Not your boyfriend, baby.

@daddymothxxx

[[ Indie Non-Canon Compliant Valentino from Hazbin Hotel ]]

3,345 posts

It's Valentino!

[ @daddymothxxx ]

[ READMORE/RULES ] [ ABOUT/PROFILE ]

Affiliates (Mains/non-exclusive): @voxtekcrown , @radioiaci , @burningfeathersx , @sugarswirlbitch

HIGHLY SELECTIVE; If I'm not following you back, then we're not likely to interact. You can talk to me about it. I have [Other Blogs] that are much less 'selective' if you'd like.

Non-canon Compliant HH/HB Valentino; 25 yrs. experience.

Non-Affiliated with Vivziepop; Non-supportive.

Open-Verse/Multi-verse; create in-verse compliant AUs or throw into as-is.

OC & Canon Friendly

Flexible Narrative Style; para/script/long/short/whatever

Mun & Muse of Age

Open to all types of character relationships, even negative ones.

NSFW; Violent/Dark Themes/Graphic Language/Sexual Themes (Not focused on smut.)

Religiously Sensitive Material(?)

not putting my whole pussy into it today lads. you're getting my left labia at best

#valen fucking tino

"But the more little girly things ya wear, the more you can slip his no-homo-radar." Valentino added as a final note. "The strappy semi-restraints are more like...when ya get past the bullshit in his brain about it." That was his own experience. Back at the start. Vox wasn't nearly as uptight on the matter as he used to be, but if it greased the wheels, right?

More lubrication, the better, also in his experience.

His brows went up as he remembered his listening skills again just in time for the admission given. "Fuckin'--okay, I know I'm over here blatherin', right, 'bout how to wear shit to appeal to fucking Vox. You just wanna feel bonita and good and whatever." His hands went up and out. Bottom set crossing. "Straps about the press or the texture or the outline? I like the...squeeze press."

Trying to get him into more productive goofy thinking. Dial down the sexually overt tone back to sensory comfort.

Obvious though he might have been about his whole... Vox attachment disorder, Alastor was still not in a place where he was comfortable with open acknowledgement of it. Especially not now, given what had occurred. He reserved the right to still be angry; disquieted by the events. And yet it hardly changed how he genuinely felt about the idiot television.

Regardless, he was thankful for the change of subject, shifting slightly before reaching out to gather up one of the pieces that he wore most often. It was a little dated now, perhaps - which was why he'd been looking for... other options. Finer things.

"...Similar, I think," he answered, glancing back up at the other. "Maybe something akin to a weighted blanket - except it has the benefit of looking... nice, I suppose." He couldn't say he'd given it a ton of thought. Never did, these things.

But, he rolled his eyes at a thought -

"And the risk of making me look like a Christmas reindeer with the wrong color scheme."

They were more on the same page about Vox than Alastor probably thought. Vox was in the doghouse even if Valentino wasn't throwing a fit all the time about it.

"Pfffthah! Ay! You'd be adorable!" He couldn't help the laugh that belted out of him. The cackle laugh was always a good sign.

"Com'on. There's a whole floor that's Vel's fuckin'...boudoir. For all of us. So she can yank it outta her spell slots or whatever to make them appear." He lifted a hand into a summons for Alastor to follow. "Know there's some bondage stuff in there. Knowin' her, she's got the kind that double as an outfit."

He knows where to go and has a confident sashay to match.

"Youse--" He started in a lazy mimic of Angel's accent on a good day.

"--are gunna do a pole gig I had to bow out of. It was for fun, for me, but I don' got time." He told him while he was taking them both into the shower area. Turning knobs and bringing things to life that way. "At 4 down at Baker for three hours. Real easy."

Relieved when he sat down on shower stool with Angel in lap. Already grabbing a fuzz friendly soap bar to start lathering while speaking. "Then you're gunna come back and make dinner. Something good I can take to kids. And have enough for me 'n' you after. Can ya handle that?"

