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Chapter Text

Valentino alternated between digging through his closet and the sizable piles of sexy wear he had thrown onto his bed, onto the floor, and onto the couch serving as a cuck chair. They ranged from extremely skimpy underwear and thongs to relatively covering garments with only strategic areas exposed. The materials varied from delicate elaborately decorated lace, to leather of exotic hell beasts from other rings, to latex.

Vox didn’t even know one person could own this much fancy undergarments. Unfortunately, all those custom made, very expensive tight fitting clothes had one shared problem.

“Fuck! I don’t fit into any of them!”

“That’s a first.” Vox chucked, enjoying the show of Valentino trying and failing to squeeze his body into the lingerie he had chosen from the pile. It was a pretty one, most of them were, but it had been designed for his usual stick figure anatomy. Not for his current… condition.

He was wrestling it as if it was a live hostile creature, and not a piece of too tight fabric, threatening to tear under the pressure of his insistent pulling and twisting. He just barely managed to get the panties on and was now fighting the losing battle of getting the thin leather straps around his stomach. 

“I’ll have to ask Babydoll to fix it. But then it would sound like I’m getting fat.” Val snapped the thin black leather straps against the offending new layer of fat on his stomach, wincing at the uncomfortable reminder of how tender the stretched skin on his growing belly was.

“Stop that. You’ll give the baby brain damage.” Vox took Val’s upper hand, while the moth’s lower hand went to rub the sore area he had just assaulted with the strap. “Kid’s probably already fucked enough from all the alcohol you drink alone.”

Valentino huffed. “I don’t drink.”

Vox let go of his hand. “And that wine this morning was alcohol free?”

“Ew, no. No, the wine was good regular wine. But everyone knows beer and wine aren’t real alcohol.”

Vox rolled his eyes and continued watching as Valentino temporarily gave up on the straps and wrestled with the bra instead. The bra made for his wide but flat chest that had no chance of successfully containing his swelling breasts.

“Vox! Get off your ass and help me!”

Vox, dutifully got behind Valentino and clumsily fiddled with the tiny golden hooks, careful to not let his claws ruin the expensive delicate fabric.

“Here’s an idea, Val. How about you wear normal underwear for as long as you’re pregnant? You can get back to your lingerie collection as soon as you get the baby weight off. Might even be a good motivation to lose that weight faster.”

Valentino turned around his head to shoot at Vox a death glare usually only reserved for misbehaving employees.

“Here’s an idea, Vox. How about you shut your mouth before I shoot you and become a single mother.”

Vox, distracted, lost focus for just long enough to let one of his claws rip through the wing of the bra. He tried to cover for himself, quickly helping Valentino take it off, hoping he wouldn't notice the small hole.

“Alright, we can get Velvette to fix it. Now hurry up and put on normal underwear, so we don’t miss the stupid meeting.”

For now Vox’s plan worked and Valentino discarded both the bra too small for his growing boobs and the panties attached to the unfortunate currently unusable leather straps. He unclipped the stockings that came with the set from the panties and kept the stockings on.

“What if they see it?” 

Vox chucked warmly. “It’s the middle of winter and we’re meeting the Carmines at their warehouse. Why and how would you possibly need to strip to your underwear there?”

The TV presenter grabbed the outfit Kitty had prepared for him the day before. It looked the exact same as what he wore every day and that’s how he liked it. No wasting time on deciding what to wear, no Velvette pestering him to learn color theory and develop a real fashion sense. Why change perfection? Well, it wasn’t perfection according to Velvette or Valentino, but as long as they weren’t a pain in Vox’s ass about it, he didn’t really care.

“You never know, Papi. You never know.” 

Still not ready to settle for normal virgin peasant wear, but disillusioned with his hopes of fitting into any of his favourites, Valentino turned his attention to the pile of mid-sexyness-level underwear. If they hadn’t been living together for so long, Vox would have never guessed there were multiple tiers of sexy underwear.

“Oh, really?” Vox methodically buttoned his shirt, being more careful than usual not to repeat the accident with Valentino’s bra.

“This must be the first time you don’t want me to look hot.” 

“Right now, you look hot in whatever you put on.”

Vox tugged Valentino away from the pile, pulling him down by the fluff for a kiss. Hopefully feeling appreciated would make him stop fussing and hurry up. Vox’s hand instinctively moved to support the baby bump. 

Valentino’s smile widened into the kind of snarl-grin combination that Vox had long learned to recognise as the sign Valentino was getting an idea he would proudly cling onto no matter how dumb it was.

“Is there some kind of mothers solidarity discount?”

Vox’s dumb grin soon matched Valentino’s. “There better be. That’s why I’m bringing you along. Just don’t try to flirt with her daughters.”

“I would never! Vel has dibs on them.” Valentino raised a hand to his chest in indignation, and totally not to scratch his itchy nipple.

The mere memory of Velvette’s diplomatically catastrophic attempts at romancing her way into the Carmine family was enough to ruin Vox’s mood. “Don’t encourage her either. We don’t need to be any more fucked.”

“We’d be a lot more fashionably fucked if I was wearing that ligerie.”

Chapter Text

Vox choked on his morning coffee, spat it out, pulled the tiny petals out of the mug and called his intern to bring him a new coffee.

Vox was talking with Velvette and randomly pulled a yellow flower out of his mouth.

Vox took Valentino out to a restaurant and could barely swallow any food because the blossoms kept getting in the way. They burned his tongue. Valentino was looking at him weirdly.

The flowers were daffodils. White, yellow, and orange.

They used to be cherry blossoms, back when he was partnering with Alastor.

