teaganthemorningstar

[teaganthemorningstar]

It Feels Like Home

After the longest fucking day Husk can remember–and he’s had a lot of long days–the last thing he wants to do is serve lukewarm whiskey to a morose Angel Dust. He’s warmed up to the kid, might even admit to liking him, but can't keep it together tonight. His throat still burns with the weight of Alastor’s chain, Charlie ran them all ragged on her adventures, and the cheap shitty booze just isn’t cutting it anymore. He's exhausted. All Husk wants is a good night’s sleep, however unrealistic the prospect.

When Angel knocks at his door with a familiar light rap, Husk groans, “Just serve yourself, it’s not like the bar’s fucking locked.”

Silence.

“You’re still there, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” A beat. “Got something for you.”

Knowing Angel, he could have some top-shelf shit swiped from Valentino as easily as a new flirtation he wants to test drive before his next workday. Husk scrubs a paw down his face as he considers it. Tired or not, he knows Angel wouldn't come all the way up here unless it was important to him, and Husk has a soft spot he'd rather not examine when it comes to that toothy grin and squeaky voice. Anyone else he'd have turned away already and they both know it. With a resigned sigh, Husk gets out of bed to open the door.

“Hiya,” Angel says, lower arms wrapped around his stomach for comfort as he wiggles his upper left hand's fingers in a wave. He looks rough himself despite missing out on the chaos at the hotel; the bags around his eyes are too dark for Husk to be certain they're not bruises, and his salacious doorway lean lends more weight to the wall than usual. “Gonna invite me in?”

“You look like shit,” Husk says.

“Thanks, doll, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

He still moves out of the way for Angel to come in and shuts the door behind him. By the time he turns around, Angel has made himself comfortable on the edge of Husk's duvet, poised back on two hands with a sleek wooden box in his lap. Its pristine, glossy grain and the lack of a gaudy logo mean its contents, whatever they may be, are too expensive for whatever this delicate thing between Husk and Angel is.

“So?” Husk asks, mostly because Angel is staring at him and he won't take the initiative when Angel's the one who showed up at his door uninvited. “What do you have?”

“A present.”

Angel holds out the box like an offering, barely balanced from the tip of his slender fingers.

“Sorry it doesn't have a bow, I uh, didn't have the time, I mean, I tried to but the store-”

Husk takes the gift from him. “I'm not a bow guy, anyway.”

He turns the box over in his hands, looking for an indication of what it might be and finding nothing but smooth wood. With hope it's nothing crazy, he slides the lid open on well-oiled tracks to reveal a gaggle of cigars. Nice cigars. Aromatic and solid, with real leaves as their wrapping, stamped by foil seals more detailed than any Hell company would use- imported. These came from the human world. Husk swallows and looks up at Angel.

“How…?”

“You don't wanna hear the answer, Husky.” Both sets of arms cradle Angel's torso now. “So don't ask.”

Pulling out a single cigar, Husk glances around the room for a lighter- he doesn't smoke unless he can get his hands on the nice shit, and doesn't keep one on hand anymore. Like he expected this, Angel produces a pink zippo, flicks it open to produce a gentle flame, and extends it like the motion is second nature to him. The implication sours in Husk's stomach alongside the idea of what Angel did to get these for him. However rich and smooth the smoke, Cuban, he realizes now that it's lit, he can't enjoy it.

“I ain't worth that.” He sits next to Angel, takes another drag, and offers the cigar to him. Their fingers brush when he takes it. “Whatever it was.”

Smoke from Angel’s shuddery exhale swirls between them, as dark and heady as the tension between them has been for months. They inch closer over griping sessions and small gifts, but this present, nicer than anything Husk has touched since his fall from power, carries them into a deeper connection he can no longer imagine as tenuous as he’d prefer. Friends don’t give each other shit this nice.

Angel passes back the cigar and says, “Are too.”

He doesn’t explain, and this time, Husk doesn’t ask.

[teaganthemorningstar]

Electric Lights on Strings

As Alastor’s scathing smile stretches alongside his lanky limbs, Angel tops off Vaggie’s eggnog with a healthy glug of whiskey. “I wouldn’t blame ya for saying I told you so,” he says. “I’m gonna. Hey, Charlie!”