He meant it about getting back on track before he started to viciously forget again.

Magenta eyes blinking in surprise as Valentino outlined probably as opposite of a shitty day at work as Angel could get. Wasn’t being facetious when he said it was ‘real easy’, of the things he could have picked, getting a gig he chose for himself was certainly a treat. And for the follow up to be making dinner? Maybe he’d make lasagna, kids liked lasagna didn’t they?

Struggling to fight down the grin infecting his features as the pimp asked if he could handle what was laid out for him, he tried to fake a pout. As if he wasn’t thoroughly pleased with the order.

“I suppose…if I gotta…” Moving to make the lathering easier, he helped with the bathing as much as his position allowed.

“If it was yer job in the first place, what’re ya doin instead?”

That's what he thought. Complainer.

"Some sorta televised bullshit." When Angel was sudsy, it was his own turn. (We're not toing to talk about how tiny he'd made his wings to shower without the bother. Tiiiiiny tiny. Bug sized. Practically hidden by neck fluff. It's adorable, don't tell him that.) The number of hands at play made it pretty quick and effortless.

Showerhead was pulled down to rinse them both and work on fluff and 'hair' on them both. The finer and longer stuff that wasn't short and fuzzy. Need maximum poof when all is said and done, after all.

"I'm more the face of the Vs right now. Given how outta line dick-antennas has gotten." Cranky and grumbling. They were 'working it out', but he was mad in the meantime. "It can be fun, but it's, like, fuckin' annoyin' too."

He liked being in front of cameras and all, but the frequency between his work and the new work load. "Got behind the cams for a reason."

"...You know I don't trust anyone."

Maybe that was some marginal exaggeration. He did trust - in some ways. In some scenarios. In some cases. With certain people. But that was getting to be too specific and he was not about to hash that out with Valentino while they were in the midst of speaking about lingerie.

At the very least, he did not think his relationship with Valentino had suffered. Or if it had, neither of them was alluding to it.

Head tilting at the mention of the straps on his more harness-style garb, he supposed he had no real argument for that one. Mm. Maybe if he could get himself drunk or sloppy enough. Right now, he was a bit too aware of himself. And doubly aware that Valentino was bringing up a 'he' without prompting.

He wanted to be agitated... but he was too interested in what Valentino was laying out.

"...Right." Making mental notes as he leaned to observe. But his own uncertainty was warring with his active mind. And he gave a small sigh.

"...I feel a bit of a fool for even bothering," he admitted in little more than a murmur.

"But the more little girly things ya wear, the more you can slip his no-homo-radar." Valentino added as a final note. "The strappy semi-restraints are more like...when ya get past the bullshit in his brain about it." That was his own experience. Back at the start. Vox wasn't nearly as uptight on the matter as he used to be, but if it greased the wheels, right?

More lubrication, the better, also in his experience.

His brows went up as he remembered his listening skills again just in time for the admission given. "Fuckin'--okay, I know I'm over here blatherin', right, 'bout how to wear shit to appeal to fucking Vox. You just wanna feel bonita and good and whatever." His hands went up and out. Bottom set crossing. "Straps about the press or the texture or the outline? I like the...squeeze press."

Trying to get him into more productive goofy thinking. Dial down the sexually overt tone back to sensory comfort.

Angel sighed into the kiss, sagging against the moth as he gathered him in a little too tight–the buzzing thrum of venom along his gums just enough to quiet the hangover. Half following when Val pulled back and pouting at the mention of work. Knew better than to be a complete brat about it though–that was an express ticket to pain.

Upper arms still draped over Valentino’s shoulders, lower arms crossed sourly against his stomach.

“What kinda project?” Came out slow and cautious. 'Project' could mean a lot of things. Could be collecting money for him. Could be spending the day on live cams. Could be starring in a found footage snuff film. All of which depended on the moth's mood.

"Youse--" He started in a lazy mimic of Angel's accent on a good day.