The unwanted vegetation started forming inside his body around the time he was trying to create a three way alliance between himself, Valentino and Alastor.

The cherry blossoms were much smaller and cuter than the daffodils he was currently putting up with, but they also fell apart more easily in his throat, threatening to suffocate him as more and more tiny detached petals clogged up his windpipe. He would be fine, he could breathe through his vents. Until the petals started appearing in his vents as well. He had no idea how they had gotten there. He didn’t care how they had gotten there. He just wanted to be rid of them.

Valentino found out without Vox having to directly tell him.

The kisses they shared brought flowers into his mouth. Usually just torn petals, sometimes entire flowerheads, on rare occasions bits of leaves and stems.

The first time Valentino spat out a flower covered in pink drool, a flower his long tongue had dug out of Vox’s throat, Vox thought it would all be over.

It wasn’t, but what he heard was possibly far more embarrassing than a simple breakup. 

Vox wasn’t the first person who had gotten Hanahaki for Valentino. There had been plenty of simps before him. Obsessive fans, devoted sluts addicted to Valentino’s body, and they all met the same fate.

Vox was however the first person who, instead of getting laughed at and left to die, got laughed at and later offered a ‘miracle cure’ oral. He was fairly sure it wasn’t Valentino’s tongue that fixed him, but he didn’t complain when a week later he found himself able to kiss his pimp business partner without filling either of their mouths with petals.

For a time, things for Vox were as good as they could get in Hell.

Soon later, the flowers were back. Different. The daffodils tasted different. The shape of the flower wasn’t what he was used to. The feeling was like choking on them for the first time all over again. This time no amount of affection from Valentino did anything to make the problem go away.

Flowers are so rare in the Pride Ring. Why, out of all the possible places, would they decide to grow inside of his not even entirely organic body? 

Vox’s mechanic noted on multiple occasions that while the flowers’ roots did some damage to his inorganic components, they never caused anything beyond small malfunctions. Nothing that couldn’t be easily repaired with regular maintenance. Vox pondered if getting rid of all the flesh in his chest and becoming a total replacement cyborg would be a possible solution to his problems.

He knew Velvette would call him a walking toaster. He knew Valentino would be disappointed. He knew Alastor would ignore him more than he already does. He feared Vark wouldn’t recognise his smell.

Valentino was upset and Vox could tell. Upset Vox didn’t think of him as good enough. If the flowers were back, did it mean Vox did not feel loved enough? Or did he fall in love with another demon? Was that why it was a different type of flower this time? Valentino was failing at keeping his sugar daddy secured. Either he had competition or Vox was impossible to please.

There wasn’t much outside of the flowers suggesting either option. Vox wasn’t stalking anyone else to the level he was stalking Valentino. Or at least never for longer than a few weeks.

After their last breakup they had done the unthinkable and gone back to courting the same way they had at the beginning of their hard to classify relationship. 

Valentino pulled out an intact flower out of Vox’s mouth while they were dancing. It was a magical romantic moment if they ignored the context of what that flower meant. Which they did, until they no longer could.

Valentino called the car after their date had been rudely interrupted by Vox running to the bathroom to extract an entire bouquet of daffodils out of his airways. It was a very nice bouquet, but he didn’t appreciate having it inside his airways.

It hurt to breathe through his mouth, so he almost exclusively breathed through his vents.

It hurt to know the yellow flowers were growing for Alastor.

Vox had been more or less happy with Alastor, but his desire for Valentino was suffocating.

Then he got what he wanted.

Vox was more or less happy with his current life with the Vees, but the memories of what he could have had with Alastor were burning his throat and blocking his windpipe.

It hurt to know he could never be satisfied.

Chapter Text

Valentino tightened the knot on the ropes holding Vox’s arms in place.

“Not used to it, Voxxy?”

The media demon tested how much wiggle room he had. Not much. He was currently laying on the bed chest-down while Valentino was securing the rope. If it was only about keeping his arms behind his back, Valentino would have been able to do it in seconds with his eyes closed. Vox was a special case. He had to also be stopped from electrocuting his partner, meaning his wrists had to be properly secured too. It wasn’t difficult for Valentino to do, but it took a little longer.

“You’re usually the one tied up when we do this.” Vox mused, waiting for Valentino to finish the restraining process

“I have plenty of experience on both ends.” Valentino licked his lips. “I do a lot of tying people up at work. You should be happy you’re doing this with a professional, papi.”

Vox tried to move his arms again and winced at the rope digging into his flesh. Seemed like he would be getting no wiggle room at all this time. “If this is how it looks with a professional, I’m not sure I want to ask how it looks with an amateur.”

“Sparky, you don’t want to know.”

Vox did know, from watching it over the hidden cameras in clubs and apartments, but he only knew how it looked, not how it felt.

Valentino leaned over Vox, his slowly growing stomach, the very reason why Valentino wouldn't be the one getting put on a leash or restrained with electric cables today, pressing against Vox’s ass and lower back.

“I swear you’ll be the one tied up as soon as you’re back to normal.” 

“As long as I’m back to what?” The weight retreated off Vox’s back, replaced by Valentino’s false but very much sharp golden claws digging into Vox’s skin at near the base of his spine.

Vox attempted to electrocute Valentino on instinct, but only succeeded in hurting himself. With his arms tied behind his back he had no way of reaching Valentino well enough to shock him. The bastard didn’t restrain his wrists in a way where using his powers would be impossible, but in a way he would only be able to electrocute himself.

“Aw, I love it when you’re pathetic.” Valentino cooed, watching Vox’s thrashing body. “But let’s try this again.” 

Satisfied with the effectiveness of the arm restraints, he effortlessly and carelessly flipped Vox onto his back.