Only Charlie could stand between the Radio Demon and the King of Hell, pointedly dismissing their eldritch devolution and Angel’s interjections with a pout not even Alastor can resist for long. Vaggie has her spear in hand as a precaution but she doubts it’ll be necessary with this crowd.

“Now, Alastor, Dad,” Charlie hedges, clasping her hands in front of her chest, “Christmas is about getting along. Right, Vaggie?”

Most of Vaggie’s recollections of Christmas involve going to parties with Adam, drinking until even Heaven wasn’t enough to keep her stomach from turning, rubbing elbows with important angels, and trying to keep her head on straight. One year, she thinks she actually met the birthday boy. He turned her wine to water, if her memory serves correctly, and then transformed her black dress to red and green to match the party theme before disappearing back into the crowd. 

“Uh, sure, yeah.”

Charlie grins when their eyes meet. “Thanks, babe. Soooo, it’s not very festive to, like, have a super powerful battle in the lobby over which lights to use. And,” she nods toward Niffty, who’s currently tangled in both Lucifer’s rainbow string lights and Alastor’s old-fashioned white line of bulbs, “it’s totally not fair to the staff! They’re trying really, really hard to decorate.”

Everyone has contributed something: Husk wrapped tinsel around the bartop and stools, Angel hung mistletoe in every possible location, Sir Pentious and Cherri brought in the tree, the Egg Bois covered the ground in fake snow, and Niffty put wreaths on all the doors. Charlie has taken it all in with such wonder that Vaggie can’t stand to burst her bubble. In Hell, Christmas is mostly about seasonal vape flavors and porn campaigns–nothing like Heaven’s month-long celebration. The nostalgic, rose-colored memories from life Angel accidentally shared over breakfast last week were enough to convince Charlie that they all need a proper celebration somewhere between Heaven and Hell’s traditions.

“Charlie,” Alastor says primly once he drops back into his usual form, “if you insist on defiling the hotel with decorations for this…” he flicks a hand, “holiday, I implore you not to use those ridiculous neon eyesores.”

“The only eyesore here is your coat!” Lucifer snaps.

“Guys, come on!” Charlie interjects again. “Can’t we compromise?”

At the same time that Lucifer reluctantly agrees, Alastor scoffs and sinks down into the floor, though Vaggie notes his silhouette draw up at the front windows with a red-eyed stare. Rainbow lights it is, then. She sets her eggnog, untouched, on the table to free Niffty. All the decorations just appeared when she was in Heaven, not a speck out of place, and leaving the haphazard efforts of the hotel residents to feel more like a mockery than a comfort. 

“Don’t worry, Niff,” Vaggie says as she unwinds the strings, “I’ll have you free in a second.”

“Aren’t you excited?”

She pauses. “Huh?”

“You seem sad,” answers Niffty, squirming to ‘help’ free her arms from the tangled Christmas lights. “Don’t you like Christmas?” 

There’s no reason to, as far as Vaggie’s concerned, but she doesn’t want to dampen the mood when everyone is so excited for a taste of familiarity, a taste of home, after the decades they’ve spent in Hell. She can’t take this from them. Husk is smiling. 

“Not my thing,” she says. 

With a final flourish, Vaggie lifts Niffty from the lights and deposits her a couple feet away. The bug scuttles off into the shadows to continue decorating, leaving Vaggie to watch Lucifer conjure elegant strings of rainbow lights onto the tree, the walls, and the ceilings while mentally agreeing with Alastor that the colors are tacky. Then again, tacky is hardly out of place for the Hazbin Hotel. 

Vaggie shores up a smile as she rejoins Charlie’s side, determined not to let her feelings get in the way of everyone else’s excitement. 

[teaganthemorningstar]

So this didn’t post Thanksgiving day like it was supposed to…

SO! Here is Alastor!

Hope you all are ready for 31 days of Hazbin Hotel art and fics from me and @valscigarette !

[teaganthemorningstar]

I'm participating in a monthly challenge this December and you can too!