"--are gunna do a pole gig I had to bow out of. It was for fun, for me, but I don' got time." He told him while he was taking them both into the shower area. Turning knobs and bringing things to life that way. "At 4 down at Baker for three hours. Real easy."

Relieved when he sat down on shower stool with Angel in lap. Already grabbing a fuzz friendly soap bar to start lathering while speaking. "Then you're gunna come back and make dinner. Something good I can take to kids. And have enough for me 'n' you after. Can ya handle that?"

He meant it about getting back on track before he started to viciously forget again.

The countertop was cold, jarring against his groggy senses. Val didn’t scold him, manipulated his mouth open and brushed his teeth for him like he’s five years old. Not as gentle as his Mama had been once upon a time but she wasn’t here…had never been here–hoped that meant she’d gotten to Heaven and not…

A cup was pushed into lower hands and it was an easy enough instinct to rinse and spit–did it twice before Val’s voice drew him back. A little more awake now–enough for his head to be throbbing anyway–he offered a floaty smile. Stretching and not quite yawning before lower arms set the cup to the side and upper arms wound their way over the moth’s shoulders.

“Doesn’t count as overdoing it if we don’t stop~” Gentle fingers found his good antennae, intent only half there as he kissed his jaw and cuddled into him. Told himself it made him feel better and fuck if he didn’t want to believe it.

Well, a little venom probably would help take the general miserable edge off. The grab, gentle as it had been, still pulled a faint sqk before kiss was met. Better than cold turkey, he was sure.

He was selfish when it came to Angel. Get out of here. But stay forever. Complicated. Stay, stay, stay. Escape, escape, escape.

He sighed out a breath. Gathered the spider back up into arms, nearly too tight about it. "Daddy's got solo work today, you gotta get your shit together. I'm gunna make ya complete a project while I'm out." Busier while at the forefront of their brand.

"You are my favorite." Especially with Vox in the doghouse.

He snickered with some mothy squeaks and released Alastor to stand up (mostly) straight. Lower hands pulling smoke out of nowhere, the usual pink sort he tended to have, and mimed pulling the smoke taught to make a semblance of a smoke rope. "The art of tying people with silk rope. Has many uses. Not just the uses I know it for. Some ties are therapeutic to the body! Or improve posture." Well aware that if Alastor stood a chance of ever letting his guard down enough to make this exchange less beat-around-the-bush then he had to come in on the deer demon sideways.

Don't tell him that either. He'll get a complex. As it was, all he could do was give a snuff of acknowledgement for the statement, another few waves of the other with some dismissiveness. As if to say: hush.

But he did stand up straight when prompted, eyeing the other's display involving the smoke, and giving a few blinks of only moderate understanding. He'd not observed 'shibari' in this way - had never even heard of it. As such, he did not understand the appeal. Not unless demonstrated. And as usual, he was hesitant to chase that particular rabbit.

"That sounds like it would require quite a bit of trust to not have someone slit your throat in the midst of it," he replied, somewhat dully. Anyone who could get him bound like that surely would only do so for malicious reasons.

Using Vox as an aforementioned example. Even if he and the television were still on oddly attached terms after it all.

"Aw, you don't trust us?" Little bit of that advertisement lilt to the words. Teasing. He supposed it would take a good bit of trust for people that had something to lose. Like an Overlord.

Especially over their most recent squabbles. They were all in a fragile state of recovery. If he thought about it for more than a couple seconds at a time. However, only one way to rebuild! By trying!

"I wouldn't dream~" He said about cut throats. Singsong and not all that convincing. He legitimately wouldn't. Not without cause and in the proverbial back rooms. Vox, unfortunately, cared about Alastor too much. Last thing he wanted was to lose Vox. Cause and effect.