“Now, when did you say you want to tie me up?” Valentino gestured for Vox to get up. Like a trained dog.

“When you’re… When it’s no longer putting the baby in danger.” Without being able to use his arms, Vox struggled to sit up on his knees. He knew the more embarrassing and awkward his movement looked, the more Valentino was enjoying the show. He regained his balance sitting on his knees and looked down to see if his legs had gotten tangled in the sheets, maybe that would explain why it was so hard to change position.

“I didn’t quite hear you.” Valentino scooted closer, sliding one hand under the bottom edge of Vox’s screen and forcing him to look up at him.

“When you’re finished graciously carrying the heir to my legacy.”

“That’s better.”

Valentino’s smile was a wide sadistic grin. He pushed Vox down to accommodate the extra mass on his stomach and prepared to enter Vox’s ass.

“Now, how about we make him a baby sister?“

Vox would be clenching at the sheets if his fists were free to do so, which they weren’t. Valentino talking about breeding him would be a lot sexier if they didn’t already have one brat on the way. “You really want to have to handle two ankle biters at once?”

Valentino rubbed against Vox, repeatedly almost entering but delaying the moment of real penetration. The movement that should have come to him naturally suddenly strangely unfamiliar with how much the pregnancy was affecting his body. It was as if his muscle memory had been reset. Maybe if he ignored it his instincts would work things out for him.

“Isn’t that what nannies are for?”

He leaned down, over Vox. Good thing he was so much taller and had four arms or he wouldn’t have been able to keep himself stable while exchanging tongues with Vox and while also avoiding putting too much pressure on the baby bump. “Now, be a good boy.”

Once Valentino pulled away from the long deep kiss for some air, Vox licked his lips. “This is a lot slower than what we usually do.”

He wasn’t complaining about being able to have sex without the risk of dismemberment, decapitation, blood poisoning, or temporary death, but this hesitation from Valentino of all demons felt worryingly uncharacteristic. Valentino was flip flopping between being hornier than ever from pheromones and sexually awkward because of the changes to his body and the way he felt about those changes. Vox was never given any warning as to when the shifts between those two extremes happened. There wasn’t a pattern to it that he could figure out.

“Don’t get used to it.” Valentino bit into Vox’s neck, reveling in how the media demon briefly tensed before going limp in the moth’s arms. While Valentino’s venom was a lot less effective on Vox, it would still work when injected directly into the bloodstream. “Your spawn is making me soft. If I’m too soft for you I can get the spiked vibrator.”

Vox wasn’t entirely sure if that was a real thing, but he vaguely remembered it to be and certainly didn’t want to find out how it would feel inside him. “How is that even getting sold? Wouldn’t the vibrations push the spikes into the user’s…”

“Plenty of sadist’s in hell. Plenty of masochists too. It’s part of the fun for them. Some cat demons have little spikes on their dicks, why wouldn’t there be a compact toy version?”

There truly was a fetish for anything and everything in Hell, wasn’t there? Yes, there was.

Chapter Text

“Daddy, daddy!”

“Not again…”

Vox had barely opened the door, but the reason he started taking birth control seriously was already rushing in his direction.

“Daddy’s home!” The pathetic little creature squeaked, greeting his father at the entrance to the penthouse. Vox hated that ear piercing whiny little squeak so much, he was starting to hate Valentino’s moth squeaks by association. And he used to love those.

To be clear, Vox adored attention. But after a certain point, it was too much.

If reporters pestering him all morning, a rabid fan pushing past security and launching at him, endless calls and emails from the souls he had managing the various Voxtek subsidiaries, and Velvette and Valentino complaining to him about every little inconvenience that dared to plague their existence weren’t enough, here came his own son to make his day worse.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Vax tugged insistently on Vox’s pant leg.

Vox tried to kick the little parasite away, but it kept running back at him and trying to hug his leg. Realising he had no other option but to satisfy the little monster, he picked up his child.

Vax wasn’t big or heavy and he had learned to stop squirming when being picked up to make the action safer and easier. While convenient, the compactness was a bit worrying. Aren’t young kids supposed to grow super fast? Was he stunted? Did they not feed him enough?

Vox bounced his son, pulling him up to get a good look at him. “Why are you still so tiny? Are you too stupid to grow?”

Vax only let out a poorly hidden stifled laughter. Vox realised why when Valentino snuck up on him and grabbed him from the behind. The traitorous child cheered.

“He takes after you, my little TV man.”

“I’m not small!”

“You’re small to me.” Valentino rested his chin on the top of Vox’s screen, tracing his finger over the screen’s edge.

“Everyone’s short compared to you.”

Vax’s tiny hands clung to one of Vox’s shoulderpads as the young boy pulled himself up to look over his father’s shoulder. “Will I look like mami?”

Vox stared at his idiotic offspring. While the talent for annoying him might have well been inherited directly from Valentino, the boy’s tablet head made it obvious which parent he resembled more. Something Vox was proud of at first when they had their son, but was now slowly growing ashamed of. This failure would forever look so much like him, he would have no deniability in being the father. “You’re delusional.”

Valentino patted his little boy on the tablet head and laughed. “Keep dreaming, little bug. Maybe you’ll grow into it.”

Vox looked down at his ugly embarrassment of a kid, then up at his extraordinarily (even for Hell’s standards) tall partner. “He’ll need one hell of a growth spurt to catch up. Seriously, I’m half convinced he’s stunted for his age.”

“He’s got time. Maybe he ages slowly because we’re immortal and he’s like us. Or maybe he ages like a bug and all the flashy parts of puberty happen at once. Hear that, baby, you could get a growth spurt and wings!”