This challenge is open to all creatives, from all fandoms and genres, at any level of participation. I'll be taking on a completionist challenge with @aflatfacedprick for 31 days of Hazbin Hotel fic/art pairings 🫶

ALT Text is available for all images on this post!

Detailed explanation below the cut:

For anyone familiar with inktober, whumptober, or other month-long events, this will be held in a similar format.

The only tag required is #shadydecember so we can all see each other's work!

I do not have Twitter/X, Instagram, Dreamwidth, or other socials. I'm only on tumblr and AO3! Feel free to share this challenge to other platforms with credit.

Not inspired by the daily prompt? Not a problem! Each prompt is an excerpt from a song on my 2024 Christmas Playlist. I've listed these songs for you below to take as alternative prompts. Loose interpretations are welcome!

Large-Text Prompt List for the visually impaired, broken into thirds for screen readers:

If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me an ask or DM me!

[teaganthemorningstar]

what if you were a BISEXUAL and your bf nearly DIES and then he leaves you to become JESUS and then your hot gf gets KIDNAPPED and your little sister becomes a DICTATOR and you grow a BEARD

[teaganthemorningstar]

One of life’s great pleasures is letting your face completely drop to dead apathy after having to fake cheerful friendliness for some fuckass job

[teaganthemorningstar]

Okay y’all I know this isn’t much but I have no self control and simply don’t know how to not be ambitious. Soooooooo Alastor is taking a wee longer than I would like due to some other things going on right now (mainly crocheting two blankets for Christmas which should have been started months ago but were not). Hopefully, if all goes well, the finished Alastor piece will be out on Sunday.

For now have this current progress shot, it’s not much and still needs a lot of tweaking but do with this what you will.

[teaganthemorningstar]

I'm participating in a monthly challenge this December and you can too!

This challenge is open to all creatives, from all fandoms and genres, at any level of participation. I'll be taking on a completionist challenge with @aflatfacedprick for 31 days of Hazbin Hotel fic/art pairings 🫶

ALT Text is available for all images on this post!

Detailed explanation below the cut:

For anyone familiar with inktober, whumptober, or other month-long events, this will be held in a similar format.

The only tag required is #shadydecember so we can all see each other's work!

I do not have Twitter/X, Instagram, Dreamwidth, or other socials. I'm only on tumblr and AO3! Feel free to share this challenge to other platforms with credit.

Not inspired by the daily prompt? Not a problem! Each prompt is an excerpt from a song on my 2024 Christmas Playlist. I've listed these songs for you below to take as alternative prompts. Loose interpretations are welcome!

Large-Text Prompt List for the visually impaired, broken into thirds for screen readers:

If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me an ask or DM me!

[teaganthemorningstar]

Hey, the ACLU is getting people to send letters to your Reps to have Congress pass the No Kings Act.

This act would make constitutional amendments to ensure that even sitting presidents are held liable for their actions. That NOBODY is above the law.

Their goal is 150k messages sent and at the time of writing this they're about 2.1k off from that goal!

ACLU gives you a prefilled message that you can edit to send to make the process easier, and will send it out for you.

This only takes a few minutes!

[teaganthemorningstar]

It was my project for this year to crochet the Lords In Black and I'm so happy that I didn't procrastinate for too long. Enjoy these little gods🩷💛💚💙💜 From left to right: Nibblenephim, T'noy Karaxis, Wiggog Y'wrath, Pokotho, Bliklotep

[teaganthemorningstar]

priest and his nuns 🙏

[teaganthemorningstar]

Summary: Vox and Val's first time (Drugstore!AU)

Tags: Vox/Val, Smut, Top!Vox, Power Bottom!Val, Dubious Consent, Power Plays, Xeno

DM me for more detailed warnings!

WC: 3.1k | AO3

-

The private room is cleaner than Vox expected. Besides a small circular stage, not unlike the featured tables of the main club, the space contains a black leather couch and a well-stocked minibar Vox immediately ransacks for bourbon. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He doesn’t know what he’s doing at all, because a strip club is so far from his comfort zone that he feels freshly dead again, and Val’s hand on the small of his back burns closer to affection than the power play he rationally knows it to be.

