#got possesed at midnight. wrote this. posted on ao3. passed out... bon Appétit

[minzart]

A quick fix me up

Vox / reader

Unresolved sexual tension - ehhh +16 maybe? It's not really that explicit I think? - the eroticism of fixing a robot

Ao3

It had a been a fucking month, and the tech overlord could still feel the collateral damage of his - very purposeful, not at all accidental - melt down, tantrum, accident caused by that prick of an ultrapassed piece of junk still affecting his processing and it was getting on his nerves that he might feel the need to reboot for the second time this day before he has to peel more faux skin off his body.

And to top it all of, Val had to just still be obsessing over his fucking whore of a spider, noooo because the sixteen hour long shots had to be done today, he can't fucking relax or try to take his mind of the double work he has to do now that Alastor is back and viewership is decaying gradually, it's not like the pimp is the fucking director and can't just take half an hour to a quicky and be done with it.

Fucks sake when Valentino wants to fuck it's not a matter of yes, not even when, it's a now and be damned his screen if he denies the petty princess anything, but when he wants to fuck, and Angel Dust is at the vicinity, it has to have star alignment to convince the moth demon to even take his eyes of his fucking bitch for even two seconds.

He can feel another glitch happening at his screen, left eyes of all places, making his vision spin and change colors. He is tired, he is bothered, he is furious, he is stressed and he is still glitching. With a sigh of defeat Vox finally decides to call the person who can, at the very least, fix one of his many problems, his personal doctor, or should he call you his trusted mechanic, he settles for old -friend- acquaintance.

The logo of your business bounces in the closest screen, he misses when it was your face, not that he will ever let you know that, it's late and yet your voice, groggy and annoyed answered his call anyways.

“it's three in the fucking morning Vox what the fuck do you want” it's only your voice, no matter how many times he tried to force the video calls you never let your camera work properly, a quirky “fuck you” to him you had said once.

“gOOdNiiiGggth to yOu tOOo” he tries his best to say you name energetically, but the stupid glitch won't let his usual charisma take roots, at the end he sighs and groans.

“...... what the fuck did you do to your voice box this time, if I have to get cum out of it again I swea-” the sounds of sheets moving informs him that you were in fact probably sleeping, joy, he was the only one with trouble sleeping then.

“JUsrt gggEt yoR aSS hERe” he disconnects the call from your end.

“alright fine, fine I'm going” you talk to air, and he stills hears you because it's better than to give his attention to whatever is happening upstairs right now, not in the patience for it “I know you can still hear me you control freak, get your ass moving to the closest sofa before I have to drag your corpse from your fucking evil lair”

He chuckles, it would be funny if he wasn't actually hearing you, and it did happened before, your pissed face was priceless at the time, his body is ten times more difficult to command but he manages to enter in the elevator and out to the suit, Velvette is at her side of the tower getting her beauty sleep and Val “working”, leaving him with the space for himself and finally tranquility.

The television tunes to the nearest camera at your house, and he let's his mind wanders waiting for you to arrive. You were locking your door of the apartment when he sees a foot inside your house stopping it from closing, he changes the camera in annoyance who the fuck was there? Last time he checked you didn't have a new roommate since him, and it was fucking eons ago, and no fucking camera at that building is good enough to look inside your house, shit.

You two were talking, your hand goes up gently, your face disappear from frame, oh it's a whore, because of fucking course it is, but then you smile and walks away, leaving whoever the fuck was that inside, that couldn't be a partner could it? No, no way, you wouldn't, but who let's a fucking whore alone in your house in hell, no, scratch that, you, specifically, never fucking even let whores in since he remembers knowing you in this damned place, too paranoid for it, so who the fuck was that.

The overlord can feel heat building in his chest, twisting his insides and acid in his mouth. It was not a good day, nor a good week, nor a good month, he wouldn't call himself an easy jealous man, absolutely never, why would he even get jealous??? He's powerful, he's famous, he's rich, fuck he is ten time the man he was dead than alive. And still… and still he never is the first priority of nobody he could even call the closest thing hell can offer as friends.

Not for Val who would offer amazing sex but God if it didn't get tiring the temper tantrums, not to mention the several PR nightmares he has to cover; not for Vel who still has the best head on her shoulder of the three of them, but was God awful at listening to anything but her voice; not to his audience slowly slipping out of his grasp; not for his stars who only suck him up for a rise; not even for his fucking rival who hasn't even tried to rile him up since he came fucking back; and definitively not for you who was at the door of the company at three in the morning leaving whoever a sweetheart that stranger might be alone just because he called with a glitch voice...

