#sub vox

https://archiveofourown.org/series/4685338

-MG

VOX WOULD CALL YOU MOMMY!!!!!! 𖦹°‧★

— genuinely incoherent rambling about Voxs mommy kink

YES. Vox’s mommy kink is very directly correlated to fragile masculinity, because it’s such an insane cop-out. Mothers and maternal figures are stereotypically connected to a few key concepts; nurture, care, authority. OH! Meaning Vox can feel cared for and praised by a voice of stability, while also having the fact he’s being doted on— therefore the attention is catered to him, meaning he’s still somewhat in control because your basically serving him— to use as a crutch? I’ve believed strongly in the Vox mommy kink propaganda since season 1.

Because anyone that desperate for approval, and equally emotionally erratic will absolutely crave a loving, figure of comfort in their life, even if the desire is shoved down.

And your idea about him having deep seated parental issues? Oh, you’re right and I know it. Yes, narcissists and sociopaths will naturally strive for control, especially when fueled by a manically inflated ego — HOWEVER. For Vox, it’s not the skin deep. His ideas of success and power, as well as his desire for seeking reassurance about himself in success and power, were absolutely bred into him. You can tell because of the intensity of it — something that cannot be blamed on his environment in hell because he’s simply been this desperate to prove himself since life. He’s overcompensating for something he never got as a child, probably due to either neglect or some form of emotional abuse. Neglect because of his intense need for attention, also an example of overcompensation, mm clock it. And emotional abuse because of his incompetence when it comes to regulating his own feelings adequately, probably stemming from a childhood where outbursts from parental figures were often observed and learned.

Holy fuck. What am I even saying. I’m right but what am I even saying ??

Hit me and Tell me ‘You’re Mine’𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Vox/reader, 900 words

a/n 𐙚 This was supposed to be a drabble… got carried away

warnings 𐙚 NSFW, dom gn reader, sub vox, takes place in voxs early years in hell, praise kink, NOT PROOFREAD

𐙚 summary Hell has been a big change for Vox, and so have you.

Vox has always carried a dominant persona. He’s not good; he knows that, in fact he doesn’t even care.

You can’t be good and have full power. Of course, he still found himself often wanted to be liked. Respected, naturally, but he loved when the masses admired him. The attention, praise, he craved it. He knew he was great, of course, but the validation was always received wonderfully. With you, two of these things are reversed, two of them are amplified.

Dominance is taken from him; you push him down on bed and he lets it happen. There’s fight of course, but a sinking curiosity of the kind of power you’d have over him. Hardly anyone can do that, what makes you different?

“Such a pretty boy,” He feels your breath on his neck and he sucks in air through his teeth.

It doesn’t help he’s new to hell. He hasn’t gotten laid in a few months due to his adjusting period, and besides that he’s simply… out of it. Despite being a cult leader, he didn’t even really believe in god — but now he’s suffering for his sins? He was thrown, and thoroughly off his game. It was almost comfort having someone like you around.

Which brings him to reversal number two: You cannot have power and be good. In some cases, this was false. You had full control over him but you were sweet, caring. He trusted you. You knew things and he didn’t— not in the current state, anyways. Sure that bothered him, but when he got something right, when he did something well… there was always that rewarding nod of approval.

“Are you gonna be a brat tonight?” You asked gently, unbuttoning his shirt with your graceful hands.

Vox was compelled to be a brat every night he was dominated. He didn’t particularly love lacking control, you were simply an exception due to circumstance. Being good off the bat felt like losing, which Vox hated more than anything.

But today was long. It’s hard climbing up the latter in the devils city. Sinners aren’t as gullible as his past disciples because they aren’t as innocent. He was so tired.

“No— I… actually won’t be.” He sighed, giving into you. Giving in to care. “I’ll be easy tonight. For your sake.”

And so the amplifying of his weaker attributes began.

“Aw, there’s my good boy,” you say sweetly, beginning to stroke him. “You’re such a sweetie, baby.”

He wasn’t but he liked hearing it. The praise, the validation, the attention. His eyes fluttered shut and he grunted. His followers used to praise him like a god, but this was different. He didn’t trust them; well, as much as you’d trust a child — because children don’t know any better. He trusted you. He gave himself to you, despite his convictions. Despite his persona.

30 minutes passed, and Vox was in tears.

You rode him vigorously, every hump being accompanied by a sweet compliment, or reassuring thought. “You’re doing so good for me, sweet boy.” you’d say, and you sounded like you meant it. “And after your long day? I am so proud of my baby.”

He whined loudly, static crowding out his vocal cords as wetness squeezed from his eyes. “Mmh— Ah— R-really?”

He cringed at how eagerly he chased your approval. Yes, tell me more. Comfort me, baby me. Pretend i’m only yours to keep. He was ashamed.

“Oh yes,” you said with enough care in your voice to make Vox sob. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. I know it can’t be easy to surrender yourself like this—“

You always understand, thats another thing—

Vox must’ve been getting too loud because you shushed him as if shushing a toddler, before extending a finger in his mouth. You continued, “This doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of being powerful. But I’m not everyone else, you don’t have to be strong in front of me. You look prettier like this, anyways.”

His body wracked with moans and electric shocks. Finally, the last aspect that was amplified; his reaction to praise. He was normally so collected, charismatic even. But with you he was stripped, and needy. Dependent. He wanted so badly to be your good boy he cries at the degradation that comes with his natural fight, as well as the relief that floods him when you allow him your approval.