Briefly, Vox considers that his drink was spiked. That must be it; he can’t explain why else he agreed to follow Val back here.

“You’re so fucking tense,” Val accuses, reaching around Vox to lift a bottle of off-label whiskey. “Loosen up a little.”

He takes the drink from Val and fumbles the cap off with trembling hands. “What are we doing?”

“Sharing a drink?” Val covers Vox’s hand with his own on the bottle, raising it toward his screen. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

It would be the second, however, and the memory of their shared night in Vox’s studio apartment makes bile rise in the back of his throat. He’s used to Val coming to the store looking like a well-loved chew toy, but that morning had been different. He was bloody, more so than usual, with tears in his wings and a jaw so swollen with missing teeth that his speech was unintelligible. Vox had closed up the shop, claiming sudden sickness, and squirreled Val home because it was the safest place he could think of. All day, they drank together–Val mostly spilling it down his chest–and when Vox woke up splayed out on top of Val in the morning, he’d received a sleepy kiss to the side of his screen and a wandering hand caressing his waist. For a split second, it was nice. Then Vox remembered who Val was, kicked him out, and swore to himself he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Don’t you have customers? People who’ll pay to drink with you?” Vox asks, flexing his fingers beneath Val’s iron grip.

Val hums as his lower set of hands latch onto Vox’s waist. “I’d rather spend time with you.”

In another universe, one where Val doesn’t sell himself like a magazine subscription and Vox doesn’t even have dignity left to lose, perhaps Vox might have believed him. But he knows Val by now, as much as he can know someone he sees for ten minutes twice a week, and to believe he’d prefer Vox’s broke company than that of a paying client is idiocy at best. There has to be something he wants, and not knowing what is nerve wracking. For all he plays the bimbo, there’s a calculating coldness behind Val’s eyes that Vox knows better than to trust.

“Uh, why?”

“Do I need a reason?” Val coos, stepping back toward the couch. “Can’t I just, ah,” he sighs dramatically as he sits, pulling Vox into his lap in the process, “enjoy a drink with my friend?”

Vox tries to get up, but one of Val’s arms loops around his stomach like a vice, trapping him in place. “This doesn’t feel friendly, Val.”

“Are you sure?” Before Vox can answer, Val rolls his hips into Vox’s ass, letting him feel the bulge of his half-hard cock. “I’m giving you the friends and family discount: best fuck of your life, for the low price of letting me call the shots.” He pets one of Vox’s arms as he grinds against him again.

“Friends and family? What the fuck do you mean-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Something hot and wet suddenly curls around the sensitive synthetic flesh of his neck, not tightly enough to choke him, but uncomfortably intense when he hasn’t been touched there since he was a living man. It distracts him past the point of questioning it until it unwraps to trace a sloppy trail up the side of his screen. Then, once Vox can see a portion of it, he realizes it’s Val’s tongue.

“Val!” he yelps, pushing against the arm holding him in place. “Seriously?”

“Don’t be a wuss, it’s just a little spit,” Val says. He uses his free hands to nudge Vox’s legs apart, pulling them over his own thighs to hold them in place and keep Vox from shutting them again. “That’s better.” One of Val’s slender hands, the ones Vox has privately admired for months, cups him through his slacks and that’s somehow more embarrassing, more real, than being able to feel Val rutting against his ass. “Mmm, not bad,” he purrs against the side of Vox’s head, “I can work with this.”

Vox squirms trying to free himself, but the movement only draws a soft groan from Val that he feels vibrating against his back more than he hears. It should frighten him, or piss him off, or something, any reaction besides a heated thrill in his gut followed by a wave of shame so intense his screen rapidly cycles through solid RGB blocks. His heart, or whatever passes for one in his semi-mechanical body, beats faster than he knew it could, as if trying to outrun Valentino when the rest of him is still firmly trapped in his arms.

His head falls back against Val’s shoulder as he struggles to control his glitching enough to speak. “I’m n-not fucking gay.”

“No?” At that moment, Val tightens his hand around Vox’s dick. It should hurt, but the sensors for pleasure and pain have been crossed since Vox woke up in Hell, and a keening noise he doesn’t recognize escapes him as he arches into the contact. “What’s this then? Feels a little fucking gay to me, Papi.”