Vax’s eyes went wide with wonder at the picture Valentino was painting in his mind. The tablet’s screen doubled in brightness. Little hands reached out in a grabby motion and the child’s shoulder blades moved in a pathetically adorable attempt at flapping wings that weren’t there.

Vox didn’t have the guts to ask if Vax’s wings would be as useless at flying as Valentino’s were. Knowing Vax’s tendency to disappoint his father, the answer was probably yes. A tiny Vax flapping useless wings would be adorable. A big Vax excitedly flapping useless wings with the coordination of a beached jellyfish was a recipe for disaster.

“I barely adjusted to having a kid. Now you want me to adjust to my kid being bigger than me?”

“You gotta have a little plasticity.” Even when the word was being used in an entirely non sexual context, the fact alone that it came out of Val’s mouth made it sound dirty. Valentino’s smile made Vox question if he was horny and only restraining himself for the sake of the kid or if Valentino was simply incapable of not sounding at least a little horny. The little hellspawn in Vox’s arms wasn’t picking up on the tension anyway.

“What’s plastitcisty?” Vax asked curiously, struggling immensely pronouncing of the new big word.

Vox dropped the child. Vax made a wet squishing sound, like a bath toy, when he hit the floor. 

“It means the ability to adapt or to be influenced by others. Like how I got influenced by your annoying little noises to pick you up instead of going straight to the bathroom like I was going to.”

Vax was still sitting on the floor, trying his absolute best to process his dad’s words when he realised his dad left him there and he had lost his opportunity to ask for an easier to understand explanation.

Valentino had made no move to catch his son or pick him up when Vox had dropped him.

But Valentino was still within sight, so that’s who Vax ran after. He was so proud of himself when he managed to catch up. He wished his parents could be proud of him too. And if he was tall and had long legs like his mami, he wouldn’t have to run to keep up with people.

Chapter Text

They say opposites attract. 

Vox never really believed in soulmates, but the small part of him that did was sure his soulmate would be his exact opposite. Maybe a certain red deer… No. On second red though, definitely not the vile antiquated deer. Vox never really believed in soulmates anyway.

Walking through the streets this time of year, it was easy to tell where the residents of a given neighbourhood originated just by decoration. The Hellborn decorated their spaces with heavy references to their rings of birth, and while some of the Earthborn celebrated their favourite sin with the Hellborn, many opted for the more familiar celebration of whichever winter holliday was the norm in their culture when they were alive. Most of VoxTek’s employees were Earthborn Sinners, and out of the Hellborn minority, most were either furry demons from Gluttony or aquatic demons from Envy.

It was quite the sight. It was also overstimulating. The constant multicolor flickering combined with the omnipresent cacophony of the same five holliday songs overlapping on repeat made Vox feel like he was on the verge of a seizure.

Valentino was also easily overstimulated by lights, but unlike Vox, he enjoyed it. His eyes would go wide, his brain would shut off, and he’d stare at the pretty colorful lights like a child staring at DisneyLand tickets. Not a thought behind those big red eyes.

With each passing year, they watched string lights gain popularity among hellborn. With each passing year, an increasing percentage of stores played holliday music, usually the same few songs on loop. As the holiday season became brighter, and the multicolor flashing more everpresent, so grew the contrast between the ways Vox and Valentino reacted to such overstimulation.

Vox would question how Valentino ever managed to even get close to overlord status if he could be so easily distracted with any bright colorful toy or display. Valentino would wonder how Vox managed to become one of the most powerful overlords if he could be so easily incapacitated with just a few flashing lights.

“It’s not just a few. They’re everywhere.”

“You’re around screens all the time.”

“That’s different. Those are screens I control. They’re like part of me.”

“This crap” He gestured to the mix of the purple, green, and blue lights decorating the balcony of some fish demon born in Envy, “is like electric glitter. I don’t control it because there's nothing to control. It does nothing but give me a headache. Most I can do is knock out the power to turn them off.”

“Why don’t you do that?” Velvette looked up from her sketchbook where she was in the process of figuring out which of the Sins would make the best Santa parody. Mammon felt like an easy choice, but he was also the one most likely one to sue for using his image without permission.

“Oh, let me strategically sabotage, on a city scale, just the plugs that have stupid lights attached to them!” If the sarchasm in Vox’s voice was too subtle to pick up on, the pent up electricity crackling through the air around him more than made up the difference, “I can’t risk a full blackout. If billboards or TVs stop working, we lose out on precious opportunities to shove as many commercials as possible down people’s throats while they’re in a late gift shopping craze!”

“Aha.” Velvette was too busy creating an anime version of Amodeus as a sexy Santa parody to pay attention to whatever Vox’s problem was now.

“You’re not listening.”

“Aha. Of course I am.” She kind of was. Now, should she make Fizzarolli a red nosed reindeer, an elf, or just leave him out? Elf. She’d make him an elf. Clowns and Christmas elfs already have some design overlap.

Vox ignored his audience’s clear disinterest and continued ranting. “And the fucking music!”

“Aren’t our stores the ones blasting that music?”

While far from the only culprits, the Vees and the numerous businesses they owned were indeed some of the most notorious offenders against the very concept of peace and quiet. 

“It’s to drive customers crazy.”

“So what’s the problem?” 

“It’s also driving me crazy!”

Valentino puffed smoke into Vox’s face, right on cue, to overstimulate him further. If the irregularly blinking lights outside and mix of muffled music from at least six different sources wasn’t enough to drive him to the brink of insanity, some pink fog on his screen should be able to finish the job.

“Val!?”

