the part of a mature lady who was ready for marriage! Unfortunately, as soon as you stepped out into the party you had to use all your might to fight back a laugh.

I mean, for God's sake those wigs were ridiculous! The young ambitious beaus wore these blindingly white birds-nest of a wig that nearly towered over their short stature. It was hilarious!

Your mother pinched your arm as soon as the first snickers left your lips though, a silent warning to knock it off. The ball finished and surprise surprise, no man was particularly interested in the girl who nearly choked on her wine from laughing so hard at everyone.

Anyway, the powdered wig fad eventually faded out, thankfully, but your parent's desire for you to meet another monarch had only grown stronger. Since you clearly expressed your reluctance to actually try and find a husband, they decided to take matters into their own hands and arrange one for you.

You begged them to reconsider, but they'd made their mind up already. You'd be married to some Duke Vincent of North Eurasia, a well-known Duke who was incredibly wealthy and infamously charming, whether you liked it or not.

A few months pass far too quickly, and now you're getting ready for the "big day". Your nerves were on the edge, your stomach shaking with fear and anxiety. How could you possibly prepare to marry a man you'd never met?

"Ow!" you exclaim, "does it have to be so tight that I can't breath?".

Your lady in waiting, Catherine, chuckled and pulled the laces tighter, "Yes, dear. A small amount of pain is worth an extraordinary amount of beauty!".

"I wouldn't exactly call this a "small" amount of pain," you mutter before gasping as she ties the garment in a tight knot. Catherine drapes and dresses you in the various elaborate fabrics that made up your wedding dress.

She fastens a creme bodice around you with off the shoulder sleeves which feature ornate, delicate lace patterns around it. The skirt of your dress goes past your ankles and forms a tail-like train that falls gracefully behind you.

Catherine pins white roses around your dress, decorating the expensive silk and bringing a pop of color with the green stems. She then lays a flower crown headband on you that matched the flowers on your dress and lays a diamond bib necklace across your clavicle.

With the final touches of a matching pair of earrings and a braided updo bun, your transformation was complete. "Woah," you say softly, "I actually look—"

"Stunning?" Catherine finishes with a smug smile, "I know. I told you the pain would be worth it.".

You chuckle and run a hand over your exposed shoulders, "Mother is going to loser her mind when she sees the cut of this dress, though.".

Catherine grabs a sheer white and lace fabric and drapes it over your shoulders, "That's what the shawl is for, darling.".

You smile and turn to her, "How will I manage without you?".

She laughs softly and takes your hand in hers, "You'll be just fine without me. I'm sure your new lady will suite you just fine. Now go along, your soon-to-be-husband is waiting!".

You take a deep breath and nod as she shoves a bouquet of blue Dendrobium Orchids and dark Delphiniums in your hand. She leads you out of the dressing area and by the alter. Soft violins begin to play as you arrive at the at the entrance, the people in the pews immediately standing to their feet and facing you. With an encouraging nudge from Catherine, you begin to walk down the aisle at a slow, hesitant pace.

The church was filled with people you didn't know. Powerful politicians from neighboring countries, other royalty, and at least two dozen family members you never met filled the pews and watched with a critical gaze as you walked down the alter.

You gaze lifts to see your soon to be husband waiting at the alter. He wore a navy blue suit with a matching long cape. Intricate gold patterns decorate the fabric and trail up from the bottom of the cloak, covering the shoulders like an epaullete and wrapping around the collar.

A golden sash diagonally wraps around his chest, partly covering the various medals adorned on his suit and broach that had a gold tasseled cord hanging from it. Gold patterns were sewn around the cuffs of his sleeves and pant legs, wrapping around the blue fabric like a bracelet.

His black hair was neatly combed into a voluminous side part, the color a start contrast to his light skin and eyes. The Duke was rather tall as well, towering over the priest with his sharp posture atop lanky limbs.

Once you reach the alter, you stand before your soon-to-be-husband. You look up at him and offer a small smile, but his cold mismatched eyes, one green and one blue, offer no solace, his mouth curved slightly downward in a thin line.

Looking away bashfully, you fiddle with with the flowers in your hand as the Priest begins to speak. You aren't quite listening when the priest goes on, too focused on the floor you're staring at and the fact that you may lose all autonomy after this ceremony.

Your only brought out of your dissociative state when the priests clears his throat. "Miss L/n?"

the priest says. "Huh?" you snap your gaze back upward.

"Do you take Duke Vincent to be your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?".

"Right right yes," you respond, "I mean, I do— I do.".