Vox swears again under his breath as Val sweeps his thumb along the length of Vox’s bulge, so gentle in comparison to the harsh grip of his other fingers that it’s impossible to concentrate on anything else.

“And it’s not that different, you know,” Val tells him. His mischievous tongue darts out again, this time smearing a trail of pink saliva across Vox’s screen that tastes like cherry candy when it drips into his mouth. “A hole is a hole, the logistics are the same.”

When Val lets go, all the blood rushing back to Vox’s dick makes him too dizzy to respond right away, though a small part of him mourns the loss. “You’re not letting this go,” he pants, “are you?”

“Nope, not until I get into those cheap, ugly-ass khakis.”

At the end of the day, Vox realizes, it doesn’t really matter if he’s gay or not. Hell seems ambivalent to such things, and whatever… this… is with Valentino feels like an inevitability, the next point on a path charted long before he was conceived, let alone dead and buried. Maybe when it's over he'll feel differently but right now, with Val massaging his cock and dry humping him to the faint bass line of the main stage, Vox wants him. He needs him.

“Don't worry, I won't make you bottom,” Val continues. “Tonight, at least. We have all of eternity to get to that.”

Vox finds himself nodding, and when Val nudges him back to his feet, he goes without hesitation. With Val’s body pressed up against his back, and all four of his hands working the buttons of Vox’s shirt open, there’s no room left to run if he were to change his mind. He still might. There’s just something in the warmth of his touch, the sweet note of his perfume, the pitch of his pleased hum that’s nostalgic; Val reminds Vox of proper girls like the ones who circled his pulpit as a preacher, and he can’t recall if it’s always been so or if the wires are crossing for the first time tonight.

“Do you,” Vox starts, his voice catching as Val tugs his belt from its loops, “do you have a condom?”

The rumble of Val’s laugh reverberates through Vox’s bones. “Not this again.” He backs away enough to help Vox out of his clothes, all unbuttoned and ready to fall faster than Vox has ever managed on his own. “If I wasn’t clean–which I am right now, by the way–you’d get over whatever you catch in a couple days.”

“Disgusting.”

“Thanks,” Val replies brightly. “I try.”

Vox turns to tell him it wasn’t a compliment, only to bluescreen at the sight of Val stripped bare, save for the heels and gloves. He’s seen almost all of Val at one point or another by now, but those memories couldn’t prepare Vox for the divine beauty of Valentino’s statuesque form, nor the fact that without the restraint of his clothing, his tentacle-like cock writhes against his belly until Val wraps an indulgent hand around it.

“Like it?” Val asks. When Vox doesn’t immediately respond, Val takes one of his wrists, guiding his hand. “Most of my clients do.”

An instinctive crackle of electricity sparks between Vox’s antenna and down his spine. “I’m not-”

“I know, I know.” Maybe the whiskey is clouding Vox’s judgment, but Val sounds genuine, comforting, instead of his usual bratty demeanor. “You’re not like them.”

The second Vox touches his cock, Val lets go of his wrist and sighs. His skin is warmer and smoother here, slightly damp with precum that stretches between Vox’s fingers as it explores his hand.

“Always making sure I get home safe, giving me discounts when I’m short- you’re such a gentleman, Papi.”

Vox drags his eyes from Val’s dick up to his face and finds Val studying him, as if testing to see how he reacts.

“Gonna take good care of me?”

“Maybe,” Vox says. He isn’t sure where the line is. “Is that what you want?”

Delighted, Val pinches the sides of his screen and smacks a wet kiss over his digital mouth. With a second of warning, Vox could’ve kissed him back. “Aw, you give a shit!” His cock twitches in Vox’s hand as Val tells him, “There’s nothing you could do I wouldn’t like. You seem, mmm, vanilla.”

“Anyone ever tell you the problem with assumptions?”

Vox extricates his hand from Val’s dick, a more difficult feat than anticipated, so he can grab Val’s balls in one hand and his delicate throat in the other, squeezing both hard enough to make him whimper. As Val’s mouth falls open to gasp for air, he scrabbles for purchase along Vox’s torso and upper arms, but not to fight. It seems he simply wants to touch.