"Give it a chance some time." He added before moving along. "You certainly like the feeling of these straps. It's nearly the same." He picked at one with a hand. "Truth told, he likes sundresses the most. The kind you'd see in sitcoms in the forties." He told Alastor while shifting things around to be more in the shape they'd be on a person. Made visualizing easier for him. "But if ya take these bottoms, the lacey ones, and pair it with one of those sheers I was talkin' about like a loose fit cardigan type and wear it on the shoulders--he'd like that too. He's not real picky when it comes to you. He's gunna short circuit whatever ya wear that isn't your usual."

Valentino had earned more license than most, second only to Vox, really, when it came down to it. It did not mean that Alastor was fully prepared to be tossed into the sheets with him (at least not without some excessive convincing and perhaps some liquid courage), but it did mean that Val’s pets were met with only a few light twitches of the radio demon’s ears.

It did not feel terrible.

He might have been exploring to see if anything might eventually appeal to Vox- but he was too private about the hobby and interest for him to feel bold enough to admit it. So he would simply have to suffer.

The cheek pinch did earn a gentle swat at the offending hand as he listened, squinting up at Valentino and raising a brow when he was being handled.

“Shi- what?? You sound like you’re just making up words now.”

"You are my favorite." Especially with Vox in the doghouse.

He snickered with some mothy squeaks and released Alastor to stand up (mostly) straight. Lower hands pulling smoke out of nowhere, the usual pink sort he tended to have, and mimed pulling the smoke taught to make a semblance of a smoke rope. "The art of tying people with silk rope. Has many uses. Not just the uses I know it for. Some ties are therapeutic to the body! Or improve posture." Well aware that if Alastor stood a chance of ever letting his guard down enough to make this exchange less beat-around-the-bush then he had to come in on the deer demon sideways.

Don't call him a slut. God.

But he didn't put up any verbal argument, just stood there looking a bit awkward while Valentino assessed his assortment of lingerie, clearing his throat slightly.

"I do not think anyone to be interested in me wearing this except myself," he muttered. Perhaps a bit naively. But such was his perception, anyway. "The fabric simply feels... nice on my fur sometimes, I suppose."

Alastor did not have much of a better explanation for it.

"I wouldn't know where to start with sheers. I barely know the terminology for these."

Valentino is an awful creature at heart, if he had ANY cluse of that protest he'd make some crude joke about encouraging the deer to like it if he'd just let him get HANDSY some time. He's still made of Lust parts. Even if he wasn't an awful monstrosity about it anymore.

"For youuuu~" He was ENAMORED. So much of his communication was tactile so he was soon feeling up on deer ear and petting at head-hair. He hoped, by now, Alastor had visited the Tower enough to not freak out immediately about it. Though Val would except a hard elbowing if he had to.

He hummed in a high pitched and pleased way. Amazing. "This is about sensory enjoyment? Gasp, you're so--" He snuck in a cheek pinch. Then turned his attention back to the garments. Tapping at his chin. "Have you tried silk? You obliviously like leather~ WHAT ABOUT--" He turned to Alastor and took hold of his shoulder. "--SHIBARI?"

It's Valentino!

[ @daddymothxxx ]

Affiliates (Mains/non-exclusive): @voxtekcrown , @radioiaci , @burningfeathersx , @sugarswirlbitch

HIGHLY SELECTIVE; If I'm not following you back, then we're not likely to interact. You can talk to me about it. I have [Other Blogs] that are much less 'selective' if you'd like.

Non-canon Compliant HH/HB Valentino; 25 yrs. experience.

Non-Affiliated with Vivziepop; Non-supportive.

Open-Verse/Multi-verse; create in-verse compliant AUs or throw into as-is.

OC & Canon Friendly

Flexible Narrative Style; para/script/long/short/whatever

Mun & Muse of Age

Open to all types of character relationships, even negative ones.

NSFW; Violent/Dark Themes/Graphic Language/Sexual Themes (Not focused on smut.)

Religiously Sensitive Material(?)

#(( lmao goofed the reformat a few times sorry here you go

"Uh-hum." As he stepped over. Took like three steps with his legular wingspan. Reached around Alastor (and over) Alastor to daintily pinch a corner of the sheets and lift them. "What's the occasion?"