He slowly gets his hand away from his face, grip so tight he could feel the holes it left dripping blue down his sides, vision black and white, and opens the automatic door for you with a snap of fingers. The lights are off and the second the security comes to you, you flash your ID card of the company, and go to the elevator without exchanging a word with the demon. It closes the second you are in and automatically sets your destination to the low levels of the V tower.

He hears the ping of the elevator opening and your footsteps getting closer, the TV now off. “alright let me see the damage”

You lift his head gently, peel the layers of clothes mechanically, and move the coffee table closer, your expression is of professionalism, neutral, and bags in your eyes”can you talk?”

“wwWhaAT dOdo-youu ThinnnK?” he answers and mentally grabs at the relief fraction of expression you show.

“ok, wires not completely busted” you unscrew his face and get to work, always precise, always gentle, you have always been gentle, he remembers meeting you, countless of years ago, a demon specializing in upgrading sinners with mechanical bodies, he remembers his rising days with a touch of bitterness, determination and a little bit of fondness, you were the first he ever trusted to ever exchange his screen when it broke when he still was scared of a second death.

He can hear you walking around, probably looking for the spare parts he has, and comes back as quickly. It's nice, he feels nice, relaxed, strange how a semblance of care can melt away his nerves is a good way. You are not even thinking about your motions, he can tell, and yet Vox let's himself bask in this fraction of attention a little, a lot, every little touch every little check he feels he commits to memory and replays over and over again.

From his face to his back and now he can feel your hands inside him adjusting wires and peeling melted wax that is where it shouldn't be because “your last black out made your cooling system kiss your ass goodbye so I'm gonna replace this too and you are gonna have to get new fake skin” and he couldn't be happier right now since it makes you stay a little while longer.

It's weird, he fucking knows that, he knows, he knows how weird it is feeling you be so fucking gentle and profession and getting off to it, and fuck if having you right there behind him didn't gave him an adrenalin burst, would you notice? Have you noticed how he can feel his insides hum in pleasure every time you fix him inside? You must, come on, it's so very obvious he's hotter than normal, it's not even funny.

And his mind just runs in it too, colors coming back to his vision, and his mind isn't even close to reality, his pants are tight and he wants to just grind so fucking bad to get some friction going down there, he feels one of your hands pin him in place, firmily sat, and he wishes it was to pin him down and- fuck, he feels electricity run around his whole body, you flinch breaking all contact and he has to bless his luck that he doesn't have a working voice box right now because he feels he just whimpered at the lost of contact “You good bud?”

He shudders and nods frantically, a little bit of panic building in his gut, fuck he can feel his pants are not dry, goddammit “lay down” you want to kill him, you definitively want to kill him, he will play that command on loop next time he gets this fucking needy.

He does as you ask, and has half a mind to not just plant his face between the pillows, he has to play it cool, he has to, his ego won't let him otherwise, the sofa shifts you are sitting besides his back and keep working, a new voice box being placed and carefully connected, he wishes you would have opted to just sit on him instead, the weight might have helped his too energetic body to calm the fuck down, it had in the past. He grips his forearms to try and focus on anything else but the new feeling of your fingers closing his back and making sure it's closed properly, he already is playing with fire just for having that erection again and now he has a voice and he doesn't trust it to say any more words.

“want to talk about what got you so stressed at three in the morning?” he can hear you yawning, sliding down the sofa, and as he turns to see where you're going, he meets you at eye level, you are sitting at the ground, arms crossed besides his head as a makeshift pillow for your own and attention fully, undoubtedly, on him only.

He can feel his eyes widen, and antennas snap up as a little wave of electricity pass between then, he has three seconds of blue screen before he is back with a smirk in his smug face “why absolutely nothing, i just needed a little fixing it's all and day time it's such a busy time you know, couldn't schedule it for later”

“hmhu” you deadpan his sales persona “alright, mr shivering-at-the-mere-contact-of-skin keep telling yourself that”

“whatever do you mean” he can feel his screen heating, fuck, you sigh and gets up, he stupidly follows your action rising himself too quickly and almost tumbling down the sofa “hey now what's the rush-”

“it's five in the morning” you are already at the door “and i got clients to attend”

“five- fuck” boner be damned he has news to deliver at six “why didn't you told me when it was four!”

“I was too busy rearranging your guts” he can hear the smirk in your voice and now he wants to punch your mouth with his.”have a good day Vox”

And just like that you are gone… he keeps dressing back up, tying his bow tie, getting coffee and checking his phone, life goes on normally, and he is back at 110% in no time. The only thing bothering him is how he will keep telling himself he is alright, nothing to look into, no sir, he doesn't have the worst case of communication allergies known to man that is costing his sanity, absolutely not, he is in control, always, he has to be.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hh #got possesed at midnight. wrote this. posted on ao3. passed out... bon Appétit #hazbin headcanons #i don't care what canon says this bitch is a robot #robotfucker