“Val.”

“No,” Val wheezes, tongue lolling out of his mouth and smearing drool over Vox’s forearm. “What?”

“They make an ass out of you,” he tightens his hold on Val’s balls, “and me.”

Then he lets go, allowing Val to catch his breath for a moment before saying, “I don’t get it.” Notably, he doesn’t retaliate once recovered. If anything, Vox has lit a match under him by finally reacting to one of his taunts; now Val is going to hyperfixate on making him do it again. “Not vanilla, then,” Val hums thoughtfully. “Color me interested.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Vox accuses. It’s pointless, when he can still see the outline of his claws in the fur of Val’s neck, but he has to cling to something if he intends to survive the flood of Valentino’s affections.

“Yeah, but you’re here, aren’t you?”

His gold tooth glitters through his grin as he reaches for Vox once more, closing his hand around Vox’s dick without boxers and pants in the way to dull the sensation. The satin of his glove is unlike any sensation Vox has ever felt, cool and slippery, but with a low enough thread count to catch against the ridge of his cockhead on each downstroke. A shudder that almost makes Vox miss the corner of Val’s smirk dropping into something softer rolls through him.

“Fuck, you’re like a virgin,” Val says, pleased, as if it's a compliment. “Doesn't take much with you, does it?”

Standing face to face like this, Vox has nowhere to hide, and his processors are too overloaded by Val's touch to come up with a convincing lie. Months ago, he would have run. But now he knows Val, trusts him to keep Vox's secrets as well as his own, and has run out of excuses to delay something he fears they've been hurtling towards since they first laid eyes on each other.

“Most girls get on their knees and get it over with,” Vox admits.

His head drops forward when Val sweeps a thumb over the head of his cock, only for another gloved hand to lift his face by the corner. With more grace than he has outside the club, Val's fingers move in perfect parallels, each sweet caress of Vox's screen matched to a gentle stroke of his dick.

“That's no fun.”

Val leans closer, peppering sloppy kisses across Vox's screen until his vision is tinted pink through the copious amounts of drool- another thing he would've run from not long ago.

“Can I ride you, Papi? Or do you still need to be the big man in charge?”

Without waiting for an answer, Val guides Vox back to the couch and perches over his lap, calves pressed to Vox's thighs and three hands pinning him in place like nails through his body. He’d let Val crucify him for a fuck right now, he thinks.

“You’re the expert,” Vox chuffs, turning away because he can’t handle watching Val do this. “And you’ve been chasing me for months, you put in the work.”

Val hums and takes hold of Vox’s dick to position it. “You’re in good hands.”

Vox wants to say something smart, but it turns into a broken sound when Val lowers himself onto the head of Vox’s cock. He’s tighter than a girl, but still wet like one, and he doesn’t squirm or complain as he sinks down until his bony ass rests in the cradle of Vox’s lap.

“How’s that?” Val croons.

His cock squirms against Vox’s lower stomach, far more excited than its owner's controlled movements imply. Desperation for an ounce of power in this situation drives Vox to curl his hand around it again and allow the curious appendage to explore his fingers, fitting itself between them with an excitement he reluctantly finds adorable.

“So?” Val asks, subtly shifting in Vox’s lap without actually fucking himself yet.

“So what?”

Val grins and nips the corner of Vox’s screen before kissing across it, using the pressure to force Vox to look at him. “So, are you still not gay?”

“Val.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” Raising his upper set of hands in mock surrender, Val finally begins to move. Like the impatient bastard he is, Val doesn’t waste time warming them up now that he’s adjusted. He sets a brutal pace, up and down like it’s as natural to him as breathing and not the best tail Vox has gotten in life or death. Truth be told, Vox has never found sex with women particularly satisfying, and doesn’t miss anything about them now.

The elegant limbs he’s admired for months cage him into place like he has room left in his mind to run away from this. At the center of Val’s attention, Vox can’t remember a single protest he had; there’s only Val’s body accepting him like they were built to fit together, Val’s hands pressing bruises into his skin, Val’s tongue writing an essay across his chest, Valentino. He has all of Val for however long this lasts. Beyond that, he is nothing and no one.