“Blast it louder.” The moth sounded both enamoured and sadistic. Enamoured with the seizure-inducing star-shaped disco light of a tree ornament he was currently holding inches away from his face.

“How loud?” 

“Loud enough to drown out Vox’s bitching.”

Whoever said opposites attract must have been an absolute idiot and a bastard. Possibly a sadist or a masochist. They were also correct.

Chapter Text

As far as Vox was concerned, it was a beautiful morning at the Vee Tower. He had gotten up at 5 am, pulled himself through three hours of his grindset and coffee fueled techbro routine and was now back in the penthouse to feed Vark and brag to the other two Vees about how much more productive than them he was in the mornings.

Velvette was still in her room. Valentino had just crawled out of his.

Valentino didn’t bother with hellos. He still looked groggy, possibly from last night when he finally agreed to let Vox hypnotise him.

“Baby, did I sign my soul to you?” He asked while throwing his hairbrush, small tufts of shed white fluff still caught in it, onto the closest surface. For a bald man, he owned a stupid amount of hair care products, mostly for his moth fluff.

“No… why would you ask?”

Valentino was going through the fridge, knocking out random items without care about the mess he was creating on the floor. “I vaguely remember doing it.”

Vox smiled innocently, his good mood only partially owed to Vark nuzzling against him.

“Oh. That would be you signing our marriage certificate.”

“What!?” Valentino jumped up, bumping his head on the top of the fridge.

“You said I could do whatever I wanted with you.” Vox laughed warmly, nursing his third coffee of the day, not even bothering to face Valentino.  After all, he could see him with his cameras all the time, and seeing snow in person in the Pride Ring was a rare opportunity.

Vark was clawing at the window, and Vox would need to check if whatever species Vark was could handle playing in snow without getting some kind of hypothermia.

Valentino aggressively shut the fridge door, nearly getting his antenna stuck in it. “I thought you were going to make me put on the Alastor cosplay with full make-up and call you Adam while you rail me. Not this!”

Vox turned around to actually face him, his signature spokesman smile briefly replaced with a grimace of confusion. “How would that be better than a wedding? Besides, I don’t need to hypnotise you to do that.”

They heard the door to Velvette’s room open and she soon came out wearing pajama shorts, fuzzy socks, and an oversized sweater. As far as Vox could tell, Valentino was completely naked under his wings, as he was most mornings. No wonder he always complained about feeling cold. That was another point in Vox’s favour in his private scorekeeping system for always staying ahead of both his partners and his competitors.

The tiny doll demon rubbed her eyes. “What’s happening here?”

“We got married!” Vox announced cheerfully, spreading his arms for emphasis. Valentino looked pissed and confused. Velvette didn’t look too phased.

“Oh, you’re still doing that roleplay from last night? Congrats.”

“Vel, that wasn’t a roleplay.”

“Can someone fucking explain what I missed!?” Valentino shouted, stomping towards Vox, not caring if he stepped on any of the goods he had accidentally knocked out of the fridge and onto the floor earlier.

Velvette still looked unphased. Just hungover. “A mediocre wedding roleplay.”

“It wasn’t a roleplay.” Vox pulled out the wedding certificate from his pocket, unfolded it, and held it out for the other two Vees to read.

Velvette took the piece of paper from Vox before Valentino could get even a quarter way through it. He was a very slow reader. “Oh, shit. I signed as your witness?” She stared at it, squinting, before staring off into space. “Oh yea, I did do that.”

“You don’t remember?”

“You know, Vox, it’s pretty suspicious no one but you remembers this wedding you say we had.” Valentino crossed his lower set of arms, leaving the top one to gesticulate wildly.

“You were mind controlled and Velvette was drunk.” Vox answered matter of factly, while Velvette sauntered back to the medicine cabinet.

“That can’t be a valid document!”

“At least half your contracts are signed while drunk.”

“Touchee.”

Valentino plopped his ass on the counter, dramatically, almost elegantly, raising his leg and confirming Vox’s suspicions that he was indeed completely naked. Velvette was lucky to be standing at an angle that spared her the view. Valentino leaned back further, hitching up his wings more, and grabbing the edge of the counter behind him for balance.

“Oh. What a shame to think, I was such a sexy bride and I won’t even get to remember it.”

 “Fine. I’ll propose again so we can have a proper ceremony. Better? Happy?” 

Vark certainly looked happy, but that was because Vox’s hand was scratching the back of his neck, not because of anything matrimony-related.

“I don’t know, Voxxy…”

Vox sighed. He slowly walked over to where Valentino was sitting, diving in to stick his head between his legs, hoisting the moth’s knees onto his shoulders. “I’ll propose in public. We’ll have a summer wedding. A big one. Proper decorations, tons of alcohol, tons of reporters. We’ll be the talk of all of Hell.”

“Much better.”

Velvette leaned over the counter.

“You know he’s gonna get so high at the reception he won’t remember shit anyway?”

“Let him have this.”

Chapter Text

Valentino had big beautiful wings. Those wings were currently pinned up and exposed. Vox liked them that way. He liked having Valentino like a butterfly in a glass display.

Vox’s claws run gently over the soft red surface. So delicate. So luxurious. With the membrane stretched as flat as it could be, the heart patterns were on full display, no longer distorted by the way Valentino’s wings folded and bent around his body.

Vox had done plenty of research and Valentino had plenty of experience so they knew where the wings could be punctured without causing serious damage to their structure. Vox had pushed little metal rods through those points. It was like a magical ritual. This was something only Vox was allowed to do to the moth overlord.

Once both of Valentino’s wings were restrained this way, he could not move his back without risking tearing his wings. It was humiliating. He had the strength to move. He technically could get up. But the strain that would put on the already stretched membranes would be guaranteed to damage them. And he would not ruin his pretty wings like that. They meant too much to him, even if they couldn’t fly anymore.

