Work Text:
Vox sat at his desk, trying to focus on his work. It’s been a struggle since he woke up. He’s had a killer headache and he feels inexplicably tired despite having gotten a full 6 hours of sleep, which is more than he usually gets.
He lets out a sigh and stretches his body out, especially his right leg which has been feeling especially tight and sore.
God, and his stomach fucking hurt. Did he eat something to upset it or-
Wait. No no no.
Vox zapped himself to the bathroom, it couldn’t already be here right? Has it already been a month?
He pulled down his underwear and- yep, okay, blood. Awesome, now he has to change. He just started so he probably has a few more minutes before this becomes unbearable and he wants to shoot himself? Fuck, he has a meeting in ten.
Vox opens the cabinet and looks at the pain killers sitting inside. A real man would just tough it out and he’s a real motherfucking man. He doesn’t need them. He shuts the cabinet and goes back to his desk, ignoring the way his insides twist like someone’s inside his guts, rearranging them in a never satisfied frenzy.
~~~
Vox collapsed onto his couch as soon as the meeting was over and curled into a ball. He can barely even recall what was discussed, he signed something though. God, if that was bad for his business he might just have to end it all.
He felt like fucking death. It was like someone was trying to carve out of his insides with a butter knife as slow as humanly possible. And his leg on top of it all felt like it’s tied up and suffocating and nothing he did gave it any relief. He wanted to rip it all off. Just tear his body into pieces that didn’t have to feel a thing. But that wouldn’t work. He knows because he tried.
Hell is, well, Hell. Meant to make you suffer in ways that are tailored to the individual. And part of that for Vox is having to deal with his period, no matter what he does. He created his body, personalized it to be exactly to his tastes, and that included not having a pussy let alone a fucking womb. Yet, every month without fail, despite not having the parts for it, his weird ass demon biology finds a way to make him go through this.
He’s thought about trying to find out if this happens to anyone else. He hasn’t seen anyone having issues, but they could just be good at hiding it. And he could ask but he’s not exactly… out. His image would be ruined if it came out that he was trans. Believe it or not Hell is full of transphobia and homophobia. He’s not about to ruin the people’s perception of him as a cis white man. It works well for him and keeps the people trusting in him. He’s towing a fine line with his partnership with Valentino already. Coming out as trans would be disastrous.
So he’ll just silently deal. And it’ll be over. And then it’ll happen again. And again. And again and again and again. Again and again until he meets his end by angelic blade. Again and again until Heaven decides to wipe all of Pride off the map.