He realizes belatedly that Val has been talking to him this entire time, the words melting together in a honeyed slurry he processes the tone of, but not the content. It doesn’t matter–Val has nothing of consequence to say, and his playful lilting laugh is too lighthearted to be a threat–but his affect soothes something frayed inside of Vox he hadn’t realized was damaged.

”-than them, Voxxy?”

Vox blinks a couple times, scanning his memory for the rest of the question but coming up blank. “Huh?” he manages.

“Aww,” Val trills. One of his hands caresses Vox’s cheek, the silk-covered fingertips dipping into the seam of his lips as he continues, “Fucked stupid already?”

For a second, Vox considers shoving Val off him, but the brief satisfaction wouldn’t be worth the loss. “Bored, more like.”

Val’s smile sharpens at the edges as he narrows his eyes. It sets off alarms, reminds Vox that Val is a whore he wouldn’t trust with the shirt off his back, yet the warnings sound far away when Val’s riding him with mechanical precision.

“Wanna take that back? I’ll give you the chance.”

He hums, low in his chest.

“I’m thoughtful like that.”

“I- I-” The words stick in Vox’s speakers as he bluescreens. Between the perfect, borderline blessed rhythm Val keeps and the obscene writhing of his prehensile cock, his systems are already at capacity. Processing Val’s purr proves to be too much. “I- Vvv-”

“Pathetic,” Val chides before he can spit it out, which is apparently the final push Vox needs.

Bliss. Pleasure, in its purest, rawest form courses through Vox like he was made to be fucked by Valentino, and he’s becoming complete with every spurt of cum into Val. He’d call it a claim if he had the presence of mind. Through his scrambled visual feed he catches his screenlight reflecting back at him in Val’s eyes, flashing blue between each scramble of technicolor panic. Val has never been this beautiful before.

Vox’s head lolls onto the backrest of the couch once Val lets go of it, chasing a sloppy rhythm to bring himself off, uncaring of the overstimulation that loops Vox into reboot after reboot without a second to recover. He processes it in flashes. Val’s tongue dripping down his jaw. Val’s abs tensing with each thrust. Val’s hand blurring around his dick. Val’s back arching into a painful curve. Val’s cum splattering up to Vox’s collarbone.

“Fuck,” Val hisses, at last beginning to slow. “Fucking warn a guy if your jizz is caustic. Not that I mind.” He shivers and clenches around Vox, coaxing a final dribble of cum from him. “It’s an upcharge though. If we weren’t such good friends, you’d be in trouble.”

When Val climbs off Vox’s lap, it allows his system the chance to sort through his shorted circuits and find a way to run until he can crack his box open for repairs. Carefully, he pushes himself back to his feet and grabs a bar napkin to wipe his torso clean before redressing. He’ll regret this tomorrow. Tonight, however, he finds himself too fucked-out to be anything but satisfied.

[teaganthemorningstar]

I know I haven't posted art on here before but stay tuned for a treat. 🤫😁

Hey... psst.... I'll be doing/hosting a ❄️December Challenge❄️ open to all creatives, all levels of participation, and all genres/fandoms. I'll share the details on November 15th!

Oh, and @teaganthemorningstar (my favorite local artist) and I are collaborating to bring you 31 straight days of Hazbin Hotel content in December. Stay tuned 🫶

(Reblogs encouraged)

[teaganthemorningstar]

If you're a US citizen and haven't voted yet, please vote today! 20 states + DC allow same day voter registration. Make a stand for freedom 💙 and vote down your entire ballot!

[teaganthemorningstar]

Figured out Velvette's backstory in the drugstore!au 👀

[teaganthemorningstar]

While you're on my blog sign these petitions

Transparency about Water Safety in AVL

No Evictions during Recovery in WNC

[teaganthemorningstar]

‘You should only send hearts to ppl you’re romantically involved with’

WRONG! BOUNDLESS PLATONIC LOVE, WARMTH, AND ENTHUSIASM BE UPON YE!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️