Why did he keep agreeing? Did he like being Vox’s lepidopteran specimen waiting for dissection?

Though this creative kind of restraint could be used for sexual activity, and quite a few times it was, Vox’s favourite thing to do when Valentino was pinned out on display for him was to touch every part of his wings that would normally be hard to reach. Those wings, serving as backdrop on the numerous pin up posters, inciting awe in those who got to see them in use while striking fear into anyone who had worked with Valentino long enough to know what they represent.

“It’s good for you to stretch them out. You keep them wrapped around yourself so tight.” Vox cooed, though both him and Valentino knew he was doing this more for his own enjoyment than for any kind of benefit to his partner.

For Val, having his wings nailed in place brought back memories. They weren’t good memories and they weren’t detailed memories, but he was sure he had been in this position before. Soon after landing in Hell. He didn’t remember much from that time. Maybe it was a good thing. He remembered the first time he was pinned down by the wings was a lot more confusing and humiliating than what Vox was doing now.

Vox’s claws kept exploring every square inch of the red membranes, tracing it, smoothing it over, pressing and gliding over the wings, dislocating tiny scales as they did. Until they reached the edges where they dug into the striped fluff.

Insect wings don’t have many nerve endings in them, so this wasn’t painful. It was only uncomfortable. The muscles and tendons holding the wings are just as capable of feeling pain as any other and they weren’t used to being forcibly held in a stretched position for such a long time. But that was just a little discomfort and Val would be a coward if he called off this bizarre little ritual he had with Vox purely because it upset a few muscles in his upper back. It would be humiliating to admit it. 

If anyone else did it to him, he’d do them worse. He was pretty sure, though he couldn’t remember the moment itself, that he had ripped to shreds the men who had pinned him up when he was new in hell. He wouldn’t tear up Vox. Even if the TV bastard’s patronizing tone and the merciless tugging at the edges of Val’s wings were beyond annoying.

Yes, the position was humiliating, but admitting to the circumstances it reminded him of would have been far more humiliating. After all, he was supposed to have put all that far behind himself. Forget the shitty first few years in his new demonic body. So he did. He never told Vox about those memories. Perhaps Vox remembered their first meeting better than Val did. Why should he care?

Chapter Text

“Addict trash like you never changes.” Valentino whispered menacingly into the phone, leaving yet another message in Angel Dust’s voicemail. It must have been the tenth or twelfth in a row at least. That damn slut wasn’t picking up his phone, as if he either forgot or didn’t care about the punishment that awaited him for ignoring the man he signed a deal with. He was probably too high to remember or to care.

Valentino tossed his twentieth cigarette of the day onto the ashtray. He didn’t know it was the twentieth. He didn’t count them and Kitty cleared out the ashtray regularly. It didn’t matter how many packs he went through in a day, he wasn’t the one restocking them. 

He smoked every day, sometimes even three packs a day. He wasn’t addicted. Valentino was better than the addict trash he employed. Smoking made his powers stronger, not his lungs weaker. That might have been the best part of his demon form. His addictions weren’t addictions anymore, they were power-ups. So, no, Valentino wasn’t addicted. He just liked the way the smoke made him feel. And when you’re on top, you get to indulge in what you enjoy as much as you like. 

Vox wasn’t staring, he was stalking. His main focus was now on the building of business that had opened right on the edge of his territory. If that cocky bastard who set up shop there was dumb enough to hope he wouldn't be noticed, he'd be in for an unpleasant surprise. Vox sent an order to one of his nerds to figure out what the guy's deal was. Not that Vox didn't enjoy dealing with wannabe competition and either ruining their lives, convincing them to join his 'corporate family' or both, but this was far from his first rodeo and doing the whole process himself could get quite time consuming and boring. So he had his nerds trained in inaccurate legal jargon handle the more tedious parts.

Strive for endless expansion was an addiction. But Vox wasn’t like those addict trash. He was better. He was more sophisticated. He wasn’t desperate, he was winning. Desperation is something only for losers.

“Vox? Do you remember what our wedding was like?”

“Are you asking me to relieve it, or because you don’t remember?”

Valentino didn’t take hard drugs often, but Vox and Velvette still looked at him like he was a dirty junkie when he did. Valentino was not a junkie. He drank a lot, but who in Hell didn’t? Going into a brief cocaine induced coma after the reception was a totally normal thing to do after his own wedding. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember much. It wasn’t his fault he overdosed a little. How was he supposed to remember cocaine should never be dissolved in any drink with a strong alcohol content. He was celebrating. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants on his big day.

Unlike addict trash, he didn’t need to budget out the money for his habits. He had enough money not to be concerned about his spending and he had someone to handle the hard math part of money management for him. He never forced himself to lower his standards out of desperation for another hit. 

He wasn’t like those addict trash. He didn’t need to change.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last that Valentino sprung on Vox some asinine idea. Vox considered programming an AI to detect what Valentino’s next confusing kink or DIY project would be. It couldn’t be that hard to make one based on his online activity, search history, and location tracking.

“Did you know you can do future readings in pollen?”

This wasn’t as bad as it could have been. And Valentino didn’t sound too emotionally invested in it yet, so there was still a chance of talking him out of it before it spiraled into one giant mess. It also sounded a lot less dangerous than some of the moth’s previous ideas and not that expensive either.

“Which pixie cult instagram page did you get this from?” Vox couldn’t allow himself to sound too positive about the idea, not to feed Valentino’s excitement too much. That man could turn even the most seemingly innocent idea into a massive shit show. 