Vincent huffs sharply as you stumble over your vows. The priest asks Vincent the same question to which he confidently replies, "I do.".

He glances down at you as he says it, not because he meant it, but more in a smug way that seemed to say "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?". You scrunch your face at him, recoiling slightly at his unspoken tone before the priests ends the ceremony.

"In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you as the Duke and Duchess of North Eurasia!".

The audience erupts in applause while the Duke simply sighs and mutters, "Let's get this over with.".

You tilt your head, "Huh?". But before you can process, your swept off your feet by a crowd of men your bouquet falling on the floor and stomped on as they rush you off, "AH! What are you doing? Put me down!". The men pull at your garments, tearing off your delicate shawl and undoing the lace on your corset.

You see Vox ushered the same way as you, his cloak and shoes thrown off casually as he remains with a calculated expression. Why wasn't he more concerned?! You're dragged out the church and into the reception area where they carry you up the stairs and into a room.

They toss you on the bed, dropping Vox off alongside you and rush out with laughter and teasing comments. "What the hell was that?!" you yell out, "what were they thinking th—"

"Quite," he commands, "Someone will hear you. Now lets get on with it.".

"Get on with what?!— Mmph!" you push him off you as his lips suddenly press against yours, "What are you doing?".

He furrows his eyebrows, as if you were crazy, and replies, "What do you think I'm doing? Did you mother not tell you what happens after a wedding ceremony?".

Your face heats up as reality sets in— you actually had no idea what was supposed to happen after a wedding ceremony. He groans frustratedly at your silence, "Do you know anything?!".

"Hey!" you point a finger at him, "I'm not the one who's... who's perverted!".

He chuckles smugly with an angry undercurrent, "Ohoh, you think I'm perverted? We have to do this, whether or not we hate it. If they find out we avoided this, the marriage is void! So lets just get this over with before they get suspicious!".

You swallow nervously, taking in his words slowly. Why had no one warned you of this? Tears well up in your eyes as a pang in your stomach appears— were you really about to be... derobed in this manner? You'd just met for Gods sake.

Vincent notices your reluctant demeanor and gets off the bed abruptly, an agitated grunt hitting your ears harshly, "Jesus Christ!". He walks over to the nightstand and opens up the bottle of wine sitting on it.

He splashes the crimson liquid on the bedsheets and then rips them off the bed in a swift motion. Marching out of the room, he slams the door behind him and holds the "bloodly" sheets up for the wedding attendees to see. They cheer and applaud at the sight, offering reprieve for Vox that they bought it.

Meanwhile, you stay in the room sitting at the edge of the bed, clutching your chest. What had your parents gotten you into?

𓆩:¨༺✧ ♛ ✧༻¨:𓆪

The carriage ride home was awfully long and painfully silent. You stared at the window, missing Austrica and your friends and family within it. "Aren't you going to thank me?" Vincent asks expectantly.

You turn to him and furrow your eyebrows, "Thank you?".

"You're welcome."

"No—" you scoff, "I mean't thank you for what?".

He gestures his hand forward as if it were obvious, "For faking the sheets! Did you think I just did that for fun?".

You roll your eyes and continue looking out the window, "I'll thank you when something warrants thanking. I'm not rewarding you for not being a pig.".

The Duke crosses his arms and mutters "brat" under his breath before the carriage comes to a halt, "We're here.". Coachmen dressed in a black top hate and long, dark blue coat come to your and Vox's sides to open the door for you.

"Welcome home, your grace," the coachman says, offering a hand out to you.

"Thank you," You take his hand and step out of the carriage, marveling at the beautiful estate before you.

You walk into the massive courtyard, decorated with a large fountain, brick pavement leading to the entrance, and meticulously crafted statues laying atop the perfectly manicured grass beside the shrubbery. The estate surrounded you in grey brick with intricate designs and ivy growing on it, beautifully crafted glass windows scattered against it.

You approach the fountain, your smile dropping upon seeing the figure depicted atop it— a statue of Vincent was sitting proudly with a sword in hand, riding some sort of... toothy sea creature that spit water from its mouth down into the fountain.

"So tacky..." you murmur.

Vincent appears beside you suddenly, startling you. "You like it? I commissioned it from a friend, custom made," he say with an eyebrow wiggle, "I'm quite a patron of the arts".

"Sure you are," you say sarcastically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, straightening out his posture.

You scoff, "A true patron of the arts would commission something noble! Not this weird egotistical statue of you riding on some... beast!".

Vincent recoils as if you had insulted his entire bloodline, "Beast?! It's not a beast, it's a Great White Shark!".