That was about what he assumed Valentino would do, and Alastor did not put up much of a fight, red in the face as he glanced away. He had at least a few different outfits - mostly things with harness and a bit of lace. Blacks and reds.

"...Do I need an occasion?"

Maybe he just wanted to look nice!!!!

"Well, if it's for you then it's about matchin' a vibe. If it's for someone else then you wanna match a different vibe." He said blithely. Putting sheet off to the side and looking over what was present. "Ho, ho, you like bein' a symmetrical slut."

Straps were always going to encourage pattern repeating. Same for lace. "Trade some of these laces for sheers. Or layer it with sheers. Wanna make the eye think it knows what it's lookin' at without givin' 'em the whole view at once!"

His antenna is tingling.

"...I wasn't doing anything."

While pulling sheets over the outfits he had laid out. Ahem.

"Uh-hum." As he stepped over. Took like three steps with his legular wingspan. Reached around Alastor (and over) Alastor to daintily pinch a corner of the sheets and lift them. "What's the occasion?"

"...My lingerie options are outdated. I need more."

Muttering to himself while he sifts through what he has. Grump grump.

His antenna is tingling.

It’s the knobby press of a shoulder into his diaphragm that wakes him up the second time. Passed out on the bathroom floor, it wasn’t so bad until suddenly he’s moved outside his own volition. Then it’s gravity and movement working against him as Val attempts to deal with him–they’re both hungover, it didn’t have to make sense. Eventually the moth moved him lower, that shoulder moving more into his chest instead of under his ribs but the damage has been done.

Six hands grasping and pushing, he tried to get away as his body screamed warning signs–hot and cold and hot and cold. The least he could do was warn the pimp, right? If he didn’t fancy repercussions later, that is.

“Daddy, ‘m gonna puke–!” Said it just in time to twist in his grasp and lurch half out of the moth’s arms to dry heave into the sink again. More a reaction to the shoulder in his already weak stomach than it was a genuine physiological need to expel something. He’d done that earlier.

Only once his diaphragm was contented did he sink back against Val.

“...sorry…”

Val didn't pause his brushing. But he did turn on the water once the barfing was done. Spitting into the same sink after a rinse and gargle with fresh water. He wasn't easy to gross out.

Shifted Angel to sit on the sink edge and got hold of his face and head. Got his mouth open and brushed his teeth too. Wordless and not giving a damn, really. Clean the mouth! The mouths. Plural.

It'd make them both feel better. So was the thought. Took up a cup from the sink and filled it with water for Angel to take and do rinse and spit when he was done.

Not yet cranky or embittered. Bit of the caring steak having a run with him. He needed to get 'back on track'. Before he slipped all the way back down to that the most awful of himself.

Too many kids he cared about came around to let that happen.

"Over did it, huh? Me 'n' you." A mumble to keep Angel talking and hopefully at least partially awake.

[Val's head gave a tip. Was this one sick? Hm.

Wait--HE HAD A WRINKLE IN HIS BRAIN--A hand went up and touched at his own fuzz lightly. Whoops! The dust was pretty harmless on its own... Good for making friends~]

Guapo! [Repeated like it was obvious, another hand doing a rolling 'you know' motion before he clicked the word over into English in his mind.] Handsome!

[He took up the hand offered in one of his own lower ones, but he did it DAINTY style. Because he was just so pretty and dainty! Obviously. Many things were 'obvious' to Valentino. He grasped only fingers (not due to size) and lightly squeezed.]

Valentino! [With extra husk and a churring quality. It's a great name! Made it himself!]

sodoffyabuggers

[Worth didn't know a goddamn thing about this huge fuzzy fucker, but the antenna had him instantly endeared, and then the dust had made taking in Valentino's colorful, slender form EVEN MORE of a fucking delight.]

Handsome? Yeh, exactly! Yer a tall drink of whiskey, that's for sure! But if I wanted to put a word to ya I'd say maybe...