“It’s real. And it’s from TikTok. It’s nature’s tarot cards.”

“Since when do you care about nature?”

“I did it once with Angel Dust!”

There it is. Of course it had something to do with Angel Dust. It was always something to do with Angel Dust.

“How does it even work?” Vox would regret asking this question very soon.

“Super simple! You inhale pollen and hallucinate the future.” Vox looked at him as if he had just proclaimed the world is flat, but Valentino wasn’t phased. “That’s not the only way! You can put it into a drink, snort it, you can rub it into your eye, and I never tried injecting myself with it, but I think that would work.”

Vox isn’t entirely sure how he let himself get dragged into this stupid idea, but here he was, on the couch, questioning his choices and staring at Valentino’s grin. The moth was shaking a small plastic container of white and yellow powder. Plant based demons who produced pollen instead of sexual fluids were rare, but not unheard of and if anyone in Pentagram could get their hands on that rare brand of “human pollen”, it would be Valentino.

They had agreed on how they would do this. 

Vox took off his shirt and leaned back on the couch, allowing access to his gill-like vents. Valentino blew a fistfull of the powder up towards them. When the pollen made its way into Vox’s vents, the man’s first instinct was to get them out. Dust was not meant to be there. Suspicious powders weren’t meant to be there. His internal fans were working overtime to compensate for the small but bothersome blockage. He could feel something inside of him getting clogged up. He slipped a finger inside one of the vents, trying to dig out the foreign substance, but Valentino took his wrist and pulled it away from his chest.

“No, you’ll ruin it. You gotta let it sit there.” 
Vox begrudgingly obliged. 

His head was spinning. He could feel the pollen itching him behind his eyeballs. In fact, if Val wasn't holding both his hands, he’d consider pushing a finger behind his eye just to scratch himself there. Possible loss of an eyeball be damned. It would grow back later anyway, right? Then he remembered he didn’t have real eyeballs. He had a flat screen, and a distinct feeling of an itchy eye socket. That was trippy.

The pimp put a finger inside the now mostly empty little bag, scooped up the remaining powder and proceeded to rub it into his eyes. Just watching what Val was doing made Vox’s eyes itch more. He could now see something like shadows but brighter moving  in his peripheral vision. His chest was starting to burn and his stomach went completely numb. He was pretty sure his hands and feet were shaking.

When the high passed, Vox wasn’t sure how much time had gone by. He still could feel his body shaking. His burning sensation in his chest was gone, but his vents still felt clogged. He’d have to clean them soon. 

He saw Valentino reaching out for a second bag of the same white and yellow ‘human pollen’.

Vox took one of the moth’s arms and tightened his grip on it until the claws were only one more miniscule squeeze away from puncturing the skin. “I need you to promise something to me."

“Yea…?” Valentino dropped the baggie on the coffee table.

“Make it an oath to me…” Vox took both of Valentino’s lower hands into his own.

“Yea?” Valentino tilted his head.

“That we’ll never do this again.”

Chapter Text

The soft warm lighting of Vox’s bedroom contrasted with the deep blue of the aquarium visible through the glass wall. The room was the embodiment of two things - the aesthetic of a futuristic bachelor condo and Vox’s love of sharks. One of the walls of the room was a giant window into the aquarium where Vox kept his prized cybernetically enhanced pet sharks. The bed, stylised to look like a floating platform, was covered with shark plushies of varying sizes and colors. The lamp on the desk was shaped like a shark with the light coming out of its wide open mouth.

Vox threw himself onto the bed, landing in the middle of his enormous pile of shark plushies. They were all so fuzzy, so soft, so deeply cherished. Most of them were also big and expensive. One was his undisputed favourite. That was the one Vox always gave the most attention to. While he loved all of his shark plushies, only one was capable of loving him back.

Vox kissed Valentino’s head, pulling away the hood of his warm shark onesie.

“Good evening, Tino. Do you remember what day it is today?”

Valentino didn’t answer. He never did nowadays. Vox didn’t expect him to. He could imagine what he would have said if he could. Val’s pout was enough for Vox to tell he was still alive. His sweet little noises were enough to tell Vox he was happy to see him, but had no idea what day it was.

“How’s my bedbug feeling tonight?”

Another kiss, another incoherent groan.

Vox fully pushed off the hood of the shark onesie and kissed the scar on Valentino’s head. The point where the holy spear had entered his skull, turning that part of his brain to mush.

Vox pulled Valentino closer, supporting his head, offering whatever physical comfort he could. Moments like this were precious. “That’s right, Val. Today marks one month since we got married. The end of our extended honeymoon. Did you enjoy it?”

Of course he didn’t enjoy it. They had planned a month long trip to a different city in the Pride Ring, they had planned a week long party. They had planned so much that they had to cancel.

All because Valentino went too far with Angel Dust while drunk at the reception. Vox knew they should have never invited that spider to the wedding. Vox’s wedding night was spent pulling Vaggie’s spear out of the groom’s head and waiting at the hospital for news on if his wreckless husband would survive. The whole honeymoon week was spent stabilizing a body that should not have survived and electrocuting people who joked that losing half his brain shouldn’t make a difference for Val since he wasn’t using it anyway. 

The rest of the honeymoon month was spent adjusting. Adjusting expectations. Adjusting soul contracts. Adjusting to a life without the Valentino Vox had grown so used to. Adjusting to having to take care of a husk of the man he married. Adjusting to the new situation.

“It’s been a whole month. Please, say something.”

Still no reaction beyond the squeaky little grunts. Vox wasn’t going to give up. Not today.

“Please, Val. Do it for me. Just a little favor.”