"Well whatever it is, it's tacky," you remark while walking away to the entrance of the estate.

Vincent fumes and mutters curses under his breath as he follows you inside. As you walk in, servants and maids line in front of you, giving you a bow while welcoming you in.

"Welcome, your grace," a woman in a purple gown and yellow veil says, "I'm Freesia, your lady in waiting.".

You smile at her, "It's lovely to meet you.". Turning to the rest of the servants, you say, "It's lovely to meet you all.".

Off to the side, you notice Vincent had already left, likely to his study, not bothering with adjusting his new wife to the land. 'Typical,' you think to yourself.

"Freesia, would you mind showing me around here?" you ask, looking for some guidance in your duty and the sprawling home.

She nods and gestures toward her, "Why, of course, your grace. Come along.". You nod at the rest of the servants and they disperse while you follow. Catherine guides you into the many rooms of the estate— the kitchen, the bathrooms, Vincent's study, and then, your and Vincent's room.

"Your and the Duke's room is right here, your grace," she says, opening the door to a large bedroom.

You wince as the words leave her mouth, "Is it possible to have a separate room...?".

Her smile fades slightly before coming back with an obedient nod, "Yes, that can be arranged if you wish— Though I can not promise the Duke will be happy with it.".

"I'll deal with him," you reassure, "thank you for being so accommodating.".

Freesia then leads you outside to a separate courtyard in between parts of the house. A large pool of water with lily pads stretches along the room, various species of colorful fish swimming alongside it. "It's beautiful," you say while sitting beside the pool, dipping your hand in the cool water.

"The Duke was insistent on a water feature with live creatures in it," she chuckles, "it was a rather strange renovation, but when it was all done it was one of the rare times I've seen him smile.".

"Really?" you take your hand out of the water and shake it dry, "it's hard to imagine him actually smiling.".

"It used to not be so hard to come by," she says wistfully, gazing into the distance before returning back to you with a soft expression, "but thats a story for him to tell you. We must be going in now, it's getting late and I would hate for you to catch a cold.".

"Right...," you follow her inside and into your new room, a few doors down from Vox. Freesia helps you settle in and organize your things, assisting you in bathing and dressing you in a long red nightgown with a lace trim that reached your ankles.

"Thank you, Freesia, I should be off to bed now," you climb onto the bed and reach for the candle beside you.

"Yes, your grace," she bows and moves toward the door, "goodnight.".

𓆩:¨༺✧ ♛ ✧༻¨:𓆪

Vincent had retreated to his study as soon as he got back to the estate. He couldn't stand the false niceties between you and the help, it was nauseating. Besides, he had a lot to do after being out the whole day with the ceremony he could hardly call a proper wedding.

You forgot to say "i do" for God's sake! It was truly a shit show and, for a decision made out of convenience, this arrangement was proving to be entirely inconvenient for Vincent— Especially since you decided to disappear right before bed.

After working all day in his study, he decided to retire to his bedchambers only to find that you were missing. It was rather odd for a young duchess to be out of bed this late at night, but then again, you were a rather odd lady to Vincent in general.

He scoured the estate looking for you, through the courtyard, in every room, and even in the servants chambers. "Freesia!" He yells out, "where is y/n?".

Freesia comes out of her room at Vincent's cry rubbing her eyes sleepily, "She requested a separate room, your grace, she's a few doors down in the guest room fast asleep.".

Vincent glares at her, "You let her stay in a different room?".

"I did what my lady asked of me," she says innocently. Vincent groans and grabs a candle as he stomps up the dark opulent staircase to "your room". Storming into the bedroom, Vincent roughly grabs you up by your forearm out the bed.

"What are you doing?!" you ask startled awake. "You're not sleeping in a separate fucking room," he says, dragging you into his bedroom.

"Let me go!" you try to pry away from his grasp but it's fruitless against his strength.

Vincent tosses you on the bed carelessly, "Goodnight.".

You sit up and move your hair away from your face, "I don't want to sleep in here with you! I want to be alone! Give me one good reason why I should–"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE MY WIFE," he yells, "You WILL sleep in here whether you like it or not, got it?!". Your blood runs cold at his stern tone, frightening you further into the side of the bed.

Taking a deep breath, he runs his hands through his now disheveled black hair, "It's been a long day, so just stop being so difficult and go to sleep.". You wanted to argue, wanted to tell him how you would be difficult until the sun came up if it meant being able to have your own space, but you were in no position to argue.

Instead, you crawl into the blankets and turn away from him. With a sharp sigh, Vincent gets into bed opposite of you and blows out the candle, "Goodnight".

"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

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