“That’s right baby, it’s okay. You’re handling this so well. Come for me,” You coax his orgasm out of him woth one final hard thrust of your hips.

Vox has always carried a dominant persona. But that’s all it was; a persona.

♡ a/n I missed him so much.

♡ warnings NSFW, dom reader, sub vox, mommy kink, vox does in fact cry, fem reader, NOT PROOFREAD

summary ♡ Most of Vox’s desires were for power, and supreme control. Ironically, most sexual encounters with Vox gave him the opposite.

Vox was a contradiction.

From the moment he took his first breath— and then again, following his last one, every word out of his mouth has been a lie, a display of hypocrisy, or a desperate attempt to get something he wanted.

Strangely, the ways in which he contradicted himself are nonsensically straightforward. The lies he tells carry so much weight, simply just being from his word, he almost makes no attempt to cover up any holes in his propaganda.

He was honest in his lies. There’s the contradiction.

More on, even his goals and ambitions didn’t add up. Have complete control, with two equals by your side. Command respect, but welcome rivalry that results in humiliation. And of course…

“Are you gonna stop because such a brat, now? Or do I need to keep putting you in your place,” he grinned low and sinister, pinning your hands above your head as he dipped his cock inside you for the first time.

“Are you gonna stop stalling and fuck me?” You said, bored.

He frowned when you hardly reacted to the dirty talk. Vaguely, you thought about how rare of a result that must be for him. “Don’t think I don’t know how turned on you are right now. You love this attention don’t you?”

He purred low as he began to rut inside you. You rolled your eyes. “Oh, big time. Because I look like i’m enjoying it, right?”

His brows knotted, “Stop that.” He nearly barked it at you. “Can you just bite your tongue like a good slut?”

“Temper, temper,” You coo. “Anger is weakness. See; I’m not mad i’m having the worst sex in the world right now.”

He grunted, hands loosening their grasp on your wrists, “Shut the hell up! Stop being such a bitch, already—“

“I will when you stop fucking me like you’re a virgin— God, it’s pathetic, baby.” He groaned as you rutted into his cock softly.

He let go of your wrists in an attempt to catch your hips, but you were quicker. In one smooth maneuver, you flipped on top of him.

“No!” He groaned. “We are not doing this tonight— that isn’t fair, ah!”

Rolling your hips once again, you frowned. “All you’ve shown me tonight is that you can’t handle being in control.” He let out a dejected whimper.

“Ungh— you know, you’re the only bitch I have this problem with—“ He grunted through gritted teeth.

“So you admit you’re just not good enough?”

“No!” He cried, and his eyes began to swirl. Briefly, you get a moan build in the back of your throat before quickly glancing away.

“Ha— almost got you— OW, son of a bitch!” You lands a fierce punch on his upper lip. His screen cracks.

“Who’s the brat now, baby?” You ask. Before he can answer you speed up on his cock furiously, and he can only whine out insults bellow you.

“There he is,” you remark at his moaning, “That’s the weak, pathetic man I remember.”

“S-Shut up! Fuck you— This isn’t— This isn’t hot—“ He cut himself off with a moan. Go figure.

“Your leaky dick is saying otherwise,” you coo above him. “I’d start acting good if I was you. We both know how much you love praise.”

He whimpered, before growling “You don’t know shit, you fucking cunt—“

Your hand shoots to his throat, “I know all about you. You love being in control, don’t you? But why; is it because you like the attention, the worship, or is it just the approval that does it for you.”

Somewhere throughout the speech you used your free hand to pin his hands over his head, and humped his cock vigorously, so hard you knew it must be somewhat overstimulating.

His composure faltered significantly, and his eyes fluttered up at you. His lip cracked, stinging with electric blood, “Fuck— zzz— fuck off—“

Your squeezed his throat tighter, “Notice something; I’m still on your cock, I can feel you leaking inside me, and I have you fully pinned. If you really didn’t like this— fuck— you could overpower me. That’s the kicker. You only fight back for appearances. Because it’s ingrained in you. But you want me to call you my good boy so bad.”

He whimpered, broken underneath you, and he arched closer to you. “N—No— I— zzz”

His screen glitched out, and he squirmed in your grasp.

“Admit it. You just want mommy to baby you, don’t you?” You tease. “Want me to tell you how pretty you look, what a smart boy you are. How i’m proud of you for taking it so well.”

His eyes pricked with tears, and he let out a pathetic “Mm—mmm— zzz—“

“All it takes is a sorry, baby. Quit being a brat already.”

He bit his lip fiercely, and wiggled underneath you. His body was soaked with sweat and his screen glitched out every other second.

“‘m sorry! ‘m sorry— please— mommy, oh momma— I can’t” He cried with deep shame, rutting himself into you.

“Aw, that’s my good boy. Such a sweetheart,” your hand unclasped from his throat and he gasped. Instead, you soothingly pet his chest as he heaves.

And there’s the contradiction. Vox wanted power so bad, he wanted to win so bad. But why? Because he wanted love; maybe. More likely, he was a narcissist who wanted compliments and praise to fuel his ego.

But his need for control was so easy to utilize, like dangling a carrot over a rabbit. Take it away, and he is stripped, left with only the reasons he wanted it in the first place.

“Hush, my baby.” You coo, wiping his face dry with your thumb. “Mommy’s here.”

He whimpered.

One of the most powerful men in hell, under you, powerless, crying, and loving it.

HC that when being taken doggy style, he likes when your hands are placed on his gils. Practically meant to grip him there honestly.