He unzipped and slowly started taking off the shark onesie Valentino was wearing, stopping about halfway down. Val didn’t need to be fully exposed and the shark tail looked too cute on him for Vox to dare remove it.

“I’m begging you.”

Vox shifted Valentino onto his lap and began gently scratching his neck, hoping to coax out some kind of reaction beyond the usual incoherent squeaks and groans.

“My pretty little baby butterfly.” The Valentino he knew hated being called that. Being yelled at would be preferable to Vox than this continued silence.

Vox’s hands moved down to the moth’s shoulders, slowly massaging them.

“Say something.”

Both the desperation and the demanding tone of Vox’s voice were increasing, but his touch remained just as loving and careful as it had been. He dug his claws into Valentino’s fluff, kneaded the stiff muscles of his neck and shoulders. Once his disappointingly unresponsive partner started noticeably relaxing at the touch, Vox moved down, massaging his upper back.

“Say you love me. Say you despise me. Say anything.”

Valentino groaned louder, almost articulating something, but not quite reaching the level of intelligibility. For Vox, that was enough to tug at his glimmer of hope and turn it into a full raging flame. He pulled his favourite shark plushie, the one with Valentino inside, into a sitting position.

“You’re getting close. Keep trying.”

He continued stroking Valentino’s back, tracing his spine with two cyan claws.

“Keep trying. I’m doing so much for you. I need you to put in some effort too.” He was rocking Valentino in his arms, a rather awkward position considering their size difference.

Vox felt something wet on his hand. Was Val trying to lick his hand? It was embarrassing how excited he had gotten at such a stupid possibility. No, it was just drool.

“Please. Val. Don’t-”

A few pixels glitched under Vox’s eyes. It happened sometimes if he was close to tears. He resumed slowly rubbing Valentino’s back, waiting for the inevitable next incoherent little noise.

“Just keep trying. You’ll get there.”

Chapter Text

Valentino was an expert on lust and Vox knew it.

Lust was the main driving force in most of his decisions. His business model relied on lust to operate. Endlessly fueled by his own lust and the lust of his clients. His recruitment relied on the lust of his victims and soon to be money makers (and on their desperation for money and protection too).

There were different types of lust.

There’s the more general, animalistic lust of a demon hungry for sex and willing to fuck, be fucked, or get off to anyone even vaguely attractive to them. That type of course was the easiest to exploit. It was the most driving force of all of Valentino’s ventures. Porn, strip clubs, prostitution, all fueled by this base type of sexual desire.

There’s the strange lust triggered by things most didn’t find particularly arousing at all. A specific category of kinks and fetishes. Whether they were worth catering to depended on how convenient they were and how many were interested in them.

There’s the lust easily mistaken for love, directed at a specific person. That one wasn’t as easy to exploit at a large scale, but very much possible. That’s why love potions sold so well and that’s why parasocial relationships were so powerful.

There’s the lust accompanied by a deeper emotional connection, what many would call real love. That type of lust could only be exploited on an individual level. It required maintenance like any relationship, it required intimacy beyond just the sexual kind. This type of lust was both stronger than the others when properly cultivated, and infuriating when it became inconvenient. Like when a demon at a club kept refusing Valentino’s advances because “Wouldn’t that be cheating on my girlfriend?”. As if he gave half a shit what someone’s girlfriend thought of him. She should feel honored Valentino agreed with her tastes.

Vox knew how to appreciate him.

Vox sometimes felt unlovable. He blamed it on Alastor. Valentino didn’t understand it. Sure, Vox wasn’t the most attractive man out there. Messing with his delicate self esteem was fun. But Vox was powerful and Vox had one of the hottest asses in hell on his lap right now. What moron would have all that and still cry over some deer not wanting to fuck him?  

This was where maintenance of that fourth type would be needed.

This was not the first time Valentino interrupted Vox’s work and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Why was he willing to continuously subject himself to this overgrown insect’s tantrums? Lust.

Lust wasn’t only the main driving force of Val’s business, it was also the main thing keeping him together with Vox.

This time he wasn’t interrupting Vox’s work to throw a tantrum, break expensive shit, and sit there pouting until Vox gave in to whatever demand came to his mind. This time it was about Vox. Vox had no right to feel unlovable while Valentino was his. Valentino only slept with tens and with Vox and the fact Vox was an exception only made him more special and more impressive. Over the many years of their partnership Valentino had learned exactly how to make Vox feel good. Good enough to make him forget all about Alastor, good enough to remind him he was on top of the world.

Fixing Vox with sex could never stick long term, but Valentino didn’t mind. If he needed reminders, extra maintenance, more cheer up sex, Val would give him that. What mattered was that it worked. Vox felt better, Vox was like himself again, and Vox spoiled Valentino as a reward for always being there to make him feel good. 

It was a mutual agreement, never documented on paper but well understood by both parties. Vox satisfied Val financially and cleaned up his messes, Valentino satisfied Vox sexually.

So they did it over and over again. A ritual. A pattern. A routine.

Vox knew Valentino wasn’t making him feel good out of selfless love, but he didn’t care. It felt good, it made him forget Alastor. It felt healing. This demon that all of the souls under the Vees’ contracts feared like a monster? Vox could make him kneel like a well trained puppy.

Vox was one of the very few people Valentino had bothered to learn how to satisfy. Everyone else was either happy with the standard treatment if they were lucky, or subjected to Valentino’s worst fantasies if they weren’t. Their enjoyment, their self esteem, their sense of fulfillment didn’t matter. Only important people got the privilege of having preferences.

And Valentino knew how important it was to remind Vox he was important. Even if it was sometimes with unorthodox methods.