FABULOUS!

I like bugs! All kinds, includin' moths, an' yer whole THING ya got goin' on 'ere? Choice. [Val might have had a friend even before the dust, deserved or not.]

Oh hey, are you--[Leans in and actually goes up on his tippy toes to cup his mouth with one hand.] Are you really a pimp? Issat like-- just a costume? 'Cuz MINE is! Basically.

[Does a little twirl to show off his own fuzzy fur on his collar and cuffs, sewn right into the lab coat. Valentino might not have been able to take in the details too well, but hopefully the ~~vibes~~ stood out.]

Betcha can't guess wut my real job is! Go on, guess.

It's not lion tamer at th' circus, I'll tell ya that.

I'm a pimp and a star! Former...star. [Complicated. He still debuted in some of his own works, but much more rare. He wasn't on the menu, either. Mostly he controlled the tricks and the bouncers and the filming these days. He was the Man In Charge of his life anymore.]

Well, ya look like on of Vox's little nerdy guys. [The ran around in white coats all the time. Sans the fluff collar. He reached out and manhandled 'doctor' a bit to get a better 'look' through touch. Ruffling around in hair and pulling at clothing. Pushing, prodding, squinting.]

You ah...uh...LARPer? Back alley potions master? [Fuck he knows, listen. He was participating in this mostly because he'd been complimented enough to bother.]

Starter for @daddymothxxx

Angel woke up first, late afternoon light filtering through blackout curtains far too bright against the lingering hangover behind his eyes. Unpleasant enough, he chittered as he rolled over–face burying into the body beside him less for closeness and more for an escape before he settled again.

Breathe in, then out, but the hangover is still there. Pressure throbbing in his skull until his stomach flipped unpleasantly. Now he’s awake. Blindingly sober on adrenaline as he bolted from the bed, tripping over abandoned clothes and slamming his shoulder painfully into the corner of the dresser. It’ll bruise but he didn’t have time to register it before he scrambled the rest of the way to the bathroom sink in time to vomit.

It isn’t food that comes up–not really–alcohol, cum, stomach acid, venom. If there’s food in there somewhere, it's a sickening background noise to the mess that splattered into the porcelain bowl. Another heave, another mess, it takes a few more before he’s done. Before he’s rinsing his mouth out and sinking tiredly against the cabinets to be found later.

Waking up wasn't to noise in the bathroom. It was a random thing some hour later. Many of his fully lucid moments were when he woke up. The ones that knew he was having a relapse of a sort. A backslide. Since Vox's little mega-cunt-stunt. One of those chest-feels he got sometimes had turned sour on him and he was taking it out on others--again. Different reasons, same results.

He sat up groggy around all that clarity of introspection. Took a few moments to scritch four hands around and threw his short all over fuzz. Waking up. Felt that hunger that was a body fighting off poison intoxication. Sickly-hungry.

He got up to go to the bathroom for pissing reasons only to find Angel on the floor. Oh, right, mph. Right place, wrong spot. Heh. Kept a grimace to himself as he bent over and down, spine cracking in a few places, to inspect the state of Angel. Touching and looking with his bad as fuck eyes.

Not in a false-death. Good. He scooped angel up and passed him up to upper hands to tuck right over shoulder as he straightened back up. Carrying himself along to the toilet. He still had two other hands to piss with! And whether he pissed or not wouldn't change Angel's state. He was pragmatic like that sometimes.

Back to the sink to wash hands and face and--hell, brushing he teeth.

At least upper hands were keeping good hold on the spider on his shoulder. Did shift the body down a bit. More chest on shoulder and arms banded under back of legs like a bench. More a sitting situation than shoulder grinding into stomach and pelvis the whole time while blood pooled in the head.

He'd get around to dealing with Angel's state. Just not this second. Or minute. Might be a few.

He did the same thing with Vox peeled out of office chairs and what not.

Not your boyfriend, baby. @daddymothxxx - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag